Title:
The Right Kind Of Rogue
(Playful Brides)
Author:
Valerie Bowman
Release
Date: October 31, 2017
Publisher:
St.Martin’s Press
Category:
Historical Romance
Type:
Digital/Paperback
Blurb:
Can
two star-crossed lovers come together—until death do they part?
Viscount
Hart Highgate has decided to put his rakish ways behind him and finally get
married. He may adore a good brandy or a high-speed carriage race, but he takes
his duties as heir to the earldom seriously. Now all he has to do is find the
right kind of woman to be his bride—ideally, one who’s also well-connected and
well-funded. . .
Meg
Timmons has loved Hart, the brother of her best friend, ever since she was an
awkward, blushing schoolgirl. If only she had a large dowry—or anything to her
name at all. Instead, she’s from a family that’s been locked in a bitter feud
with Hart’s for years. And now she’s approaching her third London season, Meg’s
chances with him are slim to none. Unless a surprise encounter on a deep, dark
night could be enough to spark a rebellious romance. . .for all time?
By
reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age.
If you
are under the age of 18, please exit this site.
Favorite
Line(s):
“Very well, I’ll wait here with my ripped bodice while you
save the day. Please proceed.” ~ Meg
Dialogue
Highlight:
Once outside the dining room, Hart strode down the corridor.
Following the duchess’s instructions, he located the silver closet. The key was
in the lock and the door was closed. He tried the handle. He turned the lock
and tried the handle once more. It was stuck. “Meg?” he called.
Her muffled voice sounded through the thick wood. “Hart? Is
that you?”
“Yes.” He pushed harder against the door, this time using his
shoulder.
“Hart, don’t come in here, I’ve ripped my—”
The door flew open and Hart nearly fell into the room from the
weight of his shoulder against the door.
The closet was in darkness, but he made out the shadowy figure
of Meg, a glimmering bit of pink a few paces away.
“Why is it dark in here? Are you quite all right?”
“Don’t come any closer,” she squeaked.
“What? Why?” He stepped into the room.
“No! Don’t let the door—”Meg lunged toward it, a shadow in the
darkness.
She was too late. The door slammed closed.
He’d stepped quickly to the side. “Why?”
“Because it will—”She jiggled the handle and sighed “—lock.”
Hart turned toward the door and grabbed the handle again. By
God, she was right. The door had not only closed, it had locked. What in the
devil’s name?
“I’ve been trying for the last ten minutes to get out of
here.”
“I see that,” he said simply. “May I ask why you’re waiting in
the dark?”
“Oh, because I prefer it, obviously.”Her voice dripped
sarcasm.
He rubbed his fingers through his hair. “Tell me what
happened.”
“I was standing on the stairs looking for the polish when the
door slammed shut and blew out the candle. The flintlock appears to have gone
missing.”
“There is a candle and a flintlock in here?” Instinctively, he
turned to look before realizing that was a fruitless effort. He couldn’t even
see his own hand in front of his face.
“Yes. Somewhere,” Meg replied.
“Then all we must do is locate it.”
“Brilliant. I wish I’d thought of that.”
Hart grinned in the darkness. “I never knew how witty you
are.” Miss Timmons confirmed again she wasn’t the quiet little mouse he’d once
assumed she was. He liked that. Quite a lot.
“I suppose being locked in a silver closet in the dark with a
ripped bodice doesn’t exactly bring out the best in me.”
“Pardon?” Had he heard her correctly?
“I said being locked in a silver closet isn’t particularly my
finest hour,” she replied.
“No. The part about your bodice being, erm, ripped?”
“Oh yes. In addition to the door blowing shut, locking me in
here, and divesting me of light, I managed to rip my gown while reaching for
the silver polish.”
“That is unfortunate.” Hart’s mind raced. What sort of state
of undress were they speaking of? He could smell Meg’s strawberry sweetness.
Light. Ephemeral. Like her. His palms began to sweat. It had turned ungodly hot
in the small space of a sudden.
“Quite unlucky,” Meg echoed. “Therefore, if you are fortunate
enough to find the flintlock and light the candle, I’d be ever so thankful if
you would turn your back when you do so.”
Hart chuckled.
“Is my misfortune amusing to you?” came her pert voice.
“Not at all. I’m merely considering the ridiculousness of all
of this.”
Two moments ticked by before Meg spoke, a decided laugh in her
voice. “It is quite ridiculous, isn’t it?”
Hart was already feeling his way across the top of a bureau,
trying to locate the elusive flintlock. “Do you think the breeze caused by the
door knocked the flintlock to the floor?”
“I got down on my hands and knees and felt around but wasn’t
able to find it. My next attempt was going to be to call for help. Your voice
is louder. They’re certain to hear us. Go ahead.”
“Nonsense,” Hart replied. “I’m not about to call for help like
a ninny. I’m going to find this flintlock, light the candle, and open this
blasted door.”
“Are you calling me a ninny?” she asked, but the lightness in
her voice remained. He could tell she found it amusing.
“No. I’m saying I don’t need help from a servant to escape a
silver closet.”
