Fans of Eloisa James & Julia Quinn discussion
Monday Puzzler
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November 27: A Hero By Any Other Name, or A Heroine’s Revenge
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ooh i have not read this either. but i am intrigued!
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Oooooo! I like it so far! I’m very interested- but have no idea
I like this sneaky heroine! No idea of the book though.
I'm certain I know this one. I'll be kicking myself when the title is revealed.
Phoenix77 wrote: "I'm certain I know this one. I'll be kicking myself when the title is revealed."Same^^
This sounds familiar to me, but I can't place it.
This is so familiar. Probably from 4 years past... I know I read it.
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I love an author who can take a classic trope and give it a new twist. This author did that throughout this series, but this one is my favorite.
When he discovered the hole in his consciousness where his own name ought to be, the woman stared at him, seeming as bemused as he. From the neck up she looked like a lady, a young lady, with reddish hair arranged neatly, if not fashionably, and pinned up on top. This proper coiffeur framed a strong face with high cheekbones, gray eyes, a straight nose, and a wide mouth.
Propriety ended at the neck. Her only garment was a linen shift ending above the knees. That was it. Not a stitch more. And since he had no idea who he was, where he was, or why, the presence of a lady so garbed explained everything. Obviously he was asleep. The scanty chemise was less diaphanous than the undergarments favored by women who might be expected to invade his dreams, but it did reveal long and shapely legs and he was quite partial to long legs. How unfair that in such a promising dream his head continued to ache. A steady pounding in his brain spoiled the erotic possibilities of this illusory encounter.
Then she began to speak and his headache worsened. She claimed to know him—that made sense. else would they be together in this place, each so woefully underdressed? Her face seemed faintly familiar, like that of a slight acquaintance encountered out of his or her usual sphere, whose name one cannot place. But any illusion of sleep was shattered when she flung herself at him. She was a tall woman, and strong, and her fierce embrace almost knocked him down, proving their corporeal reality beyond doubt.
He drew back in alarm, fearing she might be deranged, an impression strengthened by her next claim.
Betrothed? They were betrothed? He might have forgotten his identity, but instinct revolted at the notion of impending matrimony.
"Can you have forgotten the sweet moment when I promised to be yours?" she cried.
Good God. Could he possibly be the kind of man who went in for sweet moments?
"I can't remember anything else, either. Why don't you remind me? And you can start by telling me my own name." Surely that would recall his wits.
And then he knew. Perhaps he had, in a moment of madness, agreed to wed this demented female. But of one thing he was sure, to the very depths of his being. His name was not False Name.
"I don't believe it," he said. "I cannot be named False Last Name."
Continuing in dramatic vein she wrung her hands before her bosom. "You are indeed my False First Name!" Then her expression changed to one of horror. "Unless you lied to me! But that cannot be so. When we met you were staying with the vicar."
"What was I doing there?"
"Studying for the church."
He felt on firmer ground. "No," he said. "I am not going to be a clergyman. "
"Of course you are. You are a most pious man with a promising career before you. "
"Huh? Then what on earth am I doing in this benighted place?" He looked around at a landscape of steep hills, scraggly grass, low shrubs, few trees, frequent crags, and no human habitation in view, aside from the rough cottage in whose shadow they stood. "At a guess I'd say we are on the Yorkshire moors, suitable launching point for a career in the church."
"I will explain everything later. We must leave before our attacker returns. Unfortunately he took all our possessions as well as," she added with a blush, "most of our clothing."
He frowned. “Why would the thief return if he already has everything?”
She sounded a little irritable. "Because it wasn't just a common robbery. I was kidnapped and brought to this place. My abductor shut me in the attic of the cottage and said he'd come back later. "
His head ached even worse. "Let me get this straight, er, what did you say your name is? Heroine?"
"Heroine," she said in a resentful tone. "Heroine Last Name."
She actually dropped a curtsey which he could have sworn was ironic. Why on earth? She could hardly blame him for forgetting her name when he didn't even remember his own. Although Heroine Last Name chimed a familiar note in his brain. Unlike False Name.
"A man kidnapped you, Heroine."
"Yes."
"And brought you here?"
"Yes."
"How did I get here?"
"I don't know, but I think you must have followed us and come to rescue me. Then the villain knocked you down and stole your horse and your clothes." And the blasted woman flung her arms around him again. "Thank you, my dearest False First Name. You are a hero!"
Some hero, managing to end up half-naked, horseless, and no doubt penniless too. He felt for his pockets and found none. The snug cut of his breeches didn't allow for such a convenience.
Heroine heaved an inward sigh of relief when Hero stopped asking questions and agreed to enter the cottage in search of water. Inventing "False Name's" background was going to be a
challenge. She knew next to nothing about the workings of the Church of England. This was the trouble about coming up with a lie without time to plan ahead. She wished she'd made him a prospective East India Company clerk instead. Thank the Lord, she could claim ignorance of the path that had brought him to this place.
It astonished her that he managed to reek of arrogance, even under circumstances which should have reduced the proudest man to a proper sense of humility. The way he'd accused her of no sense reminded her of his officious opinions, used to depress those who didn't live up to his standards. He didn't like his name, that was for certain. Too bad, she thought smugly. She had no idea how long he would remain ignorant of his true identity. She hoped for her sake it would be long enough to keep his escort to Mrs. S. 's house, and for his that it wouldn't be much longer than that. In the meantime Hero, the second coming of Beau Brummell, was going to live as Mr. False Name.