Chasing the Bride Blog Tour: Excerpt + Giveaway

I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the CHASING THE BRIDE by Erica Ridley Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!

 

CHASING THE BRIDE (Lords in Love #6)
Author: Erica Ridley
Release Date: June 9, 2023
Publisher: WebMotion
Formats: Paperback, eBook
Pages: 197

Find it: Goodreads, https://books2read.com/CHASING-THE-BRIDE 

In this fast, feel-good romp from a New York Times bestselling author, forbidden love blooms between a runaway bride and the man sent to find her…

Lady Tabitha Kerr was promised at birth to be the Viscount Oldfield’s bride. Their families had warred for generations, and this union will heal the longstanding rift. But Tabitha doesn’t want to be a pawn—or a consolation prize. She dreams of a love match, and failing that, at least one night of true love. Even if she has to run away to find it!

As Viscount Oldfield’s trusted man of business, Mr. Hudson Frampton is his lordship’s right-hand man, attack dog, and fixer. When a nervous bride jilts the viscount at the altar, Hudson is meant to find and return her to his employer posthaste. He is not supposed to fall in love. Or kiss his employer’s bride. Or say yes when Tabitha makes an indecent proposal that will ruin them both…

 

Grab all of the LORDS IN LOVE Books now!

CHAPTER 1

London, 1818

Lady Tabitha Kerr stood just outside the door to her father’s sickroom, trying to catch her breath. Although he had never been particularly demonstrative, her father was a good man. She knew this. It was why she had spent a lifetime trying her hardest to please him. And yet what the marquess was forcing his only child to do would confine Tabitha to a life of misery.

She rolled back her shoulders. She could no longer postpone the inevitable. She was a lady now. It was time to act like one. Tabitha tapped her knuckles against the door. It opened instantly. Mr. Hudson Frampton had beaten all other servants to the soft knock. Or else he’d been standing within reach of the handle, which was unlikely. Her betrothed’s guard dog never left his employer’s side, except to follow a direct order. Mr. Frampton always seemed to be everywhere at once, and capable of absolutely anything.

At the moment, he was gazing at her gravely. His solemn expression did nothing to lessen his distracting handsomeness. He was no gentleman, and it showed. His brown hair was a little too long, his cravat creased carelessly, his strong jaw already shadowed with stubble at three o’clock in the afternoon. The omnipresent air of danger emanated from his conspicuous muscles.

He looked like a highwayman, not a viscount’s man of business. Though perhaps the two roles were not so dissimilar. A highwayman robbed passing carriages. Lord Oldfield’s infamous man of business had his fingers in every investment opportunity in London, often reaping greater rewards for the viscount than enjoyed by the poor souls who owned or executed the various operations.

“He’s waiting for you,” Mr. Frampton said softly, his dark brown eyes unreadable.

“Don’t you mean they’re waiting for me?” Lady Tabitha murmured, her correction tinged with bitterness. Viscount Oldfield might be Mr. Frampton’s employer, but both men were in the sickroom of Tabitha’s father.

Mr. Frampton’s dark eyes glittered. “You are, of course, correct. My apologies.”

“It’s all right,” she mumbled under her breath.

It was not all right. Life as she knew it would soon be over. The father she adored, dead. And the sly viscount of equally advanced age standing at the marquess’s bedside… would soon own Tabitha outright, thanks to the legal glories of holy matrimony.

Mr. Frampton stepped aside to let her in.

Tabitha pasted on a smile and went straight to her father, passing both the odious Viscount Oldfield and the kindly physician Dr. Collins in her hurry to kiss her father’s pale forehead and assure herself he would not be leaving her this day, at least.

“Daughter,” the marquess rasped. “A welcome sight for sore eyes.” Her own eyes stung. That was one of the kindest things he had ever said to her. Perhaps confronting his mortality had likewise caused him to cherish the sole familial connection he had left.

“Always my pleasure, Father.” She lifted his frail hand in hers and sent a questioning look toward the physician.

“Stable,” Dr. Collins pronounced, loud enough for the marquess to hear. Then he dropped his white-whiskered mouth to Tabitha’s ear. “But not for long. A month or two, at best. And at worst…”

She pulled her ear away before she could hear the rest of the good doctor’s diagnosis. Tabitha patted her father’s hand instead. A wasting disease was one of the worst ways to die. It stretched on too long. Day after day of knowing death was coming, wiggling its hook in a little more with each passing breath.

It had been two months already. When her father was first diagnosed, they had thought the marquess might hold on for six more months, mayhap another year. But he grew weaker by the day and had been bed-bound for over a month, unable to rise without assistance. This past week, her father had ceased being able to feed himself. The effort of lifting a cup or a fork was too much. Every limb trembled, and every part of him ached.

