So Enchanting - Softcover

Brockway, Connie

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0451416295 ISBN 13: 9780451416292

Publisher: Berkley, 2009

Synopsis

When Lord Greyson Sheffield, the very same man who had ruined her reputation and sent her into exile in the Scottish Highlands, arrives on her doorstep, Francesca Walcott, a mysteriously gifted medium, discovers magic in his arms amidst peril and evil. Original.

About this title

About the Author:

The author of seventeen full length novels, Connie Brockway lives in Minnesota with her husband and several dogs. An adult daughter has managed to escape to warmer climes. For now.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

 

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twentyfive

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-one

Chapter Thirty-two

Chapter Thirty-three

Chapter Thirty-four

Chapter Thirty-five

Chapter Thirty-six

Chapter Thirty-seven

Chapter Thirty-eight

Chapter Thirty-nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-one

Chapter Forty-two

 

Teaser chapter

Praise for the Novels of Connie Brockway

Skinny Dipping

“Realistically quirky characters, delightfully clever writing, and a warmly nourishing story about family, friendship, and love come together brilliantly.”

—Chicago Tribune

“Spiked with her addictively acerbic wit, Brockaway’s latest beguiling blend of women’s fiction and romance...unfolds into a richly nourishing tale of family, friendship, love, and laughter.”

—Booklist

“Bittersweet and touching . . . [a] most satisfying tale.”

—Romantic Times

“Just right for a long winter day.”

—Minnesota Monthly

“A witty, warmhearted novel that will keep the reader laughing. This hilarious, mysterious and romantic book is a keeper.”

—Romance Junkies

“An exquisitely rendered setting, an abundance of complex family dynamics, a story that explores what it means to belong, and a beautifully developed romantic relationship guarantee the appeal of this well-crafted tale for both romance and women’s fiction fans alike.”

—Library Journal

Hot Dish

“Rapier wit and dazzling prose . . . Brockway writes sheer magic.”

—Elizabeth Bevarly

“A dazzling contemporary debut!”—Christina Dodd

“A hilarious, bittersweet look at going home.”

—Eloisa James

“Wry, witty, and wonderful! This cast of unforgettable characters will tickle your funny bone and your heartstrings.”

—Teresa Medeiros

“This combination caper and comedy-of-errors story is just wacky enough to keep you giggling. Brava!”

—Romantic Times

“A smart and funny page-turner.”

—All About Romance

“Splendidly satisfying. With its surfeit of realistically quirky characters and sharp wit, Hot Dish is simply superb.”

—Booklist

The Rose Hunter Trilogy: My Surrender

“By brilliantly blending an exquisitely sensual romance between two deliciously stubborn individuals into a plot rife with danger, deception and desire, and then wrapping the whole thing up in wickedly witty and elegant writing Brockway deftly demonstrates her gift for creating richly imagined completely irresistible love stories.”

—Library Journal (starred review)

The Rose Hunter Trilogy: My Seduction

“A well-crafted, engaging read.”

—Publishers Weekly

“A fabulous love story . . . wicked, tender, playful, and sumptuous. Too wonderful to resist.”

—Lisa Kleypas

The Rose Hunter Trilogy: My Pleasure

“This is why people read romance . . . an exceptionally good read.”

—All About Romance

Bridal Favors

“A scrumptious literary treat . . . wonderfully engaging characters, superbly crafted plot, and prose rich in wit and humor.”

—Booklist

“Never predictable, always refreshing, wonderfully touching, deeply emotional, Ms. Brockway’s books never fail to satisfy. Connie Brockway is simply one of the best.”

—All About Romance

The Bridal Season

“Characters, setting, and plot are all handled with perfect aplomb by Brockway, who displays a true gift for humor. Witty and wonderful.”

—Booklist

“If it’s smart, sexy, and impossible to put down, it’s a book by Connie Brockway.”

—Christina Dodd

The McClairen’s Isle Series: The Ravishing One

“Exquisite romance . . . vivid characters, beautifully atmospheric setting, and sensuous love scenes.”

—Library Journal

“If you’re looking for passion, tenderness, wit, and warmth, you need look no further. Connie Brockway is simply the best.”

—Teresa Medeiros

The McClairen’s Isle Series: The Passionate One

“This is a glorious book.”

—Romance Reviews

“Rich, romantic, and intense.”—Jill Barnett

The McClairen’s Isle Series: The Reckless One

“Readers will enjoy the excitement and passion.”

—Publishers Weekly

My Dearest Enemy

“Connie Brockway is a master at creating sparkling chemistry.”

—Laura Kinsale

As You Desire

“Smart, sassy, sexy, and funny.”

—Romantic Times

My Scottish Summer

“Romance with strength, wit, and intelligence. Connie Brockway delivers!”

—Tami Hoag

Once Upon a Pillow

“[Brockway’s] work brims with warmth, wit, sensuality, and intelligence.”

—Amanda Quick

Also by Connie Brockway

Skinny Dipping

Hot Dish

ONYX

Published by New American Library, a division of
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First published by Onyx, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

First Printing, February 2009

Copyright © Connie Brockway, 2009

All rights reserved

REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this
publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system,
or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission
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PUBLISHER’S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the
product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance
to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or
locales is entirely coincidental.

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via
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eISBN : 978-1-101-02474-4

To D.B. Thanks for the magic.

Chapter One

Mayfair, London
1892

 

When exactly had the mediums of London gotten together and decided that the afterworld reeked of sandalwood? Lord Greyson Sheffield wondered, taking a sniff of the séance parlor. Because obviously they had, for in every one of the séances Grey had attended—and he’d attended many—the sickly-sweet stench inevitably preceded the resident spiritualist’s declaration that he’d made contact with the hereafter.

