# Download Lysistrata (Dover Thrift Editions), by Aristophanes

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First presented in 411 B.C., this ancient comedy concerns the efforts of Lysistrata, an Athenian woman, to persuade other woman to join together in a strike against the men of Greece, denying them sex until they've agreed to put down their arms and end the disastrous wars between Athens and Sparta.
When the strike begins, and the men respond, the comedic battle of the sexes that ensues makes this spirited play one of the most enjoyable of the classics. In it, Aristophanes employs a mixture of shrewd logic and raffish humor that fully exploits the rich comic potential of the story and its underlying antiwar sentiment. Always a favorite of audiences, Lysistrata, because of its pointed feminist sympathies, is studied and performed today more than ever.

• Sales Rank: #210867 in eBooks
• Published on: 2012-02-29
• Released on: 2012-02-29
• Format: Kindle eBook

Language Notes
Text: English (translation)
Original Language: Greek

About the Author
ARISTOPHANES, the most famous comic dramatist of ancient Greece, was born an Athenian citizen in about 445 B.C. Forty-four plays have been attributed to Aristophanes; eleven of these have survived. His plays are the only extant representatives of Greek Old Comedy, a dramatic form whose conventions made it inevitable that the author would comment on the political and social issues of fifth-century Athens. This Aristophanes did so well that Plato, asked by the tyrant of Syracuse for an analysis of Athenians, sent a copy of Aristophanes' plays in reply.
    
His earliest play, the Banqueters, won the second prize in 427 B.C. when the dramatist must have been less than eighteen years old, since, as he notes in the Clouds (423), he was too young to produce it in his own name. Another early play, the Babylonians, criticized the demagogue Cleon, who responded by subjecting Aristophanes to legal persecution, and as the author charges in the Acharnians, Cleon had "slanged, and lied, and slandered and betongued me . . . till I well nigh was done to death." Nevertheless, in the Knights (424), he renewed his attack on the popular Athenian leader and won first prize in that year's contest. Plutus (388) was the last of the author's plays to be produced in his lifetime.

Most helpful customer reviews

45 of 46 people found the following review helpful.
Pick your translation carefully
By moose/squirrel
Having read several different translations of Lysistrata, I can report that the one you select may make all the difference in your opinion of this early comedy. Roche's translation is very vulgar but has good footnotes: get ready for cockney Spartans, however. Jack Lindsay's translation, done in 1925 (included in the Bantam edition of Aristophanes) seems to be overly literary in comparison to the original but lacks notes. It reads well, though sounds a little old-fashioned. The bawdry is present but made less direct; in this one the Spartan dialect is Scottish.

I found Parker's translation to be the least satisfactory. The "hillbilly" dialect he gives the Spartans is painfully overdone,not to mention inaccurate, and the speeches are awkward and pedestrian. An excellent edition overall is Alan H. Sommerstein's in the Penguin Classic "Aristophanes: Lysistrata and Other Plays." The introduction and notes are extremely informative, and the translation itself strikes the right note to represent Aristophanes' style in English. (Once again, though, the Spartans are Scots.)

But perhaps the best choice is Sarah Ruden's 2003 edition. Her dialogue is unusually funny without straying too far from the original. Added value comes from her four very readable essays on Greek democracy, warfare, women, and comedy. It's also printed on quality paper and comes with a great cover!

33 of 36 people found the following review helpful.
Make love, not war!
By Michael J. Mazza
"Lysistrata," the play by Aristophanes, has been published in an anonymous translation as part of the Dover Thrift Editions series. The opening commentary on the text notes that this play dates back to 411 BCE. Aristophanes tells the story of his title character, an Athenian woman who, weary of war, conceives a bold plan: she enlists the women of Greece to refuse to have sex with their men until the men make peace.
The plot of this play is thus quite simple, but it is marvelously handled by the author. The play is a rich and effective mix of slapstick antics, bawdy wordplay, and biting sociopolitical commentary. At the center of this enjoyable play is the commanding figure of Lysistrata. Articulate and resolute, she is truly one of the great characters of world drama; she's a woman with a bold vision.
Although it is a funny comedy, "Lysistrata" does deal with some serious issues that remain relevant after all these centuries. Recommended as a companion text: "Necessary Targets," a play by Eve Ensler. This non-comedic drama also deals with the issue of women in a country at war.

24 of 26 people found the following review helpful.
Enormously enjoyable play! Should be a movie....
By EA Solinas
Lysistrata is perhaps my favorite of the Greek plays-it's never pompous or overbearing, and it never overwhelms itself with flowery prose. In addition, it's one of the few Greek plays I've read that portrays women as genuine human beings rather than murderers, decorations, or idiots. They're smart, sexy, and socially aware, especially in a time when they were very seriously repressed.
Lysistrata is an intelligent Athenian woman who is sick and tired of the Greek city-states warring against each other. She calls all the women she can round up and comes up with a strategy to end the wars: Keep away from their husbands' beds, and the men will make peace with other cities to make peace with their wives. After a great deal of whining, the women agree to deprive their husbands of sex until peace is achieved. But that's only the beginning of what Lysistrata has planned...
Too many feminist tales end up being heavy-handed-though women are on the side of peace and right in this, it doesn't bang you over the head. The men are human as well. The comedy is sly and witty (though full of mild sex talk--nothing too raunchy) and the scene where one young woman unmercifully teases her love-hungry husband will have you rolling.
I can see someone making this into a movie-in modern or ancient settings, the dialogue can still be deciphered without a translation program *wink*. It's a story about the power that women can wield and the lengths that they can go to.
Read, laugh, guffaw! You won't regret it!

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^^ Download The Imperfect Environmentalist: A Practical Guide to Clearing Your Body, Detoxing Your Home, and Saving the Earth (Without Losing Your Mind

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Actress, producer, mother, and imperfect environmentalist, Sara Gilbert understands how helping the environment can seem overwhelming. Between keeping up with work, friends, and kids, who has the time or money to maintain a compost pile, become an activist, or knit a sweater out of recycled grocery bags? Fortunately, we now know that small changes here and there in our everyday lives can make a big impact on the environment. We just need to know where to begin. That’s where Gilbert comes in, with this tongue-in-cheek reference guide packed full of helpful information, available at your fingertips. Read it cover to cover or just open it up to a random page; you can take what you want from it when you want. Whether you’ve got money to burn or have to crash on a friend’s couch, here are all of the eco-essentials to get the planet back on track, and you won’t have to hug a single tree—unless tree-hugging is your thing.
 
Sharing the basics on health and beauty, work and money, home and gardening, family and fitness, and more, The Imperfect Environmentalist cuts through the clutter—both in our homes and in our heads—and offers simple approaches to help us clear out the pollutants, put down the poisons, and begin to breathe easy again—one 100% recycled page at a time.

Advance praise for The Imperfect Environmentalist
 
“This book really opened my eyes. Then my eyes started stinging and tearing from all the toxins in the environment I’m now aware of. Thanks, Sara, I have a lot to do now.”—Lisa Kudrow
 
“Sara’s passion and commitment to the environment have given me an awareness that I never had before about our planet. I learn from Sara every day and she makes me want to be a better person. See, you can teach an old dog new tricks.”—Sharon Osbourne


From the Trade Paperback edition.

