Whisper of Scandal

Nicola Cornick’s novels have received acclaim the world over

“Cornick is first-class, Queen of her game.”

—Romance Junkies

“A rising star of the Regency arena.”

—Publishers Weekly

“Nicola Cornick creates a glittering, sensual world of

historical romance that I never want to leave.” —Anna Campbell, author of Untouched

Praise for Nicola’s previous books:

“If you’ve liked Nicola Cornick’s other books, you are sure

to like this one as well. If you’ve never read one— what are you waiting for?” —Rakehell on Lord of Scandal

“Witty banter, lively action, and sizzling passion.”

—Library Journal on Undoing of a Lady

“With every Nicola Cornick book you know you are in for a

wonderful read and a most enjoyable adventure!” —Mary Gramlich, The Reading Reviewer

“RITA(r) Award-nominated Cornick deftly steeps her

latest intriguingly complex Regency historical in a beguiling blend of danger and desire.” —Booklist on Unmasked

This paper hears the startling news that the beautiful widow Lady JW and the dashing Lord G are to embark on their very own scandalous adventure to the Arctic wastes. Readers of this publication will already know that Lord G is a man who first came to fame when he charted a route single-handedly across the outer reaches of Mongolia. Most recently he has returned to London in a cloud of acclaim for his courageous exploits in the frozen north. If any man can escort Lady JW safely on her perilous voyage to claim her late husband’s love child then Lord G is surely that man. Lady JW is, of course, a society hostess renowned for her elegance and style. Can it be that having wed one daring buccaneer she now desires another adventurer in her bed? If so, whether she will succeed with Lord G is a matter for conjecture, for it is said his heart is as cold as the Arctic snow …

The Gentleman’s Athenian Mercury,London, June 3, 1811

Author Note

A couple of years ago I went on holiday to Spitsbergen, an island within the Arctic Circle off the north coast of Norway. It was not the sort of place that I imagined would inspire a historical romance, but when I started to read about the history of Spitsbergen, I was fascinated. Not only is it a stunningly beautiful place, but it also had a hugely important role in the history of science and exploration. The result of my reading and of that memorable cruise is Whisper of Scandal, which I loved writing. It combines some of the elements of the history of Spitsbergen with a rich and romantic love story. There is much more about the historical background to Whisper of Scandal on my website at www.nicolacornick.co.uk, and I hope you enjoy exploring it. In the meantime I must own up to one liberty I took with the history and the geography.

There was no monastery on Spitsbergen in the early nineteenth century, nor was there any permanent, year-round settlement, because the climate is too harsh. The monastery of Bellsund in the book is modelled on the Solovetsky Monastery on an island in the White Sea.

Upcoming titles in the Scandalous Women of the Ton series

ONE WICKED SIN

MISTRESS BY MIDNIGHT

Browse www.nicolacornick.co.uk for Nicola’s full backlist

Nicola Cornick

Whisper of Scandal

www.mirabooks.co.uk

For Martha, Mary and Anne, and for all who sailed with us

around Spitsbergen on the Professor Molchanov. Thank you for an inspirational voyage!

With a host of furious fancies

Whereof I am commander, With a burning spear and a horse of air, To the wilderness I wander. By a knight of ghostes and shadowes I summon’d am to tourney Ten leagues beyond the wild world’s end. Methinks it is no journey.

—From Tom O’Bedlam’s Song, anonymous, circa 1600

Definition: A Grasswidow (or Grass-widow, grass widow) is a wife whose husband will return after a limited period of time away, usually after a voyage. The “grass” refers to the mattress which used to be filled with grass. The “widow” is left back on the grass/mattress. It might express the idea that the abandoned lover has been “put out to grass.” The term is applied “with a shade of malignancy,” a tantalisingly opaque comment.

London-May 1811

HE WAS LATE. Eighteen months late.

Alex Grant paused on the steps of Lady Joanna Ware’s London town house in Half Moon Street. If he had expected to see any signs of mourning then he was sorely disappointed. No black drapes shuttered the windows and the presence of a large silver knocker on the door indicated that visitors were welcome. Lady Joanna, it seemed, had already thrown off her widow’s weeds a bare twelve months after word of her husband’s death must have reached her.

Alex raised the silver knocker and the front door opened smoothly, silently. A butler, saturnine in black, stood in the aperture. It was well before the acceptable hour for calling. The butler somehow managed to convey this information-and his disapproval-with the mere twitch of an eyebrow.

“Good morning, my lord. How may I help you?”