Gentle Reader,
It has come to our attention, that the eligible Earl of Beechingstoke, who avoids unmarried ladies as much as he avoids scandals, has been seen courting both. According to our confidential sources, Lord Beechingstoke has asked his dear cousin, the indomitable Countess of Redwick, to aid him in finding a wife.
We have heard of the existence of a list of eligible ladies, one of whom could bear the coveted name Countess of Beechingstoke. And who, do you ask, are the ladies on this list? That, dear reader, is something even we cannot discover.
Not all is lost, as we believe we have a lead on the next Countess of Beechingstoke. Of late, we have seen his lordship thrice engaged in conversation and in the company of Miss Stella Denton, the daughter of Viscount Lynd.
If you do not recognize the name, fear not gentle readers, as I suspect it will soon be one known to all. From our information, she is a dear friend of Lady Redwick with artistic talent.
Indeed, the lady was seen engaged in a heated debate with the earl at Lady W’s art exhibition. She was later seen with the earl in his carriage in Hyde Park during the fashionable hour. Dare we suggest Lord Beechingstoke has found his match?
Only time will tell.
About the Book, Caricature of a Countess
He’s drawn to her. She’s drawing him.
Miss Stella Denton is determined to make her mark on the world—in pen and ink. Under the pseudonym Mr. E. Starr, she captures the absurdities of the ton in print for all to see. A heated encounter with Daniel, the Earl of Beechingstoke leaves her breathless… and betrothed.
After years of working to reestablish the Beechingstoke name, Daniel cannot abide even a hint of scandal. To cut off his notorious heir, Daniel enlists the help of friends and family to find him the perfect bride and fast. When they suggest he marry Stella, he doesn’t know if it’s the worst idea, or the best.
A hasty marriage, fueled by passion, burns bright between Stella and Daniel. Yet their love is at risk of fizzling out unless they learn to trust one another before their secrets and scandals are revealed.
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About the Author
Melissa Sawyer has been writing stories since she could form letters. She writes swoon-worthy Regency romances with strong heroines. She resides in Toronto, Canada with her three kids and husband where you can find her exploring the city, parks, libraries, museums and PATH network.
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Excerpt from Chapter 1
The contents of the drawer shifted and clattered as Stella yanked at it with such force she nearly pulled it off of its rail. She rummaged through its contents, pulling out a penknife, ponte-crayons, and pencils.
She sat on a stool at the mahogany drawing board, a large masculine desk that looked out of place in her otherwise feminine room. Stella adjusted the angle of the writing surface, running her hand across the smooth leather, removing anything that would mar the paper she laid atop the desk. She set her materials to her right on the ledge that extended from the right drawer.
A sharpened pencil in hand, Stella sketched several shapes. Slowly, the light lines of ovals, circles, and triangles altered, changing from shapes to a forehead, eyes, and lips. Strong masculine features escaped her pencil, settling themselves on to the page.
With a huff of air, Stella set the sheet aside and drew out a fresh one, the previous form being too elegant. It wasn’t the man himself she sought to capture, but his character.
Her next attempt was better. A lip twisted into a supercilious sneer below an exaggerated nose. The rest of the man was too strong, too handsome, too…
“Drat!”
Her pencil danced across the work surface before rolling to a stop beside an inkwell. Stella sat back on the stool and crossed her arms, surveying the drawing with a critical eye.
A sardonic Lord Beechingstoke smirked back at her.
“He must have made quite the impression on you.”
Stella jumped, her hand clutching her chest. She took a deep breath to steady her racing pulse. “Must you sneak up on a person, Laurette?”
“It’s not sneaking when one is expected.” The door hinges of the clothes press creaked as Laurette, her maid, opened the door. “Are you wearing your pink or your green dress to dinner?”
A quick glance at the clock had Stella scrambling to tidy her desk. She’d been drawing longer than expected.
“I’ll wear the green.” Stella surveyed her pencil-smudged hands with a frown. She crossed the room to the pitcher and basin of water. The scent of lavender and roses teased her senses as she worked up a lather to remove all traces of her activities.
“Who is he?”
“The Earl of Beechingstoke.” Stella immersed her hands in the water and closed her eyes. If only she could wash away her encounter with him the same way. “He’s someone worth drawing.”