Cut from the Same Cloth: A Humorous Traditional Regency Romance (My Notorious Aunt Book 3)

by Kathleen Baldwin

  Izzie whipped to attention like a beagle catching a scent. “What are you saying?”

  Valen attempted to shrug, disregarding his bandaged shoulder. “Merely that your brother must challenge me.”

  Robert stopped testing the rapier. “Must I?”

  “Afraid so. No choice in the matter.”

  Elizabeth’s voice went up an octave. “On what grounds?”

  He looked squarely at Robert. “I compromised her.”

  Izzie’s mouth fell open and then snapped shut. “You did not.” She turned to her brother and clutched his arm. “It isn’t true, Robert. He didn’t.”

  Robert patted her hand patiently. “I would think he would know, my dear.” He glanced over her head at Valen for confirmation. “Did you?”

  “I did, on several occasions, take advantage and kiss her warmly.” He stated the facts as if they were in court.

  Robert’s eyebrows rose. “Warmly?”

  “Warmly.” Valen nodded. “Naturally, I offered for her.”

  “Right.” Robert’s posture relaxed. “Well, then, the matter is settled.”

  “No.” Valen pursed his lips. “Unfortunately, she won’t have me.”

  “Izzie? You rejected his suit?” He frowned at his sister.

  She slapped her hands to her side and huffed up her shoulders. “He brought no suit.”

  “I did,” Valen answered evenly. “She said no.”

  “Well, then.” Robert took up his stance and poised his sword. “It must be done.”

  Valen climbed out of bed and took up the other sword.

  Izzie held up both hands, warding off her brother. “Are you mad? This is nonsense. He was wounded protecting me.”

  “Your honor is at stake, Izzie. It’s my duty.” Robert checked his feet and shook the sword to see how much play there was in the blade. “Unless you’ve reconsidered?”

  Hands on hips.

  The marmot is vexed.

  Valen gestured with his blade at her stance. “You see. She won’t have me. Not plump enough in the pocket for her.”

  “This is absurd. He did not compromise me.”

  “I have witnesses. Father?”

  Lord Ransley nodded gravely. “Saw it with my own eyes.”

  “Through a telescope, you mean.” She crossed her arms and sulked in his father’s direction.

  Valen almost broke his concentration and smiled.

  “Robert you can’t—” At last, Izzie was pleading.

  Robert stuck to their plan and ignored her. “Are you ready, St. Evert?

  “Yes. If you will do me the service of wounding the same side. Wouldn’t want both arms out of service, unless, of course, you feel you must take more drastic measures.”

  Robert moved his sword to the ready. “Don’t know. How warm did you get?”

  Izzie stepped between them and held up her hands to each of them. “No! You will stop this at once.”

  “A matter of honor.” Valen nudged her aside with his hand and the guard of his sword. “Stand aside, marmot.”

  “I will not. Robert, listen to me. It was one small kiss. Not nearly warm enough to merit a scratch.”

  Valen let his blade fall to the floor. “You crush me to the core, my lady. Your kisses certainly warmed me.” He raised his sword again. “Heated me to near boiling. Quite warm, I should say.”

  “Izzie!” her brother scolded.

  “Well I...” She had the good grace to blush.

  “And on several occasions,” he added with enthusiasm.

  “Several occasions.” Robert snorted angrily. “If this is true, Izzie, why the devil won’t you marry him?”

  Valen answered for her. “As I said—my lack of funds.”

  “It’s that ridiculous plan of yours, is it?” Robert cradled his sword in his arms and frowned at her. “Still fancying yourself as Joan of Arc out to save the family?” He shook his head. “Would you really do it, Izzie? Choose that milquetoast Horton over St. Evert?”

  Elizabeth looked from Valen to her brother. Both had riveted their attention on her, intently awaiting her answer. Indeed, neither took a breath. And suddenly she comprehended their scheme.

  She whipped to Lord Ransley, astounded. “Were you part of this conspiracy, as well?”

  Lord Ransley coughed and conveniently turned his head.

  She inhaled deeply. “Well, it may interest all of you to know that I came to a decision several days ago.”

  Their collective countenances were a gratifying assortment of shock and amazement.