Tabitha hated seeing him like this. He’d once been so vibrant. Afternoons spent fencing with his friends, or riding his favorite stallion in the park. As much as she appreciated having the opportunity to say goodbye, watching her father die a little more each day was torture.

For his sake, she wished a swift end to his suffering. But for her sake… Father’s inevitable demise was the worst thing that could happen. “You haven’t… greeted your… betrothed,” rasped the marquess. Tabitha gritted her teeth behind a brittle smile and turned the pleasantest face she could muster toward Viscount Oldfield—who, it must be noted, had not greeted her either.

According to legend, such lack of manners was one of the many reasons their families had warred for generations. Both sides believed the other beneath them. Neither side was willing to bend.

Until Father. Bless him and curse him.

Tabitha did not curtsey to her betrothed. “Lord Oldfield. Please forgive my tardiness in greeting you.”

The viscount ran his eyes over her as though he were imagining her naked. “Bah. I’ve no need for a wife who talks,” he murmured, too low for her father to overhear.

Yes. This man thirty-plus years her senior desired her for reasons unrelated to conversation.

Such was her impending marital bliss.

She turned and dropped to her knees beside her father’s sickbed. “Papa, surely you can see—”

“This union will heal a centuries-old rift,” he reminded her, sensing the direction of her plea and putting a stop to it before she could embarrass them both in front of the viscount. “You should be proud to be a vessel of peace.”

A vessel. That was exactly what she was going to be. A hard, empty vessel for Lord Oldfield to fill at his whim and to use as he saw fit. Such unceasing attentions might break her.

“He’s a lord,” the marquess said hoarsely. “You should be grateful I’ve given you to such a fine friend. You might recall that Oldfield saved my life. I can never fully repay him for that. From the moment he and I first guarded the trenches together—”

Another war story. Heaven save her, Lady Tabitha had heard them all, dozens or hundreds of times each.

Father and Viscount Oldfield had met as British soldiers stationed together in the French revolutionary war, in the early 1790s. They’d both been raised to despise the other’s family, but nonetheless had become unlikely friends, united against a common foe. And when it had mattered most, Oldfield had been there for the marquess.

“He’s like a brother to me,” Father continued.

Tabitha wanted to scream, You wouldn’t betroth your daughter to your brother, much less whilst still in the womb, but she held silent. It didn’t matter what she said. Father was the marquess, and his word was law.

“Besides,” her father said gently. “You’ve always hated to see people upset or at odds. Your marriage will wipe clean a century of bigotry and prejudice. You should be proud to play such an important role, daughter. You love to restore peace. And a titled match makes you the envy of your peers. You have better fortune than most.”

Yes, yes, all of that was true, but…

Still on her knees at her father’s side, Tabitha cast a despairing glance up at Viscount Oldfield. He leered at her, displaying the multicolored teeth jockeying in his mouth. He’d lost several in the war. All of which had been replaced by teeth scavenged from the French corpses littering the battlefield.

She would get to think of that every time the viscount kissed her. Tabitha shuddered. She couldn’t help it.

“It’s your turn to serve the greater good, daughter.” Father tilted his head toward the viscount. “Can you procure a special license?” “No!” Tabitha scrambled to her feet. “I cannot marry yet. I’m not ready. This is… It isn’t a good time. In fact, I won’t have a free moment for a fortnight. I’m…” What could she conceivably be doing that would be more important than marrying a viscount? “I-I’ve already promised to attend the May Day festival in Marrywell. It lasts a week, and I must leave by morning to arrive for the opening ceremony.”

Father held her gaze, then cast his exhausted eyes up toward Dr. Collins. “If we read the banns first, what are the chances I will live long enough to attend the wedding ceremony?”

Tabitha sagged with relief—and guilt. She did not wish to disappoint her father or to cause him pain. A good daughter knew her duty and fulfilled it without question. Was she being selfish by not rushing into an unwanted marriage with a lecherous roué over twice her age? “Shall you last another three weeks, milord? I should think so,” said the physician. “You’re not quite at death’s door yet.”

“But I have arrived outside its residence,” the marquess said dryly, only to be wracked by a rattling cough.

Viscount Oldfield jerked his gaze toward his attack dog. “Hudson, see that the first banns are read tomorrow.”

Mr. Frampton nodded. “It will be done.”

Lady Tabitha let out her breath. The banns would be read three consecutive Sundays. Fifteen days total, from the first reading to the last. It was not much of a reprieve, but it was at least something.

“Oldfield,” rasped the marquess. “Procure a special license as well. If I should worsen faster than expected…”

Tabitha swallowed. Her final fortnight of freedom would be curtailed in a second if there was cause to believe her father unable to hold on for the full reading of the banns.

