Fans of Eloisa James & Julia Quinn discussion
Monday Puzzler
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February 21 post VERY late, with apologies!
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Oh my I laughed so hard no idea of the title but I will read
haha No one checked if the dead guy was dead lol
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Robert was more interesting dead. Alive, he's just an ass. No wonder Grandmother slapped him three times.
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My standing rule about Julia Quinn is never read her anywhere it would be embarrassing to burst out laughing .
Too risky .
Must be time for a re-read, I didn't recognise it. :-D
Heroine is found by her grandmother in her bedroom with her unwanted suitor, who was picked out for her by her grand parents, lying still on the ground, and with the man she loves also in the room.
What the devil is going on in here?”
Heroine froze. Not in horror. It was something far, far worse than horror.
“Heroine?” her grandmother snapped, marching in through the connecting door between their rooms. “It sounds like a herd of elephants. How do you expect a woman to get any sleep when—Oh.” She stopped in her tracks, taking in the sight of Hero. Then she looked down and saw the earl. “Bloody hell.”
She made a sound that Heroine could not quite interpret. Not a sigh, really; more of a grunt. Of supreme irritation.
“Which one of you killed him?” she demanded.
“Neither,” Heroine said quickly. “He just … died.”
“In your room?”
“I didn’t invite him in,” she ground out.
“No, you wouldn’t.” And damn if her grandmother didn’t sound almost regretful. Heroine could only stare at her in shock. Or maybe wonder.
“What are you doing here?” Lady Vickers asked, turning her frosty glare to Hero.
“Exactly what you think, my lady,” he said. “Unfortunately, my timing was not what it could have been.” He looked down at his uncle. “He was like this when I arrived.”
“Better this way,” Lady Vickers muttered. “If he’d come in with you on top of her… Good Lord, I can’t even imagine the commotion.”
She ought to blush, Heroine thought. She really ought. But she couldn’t summon the will. She wasn’t sure anything could embarrass her now.
“Well, we’ll have to get rid of him,” her grandmother said, using the same voice Heroine imagined she would have used about an old sofa. She cocked her head toward Heroine. “I must say, this all worked out nicely for you.”
“What are you saying?” Heroine asked, horrified.
“He’s the earl now,” Lady Vickers responded, flicking her fingers in Hero’s direction. “And he’ll be a damn sight more palatable than Robert here.”
Robert, Heroine thought, looking down at Lord Newbury. She hadn’t even known his given name. It seemed strange, somehow. The man had wanted to marry her, he’d attacked her, and then he’d died at her feet. And she hadn’t even known his name.
For a moment they all just stared down at him. Finally, Lady Vickers said, “Damn, he’s fat.”
Heroine slammed a hand against her mouth, trying not to laugh. Because it wasn’t funny. It was not funny.
But she really wanted to laugh.
“I don’t think we will be able to get him down to the saloon without waking half the house,” Hero said. He looked over at Lady Vickers. “I don’t suppose you know where his room is.”
“At least as far as the saloon. And right next to the Challises. You’ll never get him in without waking them up.”
“I was going to wake my cousin,” Seb told her. “With one more person we might be able to do it.”
“We won’t be able to move him with five more people,” Lady Vickers retorted. “Not quietly, anyway.”
Heroine stepped forward. “Maybe if we …”
But her grandmother cut her off with a sigh worthy of the Covent Garden stage. “ Go ahead,” she said, waving an arm to the connecting door. “Put him in my bed.”
“What?” Heroine gasped.
“We’ll just have to let everyone think he died having his way with me.”
“But—but—” Heroine gaped at her grandmother, then looked at Lord Newbury, and then at Hero, who appeared to be speechless.
Hero. Speechless. Apparently, this was what it took.
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Lady Vickers said, clearly irritated with their lack of action. “It’s not as if we haven’t done it before.”
Heroine sucked in her breath so hard she choked. “You … what?”
“It was years ago,” her grandmother replied, snapping her hand in the air as if batting away a fly. “But everybody knew about it.”
“And you wanted me to marry him?”
Lady Vickers planted her hands on her hips and stared Heroine down. “Do you really think now is the time to make complaints? Besides, he wasn’t that bad, if you know what I mean. And your uncle Percival turned out quite nicely.”
“Oh my God,” Heroine moaned. “Uncle Percy.”
