About the book:
England 1812 Severely injured at the battle of Salamanca, Edward Thurston, the new Earl of Sinclair, returns home to his beloved Fly Hall. Determined not to present his prospective bride with the wreck he believes himself to have become, he decides to end his betrothal, unaware that Lady Jennifer, for vastly differing reasons, has reached the selfsame decision. Throughout the campaigns, Edward was often seen relying greatly on a miniature he carried, and it is to this token he clings upon his return. Will he eventually find happiness with the girl in the portrait, or will he remain firm in his resolve not to wed? Reason dictates one course, his heart another.
Book Excerpt:
It was a bittersweet homecoming. The journey had left him unbelievably weary but the mere sight of the house, seen from its parkland approach, gave him a peace of mind he had not experienced for some while. He wished nothing more than to be within its familiar, welcoming portals.
His wounds still plagued him, and at times, he swore he could still feel the fingers of his left hand moving. Alas, he’d heard of other like cases amongst his fellow wounded and knew this to be nothing more than the effects of the amputation, which would disappear with time. He’d been assured that the angry scarring to his body, where the cannon ball had torn his flesh, would fade. Even now, the slight paling of the scar across his left cheek, gave evidence of this.
The eyes remained the same, bright and alive, only the humor once seen there having waned. Stubble sprang from his cheeks and chin and his dark hair curled at the nape of his neck, proving him in need of a barber’s services. He’d lain abed in a convent on the Portuguese border along with others wounded in the encounter and such niceties had, by necessity, been overlooked.
As the coach rounded the final bend in the driveway and the house came fully into view, he reached into his greatcoat pocket and took out an elegantly framed miniature of a young lady with smiling eyes and dark curls.
“You see, my love, we finally arrive,” he said in hushed tones, before carefully replacing it. He had carried the miniature with him throughout the campaign, and it was only the sight of her face, during his delirium, that had prevented his senses from deserting him. In the convent, his reliance on the portrait had been noted, but wisely none had commented, so fiercely did he protect it.
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About the author:
Hazel Statham lives in England and has been writing on and off since she was
fifteen. Initially she was influenced by Austen, the Brontes, and Sabatini but
when Hazel turned seventeen, Georgette Heyer opened up the romance and elegance
of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. She immediately knew she had found
her eras and wanted nothing more than to re-create them in her work. Hazel lives
with her husband, Terry, and a beautiful Labrador named Mollie.
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Thanks so much for posting! It looks great! 😀