• Sales Rank: #335074 in eBooks
• Published on: 2013-08-13
• Released on: 2013-08-13
• Format: Kindle eBook

Review
Advance praise for The Imperfect Environmentalist
 
“This book really opened my eyes. Then my eyes started stinging and tearing from all the toxins in the environment I’m now aware of. Thanks, Sara, I have a lot to do now.”—Lisa Kudrow
 
“Sara’s passion and commitment to the environment have given me an awareness that I never had before about our planet. I learn from Sara every day and she makes me want to be a better person. See, you can teach an old dog new tricks.”—Sharon Osbourne

About the Author
Sara Gilbert is creator, executive producer, and co-host of CBS’s Emmy-nominated The Talk. She first captured America’s heart in her role as Darlene Conner in the long-running hit series Roseanne, for which she received two Emmy nominations. Since then she has appeared in movies and regularly on a variety of television shows, including The Big Bang Theory, ER, and 24. The vegan mother of two and a magna cum laude graduate of Yale, Gilbert has established herself in the Hollywood community and beyond as a trusted voice on family, health, parenting, and eco-conscious living.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
chapter one

clean eating and drinking

Why don’t we pay more attention to who our farmers are? We would never be as careless choosing an auto mechanic or babysitter as we are about who grows our food.

—­Michael Pollan, journalist and environmentalist, The Botany of Desire

We Are What We Eat

What we eat affects who we are, not just physically but emotionally and spiritually. For me, clean eating and drinking is about starting from the inside out. It’s the environmental issue closest to my heart and the place to begin. I became a vegetarian because I’m strict and weird and like to control things. I was thirteen, so I felt good all the time anyway. Years later, when I became a vegan, I ­really felt it in my body. I immediately had more energy and watched an extra layer of fat just melt off. When I began having some stomach problems, I started seeing food as medicine and became ­macrobiotic—my stomach was suddenly fine, my skin got clearer, my energy became even throughout the day, and my overall mood improved. This isn’t to say I’m not moody, but . . . not as moody. And to me ­that’s worth eating all the berries and twigs I can find.

Even the Water’s Not Safe?

Cut to the Chase, Hippie: ­What’s the Least I Need to Know?

Safe drinking water isn’t just something to worry about on your tropical vacation. U.S. tap water is ridden with arsenic, lead, and pharmaceutical drugs. In short: Get a filter.

Intriguing . . . I Can Handle a Little More

Tap water has been protected under the Safe Drinking Water Act since 1974, but experts warn that the water in our pipes increasingly ­doesn’t meet ­health-­safety guidelines. My tap water contains a horrifying thirty ­pollutants—­including ille­gal levels of ­by-­products from disinfectants, and dangerous amounts of arsenic and chloroform. How do I know? I went to the Environmental Working Group’s website and typed my zip code into the “What’s in your water?” tool. You can, too. ­Here’s their website: ­http://www.ewg.org/tap​-­water/​home.

So grab the bottled water off the ­grocery-­store shelf? Not so fast. Is that glass or plastic bottle going to wind up in a landfill? And just because it’s bottled ­doesn’t mean it’s chemical-­free. If the water in your area is suspicious, stay hydrated by investing in a filter for your tap. Currently the two most popular types of filters are reverse osmosis and ionizing or alkaline filters. There are arguments in favor of both sides, but basically proponents of reverse osmosis filters claim that they get the water more pure by actually removing most of the chemicals. People who like ionizing filters say that because of the purification process, reverse osmosis water is overly stripped of minerals and therefore “dead” and acidic. Since the water ­doesn’t have enough minerals, our bodies own are leached as we process it.

Fans of ionized water also say that it is more hydrating and boast that it is alkaline, which is supposed to be a good thing, I guess. So far there are no real comprehensive ­long-­term studies on which water is better, so go with your gut.

You can go to a hardware store or pick up a unit online where there are stores that specialize in water filters.

I chose a company called A Divine H2O since they offer a system that combines reverse osmosis with an alkaline system that remineralizes the water, because I figure more is more. Plus they set positive intentions on the tank in the back of their store, so I mean, how can I not buy happy water? Once your tap water is filtered, take it with you in a reusable stainless steel or glass container.

If you do need to rely on bottled water, choose a local brand in a glass bottle. I mean, do you ­really need your water to come from Fiji?

I Need Some Facts to Bore My Friends With

Why no plastic? Well, most water bottles are made with plastics called “polycarbonates,” which leak low levels of BPA into everything the plastic touches, including cool water. High BPA levels ­are associated ­with heart disease, diabetes, breast cancer, and abnormally high levels of certain liver enzymes. It’s one of many chemicals classified as an endocrine disruptor, which is why polycarbonates are banned for use in baby bottles in Europe and Canada. Good news: As I write this, BPAs have been banned in the United States, too. Because, hey, if BPAs ­aren’t good for Canadian babies, I’m going to bet they’re not that great for the rest of us.

Organic Matters: You Are What You Eat

Cut to the Chase, Hippie: ­What’s the Least I Need to Know?

Anything you’re going to eat without peeling should be organic, but the inside of organic produce is better, ­too—­with up to 40 percent higher levels of nutrients like vitamin C, zinc, and iron.

Intriguing . . . I Can Handle a Little More

My grandma used to say, “An apple a day keeps the doctor away,” but maybe not when that apple’s been treated with methylcyclopropene, a chemical gas that prevents fruit from ripening and makes that conventionally grown Fuji look fresh even if it’s a full year old. Yes. A year old. The only way to be sure your produce is fresh and ­pesticide-­free is to buy 100 percent certified organic food, which has to comply with regulations that severely limit the use of additives and fortifiers, and requires it be grown in a way that maintains the integrity of the soil and is in harmony with the larger ecosystem.

I Need Some Facts to Bore My Friends With

From personal health to global sustainability, organic food is truly at the heart of a sustainable lifestyle.

Every time you cook a meal with organic food, you’re not only doing your body a favor but the earth, too. Organic farming reduces pollutants in groundwater and creates richer soil that aids plant growth while reducing erosion. Now, that is a ­really boring ­fact—­don’t pull it out on a first date.

I’m Donald Trump

Buy all organic all the time and eat only at certified organic restaurants.

Okay, I’ve Got My Own Place, But I’ve Also Got Credit Card Debt

If you’re going to peel it, go ahead and buy the conventional produce, but when it comes to berries, make an organic vow—­nonorganic blueberries have been found to be laced with as many as ­fifty-­two different pesticides, and ­off-­season strawberries are often shipped from countries with no pesticide regulations.

I’m Sleeping on My Friend’s Couch and Eating Ramen Noodles

Wash nonorganic fruits and vegetables in a colander in the sink. Use a little baking soda and a nail brush and dry them off before eating. This will remove most of the pesticides and wax, making your produce safer to eat.

