Having hired a balloon to get him
to Paris in a daring race, Lord Boyce Parker is simultaneously exhilarated and
unnerved by the wonders and dangers of flight, and most of all by the
beautiful, stubborn, intelligent lady operating the balloon.
She’s curious about the science
of love
Eve Mountfloy is in the process
of conducting weather experiments when she finds herself spirited away to
France by a notorious rake. She’s only slightly dismayed—the rake seems to
respect her work—but she is frequently distracted by his windblown physical
magnificence and buoyant spirits.
What happens when they descend
from the clouds?
As risky as aeronautics may be,
once their feet touch the ground, Eve and Boyce learn the real danger of a very
different type of falling…
Praise for The Rake’s
Handbook:
“Orr debuts with a
charming romp. The witty repartee and naughty innuendos set the perfect pitch
for the entertaining romance. Though there are serious themes and carefully
researched historical details, it’s the banter and sensuality that are sure to
enchant readers.” --RT Book Reviews, 4 stars
Buy the Book
The Rake’s Handbook: Including
Field Guide (Book 1)
When a Rake Falls (Book 2)
Boyce: Two people who sing spontaneous duets.
Eve: Someone to believe and work toward helping me achieve
my dreams.
When and where were you the happiest?
Boyce: Thousands of feet in the air, our balloon heading
rapidly for France, watching the sunset on a perfect day.
Eve: With Boyce’s arms around my shoulder, watching the sun set from our balloon.
What would you do to have a perfect day?
Boyce: Dream it up and then do it.
Eve: Work for
months without rest.
Sally Orr worked
for thirty years in medical research, specializing in the discovery of gene
function. After joining an English history message board, she posted many, many
examples of absolute tomfoolery. As a result, a cyber-friend challenged her to
write a novel. Since she is a hopeless Anglophile, it's not surprising that her
first book is a Regency romance. Sally lives with her husband in San Diego,
surrounded by too many nerdy books and not enough old English cars.
Connect with Sally Orr
Website – http://www.sallyorr.com/
Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/SallyOrrWriter
Twitter – https://twitter.com/OrrSally
Goodreads – http://www.goodreads.com/SallyOrr
Lord
Boyce Parker felt a sudden urge to sing. The brisk morning air, the glorious
sunshine, and the presence of a hundred or so excited gentlemen milling around
him could only mean a remarkable day ahead. Boyce knew he’d be mocked if he
broke out in song, but sometimes happiness just bubbled up from somewhere down
in your toes and overwhelmed a fellow. “My candle burns bright—-”
“Goes
without saying you learned to sing by reading a book,” said George Drexel, one
of Boyce’s oldest friends. “Right now I could be in bed with the lovely Widow
Donhurst. Instead, I’m standing here amongst the rabble of London, far too
early for any sane man, following another one of your bacon--brained schemes.”
Boyce
ignored him and kept his gaze fixed on the balcony of Stainthorpe House.
Yesterday, the Earl of Stainthorpe had placed an advertisement in all of the
newspapers inviting London’s finest bachelors to gather in Royston Square.
Although the details in the advertisement were few, it hinted fame and five
thousand pounds might be gained by winning one of several “challenges.” As the
son of a wealthy marquess, Boyce had no need for the money, but he longed for a
chance to impress his father. “It’s not my bacon--brained scheme; it’s the
earl’s. Cheer up. You will be the friend of the victorious Lord Boyce Parker.”
Drexel
turned to glare at the pressing horde of eager young gentlemen behind them.
“You don’t even know what the old man’s challenges are. They could all be a
hum, like a scavenger hunt to find his great--uncle’s tricorne hat or his
aunt’s lost poodle.” Drexel dressed in somber colors without fancy cravats or
fobs, so his words had the gravity of a humorless man no one would willfully
cross. This morning, his rumpled clothes, dark whiskers, and obvious lack of
sleep—-no doubt due to a long night of amorous adventure—-made him appear
grumpier than normal. “I hardly think the earl’s tomfool challenges will make
you famous.”
“You
don’t sound cheerful.” Boyce grinned at his old school friend. “I’m confident
the earl’s challenges will be significant and my assured victory will pave the
way to restoring my father’s esteem.”
Drexel
spat on the ground. “Chasing your brother’s fame? Richard is a glorious war
hero. I’m sure winning some silly challenge won’t compete with his elevated
consequence.”
“You’re
wrong. When my name is printed in the newspapers, my father will have to speak
of me with the same admiration he gives Richard.”
