Delilah Marvelle - Once Upon a Scandal

Dear Reader,

I have always wanted to create a grittier version of a fairy tale similar to what the Grimm Brothers explored. I wanted to write a real-life fairy tale that had every possible wrenching emotion in it, but without any of that easy-way-out magic. So I set about creating a very twisted version of Cinderella. Only instead of making the heroine Cinderella, I wanted the hero to be Cinderella. I wanted the prince to be wildly romantic and kind and forever looking for his Princess Charming the way Cinderella had. So I gave him a big heart and, introduced him to a stepmother who never liked him and, in turn, forced him to become a servant of a different sort. I then balanced his hardship by giving him a charming stepsister who absolutely adores him and who sought to protect him at every turn. Instead of a glass slipper, I thought a ruby ring would best unfold my fairy tale.

Now, as much as I adore England and its history, I have always wanted to set a story in beautiful Venice. So I started digging into its fascinating history and uncovered the cicisbeo (also known as Cavalier Servente ). For those of you who don’t know what a cicisbeo is, it was a practice in Italy amongst the nobility in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries that allowed a married woman to keep a man, whom her husband agreed for her to have during their marriage, for a specified amount of time. It is said Lord Byron himself was a cicisbeo for a period of time to the married Contessa Teresa Gamba Guiccioli and that her husband was known to boast about it. Although scholars will argue as to whether a cicisbeo was also a lover to the married woman he served (some say yes, some say no), the lines blur enough for the story to swing either way. I’ll leave you, dearest reader, to figure out on your own which way I’m swinging.

Much love,

Delilah Marvelle

DELILAH MARVELLEloves to write historical romance with scandalous twists she unearths from history itself. She spent her youth studying various languages, reading voraciously and playing the pianoforte. She confesses that here ends the extent of her gentle breeding. She was a naughty child who was forever torturing her parents with countless adventures that they did not deem respectable. Confined to her room on many occasions due to these misadventures, she discovered the quill and its amazing power. Soon, to the dismay of her parents, she rather enjoyed being confined to her room. And so her writing continues. She is a two-time Golden Heart Finalist, an RT Book Reviews Reviewer’s Choice Nominee and a double finalist in the Bookseller’s Best Award. You can visit her at her website at www.DelilahMarvelle.com or visit her blog, which explores the naughtier side of history, at www.DelilahMarvelle.blogspot.com.

Don’t miss the Scandal series!

Prelude to a Scandal May 2012

Once Upon a Scandal June 2012

The Perfect Scandal July 2012

Delilah Marvelle

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For my mother, Urszula,

who planted sweeping romantic notions in my head

long before I really knew what a romantic notion

even was. I miss you and love you and I know that

I will see you again when I get to the other side.

A true gentleman will declare himself with a view toward matrimony, whilst a true libertine will declare himself with a view toward scandal. Although a lady may think she can differentiate between who is the gentleman and who is the libertine, at times, it may prove to be impossible.

How To Avoid a Scandal , Author Unknown

Bath, England, August 21, 1824

Late afternoon

The Linford country estate

ALTHOUGH JONATHAN Pierce Thatcher, Viscount Remington, was all but nineteen, and therefore in the eyes of society very much a man, a part of his soul had always secretly remained twelve years old. It was the part of his soul that still believed in absurd notions such as courtly love, magic and destiny. Though he knew magic and destiny had no place in the head of a real man as was defined by the real world, for him, magic and destiny were but alternate words for hope, and no one could ever convince him that hope did not exist. For it did.

And right now, in the setting of a sprawling garden in fading bloom and dwindling sunlight, hope ardently whispered to him that his time for love had finally come. It whispered that the young woman in the embroidered, flowing white gown and gathered blond curls who lingered in boredom beside her governess in the shade of her orchid parasol was going to change his life forever. If only he could convince her to change his life forever.

Jonathan refrained from mouthing Lady Victoria’s name in reverence or staring at her through the demure crowd of chattering house guests dividing them. He had almost kissed Grayson’s left boot for inviting him to the Linford house party. Almost.

Being in close quarters with Victoria over these next two weeks was going to ensure she was finally his in both name and heart. He simply needed to be mindful of the fact that the host was none other than her father, the ever brow-creased Earl of Linford, who was all too easily riled into shouting fits whenever anything displeased him. Fortunately, the gruff man liked Jonathan and often boasted that he was but another son.

Aside from his year-long acquaintance with Victoria, something far more unearthly drew him to her. There was an unspoken depth within those jade eyes that went beyond her seventeen years. Even as she spoke to him in that witty, self-assured manner that announced she needed no one and most certainly not him, never once had she duped him. He could tell that deep inside, she was an even greater romantic than him. She simply chose to deny it.

Veering toward his friend Grayson, Jonathan made sure his lips and his words were shielded from the men and women indulging in all the fruit, biscuits and cakes that had been lavishly piled onto silver trays and set upon tables around the garden.

“When should I declare myself?” he ventured. “Before I leave? Or upon my return from Venice?”

Grayson picked up the remaining sliver of Banbury cake from his porcelain plate and shoved it into his mouth. As he heartily chewed, he shook his dark blond head, his eyes darting across the length of the garden toward Victoria. “I would never condone rushing—” he said, in between several chews “—but given your predicament, don’t wait. Based on my cousin’s dowry alone, half of Europe is already lining up at my uncle’s door.”

Jonathan half nodded, his stomach clenching at the thought. “I only hope to God she feels the same.”

Grayson sighed and set his empty plate on the corner of the linen-covered table beside them. “Whatever you do, Remington, don’t be a sop and tell her that you love her.”