Eating Local: Because You ­Wouldn’t Drive All Day to Pick Up a Tomato

Cut to the Chase, Hippie: ­What’s the Least I Need to Know?

When eating out, ask your server ­what’s local. Order it.

Intriguing . . . I Can Handle a Little More

Buying and eating locally grown food is good for the local economy because it keeps our dollars circulating close to home. It’s environmentally friendly, because the food ­doesn’t have to be transported long distances, requiring both fuel and preservatives. And local fruits and vegetables are better for our ­health—­when food is picked ripe it tastes better and maintains its nutritional value.

I take my kids to the farmer’s ­market—­knowing I’m buying local and fresh makes the humiliation of the little ­choo-­choo train ride worthwhile.

If you don’t have a ­year-­round farmer’s market near you, ask your neighborhood grocer to offer more local options, or join a ­CSA—­that’s community supported agriculture, a popular way for consumers to buy seasonal food directly from area farmers. Go to http://www.localharvest.org for the ­low-­down on where to find the best food grown closest to where you live.

I Need Some Facts to Bore My Friends With

According to a study by the New Economics Foundation in London, every dollar spent locally generates twice as much income for the local economy. When businesses ­are owned remotely, money leaves the community with each and every transaction.

Produce ­that’s purchased in a supermarket has often been in transit or ­cold-­stored for days or weeks. In comparison, produce at your local farmer’s market has often been picked within the last twenty-­four hours.

And it turns out that eating local is even more important for air quality and pollution than eating organic. A 2005 Food Policy Journal study found that the miles organic food often travels to our plate creates environmental damage that outweighs the benefit of buying organic. So go to that farmer’s market, suffer the ­choo-­choo train, and buy local and organic.

I’m-a-Better-Mom-Than-You Bonus

If you join a CSA, you can visit the farm once or twice each season. With that personal connection, parents find that kids favor food from “their” ­farm—­even vegetables they’ve never been known to eat before.

Eating Out: From Greasy Spoons to Fine Green Dining

Cut to the Chase, Hippie: ­What’s the Least I Need to Know?

Stuck at an ­earth-­hating restaurant? Even if there ­aren’t specific local or organic options on a menu, you can reduce your environmental impact by ordering things lower on the food chain. For example, chicken has a lower environmental impact than beef, while sustainable seafood has a lower impact than chicken. Vegetarian and vegan items have the lowest impact of all.

Intriguing . . . I Can Handle a Little More

There are more certified organic restaurants than ever, and many feature seasonal and locally grown produce and ­hormone-free meat. Plan ­ahead—­before you’re faint from hunger, check out the Green Restaurant Association’s online “find a restaurant” search engine for your local options: http://dinegreen.com/customers/default.asp.

On a good day, you could find yourself in a restaurant that serves all natural options; otherwise, staying green and dining out is a matter of strategy. For businesses, there is a big difference between incorporating organic items into the menu and actual certification, so many restaurants serve food ­that’s somewhere between 100 percent organic and ­deep-­fried with MSG. Many menus will offer just a few organic or locally grown dishes; these restaurateurs are proud of their organic offerings and will most likely highlight them on the list. If you don’t see anything organic, ask for more information from your server. Your inquiry might result in just one green addition to your meal, but even the inquiry encourages restaurants to keep or add more natural choices. I personally ask so many questions at restaurants, I can only imagine what organic items have been put on my plate.

I Need Some Facts to Bore My Friends With

American restaurants throw away an estimated six thousand tons of food every day. All that food rotting in landfills contributes to global ­warming—­see, when it decomposes, it releases methane, a greenhouse gas ­twenty-­one times more damaging than carbon dioxide. So no matter what you’re eating or where you’re eating it, be conscious about how hungry you ­really are. And if you don’t mind people looking at you like you’re a total freak (yes, I’ve done it), bring your own ­to-­go container for leftovers. Even if only your dog or chicken is going to eat your old pizza, it’s better than letting it blow a hole in the ozone.

Where Does Your Meat Come From? Do You Even Want to Know?

Cut to the Chase, Hippie: ­What’s the Least I Need to Know?

Deforestation, animal cruelty, dangerous work conditions in packing ­plants—­the meat industry is a green nightmare at virtually every level. If you eat meat, buy it from smaller, local, certified organic ­sources—­it won’t contain added chemicals, antibiotics, or growth hormones.

Intriguing . . . I Can Handle a Little More

About 200,000 acres of rain forest are being destroyed every ­twenty-­four hours, mostly for cattle ranching. So while cows munch their way across the Amazon, only to be slaughtered and turned into greasy hamburgers, nearly half ­of the world’s species of plants, animals, and microorganisms are threatened due to deforestation. Speaking of hamburgers, because of the way large slaughterhouses operate, one study found that any single four-ounce patty was actually made up of anywhere from 55 to 1,082 different cows. Yes, you read that right. If ­that’s not enough, the cattle industry is also responsible for 18 percent of the world’s greenhouse emissions.

The global environmental picture aside, standard meat industry practices are cruel to both workers and animals. Workers in the ­meat-­packing industry are paid little for dangerous jobs in ­close-­quartered spaces littered with animal remains. In 2005, Human Rights Watch released a report called “Blood, Sweat, and Fear: Workers’ Rights in U.S. Meat and Poultry Plants,” which exposed basic human rights violations. It turns out that rates of injury, extreme tem­peratures, and denial of bathroom use are alarmingly commonplace.

As for the livestock, being raised for food means a life of torture. The factory farming industry strives to maximize profits by cramming animals into tiny, filthy spaces, drugging them to fatten them faster and keep them alive in deadly living conditions, and genetically altering them to grow bigger or to produce more milk or eggs.

When local organic meat isn’t available, you might opt for a local Muslim butcher. Halal meat is raised and slaughtered in somewhat more humane conditions. Praying five times a day optional.

I Need Some Facts to Bore My Friends With

Of the ­thirty-­two pounds of feed your average cow consumes in a day, 75 percent of that is corn. But corn isn’t good for the land, and it isn’t good for cows. First of all, corn is grown as a monoculture, meaning that the land is used just for corn and isn’t rotated, which depletes soil nutrients, contributes to erosion, and ends up requiring more pesticides and fertilizer that, in turn, have been linked to oceanic “dead zones” and endocrine disruptions in animals, such as turning male frogs into hermaphrodites. As for the cows, their stomachs weren’t made to digest corn. With the masses of corn being devoured, cows develop ­acidosis—­or ­really terrible cow heartburn. “Acidotic animals go off their feed, pant and salivate excessively, paw and scratch their bellies, and eat dirt,” says author Michael Pollan. “The condition can lead to diarrhea, ulcers, bloat, rumenitis, liver disease, and a general weakening of the immune system.” Sound appetizing?

The ­Drive-­thru: Going Nowhere Fast

Cut to the Chase, Hippie: ­What’s the Least I Need to Know?

National ­fast-­food joints sell a hydrogenated fat and high-­fructose corn syrup dining ­experience—­it’s cheap in the short term, but it’s deadly. If there’s a healthier way to eat at a ­fast-­food restaurant, it’s probably to drink water and order a salad without dressing. Actually, hold the water, since ­that’s in a plastic bottle; and might as well hold the salad, too, since ­that’s probably modified and certainly full of pesticides.

