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<\/figure><\/div>\n\n\nTitle: The Worst Woman in London A defiant Victorian wife fights to escape a bad marriage but her love for a forbidden man jeopardizes her chance at freedom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n James Standish knows how to play society\u2019s game. He\u2019ll follow the rules, marry a virginal debutante, and inherit a massive fortune. At least, that\u2019s the plan until he meets Francesca Thorne. She\u2019s not the sort of woman a respectable gentleman like James could ever marry\u2014not least because, strictly speaking, she\u2019s married already.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Francesca is determined to flout convention and divorce her philandering husband. When James sweet talks his way into her life tasked with convincing her to abandon her dream of freedom, she\u2019s unprepared for the passion that flares between them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Torn apart by conflicting desires, James and Francesca must choose whether to keep chasing the lives they\u2019ve always wanted or take a chance on a new and forbidden love.<\/p>\n\n\n\n EXCERPT<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt\u2019s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Standish.\u201d Miss Heller spoke the commonplace sentiment with just the right degree of eagerness. Any less and she might appear cold. Any more would be vulgar. Julia writes historical romance with passion, intrigue, dark humor and the occasional animal sidekick. A tea-sodden English woman, she\u2019s the only girl in a house of boys and yearns for all things pink and fluffy. If she isn\u2019t writing, she\u2019s probably reading everything she can get her hands on, spending time with her boys or procrastinating on the internet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Website<\/a> | Facebook<\/a> | Instagram<\/a> | Twitter<\/a>
Author: Julia Bennet
Genre: Adult, Historical, Historical Romance
Release Date: February 2, 2023<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/theskywriteshere.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/image.png\")
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James smiled and bowed, but inwardly he groaned. He loathed chitchat and foresaw half an hour\u2019s worth. Still, three more days and his part would end. He\u2019d watch Thorne marry this thoroughly appropriate girl and wave them off on their wedding journey. No doubt their chances of rubbing along happily as man and wife equaled any other couple\u2019s.
The ladies sank gracefully onto a blue damask upholstered settee. Thorne, the poor fool, crammed himself into the elegant Queen Anne near Miss Heller. His back would ache like the devil before he\u2019d drained his first cup. James tried not to look smug as he selected a plush armchair and settled in.
Mrs. Lytton poured tea into a floral-patterned cup. \u201cMilk or lemon, Mr. Standish?\u201d she asked, and added lemon at his behest. He resisted an uncouth urge to graze her hand with his thumb as she passed him a side plate.
Once she\u2019d furnished everyone with tea and scones, the inanities commenced.
First they talked about seating plans. Then they moved on to flower arrangements. By the time they got around to those inconsiderate souls who RSVP\u2019d at the eleventh hour, James had started fantasizing about leaping through a nearby window.
Thorne frowned at him. \u201cYou\u2019re looking a bit green, Standish.\u201d
Mrs. Lytton sighed. \u201cOh, poor Mr. Standish. How tiresome you must find us. Let\u2019s talk of something else.\u201d
\u201cHave you seen the latest Fortnightly Review?\u201d Thorne asked. \u201cEveryone\u2019s talking about this serial they\u2019re printing called The Eustace Diamonds. It\u2019s about an adventuress. I read the first installment, but I don\u2019t understand why it\u2019s so popular. I refuse to believe women like this Lizzie Greystock character exist.\u201d
Mrs. Lytton gave a sage nod. \u201cIt\u2019s extraordinary what passes for amusement these days.\u201d
\u201cWhy would anyone want to read about a heroine like that?\u201d Thorne said, toying with Miss Heller\u2019s fingers.
The need to play devil\u2019s advocate got the better of James. \u201cWhy on earth wouldn\u2019t they? She sounds like fun.\u201d
Thorne glanced at him. \u201cWell, she isn\u2019t ladylike.\u201d
\u201cOh, I see. You\u2019re one of those. When you read Vanity Fair, I bet you preferred Amelia Sedley to Becky Sharp. Tell the truth.\u201d James himself was by no means certain that he\u2019d prefer an adventuress like Becky to dull but virtuous Amelia as a wife, but he knew which sort he\u2019d rather take to bed. His friend, on the other hand, probably didn\u2019t distinguish.
Thorne furrowed his brow. \u201cOf course I preferred Amelia. She is the heroine. Actually, she rather reminds me of Francesca.\u201d
On cue, Miss Heller\u2019s cheeks turned rosy.
Mrs. Lytton set her cup down on a gilt-edged end table. \u201cI don\u2019t have a great deal of leisure for books myself. Of course, one must try to keep up or find oneself quite left out of the conversation. I daresay I wouldn\u2019t bother otherwise. Not like Francesca.\u201d She smiled at her niece. \u201cThough I believe, in her heart of hearts, she prefers history.\u201d
Thorne threw back his head and laughed. \u201cTruly? I assumed she\u2019d prefer novels and such. Don\u2019t tell me I\u2019m marrying a bluestocking.\u201d
\u201cI read novels too,\u201d Miss Heller said. Her smile, when it came, wobbled slightly, as though she didn\u2019t quite mean it.
No one else seemed to notice or, if they noticed, they didn\u2019t attach any importance to that tell-tale tremble, but James had caught a glimpse of something else in her clear, leaf-green eyes. Was it sadness? He felt an unexpected pang of sympathy. Despite her frills and flounces, why shouldn\u2019t she like history best?
