Blurb:
Damaged physically and sexually, Melanie the Dowager
Duchess of Yaxley escapes from an abusive
son in law to become a housekeeper in a remote Northumbrian village. The Master
of the house, Jarrow, is a widower with a delightful daughter, but few funds. Jarrow has his scars, but he also has a secret life that
unnerves Melanie when she discovers what it is that occupies his nights.
This historical romance with its great sense of time and setting, leads the
reader through the clash of the scarred personalities, troubles with excise men
to a resolution which surprises them both. Slowly
Melanie realizes that Jarrow might just be the man who can make her believe in
second chances.
Excerpt:
‘Gavington House, Miss.’
The coachman, no doubt anxious to reach his journey’s end
before dark, was briskly polite as he drew the coach to a halt on the road
between Corbridge and Morpeth. Descending unaided and with some difficulty, given
her hooped skirt, she saw he had deposited her bag beside the imposing stone
pillars of an open gateway. He tipped his hat to her and sprang back up to his
perch with a cry to his horses. She watched the coach roll along the lane, and
waved away the cloud of dust and grit that flew up behind the large wheels.
Green hedgerows divided greener fields, and there was not a
dwelling in sight. Looking around, Melanie shivered. The snarling griffins with
claws dug into the top of the stone gateposts added to her feeling of unease.
Stepping closer, she realised the griffins protected a date incised into the
stone beneath them: 1524. Gavington House had stood here for three hundred and
forty years.
A little unnerved by such a span of time, Melanie stooped,
gripped the handles of her portmanteau and marched between the gate posts with
a determined stride. The gates had been opened and then abandoned some time
ago, for tall weeds grew on both sides of them. Odd, she thought, as she walked
along the weedy gravel drive that led through a shadowy clump of pine trees. Though
she had packed only the necessities and a fresh gown for tomorrow’s interview, her
leather bag was heavy and the gravel drive did not make for easy walking. Full
of shallow gradients and curves, it wound through the trees in a most annoying
way. Now and then, through gaps in the foliage, she caught sight of what must
be Gavington House.
Had she been in the comfort of a sprung carriage, she would
have found the approach charming and no doubt been delighted with each pretty
vista as it appeared. But after twenty minutes of energetic walking, Melanie
hesitated. The drive was about to take one of its unnecessary bends away from
the house, which was plainly visible two hundred yards away in the opposite
direction.
With a frustrated sigh, Melanie gripped her bag firmly,
brushed through the low hanging branches and strode out across the lawn. If she
were shot for it, she would not follow that drive an instant longer. Hurrying
across the open stretch of recently scythed grass, she glanced over her
shoulder, half expecting an irate gardener or gamekeeper to chase her off the
hallowed turf.
No comments:
Post a Comment