Most helpful customer reviews

117 of 120 people found the following review helpful.
this is sara gilbert
By sara gilbert
This is Sara Gilbert. Thank you so much for your reviews. I was unaware that the kindle was priced higher than the paperback originally but learned about it because of your responses. I am grateful for your awareness and so sorry this happened. Now that it has been pointed out, I am making sure that it is corrected. See? People CAN make a difference. I hope you enjoy the book.

24 of 26 people found the following review helpful.
It's a Reference Book
By Book Lover
It's a book that I can just just pick up and find out what I need to know at the time that I need it without having to read a hundred pages of scientific findings that my schedule will not allow. Thanks, Sara. You put a lot of time and work into this book so others can be well informed about what's going on in this world in a simple and uncomplicated way. You go, girl! By the way...I purchased both the book and the Kindle version so that I will always have it on hand.

12 of 12 people found the following review helpful.
Pretty easy read
By Nikki Hipps
Informative without being too boring or preachy. Written with a sense of humor as well as the understanding that some of us don't have the ability to be vegan or vegetarian. I think I will be a smarter, better consumer having read this book.

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The Imperfect Environmentalist: A Practical Guide to Clearing Your Body, Detoxing Your Home, and Saving the Earth (Without Losing Your Mind PDF
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# PDF Ebook The Eccentropedia: The Most Unusual People Who Have Ever Lived, by Chris Mikul

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An A-Z of eccentrics! 250 true stories of the most original and outrageous people on earth, from bad poets to transsexual evolutionary theorists this encyclopedic guide covering ancient times to the present, includes reams of material never seen in book form before. Famous eccentrics like King Ludwig, Salvador Dalí and Howard Hughes rub shoulders with a host of lesser-known, but equally colorful, characters in these -- mostly -- life-affirming stories. There are unsuspected parallels and connections throughout creating an alternative, off-kilter history of the world.

• Sales Rank: #1362916 in eBooks
• Published on: 2013-09-11
• Released on: 2013-09-11
• Format: Kindle eBook

Review
"E-gads, what a book! Impossible to put down." -- The Spectator for Bizarrism

"... be reassured by these tales of real eccentricity, or if you're trying to stand out take some tips from the experts." -- Beat Magazine for Bizarrism

About the Author
Chris Mikul grew up in Sydney, Australia, a city with a particularly rich heritage of eccentrics. He's spent years researching the lives of these splendid individuals, whose lives shine so brightly amidst a sea of dull conformity.

Glenn "Glenno" Smith is an artist living in Sydney with his beautiful wife Gina and cats, Pishy and Cha-chi. His work can be seen on www.glennoart.com.au.

Most helpful customer reviews

4 of 4 people found the following review helpful.
The best reference book of the bizarre you'll find
By Jon Konrath
This book is epic. We're talking about 500+ pages, dictionary-style, of bizarre, abnormal, eccentric individuals from the ages. The author includes for categories for consideration: contrarians, theorists, visionaries, and entertainers. All of my favorites are here: visionaries with horrible personal quirks, like Tesla and his pigeons, or Howard Hughes and his jars of pee and hotel room bunkers; writers like Burroughs and artists like Warhol; the guy that built the coral castle down in Florida; and Hiroo Onoda, the Japanese soldier who was still operating command-style until 1974, unaware that WW2 had ended.

But what makes this book such a joy is that I could flip open to any random page and find someone I didn't even know existed, people who were janitors by day but wrote 11,000-page novels at night, only discovered after their death; people building castles and starting cults and living on a dollar a year even though they were millionaires and digging out massive underground gardens in Fresno that looked like Italian catacombs. As a kid, I practically memorized the Guinness book of world records, so I absolutely eat this stuff up.

This book is the ultimate bathroom reader, something to open to a random page for a quick entry or two, but it's also hugely entertaining to read from A to Z. Keep a copy of wikipedia handy and wander down the k-hole when you find a good entry, but be warned that this could make the book take a month to finish. Highly recommended.

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful.
Five Stars
By david T. brinkmann
Excellent book!!!

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
It is fun, but I think that a few could have ...
By JC
It is fun, but I think that a few could have been left out. If you like this sort of thing is is worth checking out!

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^^ Get Free Ebook Never Trust a Rake, by Annie Burrows

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Rumor has it that the Earl of Deben, the most notorious rake in Londoon and in need of an heir, has set aside his penchant for married mistresses and turned his skilled hand to seducing innocents!

But if Lord Deben expects Henrietta Gibson to respond to the click of his fingers he can think again. For she knows perfectly well why she should avoid gentlemen of his bad repute:

1. One touch of his lips and he'll ruin her for every other man.

2. One glide of his skillful fingers to the neckline of her dress will leave her molten in his arms.

3. And if even one in a thousand rumors is true, it's enough for her to know she can never, ever trust a rake….

• Sales Rank: #482650 in eBooks
• Published on: 2013-02-01
• Released on: 2013-02-01
• Format: Kindle eBook

About the Author
Annie Burrows love of stories meant that when she was old enough to go to university, she chose to do English literature. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do beyond that, but one day, when her youngest child was at senior school, she began to wonder if all those daydreams that had kept her mind occupied whilst carrying out mundane chores, would provide similar pleasure to other women. She was right… and Annie hasn’t looked back since!

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Ye Gods, he'd known it would not be easy, but he hadn't expected them all to be quite so predictable.

Lord Deben strode out on to the terrace, deserted since the night air was damp with drizzle, made it to the parapet and leaned heavily on the copingstone, where he drew in several deep breaths of air blessedly unadulterated by perfume, sweat and candle grease.

First to run true to form had been tonight's hostess, Lady Twining. Her eyes had practically popped out of her head when she'd recognised exactly upon whose arm the Dowager Lady Dalrymple was leaning. He had only ever once before had anything to do with a come-out ball, and that had been his own sister's—a glittering affair which he'd hosted himself some four years ago. He could see Lady Twining wondering why on earth he had suddenly decided to accompany such a stickler for good form to such an insipid event, held in the home of a family who would never aspire to be part of his usual, racy set.

While they had slowly mounted the stairs, he'd watched her rapidly working out how to deal with the dilemma his attendance posed. She could hardly refuse to admit him, since she'd sent his godmother an invitation and he was evidently acting as her escort. But, oh, how she wanted to. She clearly felt that letting him in amongst the virtuous damsels currently thronging her corridors would be like opening the hen-house door to a prowling fox.

But she didn't have the courage to say what she was thinking. And by the time he'd arrived at the head of the receiving line, it was all what an honour to welcome you into our home, my lord, and we did not think to have such an august presence as yours…

No. She had not actually said that last phrase, but that was what she'd meant by all that gushing and fluttering. The presence of a belted earl was such a social coup for her that it far outweighed the potential danger he posed to the moral tone of the assembly.

And as for those assembled guests—his lip curled in utter contempt. They had divided neatly into two camps: those who reacted solely to his reputation by clucking and fluttering like outraged hens in defence of their precious chicks and those, he grimaced, with an eye to the main chance.

