Author Biography

Isabella Bradford is a pseudonym for Susan Holloway Scott, the award-winning author of more than forty historical novels and historical romances. Her bestselling books have been published in nineteen countries and translated into fourteen languages with more than three million copies in print. Bradford also writes as half of the Two Nerdy History Girls, an entertaining history blog that is also on Twitter and Pinterest. A graduate of Brown University, she lives with her family outside of Philadelphia.

Excerpt from Book

Chapter 1 * London April 1771 He knew in an instant that she was different from every other woman in the ballroom. Lord Geoffrey Fitzroy watched the lady as she paused in the arched doorway, a figure of perfect, self--contained calm beyond all the others, with their swirling spangled silks and too--bright laughter. She didn''t fidget or preen, the way women usually did while they were waiting to be announced to the company. She simply stood , and made standing look more elegantly fascinating than Geoffrey had ever dreamed possible. "Who is that divine lady?" he asked his brother Harry, the Earl of Hargreave, who was beside him at the far end of the ballroom with the other gentlemen who''d rather drink than dance. "Which lady?" Harry asked as he reached for a fresh glass of wine from the tray of a passing footman. "The room is filled with ladies." "The one in blue," Geoffrey said, amazed that his brother needed more description. To him there was clearly only one lady among the scores in attendance who could be called divine, a term he had not used carelessly. Even at this distance, she was exceptionally beautiful, but not conventionally so, with pale skin and gleaming dark hair that she wore without powder. "There, in the doorway." "That''s Miss Serena Carew." Harry turned toward Geoffrey, one brow raised with bemusement. "I cannot believe you don''t know her. Or rather, of her. No gentleman truly knows the distant Miss Serena Carew. None of us poor sots are worthy of her acquaintance." Geoffrey emptied his glass, setting it on a nearby sideboard. "Then that''s only because she has yet to know me," he said confidently, smoothing his sleeves to spruce up his already-immaculate evening coat. "A lack I intend to remedy at once." "I thought you kept clear of unmarried ladies," Harry said. "I recall you being quite firm on the subject of remaining a bachelor as long as was humanly possible." Geoffrey shrugged, his gaze still intent on the lady. "I''m not intending matrimony, Harry. I''m fully aware of how far I can go before her family begins demanding the banns be called. Exactly how far." "A moment, Geoffrey." Harry took him by the arm to hold him back. "Take care with this one. You should know the lady''s story before you begin the chase. She''s old Allwyn''s granddaughter, and he guards her like a hawk with a favorite chick. That''s his sister, Lady Morley, with her now." "What of it?" Geoffrey smiled, nonchalant. It didn''t matter to him that she was the granddaughter of the Marquis of Allwyn, not when he himself was the son of the Duke of Breconridge. "That''s hardly enough to put me off." "There''s more," Harry said. "Her father was employed by the East India Company, and she was born and spent her childhood in India." "Truly?" Geoffrey studied her with fresh interest. "Where? In Calcutta, with all the other English?" "At first, yes," Harry said, tapping his ebony cane lightly on the floor. "But the father had a falling out with the Company after his wife died. Resigned his commission outright. Turned Turk, as they say, and went off to make his fortune trading muskets and gunpowder for jewels and living like a pagan in the hills, complete with a harem of Hindi mistresses. I don''t know all the details---I doubt Allwyn himself does---but you''ll see soon enough how it has marked Miss Carew." Geoffrey''s curiosity grew as he continued to watch Miss Carew and her aunt. They had been announced to the company and were slowly making their way through the room, the older woman smiling and nodding and greeting friends. Miss Carew simply followed. It was as if she''d removed herself to another place entirely, a place she preferred far more to the gaiety and music of this ballroom. Geoffrey was not only attracted, he was intrigued. What could be more fascinating than a beauty with a mysterious past? Not, of course, that he''d confess any of this to his brother. "I cannot believe you''d call a lovely creature like that ''marked,'' " he said instead. "Surely you exaggerate, Harry." But Harry shook his head. "Judge the lady for yourself, and decide if I exaggerate. You''ll see soon enough that she is not at ease in company--- any company." Geoffrey grinned. "Fifty guineas says that she''ll dance