“Consider it done,” Mr. Frampton assured both men, without looking at Tabitha.

The marquess’s pale blue eyes found his daughter. “Daughter…” “I know, Father,” she murmured. “I promise to make you proud.” Even if it destroyed any hope of her own happiness.

Seeing his only child wed to his old comrade-in-arms was the marquess’s literal dying wish. The marriage would bring peace after generations of fighting. And the promise had already been made.

Only a monster would prioritize her own selfish preferences above the wishes of her dying father and the peace and happiness her sacrifice would bring future generations.

She sighed. A daughter’s duty was to her father. Any other, less privileged young lady wouldn’t even view this marriage as a sacrifice.

Viscount Oldfield was wealthy and titled. An unattainable dream, for most. A coup Tabitha had lucked into from birth, no effort required. She was fortunate. The envy of debutantes everywhere, who would take her place at the altar in a heartbeat.

Tabitha wished she could let them.

“As it happens,” said Viscount Oldfield, as he resumed his open leering, “I have plans to attend the May Day festival as well.”

Oh no.

The viscount dipped his eyes toward Tabitha’s bodice. “You can ride with me.”

An eight-hour drive trapped in a private carriage with him? Untenable. “Of course,” the viscount continued, “I cannot leave until Wednesday —”

Tabitha seized on the opening. “I cannot wait that long. I’ve several appointments to keep, and must be off at first light. I’m very sorry the timing doesn’t—”

Viscount Oldfield gestured at Mr. Frampton. “Go with her.” “What? There’s no need to send your—” Attack dog. “—man of business,” she protested. “Mr. Frampton belongs with you. Besides, I already have a maid. One who is well-versed in playing chaperone.” “Tabitha,” gasped the marquess. “Do as your future husband commands. You will soon vow to love and obey him. It wouldn’t hurt to start practicing that obedience now.”

She ground her teeth behind a tight smile. “Very well. I’ll take Mr. Frampton. We’ll meet you at the festival, Lord Oldfield.”

His eyes still hadn’t left her bodice. “See that you do.”

Tabitha nodded woodenly. Her fortnight of freedom had become anything but free. Instead, she was trapped.

Tomorrow’s long journey was the beginning of the end.

Erica Ridley is a New York Times and USA Today best-selling author of of witty, feel-good historical romance novels, including THE DUKE HEIST, featuring the Wild Wynchesters. Why seduce a duke the normal way, when you can accidentally kidnap one in an elaborately planned heist?

In the 12 Dukes of Christmas series, enjoy witty, heartwarming Regency romps nestled in a picturesque snow-covered village. After all, nothing heats up a winter night quite like finding oneself in the arms of a duke!

Two other popular series, the Dukes of War and Rogues to Riches, feature roguish peers and dashing war heroes who find love amongst the splendor and madness of Regency England.

When not reading or writing romances, Erica can be found eating couscous in Morocco, zip-lining through rainforests in Costa Rica, or getting hopelessly lost in the middle of Budapest.

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(1) winner will receive a $10 Amazon GC courtesy of Rockstar Book Tours - International.

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Tour Schedule:

Week One:

6/5/2023	Two Chicks on Books	Excerpt/IG Post
6/5/2023	Cara North	Excerpt/IG Post
6/6/2023	Sadie's Spotlight	Excerpt/IG Post
6/6/2023	Nerdophiles	Excerpt
6/7/2023	#BRVL Book Review Virginia Lee Blog	Excerpt/IG Post
6/7/2023	The Reading Life	Excerpt/IG Post
6/8/2023	A Dream Within A Dream	Excerpt
6/8/2023	The Momma Spot	Excerpt
6/9/2023	Country Mamas With Kids	Review/IG Post
6/9/2023	Rajiv's Reviews	Review/IG Post

Week Two:

6/12/2023	Confessions of the Perfect Mom	Review/IG Post
6/12/2023	A Blue Box Full of Books	IG Review
6/13/2023	Satisfaction for Insatiable Readers	Review/IG Post
6/13/2023	@enjoyingbooksagain	IG Review
6/14/2023	Brandi Danielle Davis	IG Review/TikTok Post
6/14/2023	More Books Please blog	Review/IG Post
6/15/2023	The Chirpy Bookaholic	Review/IG Post
6/15/2023	Romance_matcha_andpaperbacks	IG Review/TikTok Post
6/16/2023	Fire and Ice	Review/IG Post
6/16/2023	@dreaminginpages	IG Review

Beguiling the Duke Blog Tour: Excerpt + Giveaway

I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the BEGUILING THE DUKE by Darcy Burke Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!

