When
a Rake Falls
By
Sally Orr
Sourcebooks Casablanca
The Rake’s Handbook, Book 2
Historical Regency Romance
April 7, 2015
ISBN: 9781492602149
$7.99 Mass Market Paperback
Welcome!
I’m
Sally Orr, the author of the new historical Regency-era romance, WHEN
A RAKE FALLS. This is book 2 in The Rake’s Handbook series. Thank
you so much to The Accidental Reader for hosting me today. I’m
excited to introduce you to WHEN A RAKE FALLS.
In
order to for you to get to know my hero and heroine, Miss Eve
Mountfloy and Lord Boyce Parker, a little better, I’ve conducted a
mini interview to give you a little taste of WHEN A RAKE FALLS.
Enjoy!
Best
wishes,
Sally
Orr
What
do you think is the most important quality a lady/gentleman should
have?
Boyce:
Gentlemen should have courage, intelligence, sportsmanship, and wit.
Not to mention respect for the King and crown.
Eve:
A warm and loving heart.
If
you could get rid of one of your partner’s
thing, what would you get rid of?
Boyce:
I’d
get rid of her brown wool gown. It’s
serviceable, but very ugly. She should dress like a summer ray of
sun.
Eve:
The yellow-striped waistcoat, it’s
just too vulgar.
Complete
this sentence: I know I had found the love of my life when she/he
______.
Boyce:
Became in danger of losing her life.
Eve:
Stepped aside to let me achieve my dream.
About
the Book
He’s
racing to win back his reputation
Having
hired a balloon to get him to Paris in a daring race, Lord Boyce
Parker is simultaneously exhilarated and unnerved by the wonders and
dangers of flight, and most of all by the beautiful, stubborn,
intelligent lady operating the balloon.
She’s
curious about the science of love
Eve
Mountfloy is in the process of conducting weather experiments when
she finds herself spirited away to France by a notorious rake. She’s
only slightly dismayed—the rake seems to respect her work—but she
is frequently distracted by his windblown physical magnificence and
buoyant spirits.
What
happens when they descend from the clouds?
As
risky as aeronautics may be, once their feet touch the ground, Eve
and Boyce learn the real danger of a very different type of falling…
Praise
for The
Rake’s Handbook:
“Orr
debuts with a charming romp. The witty repartee and naughty innuendos
set the perfect pitch for the entertaining romance. Though there are
serious themes and carefully researched historical details, it’s
the banter and sensuality that are sure to enchant readers.” --RT
Book Reviews, 4 stars
Buy
the Book
The
Rake’s Handbook: Including Field Guide
(Book 1)
When
a Rake Falls
(Book 2)
About
the Author
Sally
Orr
worked for thirty years in medical research, specializing in the
discovery of gene function. After joining an English history message
board, she posted many, many examples of absolute tomfoolery. As a
result, a cyber-friend challenged her to write a novel. Since she is
a hopeless Anglophile, it's not surprising that her first book is a
Regency romance. Sally lives with her husband in San Diego,
surrounded by too many nerdy books and not enough old English cars.
Connect
with Sally Orr
Excerpt
from WHEN A RAKE FALLS
London,
1825
Lord
Boyce Parker felt a sudden urge to sing. The brisk morning air, the
glorious sunshine, and the presence of a hundred or so excited
gentlemen milling around him could only mean a remarkable day ahead.
Boyce knew he’d be mocked if he broke out in song, but sometimes
happiness just bubbled up from somewhere down in your toes and
overwhelmed a fellow. “My candle burns bright—-”
“Goes
without saying you learned to sing by reading a book,” said George
Drexel, one of Boyce’s oldest friends. “Right now I could be in
bed with the lovely Widow Donhurst. Instead, I’m standing here
amongst the rabble of London, far too early for any sane man,
following another one of your bacon--brained schemes.”
Boyce
ignored him and kept his gaze fixed on the balcony of Stainthorpe
House. Yesterday, the Earl of Stainthorpe had placed an advertisement
in all of the newspapers inviting London’s finest bachelors to
gather in Royston Square. Although the details in the advertisement
were few, it hinted fame and five thousand pounds might be gained by
winning one of several “challenges.” As the son of a wealthy
marquess, Boyce had no need for the money, but he longed for a chance
to impress his father. “It’s not my bacon--brained scheme; it’s
the earl’s. Cheer up. You will be the friend of the victorious Lord
Boyce Parker.”
Drexel
turned to glare at the pressing horde of eager young gentlemen behind
them. “You don’t even know what the old man’s challenges are.