And sure enough, right on cue, Alphonse Brown’s eyes widened with childlike wonder.

In appearance, Brown was typical of male mediums: pasty complexioned, with white-blond hair, a thin, downy mustache, and a slight build. His only remarkable features were his large, heavy-lidded eyes, nearly imbecilic with guilelessness. Grey had been told by several females who’d met the man that he was a comely youth, even though he suspected Brown was close to his own age of thirty-two years. To Grey, he’d looked like a dim-witted adolescent.

But then, Grey doubted two males could have looked more unalike than he and Brown. He was well aware that the combination of his swarthy complexion, the asymmetry of his features achieved by dint of a nose broken in a past altercation, and his perpetually beard-shadowed jaw only augmented his resemblance to a Welsh physical laborer. His burly physique didn’t refute the similarity, either.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and frankly muscular, all assets he’d used to his advantage in the ring, where he’d been his regiment’s boxing champion for three years running. Happily, those days were done; he’d always disliked being hit. Currently his situation demanded he present a more refined persona to the world, since presenting a refined appearance was out of the question. As the son of a marquess, it was not too great a feat to pull off.

“I sense we are going to meet with success tonight,” the medium now said aloud to the small group gathered in the dark room. “Can you not smell the perfume of the Other Side? Your loved ones are near.”

A rumble of excited murmurs met this remark, followed by the usual round of barely voiced hopes, wet-eyed self-remonstrations, and eager questions, all of which Brown answered with vague assurances. The wealthy industrialist nodded emphatically, while a renowned M.P., recently knighted, swallowed convulsively, and his wife dabbed at her eyes. Next to Grey, a plump opera singer sucked in enough air to sing an aria, while on his other side an ancient German stared sadly at the ceiling above, waiting patiently for a glimpse of his lost love. There was only one empty chair at the table, that being directly across from where Brown sat, on the other side of the opera singer.

“The scent of the divine,” the opera singer whispered raptly.

More likely a smudge pot. The only mystery was how Brown had introduced the scent into the room. Thick velvet draperies covered the walls from ceiling to floor, the only openings being the door through which they’d entered, another in the small cabinet in the corner of the room, and the small, unlit fireplace that Grey had surreptitiously examined while they waited for their host’s arrival. The smell came from none of these sources.

“Mr. Kidd, you look dubious,” Brown said, and Grey cursed himself. Spiritualists were successful because they read their quarry’s every expression and word and designed their responses accordingly. And Brown was very, very successful.

“No. Just distracted,” he said. It had taken him weeks to secure an invitation to this sitting. Brown was cautious. He invited only true believers, and only very wealthy believers. Grey had arranged an introduction to Brown by posing as a recently immigrated and immensely rich widower. “I don’t dare hope too much,” he added.

His answer must have succeeded in reassuring Brown, for he reached across the table and patted Grey’s hand consolingly. Grey tensed as he fought to keep his face immobile.

He’d gotten very good at forgetting the events that had led him into his career as a special prosecutor for the Lord Chief Justice, exposing frauds and confidence tricksters, but every now and then the past awoke and ripped his heart anew before he kicked it back into submission. Just now, when Brown had patted his hand, Grey had been a boy again, quivering with impotent rage as his father fawned over a smug, sweating little toad of a man who’d hinted that he might be able to contact the marquess’s long-dead daughter—Grey’s half sister, Johanna. Grey had stood at his father’s side, humiliated and impotent. The toad had noted Grey’s revulsion and patted his hand in just such a manner, his hard eyes mocking him as he’d simpered, “Now, don’t you worry, lad. I’ll find your dear sister for your dad. No matter how long it takes.”

It had taken two years, a huge portion of his family’s heirlooms, and most of his father ’s unentailed properties. After his father ’s death, the recovery of each penny and every artifact had become Grey’s raison d’être.

That, along with the complete annihilation of the toad.

But Grey hadn’t stopped there. He found he enjoyed being the predator in this game, chasing his quarry to ground, dragging them into a court of law, where he exposed them as gimcrack charlatans, destroying their reputations and their livelihoods.

“Let us begin,” the spiritualist now said, bringing Grey back to the moment.

Grey watched, interested. Brown rose and headed toward a cabinet in the back of the room. Though Grey had seen spirit cabinets before, he’d never seen a male simulate the effect. Generally, a female medium would enter the cabinet and forthwith fall into a “trance.” Only in this state could she conjure up the “spirit guide,” who would appear on the other side of the room. Should anyone open the door to the cabinet during the manifestation, however, not only would the spirit vanish, but the medium’s very life would be imperiled. Or at least her credibility. Because inevitably the spirit was simply the medium herself, who, after circumnavigating the room through a hidden hallway, flounced about in the dark room in a bedsheet and a wig.

Grey hoped to God Brown didn’t don a wig. Even a medium should draw the line somewhere.

But Brown simply opened the door, whispered something within, and turned with a tremulous smile. “My wife, Francesca.”

A sylph entered the room. A creature of moonlight and shadows, wary, a hint of trepidation in the cant of her brows and the angle of her chin. That was his first impression of Francesca Brown, not of her beauty—he barely noted it at first—but of the isolation that surrounded her like an aura, a detachment that suggested she did not share the same air with mortal men.

He shook his head, troubled by such uncharacteristic fancifulness. She was young, perhaps not yet twenty, and luminous. There was no other word for it. Her eyes glowed like polished onyx....

About this edition

• Publisher: Berkley
• Publication date: 2009
• ISBN 10: 0451416295
• ISBN 13: 9780451416292
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• Number of pages: 432