  The Red Hawk quickly recovered from his disadvantage, his eyes sharp and assessing. “And what, precisely, did you decide?”

  He had no right to know, not after confronting her so meanly and trying to trick her into confessing her love for him.

  Elizabeth stamped her foot and fought to control her emotions, which meant of course elevating her chin. “A simple ‘I love you, Lady Elizabeth, will you marry me?’ would have sealed the bargain.”

  “You can’t mean it!” Valen plopped down on the edge of the bed and pointed to his father. “You heard her.” He turned back to Elizabeth, baffled. “That day, when I explained to my father about how you refused me, you failed to express even the slightest regret—”

  “That?” Elizabeth couldn’t believe her ears. “That was supposed to win a profession of love out of me?”

  “Well.” He hesitated, groping for words. “I was testing the waters. You didn’t seem very receptive to the idea.” He slumped and winced because of it, straightening his back again to relieve the pain.

  Valen got up, set his sword in its case, and took Elizabeth’s shoulders in his hands. “So am I given to understand you’ve had a change of heart?”

  She nodded and smiled at him. “Almost since the moment we left the garden. Indeed, I could not escape my regret through this whole ordeal.”

  He answered with a broad grin and bent to kiss her.

  Robert’s sword came between them. “Here now. I would hate to have to call you out again.”

  Lady Alameda stood in the doorway. “Well, well, so our wily marmot has stopped bearing her claws and making a muddle of it, has she?”

  Elizabeth was too happy to be completely annoyed, but she had to draw the line. “I do wish everyone would stop calling me that. I am convinced there is no such creature. A mythical invention—”

  “Oh dear. What ith happening? Robert, deareth, why do you have your thword drawn?”

  Elizabeth groaned and teetered on the brink of demanding to know what the devil Miss Dunworthy was doing here, when Lady Alameda answered the question.

  “Only look, Valen, dearest, I have brought you some visitors. They were waiting downstairs until you and Robert concluded your business. Naturally, I thought you would be anxious to see Miss Dimworthy and her brother.”

  “Dunworthy,” Elizabeth murmured.

  Lady Alameda tilted her head, as if considering the correction. “Oh yes, so she has. Done quite worthy, I should say.”

  Robert set down his rapier and went to greet the paragon whose noodlelike curls were artfully arranged inside an adorable straw lace capote. “Lord Ransley, Lady Alameda, Lord St. Evert, Elizabeth, allow me to present my betrothed, Miss—

  “Your what?” Elizabeth’s hand went to her mouth to stifle the rest of her outcry.

  Robert beamed proudly. “Miss Susannah Dunworthy has agreed to be my wife.”

  “She hasn’t.” Elizabeth’s hands fell to her side, and if Valen hadn’t guided her to the edge of the bed so she might be seated, she might have collapsed to the floor. Luckily Elizabeth was not the swooning type.

  “She has, indeed.” Robert patted his beloved’s shoulders. “I warned her that I have nothing to offer her. Yet still, she would not say nay.” He and Miss Devious gazed into each other’s eyes, and Elizabeth felt slightly queasy.

  Miss Dunworthy smiled at all of them. “Indeed, my father was in thuch high alt over dear Robert’th devothion to me that he off
ered to pay all of his debts in addithion to my dowry. Dear papa, he thinks only of my happineth.”

  Her brother, young Mr. Dunworthy, didn’t appear quite so convinced of this statement. While assessing the condition of his fingernails, he muttered, “Daresay the promise of a title didn’t influence him at all.”

  Miss Dunworthy ignored her brother and rushed out of Robert’s embrace to take Elizabeth’s hands in her tiny little gloved palms. “Thay you are happy for uth, Lady Elithabeth.” She smiled so hesitantly, as if she sincerely desired Elizabeth’s approval and feared she might not win it, that Elizabeth was on point of opening her arms to the girl. But the little minx added, “I’m thertain we will become the deareth of friends, you and I. We have tho muth in common dethpite our great age differenthe.”

  Lady Alameda clapped her hands together. “Isn’t she adorable.”

