Author Rachael Anderson’s newest Regency Romance is now available. I just finished reading this today and will be posting my review soon. But don’t wait to see what I think, hurry and read this delighful story now!
My Brother's Bride
Series: Serendipity #2
Published by HEA Publishing
Publication Date November 24, 2018
Genres: Historical Fiction, Clean Romance
Setting: England Regency Era – UK – 1795 – 1837
Miss Abigail Nash is no stranger to loneliness. Her mother died giving birth to her, her father's business dealings took him away more often than not, and her ailing great-aunt, unable to provide much in the way of companionship, was a lack-luster guardian at best. When her dear friends offer to launch her into London society, her life takes a turn for the better. An instant success, with suitors, social engagements, and offers aplenty, it seems Abby will at last settle into the life of her dreams.
But appearances aren't always what they seem, and dreams often become disappointments.
Just months into her marriage with a proclaimed darling of the ton, Abby finds herself widowed, penniless, and increasing. Even more precarious are the feelings she’s developing for a man she shouldn’t love, a man the law prohibits her from marrying—her late husband’s brother, the Marquess of Brigston.
I received a complimentary copy of this book. This gift did not influence my opinion or review.
Also in this series: My Sister's Intended, My Brother's Bride
When Brigston entered the kitchen, Abby’s back was partially to him, so she didn’t immediately see him. Her brow was furrowed in concentration as she whipped something in a bowl. She paused to lift the spoon, only to frown at the white liquid dripping from it.
“Are you certain this will thicken into a cream?” she asked.
A flash of irritation crossed Monsieur Roch’s face until he spotted Morgan and seemed to think better of it. He managed a patient tone in his accented French. “It takes time, my lady.”
Morgan stifled a chuckle as Abby examined another spoonful of the liquid. “I’ve been whipping it for several minutes, but it doesn’t seem even a little thicker to me. Have I forgotten to add something?”
“No,” said the cook in clipped tones.
Morgan stepped forward and leaned in close. “If your arm is tired—”
Abby jumped, and what liquid remained on the spoon splattered across Morgan’s face. She spun around, her eyes growing wide with horror when she saw what she’d done.
He wiped a dab from his nose and tasted it. “A little more sugar, perhaps?”
“Brigston! I’m so dreadfully sorry.” She dropped the spoon into the bowl and grabbed a rag from a nearby wash basin, dabbing it across his face.
“Not that rag!” cried the cook. “It was only just used to mop the floors.”
Abby dropped it as though it had burned her, and Morgan tried not to cringe at the thought of filthy water coating his face.
Monsieur Roch retrieved a clean rag and held it out to him, appearing apologetic. He flicked another irritated glance at Abby before returning to his work.
As Morgan wiped the cream from his face, he wondered what Abby would do or say next. Offer another fumbled apology? Make her excuses and flee? Pretend the incident never happened and return to her labors? He never knew what to expect from her.
Her face scarlet, she cleared her throat and lifted her adorably determined chin. “You are most welcome, my lord.”
He raised a brow. “For what, my lady?”
“I have heard that cream does wonders for one’s complexion, and it seems the rumors are correct. Your skin appears much . . . creamier.”
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