“I don’t
think winning a challenge will change the marquess’s opinion of you—-”
“Look.”
Boyce pointed upward.
The Earl
of Stainthorpe stepped to the edge of his balcony overlooking Royston Square.
“My friends, I understand there are no great men left in England.” Silver wisps
of hair escaped the earl’s old--fashioned queue and blew over his forehead, but
he ignored them as he squarely confronted the men below.
The
audience surged forward and yelled retorts to the earl’s audacious remark.
Boyce had
arrived an hour early so he would be close enough to hear his lordship’s every
word. But if this hubbub continued, he might not catch what the earl had to
say. He turned to the man yelling behind him. “I’ll give you a pound, my good
fellow, if you can shout louder.”
The man
smiled and shouted.
“Definitely
not louder, unfortunate loss indeed,” Boyce said. “Now I suggest you hush and
let his lordship speak.”
Standing
two steps behind his master, the earl’s butler vigorously rang a handbell to
gain the attention of the boisterous crowd.
“The
earldom of Stainthorpe owns numerous and diverse holdings,” the earl bellowed.
“Therefore, upon my death, my daughter will be the richest woman in England.”
The crowd
cheered.
The earl
waited for them to settle down. “What I’m trying to say is, Lady Sarah
Stainthorpe needs a husband. But so far, none of the Eligibles paraded before
her will do. She refuses to marry and claims all the gentlemen in London are
rogues, dandies, or worse. The point is, she’s a bluestocking and might fall in
love with some bloody…a poet. I tell you, my friends, that Byron fellow has a
lot to answer for.”
As the
youngest son of a marquess, Boyce was considered an Eligible. Only, Lady Sarah
had rejected him, and all the other Eligibles, seconds after they had presented
themselves at Royston House—-an unfortunate circumstance, since he believed
Lady Sarah would make an excellent wife and a very pretty one too. After a
moment of reflection, he realized every lady of his acquaintance would make a
pretty wife. One or two may have a feature some might call “unfortunate.”
Nevertheless, he always found something pretty in every female countenance.
“Are all
the gentlemen I see before me rogues or dandies?” the earl shouted. “Of course
not. One or two maybe, and several of you are shockingly loose in the haft.”
His lordship pointed to a young man wearing a violet greatcoat, hanging by one
arm on a streetlight. “Especially you, sir.”
With his
free hand, the man doffed his top hat.
“Yes, I
mean you,” the earl said. “My condolences to your poor father.”
All of
the Parker men possessed a fine figure, so he knew even a poorly tailored coat
hung well upon his shoulders. The many compliments he received had gained him a
reputation as an expert in masculine fashion. Therefore, Boyce felt his
lordship should show more sympathy to a man wearing a lamentable violet
greatcoat, since the earl wore an old square coat and baggy breeches.
“Where
was I?” The earl paused to scan the crowd. “Besides an obvious bone--breaker or
two, you gentlemen are the embodiment of the character traits that make
Englishmen the greatest people on earth. So I am challenging you—-the finest
Englishmen alive—-to a race. A race to Paris!”
The crowd
cheered.
“This is
not a race where the winner arrives first,” the earl said. “No, it is a test to
discover the gentlemen who possess England’s greatest traits.”
“Gin
drinking, gov?” someone shouted.
The crowd
laughed and called out a few additional “traits.”
The earl
ignored their comments. “And I mean English character traits—-not
British. That country was some tomfoolery created by meddlesome politicians.
This is a race for Englishmen only. Now, my race will have five challenges and
five winners. Each winner will win a prize of a gold cup and five thousand
pounds.”
The mob
erupted in huzzahs; top hats flew into the air.
Under his
sky--blue waistcoat, Boyce’s heartbeat escalated. This race presented him with
his best opportunity to distinguish himself. He would win at least two of the
earl’s challenges and earn a reputation as a prime example of English manhood.
“Huzzah!” He too threw his beaver hat in the air.
The
butler rang the handbell for a full minute before the crowd settled down.
The earl
held up his hands. “Here are the details of the five—-count them—-five
challenges. You have one month to reach Stainthorpe House in Paris. Each
gentleman will write about his journey and provide the name of a witness. The
man whose travels provide the best example of an English trait wins a
challenge. Once the winners promise to spend the remainder of the summer in our
company, they will be rewarded with a gold cup and five thousand pounds. With
such excellent examples of true English manhood escorting Lady Sarah around
Paris, she must certainly fall in love with one of you unlicked cubs.”