 

BEGUILING THE DUKE (Lords in Love #1)
Author: Darcy Burke
Release Date: March 7, 2023
Publisher: Zealous Quill Press
Formats: Paperback, eBook
Pages: 195

Find it: Goodreads, https://books2read.com/BEGUILING-THE-DUKE 

On the way to meet his future wife, the Duke of Lawford’s coach loses a wheel. Repair is impossible because he’s landed in Marrywell on the first day of their annual May Day Matchmaking Festival and everyone is on holiday. Furthermore, there are no rooms to let, so Law must accept the hospitality of a country squire or, more accurately, from his beautiful, clever daughter who obviously runs the household.

After a disastrous foray at the matchmaking festival four years ago, Sadie Campion has mostly hidden away at home. But at twenty-four, this may be her last chance to marry and have a home and family of her own. When her unexpected houseguest offers to help her attract a husband, she can hardly refuse and, on the duke’s arm, becomes the belle of the festival.

As they grow closer and attraction simmers between them, Law wonders if she is the match he was destined to make…

Pre order all of the LORDS IN LOVE books now!

Chapter One 

May 1816 

Marrywell, England 

Sadie Campion marched across the damp ground after dropping a loaf of Mrs. Rowell’s fresh bread at Sadie’s eldest brother’s cottage. He hadn’t been at home—he was out in the sheep pasture with their father—and his wife had been chasing their three-year-old son around the parlor while clutching the one-year-old boy on her hip. That had prompted Sadie to take her youngest nephew and amuse him for a good half hour so his mother could have a respite. But now Sadie was behind in her regimen for the day. 

Quickening her pace, she glanced up at the gray sky. “Don’t you rain again. Or at least do me the courtesy of waiting until after I clean the front door. I’d rather not have to add changing clothes to my list of things to do.” 

Sadie strode to the front of the house where she’d placed the broom and ladder that she planned to use outside the door. When she reached the porch, she put her basket down and set the ladder in place. She plucked up the broom and climbed the ladder, frowning at the cobwebs that had been there for too long now. But what was she to do? There simply wasn’t enough time in the day for her to complete everything that needed to be done. 

Though her father would balk and say he didn’t want to spend the money, Sadie needed to talk to him about hiring at least one more person to help. It didn’t have to be a housekeeper, though that would be nice, just someone who could take on a variety of tasks that never seemed to be completed because there weren’t enough people at Fieldstone to do everything. 

Working quickly—both because she was behind, and she was now slightly irritated by her father’s obliviousness to how hard she worked—she didn’t look to see if there was anything living in the webs. So when the spider landed on her forehead, she yelped. She also let go of the ladder and lost her balance, falling backward. 

Panic flashed through her. She didn’t have time to be hurt! 

Instead of hitting the ground, she landed on…someone. The large figure didn’t quite catch her, but his strong arms came around her. “Careful,” a masculine voice murmured near her ear. 

His deep tone and solid form against her back soothed her. She inhaled his sandalwood scent and felt a stirring of awareness as well as curiosity. This was obviously not one of her brothers or her father. Nor was it their groom or the land manager. Who, then, was it? 

Sadie turned to see an astonishingly handsome gentleman she’d never clapped eyes on before. Tall and white with deep-set eyes the color of walnuts and lips that were surely too full for a man, he regarded her with concern. His features were strong and patrician, with a prominent brow and a square jaw, and he looked to be about thirty years of age. He wore a stylish hat, but she could just make out blond hair beneath it. 

“Why on earth are you climbing a ladder without assistance?” he asked, sounding a trifle annoyed as his brows pitched down over his eyes. “What if I hadn’t been here to catch you?” His presumptuous questions dispelled the enchantment that had come over her. 

Sadie took a step back, clutching the broom. The gentleman wasn’t alone. There were two other men standing just beyond him. One, who was a few years older than the rude Adonis, cradled his left arm and wore a pained expression. He possessed a snub nose and thick, dark brows. The other man was perhaps twenty years older than the man who’d caught Sadie. He had a long nose and a sharp chin. His cravat was perhaps the most intricately tied neckcloth Sadie had ever seen. 

“Who are you, and why are you here?” Sadie asked pertly, even as her body still tingled from where her body had touched his. 

“He is the Duke of Lawford, and you should mind your tone,” the older man answered, his dark gray brows pitched into an angry V. 

The blond man shot a look toward the older man before addressing Sadie. “Our coach has lost a wheel. My coachman has injured his arm, and my valet knocked his head.” 

Sadie gasped. “You lost a wheel? Goodness, you are all lucky you weren’t more seriously injured.” 

