Blog Tour & Review: From Duke Till Dawn (The London Underground #1) by Eva Leigh
Print Length: 384 pages
Publisher: Avon (Harper's Collins) Publishing (May 30, 2017)
Author: Eva Leigh
Genre: Historical Romance
Tour Organized by: Tasty Tours
DISCLAIMER: I received a complimentary copy of this novel in exchange for my honest review. This has not affected my review in any way. All thoughts and opinions expressed in this review are 100% my own.
Book Blurb : Years
ago, the Duke of Greyland gave his heart—and a princely sum of money—to
a charming, destitute widow with unparalleled beauty. After one
passionate night, she slipped from his bed and vanished without a trace.
And just when he’s given up hope of ever seeing her again, Greyland
finds her managing a gaming hell. He’s desperate to have her… until he
discovers everything about his long-lost lover was a lie.
In truth, Cassandra Blake grew up on the streets, picking pockets to survive. Greyland was a mark—to be fleeced and forgotten—but her feelings for the duke became all too real. Once he learns of her deception, however, the heat in his eyes turns to ice. When her business partner absconds with the gaming hell proceeds—leaving unsavory investors out for blood—Cassandra must beg the man she betrayed for help.
Greyland wants compensation, too, and he’ll assist her under one condition: she doesn’t leave his sight until her debts are paid. But it’s not long before the real Cassandra—the smart, streetwise criminal—is stealing his heart all over again.
Book Excerpt: London, England
1817
A
woman laughed, and
Alexander Lewis, Duke of Greyland felt the sound like a gunshot to
his chest.
It
was a very pleasant laugh, low and musical rather than shrill and
forced, yet it sounded like The Lost Queen’s laugh. Alex could not
resist the urge to glance over his shoulder as he left the Eagle
chophouse. He’d fancifully taken to calling her The Lost Queen,
though she was most assuredly a mortal woman. Had she somehow
appeared on a busy London street at dusk? The last time he’d seen
her had been two years ago, in the spa town of Cheltenham, in his
bed, asleep and naked.
The
owner of the laugh turned out to be a completely different
woman—brunette rather than blonde, petite and round rather than
lithe and willowy. She caught Alex staring and raised her eyebrows.
He bowed gravely in response, then continued toward the curb.
Night
came on in indigo waves, but the shops spilled golden light in
radiant patches onto the street.
The
hardworking citizens of London continued to toil as the upper
echelons began their evening revelries. Crowds thronged the sidewalk,
while wagons, carriages, and people on horseback crammed the streets.
A handful of pedestrians recognized Alex and politely curtsied or
tipped their hats, murmuring, “Good evening, Your Grace.” Though
he was in no mood for politeness, responsibility and virtue were his
constant companions—had been his whole life—and so rather than
snapping, “Go to the devil, damn you!” he merely nodded in
greeting.
He’d
done his duty. He’d been seen in public, rather than disappearing
into the cavernous chambers of his Mayfair mansion, where he could
lick his wounds in peace.
The
trouble with being a duke was that he always
had to do his duty. “You
are the pinnacle of British Society,” his father had often said to
him. “The world looks to you
for guidance. So you must
lead by example. Be their True North.”
This
evening, before dining, Alex had taken a very conspicuous turn up and
down Bond Street, making certain that he was seen by many
consequential—and loose-lipped— figures in the ton.
Word would soon spread that the Duke of Greyland was not holed up,
sulking in seclusion. His honor as one of Society’s bulwarks would
not be felled by something as insignificant as his failed marriage
suit to Lady Emmeline Birks. The Dukes of Greyland had stood strong
against Roundheads, Jacobites, and countless other threats against
Britain. One girl barely out of the schoolroom could hardly damage
Alex’s ducal armor.
But
that armor had been dented by The Lost Queen. Far deeper than he
would have expected.
Standing
on the curb, he signaled for his carriage, which pulled out of the
mews. He tugged on his spotless gloves as he waited and adjusted the
brim of his black beaver hat to make certain it sat properly on his
head. “Always maintain a faultless appearance,” his father had
reminded him again and again. “The slightest bit of disorder in
your dress can lead to rampant speculation about the stability of
your affairs. This, we cannot tolerate. The nation demands nothing
less than perfection.”
Alex’s
father had been dead for ten years, but that didn’t keep the
serious, sober man’s voice from his mind. It was part of him
now—his role as one of the most powerful men in England and the
responsibilities that role carried with it. Not once did he ever let
frivolities distract him from his duties.
Except
for one time . . .
Forcing
the thought from his mind, Alex looked impatiently for his carriage.
Just as the vehicle pulled up, however, two men appeared and grabbed
his arms on each side.
Alex
stiffened—he did not care for being touched without giving someone
express permission to do so. People on the street also did not
normally seize each other. Was it a robbery? A kidnapping attempt?
His hands curled instinctively into fists, ready to give his
accosters a beating.
“What’s
this?” one of the younger men exclaimed with mock horror. “Have I
grabbed hold of a thundercloud?”
“Don’t
know about you,” the other man said drily, “but I seem to have
attached myself to an enormous bar of iron. How else to explain its
inflexibility?” He tried to shake Alex, to little avail. When he
wanted to be, Alex was absolutely immovable.
Alex’s
fingers loosened. He tugged his arms free and growled, “That’s
enough, you donkeys.”