“Is apparently my uncle Percy,” Hero said, shaking his head.
“Cousin, I should think,” Lady Vickers said briskly. “Now then, are we going to move him or not? And I still haven’t heard either one of you thanking me for throwing myself on the bayonet here, so to speak.”
It was true. As much as her grandmother had got her into this mess, insisting that Heroine marry Lord Newbury in the first place, she was certainly doing her best to get her out of it. There would be a terrific scandal, and Heroine didn’t even want to begin to imagine the cartoons and caricatures that would appear in the gossip papers.
Although somehow she suspected her grandmother wouldn’t mind a little notoriety in her old age.
“Thank you,” Hero said, apparently finding his voice first. “It is much appreciated, I am sure.”
“Come along, come along.” Lady Vickers made little get to it motions with her hands. “He’s not going to move himself into my bed.”
Hero grabbed his uncle under the arms again, and Heroine moved to his feet, but as she wrapped her hands around his ankles and began to lift, she heard a very peculiar sound. And when she looked up, her eyes wide with horror at what this had to mean …
Newbury’s eyes opened.
Heroine shrieked, and she dropped him.
“Almighty God,” her grandmother cried out. “Did neither of you check to see if he was even dead?”
“I just assumed,” Heroine protested. Her heart was racing, and she couldn’t seem to slow her breathing down. She sagged against the edge of the bed. It was like the time her brothers had thrown sheets over their heads and jumped out in front of her on All Hallows’ Eve, only a thousand times worse. A thousand thousand.
Lady Vickers turned her glare on Hero.
“I believed her,” he said, setting Lord Newbury’s head gently back down on the carpet. They all peered over him. His eyes had closed again.
“Is he dead again?” Heroine asked.
“If you’re lucky,” her grandmother said acerbically.
Heroine shot a frantic look at Hero. He was already staring at her, with an expression that clearly said, You didn’t check?
She tried to answer with her own widened eyes and hand signals, but she had a feeling she wasn’t making herself clear, and finally Hero just said, “What are you saying?”
“I don’t know,” she moaned.
“You two are worthless,” Lady Vickers grumbled. She marched forward and then crouched down. “Newbury!” she barked. “Wake up.”
Heroine chewed on her lip and glanced nervously at the door. They had long since stopped trying to be quiet.
“Wake up!”
Lord Newbury started to make a moaning, mumbling sort of sound.
“Robert,” Lady Vickers snapped, “wake up.” She slapped him across the face. Hard.
Heroine looked up at Hero. He seemed as stunned as she was, and just as happy to let her grandmother take the lead.
Lord Newbury’s eyes opened again, fluttering like a sick cross between butterflies and jellyfish. He choked and gasped, trying to prop himself up on his elbows. He looked at Lady Vickers, his eyes making a few last incredulous blinks before he said, “Margaret?”
She slapped him again. “Idiot!”
He fell back down. “What the hell?”
“She is my granddaughter, Robert,” Lady Vickers hissed. “My granddaughter! How dare you!”
Every now and then, Heroine thought, her grandmother’s love for her shone through. Usually in the most peculiar ways.
“She was supposed to marry me,” Lord Newbury sputtered.
“And now she’s not. That doesn’t give you license to attack her.”
Heroine felt Hero’s hand slip into hers, warm and comforting. She gave it a squeeze.
“She tried to kill me,” Newbury said.
“I did not!” Heroine lurched forward, but Hero tightened his grip on her hand, holding her back.
“Let your grandmother take care of this,” he murmured.
But Heroine could not let the insult pass. “I was defending myself,” she said hotly.
“With a poker?” Newbury countered.
Heroine turned to her grandmother in disbelief. “How else would you have me defend myself?”
“Really, Robert,” Lady Vickers said, dripping with sarcasm.
He finally managed to heave himself into a sitting position, grunting and groaning all the while. “For God’s sake,” he snapped. “Will someone come and help me?”
No one did.
“I’m not strong enough,” Lady Vickers said with a shrug.
“What’s he doing here?” Lord Newbury said, jerking his head toward Hero.
Hero crossed his arms and glowered. “I don’t think you are in any position to be asking questions.”
“Clearly I must take charge,” Lady Vickers announced, as if she had been doing anything but. “Newbury,” she barked, “you are to go back to your room and depart first thing in the morning.”