Publisher Description

Set in the Georgian period, about 20 years before the Regency, These Old Shades is considered to be the book that launched Heyer's career. It features two of Heyer's most memorable characters: Justin Alastair, the Duke of Avon, and Leonie, whom he rescues from a life of ignomy and comes to love and marry.

The Duke is known for his coldness of manner, his remarkable omniscience, and his debauched lifestyle. Late one evening, he is accosted by a young person dressed in ragged boy's clothing running away from a brutal rustic guardian. The Duke buys "Leon" and makes the child his page. "Leon" is in fact Leonie, and she serves the Duke with deep devotion. When he uncovers the true story of her birth, he wreaks an unforgettable revenge on her sinister father in a chilling scene of public humiliation.

PRAISE FOR GEORGETTE HEYER:

"Our Georgette Heyer display of the Sourcebooks reprints has been a huge success, not only to those early fans like myself, but to many new readers who appreciate her style and wit." Nancy Olson, Quail Ridge Books, Raleigh, NC

"Reading Georgette Heyer is the next best thing to reading Jane Austen." Publishers Weekly

"Wonderful characters, elegant, witty writing, perfect period detail, and rapturously romantic. Georgette Heyer achieves what the rest of us only aspire to." Katie Fforde

"Absolute monarch of the Regency romance." Kirkus Reviews

Author Biography

The late Georgette Heyer was a very private woman. Her novels have charmed and delighted millions of readers for decades, though she rarely reached out to the public to discuss her works or personal life. She was born in Wimbledon in August 1902. She wrote her first novel, The Black Moth, at the age of seventeen to amuse her convalescent brother; it was published in 1921 and became an instant success.

Heyer published 56 books over the next 53 years, until her death from lung cancer in 1974. Her work included Regency romances, mysteries and historical fiction. Known as the Queen of Regen

Review Text

"There will never be another Regency writer this perfect." - Book Pleasures

Review Quote

" These Old Shades is not only a pleasure to read as a romance, but also for the heartwarming manner in which its young heroine attracts friends, and the way they all rally to her cause." -- BookLoons.com

Excerpt from Book

One His Grace of Avon Buys a Soul A gentleman was strolling down a side street in Paris, on his way back from the house of one Madame de Verchoureux. He walked mincingly, for the red heels of his shoes were very high. A long purple cloak, rose-lined, hung from his shoulders and was allowed to fall carelessly back from his dress, revealing a full-skirted coat of purple satin, heavily laced with gold; a waistcoat of flowered silk; faultless small clothes; and a lavish sprinkling of jewels on his cravat and breast. A three-cornered hat, point-edged, was set upon his powdered wig, and in his hand he carried a long beribboned cane. It was little enough protection against footpads, and although a light dress sword hung at the gentleman''s side its hilt was lost in the folds of his cloak, not quickly to be found. At this late hour, and in this deserted street, it was the height of foolhardiness to walk unattended and flaunting jewels, but the gentleman seemed unaware of his recklessness. He proceeded languidly on his way, glancing neither to left nor to right, apparently heedless of possible danger. But as he walked down the street, idly twirling his cane, a body hurled itself upon him, shot like a cannon-ball from a dark alley that yawned to the right of the magnificent gentleman. The figure clutched at the elegant cloak, cried out in a startled voice, and tried to regain his balance. His Grace of Avon swirled about, gripping his assailant''s wrists and bearing them downwards with a merciless strength belied by his foppish appearance. His victim gave a whimper of pain and sank quivering to his knees. ''M''sieur! Ah, let me go! I did not mean - I did not know - I would not - Ah, m''sieur, let me go!'' His Grace bent over the boy, standing a little to one side so that the light of an adjacent street lamp fell on that white agonized countenance. Great violet-blue eyes gazed wildly up at him, terror in their depths. ''Surely you are a little young for this game?'' drawled the Duke. ''Or did you think to take me unawares?'' The boy flushed, and his eyes grew dark with indignation. ''I did not seek to rob you! Indeed, indeed I did not! I - I was running away! I - oh, m''sieur, let me go!'' ''In good time, my child. From what were you running, may I ask? From another victim?'' ''No! Oh, please let me go! You - you do not understand! He will have started in pursuit! Ah, please, please, milor''!'' The Duke''s curious, heavy-lidded eyes never wavered from the boy''s face. They had widened suddenly, and become intent. ''And who, child, is "he"?'' ''My - my brother. Oh, please -'' Round the corner of the alley came a man, full-tilt. At sight of Avon he checked. The boy shuddered, and now clung to Avon''s arm. ''Ah!'' exploded the newcomer. ''Now, by God, if the whelp has sought to rob you, milor'', he shall pay for it! You scoundrel! Ungrateful brat! You shall be sorry, I promise you! Milor'', a thousand apologies! The lad is my young brother. I was beating him for his laziness when he slipped from me -'' The Duke raised a scented handkerchief to his thin nostrils. ''Keep your distance, fellow,'' he said haughtily. ''Doubtless beating is good for the young.'' The boy shrank closer to him. He made no attempt to escape, but his hands twitched convulsively. Once again the Duke''s strange eyes ran over him, resting for a moment on the copper-red curls that were cut short and ruffled into wild disorder. ''As I remarked, beating is good for the young. Your brother, you said?'' He glanced now at the swarthy, coarse-featured young man. ''Yes, noble sir, my brother. I have cared for him since our parents died, and he repays me with ingratitude. He is a curse, noble sir, a curse!'' The Duke seemed to reflect. ''How old is he, fellow?'' ''He is nineteen, milor''.'' The Duke surveyed the boy. ''Nineteen. Is he not a little small for his age?'' ''Why, milor'', if - if he is it is no fault of mine! I - I have fed him well. I pray you, do not heed what he says! He is a viper, a wild-cat, a veritable curse!'' ''I will relieve you of the curse,'' said his Grace calmly. The man stared, uncomprehending. ''Milor'' - ?'' ''I suppose he is for sale?'' A cold hand stole into the Duke''s, and clutched it. ''Sale, milor''? You - ?'' ''I believe I will buy him to be my page. What is his worth? A louis? Or are curses worthless? An interesting problem.'' The man''s eyes gleamed suddenly with avaricious cunning. ''He is a good boy, noble sir. He can work. Indeed, he is worth much to me. And I have an affection for him. I -'' ''I will give a guinea for your curse.'' ''Ah, but no, milor''! He is worth more! Much, much more!'' ''Then keep him,'' said Avon, and moved on. The boy ran to him, clinging to his arm. ''Milor'', take me! Oh, please take me! I will work well for you! I swear it! Oh, I beg of you, take me!'' His Grace paused. ''I wonder if I am a fool?'' he said in English. He drew the diamond pin from his cravat, and held it so that it winked and sparkled in the light of the lamp. ''Well, fellow? Will this suffice?'' The man gazed at the jewel as though he could hardly believe his eyes. He rubbed them, and drew nearer, staring. ''For this,'' Avon said, ''I purchase your brother, body and soul. Well?'' ''Give it me!'' whispered the man, and stretched out his hand. ''The boy is yours, milor''.'' Avon tossed the pin to him. ''I believe I requested you to keep your distance,'' he said. ''You offend my nostrils. Child, follow me.'' On he went, down the street, with the boy at a respectful distance behind him. They came at last to the Rue St-Honor

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