“I’m fine,” the older man insisted as he continued to glower at Sadie. She looked back toward the “duke.” Was he really a duke? Perhaps they weren’t more badly hurt because the accident had never happened. Indeed, this entire scenario seemed highly unlikely, and it would be just like her brothers to play a joke like this. Sadie narrowed one eye at Adonis. “How do I know you’re a duke? And did you really suffer a mishap?” 

“Of all the impertinence!” the older man snapped, his eyes flashing in outrage. 

The supposed duke exhaled. “If it’s not too much trouble, Mrs…?” 

“Miss Campion.” 

The duke’s eyes widened slightly as if he found her unmarried state surprising. Perhaps he did. As a woman of twenty-four, she was practically on the shelf. 

“Miss Campion, I am indeed the Duke of Lawford. If it’s not too much trouble, might we borrow a vehicle to continue to the nearest town so we may find a physician and someone to repair my coach?” the duke asked. 

Oh dear, it sounded as if he had no idea where they were. Or when. 

“Ah, why don’t you come inside?” Sadie said, summoning a smile as she was about to ruin their day even more. 

“I don’t wish to trouble your employer,” the duke said smoothly. 

Her…what? He likely thought she was a maid. Or the housekeeper—perhaps that was why “Miss” instead of “Mrs.” had surprised him. As housekeeper, she would be Mrs. Campion, whether she was married or not. Sadie glanced down at the mud on her hem from walking across the estate earlier and didn’t have to touch her head to know that a great many curls had escaped her chignon. It was more than believable that she was an employee at Fieldstone instead of the daughter of the owner. 

She didn’t take the time to disabuse the duke of his assumption. “You really need to come inside…to sort things out. Please allow me to offer you some refreshment, and I’ll send for the doctor. Marrywell isn’t two miles down the road.” She gestured west with the broom. 

“Marrywell? I am not familiar with it,” the duke said with authority. “Perhaps someone can drive us into town to see the doctor? Then I can hire a coach to continue driving us to our destination.” 

The man was likely used to getting his way. She gave him a bland smile. “If you’ll just come inside, I’ll be happy to explain why none of that will be possible, unfortunately.” 

The duke blinked, and his blond brows arched. “I beg your pardon?” 

“You’ve arrived on the first day of the Marrywell May Day Matchmaking Festival. No one is available for hire to drive you anywhere, and I daresay there won’t be anyone to repair your coach. Not until the festival concludes. In a week. We could take all of you to town in our, ah, carriage or the much sturdier cart, however I think you will be more comfortable waiting here while the doctor is alerted to your needs.” 

The older man—the valet, Sadie deduced—stepped forward. “That is unacceptable. This is the Duke of Lawford.” 

Goodness, did the man think the duke was some sort of deity? 

Sadie tried one last time. “Please come inside, at the very least so your coachman can rest.” 

The duke’s gaze flicked toward the house, a sprawling, several-times-expanded farmhouse that lacked a uniform style. One might call it “charming” or “quaint.” She could only imagine what an esteemed peer thought of it. 

“It sounds as if we’ll need to secure lodging,” the duke said with a slight frown. 

Sadie gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible either. Every inn within a ten-mile radius will be booked to the rafters for the festival. Please, just come inside. We can discuss your options while your coachman rests.” 

The duke turned his head to the man holding his arm. “Come, Holden, let’s get you some tea.” 

“Thank you, Your Grace.” The coachman winced as he moved forward, and Sadie noticed he was also limping. 

Sadie hastened to move the ladder. While she set the broom down first, however, the duke picked up the ladder and moved it out of the way of the door. 

“Thank you,” she murmured, adding, “Your Grace.” She picked up her basket and opened the door, gesturing for all three men to go inside. 

Walking into the entrance hall, she led them on through the staircase hall into the parlor. She’d never been embarrassed of her home, and she still wasn’t, but she had to think their modest domicile was not up to ducal standards. The furniture was well cared for, but certainly not new, and the room, as a whole, didn’t pretend to possess any sense of style. 

Sadie held out her hand. “Please sit wherever you’d like. I will have our groom run into town to fetch Dr. Bigby.” 

The coachman sat carefully in a chair and the valet on the settee while the duke remained standing. “Your groom?” Lawford asked. “Who are you exactly?” 

Before she could respond, her father and eldest brother, Esmond, burst in. 

“Damn me, there’s a wrecked coach on the road!” Esmond blinked his jewel-green eyes at the three visitors. 

Sadie’s father, Winchell Campion, glanced toward the duke and his men, his brown gaze cautious and perhaps even judgmental. “Sadie, who are these gentlemen?” 

“Father, Esmond, allow me to present His Grace, the Duke of Lawford. That is his coach on the road.” 

The duke’s eyes narrowed slightly as he regarded Sadie with a sudden blatant curiosity. “Your father owns this estate?” 

