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About the Book
While
you were sleeping...
With her brother Thomas injured on the battlefront in the
Colonies, orphaned Cecilia Harcourt has two unbearable choices: move in with a
maiden aunt or marry a scheming cousin. Instead, she chooses option three and
travels across the Atlantic, determined to nurse her brother back to health.
But after a week of searching, she finds not her brother but his best friend,
the handsome officer Edward Rokesby. He's unconscious and in desperate need of
her care, and Cecilia vows that she will save this soldier's life, even if
staying by his side means telling one little lie...
I
told everyone I was your wife
When Edward comes to, he's more than a little confused.
The blow to his head knocked out six months of his memory, but surely he would
recall getting married. He knows who Cecilia Harcourt is—even if he does not
recall her face—and with everyone calling her his wife, he decides it must be
true, even though he'd always assumed he'd marry his neighbor back in England.
If
only it were true...
Cecilia risks her entire future by giving
herself—completely—to the man she loves. But when the truth comes out, Edward
may have a few surprises of his own for the new Mrs. Rokesby.
Win a print
copy of BECAUSE OF MISS BRIDGERTON (US Only)
Manhattan Island
July 1779
His
head hurt.
Correction,
his head really hurt.
It
was hard to tell, though, just what sort of pain it was. He might have been shot through the head
with a musket ball. That seemed plausible, given his current location in New
York (or was it Connecticut?) and his current occupation as a captain in His
Majesty’s army.
There
was a war going on, in case one hadn’t noticed.
But
this particular pounding—the one that felt more like someone was bashing his
skull with a cannon (not a cannonball,
mind you, but an actual cannon) seemed to indicate that he had been attacked
with a blunter instrument than a bullet.
An
anvil, perhaps. Dropped from a second-story window.
But
if one cared to look on the bright side, a pain such as this did seem to
indicate that he wasn’t dead, which was also a plausible fate, given all the
same facts that had led him to believe he might have been shot.
That
war he’d mentioned... people did die.
With
alarming regularity.
So
he wasn’t dead. That was good. But he also wasn’t sure where he was, precisely.
The obvious next step would be to open his eyes, but his eyelids were
translucent enough for him to realize that it was the middle of the day, and
while he did like to look on the metaphorical bright side, he was fairly
certain that the literal one would prove blinding.
So
he kept his eyes closed.
But
he listened.
He
wasn’t alone. He couldn’t make out any actual conversation, but a low buzz of
words and activity filtered through the air. People were moving about, setting
objects on tables, maybe pulling a chair across the floor.
Someone
was moaning in pain.
Most
of the voices were male, but there was at least one lady nearby. She was close
enough that he could hear her breathing. She made little noises as she went
about her business, which he soon realized included tucking blankets around him
and touching his forehead with the back of her hand.
He
liked these little noises, the tiny little mmms
and sighs she probably had no idea she was making. And she smelled nice, a bit
like lemons, a bit like soap.
And
a bit like hard work.
He
knew that smell. He’d worn it himself, albeit usually only briefly until it
turned into a full-fledged stink.
On
her, though, it was more than pleasant. Perhaps a little earthy. And he
wondered who she was, to be tending to him so diligently.
“How
is he today?”
Edward
held himself still. This male voice was new, and he wasn’t sure he wanted
anyone to know he was awake yet.
Although
he wasn’t sure why he felt this
hesitancy.
“The
same,” came the woman’s reply.
“I
am concerned. If he doesn’t wake up soon...”
“I
know,” the woman said. There was a touch of irritation in her voice, which
Edward found curious.
“Have
you been able to get him to take broth?”
“Just
a few spoonfuls. I was afraid he would choke if I attempted any more than
that.”
The
man made a vague noise of approval. “Remind me how long he has been like this?”
“A
week, sir. Four days before I arrived, and three since.”
A
week. Edward thought about this. A week meant it must be... March? April?
No,
maybe it was only February. And this was probably New York, not Connecticut.
But
that still didn’t explain why his head hurt so bloody much. Clearly he’d been
in some sort of an accident. Or had he been attacked?
“There
has been no change at all?” the man asked, even though the lady had just said
as much.
But
she must have had far more patience than Edward, because she replied in a
quiet, clear voice, “No, sir. None.”
The
man made a noise that wasn’t quite a grunt. Edward found it impossible to
interpret.
“Er...”
The woman cleared her throat. “Have you any news of my brother?”
Her
brother? Who was her brother?
“I
am afraid not, Mrs. Rokesby.”
Mrs. Rokesby?
“It has been nearly two months,” she said quietly.
Mrs. Rokesby? Edward really wanted them
to get back to that point. There was only one Rokesby in North America as far
as he knew, and that was him. So if she was Mrs. Rokesby...
“I
think,” the male voice said, “that your energies would be better spent tending
to your husband.”
Husband?
“I
assure you,” she said, and there was that touch of irritation again, “that I
have been caring for him most faithfully.”
Husband?
They were calling him her husband?
Was he married? He couldn’t be married. How could he be married and not
remember it?
Who was this woman?
Edward’s
heart began to pound. What the devil was happening to him?
“Did
he just make a noise?” the man asked.
“I...
I don’t think so.”