They could all be a hum, like a scavenger hunt to find his
great--uncle’s tricorne hat or his aunt’s lost poodle.” Drexel
dressed in somber colors without fancy cravats or fobs, so his words
had the gravity of a humorless man no one would willfully cross. This
morning, his rumpled clothes, dark whiskers, and obvious lack of
sleep—-no doubt due to a long night of amorous adventure—-made
him appear grumpier than normal. “I hardly think the earl’s
tomfool challenges will make you famous.”
“You
don’t sound cheerful.” Boyce grinned at his old school friend.
“I’m confident the earl’s challenges will be significant and my
assured victory will pave the way to restoring my father’s esteem.”
Drexel
spat on the ground. “Chasing your brother’s fame? Richard is a
glorious war hero. I’m sure winning some silly challenge won’t
compete with his elevated consequence.”
“You’re
wrong. When my name is printed in the newspapers, my father will have
to speak of me with the same admiration he gives Richard.”
“I
don’t think winning a challenge will change the marquess’s
opinion of you—-”
“Look.”
Boyce pointed upward.
The
Earl of Stainthorpe stepped to the edge of his balcony overlooking
Royston Square. “My friends, I understand there are no great men
left in England.” Silver wisps of hair escaped the earl’s
old--fashioned queue and blew over his forehead, but he ignored them
as he squarely confronted the men below.
The
audience surged forward and yelled retorts to the earl’s audacious
remark.
Boyce
had arrived an hour early so he would be close enough to hear his
lordship’s every word. But if this hubbub continued, he might not
catch what the earl had to say. He turned to the man yelling behind
him. “I’ll give you a pound, my good fellow, if you can shout
louder.”
The
man smiled and shouted.
“Definitely
not louder, unfortunate loss indeed,” Boyce said. “Now I suggest
you hush and let his lordship speak.”
Standing
two steps behind his master, the earl’s butler vigorously rang a
handbell to gain the attention of the boisterous crowd.
“The
earldom of Stainthorpe owns numerous and diverse holdings,” the
earl bellowed. “Therefore, upon my death, my daughter will be the
richest woman in England.”
The
crowd cheered.
The
earl waited for them to settle down. “What I’m trying to say is,
Lady Sarah Stainthorpe needs a husband. But so far, none of the
Eligibles paraded before her will do. She refuses to marry and claims
all the gentlemen in London are rogues, dandies, or worse. The point
is, she’s a bluestocking and might fall in love with some bloody…a
poet. I tell you, my friends, that Byron fellow has a lot to answer
for.”
As
the youngest son of a marquess, Boyce was considered an Eligible.
Only, Lady Sarah had rejected him, and all the other Eligibles,
seconds after they had presented themselves at Royston House—-an
unfortunate circumstance, since he believed Lady Sarah would make an
excellent wife and a very pretty one too. After a moment of
reflection, he realized every lady of his acquaintance would make a
pretty wife. One or two may have a feature some might call
“unfortunate.” Nevertheless, he always found something pretty in
every female countenance.
“Are
all the gentlemen I see before me rogues or dandies?” the earl
shouted. “Of course not. One or two maybe, and several of you are
shockingly loose in the haft.” His lordship pointed to a young man
wearing a violet greatcoat, hanging by one arm on a streetlight.
“Especially you, sir.”
With
his free hand, the man doffed his top hat.
“Yes,
I mean you,” the earl said. “My condolences to your poor father.”
All
of the Parker men possessed a fine figure, so he knew even a poorly
tailored coat hung well upon his shoulders. The many compliments he
received had gained him a reputation as an expert in masculine
fashion. Therefore, Boyce felt his lordship should show more sympathy
to a man wearing a lamentable violet greatcoat, since the earl wore
an old square coat and baggy breeches.
“Where
was I?” The earl paused to scan the crowd. “Besides an obvious
bone--breaker or two, you gentlemen are the embodiment of the
character traits that make Englishmen the greatest people on earth.
So I am challenging you—-the finest Englishmen alive—-to a race.
A race to Paris!”
The
crowd cheered.
“This
is not a race where the winner arrives first,” the earl said. “No,
it is a test to discover the gentlemen who possess England’s
greatest traits.”
“Gin
drinking, gov?” someone shouted.
The
crowd laughed and called out a few additional “traits.”
The
earl ignored their comments. “And I mean English
character traits—-not British. That country was some tomfoolery
created by meddlesome politicians. This is a race for Englishmen
only. Now, my race will have five challenges and five winners. Each
winner will win a prize of a gold cup and five thousand pounds.”
The
mob erupted in huzzahs; top hats flew into the air.