“Very well, I’ll wait here with my ripped bodice while you
save the day. Please proceed.”
Hart shook his head, even though she couldn’t see him do it.
He slowly lowered himself to the floor and on hands and knees scoured every
inch of the floor of the silver closet while Meg quietly waited near the back
of small space.
“I don’t understand it,” he said, finally. He pushed himself
up to sit on the floor, his back against the cabinet next to Meg. He drew up
his knees. “I laid out the floor in a grid. I know I covered everywhere.”
“As did I ten minutes before you.”
“I touched every bit of space on the bureau, too.”
“As did I,” she said.
“It’s not in here.”
“My conclusion exactly.”
Excerpt:
“I apologize in advance,” Meg said, “if I—hic—step upon
your feet—hic—fall, or—hic—trip you.”
She expected him to be horrified by her candor and by her
hiccups but instead he . . . laughed. “Not one for dancing?” he asked, his
voice smooth and deep. He smelled like a mixture of starch and some sort of
spicy, clean cologne. The same scent his coat had held when she’d worn it in
the park last year. She’d never forget it. She wanted to breathe him in
forever.
“I quite enjoy—hic—dancing,” she clarified. “I’m just not
entirely certain I—hic—recall how to properly do so given my—hic—immortal
status as a—hic—wallflower.”
He smiled at that, and she could tell by the way the
sides of his mouth curled up that he was trying to keep from laughing more at
her hiccups. Oh, perfect. She was ridiculous to him. Perhaps this was more like
Shakespeare’s Comedy of Errors. Tripping him would decide it for certain.
“I believe it’s like riding a horse,” he said. “One never
forgets. You see, you’re dancing quite well.”
She glanced down at her own feet, amazed that he was
right. She was indeed dancing as if she knew precisely what she was about. “How
do you like that? Hic.” She looked back up at him with wide eyes and smiled. “I
am. Hic.”
“I don’t mean to be impolite,” he said, leaning down and
whispering to her in a conspiratorial voice. The brush of his breath against
her ear sent gooseflesh skittering down her neck. She immediately decided to
fake being hard of hearing in order to get him to whisper everything he said
into her ear. “But are you, by chance, suffering from a bout of the hiccups?”
Her face was no doubt bright pink when she replied, “Yes.
Yes, in fact, I am.” Honesty was always the best policy, was it not? Besides,
there was not much use in denying it. Hiccups were hardly hidable.
Another smothered laugh from him, during which he pressed
his firm lips together. His green eyes twinkled. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
She sighed. “Yes, well, it only—hic—makes the ignominy of
the fact that—hic—my first dance in years is with a gentleman whose
sister—hic—had to convince him to ask me, all the more—hic—excruciatingly
embarrassing. Hic. But I still hold out hope that I won’t also trip.”
Hart’s brow furrowed. “What’s that?”
“I only mean that the glamorous—hic—beautiful ladies you
would normally ask to dance of your own—hic—volition would no doubt never do
anything as common as—hic—be overcome with a bout of hiccups.”
This time he laughed and shook his head, watching her as
if she were a marvel or some inexplicable being like a mermaid or a unicorn.
“First,” he replied, “my sister may have suggested it, but in all my years she
has never been able to convince me to do anything I did not choose to do, and
second, you happen to be the most beautiful lady here tonight.”
“Pardon?” She blinked and glanced behind herself for the
second time. This time she was certain he was talking about someone else.
Surely, he couldn’t mean . . . her.
“It’s true,” he replied. “Why do you seem surprised?”
He had a way of looking at her that made her feel as if
she were the only woman in the room. “You know I’m Meg Timmons, don’t you?”
His tongue flicked out to lick his lips, and he pressed
them together, obviously to keep from laughing. “I know who you are, Meg.”
She narrowed her eyes on him. “Were you—hic—quite
serious? When you said I’m the most—hic—beautiful lady here, I mean? Hic.” She glanced around. “Did Lucy Hunt put you up
to—”She snapped her mouth shut. Stupid, naive Meg. Of course he was saying
flattering things. That’s what men did at balls while dancing with young
ladies. They flirted and bestowed compliments and said things they did not
mean. She simply had no experience with such flirtations. She was horribly
green. She blushed. She must say something equally nonchalant and airy.
“I thank you, my lord, for taking pity—hic—on a flower of
the wall variety such as myself. I daresay dancing is quite—hic—as much fun—hic—as
I remember it.”
“Is it?” His lips twitched.
“I think so. I cannot be certain as in the past I mostly
danced—hic—with my tutor. It is infinitely more diverting with a—hic—gentleman
at a ball. My tutor was elderly and had trouble with his hip. He also—hic—tired
easily and danced with a cane.” No doubt he was the least expensive tutor to be
had.
“Your dancing tutor danced with a cane?” Hart pressed his
lips together.
“I’m afraid so. He also seemed to be inebriated most of
the time.” Meg sighed. Poor Mr. Barton. She wasn’t entirely certain her mother
hadn’t paid him in brandy.
“Sounds a bit like my valet,” Hart replied. “But I’m glad
to hear you prefer dancing with me. I’d hate to be less diverting than a
drunken old tutor who uses a cane.”
