Nicole was a passionate French beauty, kidnapped by mistake and swept accross turbulent seas...to be the bride of a stranger.
In eighteenth-century Virginia, the lush lands embraced the rivers that bounded the great plantations. There Clayton awaited his English lady...but when he showered his bride with ardent kisses, the woman he found in his arms was Nicole Courtalain!
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1 . Deveraux is a wonder!
Posted June 09, 2010 by Paramance , FLI think what Deveraux does best is make you hate people who should be hated and love people who should be hated. But what she does even better is make you hate someone you should love and love someone you should hate. I can be full of hate toward the main hero one moment and love him beyond all doubt the next. She's a wonder. Any author that can drum up true emotion from a reader should be celebrated.
December 31, 2002
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Excerpt from Counterfeit Lady by Jude Deveraux
In June of 1794, the roses were in full flower and the lawns were of a green lushness that is known only in England. In the county of Sussex stood a small, square, two-story house, a plain house surrounded by a short iron fence. The house once had been part of a greater estate, an outbuilding for a gardener's or gamekeeper's family, but the rest of the estate had been subdivided long ago and sold to pay off the Maleson family's debts. All that was left of this once great family was this small, neglected house, Jacob Maleson, and his daughter Bianca.
Jacob Maleson now sat before the empty fireplace in the parlor on the ground floor -- a short, corpulent man, the lower buttons of his vest unbuttoned over the expanse of his large stomach, his coat carelessly tossed over another chair. His plump legs were encased in broadcloth breeches, reaching to just past his knees where they were fastened with brass buckles, his calves were covered with cotton stockings, his feet were bulging from thin leather pumps. A large, sleepy Irish setter leaned against one arm of the old wing chair, and Jacob idly fondled the dog's ears.
Jacob had grown used to his simple country life. Truthfully, he rather liked having a smaller house, fewer servants, and less responsibility. He remembered the big house of his childhood as a place of wasted space, a place that took up too much of his parents' time and energy. Now he had his dogs, a good joint of meat for dinner, enough income to keep his stables going, and he was content.
His daughter was not.
Bianca stood before the tall mirror in her second-floor bedroom and smoothed the long muslin dress over her tall, plump body. Every time she looked at herself in the new French fashions, she felt a touch of disgust. The French peasants had revolted against the aristocracy, and now, because those weak Frenchmen could not control their underlings, all the world had to pay. Every country looked at France and worried that the same thing could happen to them. In France, everyone wanted to look as if they were part of the commoners; therefore, satins and silks were practically banned. The new fashions were of muslins, calicos, lawns, and percale.