Sadie gestured to her father and then her brother. “Yes, this is Winchell Campion, owner of Fieldstone and squire. This is my eldest brother, Esmond.” 

“Your wheel came clean off!” Esmond said excitedly, sweeping off his hat to reveal his dark brown curls. “I bet that scared the piss out of you!” He laughed jovially, and Sadie stared at him. 

Their father jabbed an elbow into Esmond’s side. “That is no way to greet a duke. Or anyone else, for that matter.” 

Esmond straightened and schooled his features into a more serious expression. It was an astonishing transformation and one that typically only their dear departed mother or Esmond’s wife could provoke. “Welcome, Duke,” he said. 

“It’s ‘Your Grace,’” Sadie said softly. “Father, we need to fetch Dr. Bigby. The coachman’s arm is injured, and the valet hit his head.” 

The duke pivoted toward her father. “I said we could call on the doctor in town since we have to find lodging. However, your daughter has indicated this will not be possible.” 

“No, it will not,” her father said with a laugh. “There’s nary a room between here and Winchester.” 

“Then we’ll hire a coach to drive us to our destination,” the duke said, as if Sadie hadn’t already explained that wouldn’t be possible. Did he not believe her? 

“I told him that wouldn’t work either.” Sadie didn’t bother hiding her exasperation. 

“Listen to Sadie,” her father said. “She knows what’s what, and you won’t find a more clever girl.” 

“She mentioned you have a carriage. I would pay you handsomely if we could borrow it. I’ll have it returned as soon as possible.” 

Sadie’s father laughed. “That carriage barely makes it to Marrywell and back. No, no, I’m afraid I couldn’t allow you to risk yourselves, especially not after the bad luck you’ve already experienced. Indeed, there’s no vehicle at Fieldstone that will suffice. Do not despair, however! You’ll stay here. We’ve plenty of room, especially since Philip wed a few months ago.” He referred to Sadie’s other older brother, who, like Esmond, lived in a cottage on the estate. 

“We couldn’t impose,” the duke said tightly. 

Her father walked to him and clapped him on the shoulder, oblivious to the duke’s eyes subtly rounding. “You must, and that’s all there is to it. Your coach is in dire need of repair, and you won’t find anyone to fix it until after the festival. Is your, er, wife with you?” 

The duke’s aristocratic jaw clenched as he looked down his nose at Sadie’s shorter father. “I do not have a duchess. When, pray tell, will the festival conclude?” 

Sadie had also told him that detail. Had he heard nothing she’d said? She pursed her lips at him in annoyance. 

“In a week.” Sadie’s father looked positively delighted. 

“That is unacceptable!” the valet snapped. 

“It is unfortunate,” the duke murmured. 

While Sadie’s father might be pleased to host the duke, Sadie found him arrogant. As well as attractive. No! That didn’t signify. “Can’t Jarvis repair the coach?” she asked. Jarvis was their retired groom and coachman. He lived in a small cottage on the estate. 

“We can’t ask him to do that, not with his arthritic hands,” her father protested. 

“Perhaps he could advise Esmond and Philip, and they could do the actual work,” Sadie suggested. “I’m sure Adam and Richard could help too.” Those were her younger unmarried brothers. 

“I can direct them,” Holden said. “Can’t do much with my arm like this, but mayhap tomorrow, I can instruct them on how to repair the coach.” He shifted in the chair and promptly grimaced. Sadie felt certain he would hurt even more tomorrow and would need to rest. 

“Yes,” the valet said quickly. “We must do whatever is necessary to see His Grace on his way at the earliest possible moment.” 

“Yates, everyone will do their best, but our accident has occurred at an inopportune time,” the duke said to the older man, sounding beleaguered. Lawford then shifted his gaze to Sadie. “I would appreciate if you could enlist whomever you can to work with Holden to complete the repair. I’ll pay you for the work and whatever you need.” The duke looked to his coachman. “I can help you if necessary.” 

Yates appeared horrified. “You cannot perform manual labor. They must have a coach we can borrow,” he insisted. 

Lawford swung his gaze back to Sadie’s father, but it was Sadie who responded. “We do not have a vehicle sufficient for your needs. Our coach is old and…well, it’s inadequate for long trips.” Decrepit was the best description, but Sadie wasn’t going to say that. 

The valet appeared thoroughly outraged. “But His Grace has important business that he must attend to.” 

Yes, well, Sadie needed to not have her orderly life interrupted either. She thought of all the tasks that weren’t getting done while she dealt with this crisis. And would continue to deal with if they hosted a very important guest for a week. Not to mention how their arrival would affect her plans to attend the matchmaking festival. The welcome reception was that very afternoon and set the stage for the entire weeklong event. All young ladies seeking to be matched attended the reception, as well as the May Queen, who chose seven of those ladies to be maidens fair. The queen and her court were the focal point of the festival, and being a maiden fair meant almost certain betrothal by the end of the festival. At twenty-four, Sadie was the same age as the oldest maiden fair ever chosen. This year was her last chance to find a husband—to have a home and family of her own. 

