When
the truth comes out, Edward may have a few
surprises of his own for the new Mrs. Rokesby.
surprises of his own for the new Mrs. Rokesby.
THE GIRL WITH THE MAKE-BELIEVE HUSBAND
Rokesbys #2
Julia Quinn
Releasing May 30, 2017
Avon Books
While
you were sleeping...
With her brother Thomas injured on the battlefront in
the Colonies, orphaned Cecilia Harcourt has two unbearable choices: move in
with a maiden aunt or marry a scheming cousin. Instead, she chooses option
three and travels across the Atlantic, determined to nurse her brother back to
health. But after a week of searching, she finds not her brother but his best
friend, the handsome officer Edward Rokesby. He's unconscious and in desperate
need of her care, and Cecilia vows that she will save this soldier's life, even
if staying by his side means telling one little lie...
I
told everyone I was your wife
When Edward comes to, he's more than a little confused.
The blow to his head knocked out six months of his memory, but surely he would
recall getting married. He knows who Cecilia Harcourt is—even if he does not
recall her face—and with everyone calling her his wife, he decides it must be
true, even though he'd always assumed he'd marry his neighbor back in England.
If
only it were true...
Cecilia risks her entire future by giving
herself—completely—to the man she loves. But when the truth comes out, Edward
may have a few surprises of his own for the new Mrs. Rokesby.
Manhattan Island
July 1779
His head hurt.
Correction, his head really hurt.
It was hard to tell, though, just what sort of pain it was. He might have been shot through the head with a musket ball. That seemed plausible, given his current location in New York (or was it Connecticut?) and his current occupation as a captain in His Majesty’s army.
There was a war going on, in case one hadn’t noticed.
But this particular pounding—the one that felt more like someone was bashing his skull with a cannon (not a cannonball, mind you, but an actual cannon) seemed to indicate that he had been attacked with a blunter instrument than a bullet.
An anvil, perhaps. Dropped from a second-story window.
But if one cared to look on the bright side, a pain such as this did seem to indicate that he wasn’t dead, which was also a plausible fate, given all the same facts that had led him to believe he might have been shot.
That war he’d mentioned... people did die.
With alarming regularity.
So he wasn’t dead. That was good. But he also wasn’t sure where he was, precisely. The obvious next step would be to open his eyes, but his eyelids were translucent enough for him to realize that it was the middle of the day, and while he did like to look on the metaphorical bright side, he was fairly certain that the literal one would prove blinding.
So he kept his eyes closed.
But he listened.
He wasn’t alone. He couldn’t make out any actual conversation, but a low buzz of words and activity filtered through the air. People were moving about, setting objects on tables, maybe pulling a chair across the floor.
Someone was moaning in pain.
Most of the voices were male, but there was at least one lady nearby. She was close enough that he could hear her breathing. She made little noises as she went about her business, which he soon realized included tucking blankets around him and touching his forehead with the back of her hand.
He liked these little noises, the tiny little mmms and sighs she probably had no idea she was making. And she smelled nice, a bit like lemons, a bit like soap.
And a bit like hard work.
He knew that smell. He’d worn it himself, albeit usually only briefly until it turned into a full-fledged stink.
On her, though, it was more than pleasant. Perhaps a little earthy. And he wondered who she was, to be tending to him so diligently.
“How is he today?”
Edward held himself still. This male voice was new, and he wasn’t sure he wanted anyone to know he was awake yet.
Although he wasn’t sure why he felt this hesitancy.
“The same,” came the woman’s reply.
“I am concerned. If he doesn’t wake up soon...”
“I know,” the woman said. There was a touch of irritation in her voice, which Edward found curious.
“Have you been able to get him to take broth?”
“Just a few spoonfuls. I was afraid he would choke if I attempted any more than that.”
The man made a vague noise of approval. “Remind me how long he has been like this?”
“A week, sir. Four days before I arrived, and three since.”
A week. Edward thought about this. A week meant it must be... March? April?
No, maybe it was only February. And this was probably New York, not Connecticut.
But that still didn’t explain why his head hurt so bloody much. Clearly he’d been in some sort of an accident. Or had he been attacked?
“There has been no change at all?” the man asked, even though the lady had just said as much.
But she must have had far more patience than Edward, because she replied in a quiet, clear voice, “No, sir. None.”
The man made a noise that wasn’t quite a grunt. Edward found it impossible to interpret.
“Er...” The woman cleared her throat. “Have you any news of my brother?”
Her brother? Who was her brother?
“I am afraid not, Mrs. Rokesby.”
Mrs. Rokesby?
“It has been nearly two months,” she said quietly.
Mrs. Rokesby? Edward really wanted them to get back to that point. There was only one Rokesby in North America as far as he knew, and that was him. So if she was Mrs. Rokesby...
“I think,” the male voice said, “that your energies would be better spent tending to your husband.”
Husband?
“I assure you,” she said, and there was that touch of irritation again, “that I have been caring for him most faithfully.”
Husband? They were calling him her husband? Was he married? He couldn’t be married. How could he be married and not remember it?
Who was this woman?
Edward’s heart began to pound. What the devil was happening to him?
