Title: Her Perfect Gentleman (Book 3 in sweet Regency series Tales of Little Macclow)
Author: Gail Eastwood
Genre: Sweet (traditional) Regency romance
Book Blurb:
She is the worst thing that could happen to him. He might be the best thing that could happen to her. How will two hearts on such opposite tracks find their way to true love?
(England, April 1814)
The last thing Christopher Haslitt needs or wants is another involvement with a high-ranking lady. He is still trying to repair both his heart and his reputation after last season’s disaster left him branded as a fortune hunter. Five days in Little Macclow for his friend’s wedding should be only a brief delay on his path. But he hasn’t counted on spending it with five unmarried daughters of earls, one of whom has her sights set firmly on him!
Lady Honoria deRaymond finds Mr. Haslitt more attractive and charming than any other gentleman of her acquaintance. What’s more, his perfect manners include overlooking her tendency to be impulsive and not always quite proper. She knows the rules; she just has trouble sticking to them. Marriage to a high-ranking peer, as her family expects for her, will mean a highly visible life of constant pressure to conform and behave properly. Could Mr. Haslitt, a baronet’s son, be her means to escape such a fate? Can she possibly win his heart in just five days? When she returns to London, her one chance to forge a different future may be gone.
Sweet with a little sizzle, the Tales of Little Macclow are linked by a common setting and recurring characters. They follow a shared chronology and, while best read in order, they are complete stand alone romances that will warm your heart.
Little Macclow—a village tucked away and maybe touched by magic…at least the magic of love.
Excerpt:
“You may not be aware that many of those around us have also been forming ideas about friendship between us. Very mistaken ideas, I will add, whether they favor the idea or oppose it.”
“Mistaken? In what way?” She had to ask, although she suspected she already knew the answer. Her heart sank even before he replied.
“In their assumption that our friendship might become a romantic attachment.” The silver of his eyes looked darker now, as if storm clouds gathered there. His hands gripped the chair back so tightly his knuckles were white.
“Would that be so impossible?” She hardly dared to breathe.
He closed his eyes. “Surely you must know that it is.”
The sadness on his face arrowed straight into her heart. Could not such regret be seen as a sign of hope? A sign that she was right to persist? She wanted to shake her head, but she feared if she disagreed he might turn and walk away. She needed to divert the conversation. “Alexander Pope says that ‘hope springs eternal in the human breast.’ And I am the staunchest of optimists. Let me offer an easier matter to discuss: should I make more salve for your scratches? I have been worried about them becoming infected. ”
He looked down at his arms. “No, I think I am healing well enough. Just a few scratches were deep, and they will take longer than the rest.”
She straightened and stepped towards him. “I should check them. It will only take a few moments. We can do it here, right now.”
He scowled. “No, absolutely not. It would be highly improper.”
“Because I am a lady?”
“Yes, of course because you are a lady! And an unmarried one, even worse. I would have to partially disrobe. You should not see a man in his shirt sleeves unless he is your husband!”
“I have already seen you in your shirt sleeves—bloodied ones at that! And I have seen arms before. Must I remind you that I do have a brother?”
“Yes, one who would flay me alive if he were to learn I allowed this to happen.”
“If I see how the scratches are healing I will know if you need to continue with the salve. I am trying to help you. It is for a medical purpose.”
“This is not an emergency. With Jennie on Wednesday, I felt the situation was.”
“This could become one if you do not heal properly.” She crossed her arms, tapping her foot. “Little Macclow is too small to have a doctor, or even an apothecary. We are in the stillroom, a place where medicines are prepared. We are alone here, and no one will see. You needn’t even remove your waistcoat. You are teetering into the brotherhood of the narrow-minded again!”
“No. I am trying to protect your reputation—and mine. If someone should come along and see—especially given what some are already thinking….”
The panic in his eyes hurt her heart. Did he think she was trying to entrap him? “No one will. But if they should, we can simply explain. Everyone here knows you were injured rescuing Jennie. Most know I have been making salve to help you heal.”
If only she had a salve that could heal his heart. “Do not try to pretend that no woman besides your mother has ever seen you in your linen. We both know that isn’t true. Please, take off your coat.”
Of course women besides his mother had seen him in his linen. Beautiful women, willing women, women whose whole intent had been to see him out of his linen. Not respectable, innocent women like Lady Honoria. Not a woman who tempted him against all good sense.
Truly, she had no idea what she was asking of him. Keeping tight control over his reactions to her was difficult enough under the most ordinary of circumstances. How was he supposed to manage it half-dressed and with her undoubtedly touching and inspecting him?
The noises from the kitchen continued unabated, reminding him of just how nearby other people were. Could her wish possibly be accomplished quickly enough to avoid anyone catching them at it?
She still stood there waiting, chin up, arms crossed and toe tapping impatiently. She looked adorable, magnificent, irresistible. “You are making propriety more important than your health, Mr. Haslitt. You will not convince me that such a priority isn’t absurd. What do you think will happen if we break the rules?”
Loss of control. Emergence of baser instincts. Her discovery that he did not always want to be the perfect gentleman. “Oh, the total disintegration of society, of course.” At this moment everything in him argued in favor of such a result. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless. She was far too trusting.
Of course, she laughed. “There you have it. I’m glad you see you are being ridiculous.”
With a sigh, he surrendered. Best just be quick, for every reason. “You may need to assist me to remove my coat. That is a more difficult job than it appears.” Like extracting a tortoise from its shell. He began to shrug out of the shoulders, letting it drop down his upper arms. “If you could pull down one sleeve, please, and then the other.” He turned his back to her.
She did as he asked and gathered the coat in her arms. He turned around in time to catch her stealing a sniff of his scent on it as she deposited the load of light wool on a chair. A wave of heat swept through him, triggered by her sensuous act. Did she like the notes of cinnamon and sandalwood he wore?
At least he was still decently covered by his waistcoat. He held out one arm. “Let us do this as quickly as possible. Unbutton the cuff and you should be able to roll the sleeve up far enough to give you access to the flannel and my scratches.” At least those on his forearms, which were the worst. He was not about to mention he had a few others higher up.
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Author Biography:
Award-winning author Gail Eastwood started writing stories as soon as she learned to string words together on paper, and blames Beatrix Potter and A.A. Milne for making her a devoted Anglophile at a very early age. After detours into journalism and rare books, she finally found her path writing Signet Regencies acclaimed for their emotional depth and innovative plots. Twice nominated for RomanticTimes Magazine’s Career Achievement award, a Golden Leaf winner and twice a Holt Medallion finalist, Gail had to put writing on hold to deal with family health issues for almost 16 years. But now she’s back doing what she loves best and offering readers a new, heart-warming Regency series set in a small village possibly touched by magic (or it is just the power of Love?), Tales of Little Macclow.
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