Fans of Eloisa James & Julia Quinn discussion
Monday Puzzler
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August 8th, Searching for someplace to hide...
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This was good, but I can't say that this was my favorite book in the series. The "oldest" brother's book was more enjoyable, with a stronger cast of characters.
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@Okie, I love you girl!
@PJ, I loved this book too!!!
@DLS, you can do it! I know you'll remember!
@Aly, I agree, I did want a little more, but overall I was satisfied.
@Shh I'm reading, I'll agree with you too, I really loved the first book in the series!!!
Can't wait for the next one in the series to come out!!
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Ok, the answer is: Eleven Scandals to Start to Win a Duke's Heart, by Sarah MacLean
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Monica, thanks for the clarification! That makes sense!
This scene opens while our Heronie is taking a stroll (alone!) through the gardens during a ball, however she wasn't alone for long. After being accosted, and having words with the "Bad Guy" she punched him in the nose and gets hit back. This starts after racing away from the man...
Quietly, she opened the door to one of the great hulking vehicles and levered herself up and into the carriage without the aid of a stepping block. She heard a tear as the fabric of her dress caught on a sharp edge and ignored the pang of disappointment as she yanked her skirts into the coach and reached for the door, closing it behind her as quietly as she could.
The willow green satin had been a gift from her brother- a nod to her hatred of the pale, prim frocks worn by the rest of the unmarried ladies of the ton. And now it was ruined.
She sat stiffly on the floor just inside the carriage, knees pulled up to her chest, and let the blackness embrace her. Willing her panicked breath to calm, she strained to hear something, anything through the muffled silence. She resisted the urge to move, afraid to draw attention to her hiding place.
"Tego, tegis, tegit,” she barely whispered, the soothing cadence if the Latin focusing her thoughts. “Tegimus, tegitis, tegunt.”
A faint shadow passed above, hiding the dim light that mottled the wall of the lushly upholstered carriage. _____________ froze briefly before pressing back into the corner of the coach, making herself as small as possible- a challenge considering her uncommon height. She waited, desperate, and when the barely there light returned, she swallowed and closed her eyes tightly, letting out a long, slow breath.
In English, now.
“I hide. You hide. She hides—“
She held her breath as several masculine shouts broke thought the silence, praying for them to move past her hiding place and leave her, for once, in peace. When the vehicle rocked under the movement of a coachman scrambling into his seat, she knew her prayers would go unanswered.
So much for hiding.
She swore once, the epithet once of the more colorful of her native tongue, and considered her options. "Bad Guy" could be just outside, but even the daughter of an Italian merchant who had been in London for only a few months knew she could not arrive at the main entrance of her brother’s home in a carriage belonging to God knew whom without causing a scandal of epic proportions.
Her decision made, she reached for the handle on the door and shifted her weight, building up the courage to escape – to launch herself out of the vehicle, onto the cobblestones and into the nearest patch of darkness.
And then the carriage began to move.
And escape was no longer an option.
For a brief moment, she considered opening the door and leaping from the carriage anyway. But even she was not so reckless. She did not want to die. She just wanted the ground to open up and swallow her, and the carriage whole. Was that too much to ask?
Taking in the interior of the vehicle she realized that her best bet was to return to the floor and wait for the carriage to stop. Once it did, she would exit via the door farthest form the house and hope, desperately, that no one was there to see her.
Surely something had to go right for her tonight. Surely she had a few moments to escape before the aristocrats beyond descended.
She took a deep breath as the coach came to a stop. Levering herself up… reaching for the handle… ready to spring.
Before she could exit, however, the door on the opposite side of the carriage burst open, taking the air inside with it in a violent rush. Her eyes flew to the enormous man standing just beyond the coach door.
Oh, no.
The lights at the front of ________ House blazed behind him, casting his face into shadow, but it was impossible to miss the way the warm, yellow light illuminated his mass of golden curls, turning him into a dark angel—cast from Paradise, refusing to return his halo.
She felt a subtle shift in him, a quiet, almost imperceptible tensing of his broad shoulders and know that she had been discovered. __________ knew that she should be thankful or this discretion when he pulled the door to him, eliminating any space through which others might see her, but when he ascended into the carriage easily, with the aid of neither servant nor step, gratitude was far from what she was feeling.
Panic was more accurate emotion.
She swallowed, single thought screaming through her mind.
She should have taken her chances with BAD GUY.
For there was certainly no one in the world she would like to face less at this particular moment then the unbearable, immovable _____of _________.
Surely, the universe was conspiring against her.
The door closed behind him with a soft click, and they were alone.
Desperation surged, propelling her into movement, and she reached for the near door, eager for escape. Her fingers fumbled for the handle.
“I wouldn’t if I were you.”
The calm, cool words rankled as they cut through the darkness.