Product Description

Lady Calandra should have suitors beating down her door. But her overprotective brother, the Duke of Rochford, has managed to scare off every suitable gentleman. Every man except the mysterious Earl of Bromwell, that is. Callie finds herself drawn to the enigmatic earl, despite her brother's almost violent protestations.

In defiance of her brother's wishes, Callie devises a plan to see Bromwell again, enlisting the help of matchmaker Francesca Haughston. But when shadowy secrets about the duke and the earl come to light, it may be too late for Callie to see that she's walked straight into a trap.…

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #117722 in Books
• Published on: 2008-09-01
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• 384 pages

Features

• ISBN13: 9780373773084
• Condition: NEW
• Notes: Brand New from Publisher. No Remainder Mark.
• Click here to view our Condition Guide and Shipping Prices

From Publishers Weekly
In Camp's delightful latest regency Matchmakers novel, the unmatched is beautiful 23-year-old Lady Calandra, whose overprotective brother and guardian, the formidable duke of Rochford, has intimidated all comers. When Callie is rescued, at a masked ball, from a drunken partygoer's unwanted advances, her hero turns out to be the mysterious earl of Bromwell, an enemy of Callie's brother. Although Rochford orders Bromwell and Callie to stay away from each other, Callie grabs the reins and enlists the help of matchmaker Lady Francesca Houghston. Francesca is torn, however, because she knows the source of enmity between the two men, which neither will speak of. Meanwhile, Bromwell's twice-married older sister, the Lady Daphne, returns to society and plots to destroy Callie's reputation (because Rochford had refused to marry Daphne years earlier). Camp is firmly at home here, enlivening the romantic quest between her engaging lovers with a set of believable and colorful secondaries. (Sept.)
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About the Author
Candace Camp cannot remember a time when she was not interested in creating stories. Born into a newspaper family----her mother had been a reporter and her father was the business manager of the Amarillo, Tx., newspaper---some of Candace's earliest memories are of making up stories which she played out on the floor of their den with whatever objects were handy.  She is currently the author of over 60 novels, including the bestselling Regency romances The Courtship Dance, The Wedding Challenge and The Bridal Quest.  She is currently writing her first trilogy for Pocket Books, set on the fictional English estate of Willowmere.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Lady Odelia Pencully's birthday ball was the event of the Season—even though the Season had not yet begun. Not to have been invited was a cause for deep social embarrassment. To have been invited and not attend was unthinkable.

Either by blood or by birth, Lady Pencully was related to half the most powerful and wealthy families in England. The daughter of a duke and a countess by marriage, she was a pillar of Society, and it was rare that anyone dared cross her. During her heyday, she had ruled over the ton as she did her family, with an acid tongue and an iron will, and even though she had, with age, remained more and more at her country estate, rarely coming to London even for the Season, she was still a force to be reckoned with. A prodigious correspondent, she kept up to date with the latest scandals and news, and was never averse to dashing off a note to anyone whom she felt needed the benefit of her advice.

So this year, when she announced that she would celebrate her eighty-fifth year of life with a grand ball, it immediately became the one event that no one of any social standing or pretenses thereof could risk missing, even if it was in London in January, the most unfashionable and difficult time of the year. Neither snow nor cold nor the difficulties of opening up a town house for a brief visit could hold back the ladies of the ton, who comforted themselves with the fact that at least it would not be true, as it usually was in January, that no one would be in town, since everyone who mattered would be coming to Lady Odelia's party.

Among those who drove into London from their country estates was the Duke of Rochford, along with his sister, Lady Calandra, and their grandmother, the dowager Duchess of Rochford. The duke, one of the rare few who would have dared to refuse Lady Odelia, had been disinclined to do so. He was, after all, her great-nephew, and he was a man who believed in carrying out his family responsibilities. Besides, there was business he needed to attend to in London.

The dowager duchess had come because, while she had never really liked her late husband's older sister, Lady Pencully was one of the few people left of their generation—though, the duchess was careful to point out, Lady Pencully was a number of years older than she—and was, moreover, one of the even fewer number of women whom the duchess considered of equal standing. Lady Odelia was, quite simply, one of the duchess's set, despite Odelia's sometimes rather shocking lack of manners.

Of the three in the carriage waiting in the long line of carriages creeping along Cavendish Crescent toward Lady Pencully's door, only the youngest, Lady Calandra, was looking forward with eagerness to the evening.

At twenty-three years of age, Callie, as she was known to those close to her, had been out for five years, so a London ball, especially one given by an octogenarian relative, would not normally have been cause for excitement. However, she had just spent several long months at the Lilles family country estate, Marcastle, months made even longer and drearier by an inordinate number of drab rainy days and the constant presence of her grandmother.

In the usual way of things, her grandmother was accustomed to residing a good part of the year in her home in Bath, happily reigning over the slow and genteel social scene of that community, and only occasionally, particularly during the Season, coming up to London to make sure that her granddaughter was conducting herself properly.