Thomas
Powell, the Earl of Langdon and heir to the Duke of Northfield,
grinned, a flash of white in his slightly unshaven face. “Come now,
Greyland,” he chided. A hint of an Irish accent made his voice
musical, evidence of Langdon’s early years spent in his mother’s
native County Kerry. “Is that any way to speak to your oldest and
dearest friends?”
“I’ll
let you know when they get here.” Alex scowled at Langdon, then at
Christopher Ellingsworth, who only smirked in response.
Alex
took a step toward his carriage, but Ellingsworth deftly moved to
block his path, displaying the speed and skill that had served him
well when he’d fought on the Peninsula.
“Where
are you running off to with such indecorous haste?” Ellingsworth
pressed. He held up a finger. “Ah, never tell me. You’re running
back to the shelter of your Mayfair cave, to growl and brood like
some big black bear in a cravat.”
“You
know nothing,” Alex returned, despite the fact that Ellingsworth
had outlined his exact plans for the rest of the night.
Ellingsworth
looked at Langdon with exaggerated pity. “Poor chap. The young Lady
Emmeline has utterly shattered his heart.”
Alex
shouldered past Ellingsworth, only to have Langdon move to stand in
his way.
“My
heart is not shattered
because of Lady
Emmeline,” Alex snapped. At least that much was the truth.
“But
why shouldn’t your heart be strewn in pieces throughout Regent’s
Park?” Langdon mused. “You courted the young lady for several
months, and you told Ellingsworth and I that you’d already received
her father’s grateful acceptance of a marriage offer.”
“She
never agreed to anything,” Alex said flatly.
“A
modest girl, that Lady Emmeline.” Ellingsworth nodded with
approval. “She wouldn’t have said yes right away. They never do.
Nothing to be alarmed by.”
“How
would you know?” Alex’s voice was edged. Ellingsworth had little
experience with offering for ladies’ hands, committed as he was to
a life of reckless pleasure.
Langdon
added, “It’d be unseemly for an earl’s daughter to eagerly snap
up a marriage proposal the moment it was offered.”
Alex
scowled. Despite the fact that, at thirty-eight, he was sixteen years
her senior, they would suit well as a wedded couple. Lady Emmeline
had been perfectly trained in the responsibilities of an aristocratic
wife. Though he wished she stated her own opinion rather than
constantly agreeing with him, there were worse faults one could find
in a prospective bride.
They
could marry at Christmas, eight months from now. It would be a small
but elegant wedding, followed by a lavish breakfast and a wedding
journey in the Lake District. And then, if everything went well, in
less than a year, Alex and Lady Emmeline might welcome their first
child—hopefully a boy so the line would be secure. It would’ve
been precisely the sort of match Alex’s
father
would have approved, considering Lady Emmeline’s faultless
background and her spotless reputation.
“Look
at him now, mooning away,” Langdon sighed, smugly thwarting Alex’s
attempts to step around him. “He looks poorly.”
It
would be bad form to knock his friend to the ground. Damn the social
niceties that dictated a man couldn’t punch another without
repercussions.
“Perhaps
he should be bled,” Ellingsworth suggested with his habitual smirk.
It was his constant companion since returning from the War, as if he
refused to take anything seriously.
“I
am perfectly well.” Alex looked back and forth between these two
rogues whom he called friends. “No need to call for a quack.”
“He’s
already had an amputation,” Langdon noted, raising a brow as he
always did. “One prospective bride—gone.” He made a sawing
motion at his ankle, as if cutting the shackles of matrimony.
Alex
glanced down at his own lower leg, as if he could see the invisible
links that might have bound him to Lady Emmeline. He’d come so
close to becoming a married man and sharing the rest of his life with
one woman—the faultless duke his father had bred him to be. It
hardly mattered that Alex felt nothing for the gel other than a sense
of distant respect. She would have made a fine duchess.
“We
were at White’s yesterday when we heard about what happened,”
Langdon said with disapproval. “Didn’t even tell your two closest
friends that Lady Emmeline had run off with a cavalry officer. No, we
had to hear it from Lord Ruthven, of all people.”
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At first I was fully expecting to absolutely HATE Cassandra. After hard it is very hard to find any redeeming qualities about someone who lies and swindles people out of their money (not to mention has also picked pockets and run any number of other nefarious games). I was even more sure of my hatred towards her when she turns to Greyland for help after what her business partner did to her.
However, watching those two interact? Watching their distrust of each other turn to a begrudging friendship? This story was one of those "slow burn" romances that I absolutely adore. I love when there is drama, and obstacles in the way of a relationship and on that account this novel did not disappoint. I loved the way these two found their way to the truth of each other, and how each helped the other in a way that was commendable. I enjoyed their interactions, from entering the underbelly of London in an attempt to capture her former partner, to the tense carriage rides, and daring daylight abductions, this story had something for everyone!
All that being said, I would highly recommend this novel to anyone who enjoys a well-written and engaging historical romance. I would also recommend this novel to someone who enjoys a good build up to the romance instead of the characters just jumping into it. I look forward to reading more from this author!
DISCLAIMER: I received a complimentary copy of this novel in exchange for my honest review. This has not affected my review in any way. All thoughts and opinions expressed in this review are 100% my own.
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GIVEAWAY!!!
The author is giving away 5 print copies of From Duke Till Dawn!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
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