Excerpt: 'The Earl's Defiant Wallflower' by Erica Ridley

Erica Ridley, author of The Earl's Defiant Wallflower (out today!), shares an excerpt with us from book one of her Dukes of War historical romance series.

Erica: The Dukes of War historical romance series stars a group of soldiers returning home to Regency England. It must have been especially challenging to return to "normal" after years of active duty, when "normal" meant upper-class Polite Society. How do you make the switch from leading troops and dodging bullets to discussing cravats and curricles with the idle rich who have nothing better to do than flit from soiree to soiree in search of meaningless amusements?

Oliver York comes back from fighting Napoleon's army only to discover that his father died in his absence, making Oliver head of a destitute earldom. There's no time to recuperate from the horrors of war. As the new Lord Carlisle, he's got a failing estate to rescue, and tenants counting on him for their survival.

Grace Halton is penniless and American, and she's only in London long enough to satisfy the terms of her dowry so that she can rush the funds back home in time to save her sick mother. She needs to marry well — and fast. Much as she wishes otherwise, Oliver is the last man she should pay any attention to.

In this scene, Grace is participating in the type of country-dance in which two couples intermittently switch partners, putting her face-to-face with the sort of suitor her brain knows she needs … and the wonderful man her heart desperately wants.

Here's the excerpt from The Earl's Defiant Wallflower …

Mr. Downing was a wonderful candidate. But the music returned her to Lord Carlisle. He pinned her with his gaze.

"Your smiles don't reach your eyes tonight. Is something amiss?" The corner of his mouth lifted. "Besides my lack of social graces?"

Grace frowned up at him. He should not be able to read her this well. She could scarcely admit her intention to marry and flee home, so gave him part of the truth. "I'll be going back to America before too long. I was just thinking about the voyage home. Three weeks in a tiny shared cabin on a passenger ship."

He pulled a face. "I don't mind cramped spaces, but sailing to and from the Continent very nearly killed me. I'll never again cross so much as a river in anything less than a sturdy carriage on a nice solid bridge."

"Seasickness?" she asked with sympathy.

His shudder did not appear feigned. "There's seasickness, and there's seasickness. If I were Catholic, they would have administered the last rites. I was less afraid of enemy fire than of undertaking the return trip to England." His eyes were warm but serious. He gave her hand a quick squeeze. "You made it here. You can make it home."

Grace thought back to those long weeks at sea. Her shoulders relaxed. He was right. She had been ill, but not deathly so. Once she had her dowry money in hand, she would have no problem getting back to her mother. Things were going to work out.

"Thank you." She smiled up at him. "Talking to you has made me feel much better."

He affected a haughty accent. "A gentleman cannot accept thanks for simply being a gentleman."

"You?" she teased. "A gentleman?"

He wiggled his eyebrows. "I certainly do not have to be. If the lady prefers, I will happily accept gratitude in the form of kissing me senseless."

She would've kicked him senseless if they weren't in the middle of the dance floor. Or perhaps kissed him. If he kept inciting her to violent passions, she could not be held accountable for her actions. Especially when he always seemed to know just what to say. Her eyes focused on his mouth. He was a gentleman. If their situations had been different, she would have liked very much to have those sensual lips press against hers ...

Then Mr. Downing reached for her and Lord Carlisle was gone.

Mr. Downing's eyes gazed somewhere over her shoulder. "The cucumber cakes were lovely tonight, wouldn't you agree?"

She shuddered. Cucumber and cake didn't belong in the same sentence. "I'm afraid I didn't have opportunity to try them."

"The ham was quite gorgeous, as well. Very thinly sliced. Almost transparent."

"Positively ghostly," she murmured.

"The punch was a bit warm for my taste, however." His lips pursed. "Though I suppose it always is."

Fascinating as this line of talk was, Grace needed to steer them back to the primary interview. At this point, she'd take the first viable suitor she could get. She leaned closer to Mr. Downing. "Do you think your life would be greatly changed if you were to marry?"

He looked surprised. "Change how? I wouldn't marry a woman who sought to disrupt my solitude or my schedule."

Grace nodded once, more because she found his answer satisfactory than because she agreed with him. But before she could ask another probing question, he twirled her back into Lord Carlisle's arms.

"I'm not supposed to be in your arms," she hissed up at him. "This is a country-dance, not a waltz."

He drew her closer. "And yet I notice you do not pull away."

"Humph." He had her there. "Why are you looking for Ravenwood?"

"Why have you spent the evening in the company of so many imbeciles? Every time I turn around, it's a prance in the garden here, a country-dance there."

"I'm trying to determine if they are imbeciles." She raised her chin. Yet something made her want to confide in him. "If you must know, I'm screening potential suitors."

"Oh? You didn't invite me to the garden. Or give me a chance to ask you to dance." The ferocity of his scowl melted her knees.

"You've made it clear you're not looking to wed." She arched her brows. "Besides, I already know we won't suit. Do you disagree?"

He held her gaze.

She held her breath.

And then Mr. Downing swung her back to his side.

"It certainly feels like January," he said, his voice as placid as his expression. "Are you looking forward to the Season?"

It was the first personal question he'd asked her. Perhaps that was why she answered so honestly. "No."

He tilted his head. "I never do, either. I promise, I do try."

She bit her lower lip. Might he also be sizing her up as a potential wife? "What other hobbies do you enjoy?"

"Reading, mostly. I don't garden because plants make me sneeze." He frowned. "Are you a lover of flowers, Miss Halton?"

He was sizing her up as a future Mrs. Downing!

"No," she lied quickly. "Books are far more favorable. They don't ... wilt."

Mr. Downing beamed at her happily. "What authors are you currently reading?"

Her eyes widened, but the music saved her from having to invent names. In the space of a heartbeat, her hand was back in Lord Carlisle's.

"Yes," he said abruptly.

She stared at him. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, I disagree with your assessment." By the set of his jaw, he was displeased he'd even mentioned it. But now that he had, he wouldn't back down. "We would obviously suit."

Her breath caught in her throat. Yes! No. That is—

"But I can't marry you." He glanced away, and put a more respectable distance between them. "I'm sorry."

"I can't marry you either," she said much too loudly. Informing herself as much as him. His rejection stung. Who cared what his reasons were? She had reasons of her own. There was nothing to feel disappointed about. No reason at all for the empty feeling in her stomach or the urge to burrow back into his arms.

His next words were so soft she almost missed them.

"But I would've enjoyed it."

Find out more about Erica and her books at www.EricaRidley.com.