о ла ла
новости от элоизы джемс и целый кусочек из нового романа, экслюзивно по почте
извините, что длинно - не умею убирать "под кат".
When The Duke Returns
Available November 25th!
Avon - ISBN 0061245577
Hello everybody!
The new Extra Chapter for Duchess by Night is up on my website! Did you wonder when exactly Jem knew that Harry Cope was really a Harriet? Readers on the Bulletin Board voted for that scene, told from Jem's point-of-view. Here's a fun little tidbit:
Jem waited, restlessly cataloguing all the reasons why he should have known from the beginning that Harry Cope was a dark lecher. No matter how young, his brows shouldn't arch like that. And his eyelashes were absurdly thick for a boy. And his fingers were so delicate that sometimes...
Those eyes were growing wider and wider. "You couldn't –" Harry spat.
Jem blinked. Harry's voice was – was it always that high?
Just follow the link to my Readers' Pages and read the whole chapter! I do hope you enjoy it – I had a great time revisiting Jem and Harriet, two of my very favorite characters.
Another of my favorite characters, Isidore, will have a book of her own in just a few days: When the Duke Returns will be published on November 25! Surely you remember Isidore's husband – the one who took off for exotic parts years ago and married his wife by proxy? But once home, her duke takes one look at his wife and proposes an annulment. A furious Isidore decides to seduce Simeon, forcing him to keep her as wife. But she faces a little problem when it turns out that the duke is a virgin!
Simeon is such a great hero -- a fierce powerful man who has fought off alligators and desert tribesmen. The embroidered coats and debauched ways of the Georgian gentleman don't suit him. For one thing, he believes that a man should never succumb to a base emotion, like lust. Never.
This may be one battle that he loses...
Harper Collins is offering a truly wonderful glimpse into When the Duke Returns – the whole first seven chapters! Do jump over there and fall in love with my tempestuous, passionate couple.
And since Harper Collins generously gave you the first seven chapters, I wanted to give readers of my newsletter to have a special treat. So, just for you, I'm posting here (below) a peek at the end of the book!
Over the years, I've fallen in the habit of ending these emails with a snippet about my children. Well, I'm a great believer in genetic control of everything from hair color to hysteria. For example, last week my nine-year-old daughter came into my study after school and threw herself into a chair, mouth down and eyes miserable.
"What's the matter, honey?" I asked.
She picked up a red plastic circle that must have fallen off a toy. "Do you see this?" she demanded.
I admitted that I did see it. "This is my heart!" she announced. And then she snapped it in two. "Broken in half!" There was a pause while I tried desperately not to giggle. "He smiled at Noelle today," she added with tragic emphasis, "and then I knew he was lost to me."
Life is so tough. Especially if you happen to have the kind of dramatic imagination that can a) believe than a nine-year-old boy cares about any girl, and b) express itself in the sort of language that might well result in a career as a novelist!
I'll be writing you back soon, as I'll send out another newsletter after When the Duke Returns pubs. Until then, I hope you and everyone else in your family is healthy, happy, and heart-whole.
Yours,
Eloisa
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SPECIAL EXCERPT JUST FOR NEWSLETTER READERS!
The Peregrine
Yacht to His Royal Highness, George III
March 26th, 1784
Isidore knew it was a silent, defiant gesture. Her solicitor assured her that the king himself intended to speak to her that very evening about the dissolution of her marriage; she chose to wear the dress in which she first met her husband. She had a strong feeling that the majority of men on the royal yacht would not react to her presence by querying whether her taste ran to the unorthodox.
"Lord," Jemma said, coming up behind her. "You look astonishing, Isidore."
"It's something of a debutante ball for me," Isidore said, smiling at her in the mirror. "I intend to impress all available men with my attributes."
"No debutante could wear that gown," Jemma said, "given your meager bodice and less-than-meager curves. The design is so beautiful: I love the way the blue watered silk underneath the silver. Gorgeous! Especially with the diamonds sewn all over it... You look like a fairy."
"I think of fairies as small green creatures with transparent wings," Isidore said dubiously.
"A fairy queen," Jemma amended. "One look at you and mortals lose their wits, forever wandering in the depths of the forest."
"You are rather odd, Jemma, do you know that?"
"I accept that about myself. And I'm not the one with diamonds pasted everywhere from her bottom to her shoes."
"I just want to make it clear to everyone that I'm – it is ridiculous, isn't it?"