However, at the end of the last Season, the dowager duchess had decided that it was well past time for Lady Calandra to be married, and she had taken it as her primary occupation to get the girl engaged—to the proper sort of gentleman, of course. To that end, she had sacrificed her usual winter course in Bath for the cold drafts of the historic family estate in Norfolk.

Callie, therefore, had spent the last few months cooped up by the inclement weather, listening to the old lady's strictures on her behavior, admonitions of her duty to marry, and opinions regarding the suitability of the various peers of the realm.

As a result, the prospect of a real ball, with dancing, friends, gossip and music, set her stomach fluttering in anticipation. To make it even more interesting in Callie's opinion, Lady Odelia's party was a masquerade ball. This fact had not only allowed Callie the added fun of devising a costume, it also provided the evening with an intriguing air of mystery.

She had, after much careful consideration and consultation with her seamstress, settled on the guise of a woman of the reign of Henry VIII. Not only did the close-fitting Tudor cap look quite fetching on her, but the deep crimson color of the gown was a perfect foil for her black curls and fair skin—and a welcome change from the usual white to which an unmarried young woman such as herself was limited.

Callie glanced across the carriage at her brother. Rochford, naturally, had eschewed any disguise, wearing his usual elegant black evening suit and white shirt, with a crisp, perfectly tied white cravat, his only concession to the evening a black half mask worn across his eyes. With his dark good looks, of course, he still looked sufficiently romantic and faintly sinister enough to have most of the ladies at the ball gazing in his direction and sighing.

He caught Callie's glance and smiled affectionately at her. "Happy at the thought of dancing again, Callie?"

She smiled back at him. Others might find her older brother a trifle distant and cool, even forbidding, but she knew that he was not at all cold. He was merely reserved and rather slow to warm to people. Callie understood his manner; she, too, had learned that when one was a duke, or even a duke's sister, any number of people wanted to ingratiate themselves with one not for friendship, but for the social and monetary benefits they hoped to receive. She suspected that Sinclair had had even more bitter experience with this phenomenon than she, for he had come into his title and wealth at a young age, and had not had the protection and guidance of an older brother.

Their father had died when Callie was only five, and their mother, a sweet woman with a perpetual air of sadness, had gone to her grave nine years later, still mourning their father. Her brother was Callie's only real family, except, of course, for her grandmother. Sinclair, fifteen years older than Callie, had assumed the role of guardian as well as brother, and as a result, he had been more like a young, indulgent father to her than a brother. She suspected that one of the reasons he had been willing to come to London for their great-aunt's party had been because he knew how much she herself would enjoy it.

"Indeed, I am looking forward to it," she answered him now. "I don't believe that I have danced since Irene and Gideon's wedding."

It was well known among Lady Calandra's family and friends that she was an active sort, preferring a ride or a brisk walk through the country to sitting with her needlework beside the fire, and even by the end of the Season, she never tired of dancing.

"There was Christmas," the duke pointed out, a twinkle in his eye.

Callie rolled her eyes. "Dancing with one's brother while Grandmother's companion plays the piano does not count."

"It has been a dull winter," Rochford admitted. "We shall go to Dancy Park soon, I promise."

Callie smiled. "It will be wonderful to see Constance and Dominic again. Her letters have been brimming over with happiness, now that she is in the family way."

"Really, Calandra, that is hardly the sort of thing one mentions to a gentleman," the duchess commented.

"It's only Sinclair," Callie pointed out mildly, suppressing a sigh. She was well-used to her grandmother's strict views of appropriate behavior, and she did her best not to offend the woman, but after three months of the duchess's lectures, Callie's nerves were beginning to wear thin.

"Yes," Rochford agreed with a grin for his sister. "It is only I, and I am well aware of Callie's scapegrace ways."

"It is all very well for you to laugh," his grandmother retorted. "But a lady of Callie's station must always act with the greatest discretion. Especially one who is not yet married. A gentleman does not choose a bride who does not conduct herself appropriately."

Rochford's face assumed that expression of cool hauteur that Callie referred to as his "duke's face" as he said, "There is a gentleman who would dare to presume to call Calandra indiscreet?"

"Of course not," the duchess replied quickly. "But when one is seeking a husband, one must be especially careful about everything one says or does."

"Are you seeking a husband, Callie?" Rochford asked now, turning to his sister with a quizzical glance. "I was not aware."

"No, I am not," Callie told him flatly.

"Of course you are," her grandmother contradicted. "An unmarried woman is always seeking a husband, whether she admits to it or not. You are no longer a young girl in her first Season, my dear. You are twenty-three, and nearly every girl who made her come-out the same season as you has gotten engaged—even that moon-faced daughter of Lord Thripp's."

"To an 'Irish earl with more horses than prospects'?" Callie asked. "That is what you called him last week."

"Of course I would expect a far better husband than that for you," her grandmother retorted. "But it is vexing beyond belief that that chit should have become engaged before you."

"Callie has plenty of time for finding a husband," Rochford told his grandmother carelessly. "And I can assure you that there are any number of men who would ask me for her hand if they had the slightest encouragement."