Sadie needed to finish her chores so she could get ready. “I’m sure my brothers—with Holden’s or Jarvis’s instruction—can manage the repair, and you’ll be on to your destination in no time. Mayhap even tomorrow.” 

Her father shook his head vigorously. “Impossible. Replacing the wheel will take a few days at least.” 

Yates opened his mouth, but the duke held up his hand toward him while keeping his focus on Sadie. The older man pressed his lips together. 

Their maid Mavis came in and glanced around the room with interest. 

Sadie had meant to ring for her, but things had been too chaotic. She moved next to Mavis and spoke quietly. “This is the Duke of Lawford and his coachman and valet. Their coach lost its wheel, and they’ll be staying with us for…a while.” 

“Bad luck for them unless they’re happy to attend a matchmaking festival.” Mavis grinned, then her gaze settled on the coachman. “I wouldn’t mind if he came along,” she whispered. 

Ignoring the maid’s saucy observation, Sadie continued, “We need rooms prepared and a tea tray. Are you terribly busy helping Mrs. Rowell?” Their cook made the cakes for the welcome reception, and they were likely in the middle of boxing them all and loading the cart. 

“Gwen and Bryan can keep helping her,” Mavis said, referring to the other maid, who primarily assisted Mrs. Rowell in the scullery, and Mrs. Rowell’s son, who was their groom. 

Sadie grimaced. “We need Bryan to summon Dr. Bigby. His Grace’s coachman has hurt his arm, and his valet hit his head. But if you’re all leaving soon to set up at the reception, he can just take care of it then.” 

Mavis shook her head. “I’ll send him now.” 

“And Gwen should bring tea,” Sadie said. 

“I’ll let her know.” Mavis waggled her dark brows. “Nothing like a bit of excitement on the first day of the festival!” 

Sadie didn’t want this kind of excitement when she was trying to get her chores done so she could go to the reception! 

Mavis looked to the coachman, who was wincing at that moment. “He looks to be in pain. I’ll get his room sorted straightaway.” She left the parlor with haste. 

Sadie addressed their guests. “We’ll have tea in a few minutes, and hopefully, the doctor will arrive within the hour. Your rooms will be ready shortly. Is there anything else we can do for you at the moment?” Sadie was desperate to get on with the things she needed to complete before the reception, but wondered if she ought to stay and entertain the duke. She dearly hoped not. 

“I don’t suppose you could see about removing my coach from the road?” the duke asked. 

“Of course.” Sadie turned her head toward her father and brother. “Papa? Esmond?” 

“Yes, yes,” Papa said. “Esmond! Fetch your brothers and move His Grace’s coach.” 

Sadie should have realized her father wouldn’t help. He much preferred to direct, and even then, he was content to let Sadie manage nearly everything. 

Before Esmond could go, the duke stopped him. “Mr. Campion, if you also wouldn’t mind bringing our cases to the house since we are to be…staying here, I would be most appreciative.” 

Esmond nodded. “Right away, My Grace.” 

Wincing inwardly, Sadie hoped the duke hadn’t noticed that her brother didn’t know the slightest thing about proper address. Sadie wasn’t sure she knew all the rules. 

The coachman, Holden, stood abruptly. He clenched his jaw and clutched his injured arm more tightly. “I must retire. Doesn’t matter if a room’s prepared. Do you have something in the stables?” 

“I’m afraid not,” Sadie replied, hating to see the man in pain. “You should be in the house anyway, so the doctor can examine your arm. We’ll have your room ready in no time. In fact, I’ll go see to it.” That would get her out of the parlor so she could finish her chores. 

Pivoting, she left the room but was stopped in the staircase hall by her father, who’d followed her. “Where are you going?” 

“To help Mavis prepare the rooms. That should have been obvious since I said as much.” 

“I mean, why are you leaving the duke? You need to stay and entertain him.” 

Sadie looked down at her attire and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “Am I garbed for entertaining? No. I’m dressed for chores. Please let me complete them before I need to prepare for the reception.” 

“You’re going?” he asked, surprised. 

“I’m sure I mentioned it.” 

“I would have remembered,” he said with misplaced certainty. “You’ve only attended—as a potential bride—once. I thought you never meant to return.” 