She
moved then, quickly. Hands touched him, his cheek, then his chest, and even
through her obvious concern, there was something soothing in her motions,
something undeniably right.
“Edward?”
she asked, taking his hand. She stroked it several times, her fingers brushing
lightly over his skin. “Can you hear me?”
He
ought to respond. She was worried. What kind of gentleman did not act to
relieve a lady’s distress?
“I
fear he may be lost to us,” the man said, with far less gentleness than Edward
thought appropriate.
“He
still breathes,” the woman said in a steely voice.
The
man said nothing, but his expression must have been one of pity, because she
said it again, more loudly this time.
“He still breathes.”
“Mrs.
Rokesby...”
Edward
felt her hand tighten around his. Then she placed her other on top, her fingers
resting lightly on his knuckles. It was the smallest sort of embrace, but
Edward felt it down to his soul.
“He
still breathes, Colonel,” she said with quiet resolve. “And while he does, I
will be here. I may not be able to help Thomas, but—”
Thomas. Thomas Harcourt. That was the connection. This must be
his sister. Cecilia. He knew her well.
Or
not. He’d never actually met the lady, he felt
like he knew her. She wrote to her brother with a diligence that was unmatched
in the regiment. Thomas received twice as much mail as Edward, and Edward had
four siblings to Thomas’s one.
Cecilia
Harcourt. What on earth was she doing in North America? She was supposed to be
in Derbyshire, in that little town Thomas had been so eager to leave. The one
with the hot springs. Matlock. No, Matlock Bath.
Edward
had never been, but he thought it sounded charming. Not the way Thomas
described it, of course; he liked the bustle of city life and couldn’t wait to
take a commission and depart his village. But Cecilia was different. In her
letters, the small Derbyshire town came alive, and Edward almost felt that he
would recognize her neighbors if he ever went to visit.
She
was witty. Lord, she was witty. Thomas used to laugh so much at her missives
that Edward finally made him read them out loud.
Then
one day, when Thomas was penning his response, Edward interrupted so many times
that Thomas finally shoved out his chair and held forth his quill.
“You
write to her,” he’d said.
So
he did.
Not
on his own, of course. Edward could never have written to her directly. It
would have been the worst sort of impropriety, and he would not have insulted
her in such a manner. But he took to scribbling a few lines at the end of
Thomas’s letters, and whenever she replied, she had a few lines for him.
Thomas
carried a miniature of her, and even though he said it was several years old,
Edward had found himself staring at it, studying the small portrait of the
young woman, wondering if her hair really was that remarkable golden color, or
if she really did smile that way, lips closed and mysterious.
Somehow
he thought not. She did not strike him as a woman with secrets. Her smile would
be sunny and free. Edward had even thought he’d like to meet her once this
godforsaken war was over. He’d never said anything to Thomas, though.
That
would have been strange.
Now
Cecilia was here. In the colonies. Which made absolutely no sense, but then
again, what did? Edward’s head was injured, and Thomas seemed to be missing,
and...
Edward
thought hard.
...and
he seemed to have married Cecilia Harcourt.
He
opened his eyes and tried to focus on the green-eyed woman peering down at him.
“Cecilia?”
Addicted 2 Romance Review:
I voluntarily reviewed an Advance Reader Copy of this book.
I am a HUGE Julia Quinn fan. I even read the first book in the series and I really LOVED the story about Billie and Edwards brother, George. Billie is the girl in this story mentioned as the neighbor in the description of this book. Billie is Edwards best friend growing up, however they never got engaged or even were in love and in the first book in this series Billie and George fall in love. At the end of book 1, we find out Edward is alive and he is home. This book starts at the point where he is in New York, yes the United States and is just waking up from a coma. So we back track a little in this story, to see what happened to Edward while he was away.
This book 99.9% takes place in the United States aka The Colonies and in New York. I found it extremely different than any other Julia Quinn book in that it is NOT in England. I also was very impressed with the historical info that is used and shared in the story about British soldiers fighting in the colonies.
The story also had some drama in it, as Edward and Cecilia try and find out what happened to Edwards close friend, Thomas, who is also Cecilia's brother. And that is how Cecilia ends up pretending to be married to Edward. While he is injured the only way for her to help him is for her to pretend to be his family - wife. She travels from England to New York, trying to find her brother and instead finds Edward who needs her to nurse him in his coma and then even afterwards.
The problem is that Cecilia never tells Edward the truth. She never tells him they are not married. Even when they leave the hospital. And that was something I did not like or respect. I am used to alot of humor with Julia Quinns stories, and this one was not very fun. The war is going on around them. So its also hard to have humor in that kind of story, so I understand the why not, but still it was something I really missed.
While this story was very well written and actually included much more history and facts than I am used to in Julia Quinn's other books, I missed the balls and the flirting that England stories have. I would have rather seen less The Colonies and more seeing Edward and Cecelia in the British world and seeing them more with George and Billie.
This book easily stands alone and if you enjoy American Historical romances than I think you will really love this story. It is a different type of historical romance for Julia Quinn and she did an amazing job in the writing and history of it and tying it into the first book in the series.
About the Author
Julia Quinn is the New York Times bestselling author of twenty-five novels for Avon Books, and one of only sixteen authors ever to be inducted in the Romance Writers of America Hall of Fame. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her family.