"Everyone knows how much you're worth, darling," Jemma said soothingly. "I like the glittering look. It's a public service. You'll reflect the candlelight so no one falls overboard. You know, last time the king had a gathering on his yacht, Lord Piddle tripped over his own feet and somersaulted into the water."
"Did he come back up again?"
"Naturally," Jemma said. "He floated like a cork."
"If I fell overboard," Isidore said, "I would sink like a stone. These stones are quite small but put together, they're quite heavy."
"I suggest you sit in a throne to receive the admiring hoards."
Isidore bit her lip.
"Villiers went to fetch him," Jemma said, guessing exactly what she was thinking.
"What if Villiers can't convince him?" Isidore said, fear welling up in her heart. "What if Simeon is happy without me, and has decided I'm just too much trouble?"
"Then we'll auction your dress in the marketplace and you can buy yourself a new husband."
By ten in the evening, Isidore was beginning to accept that even the Duke of Villiers couldn't work miracles. King George III had come and gone, giving him her assurances that the bill for divorce her solicitor had submitted would be approved speedily. It should have warmed Isidore's heart to realize that even a happily married monarch found her bosom appealing, but it didn't.
Why didn't he come? She stood up listlessly and put her hand into the hand of some gentleman. She couldn't even remember his name. There had been so many suitors that she'd taken to describing them to Jemma by their clothes. This one wore a turquoise coat with green buttons. Not a good combination. She managed to find a smile for him.
The fête had almost drawn to a close when there was a sudden thump and the entire yacht bounded in the water, as if a giant's hand had thrown it in the air an inch or two.
"Peculiar," her partner remarked. "I wonder what that was about. I suppose we could go look at the water." The musicians produced one screeching discord, and then settled back into the measure.
Isidore shrugged and accepted the Turquoise Coat's arm. Some people continued to dance but most drifted toward the doors that opened onto the deck. She could hear a few shouts from outside. Jemma appeared at her shoulder, her eyes sparkling. "I think another boat has hit us," she cried, over the noise. "I'm looking for Beaumont!" And she was gone.
Isidore just kept walking with the Turquoise Coat, because really, what else was there to do? He had started a running complaint. Drunken river boat captains presented a hazard to everyone on the river... Isidore had a head ache, and it wasn't getting any better listening to prognostications about the righteous punishment that would be meted out to the drunk captain who struck the king's own yacht.
"If you'll forgive me, my lord," she said, "I must retire to the lady's salon for a moment."
"I doubt if that is entirely safe," the Turquoise Coat said. "What if the boat has suffered some damage? We should make our way outside."
"If the boat were damaged, we would be listing," she pointed out.
"I do hear some shouting and such."
Isidore slipped her hand out of his arm. "It has been a pleasure, my lord."
He said something, and she turned about. "Excuse me?"
"I'm not a lord," he said, looking distinctly put upon.
She turned away without answering, which made her feel guilty all the way back across the now empty ballroom floor. The boat was still rocking slightly. Her guess would be that it had burst free of its moorings and was drifting in the Thames. Which meant that it would strike one or the other bank in a matter of five minutes. Hardly anything to worry about.
The only problem with her diamond-encrusted shoes was the heels. She teetered across the polished floor and finally made her way into the ladies' salon.
The maids had all deserted their posts, naturally. She sat down on a fainting couch and stared at the opposite wall.
She loved him, and she'd lost him. She'd lost him by being a preemptory dragon. "Arrogant," she muttered to herself. "Fool." She'd dropped her handkerchief somewhere so she ended up pulling up her jewel-encrusted skirts and wiping her eyes on her chemise.
"Lost your way?"
She hadn't heard the door open. She hadn't heard any footsteps, or sensed eyes watching her. She hadn't planned anything to say, which was almost the worst of it.
He looked like any other duke of the realm, dressed in a gorgeous coat of satin, embroidered with pomegranates.
"That's not your coat," she said.
"It belongs to Villiers." He didn't take his eyes of her.
"You look like a duke," she said, sniffing a little.
Being Simeon, he didn't bother with flummery about clothing. "You are free to choose a husband, or so they tell me," he stated.
She swallowed. Her heart was beating so fast that she could hear it in her ears. "Yes."
"I could offer myself as part of the hoard that Villiers assures me are sniffing about you."
A tiny tendril of hope sprang up in her heart.
"You could," she said, nodding. "You're wearing breeches. I'm sure that was one of my requirements."
"And powder," he said, "for meeting royalty. But –"
"But?" she whispered.
"I'm not offering myself."
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