The
assembled men danced in circles. Each one of them was probably dreaming about
how he would spend his winnings.
Eager to
hear the details, Boyce frowned at the clamorous riffraff behind him. The earl
was right; they all appeared to be a lot of rag--mannered coves, so he gained
complete confidence that he could best any of their English traits—-whatever
those traits may be. Once he reached Paris, Lady Sarah would discover he was
the finest of fellows and they would fall in love. Women seemed naturally to
favor him over other gentlemen—-wonderful creatures, women.
The
earl’s voice boomed across the square. “What are the character traits that make
Englishmen so great, you ask?”
The young
men below the balcony tendered several improper suggestions.
“No.” The
earl waved his hand. “Not physical features. Traits like courage and
intelligence. So the challenges are thus: The first gold cup will be given to
the gentleman who represents English courage. We are the country of Nelson, so
bravery and courage course through every one of our veins.”
Someone
shouted the nature of what was coursing through his veins.
The earl
continued without hesitation. “The second gold cup will be given to the
gentleman whose journey represents classic English sportsmanship. Any
Englishman alive can out hunt, out fish, and out ride all other races of men.
So to win the second cup, some outstanding feat of sportsmanship will rule the
day. Extra consideration will be given to the best example of a journey
completed under difficult circumstances.”
Boyce
huffed. “Well, his lordship is wrong. The true nature of English sportsmanship
is not victory over adversity, but our support for the dark horse and sense of
fair play. We are, by nature, a generous people.”
Drexel
slapped him on the back. “For once I agree with you. But considering your
history in the field, I suggest you don’t try for the sportsmanship cup.”
“Sportsmanship
can be demonstrated by means other than fishing or shooting every magnificent
creature—-for example, by boxing or gaming. I practice my pugilistic skills at
Jackson’s twice a week now. You cannot tell me his place is not full of
sportsmen. Or how about when a fellow loses a fortune gaming at White’s and
faces his loss with the grace and good humor of a gentleman? That’s
sportsmanship under pressure, if you ask me.”
“Yes, but
the earl believes boxing is for professionals and only women play cards.”
Boyce widened
his eyes. “In my opinion, his lordship’s definition of sportsmanship is
rather limited.”
The
handbell sounded again before the earl continued his speech. “The third gold
cup will be given to the gentleman whose journey best exhibits loyalty to the
king or service to a lady.”
One man
yelled, “I’d be delighted to service all the ladies on my way to Paris.”
Others in
the crowd shouted similar generous offers.
“If you
do so, sir,” the earl replied, “you will be shown the door. Loyalty means
old--fashioned manners, being polite, and keeping your distance from your
betters. Of all the challenges, I believe service to the Crown is the greatest
honor any man could desire. And considering the manners I’ve witnessed here
today, I’d say the challenge of this cup will remain unmet.”
Jeers
filled the air.
Boyce
wondered how a fellow could show loyalty to the king in a race. He supposed a
gentleman might salute the king’s profile on a sovereign with every step of his
journey, but dismissed it as an absurd notion. No, he’d be better off trying to
provide a service to some lady.
His
lordship nodded, and the handbell rang again. “Now quiet down. The fourth cup
will be given to the man whose journey provides the best example of our English
intelligence. We are the land of Newton and Davy, so the greatest brains of
civilization are English. Except for that da Vinci fellow and one or two
Greeks, but we can afford to be generous and let the rest of the world have a
little luck now and then.”
Boyce
elbowed his friend. “Yes, yes, that’s the cup for me. Bet I’ll win too. What do
you say, fifty?”
“Agreed,”
Drexel said. “I will also wager by the end of this whole flummery, Lady Sarah
will reject all the winners out of spite. I would, if I were her.”
Boyce
refused to believe Lady Sarah would object to any of the winners, once she knew
them well. The lady wanted to be married, didn’t she? “No, no, young women are
full of tender affection. I have never met one who did not want to fall in love
and make her family happy.”
Drexel
rolled his eyes. “I suspect that is because there are so many unmarried ladies
dangling after you, you cannot imagine one refusing. And from the stories I
heard yesterday, I’ll wager that if I throw a pebble into the crowd at the next
assembly, it will hit a widow who has, or wants to be, in your bed. And believe
me, those ladies are not expecting marriage.”
“You’re
being vulgar in public,” Boyce said. “All of the widows I have ever…met were
delightful. Deep in their hearts, they want to be married again, I’m sure.”