That had been her intent after the disastrous first year she’d attended the festival as a potential bride. Sadie brushed the memory away. She couldn’t afford to let it occupy her mind when she was, in fact, hoping to use the festival for what it was intended—to find a husband. “I’m twenty-four, Father.” Sadie was out of time, which was why she needed to attend the reception this year. “Don’t you think it’s time I wed?” 

“In fact, I do,” he said, shocking her. He’d never shown the slightest interest in her marital prospects. He was content to have her here managing Fieldstone’s household. “And we must thank divine intervention for the arrival of a duke on our doorstep.” He grinned, his dark eyes dancing with excitement. 

What on earth was her father doing? “I would appreciate you not matching me with the duke. That isn’t even within the realm of possibility.” 

“Why not?” he asked, sounding petulant. “You are pretty and capable. I wager you could manage his ducal estate with ease.” 

She stared at him, wishing he expressed appreciation of her skills when there wasn’t a duke involved. “Then consider this: I don’t want to manage his ducal estate.” The idea of wedding a duke was preposterous. She wouldn’t know the first thing. “I’m going to the reception, where, if I am lucky, the queen will choose me to be crowned one of her seven maidens fair tonight.” That was Sadie’s best chance of making a match. The maidens fair were the most sought after by the bachelors seeking to wed. 

Her father appeared nonplussed. “Why do you need to be a maiden fair or even attend the festival when you have a duke right here?” 

Sadie exerted considerable effort not to roll her eyes. “I’m going to prepare the rooms, then do the rest of my chores. You entertain His Grace. And do not play matchmaker. He’s a duke and I’m a…I don’t know what I am,” she muttered. 

She marched up the stairs and met Mavis in the corridor. The maid carried a stack of linens. “I was just taking these to His Grace’s chamber. Then I’m going to run up and take care of the room for the coachman and valet.” 

“I can make the duke’s bed,” Sadie offered, taking the linens. “Put the coachman and valet in the room at the end of the corridor.” It was the largest on the second floor and had two beds. Only two rooms on that level were occupied—by Mavis and Gwen. Mrs. Rowell lived in a cottage on the estate with her husband and their son. 

“That was my thought as well,” Mavis said. She inclined her head down the corridor. “The duke will be right across from you.” 

Sadie briefly closed her eyes. “You aren’t going to play matchmaker like my father, are you?” 

The maid, who was a few years older than Sadie and had been with the household for over five years, smiled as disbelief flickered in her gaze. “That’s surprising to hear, but I suppose it’s not every day a duke lands on one’s doorstep.” 

“What is it about a duke that makes everyone atwitter?” Sadie mused. 

“Come now, don’t tell me you don’t find him handsome,” Mavis said with a sly smile. 

She did, in fact. And arrogant. Shaking her head, Sadie walked past Mavis feeling disgruntled. 

Everyone viewed the arrival of a duke as some sort of splendid opportunity for Sadie, but to her, it was a massive imposition. She liked order and routine as she had a great many things to manage on a daily basis. This week, she’d planned on attending the entire festival for the first time in four years, and now that was in jeopardy because of the additional work having the duke here would bring. 

She would just have to make do. This was her last chance to be chosen as a maiden fair, which would all but guarantee she would wed. Then, she could manage her own household and have her own family. 

If not, she’d become the Spinster of Fieldstone. And life would pass her by. 

Darcy Burke is the USA Today Bestselling Author of sexy, emotional historical and contemporary romance. Darcy wrote her first book at age 11, a happily ever after about a swan addicted to magic and the female swan who loved him, with exceedingly poor illustrations. Click here to Join her Reader Club.

A native Oregonian, Darcy lives on the edge of wine country with her guitar-strumming husband, artist daughter, and imaginative son who will almost certainly out-write her one day (that may be tomorrow).

They’re a crazy cat family with two Bengal cats, a small, fame-seeking cat named after a fruit, an older rescue Maine Coon with attitude to spare, and a collection of neighbor cats who hang out on the deck and occasionally venture inside. You can find Darcy at a winery, in her comfy writing chair, or binge-watching TV with the family.

Her happy places are Disneyland, Labor Day weekend at the Gorge, Denmark, and anywhere in the UK—so long as her family is there too.

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Tour Schedule:

Week One:

3/6/2023	Writer of Wrongs	Excerpt
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3/7/2023	#BRVL Book Review Virginia Lee Blog	Excerpt/IG Post
3/7/2023	Jazzy Book Reviews	Excerpt/IG Post
3/8/2023	Satisfaction for Insatiable Readers	Review/IG Post
3/8/2023	Books and Kats	Excerpt
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3/10/2023	Just Another Reader	Review/IG Post
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3/13/2023	Dreaminginpages	IG Review
3/13/2023	Country Mamas With Kids	Review/IG Post
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3/14/2023	Books and Zebras	IG Review
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