Today, award-winning author Wendy LaCapra is guesting. She’s talking about her latest release Her Duke at Midnight, book three in the Mythic Dukes series, a paranormal, historical, Regency romance. Be sure to check out the free read. And don’t forget to enter the Rafflecopter giveaway.
“A governess and her secret take an invincible duke by storm…”
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First of all, I’d like to thank Maggie Blackbird for allowing me to guest post on her blog during my blog tour for my new release, Her Duke at Midnight. Like Maggie, I’m a fan of the TV mystery series Grantchester-especially the first season. Give me a hero who is basically decent and principled and fighting an internal battle connected with his past and then throw in heart-rending longing in an impossible love interest and, well, SWOON.
Hurtheven in her Duke at Daybreak is just such a hero (although he’s far more arrogant and in need of a takedown than Sidney). Two male friends from his childhood form his ‘found family’ and he’d do anything to protect them and their families. When he finds out his godchildren have become attached to a mysterious new nursemaid, he takes immediate issue. Soon enough, however, he realizes what’s at risk is not his godchildren, but his heart. Does he have what it takes to win the nursemaid’s trust?
One of the things I love most about romance in general and historical romance in particular is watching the hero unravel in pursuit of the heroine—and, man, does my duke unravel. In celebration of other great unravelings, I give you three unforgettable Historical Romance Heroes (not all of them always principled):
1. Sebastian, Lord St. Vincent in Devil in Winter
Sebastian is, at the start of the novel, more than a little problematic. He played the part of the villain in the prior book in the Wallflower series and it’s clear he has a LOT of work to do to become the hero Evie deserves. Why then is he one of Historical Romance’s favorite heros? I think it’s the way he cares for Evie—physically and emotionally. He thinks to get a warming stone for her cold feet without being asked. He washes & combs her hair when she is too exhausted to do so herself. And, when she shows signs he recognizes as manifestations of what we’d now call anxiety, he silently supports and comforts her with his touch. When it comes time to prove his love, he risks it all.
2. Anthony, Lord Bridgerton from The Viscount Who Loved Me
I’m completely in love with the Shonda Rhimes produced Bridgerton, but I’d recommend anyone who liked Season Two to read the source material. The plot revolves far less around the rivalry between Kate and her sister (in fact, there’s no rivalry) and more around the connection that Anthony and Kate forge. They are both caretakers at heart who have made significant sacrifices to ensure the comfort of those around them. The library scene in the book is one of my favorite ever in historical romance—where she shows him her vulnerability (she’s scared of thunderstorms) and he, not only comforts her, but opens up himself. His secret is that he’s haunted by the bee-sting death of his father—and when Kate is stung, he most certainly and very memorably unravels!
3. Benedict from Loretta Chase’s Lord Perfect
This is a bit of a two for one. In Lord Perfect Benedict, Viscount Rathbourne is a political and social reformer who values his spotless reputation. But when his nephew, Peregrine, runs off to protect disreputable Bathsheba Wingate’s daughter Olivia, Benedict and Bathsheba must join forces in a wild and unpredictable chase. Watching this principled, protective man unravel as he falls in love is a true treat. Bonus: Peregrine and Olivia, years later and all grown up, get their own book—Last Night’s Scandal and that one is equally delicious.
I hope you’ve enjoyed this journey down hero lane! And thank you again to Maggie for having me!
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Title: Her Duke at Midnight
Series: Mythic Dukes, Book 3
Author: Wendy LaCapra
Genre: Historical Paranormal Regency Romance
A governess and her secret take an invincible duke by storm…
Blurb: The Duke of Hurtheven will stop at nothing to protect those he loves. So, when a mysterious new governess captures his godchild’s affection, he vows to uncover her secrets. Instead, she sets him aflame.
Miss Hera Bythesea accepted a governess position to secure the character reference she needs to reclaim her secret child. But she did not count on Hurtheven—curious, relentless, and temptation in human form.
In Hera’s world, Hurtheven faces a challenge his power and wealth cannot solve. But for the love of unwed mother and child, he’ll undertake any Herculean Labor.
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(The heroine, Hera, meets the Duke of Hurtheven just after he discovers her charge–his goddaughter–wandering alone in a hedge)
He was close enough for his breath to raise gooseflesh on her neck. Who could steal up behind a person so quickly and not make a sound? A devil incarnate, that was who.
