New Release: Noblest Intentions:

 I'm very pleased to introduce my new novel, Noblest Intentions, a low-angst Pride and Prejudice Variation.

It's a meet-cute first impression encounter between Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy, which features a lake in Hyde Park, a bold rescue [the question is, who rescues whom?] and instant attraction that is thwarted. 

Here is a short excerpt to give you a taste of what to expect:

Excerpt from Chapter 3

Against his better judgment, Darcy climbed in. It was probably a mistake. Still, weighing the possibility of a mistake against the certainty that walking home in icy, wet clothes was downright dangerous, his choice was inescapable. Besides, at this point, the prospect of sheltering from the wind was too much for him to resist.

As soon as the door of the carriage closed, he regretted his decision.

He was acutely conscious of his appearance, stripped as he was of his gentlemanly trappings. Hatless and coatless, his wet shirt pressed close to his skin, his hair plastered to his head, he was sitting in an intimately close space with a young woman whose name he did not even know.

Should he introduce himself? He tried to work out the social niceties. It was deucedly awkward sitting in a carriage without even knowing how to address her, other than ‘madam’. What was the protocol for introducing himself to a lady whose daughter almost drowned in the river? There was no rulebook that could answer that question. It was very awkward. How could he not perform any introductions? One did not generally bring complete strangers into one’s house. It was all highly irregular.

Still, he held back. Was it wise to know her name? To know anything about her at all? It was already too much that he knew she lived on Gracechurch Street. She was a mother, a married woman. From trade. That was more than enough information. He did not want to tempt fate by discovering more.

He had never thought of his carriage as small. Yet at the moment, it felt like the walls were closing in on him. She was sitting much too close for comfort, her sodden clothes pasted to her skin and outlining her figure all too clearly. Even when he did his best not to glance in her direction, he was acutely aware of her. He had held her not very long ago, and she had been nothing like a sack of potatoes. Despite the damp smell of river surrounding them, there was still a hint of her perfume lingering. It weighed on his senses, reminding him of how she had felt in his arms.

So, did he want to know her name? The answer was a resounding no. Without a name, she would remain a stranger forever. That was how it should be. What was the point? As soon as she and her daughter were warm enough, she would return to her husband, and Darcy would never see her again. He had no intention of furthering the acquaintance. Knowing her name was asking for trouble. It was unwise. It was also entirely improper, because he ought not to pursue this preposterous fascination for someone who should not be of interest to him at all.

He looked out of the window, too weary and cold to deal with all this. His mind was growing fuzzy. He had heard that sudden exposure to cold could befuddle a man’s brain. It would certainly explain why he was having such a peculiar reaction to her.

A high-pitched set of giggles broke into his musings, and he turned to look at Margaret in surprise.

“Look at you!” she squealed gleefully, her hands pressed to her mouth.

Her mother grinned as she inspected his hair, while Georgiana was regarding him uncertainly, worried he would take offence. Truth be told, he was glad to see the little girl laughing. He hoped it was a good sign and not an indication she was suffering hallucinations.

“I fail to see what is so funny, Miss Margaret,” he said.

“You look like you have green hair,” she said, giggling even more.

He threw the mother a questioning look.

“Indeed you do,” said the young woman, her eyes dancing. “You look like a sea-creature, all dripping wet, and you have a plant stuck to your head.”

“A plant? Growing on my head? Where?” he said, putting his hand to his head, opening his eyes wide in mock horror. “Why did no one tell me I had plants growing on my head instead of hair?”

Georgina, obviously relieved to see her brother being playful, gave a small giggle of her own. Under normal circumstances, Darcy did not care to be the object of hilarity, but the child’s lips were blue with cold.

He was also shivering and no doubt bluish in color, but he was much larger and he rarely became ill. Unfortunately, he knew that many young children never made it beyond their fifth birthday. He could only hope that little Margaret was strong enough to withstand the plunge.

He reached for the offending article and tossed it onto the wooden boards in an exaggerated gesture, then shook the water from his curls like a dog. This produced the required effect. The child laughed even harder.

“I hate to point out the obvious, madam,” he said to the mother, pleased at the child’s reaction, “but you, too, are dripping wet. Which makes you a sea monster as well.”

“Me, too,” cried the child, entering into the game.

“Can I be a monster as well?” said Georgiana, joining in.

The child eyed her dubiously for a second, then gave a big smile. “Yes. We can pretend your bonnet is an oyster shell.”

The edge of his lips lifted. Just briefly, he was struck by a strange giddy feeling. Something extraordinary had happened today. Between the two of them, he and a young lady had managed to save a child!

As if sensing his thoughts, the mother turned to him. “Thank you for rescuing Margaret. You put your life at risk.”

He gave a quick nod. “I am a strong swimmer. I simply did my duty.”

“Your duty? I think you know it is more than that.” She bathed him in her smile, and he felt a strange warm feeling stir inside him. Her gaze rested on him and his pulse gave a little jolt of something. He was not quite sure what it was, but he supposed it had to be joy at what they had accomplished together.

“I am glad I was there to help,” he said. The jolt was turning into a deep shiver that had nothing to do with her, he realised. He was cold to the bone.

As if guessing his thoughts, she remarked. “We do not yet know if there will be consequences. I have heard that people who fall into freezing water on a day like today…”

As if to complete her thought, a set of shivers wracked his body. Her gaze sharpened, and he cursed inwardly. He ought to have concealed it better.

She unwrapped her blanket from around her shoulders. “Take my blanket, sir,” she said. “I am not cold.”

“You cannot expect me to be so unchivalrous as to take a blanket from a young lady.”

She shook her head. “It is your turn now. Look at me. Am I shivering? Are my lips blue?”

She did not intend anything by it, he was certain, but the temptation to examine her lips had to be avoided at all cost.

I hope you enjoyed this excerpt. Noblest Intentions is now available on Amazon.