“Did he just make a noise?” the man asked.
“I... I don’t think so.”
She moved then, quickly. Hands touched him, his cheek, then his chest, and even through her obvious concern, there was something soothing in her motions, something undeniably right.
“Edward?” she asked, taking his hand. She stroked it several times, her fingers brushing lightly over his skin. “Can you hear me?”
He ought to respond. She was worried. What kind of gentleman did not act to relieve a lady’s distress?
“I fear he may be lost to us,” the man said, with far less gentleness than Edward thought appropriate.
“He still breathes,” the woman said in a steely voice.
The man said nothing, but his expression must have been one of pity, because she said it again, more loudly this time.
“He still breathes.”
“Mrs. Rokesby...”
Edward felt her hand tighten around his. Then she placed her other on top, her fingers resting lightly on his knuckles. It was the smallest sort of embrace, but Edward felt it down to his soul.
“He still breathes, Colonel,” she said with quiet resolve. “And while he does, I will be here. I may not be able to help Thomas, but—”
Thomas. Thomas Harcourt. That was the connection. This must be his sister. Cecilia. He knew her well.
Or not. He’d never actually met the lady, he felt like he knew her. She wrote to her brother with a diligence that was unmatched in the regiment. Thomas received twice as much mail as Edward, and Edward had four siblings to Thomas’s one.
Cecilia Harcourt. What on earth was she doing in North America? She was supposed to be in Derbyshire, in that little town Thomas had been so eager to leave. The one with the hot springs. Matlock. No, Matlock Bath.
Edward had never been, but he thought it sounded charming. Not the way Thomas described it, of course; he liked the bustle of city life and couldn’t wait to take a commission and depart his village. But Cecilia was different. In her letters, the small Derbyshire town came alive, and Edward almost felt that he would recognize her neighbors if he ever went to visit.
She was witty. Lord, she was witty. Thomas used to laugh so much at her missives that Edward finally made him read them out loud.
Then one day, when Thomas was penning his response, Edward interrupted so many times that Thomas finally shoved out his chair and held forth his quill.
“You write to her,” he’d said.
So he did.
Not on his own, of course. Edward could never have written to her directly. It would have been the worst sort of impropriety, and he would not have insulted her in such a manner. But he took to scribbling a few lines at the end of Thomas’s letters, and whenever she replied, she had a few lines for him.
Thomas carried a miniature of her, and even though he said it was several years old, Edward had found himself staring at it, studying the small portrait of the young woman, wondering if her hair really was that remarkable golden color, or if she really did smile that way, lips closed and mysterious.
Somehow he thought not. She did not strike him as a woman with secrets. Her smile would be sunny and free. Edward had even thought he’d like to meet her once this godforsaken war was over. He’d never said anything to Thomas, though.
That would have been strange.
Now Cecilia was here. In the colonies. Which made absolutely no sense, but then again, what did? Edward’s head was injured, and Thomas seemed to be missing, and...
Edward thought hard.
...and he seemed to have married Cecilia Harcourt.
He opened his eyes and tried to focus on the green-eyed woman peering down at him.
“Cecilia?”
I fell in love with the Bridgertons and Rokesbys when I read Because of Miss Bridgerton, so when I got the chance to read The Girl With the Make-Believe Husband, I jumped on it like white on rice! And even though I was so excited to read it, I waited until I just couldn't anymore because it was the last Julia Quinn book that I had and I wanted it to last. It was worth the wait though and it will tide me over until I can read her again. The Girl With the Make-Believe Husband was absolutely wonderful and I loved it so much!
I have say that Billie is still my favorite and while Cecilia might not be as outrageous as Billie, I mean that in a good way, she definitely holds her own. She's strong and fierce, brave, compassionate, and so kind-hearted. Cecilia is sweet and funny and she's also extremely protective of the people she loves. She might have lied about Edward being her husband, but she didn't do it to hurt anyone and she truly is an honorable, good woman. I loved getting to know Cecilia - I just loved her period.
Well, I didn't start thinking until now which brother I loved more between George and Edward and it's tough to decide. They're really different but they both swept me off my feet. Edward is playful and sweet and gentle, but that's not to say that he can't be all growly and intense when he wants to be. It's so easy to tell how devoted he is to Cecilia, you never have to doubt it, not even for a minute. I loved so much about Edward, but that was what I loved most of all and while I think George is still in the lead, it was a pretty close call and I have no doubts that you will fall for Edward.
The Girl With the Make-Believe Husband made my heart ache and brought tears to my eyes. It made me laugh and smile and I had such a good time reading it. It was fun and exciting and there were times when I could not tear myself away. It was a lovely heartwarming tale and I can't wait for the next book or really any Julia Quinn book!
The Girl With the Make-Believe Husband can be read as a standalone, it's told from Edward and Cecilia's POV, and they do get their happily-ever-after.
~ Sonja, 5 Stars
Julia
Quinn is the New York Times bestselling
author of twenty-five novels for Avon Books, and one of only sixteen authors
ever to be inducted in the Romance Writers of America Hall of Fame. She lives
in the Pacific Northwest with her family.
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