He'd felt their beady eyes following his progress into the house. Heard the whispered swell of speculation. Why was he here? And with Lady Dalrymple, of all people? Was it a sign that this Season he was at last going to do his duty to his family and take a wife?

On the outside chance that the most notorious wom-aniser of his generation, the most dangerous flirt, was actually going to look about him for a woman to take her place at his side in society, as his legally wed countess, the most ambitious amongst them had promptly begun elbowing each other aside in their determination to thrust their simpering charges under his nose.

The fact that they'd guessed correctly didn't make their approaches any less repellent. Which was why he would have to attend more events such as this and endure the vapid discourse that passed for conversation and the gauche mannerisms…and sometimes even the spotty complexions. How else could a man be absolutely sure that his first child, at least, was of his own get unless he married a girl who'd only just emerged from the schoolroom? And the duty he owed his proud lineage made that an absolute imperative.

But did they really think he'd propose to the first chit he met, at the first event he attended since he'd made up his mind it was time, and past time, he knuckled down to the fate his position made inescapable?

He leaned back and tilted his face to the rain. It managed to cool his skin, even if it could do nothing to soothe the roiling bitterness churning in his guts. Nothing could do that.

Unless… He stilled, as the most fantastic thought occurred to him. He didn't think he could face many more such events as this. And what was there to choose between all those pallid, eager, young females, after all? Why the hell shouldn't he just propose to the very first chit to cross his path when he went back inside? That would at least get the whole unpleasant business over and done with as quickly and painlessly as possible.

What would it take—a year out of his life? Propose to one of those girls who'd been paraded before him like brood mares at Tattersalls. Get the banns read, go through the travesty of a ceremony, bed her, then keep on bedding her until he could be certain she was increasing. Hope that the child was a boy. Then, with the succession sorted, he could return to his carefree existence and she could.

He sucked in a short, sharp breath, bowing his head again as he considered what his wife would get up to, left to her own devices.

Anything. Anything and everything. Nobody knew better than he just how far bored young matrons would go in the pursuit of sexual adventure.

With an exclamation of impatience he pulled his watch from his waistcoat pocket and turned to catch the light from the ballroom windows so that he could check the time. His brow raised in disbelief. Had he only been in this house for thirty minutes? It could be hours before Lady Dalrymple was ready to leave. She would want to watch the dancing, gossip with those of her cronies who were present and take supper.

So be it. His mouth twisted with distaste. He had to fill in the time somehow, so it might as well be following his impulse to deal with the marriage situation as swiftly and cleanly as possible. He would return to the ballroom and ask the first girl to cross his path to dance with him. If she accepted, and if he didn't find her too repulsive, he would locate her father and start talking settlements.

There. The whole abominable, damnable thing settled. He would not even have to alert the ton to his intent by setting foot in that hellhole known as Almack's.

And yet, when he replaced his watch in his pocket, his feet remained welded to the spot. And his gaze stayed fixed straight ahead, though his eyes were not seeing the dampening gardens below the terrace, but the abyss into which he was about to throw himself.

It would not matter if he could not grow to like the anonymous chit who waited for him inside that house very much, as long as he could contemplate bedding her for the requisite amount of time to get an heir. If he didn't grow fond of her, she wouldn't have the power to hurt him. Humiliate him. He could watch her carrying on her love affairs with the same kind of amused indifference displayed by all the husbands he'd cuckolded over the years. Whose bored, dissatisfied wives had been actively seeking younger, more energetic men to provide them with the spice their dutifully contracted marriages so singularly lacked.

Within the bounds of such a lukewarm arrangement, he might even be able to tolerate her offspring. Perhaps even treat them with kindness, rather than calling them bastards to their face. And they'd think of each other as brothers and sisters, and care for and support each other, instead of.

A swell of music issuing from the ballroom pulled him abruptly from the maelstrom of negativity that always churned through him whenever a stray thought escaped its confines and crept back towards his childhood.

He turned slowly, annoyed to have his brief interlude of solitude interrupted, though he hadn't expected to see a female silhouette in the doorway that led back to the house.

'Why, Lord Deben!'

The girl gasped and raised her hand to her throat in a dramatic gesture, intended, he supposed cynically, to betoken surprise.

'I did not think anyone else would be out here,' she said, glancing along the length of the otherwise deserted terrace and back.

'Why, indeed, would anyone venture forth in such inclement weather?'

Undeterred by the dryness of his tone, she advanced a step or two and giggled.

'I should not be out here with you, all alone, should I? Mama says you are dangerous.'

Now that she was closer he could see she was quite a pretty little thing. Good features, clear skin, expensively and fashionably clad. And well used to male attention, to judge from the way she was preening under his leisurely, not to say insolent, perusal of her assets.

'Your mama is correct. I am dangerous.'

'I am not afraid of you,' she said, sashaying right up to him. She came so close that the perfume she wore wafted to his nostrils from her hot little body. She was breathing hard. She was excited. A little nervous, too, but mostly excited.

'You have never been known to harm a virtuous damsel,' she said breathily. 'Your reputation has all been gained with young matrons, or widows.'

'Your mama should have warned you that it is not the thing to discuss a man's amours with him.'

She smiled. Knowingly.

'But, Lord Deben,' she murmured, sliding one hand up the lapel of his jacket, 'I am sure you want your future wife to understand these things. To be understanding…'

He gripped her hand and detached it from his clothing, filled with a gut-deep revulsion.

'On the contrary, madam, that is the last thing I want from the woman I shall marry.'

It was no good. He was more like his father than he'd thought. Even if he took the greatest care never to fall in love with his own wife, he wouldn't be able to bear the thought of her being understanding. Of expecting him to carry on as though he was still a bachelor, so that she could enjoy her own sexual adventures.

In short, of becoming a cuckold.

'You had better return to the ballroom. As you yourself said, it is quite improper of you to be out here, alone, with a man like me.'

She pouted. 'It is absurd of you to preach propriety, when everyone knows you have never had any time for it.'

Then, in a move so swift it took him completely by surprise, she flung both arms about his neck.

'God dammit, what are you about?' He reached up and tried to disentangle himself from her hold. He managed to prise one hand off, but then she dropped her fan, leaving her other hand free to find purchase. When he stepped smartly back in a more determined effort to evade her grasping hands, she clung tighter, so that he found himself dragging her with him.

'Let go of me, you impudent baggage,' he growled. 'I do not know what you think you will achieve by flinging yourself at me like this, but…'

There was a shriek. Light flooded the terrace as the doors from the house burst open. The girl who had been clinging so tenaciously slumped against him, pressing her cheek to his chest.

'Lord Deben!' A well-built matron stalked towards him, her jowls quivering with indignation. 'Let go of my daughter this instant!'

He still had his hands on her wrists, from when he'd been trying to prise her off. As he attempted to push her upright, she gave a little moan and arched theatrically backwards, as though in a faint. Instinctively, he caught her as she began to fall. And though part of him would have dearly liked to let her slump into a crumpled heap on the damp flagstones, another part of him knew that were he to give in to such a base instinct, it would only make the situation look worse for him.

