Publisher: Sourcebooks Casablanca
Publication Date: 4/28/2020
For fans of Mary Balogh
and Lisa Klepyas comes a poignant Regency romance full of secrets to reveal and
a love to fight for from bestselling author Jane Ashford
Peter Rathbone, Duke of
Compton, is mourning the loss of his sister Delia, but the work of keeping his
family's deteriorating estate afloat is never done. When Miss Ada Grandison, a
close friend of his sister, arrives with a mysterious letter that she claims
holds the secret to saving the family home, Peter is skeptical to say the
least…his life is about to get even more complicated.
Ada is eager to do whatever
she can to help the Rathbones. She brings clues that Delia claimed would change
everything for the family and that lead Ada and Peter on a hunt to unravel the
past. But they'll have to face their painful memories—and their true feelings
for each other—to discover the truth.
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Excerpt:
That
night, at last, Ada had a different dream. It was just as vivid as the disturbing
ones, but the mood was something else entirely. She was at a wedding -- her
wedding. She was pacing down the church aisle alone. Where were her attendants?
Why wasn’t her father at her side? She felt her gown frothing around her feet
and wondered about the flowers on her bonnet. She’d always meant to have roses
when she married. Were they there? Her hands were empty.
The
aisle seemed very long. She walked and walked without seeming to make progress.
And she couldn’t see who waited for her at the altar. Which was the most
important part, wasn’t it?
She
walked faster. The place must be the size of a cathedral. And who were all the
shadowy figures filling it, stretching out on either side? She didn’t have
nearly that many acquaintances, let alone friends. Multitudes watched her pass.
She felt the weight of their attention and wished for a supporting arm. But
there was only herself and the endless aisle.
Finally,
finally, she reached the front of the church. But the two who waited there—the
groom and the vicar presiding—remained vague, mere outlines. “Who are you?” she
asked the former. It wasn’t fair. A dream shouldn’t leave out the crucial
piece.
Her
question had no effect. Though she peered and peered, she couldn’t see. The
ceremony took place. Or maybe it didn’t. There were gestures and perhaps words,
but Ada couldn’t hear them. She wasn’t certain whether she spoke. Her throat
felt tight. The guests had vanished. Most of the church had as well. The edges
of her view had gone misty. “Why can’t I see?” she complained.
In
response, the two indistinct figures at the altar gradually faded.
Ada
turned in a circle, searching, but they were gone. Everyone was. She was alone
again. And so very tired. She lay down on the first pew, which was now empty.
She folded her hands, closed her eyes. A little rest and then she would…
“Miss
Ada?”
She
wasn’t Miss anymore. Possibly. Or not.
There
was a touch on her shoulder. Ada stirred. Ah, there was a gentleman kneeling
beside her. Surely this was her bridegroom, solid at last. She reached out and
laced her arms around his neck and pulled him close and kissed him. It was her
very first kiss, though she wouldn’t have admitted that to anyone.
She
touched his lips with hers, tender, experimental. More of an imagined kiss at
first. She raised up a little, pressed closer.
For
one startled instant, there was no response. Then his lips softened under hers.
His arms came around her and pulled her against him. He was very strong! The
kiss deepened. A bolt of arousal shot through her. Passion, she thought. This
was what people meant by it. Ada felt as if she was melting, and yet also newly
vibrant. Her arms tightened around his neck. She clung to him and to the kiss.
And
then he pulled away with a jerk and a wild look. He put his fingers to his lips
as if hers had burnt him.
The
Duke of Compton pushed Ada back onto a sofa in the Alberdene drawing room. On
which she lay instead of her bed. And she had no memory at all of getting here.
Ada
blinked, shaking off sleep and the lingering wisps of her dream. She’d kissed
Delia’s brother. She’d often wondered during this last year what it would it be
like to kiss him. She’d imagined scenes where a kiss might happen. Nothing like
this one, of course. But now she knew that it was lovely. The sort of thing one
would like to try again, when more than half-awake. She sat up. A candle burned
on a low table nearby.
“What
are you doing?” he asked. “Here.”
Was
that one query or two? Ada looked around. The corners of the room faded into
dimness—rather like, and unlike, her dream. “I suppose I was sleepwalking
again?” The words were half a question. “I don’t remember.” She shook her head.
The sleepwalking was a worry. “I dreamed of—” No, she wasn’t going to tell him
about the wedding. The thin folds of her nightdress shifted around her,
translucent in the light of the candle. She could see her knees through the
cloth. One couldn’t get more improper than this. She ought to be mortified, but
she felt curiously elated instead. In fact, a bubble of rapturous excitement
rose in her chest.
“We
must tell someone,” he said.
“That
we kissed?”
“No!
The sleepwalking. As for the other—”
“The
kiss?”
“I
didn’t mean… I had no notion—”
“I
believe I kissed you,” Ada said. She savored the word. She liked saying kiss,
the effect it had on him. She enjoyed flustering the duke, she realized. It was
fun. Clearly he had no idea what to say next. “I won’t kiss you again if you
don’t want me to.”
“It’s
not a case of wanting.” He sounded hoarse.
“So
you do want me to?” She longed to hear him say so.
His
eyes burned into hers. The desire in them made her breath catch. “You know we
can’t,” he said.
It
was difficult to know anything at that moment. Ada felt like a child who’d
inadvertently teased a tiger.
“This.”
His gesture encompassed the dark, silent room, their nightclothes, the mere
inches that separated them. “Is so far beyond the line.”
Ada
knew the situation was scandalous, but she was still glad she’d kissed him.
“You seemed to like it,” she couldn’t help saying.
He
stood and stepped away from her. “What I like and what I can offer as a man of
honor may not be the same. Most often they are not. I’ve known that since I was
fifteen.”
***
Excerpted from A Duke Too Far by Jane Ashford. © 2020 by Jane Ashford. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of
Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.
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About the author:
Jane Ashford discovered Georgette Heyer
in junior high school and was captivated by the glittering world and witty
language of Regency England. That delight was part of what led her to study
English literature and travel widely. She’s written historical and contemporary
romances, and her books have been published all over Europe as well as in the
United States. Jane has been nominated for a Career Achievement Award by RT
Book Reviews. Find her on the web at www.janeashford.com and on Facebook. If
you’d like to receive her monthly newsletter, you can sign up at either of
those sites.
Author
Website: www.janeashford.com
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