"Which, I might point out, you never give anyone," the duchess put in tartly.

The duke's eyebrows sailed upward. "Surely, Grandmother, you would not have me allow roués and fortune hunters to court Calandra."

"Of course not. Pray do not act obtuse." The dowager countess was one of the few who did not stand in awe of Rochford, and she rarely hesitated to gi...

Customer Reviews

Great, but bring on Francesca and Rochford's story!
Camp's Matchmakers series has been great reading from start to finish. While I thoroughly enjoyed "The Wedding Challenge" Callie and Brom's characters were no where near as interesting and as spellbinding as the secondary characters of Rochford and Francesca. As far as romance novels go, it's fairly standard in its plot line. As a youngish heroine, Callie's "impetuousness" grates on the nerves a little, and Brom lacked backbone, but their story was light hearted and easy to love. There were some cute plot twists thrown in, but for the most part I found myself wanting Callie and Brom to get on with it so I could get back to reading about Rochford and Callie. Finally at the end of this novel we get some glimpse into the tension that has been building for the past three books and frankly February can't come soon enough!! I can't wait for "The Courtship Dance" to FINALLY get the Francesca and Rochford story that we have all been waiting for!!

delightful Matchmaker Regency romance
Although she is already twenty-three years old and many of her peers proclaim she is on the shelf, Lady Calandra Lilles is not rushing out to find a husband. None of her wannabe suitors have been able to face her protector, her unapproachable brother, the Duke of Rochford.

At a masquerade ball, the Earl of Bromwell dances with her and for the first time in a long time she feels an attraction, but assumes he will turn into a coward when he meets her sibling. Instead to her shock, he shows his animosity towards Rochford. Intrigued by the reactions of the two men, Callie is further stunned when her brother orders her to never see Bromwell again; she asks why but he offers no explanation. Not afraid of her sibling, Callie obtains the help of friend Lady Francesca Haughston so that she can continue to see Brom although she knows someday a reckoning between her and the two men in her life will occur.

The keys to the third delightful Matchmaker Regency romance (see THE MARRIAGE WAGER and THE BRIDAL QUEST) are once again the strong support cast and the hostile relationship between the two men the heroine loves. The story line contains mystery elements involving Callie's need to know why her brother and her beloved are such loathing enemies. Fans will relish Candace Camp's terrific historical as revenge appears to trump love.

Harriet Klausner

I just don't get it! How am I the only one to see these things?
*shaking head* HOW can I be the only one to spot such rediculous writing? Writing that makes me laugh at the most innapropriate times! I should not be laughing during sex scenes!

So, first, as usual, since I am not the first (by far) to review this book, I will save the plot recap.

Second, I will say that I agree with the other reviewer that mentioned that the sex scenes were disjointed and seemed thrown in there for the sake of having them. There was also a LOT of repetition in the descriptions. Almost as if the second scene was written first and then when she went back to add the first scene she just cut and pasted and re-worded it.

Thirdly... well, let me just cull some phrases from the book, shall I?

"And when she remembered the way he had kissed her, her loins were flooded again with heat."

"She found it difficult to think of anything but the soft, swollen tingling of her lips or the heavy achy feel of her breasts...or the insistent throbbing deep within her loins."

"Her own body was a stranger to her - her loins throbbing, and a hot damp ache growing between her legs..."

"It geysered up, shooting throughout her body, turning her skin to flame, and settled in a hot, aching mass deep in her abdomen"

"Callie thought of sleeping in one of Brom's shirts, and her loins prickled with desire."

"His body was pulsatingly aware of her hand upon his arm, now burning where it touched."

"Callie quivered beneath his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips."

"With each movement Callie felt desire curl and knot within her, her loins melting, turning her hot and liquid."

"She could feel the moisture gathering between her legs, the tender flesh throbbing."

"Callie felt as if every part of her was on fire, and the molten center of that flame lay deep in her abdomen, where she pulsed and burned with desperate need."

Maybe I object to the use of the word "loins" so much, as it makes me think of beef. Maybe all the quivering, throbbing and pulsating just makes me picture them doing a jig or being shocked or something. Maybe all the flames and liquifying type descriptions make me think of the Simpson's ("all I wanted was some time with my wife, and now the floor is made of lava"). I don't know. But the scenes are so filled with descriptions like these that I find myself laughing when I should be most interested.

I've read a few of her books. They're not usually this bad. There's always some quivering going on there, but this book was just over the top. Also, Callie was whiny, immature, and threw WAAAaay too many tantrums. Brom wasn't so bad except in his determined belief to not see the obvious (c'mon, I have siblings. No matter how much you love them you would never assume that they were telling the truth when their story didn't make any sense).

The only things that kept this from being 1 star was that there was no force (a la Catherine Coulter), and the secondary characters were pretty decent.

Please, people! Is this really what books have come to? Where are all the good authors? I'd love to find some that don't make me slap my forehead so much that I give myself a bruise.