THE WORK OF ART BY MIMI MATTHEWS
Publication Date: July 23, 2019
Perfectly Proper Press
Paperback & eBook
Genre: Historical Romance
An Uncommon Beauty…
Hidden away in rural Devonshire, Phyllida Satterthwaite has always been considered more odd than beautiful. But in London, her oddity has made her a sensation. Far worse, it’s caught the eye of the sinister Duke of Moreland—a notorious art collector obsessed with acquiring one-of-a-kind treasures. To escape the Duke’s clutches, she’s going to need a little help.
An Unlikely Hero…
Captain Arthur Heywood’s days of heroism are long past. Grievously injured in the Peninsular War, he can no longer walk unaided, let alone shoot a pistol. What use can he possibly be to a damsel in distress? He has nothing left to offer except his good name.
Can a marriage of convenience save Philly from the vengeful duke? Or will life with Arthur put her—and her heart—in more danger than ever?
“In her sixth historical romance, Matthews (The Pug Who Bit Napoleon; A Victorian Lady’s Guide to Fashion and Beauty) weaves suspense and mystery within an absorbing love story. Readers will be hard put to set this one down before the end. Highly recommended to historical romance and/or mystery buffs and especially animal lovers.” – Library Journal, Starred Review
THE WORK of ART by MIMI MATTHEWS
EXCERPT from CHAPTER TWO
Miss Satterthwaite took a seat beside him, carefully situating her bedraggled dog next to her. Once she’d assured herself of the little beast’s comfort, she turned to face him. “I’m sorry I passed you. I wasn’t paying any attention.”
“It’s quite all right.” His gaze drifted over her clothes. “I hardly recognized you myself. You’ve
changed a great deal since this morning.”
She cast a frowning glance downward. “Now I’m in London, I’m required to dress well even for a short walk with my dogs. It’s all rather a nuisance.”
“Is this your uncle’s directive?”
“In a manner of speaking. He’s put me under the care of his sister, Mrs. Vale. She’s chosen all
my clothes while I’m here in town. If I don’t wear them, she falls into a state.”
“I see.”
She tugged at the braiding on her spencer. “I feel rather foolish.”
“You look very well, Miss Satterthwaite.”
“I wasn’t fishing for a compliment, sir.”
“Of course not.” Arthur’s gloved hand tightened reflexively on his cane. He’d never been adept at casual conversation, but since he’d come back from the war, he found even the simplest of exchanges to be agonizingly difficult. He didn’t know why he was subjecting himself to it except that, for the past several days, he’d thought of little else but Phyllida Satterthwaite and her quiet act of kindness toward him.
“I know I shouldn’t complain,” she said. “They’re lovely clothes. Any other lady would be happy to have them. I’m really…very grateful…for my uncle’s generosity.”
“It is not the best position to be in,” Arthur said after a long pause. “Being grateful, that is.”
“No. It most definitely isn’t.” And with a heartfelt sigh, she looked out across the park.
Her three dogs were playing on the grass under the careful supervision of the much put-upon maid. Arthur wondered what Miss Satterthwaite was thinking about as she looked at them. It occurred to him, quite suddenly, that she might be homesick. “Is this your first visit to London?”
“I confess it is. Up until two weeks ago, I’d never left Devonshire except for twice accompanying my grandfather to Bath so he might take the cure.”
“My estate in Somersetshire is very near Bath.”
“Is it?” She looked at him with renewed interest. “I didn’t know you were from that part of the world, sir. Have you ever had occasion to go into Devonshire?”
“Many times. Whereabouts are you from?”
“A small village called Fox Cross. It’s near Dartmoor.”
“Ah, yes. I’ve been there.”
Her eyes brightened, and then she smiled. “Have you?”
Arthur was momentarily transfixed. Never in his life had he encountered a woman with so much genuine warmth in her expression. “In my younger days. My brother and I stopped off there once on the way to visit family friends in Cornwall.”
“I wonder if… Is it possible you might remember my grandfather? Sir Charles of Satterthwaite Court?”
“I fear I don’t. I was only a boy then. My father may well have known him. I’ll ask him in my next letter, if you like.”
She beamed. “I’d be so very much obliged to you.”
It wasn’t a very bright day—indeed there was scarcely a patch of blue in the cloudy sky—but somehow what little light there was seemed to shimmer in the red highlights of her hair
and illuminate her skin in a soft, golden glow. It wasn’t only her expression that exuded warmth but the entirety of her person.
Arthur tried not to stare.
He failed miserably.
“Were you always in your grandparents’ care?” he asked.
“My whole life.”
“And your parents…?”
“My father was my grandparents’ only child, and my mother was the daughter of a widowed vicar in Fox Cross. My grandparents arranged the match between them. They hoped my mother would settle my father. He was rather wild, you see.” A slight frown marred her brow. It was quickly dispelled. “My mother was said to have been one of the loveliest ladies in Devonshire, and the closest thing in the West Country to a living saint. She was steady and kind. A paragon, really.”
“You didn’t know her?”
“No. I didn’t know either of my parents. My mother died bringing me into the world, and my father died in a carriage accident one week later.”
“So, your grandparents brought you up as their own.”
“Yes. Well…not quite as their own, for they vowed they would never raise another child as they had my father. They’d spoiled and indulged him, which must have been quite natural since he was their only child, but in time they grew to believe it was the root of all his wildness. So, though they loved me, they dealt with me very strictly. There were no balls or assemblies. No visits to town. We lived an exceedingly isolated life.”
“It sounds a grim existence.”
“Oh no. I had my pets about me for company. And there were villagers and tenants to visit. Decent, hardworking people. Friends I’ve had my entire life. I wasn’t ever lonely.”
“Did you never yearn to venture farther? To see something of the world?”
“I never thought of it. It seemed such an impossibility—and not suited to my temperament at all. And yet....when my uncle came to Satterthwaite Court and told me I must return to London with him, I climbed into his coach and left Fox Cross without a word of protest.” She tugged absently at her glove. “Do you think I did right, Captain Heywood?”
He had an overwhelming impulse to cover her anxious hands with his own. He didn’t act on it. “I beg your pardon, did you not want to come to London, Miss Satterthwaite?”
“No, but I very much wanted to do what was right. What was expected of me.”
“Have you no other family that you could go to?”
“I have no one.” She looked out at her dogs for several seconds. “What a maudlin thing to say. Pray forgive me. I don’t mean to sound as if I’m blue-deviled. I really have a great deal to be…to be…”
“Grateful for?” he suggested.
A hint of a smile edged her soft mouth. “Yes. Exactly.”
About the Author
USA Today bestselling author Mimi Matthews (A Victorian Lady’s Guide to Fashion and Beauty, The Matrimonial Advertisement) writes both historical non-fiction and traditional historical romances set in Victorian England. Her articles on nineteenth century history have been published on various academic and history sites, including the Victorian Web and the Journal of Victorian Culture, and are also syndicated weekly at BUST Magazine. In her other life, Mimi is an attorney. She resides in California with her family, which includes an Andalusian dressage horse, two Shelties, and two Siamese cats.
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