Title: Lord Difficult (Maitland's Rogues Book 3)
Author: Eileen Putman
Genre: Historical Romance
Book Blurb:
"Slow burn Regency romance meets 'The Thirty Nine Steps' for intrigue. I laughed out loud, I cried, got angry and loved it." - Book Sirens.
"A captivating tale that was impossible for me to put down. I found the pace spot-on with a seamless flow that kept me hooked all night from one page to the next....Fans of Regency romances will be smitten." Readers' Favorite.
"For anyone who enjoys the beauty of Scotland, a big man with a big heart, a strong female lead, and zany and interesting side characters to add a bit of flavor....captivating!" Book Sirens.
Regency matchmaker Emmaline Stanhope faces her greatest test in Robert Tavish — an intimidating beast of a man who refuses to comply with even basic requirements for a prospective husband. He won’t dance. He won’t learn manners. He won’t even try to please a woman.Oh, but then he saves her life. Whisks her off to Scotland. Reveals dark secrets. Can he reconcile with his past—and the passions he ruthlessly denies? Could she be the Beauty to tame this Beast?
Book 3 in the Maitland's Rogues series of Regency historical romances about daring rogues who worked clandestinely for England during the Napoleonic Wars. Hardened and deadly, they have no use for love--until it ensnares them.
Excerpt:
It was all Emmaline could do not to kick his shins. “I suppose it’s useful for me to learn your faults if I am to find you a bride. I will note that your humor tends toward sardonic. Some women may find that appealing.”
Such candor was unwise, she knew. But she couldn’t resist a chance to puncture the arrogance she was certain lay beneath Mr. Tavish’s relentless disregard of her.
Something flared in that gray gaze, then vanished. “What of your previous customer?” he asked. “Were you able to satisfy his needs?”
He gave the last word a slight emphasis, and it lingered in the air between them.
“My business is entirely aboveboard. I hope you do not suggest otherwise.” Emmaline paused in the event he chose to reassure her that he intended no such insinuations.
Mr. Tavish remained silent.
Abruptly, she rose. Rent money or no, she wouldn’t tolerate insult. “If you are looking for an abbess, you had best look elsewhere.”
“Abbess?” His brow furrowed.
“A-b-b-e-s-s.” Emmaline wrapped her cloak around her and turned to leave. “I doubt you’ll find the meaning in Mr. Johnson’s dictionary. Perhaps some of the noisy ladies out in the corridor can enlighten you.”
He moved to block her way. “Wait.”
Emmaline’s chin rose. They regarded one another like two fighters in Gentleman Jackson’s boxing exhibitions. And yes, she knew more than most women about such events.
“My, ah, requirements for a bride…not something I’ve thought about,” he said.
Why then, had he come to her?
“Intelligence, I suppose,” he added. “Aversion to sentiment, disinclination to hysteria.”
“Most men wish for brides who are beautiful and passionate,” Emmaline said.
“No passion.”
Emmaline blinked. “I see.”
“You think that odd?”
“Marriage is said to foster the sharing of mutual passions,” she said carefully.
“Never met one.”
“One what?” she asked.
“A mutual passion. It’s an illusion created by poets. But I defer to your experience. Doubtless you shared such with your husband.” His speculative gaze made her face warm.
Emmaline studied him. “Why, exactly, do you wish to wed, Mr. Tavish? In my experience, people marry for passion and companionship on the one hand, money and lineage on the other. In the happiest of marriages these goals coincide.”
“I have money. I’ve no use for pedigree, and passion never serves.”
A revelation—the man could muster complete sentences.
“Would you wish for children?” Emmaline asked.
Something flickered in his gaze. “I think not.”
Her stomach chose that moment to growl rebelliously.
“I’ve a biscuit in my pouch,” Mr. Tavish said.
There was no denying the obvious.
“I did not have time to eat,” Emmaline confessed.
He handed her a small cake. While she ate, he finished packing.
Emmaline’s temper improved with food. “So, as I understand your requirements for a bride, she must be smart, practical, even-tempered—”
“More than even-tempered. Phlegmatic. P-h-1-”
“I know how to spell, sir. My education was in no way defective. You want a woman without an ounce of emotion.”
He looked surprised. Did he think her vocabulary limited to words of one syllable?
“What of her appearance?” Emmaline asked.
Mr. Tavish stared at her blankly.
“Her looks, sir. Some of my clients prefer dark-haired women, some light; some prefer thin women, others ladies with more...fullness.”
“Big as a barn or as thin as a rail, just as long as she doesn’t get in my way.” He pronounced “rail” with a slight trilling of the R. “I have precise habits. Commit them to memory, as my wife must observe them scrupulously.”
Emmaline eyed him warily. “My memory is excellent.”
“Good. I rise at six, breakfast at seven. Luncheon is flexible—noon, give or take the half hour. I am not to be disturbed when working in my study. I take sherry at dusk, dinner at eight, brandy after. Prefer whisky, but not the English turpentine.”
“Sherry at dusk,” she murmured, dazed.
“In summer I am in Cornwall for digs. Autumn I prepare a paper on my findings for presentation to the Society. Winter I teach at Oxford.”
“And the spring?” she managed. “Is that planned, too, or do you leave it to chance?”
“I leave nothing to chance. Spring is Sussex—wealth of fossils in sandstone. But I’m intrigued by Devon’s possibilities, so that may change. You are looking at me strangely.”
“It is just that—” Emmaline began.
“Those are my requirements. How soon can you find someone?”
When hell freezes over.
“I may need a few days,” she said cautiously.
He picked up his charts and bone. “Time to leave.”
Emmaline waited for the arm she assumed would be offered. But Mr. Tavish simply strode off. At length, he turned and frowned. “Coming?”
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Author Biography:
I'm a Regency buff. That's the period in England between 1811 and 1820, when Mad George was on the throne (George III, of "Hamilton" fame). His illnesses led to the Prince of Wales being named Regent to act in his stead. It’s a fascinating time, when social strictures aimed at privileging the social elite stood in sharp contrast with advances in science, technology and trade that threatened to make those aristocrats irrelevant.
I love research—a legacy of my journalism days. My Regency historical romances have inspired research trips to England, Ireland, Wales, Scotland, France and other countries.
My Maitland’s Rogues series features daring men working clandestinely for England during the Napoleonic Wars. Hardened and deadly, they have no use for love—until it ensnares them.
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Author website: https://eileenputman.com