No matter. She squared her shoulders. She’d faced devils before.
She swiveled around with as much dignity as she could muster. “There you are!” She addressed Felicia. “I’m very disappointed in you, young lady.”
Felicia chewed her lip, glancing between her nursemaid and the duke. With eyes wide and innocent, she wrapped her arm more tightly around the duke’s neck.
“You must be the incomparable new nursemaid.” Hurtheven’s tone suggested he found her anything but.
“Indeed.” Though she dropped a quick curtsy, she made certain her tone revealed her own disdain. “I’m afraid, however, you have me at a loss.”
“Do I?” He revealed a line of white, even teeth in neither a smile, nor a sneer, but a chilling combination of the two.
“Well”—she wet her lips—“I imagine I would remember if we’d been introduced.”
“Of course you would.”
Ugh. The arrogance. Her initial assessment had, of course, been correct.
Well, if he wasn’t going to own up to being a duke, she needn’t treat him as one. She fixed a level gaze on him and held out her arms. “If I might have my charge, Mr.—?”
He did not immediately reply. In fact, he didn’t speak until the tendons on the back of her knees started to quiver. A useful silence, Karl had called that trick. But she could no longer be tricked. She kept her expression patient, pleasant.
The duke returned his attention to the child. “Hurt?”
Fee scoffed. “No.”
The duke exhaled, holding her close for a significant moment.
Hera inhaled sharply. Hot embarrassment prickled in her neck as if she were witnessing something she ought not. He’d been genuinely frightened.
“Fee,” the duke addressed the child, “you must go back inside…and stay there.”
Her little fingers dug into his skin. “Can’t I stay with you?”
He angled his head to meet her gaze and his expression softened. “Ah, but if you do stay with me, you’d have to be a proper lady and greet every one of your father’s guests.”
Fee dropped her jaw, widened her eyes, and then violently shook her head.
“I didn’t think so.” He touched her nose. “Now, you go back upstairs, and I promise I’ll be up to see you when the party is finished.”
Fee pouted. “You’ve been gone forever.”
He nodded. “An interminable amount of time, I agree. And I missed you every day—”
No. No. She would not reconsider her judgement of the man just because he looked into Felicia’s eyes with tenderness and spoke to her as if she were the most important thing to him in the world.
“—An hour longer is all I ask. Surely the party guests will be leaving by midafternoon. And, if you go quietly, and Mrs. Montrose tells me you’ve been good, I promise presents tonight.”
Fee considered. “Good presents?”
“The best, of course.” Fleetingly, he met Hera’s gaze over Fee’s head. “They’re from me, aren’t they?”
Hera bit back a groan.
“You do give good presents.” Felicia nodded. “I’ll go.”
“And be good?” he prompted.
“And be good.” She parroted.
“That’s my girl.” He kissed Fee’s forehead before planting her on her feet.
As Hera reached out to take Fee’s hand, her arm brushed his, singeing her flesh. Fire and brimstone.
“I trust”—he spoke as if she were the errant child—”you will not to lose her again.”
“Of course not. She’s promised you to be good.” Hera matched his authoritative baritone with her best no-nonsense nursemaid voice. “Good day.”
Her still-tucked-up skirts may have belied her bravado, but she turned and walk back to the house, head held high. All will be well.
“Mrs. Montrose?”
She stopped.
“That is your name?”
His voice dripped with undisguised suspicion.
She glanced back over her shoulder. How had he discovered her surname was false? Or—she narrowed her eyes—was he just guessing?
“Why would I lie about my name?” she asked.
“Why, indeed.” He lifted a brow, not in the least cowed nor convinced by her insouciance. “I was merely making sure I remembered correctly.”
She smiled, briefly and innocently. “Allow me to reassure you…your memory is sound.” She tilted her head in a pitying manner. “My father had trouble remembering things in his later years, too.”
Without waiting to see his reaction, she returned her gaze to the door and quickened her pace.
Obviously, all was not going to be well.
She could carefully advance across this checkered board while employing every ounce of competence and skill she possessed and still find herself ruthlessly knocked aside. This man wasn’t a pawn. He wasn’t even a rook, a knight, or a king.
This man was the player.
And his presence challenged everything.
