First Page: A Duke’s Ode to Beauty – historical romance
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~1819~
Sunday, 9 May.
As was her habit, Lady Maribella Strathmore was late.
Late for London’s Season, since her parents insisted on spending Eastertide in Lancashire.
Late tonight for Lady Tilghman’s ball, though that was no grave impropriety, for the most fashionable guests always were.
And late, now, for her assignation with Lord Robert Tilghman in his father’s library. The room was equally well-suited as a refuge from the assembly’s crush of suitors and a rendezvous for confidantes or lovers.
Properly speaking, Lord Robert was neither of these. Yet.
The hall clock chimed. Half past ten.
Maribel gave a quick glance back. The taps of slippers and boots mingled with string-players’ energetic music and echoed down the empty corridor. Relief loosened her breath. A long quadrille meant at least a quarter-hour before she’d be missed.
She entered with a soft swish of her gown and closed the door shut against the sounds of the ball.
A pair of blazing hearth-fires assaulted her eyes. The flames danced like tipsy debutantes, their bright glare reflected on a half-dozen highly-polished tables and shimmering over the rows of gilt-encrusted bindings.
On the far side, a circular staircase stood sentinel. In its shadow, the back of a sphinx-legged couch sprouted not one but two debonairly-coiffed heads.
Was the blonde one Lord Robert’s? Dark Hair leaned close to him, as if in conversation, their whispers indistinct. A brandy glass, sporting gemmed-fingers and elegant cuffs, rose from that side of the couch.
She hadn’t expected any other companions. Certainly not another man.
Her hand fumbled for the doorknob.
“Merry!” The golden-haired man stood up.
Her heart cinched at the familiar voice. “Freddy?”
Her younger brother wasn’t due from Harwich for another fortnight. She wasn’t so gothic as to believe in ghosts.
He crossed into the light, where his regimentals gave proof of him. “I almost resigned myself to your not coming.” He laughed. “Should’ve guessed you’d lose track of the time! Didn’t know if Tilly was to be trusted, what. ‘Fraid he was apt to play me.”
Her mind spun. Days of planning this faux tryst, only to have it undone by Lord Robert’s mistaken generosity.
“Come, have a kiss.” Freddy walked ’round, opening his arms.
No mere apparition had such form and substance or rough wool sleeves. She pulled him close. Her nose curled at the rank smell of brandy and pipe tobacco.
“Dear Freddy! Must you always surprise us?” His coats muffled her words.
“A fine thing to see you, too!” His voice prickled as he slipped out of her embrace, though his smile still warmed her.
Mr. Dark Hair, face averted, hadn’t so much as risen for an introduction. How impolite.
She upbraided him with her severest look, which he proceeded to ignore, apparently absorbed in running his finger along the rim of his glass. Already in his cups, indolent fellow.
Well, she never expected much from Freddy’s friends, however finely tailored their evening wear or handsomely wound their cravats.
Dismal manners deserved the same in return. She cut away and drew Freddy towards the fireplace. His cheeks were unnaturally pale, his eyes worn with sleeplessness.
She looped her hands in his. “How long have you been in town?”
“But today, of course!” All swagger, that lopsided grin. “Took a fast horse when I had the chance.” He swung his head towards her ear. “I had letters, of course.–Oh, oughtn’t speak of that. Don’t relay it to none.–Suffice it to say, I went to Whitehall straight off, then gave my regards to our Father whom I knew I’d find at the East India Club, shared a drink or two and traded stories of tigers and piratical traders, and set off for–someplace… Well, best not speak of that, either. Round about dinner we finally made it to White’s, and whom do you think we found?”
Hi Author and thanks for sharing.
I think you’re trying too hard to find the perfect description or the perfect word for everything, and you’re overdoing it. “…fires assaulted her eyes…” had me rolling mine. It’s a little too florid for sustained reading, and some words seem off. “Upbraided” is usually a verbal reprimand, not visual. I don’t think good brandy smells rank; pipe tobacco usually smells pretty nice, at least to me.
I’m not all that well-versed in the Regency period, so I have questions. Would she be late for the Season? Is the son of a Lord also called Lord? Would her brother have worn his uniform to the dance, and would it have been rough wool, or something more refined? Actually, I think my questions come not from lack of knowledge, but because I feel your trying too hard with language comes happens to cover up not knowing the period? I apologize if I’m wrong on that. But I find if I don’t trust the writing, I don’t always trust the details. And I do know enough about Regency romances to know the Devil, and the story, is in the details.
I don’t know enough about your heroine to know if I like her or not. She doesn’t do or say enough in this snippet for me to get a feel for her, other than she’s late and, I think, rather imperious. Her brother, however, I like. He seems like a great guy to have at a dance: a man in uniform, snappy conversationalist, appears cheerful. I’ve got a mental picture of him.
Your hero, if that’s who Mr. Dark Hair is, is even more obscure than Maribella. But for a hero, that’s acceptable. Dark mysterious men are more interesting.
The writing, aside from what I’ve commented on, is smooth and engaging. Maybe just tone it down a bit.
I agree with Carol on the trying-too-hard. From the wording, you made me think the ‘gemmed-fingers’ was another woman in the room. I wouldn’t expect upperclass men in the Regency to wear lots of rings (which this made me think of – perhaps not your intention though) but maybe an old family ring. Then when I learned the dark head was male, the leaned close made me think m/m. So I’m a bit confused through all of this. Was it really a tryst? You call it Faux so why should it be a surprise that the one she should have expected isn’t there? And why faux? You use the term, ‘not yet,’ so I’m guessing she wants it to be NOT faux, but I have no real sense of her surprise or anger or anything when she finds it’s her brother in the room. If he wasn’t expected for two weeks still, I would think she’d have a lot of conflicting emotions, surprise, happiness, anger that her tryst is not there… You don’t tell me enough to know.
