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His Mistress by Morning

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Overview

Oh, how I wish '

When a promised inheritance turns out to be a fraud, shy spinster Charlotte Wilmont makes an impetuous wish that despite her lack of charm and fortune, she could capture the heart of the one man whom she ' s forever adored ' Sebastian, Viscount Trent.

Be careful what you wish for...........



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Author Information

Bio of Elizabeth Boyle

Elizabeth has written stories since childhood--including tales about her imaginary friend, an oversize Holstein by the name of John Clapper--and from there graduated to notebooks full of the usual bad adolescent poetry full of angst and dreary tales of woe that only a teenager can conjure up. After college and a stint of traveling, Elizabeth returned to writing what she loved to read: romance novels. However, she hit a small bump in the road when she discovered that aspiring writers still have to pay their rent and buy groceries, so she worked as a paralegal, compiling case profiles on insurance fraud (arsons, faked burglaries, faked accidents) and police misconduct (assaults by officers, shooting inquests). Eventually she worked for a software company investigating piracy in North America. During her time "pirate hunting," she participated in civil and criminal seizures with the FBI, U.S. Customs, and the Canadian RCMP. After years of these modern-day adventures, it is no wonder that counterfeiting, forgery, and espionage find their way into her Regency-set romances, which she now writes full-time. Writing at night and on weekends, Elizabeth completed four manuscripts before Brazen Angel won the Dell Diamond Debut Award in 1996. The story of her first sale is considered romance legend, an event she says could not have happened without the love and determination of her husband. The entire story can be found here. Since then, she has written eleven more historical romances, as well as a novella, which have made eight appearances on the USA Today bestseller list, earned a spot on the New Times Extended list, received four RITA nominations (including This Rake of Mine and His Mistress by Morning) and one win, garnered countless Romantic Times nominations, and won the praise of fans worldwide, who call her fast-paced, adventurous romances "page turners" and "keepers." Her most recent book, Love Letters from a Duke, is the third novel in her Bachelor Chronicles series. Always one for an adventure herself, Elizabeth has driven a train through the Highlands of Scotland, hitchhiked in Ireland, and carries a Cook Island driver's license in her wallet. After her hometown of Seattle, Elizabeth's top three places to explore and people-watch in are London, New York, and Las Vegas--a trio of cities where, she says, story ideas can be found on just about every corner. Traveling aside, Elizabeth's favorite place is home, where she finds her foremost writing inspiration in her die-hard romantic and hero-handsome husband, Terry, whom she considers the best birthday present she's ever received. Elizabeth and Terry used to live in a quiet Seattle neighborhood, enjoying their own romantic view of Puget Sound, ferryboats, and the Olympic Mountains. That is, until they became parents--so, while they still enjoy their Northwest panorama, "quiet" has become a term they use only with the past tense.

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Additional Info

Imprint

HarperCollins

Filesize

993.79 KB

Number of Pages

384

eBook ISBN

9780061207969

Excerpt from: His Mistress by Morning by Elizabeth Boyle

London
May 9, 1810
An Ordinary Wednesday, or at Least One Presumes So

If one were going to define what gave a family that air of prestige amongst their peers, set them apart in the bustling ton, first and foremost you would list those admirable qualities of respectability, social standing, and, most importantly, wealth.

Of course none of those things described the Earl of Walbrook or any of his five children ' with the possible exception of the earl's eldest son and heir, Sebastian Marlowe, Viscount Trent.

But we'll get to him in a moment.

Luckily for the Marlowes, they rarely noticed their pariah status in Society. Snippy mentions in gossip columns were of no interest to them. And if they had a host of detractors, they had one very enthusiastic admirer.

Miss Charlotte Wilmont. She thought them the most glorious family in London.

Why, their cluttered house on Berkeley Square, which housed the odd objects that the earl sent home from his travels, the leftover stage sets and costumes from the countess's numerous private theatrical productions, Griffin's scientific experiments, Cordelia's Roman treasures, and Hermione and Viola's collections of neatly clipped fashion plates from The Ladies Fashionable Cabinet, was more odd museum than house, but it felt like home to Charlotte.

Even now, standing in the middle of the foyer, awaiting her best friend, Lady Hermione, and dreading the terrible news she had to tell her, Charlotte couldn't help but feel a sense that she, plain and ordinary Miss Wilmont, belonged here.

She could just imagine what her mother, Lady Wilmont, or Cousin Finella, with whom they lived, would say about that. Especially when faced with the ornately carved chest that stood front and center in the entryway, decorated as it was with a rather large male fertility statue standing tall and erect atop it.

The ebony phallus would have been banished to the dustbin at Cousin Finella's. Feeling a little bit guilty for even casting a curious glance in its direction, Charlotte forced her gaze over to the silver salver beside it, piled up as it was with mail and notes and calling cards for the family.

Envy tugged at her heart over the sight of such a friendly pile ' for no one invited her to soir ' es and parties, called upon her cantankerous mother (for good reason), or sent lovingly penned letters expressing whatever it was one put into such tidings.

Surely Charlotte didn't know. No one had ever sent her a letter.

And atop it all sat the most coveted missive of all ' an invitation to Lady Routledge's soir ' e.

Though Hermione had spent the last month expressing dread over having to attend the upcoming event, Charlotte knew her dear friend would have been positively distraught not to be invited. For Lady Routledge's annual evening had launched any number of young ladies from veritable obscurity onto that very coveted pedestal, the most sought after title a girl could attain: that of Original.