Something About Emmaline (Avon Romantic Treasures)

From Booklist Alexander Denford has the perfect wife. The fact that Lady Emmaline Denford is a mere figment of his imagination is, naturally, the primary reason for her perfection. Five years earlier, in an effort to stave off hordes of matchmaking mothers, the baron invented his fictitious wife. So far the arrangement has worked wonderfully, allowing Alex to lead the kind of orderly (though some would say dull ) life he favors. But when bills for goods ordered by Lady Denford suddenly start appearing, Alex sets off for London, where he discovers his "wife." This Emmaline is nothing like the quiet, nondescript woman he imagined; she is bold, beautiful, and all-too tempting. Even so, Alex intends to send the meddling minx packing, but Emmaline has other ideas. With a deliciously tart sense of wit and whimsy and a wickedly elegant style, RITA Award--winning author Boyle fashions another lusciously romantic, completely irresistible literary confection. John Charles Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved Elizabeth Boyle has always loved romance and now lives it each and every day by writing adventurous and passionate stories that readers from all around the world have described as “page-turners.” Since her first book was published, she’s seen her romances become New York Times and USA Today bestsellers and has won the RWA RITA® and the Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Awards. She resides in Seattle with her family, her garden, and her always-growing collection of yarn. Readers can visit her at www.elizabethboyle.com, or follow her own adventures on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram.xa0 www.avonromance.com www.facebook.com/avonromance Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Something About Emmaline By Elizabeth Boyle HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. Copyright © 2006 Elizabeth BoyleAll right reserved. ISBN: 0060549319 Chapter One For his first month home at Sedgwick Abbey, Alexfound himself left in blessed solitude. Instead of being there to greet him, his grandmother haddecided to remain at her sister-in-law's estate for an additionalmonth, most likely unable to leave until they hadcaught up on every bit of family gossip. Therefore, his summerbegan with no pestering talk of heirs, no lengthy discussionsof Emmaline's continued ill health, just a continuationof his perfectly ordered life that Jack had the audacity to call"boring." But eventually his grandmother had decided she could nolonger leave him to his lonely exile and had returned homelike a whirlwind, her herd of pugs trotting in her wake. Genevieve Denford, Lady Sedgwick, had been born inFrance, and the sixty-odd years she'd been in Englandhadn't diminished her Gallic presence in the least. His grandfather, another reluctant-to-be-wed Denford, had taken a trip to Paris in his late sixties and had broughthome (to the horror of his own heir apparent) a French wife. Given his grandmother's joie de vivre , Alex doubted hisgrandfather had stood a chance. A lesson to all unmarried English gentlemen, he'd decidedyears ago. Never venture across the Channel. Grandmère had greeted him merrily when he'd come into breakfast and hadn't stopped talking since. "And imagineImogene's shock when I told her ..." she was saying fromher end of the table, where she sat encircled by her dogs. It had been quiet without Grandmère , he mused as shebarely paused between bites to regale him with tales of hisgreat-aunt's grandchildren—and, horrors, a few greatgrandchildren.Heirs abounded in Aunt Imogene's world,and he knew the next few months would see no end of hintingand prodding that he and Emmaline should be doing thesame as well—producing the next Sedgwick baron. He'd have to make a note to his solicitor to have hiswife's next letter from Emmaline detail a litany of femalecomplaints that would unhappily prevent such an event.The more, the better. He hoped that would keep Grandmèresufficiently diverted through grouse season. The door to the dining room opened and Burgess, theirbutler, entered, staggering beneath a large silver tray. Behindhim, a footman followed with an even bigger tray, justas laden with papers and notes. "My lord, a pouch from Mr. Elliott's office arrived thismorning along with the mail," Burgess said, setting his burdenon the dining table before Alex. "To be specific, therewere three pouches." His bushy brows rose. "Large ones." Alex stared up at the monumental pile, his knife and forkheld in midair. "What the devil is all that?" Burgess, being ever the diligent butler, replied, "The regularnewspapers and periodicals for her ladyship, but the remainderappear mostly to be bills, my lord." "Bills?" Alex looked at the collection again. He'd instructedhis London solicitor to take care of all his outstandingaccounts. Besides, that pile looked like something Jackhad run up, not him. "Unlike Elliott to be so inefficient," Alex muttered, as hebegan to sort through the mess. "Ah, here is the answer.Seems Mr. Elliott's wife has inherited property in Scotlandand they needed to inspect the place. His clerk is attendingto all his business in his absence. I'll have to speak to himwhen he returns—the fellow has obviously gotten my accountsmixed up with some wastrel client of his." "What is it, my dear?" his grandmother asked from herend of the table, where she was dropping tidbits to her deardogs. He waved his hands over the pile of bills. "Just the Londonpapers and such." "The papers! Why didn't you say so?" She rose and hustleddown the side of the long table, her lace cap aflutter.Before Alex could stop her, she swept aside the neatlyarranged piles to get to her most favorite thing in theworld—the gossip column in the Morning Post . Separatingthe pages with the skill of a farmer's wife plucking a hen,she had her quarry in her clutches in a flash and settled intothe chair next to Alex to begin reading. Hopefully not aloud , he thought as he continued hissorting. He was rewarded with a minute or so of silence beforeshe couldn't contain herself. "Lady Vassar had a baby. A son, it says." She sighed and then shot him a significant glance. "An heir is so important,don't you think, Alex?" "Yes, of course," he agreed, his gaze stopping on one ofthe bills before him. Four hundred pounds for carpets. Anotherexpenditure listed furniture for one hundred and fiftypounds. Bills for drapers, carpenters, painters, and that wasonly the start. Why, it appeared the poor sot for whomthese notes had been intended had outfitted not only a newhouse, but a wife and stable of mistresses, what with theunending collection of milliner, modiste, glover, and lacebills. "And finally a mention of our dear girl," his grandmotherwas saying. "Listen to this: Lady S. was seen shopping diligentlywith the assistance of Lady R., who has taken hernew friend under her wing. Lady S., so long from town, is adelight and sure to be the prized guest next Season. " Shepursed her lips. "About time she was mentioned. But whatan odd thing to say. Why would they think her so long fromtown when she has lived there all her life?" She tossed asidethe paper and began once again upsetting Alex's carefullywrought piles with her rustling. "Madame!" He rose up from his seat and covered thebills with his arms to protect them from her marauding."What has gotten into you?" Continues... Excerpted from Something About Emmaline by Elizabeth Boyle Copyright © 2006 by Elizabeth Boyle. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site. Read more