with me." "Fifty?" Harry said, chuckling. "I''ll say a hundred, the surest wager I''ve ever made. I''ve never once seen that particular lady dance with anyone." "One hundred it is, then," Geoffrey said, patting Harry on the shoulder. "Watch me proceed, brother, and be astonished. I''ll be collecting those guineas before the late supper." Geoffrey plunged into the crowd, determined to win both the wager and the lady. Based on experience, he''d every reason to be confidant, too. He was tall and handsome, with an easy, infallible charm that women of every age and rank found nearly impossible to ignore or resist. He''d begun beguiling his nursery maids in the cradle even before he could speak, and since then the results had been the same with every other female he encountered. It was simply a fact: he liked women, and they liked him, very much. Why should Miss Carew be any different? In his estimation, Serena Carew was the most interesting and beautiful young lady in the room. It only made sense that she should be dancing with him. There was, of course, the faint possibility that she would reject him outright, the way his brother had predicted. Some ladies did insist on the nicety of a proper introduction, even in a crush like this, but he''d risk it for the chance to speak to her first, without the aunt or anyone else interfering. Besides, he never tired of the intoxicating challenge of pursuit, the first step toward flirtation, passion, even seduction. Anything was possible. She was turned away from him now, her back to him as he drew closer. Her shining dark hair set her apart from all the powdered heads around her, with the pale nape of her neck an elegant, vulnerable curve above the blue silk of her gown. She wore drop earrings and a necklace of diamonds and sapphires so large that on any other woman her age, the stones would surely have been paste. Yet on Serena Carew, Geoffrey knew they were genui≠ nothing about her would be so blatantly false. "Miss Carew," he said when he was at last close enough that she''d hear him. She did, and turned to face him in a single fluid movement. From a distance he''d seen she was a beauty, but he wasn''t prepared for the impact of that beauty with only a few feet between them. Her skin was golden ivory, her mouth full and red, her nose regal, and her brows perfectly arched, but it was her eyes that stunned him: almond--shaped and the color of clearest amber, deep--set and shadowed with mystery, and perhaps melancholy as well. Geoffrey wasn''t sure. Blast, he wasn''t sure of anything when he stared into eyes like that. But to his chagrin, he clearly had not affected her the same way. There wasn''t a flicker of warmth in those golden eyes, nor encouragement, either. "I do not know you, sir," she said, a simple declaration. He smiled his most winning smile, determined to thaw her chill, and not just because he knew his brother was watching. "Lord Geoffrey Fitzroy," he said with as much of a bow and flourish as he could manage in the crowd around them. "Your servant in every way, Miss Carew." She did not smile in return, nor did she so much as dip her head in acknowledgment of his higher rank. Instead she regarded him impassively, her expression not changing even a fraction. "Indeed, sir," she said. "If you are in truth the nobleman you profess to be, then you cannot be my servant. It is impossible for you to be both." "But I am," he said, smiling still. With a different inflection, her words might have been banter, teasing and intimate, but she was making it clear enough that they weren''t meant to be anything but discouraging. Damnation, could she have somehow learned of the wager he''d just made with his brother? What other reason could there be for her to be behaving so coldly toward him? "My name and title are mine through birth," he said, "but you, Miss Carew, are the sole reason for my devoted servitude, and I---" "Lord Geoffrey, good evening!" exclaimed Lady Morley, joining them. "Why, Serena, my dear, I see you have already met one of the most notable gentlemen in the room." Lady Morley beamed at Geoffrey, her dark eyes sharp beneath her oversized, frizzled wig. Clearly she''d overheard, and clearly, too, she was determined to repair matters as best she could. "Such a splendid gathering, Lord Geoffrey," she continued. "I trust you are enjoying yourself?" "I am, Lady Morley," he said. He didn''t usually consider chaperones allies, but in this case, he''d take any help that was offered. "Especially now that I am in the company of two such lovely ladies." Lady Morley chuckled happily and fluttered her fan. It was the response that Geoffrey had hoped to win from Miss Carew, who continued to regard him with the same degree of dispassionate interest that she''d display t

Details