After her father dies, Effie Bowman and her eight sisters are left penniless, homeless, and alone. Salvation comes in the form of the new custodian of the estate, Mr Thornaby. But the more she learns of Mr Thornaby, the more she realises he needs her discretion as much as she needs his security.
In her efforts to moderate the wild Mr Thornaby, she recruits the unlikely aid of ton society’s most determined widower, Sir John Callander.
As the season progresses and Effie pulls Sir John deeper into her desperate schemes to moderate Mr Thornaby, both are forced to wonder if Effie is attempting to tame the wrong gentleman.
EXCERPT:
Of all the consequences to befall a clutch of daughters belonging to an entailed estate, this one was quite outside the common.
‘£20 a month in pin money?!’ cried Effie.
‘Each.’
Mrs Thornaby, ensconced in a cream morning gown of twilled French silk that seemed to defy her age, smiled most becomingly upon her niece.
‘That is just for your frills and affects and whatever other small accoutrements you young girls require these days,’ said Mrs Thornaby. ‘Your dresses, gowns, and hats, of course, can be drawn against my son’s account.’
‘Ma’am, I could never.’
‘Oh, yes, you could,’ said Mrs Thornaby. ‘That boy has too much money.’
Effie’s eyes flashed, and she yanked her gaze down.
Grimacing, Mrs Thornaby said, ‘So, your mother has told you a little of it, I collect.’
‘She has, ma’am,’ Effie admitted.
Mrs Thornaby looked her up and down.
‘Your mother tells me you are an exceptionally good manager.’
Now the talk of money had faded, Effie’s calm, dark eyes levelled upon Mrs Thornaby once more.
‘Yes, ma’am, it’s true.’
‘I suppose with eight sisters, borne of a mother of my sister’s temperament, you, as the eldest, should rather be forced into such a role, even if it was not of your disposition.’
A smirk crossed Effie’s features as she declared, ‘That much is true, to be sure.’
‘But men and boys are a different matter indeed.’
Effie’s hands, trying to thread a needle, paused. She set her embroidery box down and took up her cup of tea.
‘I have no brothers.’
‘Clearly,’ said Mrs Thornaby. ‘And husbands? What thoughts have you on them?’
‘Not so many, ma’am. I can scarcely imagine having one, never mind plural!’
Mrs Thornaby did not laugh. Instead she set down her teacup with a clatter.
‘As you may have heard, my son returned last night from Brighton.’ She paused. ‘My son is… a particular kind of fellow.’
Effie’s brow arched. Having heard—during the small hours of the morning—this particular kind of fellow stumble through the upstairs hallway singing about the roast beef of Great Britain, she was inclined to agree with a great many insinuations that issued from that vague sobriquet.
‘Indeed?’
‘He is now, of course, the custodian of your late father’s estate—by some contortion of family lines.’
Society in the northeast of England was sparse. Somehow, Mrs Thornaby’s son had ended up taking title to the entail of her sister’s late husband’s estate.
‘Yes.’
‘It is all that is natural, then,’ Mrs Thornaby went on. ‘That my son should marry you, to maintain my sister’s place at Barraton.’
What little of the sisterly rivalry that had been passed on to Effie permitted her to regard this piece of charity with deep suspicion. Her eyes cinched a touch.
‘With respect, ma’am, I fail to see why Mr Thornaby should want to marry me.’
‘I do not.’
Blushing, Effie picked up her embroidery box again. ‘I mean, ma’am, that Mr Thornaby must have a great many… um, admirers. I cannot see that he will mark me with any distinction.’
‘He will not, but I shall tell him he is to marry you. Likely, the novelty of it will tickle him, and he will entertain it for a while. Thereafter, it is your duty to… charm him.’
Effie touched her nose. She looked around the cavernous room.
It was an early, grey morning, but the shiny mahogany and silk furniture, glossy wallpapered walls, and great sash windows shone under the blaze of three gilded hearths.
‘Oh. I see.’
Mrs Thornaby’s eyes followed Effie’s, and she grimaced.
‘We are family, Miss Bowman. Now more than we ever were. My son represents Barraton. He is Barraton.’
Effie’s jaw quirked.
‘To put things plainly, my dear, it has lately come to my attention that my son is very much in need of the companionship, temperance, and governance that a wife must, to some unions, bring.’
Mrs Thornaby paused.
‘Now, am I saying that my son is bereft of the faculties required in choosing or acquiring a wife? I am not. But one cannot but put more faith in one’s own family, especially a family so interconnected.’
Effie bowed her head. ‘It would be in my best interests, indeed, to… govern Mr Thornaby—as a wife or no.’
Author Bio:
Emily Lane writes sweet, clean Regency Romance perfect for fans of Georgette Heyer, Sophia Holloway, and Sophie Irwin. Hearth or Heart, her debut, launches July 13th. By day, Emily is a Management Consultant in the Lifesciences industry - she hopes her novels have just as much chemistry as her job! She lives in Thailand, which would be inconvenient but for the hot weather.
The Bowman Girls is Emily's first Regency romance series, with 3 books currently planned:
Hearth or Heart (out now)
Past or Promise (Late 2026)
Duty or Devotion (Late 2026)
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