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Title: His Duchess at Eventide
Series: Mythic Dukes, Book 2
Author: Wendy LaCapra
Genre: Historical Paranormal Regency Romance
Lovers reunited & a dukedom reclaimed—the Regency meets the Odyssey
Blurb: Lord Cheverley, son of the Duke of Ithwick, returns to England devastated physically and emotionally by seven years of war, a shipwreck, and six years in the captivity of a brutal pirate. The courts have declared him dead, and his wife is entertaining suitors. Should he demand his rightful place, disrupting his family’s lives, or should he return to sea, seeking vengeance against the pirate? He sets out to find the answer in disguise.
Penelope once believed in love, but then the man who swept her off her feet deserted her, leaving her and her unborn child utterly alone. She will do anything to protect her son, including enlisting the aid of a mysterious sea captain to uncover the true intentions of her devious suitors. But the captain soon awakens something in Penelope, and she begins to suspect he is no stranger. But, as they peel back the layers of a deadly plot, can this broken family heal their wounds in time to save what really matters?
What Readers Are Saying:
“Romance and adventure that will keep you up at night!” —Eva Devon
“…stunning in its emotional intensity and, for me, her best writing yet. The journey of these characters shattered my heart, filled me with hope, and kept me reading late into the night, finally releasing me with the reassurance that some bonds, though stretched beyond imagination, cannot be broken, that evil foes can be vanquished, that love wins.” —PJ on the Romance Dish
“His Duchess at Eventide is a tale that is all things fabulous, mythical and epic. …I know Chev, Penelope and their romance will have a firm place on my ebook keeper shelf and in my memory.” —Gayle on Lady Celeste Reads Romance
“Stunning, Emotional, Heartbreaking and full of hope , this has to be one of my all time favourite books.” —Maggie, Amazon Reviewer
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The captain cleared his throat in acknowledgement. “Let us speak of happier things. Tell me how you met your husband.”
“How I met my husband?” she repeated, surprised.
“Why not?”
She couldn’t think of an answer why not. “I usually question sailors about Cheverley, not the other way around.”
“Would you rather I ask something else?”
“No,” she sighed. “Which version of how we met do you prefer? I could tell you the story he would have told you. Or, I could tell you the ducal version.”
“I prefer your version.”
Her version? She didn’t have one. No one ever bothered to ask.
He folded his arm behind his back and leaned against the rock, disappearing entirely into shadow. “Why did you choose Lord Cheverley?”
“I didn’t choose Cheverley. Cheverley chose me.”
“Still, you could have refused.”
That made her smile. “I’m not sure anyone ever refused Cheverley.”
“He was arrogant, then?” He did not share her amusement.
“No,” she answered. “Not exactly.”
“I am not sure I understand.”
Strange, conversing with a man she could not see… The experience contained echoes of another night, long ago.
“You still have not told me how you came to meet?”
“If you are seeking a light, buoyant tale,” she replied, “you will be disappointed.”
“Perhaps I merely seek to listen.”
To listen. How long had it been since anyone listened?
She’d hadn’t allowed herself to think of that year. Of her father’s death and her introduction to the bewildering, crowded city. Of the wretched loneliness. Of the grueling work. Of the nights she’d escaped to the public assembly rooms and danced with abandon. Her only hope? A few, elating moments of forgetting.
“First,” she replied, “you must know something about my past. My mother died when I was a child. My father was a farmer—though not of any consequence. And, when I was fifteen, Parliament passed an act of enclosure on behalf of our absent landlord. The loss of the right to pannage rendered father incapable of paying rent. He lost the farm.”
“So, your father was a pig farmer. And yet you married the son of a duke.”
“Well”—she raised a brow—“I’m back raising pigs, aren’t I?”
With help, this time. No matter what her troubles, she refused to take for granted the means to pay for help.
“I am certain that is a disappointment.”
“A disappointment?”
“Had your husband lived, you could have been a duchess.”
She scoffed. “Why does everyone assume I married Cheverley in some bid to be rescued by wealth? Cheverley wasn’t heir when we married. I did not marry him because I was poor. I did not marry him because I was alone.” She backed up against the rock by the captain’s side. This hurt too much to stand.
“Why did you marry him?” he asked quietly.
