Duke du Jour
By Petie McCarty
She’s waiting in the past . . . He belongs in the future.
Jared Langley, present-day Duke of Reston, tumbles into an abandoned fountain on his ducal estate and is pelted back in time to the year 1816. There, Reston servants and local villagers think him a dead ringer for his namesake and rakehell ancestor—the seventh Duke of Reston, gone missing at the Battle of Waterloo. Unfortunately, Seven got mixed up with French spies out to assassinate the Duke of Wellington, and an unwary Jared ends up in their crosshairs.
Lady Ariana Hart has loved Jared Langley, the seventh Duke of Reston, since she was twelve years old, until the night the rogue broke her heart. Given up for dead, her rakish neighbor makes a miraculous return from Waterloo. Only Jared shows up a changed man and reignites all the feelings Ariana had long ago buried.
Jared is in a race against time.
His tasks?
Waylay the suspicions of his quirky servants and neighbors
Get to Wellington before the French spies do
Fix his fountain–before Seven shows up–so Jared has a way home
And definitely do not fall in love with the irresistible Lady Ariana . . .
Second Edition
Pages: 422
EXCERPT
Jared winced when the not-doctor swiped two fingers over the lump. “How long will my memory lapse?” he asked, for good measure.
“No more than a week or two,” Dr. Padwick proclaimed confidently.
Pompous ass. The quack had no idea. Small wonder anyone survived in this century.
A young boy, about twelve or thirteen years old, suddenly burst into the room. “She’s coming up the lane!” he exclaimed.
The present occupants all stared. The poor boy shifted from one foot to the other. “She’s coming,” he repeated and gave Curricle Man a pointed look that was obviously supposed to mean something.
Jared glanced at Curricle Man, and then he raised his brows at Heddy.
“That is Bullen,” she said.
Curricle Man gaped. “You didn’t know me?”
“Not your name until this moment, no.”
“Memory loss,” Padwick added peremptorily.
“Oh,” Bullen said, making the word into several phonetic syllables.
Jared suppressed yet another eye roll. He would make his head ache worse if he did not cease. “And who is coming?”
Bullen’s eyes almost bugged out of his head. “Lady Ariana,” he wheezed, like someone was choking him.
Jared’s gaze shot to Heddy, and Bullen clapped a palm to his forehead.
“Lady Ariana Hart, the Earl of Wakefield’s daughter,” she said primly and added, “Yer playmate as a child though ye were a might older.”
Bullen groaned. “It is too late to run now. She’s probably pulled up to the steps already.”
Jared threw his legs over the side of the bed. “Surely, you did not expect me to run.”
Heddy leaned in and whispered, “I’m Heddy. Shirley’s the upstairs maid.”
Jared blinked at her, considered explaining his adverb use, and thought better of it.
“Remember, I told ye?” Heddy repeated slowly.
“Right. So, why would I run?”
Bullen and Heddy exchanged glances, and both gave a minuscule nod toward Padwick, who watched the exchange with interest.
Jared caught on. “If you are through, Dr. Padwick, you may go. I will send word if I further require your services,” he said dismissively.
The doctor gave one imperious sniff, snatched up his black bag of medicinal anomalies, and stalked for the door.
The moment the door shut behind him, Jared turned to Bullen. “Now, why would I not want to see Lady Ariana if she was my childhood playmate?”
Bullen swallowed hard and shot a worried glance at Heddy.
“Do not look at her. Answer me.”
“Well,” Bullen said slowly, keeping his eyes on the counterpane on Jared’s bed, “because of the way you had gotten to be those last couple of years before you left for the continent.”
Jared narrowed his gaze. “And how is that?”
Bullen swallowed hard a second time. “You know . . . dissolute.”
Jared stared in shock. Mostly because Bullen knew the word. Nineteenth-century servants were not all that well educated. He also felt insulted, though common sense told him no, since he wasn’t really the seventh Duke of Reston. He thought of the smirk on Seven’s face in Jared’s portrait gallery.
“Terribly dissolute?”
Bullen blinked. “Pretty much.”
“Ye’re a rake and a drunk,” Heddy added helpfully.
He glowered at her.
“Well, ye are. Gossip is ye’ve slept wi’ half the married ladies in London and all the widows. Not yer fault though. Ye’ve a face like an angel,” she offered indulgently, “so the ladies flock to ye.”
Bullen nodded. “You’re a looker, and you know it.” The man finally made eye contact and looked sad about his divulgence.
