Taming the Shrew

By Cari Hislop

The wealthy Miss Juliana Browne has a number of problems; she’s twenty-five, her hair is red, she’s on the shelf, life is hateful and her only known admirer is Hervey De Vere, a freckled orange haired fortune hunter who looks eighteen. After three years of continuous snubs, he’s still chasing her with endless offers of gallantry and proposals of marriage. When Juliana’s mother suggests she solve her problems by marrying the said Hervey, Juliana is revolted until her mother reveals that Hervey has a reputation as a charming, attentive and discreet lover. Assured that her married friends will turn green with envy Juliana impulsively weds the man. She quickly discovers her boyish looking husband is more than man enough to tame her contrary heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cari Hislop
• Release date: Jul 31, 2009
• ISBN: 9781452312255

Cari Hislop

I’m an American married to an adorable English Goblin who makes me laugh every day. I’m an artist with a degree in fashion design, but I’ve always been a story teller. Stories are everywhere; in every scent, every glimpse out of the corner of the eye. The most magical moments of my life have been born of ‘what if?’.I’ve been making up stories as long as I can remember, but I was ten before I 'wrote' my first story. It was a romance - the young girl’s parents are killed by a plane falling on their house so of course she moves to England. Don’t ask me where she got the money or the passport!I knew I wanted to grow up to be an author. All my artistic talents converge on my favorite subject: people. I find both individuals and general humanity endlessly fascinating.My genre: Regency romances (historical romances set in late Georgian England)Rated: PG13 (PG13 as in 1985)Style: Each of my stories tend to have their own humor depending on the character's personalities, but they always make me laugh. My plots are character driven and my stories evolve with the characters. Other than the hero and heroine somehow ending up together at the end, I never know what will really happen in the story until it happens.Note: After much deliberation I decided to use English spelling rather than American English spelling in my stories. This will sadly irritate some people, but the USA is the only country to use American spelling while the rest of the English speaking world uses English spelling.I don't think of my books as a series, but all my characters inhabit the same Regency Universe. Most of the main characters are either related or know of each other so my stories often intertwine.If you ever have any questions about my stories or would like to receive an e-mail to let you know I've finished a book please e-mail me at... [e-mail] Reading!Cari Hislop

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Taming the Shrew

Copyright 2008 Cari Hislop

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Taming the Shrew

Cari Hislop

Chapter 1

Feb 9th 1814

Clutching her folded fan like a knife she wished to drive into someone’s heart, Miss Juliana Browne stormed into her house with bloodshot eyes, her lips quivering with rage. Mystical animals stuck out their wooden tongues as they crawled up the staircase and onto the first floor landing where family portraits stared with indifference as their progeny marched past. Down a corridor and up a short flight of stairs she rudely opened her mother’s chamber door without knocking and slammed it behind her with a ferocious scream. Her eyes slowly focused on the serene woman lying on a Recamier daybed staring at the ceiling with a soft unnatural smile, You’re back.

I want to die!

Your cousin would inherit.

I don’t care… Juliana threw her reticule on the floor, …I want to die. Running across the room she dropped to her knees beside the smiling woman and sobbed against her mother’s unresponsive arm.

Why?

Life is hateful. The angry words were heavy with exasperation. I wouldn’t want to die if I was happy would I?

I don’t know. Would you?

Of course I wouldn’t, I’d have something to live for wouldn’t I?

Would you?

It was a rhetorical question and I’ve had the worst day, ever. The last word was a satanic growl.

Why?

No one likes me. Her heartbroken sobs were met with a placid sigh. I woke and the sun was shining. It was going to be a good day. I went to Ackerman’s to buy a print, and one of those stupid ugly de Vere’s insulted me in the most despicable manner, and the whole shop laughed as I left. I thought visiting with four school friends would cheer me up, but I was forgotten as soon as they handed me a cup of tea. Juliana sat up and threw her fan into the fire. The cursed harpies talked about nothing, but their latest brats and the vile joys of marriage. My face nearly burst into flames when they started arguing which of them had the better lover. When they got up to leave they finally noticed I was sitting there and they had the affront to scold me for not reminding them a virgin was present. I hate them. I never want to see the horrid cows again. I could be married and have children if men weren’t so hateful and I didn’t have red hair. The reclining woman continued to smile peacefully at the ceiling as her child’s wrath rippled through her body. I want to be married. I’m tired of people talking down to me like I’m a child because I haven’t shared some stupid man’s bed. I’m sick of it. I want a husband! Another scream rent the air without causing the least distress to Mrs Browne.

Marry Hervey de Vere…

Hervey de Vere? Are you mad? He’s an ugly fortune hunter. I’m sure he has me followed. He appears everywhere I go like a curse and smiles at me with that sickly devoted look that makes me want to claw out his eyes.

He wants you. Marry him.

I don’t cursed care what he wants. As if seeing him outside the chocolate shop this morning wasn’t bad enough, the idiot made a point of embarrassing me in my box at the playhouse this evening. I thought a funny play would cheer me up. The whole theatre stared and laughed as someone called me Medusa from across the pit. I hate them all! A Satanic scream of anger was followed by another sob. As if I hadn’t had the worst day of my life the Hervey creature was waiting near my carriage as I tried to escape. Her face scrunched up as she mimicked her unwanted admirer, May I help you in Miss Browne? May I see you home? Will you marry me? I told him he could jump into the Thames and drink till he sank.

I’d marry him. He has a reputation.

Juliana rolled her eyes and glared at her mother knowing that if she wanted more information she’d have to ask for it. A reputation for what?

As a lover.

Hervey de Vere has a reputation as a lover? Don’t make me sick. What woman would want a boyish looking man with orange hair as a lover?

He’s charming, attentive, and very discreet.

Hervey de Vere is as charming as a three legged goat.

They’ll turn green.

Who will?

Your school friends…Town tabbies...

Really? Juliana wiped her snotty nose and tears on her mother’s night gown as the possibility of making the hated ton jealous eased the pain. But my babies might look like him; I don’t want children with orange hair.

Why not?

Because it’s ugly.

I like it.

Well he won’t marry you, you’re old and you stink like laudanum.

Pity.

Juliana closed her eyes as the awful possibility of marrying her despised admirer crept into her broken heart. But I loathe him.

I loathed your father.

Yes and look what happened, he shot himself in the foot trying to defend his mistress and bled to death. I suppose I could have the creature come to me after I put out the lights. I could pretend he was handsome or someone else. Oh Mamma, I’m sick to death of being Miss Browne. I want to be Mrs something or other. I want a lover. I want babies so I know what my stupid friends are talking about.

Marry Hervey.

I can’t marry him; he takes off his hat and all I see is orange.

Invite him for tea. Look at him.

Tea? Juliana sniffed back her tears. That’s a good idea, but everyone will laugh at us. They’ll call us Mr and Mrs Red.

Who cares?

I do! It hurts my feelings. Why do people have to be so horrid?

For amusement.

That’s very helpful; thank you for supporting me in my distress.

I’m tired, go write an invite. I need to rest.

All you do is rest when you’re not consulting that young doctor. I think he’s in love with himself. Every time I see him he’s looking in a mirror. What could he possibly need to visit with you for an hour every week behind a locked door for? Her mother merely smiled and waved her out of the room.

Chapter 2

The honourable Hervey de Vere, ninth son of the impoverished Baron de Vere, was oblivious to the cheerful noise engulfing his breakfast table