From Publishers Weekly
In her sequel to Where Roses Grow Wild, Cabot has written a wildly sexy black comedy, set in Victorian England, about a duke's long-lived and exasperating love for a beautiful artist. Witty dialogue abounds from the first page, but what sets this romance apart are the hero's (Jeremy, Duke of Rawlings) charm and keen sense of humor, which immediately endear him to readers despite his seeming selfishness and immorality. Artist Maggie Hubert, to whom Jeremy has proposed many times since she was 16, believes she is not duchess material and so has pledged to marry a French gallery owner. Jeremy, who went into Her Majesty's service to prove himself worthy of Maggie, sets out to win Maggie's love and break her engagement. First, however, he must convince Maggie and the world that the Star of Jaipur he was given in India in return for soldierly duties is a sapphire, not, as rumors have it, a princess who insists they are betrothed. There is only one minor flaw in this jewel of a romance: the hero's title is apparently also his surname, a faux pas that will annoy more historically conscious readers.
Copyright 1998 Reed Business Information, Inc.
Copyright 1998 Reed Business Information, Inc.
Review
"Sexy, romantic...delightful."--Jill Jones, author of Essence of My Desire
Book Description
They parted in disgrace...But desire would bring them back together.
Years ago, in one explosive instant, childhood rivalry turned into wild passion for Jeremy, handsome young Duke of Rawlings, and Maggie Herbert, the object of his affections. Unfortunately, the ensuing scandal found them banished to separate corners of the world.
Now fate has joined Jeremy and Maggie again-- for a long-overdue dance of desire as uncompromising as the lovers themselves. Jeremy, a decorated soldier, is determined to claim Maggie at last. And Maggie, engaged to be married to another man, finds her secret fantasies of Jeremy spinning out of control. All that stands between them and the steamy passion the years can no longer chain is the past-- and a present steeped in jealousy, intrigue, and danger...
Years ago, in one explosive instant, childhood rivalry turned into wild passion for Jeremy, handsome young Duke of Rawlings, and Maggie Herbert, the object of his affections. Unfortunately, the ensuing scandal found them banished to separate corners of the world.
Now fate has joined Jeremy and Maggie again-- for a long-overdue dance of desire as uncompromising as the lovers themselves. Jeremy, a decorated soldier, is determined to claim Maggie at last. And Maggie, engaged to be married to another man, finds her secret fantasies of Jeremy spinning out of control. All that stands between them and the steamy passion the years can no longer chain is the past-- and a present steeped in jealousy, intrigue, and danger...
About the Author
Patricia Cabot is a writer, administrator, and freelance artist. She lives in New York with her husband and one-eyed cat Henrietta. This is her second novel.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Portrait of My Heart
Part One
Chapter 1
YORKSHIRE, MAY 1871
"Tell me you didn't," Lord Edward Rawlings groaned, dropping his face into his hands. "Not Oxford, Jeremy."
Jeremy regarded his uncle worriedly from across the tavern table. He wondered if he ought to call over the barmaid and order a cup of something stronger than ale. Edward looked as if he could have used a whisky or two. It was still early yet, however, and this was the Goat and Anvil, an alehouse located just a few miles down the road from Rawlings Manor. The staff might look a little askance at the Duke of Rawlings and his uncle tossing back whiskies before noon.
"It's really not as bad as all that, you know, Uncle Edward," Jeremy said lightly. "And you can't say you didn't expect something of the kind. After all, I've already had the distinction of being sent down from Eton and Harrow. I didn't want to deprive your alma mater of the privilege, as well."
Edward didn't laugh. Jeremy hadn't really expected him to, and he studied his uncle's bent head reflectively. In the six months since Christmas, when Jeremy had last seen him, more gray than ever had seeped into the dark hair at Edward's temples. Jeremy didn't flatter himself that he was the cause of the discoloration. After all, his uncle was currently one of the most influential men in the House of Lords, in a position of such authority that a bit of gray was not only expected, but necessary to lend authority to a man who, at only a little over forty years of age, might otherwise be perceivedas too young by his more conservative peers. But the knowledge that he was adding to his uncle's already burdensome worries didn't exactly sit well with the duke.
"Sent down from Oxford," Edward groaned again, into the foam topping his tankard of beer.
He'd been stating the phrase over and over, ever since Jeremy had casually let drop the reason for his sudden reappearance in Yorkshire. Jeremy was beginning to regret having said anything at all. He ought, he realized belatedly, to have waited until dinner at the manor house, when his aunt Pegeen would have been present, before making the announcement. While there was no one on earth whom Jeremy was more loath to disappoint than his aunt, at least she, unlike her husband, was capable of putting her nephew's many and varied misadventures into perspective. The fact that Jeremy had been sent down from Oxford wouldn't cause Pegeen so much as to raise an eyebrow. Of course, if she'd known the reason he'd been sent down ... now that would have made her unhappy, and it was for that reason that Jeremy had chosen to meet his uncle alone before making his way to the manor house.
"Bloody hell," Edward swore, finally looking up to meet his nephew's eye, as clear gray as his own. "Did you have to kill the man, Jerry? Couldn't you have simply winged 'im?"
"When a man has stated that he intends to fight you unto death, Uncle," Jeremy said, with some acerbity, "it is generally considered wisest to dispatch him permanently, if at all possible. Had I winged him, he'd only recover and come after me again. And I can't spend the whole of my life looking over my shoulder for crazed assassins."
Edward shook his head. "And yet you say you never touched the girl?"