At any moment, another person might take it into their heads to come outside, and what would they see? The wicked Lord Deben standing over the prone body of a shocked, half-ravished innocent? Or the wicked Lord Deben standing with the swooning victim of his attempted seduction clasped in his arms? With the indignant mother demanding the release of his supposed victim?

Whichever tableau they would see, the outcome would be the same. These two females would expect him to make reparation by marrying this scheming little baggage.

He had never been so angry in his whole life. Caught in the kind of trap a greenhorn should have seen coming. And on his first foray into the world of so-called innocents! How could he have so woefully underestimated the predatory nature of womankind? He'd dismissed those virtually indistinguishable white-clad girls in the ballroom as vapid, brainless ciphers. But this girl had a quick mind. And an immense amount of ambition. He was the wealthiest, youngest, most highly ranking man she was ever likely to get within what he guessed was her limited social reach. And she had taken ruthless advantage of his momentary lapse of concentration to compromise him. She didn't care a whit for his character. Or have a qualm about marrying a man she believed was incapable of fidelity. In fact, she'd told him she would condone it.

What was worse, the chit was not to know he was, in actual fact, looking for a wife. For all she knew, he was still an obdurate rake.

And yet she had persisted in setting out to ruthlessly snare him.

Cunning, ambitious, ruthless and amoral. If his mother were still alive, she would have seen this girl as a kindred spirit.

'It is quite obvious what has been going on out here,' said the girl's mother, drawing herself up to her full height. Then, just as he'd expected, she said, 'You must make amends.'

'Offer marriage, you mean?' That did it. He no longer cared if the old besom did think him ungallant. He thrust her clinging daughter from him with such determination she tottered a few steps and had to clutch at her mother to prevent herself tripping over.

Had he really been toying with the idea of proposing to the first apparently eligible female to cross his path? Was he mad? If he married a creature like this one, history would repeat itself, with the added twist that he would never be entirely certain who had fathered any of the children for whom he would be obliged to provide.

He leaned back against the balustrade and folded his arms. He was just about to inform them that no power on earth would induce him to offer this girl his name when another voice cried out, 'Oh, please, it is not what it looks like!'

The three of them at his end of the terrace whirled towards the shadows at the far end, from whence the voice had emanated.

He could just make out a slender female form wriggling out from between two massive earthenware planters, behind which she had clearly been concealing herself.

'For one thing,' the still-shadowed girl said, reaching down to free her gown from some unseen obstruction, 'I was out here the whole time. Miss Waverley was never alone with Lord Deben.'

Most helpful customer reviews

8 of 9 people found the following review helpful.
Brilliant
By Sandy Milan
It's been an age since I've given 5 stars to a book and I'm so grateful that I've finally broken my dry spell. I loved this book.

Basically the h is a simple country girl brought up by a scholarly father with 4 brothers. She finally asks her father for a season in London at the grand age of 22 because she wants to follow Richard, who she fancies herself in love with. She meets the H at a ball where she was hiding after suffering rejection from Richard. The H is accosted by a scheming young lady who wants to trap him, the h witnesses the whole story and comes to his rescue. After that the H who is a very jaded rake, takes an interest in the h, who isn't the usual type of beauty that he is drawn to. The story then evolves and we witness their various encounters and escapades along the way. I love the banter between them and I love the way the H finally starts to come around because of how genuine the h is. The H is far from perfect and has many unlikable qualities in the beginning but the author does such a skillful job of redeeming him, that by the end I was really rooting for him.

I really do recommend this book.

8 of 10 people found the following review helpful.
`Mama says you are dangerous'...
By eyes.2c
3 1/2 stars

...so declares the scheming young thing to confirmed rake Lord Deben on the darkened terrace.

Burrows' opening salvo has Henrietta Gibson rescuing Lord Deben from a determined debutante's attempt to entrap him into marriage. A hidden witness, Henrietta turns the young woman's story into one of a `slight' mishap easily misunderstood. Marriage for Lord Deben is averted. Henrietta's charitable act towards the notorious rake makes her a target for the disgruntled pair and she teeters on the brink social disaster.
Twenty-two and experiencing the London social scene, Henrietta is a likeable character.
Lord Deben is fascinating and misunderstood.
A charming Regency romp with which to while away an afternoon.

A Netgalley ARC

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful.
This is One Rake You can Trust
By Judge Tabor
Although the tale of the rake and young innocent maiden has been told many times by various authors - some enthralling and others leaving much to be desired - this story by Annie Burrows was a great read.

The Rake: Lord Deben has a reputation of keeping a string of mistresses, then once tired of that game, he apparently moved on to widows and bored married women. But, it is time to beget an heir, so he very reluctantly attends a ball to look over the debs. He goes outdoors where he ponders upon this odious task and thinks perhaps he will walk back into the ballroom and pick the first young lady he encounters and begin courting her with the intention of making her his wife. Once he begets two or three children on her, he will allow her to have free rein and he will also go back to his bachelor lifestyle. After all, his parents had a horrible marriage, with his mother bearing several children who did not belong to his father and he has a most cynical view of women and would not trust one at all.

The Deb: Miss Henrietta Gibson was raised in a household of brothers and a scholarly father - younger son of a baron. Her father's passion was books and more books. When he came out of his brain fog long enough to realize Henrietta had reached the ripe old age of 22 years and had not yet had a Season, he immediately reached out to her Aunt Ledbetter who was not considered good "ton" being married to a Cit to ask her to take Henrietta to London for a Season. Aunt Ledbetter was a sweet, good natured woman and was glad to have Henrietta to pop off along with her own daughter, Mildred. Problem was, once they arrived in town, they weren't invited to al the upscale events because of the Ledbetters' lowly status.

For Henrietta's part, she has longed to go to London not just for the Season but because her long time neighbor, Richard, and the man she felt she was in love with was there. However, much to her dismay, the one time Richard calls upon Henrietta in London, he criticizes her relatives and her father's decision to have them sponsor Henrietta. He also makes it clear that he will not have time for Henrietta, so she will be pretty much on her own. In fact, Richard's exact words to her were, "You belong in the country, not in a rackety place like London."

First Meeting Between Lord Deben and Henrietta: Lord Deben is outside the ballroom on the verandah trying to decide upon his course of action, when he is accosted by a lovely deb - Miss Waverley. In a few moments, she has made sure they are found in a compromising position by her mother. Unbeknownst to Lord Deben, Miss Waverley and her mother, there is another witness to the debacle. Henrietta has been hiding in the bushes crying her heart out over Richard but soon realizes she will have to step up in order to "save" Miss Waverley's reputation - not realizing the game being played.

Henrietta is a sweet, honest to goodness, all around great girl and not the shrinking violet one might be led to believe from her crying jag. She doesn't begin to comprehend that she has impressed Lord Deben beyond measure and that he has set himself to watch over her and help her throughout the Season. He knows that Miss Waverley is a little witch and she will do everything she can to make life difficult for Henrietta - something Deben cannot and will not tolerate. When Deben makes his first call at Aunt Ledbetter's home to pay his respects to Henrietta and take her for a turn in the park, all of Society is stumped and soon the Ledbetters and Henrietta are getting invites to all the best homes and events of the season.