  Some less than adorable descriptions rumbled around Elizabeth’s ferocious marmot brain. Haughty rejoinders like; take your tentacles off my brother you spiteful little mushroom, and, we shall be friends when the devil takes up crocheting.

  Fortunately, Valen, who must have read her mind, nudged her sharply in the ribs.

  Elizabeth inhaled deeply and managed a smile. “I wish you both all the happiness in the world.” And for Robert’s sake, she meant every word. Elizabeth glanced at her twin, suddenly worried he had sacrificed himself as she had planned to do with Lord Horton. But an unfathomable glow of affection for his betrothed set Elizabeth’s mind at ease. He truly admires the girl. She smiled at her brother.

  He announced, “We will have the banns read for the first time next Sunday. We hope to marry in a fortnight or two.”

  “Lovely.” Lady Alameda pronounced and motioned toward the door. “I’m certain we have wearied Lord St. Evert. He must have his rest to recuperate. Let us retire to the great hall for some celebratory refreshments, tea cakes and champagne?”

  No one seemed to notice that Elizabeth stayed behind. Lord Ransley was the last one to leave. “Bless you, my children.” He took a joyful backward look, nodded at them, and shuffled off down the hall.

  The room fell awkwardly silent. Valen reached for her hand. “Why did you not tell me?”

  “What?” she chuckled. “And miss out on that astonishing performance?”

  “You might have spared me the embarrassment.”

  “I have been giving you hints all week.”

  “Those long heavy sighs?” A low rumble in his throat warned her of his skepticism. “I took those to mean any number of indecipherable sentiments. In future, kindly use an alphabet I might comprehend. If I had known a simple statement would have resolved the matter—”

  “Clearly you preferred a more complicated solution.”

  “You realize, of course, that I do.”

  “Yes,” she nodded. “You have a very complex mind.”

  “No.” He grinned quirking up his devilish dimples. “I do love you.”

  “Oh.”

  “So much so, I—” Valen glanced down at her fingers, toying with them. “When I thought I was dying, I could not bear the thought of never holding your hand again, never touching you. I regretted that I might never see the face of our son. Or…” He looked at her with such yearning Elizabeth’s soul flew without hesitation off the roof and melted quite happily into his.

  “Elizabeth, marry me. I want you beside me when I wake up, and when I lie down—

  Mythical creatures or not, marmots aren’t a particularly patient species. Elizabeth lunged at Valen and answered him with a flurry of scandalously warm kisses.

  OTHER Books

  by Kathleen Baldwin

  Exciting new Regency Romance YA series

  Coming May 2015 from Tor Teen:

  A School for Unusual Girls

  My Notorious Aunt – humorous Regency series:

  Lady Fiasco, Book 1, My Notorious Aunt

  Mistaken Kiss, Book 2, My Notorious Aunt

  Cut From the Same Cloth, Book 3, My Notorious Aunt

  Regency Novella:

  The Highwayman Came Waltzing

  Contemporary Young Adult Fantasy

  Diary of a Teenage Fairy Godmother

  Dear Reader,

  Scarlet O'Hara has always intrigued me and I adored the Scarlet Pimpernel. I wondered what would happen if those two character types were thrust into their own story, thus Cut from the Same Cloth was born. As always my work takes a bow to the incomparable Georgette Heyer, and also to the mother of romantic comedy, Jane Austen. I hope you have had as much fun reading Izzie and Valen’s story as I did writing it.

  Here are a few tidbits you might find interesting:

  WHAT HAPPENED TO IZZIE’S FATHER?

  I received numerous letters from readers asking what happened to Izzie’s father and older brother. Some readers inquired after the frail health of Lord Ransley. They also wanted to know how Robert and the title-hungry Miss Dunworthy fared after marriage. In response, I’ve written a short follow-up for those of you who would like to know what happened after the story ended.

  An Afterword for Cut from the Same Cloth is available on my website Bookclub page. You’ll also find tidbits about the Regency era there and in the blog.

  MEDICAL PRACTICES in the Regency era were a fascinating blend of burgeoning science and gruesome archaic practices. The use of leeches in Valen’s procedure is historically accurate. During the Napoleonic wars, both French and British surgeons attempted to stop bleeding and cure disease by bloodletting and applying leeches.

