The Demure Miss Manning
ADVENTURES OF AN ENGLISH DEBUTANTEThe perfect diplomat’s daughter, Mary Manning has spent her young life following her father around the world, behaving in a most agreeable way. So stealing a kiss from military hero Sebastian Barrett is most out of character – and a mistake she’ll never make again!A mission to Brazil seems the perfect way to escape his tempting emerald eyes. But when he too arrives upon the sultry sands of Rio, Mary realises there’s no running from the perfectly wicked way Sebastian makes her feel…
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‘Miss Manning, haveyoumet the great hero of the day?’ Lady Alnworth said.
He turned to smile at Mary, and it took all her long years of careful diplomatic training to keep her own polite smile in place. A chivalric knight of old, only in a red coat instead of gleaming armour. On him, that uniform seemed—different. Exotic. Alluring.
‘How do you do, Miss Manning?’ he said, bowing over her hand.
His breath through her glove made her shiver. His hair was a golden brown, shimmering as if he spent much time in the sun. It gave him such a warmth she wanted to get close to. So very vital … burning with raw, energetic life.
Yes, she thought. No wonder all the young ladies of London were in love with him. If she wasn’t careful she would soon be one of them!
I don’t know what last winter was like where you are, but here it was cold, grey and long! I am not a winter person—ever … So I definitely loved escaping to the warm beaches of Brazil, even if it was only in my imagination.
I also loved watching the romance of Mary and Sebastian unfold against the palm trees and real-life political intrigue of 1808 Rio. They started to feel like real friends—two people whose adventures I loved following every day. I was never sure where they would go, but I knew they definitely belonged together—two strong, kind-hearted, brave people, who are too honourable and stubborn for their own good! Maybe I was just feeling extra-romantic after my own wedding last summer! I hope you enjoy their adventures, too …
For more behind-the-book history and deleted scenes from The Demure Miss Manning be sure to visit me at ammandamccabe.com.
AMANDA McCABE wrote her first romance at the age of sixteen—a vast epic, starring all her friends as the characters, written secretly during algebra class. She’s never since used algebra, but her books have been nominated for many awards, including the RITA, Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award, the Booksellers’ Best, the National Readers’ Choice Award, and the Holt Medallion. She lives in Oklahoma with her husband, one dog and one cat.
Contents
London—1805
‘I hear he is the handsomest thing ever seen!’
Mary Manning tried not to laugh at her friend Lady Louisa Smythe’s enthusiastic words. Instead, she smiled and nodded at the people they strolled past in the park, and adjusted her lace-trimmed parasol against the bright afternoon sun. Lady Louisa did tend to get so very excited over titbits of gossip, especially gossip about good-looking young men.
And a good-looking young man who was the newest hero of the war against Napoleon, after his valiant behaviour at the Battle of Caldiero—well, Mary was surprised she hadn’t swooned quite away with enthusiasm yet.
But Mary had to admit even she was intrigued by the tales of Lord Sebastian Barrett, third son of the Marquess of Howard and a captain in the Third Hussars, and his heroism. Just a tiny bit.
Lady Louisa took Mary’s arm as they turned along a winding, narrow river path. Mary automatically studied the people gathered there, strolling in pairs or laughing quartets, talking together by the sun-dappled water. Her father had worked in the diplomatic service for as long as she could remember, and she had been his hostess since her beautiful Portuguese mother died a few years ago.
Sixteen had been young to organise dinners and card parties where foreign envoys and their sophisticated wives could make alliances with the English representatives, especially in such dangerous wartime days, yet there had been no one else to do it. Mary had already learned much from watching her gracious mother, listening to her parents’ conversations, asking questions. She loved the work, loved having a purpose. Loved learning new things. With her father, she had seen Italy and Austria, lived in Russia for many months, only returning to England a few months ago.
Yet sometimes—well, sometimes she almost wished she could giggle and whisper like other young ladies, be carried away by the wild wings of flirtation and infatuation. Just for a moment. That was why she so enjoyed being friends with Lady Louisa.
‘The handsomest man ever?’ Mary said. She and Lady Louisa stopped in the shade of a copse of trees where they could watch the crowds flow past, the children sailing their toy boats on the water, the bright flutter of beribboned bonnets and silk parasols. ‘Better looking than the Prince de Ligne? You swore last week he had quite won your heart for ever.’
Louisa laughed merrily. ‘Oh, him! He is to marry some little German dumpling of a duchess, trying to get his lands back. He was a fine dancer, to be sure, but he is no hero like Lord Sebastian. There is just something about a man in uniform, don’t you think, Mary? A wonderful manly spirit.’