Deben's and Henrietta's relationship growth is sweet, tenuous, spicy and they soon fall for one another but each believes that they are alone in their "fall" - this contributes to some misunderstandings but not the "HUGE" misunderstanding that some of us hate to have in our stories. I loved this story and I especially loved the fact that mean old Richard got his comeuppance at the end, in a very public way. I look forward to reading more books by this author.

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* Download Classical Music: A Beginner's Guide (Beginner's Guides), by Julian Johnson

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What does classical music mean to the Western World? How has it transformed over the centuries? What relevance does it have today? Julian Johnson inspires readers to explore over 1000 years of music, and examines how music is related to some of the big ideas of Western experience including spirituality, emotion, the weight of history, and self identity. Julian Johnson is currently Professor of Music at Royal Holloway, University of London. He is also a composer and public speaker on musicology, championing the relevance of classical music to the general public.

• Sales Rank: #500231 in eBooks
• Published on: 2012-12-01
• Released on: 2012-12-01
• Format: Kindle eBook

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5 of 5 people found the following review helpful.
Working well for a summer course text
By Susan Louise Harvey
I chose this book as a text for a 10 week summer college course in Music and Western Culture, and it appears to be working very well. The emphasis is on how music is viewed and what kind of cultural work music does in each of the historical periods.

2 of 2 people found the following review helpful.
This is a Great Book!
By Szizmo
I fell in love with this book when I read the very first page of it. I skipped to the Musical Romanticism section because that's where I am in my teaching of a classical music appreciation class in several senior residences. I love the way the author writes, and I use this book for most of my "Talking Points" each month. I have probably two dozen other books on music, but this has quickly become my very favorite of all of them. I also bought one of his other books, Who Needs Classical Music? and I like it very much, too. I read some of the negative views of this latter book, but I'm standing on the side of the author completely. I'll be looking for more of his books, as well as some of the other Oneworld Beginner's Guides.

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^^ Ebook Download El verano de mi vida (Palabras abiertas) (Spanish Edition), by Maryann McFadden

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Ahora que sus hijos se han ido de casa, Joanna Harrison se enfrenta al vacío y la soledad. Poco atendida por su marido, Paul, un exitoso directivo, siente que es el momento de dar un cambio drástico a su existencia. Un buen día abandona su casa dejando una breve nota como toda explicación y se instala en la turística isla de Pawleys. En su nueva vida, Joanna conoce a personajes como Grace, una anciana que la acoge en su casa, o el atractivo Hank. Pero también en la vida de Paul se producen grandes cambios y decide viajar a Pawleys para intentar recuperar a su esposa.

• Sales Rank: #413594 in eBooks
• Published on: 2012-10-26
• Released on: 2012-10-26
• Format: Kindle eBook

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## PDF Download Haunted by the Earl's Touch (Harlequin Historical Book 1), by Ann Lethbridge

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No man has ever wanted her for herself

When she arrives at Beresford Abbey, orphan Mary Wilder's hopes of finding a place to belong are dashed when she meets Bane Beresford, the enigmatic earl. He is as remote as the ghosts that supposedly haunt the Abbey…and, like its crumbling walls, her dreams fall apart.

Occasionally she sees a different, more caring man behind the facade, so is she foolish to long for a happy home…and a family? His proposal is for a marriage of convenience, but his touch has awakened within her a fervent and forbidden longing….

• Sales Rank: #652057 in eBooks
• Published on: 2013-02-01
• Released on: 2013-02-01
• Format: Kindle eBook

About the Author
Ann Lethbridge majored in history and business. She always loved the glamorous, if rather risky, Georgians and in particular the Regency era as drawn by Georgette Heyer. It was that love that prompted her to write her first Regency novel in 2000. She found she enjoyed it so much she just couldn’t stop! Ann gave up a career in university administration to focus on her first love, writing novels and lives in Canada with her family. Visit her website at: www.annlethbridge.com

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
The wind keened outside the ancient walls of Beresford Abbey. Bane, following on the heels of the ancient butler along the stone passageway, noticed that only one sconce in five had been lit. Blown out by draughts? Or a sign of his welcome? No matter which, the gloom suited his mood.

'You should have left the dog in the stables,' the butler muttered over his shoulder.

Bane glance down at Ranger, part-lurcher, part-wolfhound, pressed to his left side. 'The dog stays with me.'

The butler tutted. 'And how shall I announce you, sir?' He gestured to the open door a few feet along the gloomy corridor.

A wry smile twisted Bane's lips. Was there a protocol to be followed? If so, he didn't know it. 'I'll announce myself.'

Looking shocked, but also relieved, the doddering old man turned back, shuffling down the dim stone corridor shaking his head. A wise old bird for whom discretion was the better part of valour.

Bane approached the doorway on feet silenced by carpet. He paused at the entrance to the cavernous chamber. The flickering light from ten-foot-high torcheres on each side of the heavily carved four-poster bed fell on the features of the shrunken man propped up by pillows. A face lined by dissipation and framed by thin strands of yellowing grey hair straggling out from beneath a blue silken nightcap. Bony shoulders hunched in silk valuable enough to feed a family of four for a year shook with a spasm of coughing.

A dead man breathing his last. Finally. The chill inside Bane spread outwards as he took in the others clustered at the edge of the circle of light. Two women, three men, some of whom he recognised as family. He'd investigated all of his relatives to avoid unnecessary surprises.

The older woman was his aunt, his grandfather's daughter, Mrs Hampton, returned home as a widow. Her gown was the first stare of fashion as befitted her station. Tight curls of grey hair beneath a lace cap framed a middle-aged but still arresting face. As a young woman she'd been lovely, according to his mother, and too proud to make a friend of a lass from Yorkshire. At her side stood her son, Gerald, an almost too-pretty lad of seventeen with a petulant mouth and vivid blue eyes. The other young man was a distant fourth cousin. A Beresford through and through, slight, dapper, with blond hair and light blue eyes and a man his grandfather would have been happy to see as his heir had Bane not stood in the way.

An aspiring tulip of fashion in his early twenties, Bane had seen Jeffrey Beresford in town. They had no friends in common, but they bowed in passing—an acknowledgement of mutual distrust.

The other woman he did not know. Young, with a willowy figure, standing a good head taller than Mrs Hampton, she had inches on both young men. A Beresford also? She had the blonde hair and blue eyes to match the name, though she was dressed simply, in some dark stuff bespeaking modesty rather than style. The desire to see that statuesque body in something more revealing caused his throat to close. Surprised him.

As a boy he'd had lusty thoughts about anything in skirts. As a man, a businessman, he had more important things on his mind. Women like her wanted home and hearth and a man to protect them. His life was about taking risks. Gambling all, on the chance for profit. No woman should live with such uncertainty. They were too delicate, too easily broken as his mother had been broken. The pain of her death had been unbearable. Not something he ever intended to experience again. Nor was it necessary. He was quite content to avoid the respectable ones while enjoying those who only wanted money in exchange for their favours, the demi-monde.

