Her friend plucked the necklace from her fingers. “Nor should you want to change anything, silly,” Chloe murmured. “Here, turn around.” Before Imogen could protest, Chloe spun her about. She settled the chain about her neck and fiddled with the clasp. A soft click filled the quiet. “There,” she said, turning Imogen around once more. “I’ll have you know,” she gave a toss of her blonde curls, “that was not my plan.” A slow, mischievous grin turned her lips. “You rejoining Society was…is,” she amended, “my plan.”
Imogen had retreated from ton events after the Scandal, as Society had taken to referring to it. Those drawn out syllables the ton used to set it apart from others scandals. Imogen sighed. “I’ve little interest in entering Society.” Alas, now that Rosalind had wed to her duke, Mother’s wedding plans were at an end, and she’d turned her sights once more upon Imogen. “I intend to wait until the scandal isn’t so—”
Her friend’s snort cut across the remainder of those hopeful words. “Oh, Imogen,” she said gently, taking her hands once more. “This scandal shall remain until some other foul lord goes and does something outrageous that captures their notice. I shan’t allow you to bury your head in shame. Not when you haven’t done anything wrong.” Fire snapped in her blue eyes. “Is that clear?” She opened her mouth to respond but Chloe gave a pleased nod. “Now, you’ll be joining me at the theatre this evening.”
Imogen groaned. She hardly cared to be gawked and gaped at by cruel ladies and bored gents who saw the less pretty Moore sister. “Not the theatre.” There she would be on public display like one of those Captain Cook exhibits at the Egyptian Hall. She was brave. She was not that brave.
“You’ll have me,” her friend said, accurately interpreting her concerns. “The sooner you make your appearance and show the ton you’ll not be cowed or shamed by them and miserable Montrose then the sooner they shall move on to some other poor creature.”
Imogen shot her a look.
Chloe had the good grace to blush. “Er…not that you’re a poor creature.”
She tapped a finer to her lips. Insult aside, if she was being honest, it really wasn’t an altogether awful plan. In fact, it was quite a brilliant one.
Sensing victory was close, Chloe said, “Furthermore you’ll be spared your mother’s matchmaking for the Season.”
Yes, Mother had begun to speak of the Marquess of Waverly with an increasing frequency. After all, by Mother’s thinking, if one couldn’t have a duke, she may as well aspire to a marquess. “Very well, I shall go.” After all, the alternative would be to flit from one event to the next with her wedded sister and her beaming mother and the faithless Duke of Montrose for company.
“Splendid!” Chloe said, with a clap of her hands. “My brother will accompany us. No one will dare slight you with the fierce Marquess of Waverly at our side.”
Envy tugged at Imogen. Through the years, her own sister had been at best rude and condescending, and at worst, deliberately cruel, mocking the flame red curls Imogen had been cursed with. She would have traded her left index finger to know the loving friendship Chloe had with her siblings.
With an energized stride, her friend started for the door. She paused at the threshold and spun back once more to face Imogen. “Prepare yourself, Imogen Moore. You are going to take Society by storm.”
Not again.
Very Special Bonus Material
Coming July 1, 2015
With Dreams Only of You
The Legend of the Theodosia Sword
One legend. One family. One chance to reverse the tides of fortune.
With Dreams Only of You is a unique multi-genre collection of an ancient curse that sweeps through hundreds of years of the same family – from the Roman era to Medieval England and Medieval Scotland, then through the Tudor, Georgian, and Regency periods, finally ending with contemporary closure. The de Reyne family, and its generations of descendants, have more than just the family tree in common – they have a family heirloom that belonged to an ancestor, a Roman gladius said to be as cursed as it is valuable. Every generation of the family is saddled with this curse and every generation must overcome the mysteries of bad fortune brought about by the gladius. In their own way, each generation must find their own happiness.
This is an utterly unique collection of short novels comprised in one large book, written by six of Historical Romance’s top authors – Christi Caldwell, Eva Devon, Eliza Knight, Kathryn Le Veque, Suzan Tisdale, and Cynthia Wright bring this deeply romantic and triumphant collection to you.
Now, please enjoy the opening chapter, the legend explained, of this wonderful collection, which will be available July 1, 2015.
Part One: The Prologue
The Legend of the Theodosia Sword
One family. One Legend. One chance to reverse the tides of fortune.
124 A.D.
Vallum Aelium (Hadrian’s Wall) Milecastle 9
Legio vigesima Valeria Victrix (Twentieth Victorious Valerian Legion)
The colors of sunset splashed across the deepening sky as if an angry god had slashed the heavens with great, violent brush strokes. Diabolus alarum, a sky like this was called. Devil’s wings. If one looked hard enough at the shades of purple, pink, and orange, one might have seen demons gazing back at them, an audience to witness their impending destruction. Certainly, the sky had that feel this night as death loomed.
The Otadini tribe, the vast tribe of the north, had the contubernium surrounded, bottled up in their milecastle like trapped animals. The Otadini, the native tribe to the north of the great wall that bisected the island, had watched the Romans as they built their mighty wall and mighty milecastles, miniature military encampments, some with dozens of Roman soldiers. But this milecastle was a smaller one; there were only eight men and a commander, comprising the contubernium. The commander of this squad of men, a decanus named Euricus Lollius Pompeius, was the very young son of a great Roman senator and sincerely had no business commanding such a fine collection of infantry, one of the elite squadrons of legionaries from the Valeria Victrix.
This boy, this spoilt man-child, commanded eight seasoned warriors and had not the slightest hint of military acumen. He was a fool. As the milecastle had been constructed in the midst of hostile territory, the man-child had taken command based on his political connections. The Otadini, with their violent leaders and vast numbers of men, hadn’t waited a nominal length of time before surrounding the milecastle and laying siege. The structure had barely been completed a month before the harassment began in earnest.