\u201cReally, Thorne,\u201d he said. \u201cIt\u2019s hardly a shattering revelation.\u201d
A shrug in response. \u201cNo, of course not.\u201d
James leaned forward, interested for the first time since he\u2019d sat down. Nothing could be duller than an engaged couple billing and cooing like turtledoves, but he wondered if these birds might not be a tad misled as to their suitability for long-term nesting. From what he\u2019d seen so far, they didn\u2019t know the first thing about one another. After a brief acquaintance and a five-week engagement, here they were poised to pledge their lives to each other. Such indecent haste and the bride wasn\u2019t even with child. And if he saw trouble brewing after observing them for all of two seconds, what else might be going on beneath the surface?
Thorne smiled at Miss Heller like a father indulging a little girl. \u201cPerhaps once we\u2019re married, we might read together sometimes.\u201d
A scene sprang to mind. Thorne, in an easy chair, reading aloud from the improving works of Rousseau or Richardson while his wife perfected her embroidery. It was enough to make any right-thinking person nauseous.
Mrs. Lytton took the opposite view. \u201cWhat a charming idea, Mr. Thorne. A husband should act as his wife\u2019s guide if she wishes to educate herself. I think it unseemly, women attending university like men. All those stocky, plain-faced girls one sees at Benslow House.
Pioneers they call them. It makes one shudder.\u201d
James hadn\u2019t given any serious thought to the notion of female education but, as a general rule, he favored anything that shook things up. \u201cOh, I don\u2019t know. Surely one\u2019s wife should know how to converse intelligently on subjects other than hat trimming and the relative merits of plumes versus blooms.\u201d
Miss Heller didn\u2019t say a word. Perhaps she didn\u2019t agree, or perhaps she agreed but was too polite to say so. James found himself eager to know which, but before he could ask,
Mrs. Lytton distracted him.
\u201cMore tea, Mr. Standish?\u201d As she leaned forward to pour, her impressive breasts threatened to spill from her bodice. The square-cut neckline, though not precisely immodest, tested the limits of tasteful afternoon attire. He snapped his attention back to the left where
Miss Heller sat.
Their eyes met.
She didn’t blush and look away. Instead, she regarded him calmly, a faint crease showing in her brow. Was that disapproval? He wanted to laugh, but he kept his face carefully blank. Whatever he did, he must try to make a decent impression on these women for Thorne\u2019s sake. He bit the inside of his cheek, but he couldn\u2019t prevent a slight twitching of his lips.
Miss Heller lifted her eyebrows. Just when he thought she was about to rebuke him, her frown melted away. Her green eyes lit with unexpected humor, and her commonplace prettiness bloomed into beauty. The transformation lasted two seconds at most before she smothered the smile. Clasping her slender white hands in her lap, she stared at them as if they fascinated her.
He might almost believe he\u2019d imagined the whole thing, but then her shoulders began to shake. Heaven help him, she\u2019d caught him ogling Mrs. Lytton\u2019s bosom and she found it funny. His own laughter threatened to burst out, but he pressed his lips together and averted his gaze. If only mirth were not so contagious.
Two things occurred to him at once.
First, Francesca Heller was nothing like Amelia Sedley from Vanity Fair, whatever Thorne said. She might never make a decent adventuress like Becky Sharpe, but she had a ribald sense of humor and the brains to hide it from a fianc\u00e9 who wouldn\u2019t approve. Thorne might seem like a fellow worth the sacrifice, but would she still feel the same in a year? In two? How long could she keep pretending to be other than she was?
Second, James realized he liked her. In fact, he liked her tremendously.
The other two remained oblivious, still deep in discussion about the evils of female education and the women\u2019s movement. Miss Heller composed herself and rejoined the conversation, her expression serene, and that one moment was all it took for him to understand what no one else seemed to grasp; she wouldn\u2019t do at all.
Miss Heller simply wasn\u2019t the right girl for Thorne. James knew by the way she hid her laughter, by her sadness when Thorne patronized her, and by a dozen other insignificant details. If the ceremony went ahead in three days, it might prove the worst mistake of her life.
If it were any other man, the two might marry, realize their mistake, and make the best of things, but Thorne was a romantic and he\u2019d rhapsodized at length on Miss Heller\u2019s delicacy, her girlish ignorance, and sweet compliance. When he realized she wasn\u2019t the girl of his dreams, his spirits wouldn\u2019t just plummet, but crash. When people tumbled from their pedestals, as they generally did sooner or later, Thorne didn\u2019t hesitate to cut them out of his life. Even his own father.
The girl didn\u2019t understand, not consciously, and Thorne hadn\u2019t a clue.
Perhaps James ought to say something.
He imagined all the wedding guests bearing down on the capital. Did he really mean to plant doubts in Thorne\u2019s mind at this late date, and all because Miss Heller had laughed at an inappropriate moment? How ludicrous. How impossible. But if he stayed silent, what then?
The sinking in James\u2019s gut revealed the hopelessness of his situation, but he couldn\u2019t ignore his instincts. For Thorne\u2019s sake, he must say what needed to be said, even if it meant destroying their friendship.
But not here and not now.
Following Miss Heller\u2019s excellent example, he pasted his most social smile upon his face and rejoined the conversation.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n
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