The Champion - Archer, Kate

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Résumé :
A Courageous Lady and a Confounded Lord Six highly placed matrons mourn their lack of daughters until they devise a scheme to launch eligible girls in need of assistance, and so The Society of Sponsoring Ladies is born. Lady Arabella Berestock has lived in the ramshackle Cornwall house for as long as she can remember. She is the ward of Lord Skeffington, who does not do much to provide, nor does she tolerate him. If there is any comfort to be had, it is the companionship of Mrs. Weston. That good lady has allowed Arabella to pursue her passion for rescuing animals and the house has become a menagerie. Out of the blue, a cousin, Lady Redfield, has stepped forward and will bring her to Town for a proper season. Lord Peregrine Hadleigh, Marquess of Blackwood and heir to the Duke of Stanbury has found his life going rather well. He's finally got his own house in Town and he's put his mother off talk of marriage with the idea that he waits for an old family friend to make her debut, which he certainly does not. His house happens to be next door to Lady Redfield, one of his mother's cabal of matrons. That may not be ideal but out of all of them, she is the least likely to cause problems. At least, he had imagined so before he and his coachman are delivered a bracing lecture regarding the treatment of his horses from a pert little miss just now staying with the lady. Lady Arabella has a lot of opinions, but she is rather pretty. As the season unfolds, so too does her guardian's plot to force Arabella to marry a mysterious old man and threats of sending her back to Cornwall. As those difficulties present themselves, two neighboring butlers confound their houses, a squirrel makes an unfortunate appearance, a Welch Main is set to commence, a beast of a dog misbehaves, a secret society is founded, and a beloved horse must be got back. If Arabella is to fix anything at all, she may have to use a weapon she has kept secret for years. A Series of Worthy Young Ladies The Meddler The Sprinter The Undaunted The Champion The Jilter The Royal

Biographie:
By the time I was eleven, my Irish Nana and I had formed a book club of sorts. On a timetable only known to herself, Nana would grab her blackthorn walking stick and steam down to the local Woolworth's. There, she would buy the latest Barbara Cartland romance, hurry home to read it accompanied by viciously strong wine, (Wild Irish Rose, if you're wondering) and then pass the book on to me. Though I was not particularly interested in real boys yet, I was very interested in the gentlemen in those stories-daring, bold, and often enraging and unaccountable. After my Barbara Cartland phase, I went on to Georgette Heyer, Jane Austen and so many other gifted authors blessed with the ability to bring the Georgian and Regency eras to life.I would like nothing more than to time travel back to the Regency (and time travel back to my twenties as long as we're going somewhere) to take my chances at a ball. Who would take the first? Who would escort me into supper? What sort of meaningful looks would be exchanged? I would hope, having made the trip, to encounter a gentleman who would give me a very hard time. He ought to be vexatious in the extreme, and worth every vexation, to make the journey worthwhile.I most likely won't be able to work out the time travel gambit, so I will content myself with writing stories of adventure and romance in my beloved time period. There are lives to be created, marvelous gowns to wear, jewels to don, instant attractions that inevitably come with a difficulty, and hearts to break before putting them back together again. In traditional Regency fashion, my stories are clean-the action happens in a drawing room, rather than a bedroom.As I muse over what will happen next to my H and h, and wish I were there with them, I will occasionally remind myself that it's also nice to have a microwave, Netflix, cheese popcorn, and steaming hot showers.

Sommaire:
By the time I was eleven, my Irish Nana and I had formed a book club of sorts. On a timetable only known to herself, Nana would grab her blackthorn walking stick and steam down to the local Woolworth's. There, she would buy the latest Barbara Cartland romance, hurry home to read it accompanied by viciously strong wine, (Wild Irish Rose, if you're wondering) and then pass the book on to me. Though I was not particularly interested in real boys yet, I was very interested in the gentlemen in those stories-daring, bold, and often enraging and unaccountable. After my Barbara Cartland phase, I went on to Georgette Heyer, Jane Austen and so many other gifted authors blessed with the ability to bring the Georgian and Regency eras to life.I would like nothing more than to time travel back to the Regency (and time travel back to my twenties as long as we're going somewhere) to take my chances at a ball. Who would take the first? Who would escort me into supper? What sort of meaningful looks would be exchanged? I would hope, having made the trip, to encounter a gentleman who would give me a very hard time. He ought to be vexatious in the extreme, and worth every vexation, to make the journey worthwhile.I most likely won't be able to work out the time travel gambit, so I will content myself with writing stories of adventure and romance in my beloved time period. There are lives to be created, marvelous gowns to wear, jewels to don, instant attractions that inevitably come with a difficulty, and hearts to break before putting them back together again. In traditional Regency fashion, the action happens in a drawing room, rather than a bedroom.As I muse over what will happen next to my H and h, and wish I were there with them, I will occasionally remind myself that it's also nice to have a microwave, Netflix, cheese popcorn, and steaming hot showers....