“I married Cheverley because I was in love. Because Cheverley chose me, and I simply couldn’t refuse.” The rock was cold against her back, and its rough edges bit into her arms. But it was the captain’s proximity that discomfited. “Truth for truth,” she said. “And, after all that, you owe me a big truth. A monumental—”
“I have been in love, too.”
Her heart stopped.
“But,” he continued, “I’m afraid it is too late.”
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Title: Her Duke at Daybreak
Series: Mythic Dukes, Book 1
Author: Wendy LaCapra
Genre: Historical Paranormal Regency Romance
2018 Romance Writers of America® RITA® Contest Finalist
A devilish duke & a proper widow agree to three nights, but will explosive passion cost more than they have bargained?
Blurb: Infamous for his pedigree of madness and murder, the reclusive Duke of Ashbey believes he cannot feel until a mysterious woman unlocks a world of sensation in a single, shattering moment of connection. Ash casts a desperate bid for more.
Recent widow Alicia Stone has long been reviled as the chief impediment to a love affair that captured the nation’s imagination. Publicly, she settled for respectability’s cold comfort, but, secretly, she longs to experience what she never found with her famous husband—uninhibited passion. When Ashbey proposes a discreet three-night assignation, Alicia shocks herself by accepting. But will their explosive union cost them both far more than they bargained?
What Readers Are Saying:
“Great characters. Great sex. Great story.” –Author Abigail Sharp
“Ms LaCapra has loaded this book with drama, a bit of angst (but notanoverdose), a sprinkle of humor and sizzle. I was glued to this bookfrom start to finish, it’s just that good.” –Deb Diem, Goodreads
“Her Duke at Daybreak is a steamy romance but it is so much more. It is the joining of two lost souls.” –Kelly Tyree, Goodreads
“This is my first experience of Wendy’s books , it won’t be the last. Her characters are wonderful and her writing is riveting.” –Maggie Whitworth, Goodreads
“This was a Happily Ever After that almost didn’t happen so that makes it all the more enjoyable when it finally comes.” –Diane, Goodreads
** Get It FREE for a Limited Time!! **
Purchase at:
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Either they were swaying, or the room had started to rock. Alicia wasn’t sure which sensation she should heed. Her weight rested on her right foot, now, her left…but neither foot was keeping her aloft. She remained upright only because Ashbey held her against his chest as if she were his cherished bride.
She was not his cherished bride.
Nor would this be a marital coupling done with hasty discretion beneath the proper shielding of sheets—thank heavens.
The duke restrained his masculine force, but it hung in the air like a scent, taunting. Tempting. She’d glimpsed his manhood—he was already cocked and fully primed.
He’d said something before taking her into his arms. Something that had roused her anger. Only she couldn’t remember his words. She could not remember any words, for that matter. Words were stupid and useless, a mere nothing next to the wanton anticipation thrilling her blood.
Tonight, she’d finally understand the sounds that had filled those long-ago Caribbean evenings. She’d make sense of the shadows she’d seen dancing on the walls. She’d learn passion, unrestrained.
She wanted it all—all the sighs, the groans, the pleasure—and she wanted it now.
Her hands crept up his hard forearms and into the unbelievable softness of his hair. Tentatively, she stroked his neck.
He ceased swaying, and a rumbling noise tore from his core. The desperate sound unleashed a sense of power, as if he had been formed for her and her alone.
“Kiss me.” She lifted her face.
He guided her mouth to his. The slide of his lips and the exploration of his tongue combined. This was more than a kiss. The heat of his mouth promised all she needed. Greedily, she demanded more.
“Slow,” he said through a ragged breath.
She shook her head no. Desire’s waves were rollicking and fast. Why wade tentatively into the ocean when she longed to dive and submerge?
She hadn’t felt him loosen the laces of her dressing gown, but the silk slipped from her shoulders down into the crooks of her arms.
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Historical Romance author Wendy LaCapra writes award-winning books reviewers describe as ‘heart-pounding, entrancing’, ‘lusciously romantic and sparkling with wit.’ As a teen, Wendy discovered spine-tingling gothics in her local public library, inspiring her to craft her own seductive tales full of secrets and scandal. She lives with her husband in a quirky, historic building in NYC and loves a girls’ night in.
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Maggie Blackbird 
Sounds like an interesting read. Thanks for sharing.
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Thank you for allowing me to guest host, Maggie!
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These are among my favorite type of books to read. Thanks for the wonderful blog post.
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