Under
his sky--blue waistcoat, Boyce’s heartbeat escalated. This race
presented him with his best opportunity to distinguish himself. He
would win at least two of the earl’s challenges and earn a
reputation as a prime example of English manhood. “Huzzah!” He
too threw his beaver hat in the air.
The
butler rang the handbell for a full minute before the crowd settled
down.
The
earl held up his hands. “Here are the details of the five—-count
them—-five challenges. You have one month to reach Stainthorpe
House in Paris. Each gentleman will write about his journey and
provide the name of a witness. The man whose travels provide the best
example of an English trait wins a challenge. Once the winners
promise to spend the remainder of the summer in our company, they
will be rewarded with a gold cup and five thousand pounds. With such
excellent examples of true English manhood escorting Lady Sarah
around Paris, she must certainly fall in love with one of you
unlicked cubs.”
The
assembled men danced in circles. Each one of them was probably
dreaming about how he would spend his winnings.
Eager
to hear the details, Boyce frowned at the clamorous riffraff behind
him. The earl was right; they all appeared to be a lot of
rag--mannered coves, so he gained complete confidence that he could
best any of their English traits—-whatever those traits may be.
Once he reached Paris, Lady Sarah would discover he was the finest of
fellows and they would fall in love. Women seemed naturally to favor
him over other gentlemen—-wonderful creatures, women.
The
earl’s voice boomed across the square. “What are the character
traits that make Englishmen so great, you ask?”
The
young men below the balcony tendered several improper suggestions.
“No.”
The earl waved his hand. “Not physical features. Traits like
courage and intelligence. So the challenges are thus: The first gold
cup will be given to the gentleman who represents English courage. We
are the country of Nelson, so bravery and courage course through
every one of our veins.”
Someone
shouted the nature of what was coursing through his veins.
The
earl continued without hesitation. “The second gold cup will be
given to the gentleman whose journey represents classic English
sportsmanship. Any Englishman alive can out hunt, out fish, and out
ride all other races of men. So to win the second cup, some
outstanding feat of sportsmanship will rule the day. Extra
consideration will be given to the best example of a journey
completed under difficult circumstances.”
Boyce
huffed. “Well, his lordship is wrong. The true nature of English
sportsmanship is not victory over adversity, but our support for the
dark horse and sense of fair play. We are, by nature, a generous
people.”
Drexel
slapped him on the back. “For once I agree with you. But
considering your history in the field, I suggest you don’t try for
the sportsmanship cup.”
“Sportsmanship
can be demonstrated by means other than fishing or shooting every
magnificent creature—-for example, by boxing or gaming. I practice
my pugilistic skills at Jackson’s twice a week now. You cannot tell
me his place is not full of sportsmen. Or how about when a fellow
loses a fortune gaming at White’s and faces his loss with the grace
and good humor of a gentleman? That’s sportsmanship under pressure,
if you ask me.”
“Yes,
but the earl believes boxing is for professionals and only women play
cards.”
Boyce
widened his eyes. “In my opinion, his lordship’s definition of
sportsmanship
is rather limited.”
The
handbell sounded again before the earl continued his speech. “The
third gold cup will be given to the gentleman whose journey best
exhibits loyalty to the king or service to a lady.”
One
man yelled, “I’d be delighted to service all the ladies on my way
to Paris.”
Others
in the crowd shouted similar generous offers.
“If
you do so, sir,” the earl replied, “you will be shown the door.
Loyalty means old--fashioned manners, being polite, and keeping your
distance from your betters. Of all the challenges, I believe service
to the Crown is the greatest honor any man could desire. And
considering the manners I’ve witnessed here today, I’d say the
challenge of this cup will remain unmet.”
Jeers
filled the air.
Boyce
wondered how a fellow could show loyalty to the king in a race. He
supposed a gentleman might salute the king’s profile on a sovereign
with every step of his journey, but dismissed it as an absurd notion.
No, he’d be better off trying to provide a service to some lady.
His
lordship nodded, and the handbell rang again. “Now quiet down. The
fourth cup will be given to the man whose journey provides the best
example of our English intelligence. We are the land of Newton and
Davy, so the greatest brains of civilization are English. Except for
that da Vinci fellow and one or two Greeks, but we can afford to be
generous and let the rest of the world have a little luck now and
then.”
Boyce
elbowed his friend. “Yes, yes, that’s the cup for me. Bet I’ll
win too. What do you say, fifty?”
“Agreed,”
Drexel said. “I will also wager by the end of this whole flummery,
Lady Sarah will reject all the winners out of spite. I would, if I
were her.”
Boyce
refused to believe Lady Sarah would object to any of the winners,
once she knew them well. The lady wanted to be married, didn’t she?
“No, no, young women are full of tender affection. I have never met
one who did not want to fall in love and make her family happy.”
