Becoming Mr. Brooking
The Mad Hatterlys

Professional Reviews

"Marguerite Butler uses the mores and taboos of the Regency period to create an entertaining story of a girl, past her prime in Regency time, and a man, drifting aimlessly until fate or whatever brings them together. The conflicts, complications, humor, and love make Becoming Mr. Brooking delightful reading." LONG AND SHORT OF IT

"In Becoming Mr. Brooking, Marguerite Butler has created a warm, witty romance featuring the most lovable hero and heroine I have encountered in a long while. Her dialogue is sharp and humorous, and her descriptions of the cast of characters in and around Owlbridge Manor is as amusing as the romance between Winnie and Graham is appealing. I look forward to more Regency romances from Butler." NIGHT OWL REVIEWS

Excerpt

Humidity and fatigue and frustration conspired to make Edwina distracted. As her displeasure with McKendrick rose, so did their voices until cut short by the unmistakable crack of a pistol. The horses shied as did their riders.

"Excisemen!" exclaimed McKendrick. Before she could react, the smuggler, his reflexes honed by years in a nervous profession, was gone, riding ventre a terre in the direction opposite the shot. Edwina, on the other hand, was not accustomed to being fired upon and her heart threatened to burst her chest. She ran to the wagon and leapt aboard in a panic. Frantically pulling at her skirts, she tried to untangle herself.

A man burst into the clearing on a bony grey gelding. Her groom rummaged for the pistols, but she stayed his hand.

The man wasn't in uniform and an exciseman wouldn't expose himself by dressing in fawn breeches and riding a pale horse. His tone and attire marked him as a gentleman. "Are you all right, miss? They didn't harm you?"

What the bloody hell? He thought he was rescuing her?

"Er, no. No, we're fine." She gestured with her chin at her groom.

"Oh, thank goodness. It's so one dare not travel at night for fear of highwaymen. I'm glad I happened along. You're a very fortunate woman."

A soft rain spatted against her skirts. Oh, well that was just about perfect. Rescued by some ignorant fool and now she had nothing to show for a sweaty, miserable night. Just absolutely perfect.

She forced herself to unclench her teeth.

"I'm so very grateful. Whatever would we have done?"
What the devil is this fool doing out on the road at midnight?

Her hero rode closer. He was definitely a gentleman and handsome at that, with dark hair worn fashionably tousled. Well-shaped calves pressed against his horse. The ratty grey danced like a hot-blooded Arab in the moonlight, but the man held his seat well. "Forgive me for being presumptuous, but what are you doing on this lonely road at this ungodly hour?"

Not only is he a fool, but he is a nosy one.

"I could ask you the same," she said lightly. The rain worsened, forcing her to replace her bonnet. Not only would this shield her from the rain, it would mask her face. Hopefully she'd never meet this fool again, but if she did, better he didn't recognize her.

"The coaching inn is full up thanks to the wretched weather." He guided the horse next to the wagon. “The innkeeper said something about the river breaching its banks.”

Edwina swallowed. He was very handsome when he smiled, but a charming fool was still a fool. "I'm afraid this road will take you far out of your way."

"I was told this was the way to Owlbridge. Is it not?"

That stunned her into silence. They weren't expecting any guests, at least not for a fortnight. "Does my rescuer have a name?" She held her breath, dreading the answer.

"I take it you are from Owlbridge if you are traveling this road. What a boon. I'm Mr. Brooking." He made a little bow with his head. "Your obedient servant."

She counted to five.

It wasn't enough. Ten. No, her jaw was still clenched tight. "So pleased to make your acquaintance," she forced out. "I am Miss Tolliver. And you are early."