One note: Freddy’s father would probably have purchased a commission for him so the wool would be fairly fine since that would have made him an officer. He also sounds like a narrator when recounting what he did once he got to town. It feels awkward. And if he’s some kind of courier or spy, he’d never risk mentioning letters and such, drunk or not, or he’d have been a dead spy long ago.
I don’t know enough about what’s going on here to say if I’d read on or not. It would depend on the back blurb at this point. Kudos for putting it out there and good luck.
My sentence was a little mangled: “Actually, I think my questions come not from lack of knowledge, but because I feel the trying too hard with language results from not knowing the period intimately?”
I read a fair number of historical romances, and I’m sorry to say that this intro is not striking the right note for me. The first thing that threw me right out of the narrative was your use of “Lord Robert”. I could be wrong, but I don’t think that’s the correct address for a young man whose father is still alive, even if he has his own secondary title. For that matter, even if he was the primary title holder and not just the heir, your heroine still would not use his first name when addressing or referring to him unless they had a high level of familiarity with each other, i.e., they were cousins, or he was her best friend’s brother, or they’d grown up together, or something similar. This type of error makes it seem that you haven’t done enough research about the period.
Moving on, it does seem like you are trying a bit too hard with your word choices and your narrative is getting muddled as a result. I had to read the middle section several times to figure out that it was her brother and some unknown person on the sofa, not her brother and Lord Robert. I’m also very confused as to why Lord Robert mentioned this meeting to her brother, yet he apparently has not yet made an appearance. Also, her brother talks about meeting their father in his club and trading stories about tigers and pirates. This would imply that he is just back from India? – but in the 1800’s that was a long and arduous journey, not something to be taken lightly, so I would have expected his sister to be overjoyed to see him. Instead, she is completely casual about running into him.
I don’t need the first page to make an immediate impression. I’m willing to wait a bit for the story to unfold, but right now, there’s nothing to draw me in. The heroine comes off as an airhead, the hero has not yet made an appearance (unless he’s the dark haired guy on the sofa) and her brother is apparently a spy, but he’s an airhead also because he can’t keep his mouth shut about his secret dealings. Add to that an error in address on the first page and I’m not feeling like I want to continue.
@JenM: “Lord Robert” isn’t necessarily an error; it would be correct if he’s the younger son of a duke or a marquess. It’s not clear from the excerpt what the father’s rank is. Probably not a duke, since his mother is referred to as “Lady Tilghman” instead of the Duchess of X? And I think, though I could be wrong, that the title being the same as the surname would be weird for a marquess. So I agree that something somewhere doesn’t seem quite right.
I’d read on. I really enjoyed this piece. I do agree with the others that it does get a little confusing at times.
My problem with the language (aside from “assaulted her eyes” which made me, too, roll my eyes) was not so much the trying too hard for artsiness, but that it didn’t seem at all like the way she would have seen things.
The fires assaulted her eyes. Were they next to each other? That doesn’t make sense. If they weren’t, then her eyes travelled around the room, skipping everything but the fires, that would men the men were sitting in the dark. But, why would they sit in the dark? There’s nothing about Bro and friend that suggests a secret meeting.
Maribella (that doesn’t sound like a British name) is expecting a tryst with Robert, so what does she feel? Here, it is flat.
You don’t describe why mystery man’s face is averted, so it seems more like you, the author, withholding to build false suspense rather than natural.
You have a hint that Mari had planned a “faux tryst” but we have no sense of her purpose. Had you started with her trying not to show impatience as someone was delaying her, we’d have had a sense of purpose.
The language is tripping over itself, and often not delivering the image you obviously want. For example, it would be the light which assaulted her eyes used to darkness. Not the fire itself. A bit too convoluted and trying too hard. I agree with those who said the titles are awry.
Else I would be intrigued. Streamline this and I might read on.
I liked it. Careful with the complex descriptive lines like “debonairly-coiffed”…overly-layered lines (ha!) make my brain trip over them.
For what it’s worth, I read the piece all the way through, and that hardly ever happens with the First Page submissions. I agree that the language is overwritten and interferes with the flow of the storytelling, yet I like the voice that comes through. There’s a natural stylist in there who doesn’t need to rely on linguistic flourishes for dramatic vigour. Next, the manner in which the men in the room are revealed made me, too, ask myself if I was reading an m/m story, and if so, why are we reading this from a woman’s point of view? You do, nicely, establish an atmosphere of mystery and illicitness, but it feels a bit directionless and therefore confusing.
All in all, however, if the language were to be polished, I’d keep on reading. Good luck!
Thanks for sharing this! I love reading historical romances, so it’s great to have one here.
I have to agree that the language was getting in the way of the story at times. I first got confused at the pair of fires — if she’s looking at both of them at the same time, I picture them in my mind as being right next to each other, which is not a common layout.
Also, this sentence completely threw me out of the story: “A brandy glass, sporting gemmed-fingers and elegant cuffs, rose from that side of the couch.”
Now I’m picturing well-dressed brandy glasses who hang out on couches. I’m fairly sure this is not a paranormal historical romance.
I can see why people are questioning whether the man would be “Lord Robert” if the title mentions a duke, but I would not question it at this stage of the story. You have some good potential conflict here, with the heroine tiptoeing away from a ball to meet with a man in secret — and it’s not considered a tryst? Interesting. I think that’s a great way to get the reader to keep reading. But you might want to consider revising the language.