Epilogue
One year later.
"Who are you going to tell of theWallflower’s Guide?" Logan asked Sutton as they stood at the side of the Anson ballroom, preferring to watch the dancing this evening since she had only found out today she was expecting their first child.
A most marvelous turn of events after months of disappointment and longing for them to start their family. Logan wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her to his side. "I think Lady Violet Brownlow is deserving of the guide. She is five and twenty, beautiful and with a lovely countenance, but her family is said to have pockets to let. I think she will have trouble finding a good match, and she deserves only the best. She has such a sweet soul. It would be cruel for her to become a spinster or married off to an old, gray-haired oaf."
Logan chuckled, shaking his head at her words.
"What?" she asked, staring up at him. "Do you not agree with all that I say?"
He grinned. "Of course I do. I would not dare otherwise, but an old gray-haired oaf? Do point out one of those. I should like to see one if you please."
She elbowed him in his midriff, ignoring him. "I shall go to her now. Wait for me here."
"Of course," he stated, letting her go.
Sutton took a deep breath, starting toward Lady Violet, who appeared pale and uncomfortable in her current setting.
Not for long, dear wallflower. Soon you will bloom, and the Wallflower’s Guide shall help you, just as it helped me gain the man of my heart.
"Lady Violet," Sutton said, smiling at the young woman. "How are you this evening?" she asked, standing at her side.
The young woman seemed to fold in on herself, staring at the parquetry floor instead of Sutton's face. "I'm very well, thank you for asking, Lady Jersey," she replied, quiet and mouse-like.
Sutton tapped the young woman's arm, making her meet her gaze. "No, you are not, but tonight, your luck is about to change. Would you like to know how?" Sutton asked her.
Lady Violet's eyes brightened, a curious light entering her green orbs. "Of course, but I do not know what you mean."
Sutton smiled, linking their arms and making her walk with her. "Oh, but you will. Let me tell you about a guide I know of.A Wallflower’s Guide to Becoming a Bridethat I think would be of use to you, as it was of use to me."
About Tamara
Tamara is an Australian author who grew up in an old mining town in country South Australia, where her love of history was founded. So much so, she made her darling husband travel to the UK for their honeymoon, where she dragged him from one historical monument and castle to another. A mother of three, her two little gentlemen in the making, a future lady (she hopes) and a part-time job
keep her busy in the real world, but whenever she gets a moment’s peace she loves to write romance novels in an array of genres, including regency, medieval and time travel.
www.tamaragill.com
A Duke at Midnight
Chapter 1
“It only takes a boldness of heart to find unmatched happiness.” AWallflower’s Guide to Becoming a Bride.Author—unknown.
It was that particular book that had brought Miss Sarah Bellamy to the steps of this townhouse, in anticipation of a night of sin and perhaps saucy flirtation. Or at least that was what the rumors promised Lady Scarsdale’s midnight masquerade ball to be—adeliciouslyscandalous party, which was supposed to beperfectfor a spinster who had recently turned eight and twenty and had never been kissed. Everyone knew the aims of a masquerade ball were to be naughty, to skirt the edges of propriety, to have discreet fun when life was uneventful. All manner of wickedness apparently became permissible at Lady Scarsdale’s masquerade parties—kisses, illicit touches, dancing several times with the same partner. Tonight promised to be an exciting adventure.
It was that promise of something different, perhaps thrilling, which had truly prompted Sarah to act in a manner that was potentially ruinous, even for a reputation that was as insignificant as her own. She was lonely. She wanted to experience something wonderful if only once before she went off to Kent to meet her new employer. Her only worry was there was no guarantee she might find that wonder at this ball.
I have never been kissed or received flowers. “Dear God, it is even dreadful to think it,” Sarah muttered, nervously fixing the small, dark red-and-silver mask that covered her eyes and the upper curve of her cheeks. “And why did I ever read that ridiculous book; it wasn’t very thick, so was it a pamphlet?” She clutched the small, elegantly painted fan tightly in her hand. “Oh, what does it matter? Book or pamphlet, I am going inside.”
Still, she hovered indecisively, wondering whether she was being ridiculous to follow the advice of someone she did not know. An author she suspected to be a man, for the sheer idiocy of some of the suggestions. The particular book she spoke about,A Wallflower’s Guide to Becoming a Bride, was a delectable piece of advisory literature written by an unknown author. Some ladies of her acquaintance had sworn they had made the most excellent matchesafterreading the contents of the book.
At first Sarah had not believe it existed. A friend of hers heard about it from another friend who’d heard from another friend that a guide, explaining to ladies coined as wallflowers on how to net themselves suitors, existed in Hatchards bookstore. The story and origin around the damn book were even more enigmatic. Her friend Cassie was unable to say who wrote this guide or where it was published. Of course, Sarah had doubted its existence and pushed aside the rumors. Then a known wallflower, very much on the shelf like Sarah, got married to a most eligible viscount. The match had shocked society for no one had thought Miss Hannah Livingston a lady with any prospects.
How it was at all possible that she achieved such an amazing success, it had been on the lips of many of her acquaintance. Then the whispers in certain selected circles had started.