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Mr. Barrett Sterne has one thing on his mind. He must find Lord Tensford’s fossil specimen—the one that was stolen right out from under his nose—and his cracked skull. It is a matter of honor. It is vital to preserving the regard of his close-knit circle of friends. Why, then, must he keep pushing away thoughts of Miss Munroe, the girl who distracted him from his duty that fateful night?
Miss Penelope Munroe has many things on her mind—her scientific interests, the help she’s providing her village friends, and the fact that her parents are pushing her toward marriage. Her father wants her to marry a peer, her mother keeps thrusting her at her scientist friends, but she cannot help but wonder if that spark between her and Mr. Sterne was real? She has a chance to find out when she becomes embroiled in the search for the missing fossil. Sparks are indeed flying and passions swirl, but Sterne’s demons have their claws buried deep in his heart. He is continually drawn to her, but feels honor bound to stay away. Penelope’s love and determination are fierce, but can she free him enough to trust in the permanence of love? |
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Excerpt:
“Let’s give them a bit of privacy,” she whispered as she drew close. He stared down at her until she nudged him. “Mr. Sterne? Can we take a stroll in the passage outside, perhaps?”
“What? Oh, yes.” He glanced toward Tensford, who was leaning perilously close to his wife, and wrenched the door open. Closing it in a gentler fashion, he offered Miss Monroe his arm and steered her away from the stairwell and towards the tall window at the end of the corridor.
The view was of the street below. He peered down. “Has the carriage arrived? We left it behind when it was blocked by an accident in the street. There was no keeping Tensford inside, sitting still.”
He glanced over and saw she was staring at him, rather than the view.
He turned to face her. For a moment, as the street noise faded and the homely sounds of Mrs. Lewis sweeping the downstairs entry hall disappeared, they were alone together, caught in a bubble of perfect of awareness.
He couldn’t stop looking at her mouth. That smaller top lip, out of balance, but perched so perfectly on the lower, plumper lip . . . if he kissed just the top, felt that petal softness, caressed it with his own mouth . . . would it swell a little? Make a more even pairing?
“Do you know,” she said absently. “I think if I had a right-angle square, I could use your nose as the hypotenuse of a triangle.”
“What?” He touched his nose. “Yes, well, I suppose it is rather long and—”
“Splendid,” she interrupted, her gaze still focused intently. “It is straight and strong and rather . . . perfect.” She blinked suddenly and her gaze darted away. “For your face, I meant, of course. Wonderfully proportionate.”
“Thank you. I think.”
Her eyes widened and she took a step back. “Oh, I do apologize.” Her shoulders slumped a little. “My first day in Town and I’ve done it already.”
“Done? Done what?”
“What my mother warned me I must not. I have a habit of going off inside my head at times, usually when I’m making a discovery, connecting things for the first time, or obsessing over something.” She ducked her head. “I daresay you don’t know what I mean.”
“I do, though.” He stared at her mouth again as her head rose slowly.
“I tend to just blurt out what I’m thinking, when I get in such a state,” she said on nearly a whisper. “My mother swears it will get me in trouble in Society.”
He should stop. Stop staring. Stop noting the increased shallowness of her breathing. Stop wanting a girl who was not meant for him. “Perhaps, then, we should focus our thoughts away from noses and lips and—”
He froze. Devil take it.
“Lips?” she asked. Then she flushed a glorious, rosy red and turned away, her fingers rising to lightly touch her mouth.
He nearly shook his head at his own inept blunder.
He didn’t, though. He reached for her and kissed her, instead.
“What? Oh, yes.” He glanced toward Tensford, who was leaning perilously close to his wife, and wrenched the door open. Closing it in a gentler fashion, he offered Miss Monroe his arm and steered her away from the stairwell and towards the tall window at the end of the corridor.
The view was of the street below. He peered down. “Has the carriage arrived? We left it behind when it was blocked by an accident in the street. There was no keeping Tensford inside, sitting still.”
He glanced over and saw she was staring at him, rather than the view.
He turned to face her. For a moment, as the street noise faded and the homely sounds of Mrs. Lewis sweeping the downstairs entry hall disappeared, they were alone together, caught in a bubble of perfect of awareness.
He couldn’t stop looking at her mouth. That smaller top lip, out of balance, but perched so perfectly on the lower, plumper lip . . . if he kissed just the top, felt that petal softness, caressed it with his own mouth . . . would it swell a little? Make a more even pairing?
“Do you know,” she said absently. “I think if I had a right-angle square, I could use your nose as the hypotenuse of a triangle.”
“What?” He touched his nose. “Yes, well, I suppose it is rather long and—”
“Splendid,” she interrupted, her gaze still focused intently. “It is straight and strong and rather . . . perfect.” She blinked suddenly and her gaze darted away. “For your face, I meant, of course. Wonderfully proportionate.”
“Thank you. I think.”
Her eyes widened and she took a step back. “Oh, I do apologize.” Her shoulders slumped a little. “My first day in Town and I’ve done it already.”
“Done? Done what?”
“What my mother warned me I must not. I have a habit of going off inside my head at times, usually when I’m making a discovery, connecting things for the first time, or obsessing over something.” She ducked her head. “I daresay you don’t know what I mean.”
“I do, though.” He stared at her mouth again as her head rose slowly.
“I tend to just blurt out what I’m thinking, when I get in such a state,” she said on nearly a whisper. “My mother swears it will get me in trouble in Society.”
He should stop. Stop staring. Stop noting the increased shallowness of her breathing. Stop wanting a girl who was not meant for him. “Perhaps, then, we should focus our thoughts away from noses and lips and—”
He froze. Devil take it.
“Lips?” she asked. Then she flushed a glorious, rosy red and turned away, her fingers rising to lightly touch her mouth.
He nearly shook his head at his own inept blunder.
He didn’t, though. He reached for her and kissed her, instead.
Reviews
5 Stars - Penelope is a heroine I loved. Ms Marlowe voices through her feminine characters that equality is not only in rights, but in deeds.
--Elodie's Reading Corner
5 star read - A fast paced, daring story with places to make you gasp with passion and fear and giggle with delight...
--LyssaReviews
This is a well written story with . . .an exciting mystery, cameos from Tensford, Hope and Whiddon, a stubborn hero, a feisty heroine, warm love scenes, a few surprising twists and finally a HEA complete with an epilogue! This is the third book in the series but can easily be read as a standalone. I enjoyed this story and am looking forward to Chester's book!
--Flippin Pages
Once again, Ms Marlowe weaves her magic between Penelope and Barrett.
Well written and well excuted. The characters are flawed but lovable. The storyline is unpredictable, unique and compelling.
--My Book Addiction and More
--Elodie's Reading Corner
5 star read - A fast paced, daring story with places to make you gasp with passion and fear and giggle with delight...
--LyssaReviews
This is a well written story with . . .an exciting mystery, cameos from Tensford, Hope and Whiddon, a stubborn hero, a feisty heroine, warm love scenes, a few surprising twists and finally a HEA complete with an epilogue! This is the third book in the series but can easily be read as a standalone. I enjoyed this story and am looking forward to Chester's book!
--Flippin Pages
Once again, Ms Marlowe weaves her magic between Penelope and Barrett.
Well written and well excuted. The characters are flawed but lovable. The storyline is unpredictable, unique and compelling.
--My Book Addiction and More