“Oh no. I only meant . . . Hic.” Lovely, now she’d gone
and insulted him. She really should speak less. It would help with the
hiccuping problem, too.
“It’s all right. I understand.”
“No. No. I should have said that it’s infinitely more
diverting to—hic—dance with a handsome gentleman, who—”Oh dear Lord. Had she
just called him handsome? To his face? This was worse than tripping. Perhaps
she could fake a trip to distract him.
“You think I’m handsome?” His grin was legendary.
She winced and scrunched up her nose. “Yes,” she squeaked.
“Hic. Frankly, my lord, I didn’t think your handsomeness was ever in question.”
He gave her another knee-weakening smile. “Do you know
what?”
Yes. You’re exceedingly handsome. “What?”
“I’ve heard there is a cure for hiccups.”
“Is that so? Hic.” Good. Talk about the hiccups. No more
talk about the handsomeness.
He leaned down and whispered in her ear again. More
gooseflesh skittered down her neck. “Yes, and if you’ll come outside with me,
I’ll show you.”
Review:
Margaret
(Meg) Timmons has been in love with Hart for years; ever since he stood up for
her. Her parents have been disappointed with her since day one an oohing she
ever does is right. Constantly put down, the only acceptance this wall flower has
ever known comes from her best friend, Sarah and Sarah’s brother, Hart. Now
that Hart had resigned himself to settling down and producing an heir – sort of
– Meg realizes this is her only shot to try and make Hart notice her. She wants
to do things on her own terms, but finally concedes to allow her co-conspirator
to pull her off the wall and bloom before all. And Hart finally takes notice.
Hart
Highfield has been putting matrimony off for long enough. He’s got a responsibility
to produce an heir, but this rogue is averse to any part of wedded bliss –
especially since it doesn’t exist. Sure, his sister seems quite happy in her
marriage, but I was a long road to get there for her; and his parents have been
anything but an example of a happily married couple. He needs to find an
acceptable woman, do his duty, and then get right back to his roguish ways. But
Meg has thrown him for a loop. She’s like no one he’s ever encountered, and he
finds he looks forward to spending more time with her. Odd since he’s known her
forever, but never really noticed her in that way. He feels like he can trust
her, which doesn’t come easy after the debacle with his former intended. But
when a staged interlude compromises her, he begins to think Meg should never
have been trusted either. His problem now hangs up on the fac t that he can’t
resist the vixen, despite her deceitful betrayal.
I have
just been falling in love with the latest Historical Romance authors I have
experienced lately. Ms. Bowman is another new author for me. Initially, I was
caught by the cover and after reading the blurb, I knew I needed to read this
book. I am so happy that I did so. This book is truly fabulous with just the
right amount of everything I look for in a book. The reluctant wallflower that
knows it’s now or never and becomes somewhat emboldened in her quest to be
noticed by the man she loves; the perfect rogue who is beyond disinclined to
give up his bachelor status; a budding romance that said rogue resists; the undeniable
chemistry between both; the hilarious, matchmaking Duchess; a best friend with
the best intentions; a scandal that threatens to unravel all … I mean
seriously, I could go on. I absolutely fell in love with these characters and
never once put the book down until they reached their HEA. This book was a bit
of a ride, slowly working toward the ending I desperately wanted for Meg and
Hart, then beginning the roller coaster of the ups and downs. Progress was made,
only have it ripped away by misunderstandings or stubbornness, within reach,
then snatched away again, until I was fearful they might end up hurting one
another and never reaching their full potential. But therein lies the beauty of
HEA … despite the fear of the elusive love matches, somehow everything
eventually comes full circle and the characters find everything they ever
needed within one another. *le sigh*
I really
enjoyed the easy banter between Meg and Hart and how Meg behaved naturally when
interacting with Hart. Hart kept finding the things Meg did adorable and even
when they risked compromise, he still offered to stand up for her honorable
heir and all that. Both were truly spectacular people and although things got
rocky for a bit, neither compromised who they really were - what attracted one another. I was annoyed a
bit by Sarah, but understood that she just didn’t want to see Meg get hurt. Given
the information provided about her marriage though, I would have expected her
to come around to Lucy’s way of thinking a bit sooner. It was almost comical,
Meg’s inability to see Hart’s attraction to her. Admittedly, I didn’t quite
understand the “Playful Brides” series title until a bit later – which was
spectacular! 😊 Ms. Bowman will now be another of my go-to
authors. She creates a beautiful world to get lost in filled with fun,
fanciful, witty, clever, characters – both main and supporting – that you want
to jump right back in with at the conclusion of the novel. Thankfully, this
book is part of a series and you can bet I will be reading each and every book
within. The added benefit that I was able to read the book out of order without
losing any part of the story is also wonderful. In fact, knowing I have an opportunity
to read more about these charters was thrilling. At this point, I’m toying with
rearranging my review schedule to try and fit in another of the books. 😊 Lovers of HR are sure to be pleased with Ms.
Bowman and her flawless world within the English ton. I know I was!
Kindle version
provided by St. Martin’s Press/NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
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