Gentleman Always Remembers

Zusatztext "Like Camp's other books! this one is beautifully crafted. The characters are so real you feel as though you know them! and the feisty matchmaker and the stubborn duke make a memorable couple." -- Booklist on The Courtship Dance Informationen zum Autor Candace Camp is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of more than sixty novels of contemporary and historical romance! including the bestselling Regency romances Enraptured! Treasured! and The Marrying Season. She grew up in Texas in a newspaper family! which explains her love of writing! but she earned a law degree and practiced law before making the decision to write full time. She has received several writing awards! including the RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award. Visit her at Candace-Camp.com. Klappentext The second novel in "New York Times"-bestselling novelist Camp's Willowmere series! a delightful new set of Regency romances. Original. A Gentleman Always Remembers 1 APRIL 1807 I t was raining. It had been doing so, Jack thought in disgust, ever since he set foot in this benighted land. Sometimes the water fell in slanted sheets, lashing him like bits of iron; other times, it subsided into a steady, miserable drizzle. But even when the rain stopped briefly, mist still hung over everything, as if the very air were so laden with moisture it could not hold it. A cold drop of water slid between cloth and skin, trickling down his back, and Jack turned up the collar of his greatcoat as he gazed out across the bleak landscape. The roadif this rutted, narrow path could be termed that cut across thick mats of heather and disappeared into the distance. There were few trees between him and the gray curtain of mist, only the brown and green land and a few scrubby bushes. Off to his right, a trench had been dug into the ground, exposing a straight wall of black earth. Rocks of all sizes dotted the lumpy, irregular ground, adding to the image of desolation. What had possessed him to come to Scotland? He had asked himself that question last night as he'd lain on the thin straw mattress in the grim little inn in Kinclannochindeed he'd asked it almost nightly for the past week, and had still not come up with a satisfactory answer. There was no reason to see the house that was now his or to talk to the people who worked on the estate. His only desire was to sell the place, which fortune had dropped in his lap like an overripe plum. Whatever little tickle of proprietary instinct had made him want to see it, whatever odd pull he'd felt at the thought of being a landed gentleman, the truth was his impulsive journey up here to claim the estate made him as big a fool as the bird-witted Scotsman who had wagered his home on the turn of a card. Still, it made even less sense to turn back now, when he had drawn so close to his destination. If he had understood the innkeeper's thick brogue, the house could not be much farther. His horse whickered and shifted as a gust of wind whipped through them, driving the rain into Jack's face and nearly taking his hat with it. He grabbed the once elegant, now sodden, hat, jamming it more firmly down on his head, and leaned over to stroke a soothing hand down the horse's neck. Steady on, Pharaoh. Now, blown by the wind, the mist receded, and he could see the narrow loch and, at last, the house. It lay on a shelf of rock beside the water, a long, straight line of stone unbroken by curve or ornamentation. As gray and dreary as the loch and the sky above it, the house might have been formed out of this bleak landscape itself. Baillannan . If Jack had harbored some hope that the sight of his new home would lighten his mood, he knew now he was ...

"Like Camp’s other books, this one is beautifully crafted. The characters are so real you feel as though you know them, and the feisty matchmaker and the stubborn duke make a memorable couple." --Booklist on The Courtship Dance

Autorentext
Candace Camp is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of more than sixty novels of contemporary and historical romance, including the bestselling Regency romances Enraptured, Treasured, and The Marrying Season. She grew up in Texas in a newspaper family, which explains her love of writing, but she earned a law degree and practiced law before making the decision to write full time. She has received several writing awards, including the RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award. Visit her at Candace-Camp.com.

Klappentext

The second novel in "New York Times"-bestselling novelist Camp's Willowmere series, a delightful new set of Regency romances. Original.

Zusammenfassung
New York Times bestselling author Candace Camp’s delectable Willowmere series continues with the story of the accomplished and pretty widow who takes on the American Bascombe sisters for their London debut—only to discover that, when it comes to love, she is the one who is unprepared.

Married young to a charming but improvident army officer, Eve Hawthorne was widowed with little left except for a few extravagant trifles. Desperate to avoid her domineering stepmother, she accepts employment as chaperone to the Earl of Stewkesbury’s American cousins. Who better than a levelheaded widow to remind these young girls that they no longer live on a frontier?

But when she flirts with a handsome stranger who turns out to be the earl’s brother Fitz, Eve worries she’s given the wrong impression. Trying to prove herself responsible—with Fitz challenging her at every turn—is hard enough, but a blackmailer with an interest in Eve’s prior marriage proves far more troubling. With the earl away, Eve can turn only to Fitz for help. But dare she confide in him, when getting too close to this confirmed bachelor might risk her heart to his alluring ways?

Leseprobe
A Gentleman Always Remembers

1

APRIL 1807

It was raining. It had been doing so, Jack thought in disgust, ever since he set foot in this benighted land. Sometimes the water fell in slanted sheets, lashing him like bits of iron; other times, it subsided into a steady, miserable drizzle. But even when the rain stopped briefly, mist still hung over everything, as if the very air were so laden with moisture it could not hold it.

A cold drop of water slid between cloth and skin, trickling down his back, and Jack turned up the collar of his greatcoat as he gazed out across the bleak landscape. The road—if this rutted, narrow path could be termed that— cut across thick mats of heather and disappeared into the distance. There were few trees between him and the gray curtain of mist, only the brown and green land and a few scrubby bushes. Off to his right, a trench had been dug into the ground, exposing a straight wall of black earth. Rocks of all sizes dotted the lumpy, irregular ground, adding to the image of desolation.

What had possessed him to come to Scotland?

He had asked himself that question last night as he’d lain on the thin straw mattress in the grim little inn in Kinclannoch—indeed he’d asked it almost nightly for the past week, and had still not come up with a satisfactory answer. There was no reason to see the house that was now his or to talk to the people who worked on the estate. His only desire was to sell the place, which fortune had dropped in his lap like an overripe plum. Whatever little tickle of proprietary instinct had made him want to see it, whatever odd pull he’d felt at the thought of being a landed gentleman, the truth was his impulsive journey up here to claim the estate made him as big a fool as the bird-witted Scotsman who had wagered his home on the turn of a card.

Still, it made even less sense to turn back now, when he had drawn so close to his destination. If he had understood the innkeeper’s thick brogue, the hous…