For the first time, Jeremy looked uncomfortable. Having grown up to be every bit as large as his uncle, who towered over most other men at a few inches over six feet tall, Jeremy had trouble fitting into the narrow settles at the Goat and Anvil, and had to place his elbows on the table in order togive himself breathing room. This was not, however, the reason for his current discomfort.
"Well," he said slowly. "I didn't say I never touched her--"
"Jeremy," rumbled his uncle warningly.
"---but I sure as hell didn't want to marry her! And there's the rub."
"Jeremy," Edward said again, in the deep voice Jeremy knew he reserved for Parliament and the disciplining of children. "Haven't I explained to you that there are women with whom a man may ... er ... dally, without exciting the expectation of marriage, and other women, with whom he'd best not associate at all unless his intentions are--"
"I know," Jeremy said, quickly cutting off a lecture he knew by heart, having heard it at least twice a month since he'd been old enough to shave. "I know, Uncle Edward. And I've certainly learned the difference over the years. But this particular young lady was introduced to me--purposely, I know now, and by her own brother, if you can imagine anything so sordid--in such a manner as would have led any man to believe she was nothing more than a charming bit of fluff to be had for the asking. She took my money readily enough, I assure you. It was only after the damage was done that Pierce came forward baying about how I'd sullied his sister's honor." Jeremy shuddered a little at the memory. "He kept insisting that I marry the hussy or meet the business end of his rapier. Is it any wonder, then, that I chose the rapier?" Jeremy lifted his tankard and sipped the yeasty brew within it. "Bad luck for Pierce he chose blades," he remarked bemusedly. "He'd have done better with pistols, I expect."
"Jeremy." Edward's face, which in the eleven years since Jeremy had first met him had grown leaner and better looking as his uncle's way of life became less dissipated, looked very stern. "You are aware that you've committed murder, aren't you?"
"Oh, come now, Uncle Edward," Jeremy chided. "It was a fair fight. His own second called it. And I'll admit, I lungedfor his arm, not his heart. But the bloody fool tried to feint, and the next thing I knew--"
"I don't condone dueling," Lord Edward interrupted imperiously. "I attempted to make that clear to you the last time this happened. And I clearly remember pointing out to you at that time that if you have to fight, do it on the Continent, for God's sake. You may be titled, but you're not above the law, you know. Now you've got no choice but to leave the country."
"I know," Jeremy said, rolling his eyes. He'd heard this lecture a few dozen times, as well.
Edward didn't notice his nephew's ennui. "I suppose the villa in Portofino would probably be best, though the apartment in Paris is currently unoccupied, I think. It's up to you. Six months ought to be enough. It's damned lucky for you, Jerry, that the college doesn't have enough evidence against you to prosecute, or--"
"Right," Jeremy interrupted with a sly wink. "Or I'd be behind bars right now, instead of enjoying a tankard with my good old uncle Ed."
"I'll thank you not to joke about it," Edward said severely. "You are a duke, Jerry, and as such are vested with both privileges and responsibilities, one of which is to refrain from killing your peers."
It was Jeremy's turn to get angry. After lowering the tankard with a thump, he banged a white-knuckled fist squarely in the center of the table and exploded. "You think I don't know that?" He kept his voice just low enough so as not to attract the notice of the other patrons of the alehouse. "Do you think you haven't successfully drilled that sentiment into my head over the past decade? Since that day you showed up on our doorstep in Applesby and told Pegeen that I was the heir to the Rawlings duchy, I've heard nothing but 'You're a duke, Jerry, you can't do that,' and 'You're a duke, Jerry, you must do this.' Good God, do you have any idea how sick I am of constantly hearing what I must and must not do?"
Edward, looking a little surprised at this sudden outburst,blinked. "No ... But I have a feeling you're going to tell me."
"I never wanted to go away to school," Jeremy went on bitterly. "I would have been far happier at the village school here in Rawlingsgate. Yet you shipped me off to Eton, and when I got myself expelled from there, you bribed the people at Harrow and then at Winchester, and on and on until I was instructed that I was to spend the next few years of my life at college. I hadn't any interest in going to Oxford--you know I hadn't--and yet you insisted, even though it was very clear that I'm far more capable with a sword than with a pencil. And now, crime of crimes, I'm sent down from Oxford upon suspicion of dueling with a schoolmate--"
"Whom you freely admit you killed," Edward pointed out.
"Of course I killed him!" Jeremy held out both hands, palms up, in a gesture of helplessness. "Pierce was a cad and a hanger-on, and I'm not the only person who's glad he's dead, though I took no more pleasure in dispatching him than in crushing a mosquito. And you have the audacity to accuse me of joking about it. Well, what else am I to do? My entire life up till now has been a joke, hasn't it?" Jeremy glared across the table at his uncle. "Well? Hasn't it?"
Edward's features, every bit as finely chiseled and handsome as his nephew's, twisted cynically. "Oh, yes," he said, in a voice fairly dripping with sarcasm. "Your existence has been tragic, indeed. You've been unloved and unappreciated. Your aunt Pegeen sacrificed nothing for you all those years she cared for you without the slightest notion that you'd ever inherit a duchy. She didn't go without food herself in order to insure that you'd had a good breakfast--"
"Leave Pegeen out of this," Jeremy cut his uncle off quickly. "I'm not talking about Pegeen. I'm talking about how after you brought us to Rawlings, and married her, you--"
For the first time since Jeremy had told him of his expulsion, Edward looked amused. "If you're upset about the fact that I married your aunt, Jerry, I might point out that it's a bit late to change that. After all, we've already providedyou with four cousins. It would be hard work to talk the archbishop into an annulment at this juncture."
Jeremy didn...
