Book two in the Wedded Women Quartet,
A Ravishing Redhead, is scheduled for release on May 1st! I have thoroughly enjoyed writing Margaret and Henry's story. Margaret, a feisty redhead who always says
exactly what she is thinking is the exact opposite of Catherine from
A Brooding Beauty. In Henry & Margaret we find a couple that actually TALKS to each other... unfortunately, perhaps a little too much! I hope you enjoy this brief excerpt from ARR, and make sure to check it out in its entirety when it is released in less than a month.
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“It
is not that you are a horrible man, or even an ill tempered one. We simply do not
compliment each other,” she said.
Surprised
to discover he was rather starting to enjoy himself, Henry reclined back in his
chair and raised one eyebrow. “Is that so?” he said.
Margaret
nodded vigorously. “Yes. Precisely so.”
Now
it was Henry’s turn to play with his fork. He turned the utensil over and over
in his hand, studying the silver handle as if it was the most fascinating thing
in the world before he said, in a deceptively calm tone, “Where the bloody
hell is all of my money?”
“Your…
your money?” she squeaked.
“Yes.
My money. The money I sent here every month since I left. The money that should
have been going back into the estate to pay for its upkeep. Since the roof is
all but falling down around us, I have to ask, darling, sweet wife. What have
you been spending it on? Surely not clothes,” he said rather snidely after
looking pointedly at her choice of apparel.
“Your
money?” Margaret repeated, leaving Henry to wonder if his wife was a bit daft.
“Yes,”
he said, all thoughts as to the color of her hair banished as anger brought his
blood to a rapid boil. “For the past year I have sent you a damn fortune! Yet I
return to find three quarters of the staff dismissed, the gardens in complete
disrepair, the fields fallow, and the house a mess. So let’s hear it, madam.
Where has it gone?”
“Eight
months,” she said quietly.
“What?”
Henry frowned, certain he had misunderstood her.
Margaret
got to her feet. Leaning towards him, she spoke in a voice loud enough to be
heard in the next town over. “Eight months, sixteen days, and nine hours. That
is how long you have been gone. Not a year. Not quite yet.”
Henry
rose out of his chair as well. “Of all the absurd, ridiculous things to keep
track of that is most certainly the –”
“Time
is all I have had to keep track of since you left!” she yelled, cutting him off
mid sentence. “There never was any money, not since you ran off with my dowry, you
old goat, and stranded me here next to penniless. The servants left when I
could no longer pay them! You mock my clothes, but this is all I have to wear.
I had to sell my dresses to pay for the staff that is left!”
“Did
you just call me an old goat?” Henry asked in disbelief.
