The lost duke of Wyndham

Julia Quinn, 1970-

Book - 2008

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Subjects
Genres
Romance fiction
Published
New York : Avon Books 2008.
Language
English
Main Author
Julia Quinn, 1970- (-)
Physical Description
371 p. ; 18 cm
ISBN
9780060876104
Contents unavailable.
Review by Booklist Review

When Augusta Cavendish, the dowager Duchess of Wyndham, mistook the highwayman who robbed her carriage for her long-lost grandson, Grace Eversleigh thought her employer was just a bit bewildered. When the duchess later kidnapped the gentleman thief in order to take him back to Belgrave Castle, Grace thought Augusta might be just a bit insane. Much to Grace's surprise, it turns out that Augusta is correct. This creates a whole new set of problems for the Wyndhams. All of the signature elements that delight Quinn's legions of dedicated readers her wit, wonderfully entertaining characters, and sensual love story are neatly in place in the first of a pair of delicious historical romances.--Charles, John Copyright 2008 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Quinn (The Secret Diaries of Miss Miranda Cheever) embarks on a new series with Grace Eversleigh, companion to the dowager duchess of Wyndham, unwillingly helping the dowager kidnap a highwayman. The dowager believes Jack Audley, a former Army Captain, to be her grandson, the son of her long-deceased favorite son. But the current Duke of Wyndham, Thomas Cavendish, Jack's ostensible cousin, learns that he could be disposed of a title if it is proven that Jack's parents were married in Ireland before their untimely deaths. Jack attempts to overcome his tortured past with a quick smile and easy wit, and sparks between Jack and Grace result in a number of sizzling scenes that are made more powerful by the intensity of emotions involved. In her strongest effort to date, Quinn delivers complex, multifaceted characters who come vividly to life. (May) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Library Journal Review

Soldier-turned-highwayman Jack Audley is stunned when the noblewoman whose coach he waylays claims he looks like her dead son and might be the real Duke of Wyndham. He eventually goes to Belgrave Castle to get some answers, but his existence creates quite a stir, especially for his cousin Thomas, the current duke, and Thomas's betrothed, Amelia. Amelia's father intends for her to marry the titleholder, so if Jack should end up with it, this would be a problem not only for Thomas and Amelia but also for Jack and Grace Eversleigh, the dowager's companion, who were drawn to each other at first sight. This sexy, witty tale is typical of Quinn's light historicals and is the first in her Dukes of Wyndham duo; Mr. Cavendish, I Presume is scheduled for an October release. The popular Quinn (The Secret Diaries of Miss Miranda Cheever) is best known for her Bridgerton series. (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

The Lost Duke of Wyndham Chapter One Grace Eversleigh had been the companion to the dowager Duchess of Wyndham for five years, and in that time she had learned several things about her employer, the most pertinent of which was this: Under her grace's stern, exacting, and haughty exterior did not beat a heart of gold. Which was not to say that the offending organ was black. Her grace the dowager Duchess of Wyndham could never be called completely evil. Nor was she cruel, spiteful, or even entirely mean-spirited. But Augusta Elizabeth Candida Debenham Cavendish had been born the daughter of a duke, she had married a duke, and then given birth to another. Her sister was now a member of a minor royal family in some central European country whose name Grace could never quite pronounce, and her brother owned most of East Anglia. As far as the dowager was concerned, the world was a stratified place, with a hierarchy as clear as it was rigid. Wyndhams, and especially Wyndhams who used to be Debenhams, sat firmly at the top. And as such, the dowager expected certain behavior and deference to be paid. She was rarely kind, she did not tolerate stupidity, and her compliments were never falsely given. (Some might say they were never given at all, but Grace had, precisely twice, borne witness to a curt but honest "well done"--not that anyone believed her when she mentioned it later.) But the dowager had saved Grace from an impossible situation, and for that she would always possess Grace's gratitude, respect, and most of all, her loyalty. Still, there was no getting around the fact that the dowager was something less than cheerful, and so, as they rode home from the Lincolnshire Dance and Assembly, their elegant and well-sprung coach gliding effortlessly across the midnight-dark roads, Grace could not help but be relieved that her employer was fast asleep. It had been a lovely night, truly, and Grace knew she should not be so uncharitable. Upon arrival, the dowager had immediately retired to her seat of honor with her cronies, and Grace had not been required to attend to her. Instead, she had danced and laughed with all of her old friends, she had drunk three glasses of punch, she had poked fun at Thomas--always an entertaining endeavor; he was the current duke and certainly needed a bit less obsequiousness in his life. But most of all she had smiled. She had smiled so well and so often that her cheeks hurt. The pure and unexpected joy of the evening had left her body humming with energy, and she was now perfectly happy to grin into the darkness, listening to the soft snore of the dowager as they made their way home. Grace closed her eyes, even though she did not think herself sleepy. There was something hypnotic about the motion of the carriage. She was riding backwards --she always did-- and the rhythmic clip-clop of the horses' hooves was making her drowsy. It was strange. Her eyes were tired, even though the rest of her was not. But perhaps a nap would not be such a misplaced endeavor--as soon as they returned to Belgrave, she would be required to aid the dowager with-- Crack! Grace sat up straight, glancing over at her employer, who, miraculously, had not awakened. What was that sound? Had someone-- Crack! This time the carriage lurched, coming to a halt so swiftly that the dowager, who was facing front as usual, was jerked off her seat. Grace immediately dropped to her knees next to her employer, her arms instinctively coming around her. "What the devil?" the dowager snapped, but fell silent when she caught Grace's expression. "Gunshots," Grace whispered. The dowager's lips pursed tightly, and then she yanked off her emerald necklace and thrust it at Grace. "Hide this," she ordered. "Me?" Grace practically squeaked, but she shoved the jewels under a cushion all the same. And all she could think was that she would dearly like to smack a little sense into the esteemed Augusta Wyndham, because if she were killed because the dowager was too cheap to hand over her jewels-- The door was wrenched open. "Stand and deliver!" Grace froze, still crouched on the floor next to the dowager. Slowly, she lifted her head to the doorway, but all she could see was the silvery end of a gun, round and menacing, and pointed at her forehead. "Ladies," came the voice again, and this time it was a bit different, almost polite. The speaker then stepped forward out of the shadows, and with a graceful motion swept his arm in an arc to usher them out. "The pleasure of your company, if you will," he murmured. Grace felt her eyes dart back and forth--an exercise in futility, to be sure, as there was clearly no avenue of escape. She turned to the dowager, expecting to find her spitting with fury, but instead she had gone white. It was then that Grace realized she was shaking. The dowager was shaking. Both of them were. The highwayman leaned in, one shoulder resting against the door frame. He smiled then--slow and lazy, and with the charm of a rogue. How Grace could see all of that when half of his face was covered with his mask, she did not know, but three things about him were abundantly clear: He was young. He was strong. And he was dangerously lethal. "Ma'am," Grace said, giving the dowager a nudge. "I think we should do as he says." "I do love a sensible woman," he said, and smiled again. Just a quirk this time--one devastating little lift at the corner of his mouth. But his gun remained high, and his charm did little to assuage Grace's fear. And then he extended his other arm. He extended his arm. As if they were embarking at a house party. As if he were a country gentleman, about to inquire about the weather. The Lost Duke of Wyndham . Copyright © by Julia Quinn. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold. Excerpted from The Lost Duke of Wyndham by Julia Quinn All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.