A Suitable Gentleman

By Sara Bennett

A Regency Novella. Clarinda's humdrum life in fashionable Bath becomes a lot more exciting when James Quentin steps into it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sara Bennett
• Release date: Jul 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9780648591191

Sara Bennett

Sara Bennett has always had an interest in history, and to survive a series of mind-numbing jobs, she turned to writing historical romance. She lives in an old house, with her husband and animals too numerous to mention, in the state of Victoria, Australia, where she tries to keep the house and garden tidy, but rarely succeeds—she'd rather be writing or reading.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Asharp breeze tossed the simple cambric skirts of the petite lady walking along George Street, threatening to display a goodly portion of her dainty ankles. Her apparel, while not of the first water of fashion, displayed a certain elegance. Dark hair curled becomingly about a pale heart-shaped face, and big blue eyes were shadowed with tiredness.

Plain and simple, were Lady March’s watchwords when it came to visiting the dressmaker with her eldest niece. Nothing fancy if you please. Clarinda is too old for frills and furbelows. Her place is by my side and I do not require her to be fashionable to hold my smelling salts to my nose, or massage my aching brow with lavender water.

Of course Lady March would never have allowed her niece to go about Bath looking like a destitute orphan, although strictly speaking that was exactly what she was. In her own practical way her aunt had always been kind to her, Clarinda could not fault that. Lady March had taken Clarinda and her sister, Lucy, into her home when they were in dire circumstances, and since then they had wanted for nothing.

Nothing material, that is. Lady March was not a warm woman. Although she believed in duty and obligation, they came with the caveat that neither interfered with her own singular indulgences. She felt it was perfectly acceptable to use Clarinda as a nurse and companion, and that her niece should be grateful to be occupied in that manner.

Because everyone in Bath knew that Lady March’s health was of the utmost concern. To Lady March.

Clarinda’s face, so clearly fashioned for love and laughter, appeared drawn and serious as she considered the situation that awaited her at home, where her aunt had taken another one of her turns. Her aunt treated illness as a diversion; since her husband had died she had sought out ever more bizarre medical symptoms to while away her boredom. Now Lady March had run out of the tonic Doctor Moorcroft had prescribed her and had sent her kind-hearted niece out as a matter of urgency to purchase another bottle.

Buried deep in her thoughts Clarinda did not see the top hat. Blown from a gentleman’s head, it came bowling across the roadway, narrowly missing the wheels of a passing barouche, and rolled up onto the pavement. It wasn’t until the hat struck her on the shin, hard enough for her to cry out in surprise, that she realized she was under attack.

The bottle of tonic wobbled in her hand and she only just prevented it from smashing on the hard paving. Another gust threatened to carry the hat away, where it was nestled at her feet, and without thinking she reached down to secure it. Automatically she smoothed the soft beaver fur with her gloved finger. This hat was well made—a wealthy man’s accessory—and he would be missing it.

She looked about her for its owner, and spotted him at once.

Tall and dark, he was standing across the road, directly outside the Good King hostelry. The coat he wore was fashionable without being ostentatious, his neckcloth was elegantly tied and his boots were shiny. The smart equipage behind him looked as if it had just arrived, and baggage was being disengaged by bustling servants.

All that