Drexel
rolled his eyes. “I suspect that is because there are so many
unmarried ladies dangling after you, you cannot imagine one refusing.
And from the stories I heard yesterday, I’ll wager that if I throw
a pebble into the crowd at the next assembly, it will hit a widow who
has, or wants to be, in your bed. And believe me, those ladies are
not expecting marriage.”
“You’re
being vulgar in public,” Boyce said. “All of the widows I have
ever…met were delightful. Deep in their hearts, they want to be
married again, I’m sure.”
“So
why haven’t you married one of these delightful ladies?”
“Never
understood how fellows choose one to fall in love with.”
“If
I know the marquess, the best way to impress him is to give him
grandchildren. My father becomes unhinged with even the thought of
grandchildren.”
“Grandchildren?
Grandchildren are far in the future. A great public achievement is my
best and only chance to regain my father’s respect. You’ll see.
When I am crowned the victor of more than one challenge, my
achievements will be the toast of London. Then all of England will
think of me differently. I will no longer be just one of the seven
anonymous brothers of the war hero Richard. Worse yet, if people do
recognize me, they remember I’m the Parker son who published a
scandalous book and then received the cut direct from his father—-his
own father. After my victory in the challenges, everyone will have to
refer to me as the intelligent, courageous Lord Boyce.
Don’t you understand?”
Drexel
winked at his friend. “Tell me, which of the great English traits
do you represent best? Sounds like only Service to a Lady, and
believe me, your service is the wrong type as far as the earl is
concerned.”
“Ah,
that’s my secret. But you will be a witness to my victory, won’t
you?”
After
pulling off his hat, Drexel took a full minute to smooth the beaver
nap on the brim. “I’ll consider it.” A wide smirk broke across
his dark, handsome face. “You’ve persuaded me to join the race
too.”
“No!”
The
handbell clanged, and everyone faced the balcony again. “Gentlemen,
there is one last challenge, the fifth cup. Since this was my
daughter’s idea, perhaps in jest, you never know with females, let
us call it the Lady’s Favorite.”
Shouts
and laughter rose from the rabble.
The
earl leaned forward over the mob. “Perhaps there are no gentlemen
in England, and my daughter is right?” His lordship waited until
the crowd quieted. “Lady Sarah has a funny notion that the greatest
achievements of the English race are their sense of humor, wit, and
eccentricities. I mean, now really, she is fond of Sheridan’s
plays.” The earl held up his right hand to quiet the laughing
crowd. “For this cup, Lady Sarah will be the final judge.”
The
mob tendered several humorous jests of questionable wit.
The
earl coughed several times but remained unmoving. “So there you
have it. The five greatest English traits are courage, sportsmanship,
intelligence, wit, and service to a lady. Now to business. I expect
all who plan to take up the challenges to gather in our vestibule
below. There, we will compile a list of the participants. You do not
have to choose which cup you aspire to, and you may switch to another
challenge at the end of your journey. Finally, you may win more than
one challenge. Oh, and you must provide an acceptable witness. Anyone
who observes your achievement and can testify on your behalf may be
an official witness. The only exclusions are people who cannot be
trusted, like paid companions or dear old mums.”
Several
groans were heard, and one person clapped.
The
earl nodded in the direction of the man who clapped. “Good man. The
race will officially start after I stop speaking and will end a month
from now on the second of July. On that day, you will present your
written story describing your journey to Stainthorpe House at Rue de
la Chaussée-d’Antin. There, I will choose the five best stories
for each challenge, and those finalists will be asked to recite their
adventures aloud. Indeed, everyone here today will be invited to
attend this party and hear my pick of the winners. Lastly, the five
thousand pounds and gold cups will be presented at the end of the
evening. It goes without saying that the victors will be
appropriately recognized in all of the newspapers.”
Boyce
elbowed Drexel. “Yes, yes, my father reads every paper.”
The
crowd’s cheers erupted again after the mention of the winnings.
The
earl held his arms out. “I tell you, my friends, I’m excited
about this race. To help defray the cost of your journey, any man who
takes up our challenges will receive a hundred pounds after reaching
Paris.”
Shouts
and applause echoed around the square.
“Gentlemen,
gentlemen, Lady Sarah and I look forward to hearing the adventures of
England’s finest men. I am positive that once my daughter is
acquainted with you fine fellows, she will fall in love. With such
excellent examples of the greatness inherent in the English, how
could she not? We also anticipate the pleasure of your company during
our summer in Paris. The only other thing I can say is…” The earl
lifted his quizzing glass to his eye and scanned the crowd. “Ready,
steady, go!”
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