“So why
haven’t you married one of these delightful ladies?”
“Never
understood how fellows choose one to fall in love with.”
“If I
know the marquess, the best way to impress him is to give him grandchildren. My
father becomes unhinged with even the thought of grandchildren.”
“Grandchildren?
Grandchildren are far in the future. A great public achievement is my best and
only chance to regain my father’s respect. You’ll see. When I am crowned the
victor of more than one challenge, my achievements will be the toast of London.
Then all of England will think of me differently. I will no longer be just one
of the seven anonymous brothers of the war hero Richard. Worse yet, if people
do recognize me, they remember I’m the Parker son who published a scandalous
book and then received the cut direct from his father—-his own father. After my
victory in the challenges, everyone will have to refer to me as the
intelligent, courageous Lord Boyce. Don’t you understand?”
Drexel
winked at his friend. “Tell me, which of the great English traits do you
represent best? Sounds like only Service to a Lady, and believe me, your
service is the wrong type as far as the earl is concerned.”
“Ah,
that’s my secret. But you will be a witness to my victory, won’t you?”
After
pulling off his hat, Drexel took a full minute to smooth the beaver nap on the
brim. “I’ll consider it.” A wide smirk broke across his dark, handsome face.
“You’ve persuaded me to join the race too.”
“No!”
The
handbell clanged, and everyone faced the balcony again. “Gentlemen, there is
one last challenge, the fifth cup. Since this was my daughter’s idea, perhaps
in jest, you never know with females, let us call it the Lady’s Favorite.”
Shouts
and laughter rose from the rabble.
The earl
leaned forward over the mob. “Perhaps there are no gentlemen in England, and my
daughter is right?” His lordship waited until the crowd quieted. “Lady Sarah
has a funny notion that the greatest achievements of the English race are their
sense of humor, wit, and eccentricities. I mean, now really, she is fond of
Sheridan’s plays.” The earl held up his right hand to quiet the laughing crowd.
“For this cup, Lady Sarah will be the final judge.”
The mob
tendered several humorous jests of questionable wit.
The earl
coughed several times but remained unmoving. “So there you have it. The five
greatest English traits are courage, sportsmanship, intelligence, wit, and
service to a lady. Now to business. I expect all who plan to take up the
challenges to gather in our vestibule below. There, we will compile a list of
the participants. You do not have to choose which cup you aspire to, and you
may switch to another challenge at the end of your journey. Finally, you may
win more than one challenge. Oh, and you must provide an acceptable witness.
Anyone who observes your achievement and can testify on your behalf may be an
official witness. The only exclusions are people who cannot be trusted, like
paid companions or dear old mums.”
Several
groans were heard, and one person clapped.
The earl
nodded in the direction of the man who clapped. “Good man. The race will
officially start after I stop speaking and will end a month from now on the
second of July. On that day, you will present your written story describing
your journey to Stainthorpe House at Rue de la Chaussée-d’Antin. There, I will
choose the five best stories for each challenge, and those finalists will be
asked to recite their adventures aloud. Indeed, everyone here today will be
invited to attend this party and hear my pick of the winners. Lastly, the five
thousand pounds and gold cups will be presented at the end of the evening. It
goes without saying that the victors will be appropriately recognized in all of
the newspapers.”
Boyce
elbowed Drexel. “Yes, yes, my father reads every paper.”
The
crowd’s cheers erupted again after the mention of the winnings.
The earl
held his arms out. “I tell you, my friends, I’m excited about this race. To
help defray the cost of your journey, any man who takes up our challenges will
receive a hundred pounds after reaching Paris.”
Shouts
and applause echoed around the square.
“Gentlemen,
gentlemen, Lady Sarah and I look forward to hearing the adventures of England’s
finest men. I am positive that once my daughter is acquainted with you fine
fellows, she will fall in love. With such excellent examples of the greatness
inherent in the English, how could she not? We also anticipate the pleasure of
your company during our summer in Paris. The only other thing I can say is…”
The earl lifted his quizzing glass to his eye and scanned the crowd. “Ready,
steady, go!”a Rafflecopter giveaway
4 comments:
I think one of the main qualities every gentleman should have is the ability to sing spontaneous duets. Otherwise, I think kindness is a quality every gentleman should have.
You're spot on Jen. :)
Every man should have a little humor and a little humility.
I agree Sue. Even if it's just one percent. ;)
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