Coming Soon
Book Seven in The Rake Review series, A Scandal in July by Kate Bateman
A Summer To Remember . . . .
Rhys Davies meets his match in adventurous hellion Lenore Montgomery.
Extract from the epilogue of A Wicked Game: One month before the events of A Scandal In July…
Rhys, the last unmarried Davies brother, looked exceptionally relieved to be the last man standing. Aunt Prudence, however, managed to ruin his mood. She cornered him as he sidled toward the refreshments table.
“I don’t know why you’re looking so happy, young man.”
Rhys frowned, a sandwich from the wedding breakfast suspended halfway to his mouth. “It’s a wedding. Aren’t I supposed to be happy?”
Aunt Pru sent him a smug look. “I expect you’re thinking you’re the lucky one. That you’ve been spared the terrible fate of falling for a Montgomery.”
“And so I have,” Morgan said with a grin. “My siblings have very kindly married all the available Montgomerys, so there’s no chance of the same thing happening to me.”
Aunt Constance, seated to Pru’s left, gave a witchy little cackle. “Oh, sweet boy. He’s forgotten.”
“Forgotten what?” Rhys said warily. He hadn’t spent much time around these two batty old spinsters, but his brief experience had taught him that they just loved to meddle.
“Why, the other Montgomerys, of course.”
Morgan suddenly found it hard to swallow. A nasty, tingling sensation that felt horribly like premonition made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
“There are more of you?”
Constance nodded and started another row of her knitting. “Well of course there are more. It’s just that we don’t often speak of them.” She sent Pru a laughing, sidelong glance. “Not in polite society, at any rate.”
Rhys’ heart began to pound. He absolutely did not believe in fate, or destiny, or any of that rot, but there was something about this conversation that was making him decidedly uneasy.
“Why don’t you speak about them?” He was intrigued, despite himself.
“Because they’re the wild branch of the family.” Pru chuckled. “I swear, our Lenore could give your Carys a run for her money. And as for the twins—”
Constance shook her head sadly. “Well, the less said about those two hoydens the better.” She sent Rhys a meaningful look that managed to convey both disapproval and reluctant admiration.
He took a deep swig of his champagne. “How come I’ve never heard of them?”
“Oh, they’re the Wessex branch of the family, but they haven’t been in England for years. Their father Rollo is a famous lepidopterist.”
“Investigates moths and butterflies,” Constance explained.
Pru frowned at her sister for the interruption. “They’ve been gadding about the world with him ever since they were old enough to hold a butterfly net. They were in Brazil last year. And somewhere in Africa before that. But I do believe they’re finally headed for these shores. Cousin Lettuce had a letter only recently.”
Rhys slid a finger inside his cravat and gave it a tug. The room was decidedly warm. “Well, I’m sure I’ll make their acquaintance if they ever decide to re-enter polite society.”
Pru’s beatific smile was disconcerting, to say the least. “Oh yes, dear. I’m sure you will.”