And available for pre-order.

“Only the great affection she has for her husband would have sent Maris, Countess of Shelby inside the Reigning Monarchs Society in search of Captain Reynold Durant, who is reneging on the bargain he has struck with the Earl of Kelby. Maris’s relationship with her much older husband may not be the stuff of fairy tales, but her esteem for him and her loyalty to him are unquestionable. Maris understands the desperation that led him to hire Captain Durant’s services, and she is determined to see that the Captain fulfills the agreement for which he has already been paid. Her determination proves strong even when she is confronted by Durant in all his naked insouciance.

Reyn Durant had been desperate himself when he responded to an advertisement in The London List. His sister Virginia was ill, and Reyn needed money to see that she received not only the best medical care but also a home beyond London’s polluted environs where good food and fresh air might increase her chances of survival. Good luck at the gambling tables has given him the means to repay the money Kelby gave him, and he has every intention of doing so. His restlessness and boredom since leaving military life may have led him to participate in the debauchery of London’s most exclusive sex club, but his sense of honor won’t let him serve as stud for Kelby’s countess, no matter if the old man needs an heir to save his estate from a conscienceless nephew. But refusing becomes more difficult once he meets Maris and finds himself inexplicably drawn to her.

Frankly, if an author I trusted less than I trust Maggie Robinson had used this plot, the story line alone would have made me ignore the book. Even though Jo Beverley and Cecilia Grant have proved themselves storytellers gifted enough to overcome my instinctive ick response to the adultery-for-a-greater-good plot, it’s one I prefer to avoid. But I’ve been a Maggie Robinson fan since before she was published, and I know she is an adept writer. Maris and Reyn eventually become winsome characters. Robinson builds layers of complexity into the story, refusing to guild the reality of adultery. Maris’s guilt is real, and Reyn is surprisingly vulnerable beneath the façade of experienced charmer. Watching them become friends as well as lovers made it impossible not to root for their HEA.

Captain Durant’s Countess may not be quite so spectacularly good as is Lord Gray’s List, but it is a worthy addition to a series built on a fascinating premise. Wherever Maggie Robinson goes next with the London List books, I plan to follow. I recommend both books to readers looking for a sizzling romance, a powerful story, and fine writing.”

Evangeline Ramsey was such a delightful character in this book, masquerading as a man in London and trying to run a newspaper while caring for her seriously ill father. She was very intelligent, spunky and yet determined to do whatever it takes to survive and pay off her father‘s gambling debts. I loved how she took advantage of Ben’s bad behavior and used it to solidify the popularity of her newspaper’s gossip section, The London List.

Lord Benton Gray was your typical wealthy rake, who thought he could buy everyone with his money but never forgot his first love, Evangeline. The two of them together were perfect because they butted heads at every opportunity but had such great sexual chemistry that neither of them could keep their hands off each other. This book was hilarious, charming and fun with a fantastic cast of characters that will keep you entertained until the very last page. I can’t wait to read the next one in the series by Maggie Robinson because I am sure that it will be just as wonderful as this one.

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My November book, Lord Gray’s List, revolves around a Regency newspaper that serves as a clearinghouse for gossip, employment and matchmaking. Who better than Lord and Lady Gray to help another couple become as happy as they are?

December 24, 1821

“I don’t like it, Evie,” Lord Benton Gray said to his wife.

“You never like anything if I’ve thought of it first,” Lady Gray replied, spreading letters out on her desk. Well, their desk. Ben had bought a huge new partners desk for the London List’s office since he now owned the newspaper.

But he didn’t own her. Maybe her heart, perhaps, but she had a perfectly good mind of her own. And right now it was whirring with the intricacies of bringing the young Marquess of Portland up to scratch.

He and Miss Fernanda Abernathy would be married by the New Year, or her name was not Evangeline Ramsey Gray.

“Give the poor boy a few more years of freedom,” Ben begged.

“What good did your freedom do you? Courtesan races. Dancing in the nude in graveyards. I ask you,” Evie sniffed with disdain. “No, when Fernanda and Portland arrive, I shall lock them in the storage room. That should do it.”

“Those methods seem awfully crude for a woman of your intellect, Evie.”

“Well, Portland has been awfully slow. He’s known Fernanda since they were in leading strings. She’s turned down sixteen perfectly decent proposals in the past three years. It’s past time, even if a bit of compromise is involved. You’re on your way to pick up her aunt?”

Ben shuddered. As much as Evie would like to take all the credit, the idea for this ruse came from Augusta Abernathy, Fernanda’s indomitable aunt.

“All right then. Give me a kiss. The happy couple should be here any minute, and one look at you will convince Portland we’re up to something.”

Evie was always up to something.
***
Robert Humphrey, Marquess of Portland, threw his body up against the locked door. Nothing happened except a jolting pain from his shoulder to his pinky finger.

“Devil take it! Where is that newspaperwoman? I thought we were here to deliver Christmas baskets to orphans.”

“Well, at least we won’t starve to death. Cook made quite a lot of figgy puddings,” Fernanda replied. It was rather dark in the closet, but she was sure Robert rolled his eyes.

“You seem unnaturally calm, Fern. Did you plan this?” Robert asked. “Saying your aunt had the grippe and your maid the ague and your footman a toothache, and you had nobody to take you to the poor orphans’ party. A plague on you if you did!”

“Why would I do that? I don’t want to spend Christmas Eve in a closet with the likes of you!” True, Fernanda had been a bit suspicious at the sudden illnesses and her aunt’s suggestion she ask Robert to escort her. This entire affair smacked of Aunt Augusta’s manipulation. In a little while the woman herself would probably be pounding on the door and accusing Robert of compromising her favorite niece.

Robert had not compromised her. Robert was all the way over in the far corner. He hadn’t even tried to kiss her.

He hadn’t kissed her in two years. But when he had, he had ruined her completely.

She would never forget the look on his face afterward—the glazed eyes, the slack jaw, the sudden flush of color on his chiseled cheekbones. Yes, she had had a certain effect on him, and he’d been running from her ever since.

“I suppose you think I’ll have to marry you now that we’ve been trapped together.” Robert didn’t sound quite so belligerent.

“Is that a proposal?” Fernanda asked. “If it is, I’ve had better.”

“Why haven’t you married any of your dozen swains?”

“Sixteen,” Fernanda corrected. “I guess I’m hard to please.”

“You’ve always seemed perfectly agreeable to me.”

It was time for her to roll her eyes. “How you flatter me, my lord.”

“If I was ever in the mood to marry, I might not do any better than you. We’ve known each other all our lives.”

“Familiarity breeds contempt.”

“You hold me in contempt?” Robert took a step toward her.

Fernanda’s heart raced just a little. “I didn’t say that.”

“Do you like me, then?”

“You’re all right, I suppose. For a boy.”

“A boy? I’m four and twenty! I’m man enough for any woman.”

“Prove it.”

“What?”

She enjoyed the crack in his voice. “Kiss me. See if you can improve on the last one you gave me. Let’s see—I think it was the occasion of my thirteenth birthday party.”

“It was two years ago, you witch, and I’ve dreamed about it every night since then. I’m not only going to kiss you now, Fern, but kiss you every night from now on. You’re going to marry me.”

Fernanda smiled in the dark. “I am?”

“You are.”

Neither one of them much cared when the closet door opened some time later and Aunt Augusta gave a practiced, ear-splitting shriek.