  Conditions were dreadful for those wounded in battle. There were no nurses until the Crimean war. Wounded soldiers depended upon, not medics, but the regiment musicians to pick them up and carry them off the field. Sometimes a regiment hired local peasants with carts to haul them to the doctor’s tent.

  For more about medical practices during the Regency era, and, if you have the stomach for it, a look at some of their actual surgical equipment, visit Historical Extras on Kathleen’s website:

  KathleenBaldwin.com

  IF YOU ENJOYED READING THIS BOOK, please lend your copy to a friend, recommend it to your book club, or write a review! Your reviews help other readers discover your favorite books. If you write one for Cut from the Same Cloth please let me know. I would like to thank you personally.

  Email: Kathleen@KathleenBaldwin.com

  PS: Want insider info, sneak peeks, contests and freebies? Would you like to be first to hear when Kathleen’s next book is coming out? Sign up for Kathleen’s Newsletter. She won’t sell your email, and only sends out a newsletter two or three times a year.

  http://kathleenbaldwin.com/newsletter-subscription/

  PREVIEW 

  #1 New York Times bestselling author Meg Cabot calls this romantic Regency adventure, “completely original and totally engrossing.”

  It’s 1814. Napoleon is exiled on Elba. Europe is in shambles. Britain is at war on four fronts. And Stranje House, a School for Unusual Girls, has become one of Regency England’s dark little secrets.

  The daughters of the beau monde who don’t fit high society’s constrictive mold are banished to Stranje House to be reformed into marriageable young ladies. Or so their parents think. In truth, Headmistress Emma Stranje, the original unusual girl, has plans for the young ladies—plans that entangle the girls in the dangerous world of spies, diplomacy, and war.

  After accidentally setting her father’s stables on fire while performing a scientific experiment, Miss Georgiana Fitzwilliam is sent to Stranje House. But Georgie has no intention of being turned into a simpering, pudding-headed, marriageable miss. She plans to escape as soon as possible—until she meets Lord Sebastian Wyatt. Thrust together in a desperate mission to invent a new invisible ink for the English war effort, Georgie and Sebastian must find a way to work together without losing their heads—or their hearts….

  A School for Unusual Girls is a great next read for fans of Gail Carriger’s Finishing School series and Robin LaFevers’ His Fair A
ssassin series.

  See it on Amazon

  EXCERPT:

  Chapter 1

  Banished

  London, April 17, 1814

  “What if Sir Isaac Newton’s parents had packed him off to a school to reform his manners?” I smoothed my traveling skirts and risked a glance at my parents. They sat across from me, stone-faced and icy as the millpond in winter. Father did not so much as blink in my direction. But then, he seldom did. I tried again. “And if the rumors are true, not just any school—a prison.”

  “Do be quiet, Georgiana.” With fingers gloved in mourning black, my mother massaged her forehead.

  Our coach slowed and rolled to a complete standstill, waylaid by crowds spilling into Bishopsgate Street. All of London celebrated Napoleon’s abdication of the French throne and his imprisonment on the isle of Elba. Rich and poor danced in the streets, raising tankards of ale, belting out military songs, roasting bread and cheese over makeshift fires. Each loud toast, every bellowed stanza, even the smell of feasting sickened me and reopened wounds of grief for the brother I’d lost two years ago in this wretched war. Their jubilation made my journey into exile all the more dismal.

  Father cursed our snail-like progress through town and drummed impatient fingers against his thigh. We’d been traveling from our estate in Middlesex, north of London, since early morning. Mother closed her eyes as if in slumber, a ploy to evade my petitions. She couldn’t possibly be sleeping, not while holding her spine in such an erect fashion. She refused herself the luxury of leaning back against the seat for fear of crumpling the feathers on her bonnet.

  Somehow, some way, I had to convince them to turn back. “You do realize this journey is a needless expense. I have no more use for a schoolroom. I’m sixteen, and since I have already been out in society—”

  Mother snapped to attention. “Oh, yes, Georgiana, I’m well aware of the fact that you have already been out in society. Indeed, I shall never forget Lady Frampton’s card party.”

  I sighed, knowing exactly what she would say next.