Bloody hell. I am an arrogant, lecherous drunk, and I have only just arrived.
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EXCERPT
Jared winced when the not-doctor swiped two fingers over the lump. “How long will my memory lapse?” he asked, for good measure.
“No more than a week or two,” Dr. Padwick proclaimed confidently.
Pompous ass. The quack had no idea. Small wonder anyone survived in this century.
A young boy, about twelve or thirteen years old, suddenly burst into the room. “She’s coming up the lane!” he exclaimed.
The present occupants all stared. The poor boy shifted from one foot to the other. “She’s coming,” he repeated and gave Curricle Man a pointed look that was obviously supposed to mean something.
Jared glanced at Curricle Man, and then he raised his brows at Heddy.
“That is Bullen,” she said.
Curricle Man gaped. “You didn’t know me?”
“Not your name until this moment, no.”
“Memory loss,” Padwick added peremptorily.
“Oh,” Bullen said, making the word into several phonetic syllables.
Jared suppressed yet another eye roll. He would make his head ache worse if he did not cease. “And who is coming?”
Bullen’s eyes almost bugged out of his head. “Lady Ariana,” he wheezed, like someone was choking him.
Jared’s gaze shot to Heddy, and Bullen clapped a palm to his forehead.
“Lady Ariana Hart, the Earl of Wakefield’s daughter,” she said primly and added, “Yer playmate as a child though ye were a might older.”
Bullen groaned. “It is too late to run now. She’s probably pulled up to the steps already.”
Jared threw his legs over the side of the bed. “Surely, you did not expect me to run.”
Heddy leaned in and whispered, “I’m Heddy. Shirley’s the upstairs maid.”
Jared blinked at her, considered explaining his adverb use, and thought better of it.
“Remember, I told ye?” Heddy repeated slowly.
“Right. So, why would I run?”
Bullen and Heddy exchanged glances, and both gave a minuscule nod toward Padwick, who watched the exchange with interest.
Jared caught on. “If you are through, Dr. Padwick, you may go. I will send word if I further require your services,” he said dismissively.
The doctor gave one imperious sniff, snatched up his black bag of medicinal anomalies, and stalked for the door.
The moment the door shut behind him, Jared turned to Bullen. “Now, why would I not want to see Lady Ariana if she was my childhood playmate?”
Bullen swallowed hard and shot a worried glance at Heddy.
“Do not look at her. Answer me.”
“Well,” Bullen said slowly, keeping his eyes on the counterpane on Jared’s bed, “because of the way you had gotten to be those last couple of years before you left for the continent.”
Jared narrowed his gaze. “And how is that?”
Bullen swallowed hard a second time. “You know . . . dissolute.”
Jared stared in shock. Mostly because Bullen knew the word. Nineteenth-century servants were not all that well educated. He also felt insulted, though common sense told him no, since he wasn’t really the seventh Duke of Reston. He thought of the smirk on Seven’s face in Jared’s portrait gallery.
“Terribly dissolute?”
Bullen blinked. “Pretty much.”
“Ye’re a rake and a drunk,” Heddy added helpfully.
He glowered at her.
“Well, ye are. Gossip is ye’ve slept wi’ half the married ladies in London and all the widows. Not yer fault though. Ye’ve a face like an angel,” she offered indulgently, “so the ladies flock to ye.”
Bullen nodded. “You’re a looker, and you know it.” The man finally made eye contact and looked sad about his divulgence.
Bloody hell. I am an arrogant, lecherous drunk, and I have only just arrived.
Petie spent a large part of her career working at Walt Disney World—"The Most Magical Place on Earth"—where she enjoyed working in the land of fairy tales by day and creating her own romantic fairy tales by night, including her new series, The Cinderella Romances. She eventually said goodbye to her "day" job to write her stories full-time.
These days, Petie spends her time writing new tales for her Cinderella series, her new The Watchers series, sequels to her Regency time-travel series, Lords in Time, and more contemporary romance standalones, along with her two previous releases—Any Fin For Love and Ambush in the Everglades.
Petie shares her home on the Cumberland Plateau in Tennessee with her horticulturist husband and an opinionated Nanday conure named Sassy who makes a cameo appearance in Christmas Watch, Book 2 of The Watchers series.
Visit Petie at her website, www.petiemccarty.com, to get to know her, learn about her current projects, and discover her other published works.
Thank you for featuring DUKE DU JOUR today.
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