So why couldn't he keep his eyes from this most respectable-looking of females? Who was she? He wasn't aware of a female cousin, close or distant. Not that there couldn't be a whole host of relatives he didn't know about, since he didn't give a damn about any of them. But as his gaze ran over the girl, a prickle of awareness raised the hairs on the back of his neck. A sensation of familiarity so strong, he felt the urge to draw closer and ask for her name.

Yet he was positive they had never met. Perhaps it was the wariness in her expression that had him intrigued.

A blinding flash of lightning beyond the mullioned windows lit the room in a ghostly light. An image seared on Bane's vision. Stark otherworldly faces. Mouths dark pits in pale skin as the air moved with their startled gasps. They looked like the monsters who had peopled his childish nightmares. His enemies. The people who wanted him dead, according to his uncle. His mother's brother.

In truth, he hadn't expected to see family members here. He'd preferred to think of the old man alone and friendless as he gasped his last.

Just like Bane's mother.

If not for this man, his mother might be alive today and the guilt of her death would not weigh so heavily on Bane's shoulders. No matter how often he tried to put the blame where it belonged, on the man in the bed, he could not deny his own part in the events of that day. His thoughtless anger that had put her at risk. Hell, even his very existence, the reason she had run from this house in the first place.

Power and wealth brought invulnerability. His mother had drilled it into him since the day he could understand his place in the world. And that was why he was here. That and to see the old man off to the next world. He simply couldn't pass up the chance to see the dismay in the old earl's gaze.

He could count the number of times he and the old man had met face to face on one hand. But he had always been there, in the shadows, a threatening presence. Forcing his will where it was not wanted. Guiding Bane's education, trying to choose his friends, but his mother's brother had been more than a match for the earl. Bane still remembered his horror as he stood with his uncle on the doorstep of this house and listened to an argument over him, about money, about cruelty and murder. Accusations that had haunted him as a youth. Fed his anger at this man.

But his temper was not the hot flash of his youth, the kind that brought trouble to him and those around him. It was a cold burn in his gut, controlled, and carefully directed. Guilt over his mother's death had taught him that lesson.

Since then, Bane had striven to be the gentleman his mother always wanted him to be. He had battled for the respect of the scions of other noble houses at school and held his head high. But at heart he was the son of a coalminer's daughter. And proud of it. Mining was in his blood and showed in the scars on his knuckles and the muscles in his shoulders developed at the coalface.

He was more Walker than Beresford, whether or not he had any Beresford blood.

The lightning faded. Shadows once more reclaimed all but the man in the bed. As his coughing subsided, the earl's gnarled fingers clawed at the bedsheets, then beckoned.

Resistance stiffened Bane's spine. He wasn't about to be called to heel like some slavering cur. But, no, apparently this particular summons was not for him. The old man must not have seen him yet, since it was the two women who moved towards the bed, Mrs Hampton nudging the younger one ahead of her, making her stumble.

Bane took a half-step, a warning on his lips, but the girl recovered inches from the earl's warding hand, mumbling an apology.

Who was she? Some indigent relative looking for crumbs in the final hours? There would be no crumbs for any one of them. Not if Bane had a say.

'So you are Mary.' The old man's voice sounded like a door creaking in the wind. 'She said you were no great beauty, but not that you were a beanpole. You take after your father.'

'You knew my father?' the girl asked, and Bane sensed how keenly she awaited his answer. Her body seemed to vibrate with the depth of her interest.

The old man grimaced. 'I met him once. Kneel, girl. I'm getting a crick in my neck.'

Like a supplicant, the girl sank down. Anger rose hot and hard in Bane's throat on the girl's behalf, but she seemed unperturbed by the command and gazed calmly into the dying man's face.

She spoke again, but her low voice did not reach all the way to Bane in the shadows beside the door.

The old man glared at her, lifted a clawed hand to twist her chin this way and that. Glimpses of her profile showed strong classical features, a straight aristocratic nose. Lush, full lips. A narrow jaw ending in a decided chin. Not a classical beauty, but a face full of character.

The sight of the old man's hands on her delicate skin caused Bane's hands to fist at his sides, made him want to go to her rescue. An impulse he instantly crushed. A weak old man could do her no harm. And Bane had no interest in her, despite her allure.

She was not his type of woman.

Ranger growled, more a vibration under his hand than a sound. Bane glanced down at the dog and signalled him to settle. By the time he looked back, the old man had released his grip on the young woman. 'No,' the old man said, answering the question Bane had not heard. 'My reasons are my own.'

The girl's shoulders seemed to slump, as if she had hoped for a different response.

Bane remained still in the shadows, content to watch a little longer, content to choose his own moment to reveal his presence.

The old man peered into the shadows on the other side of the bed. 'She'll do,' he said with a triumphant leer. His smile was a mirthless drawing back of lips over crooked yellow teeth.

The woman, Mary, jerked back. 'I have given my thanks, my lord, I do not need your approval.' Her words rang with defiance. Brave words, but the voice shook.

Bane ruthlessly quelled a tiny surge of pity. He had no room for pity or mercy.

Beresford wheezed a laugh. 'Bold piece, ain't you. No milk-and-water miss. All the better.' He flicked his fingers in dismissal. The girl rose to her feet and turned.

Bane knew the moment she saw him. The widening of her eyes, the hesitation, the flare of recognition in her gaze, not recognition of him as a person, but of his presence. The connection between them was a tangible thing, a twisting invisible thread that kept their gazes locked. And he felt ..something. A tightening of his body. The kind that heralded lust. Not something he wanted or needed right now.

He shook his head, a warning to remain silent, and it seemed she understood for she strode back to Mrs Hampton's side as if she hadn't seen him at all. An unwanted trickle of admiration for her quiet calm warmed his veins.

He dragged his gaze back to the man in the bed. It was time to be done with this farce. Bane forced himself not to square his shoulders or take a deep breath. He was no boy worried about his acceptance. He belonged here and he cared not a whit if they thought otherwise. He signalled Ranger to lie down, yet still he hesitated to take the first step.

The earl again looked over into the shadows on the far side of the bed. 'You said he would come,' he quavered.

A man trotted up to the bed. Tight lips. Eyes that darted hither and yon, never resting long enough to be read, bald pate shining. 'He is expected, my lord. I sent word as you ordered.' A dry, officious voice. A clerk of some sort. Solicitor, Bane decided.

'The storm must have delayed him.' The solicitor rubbed his palms together with a papery sound. 'Perhaps tomorrow.'

'Tomorrow will be too late.'

A flash of lightning punctuated his words, the room once more a colourless tableau of frozen players.

Bane stepped into the lamplight in that moment. His shadow loomed black over the bed and up the wall behind the dying man like some portent of evil. 'I am here.'

The old man's gasp was eminently satisfying. No doubt he had carried the hope his elder grandson would miraculously die at the eleventh hour.

Thunder rolled beyond the window, drowning out the old man's muttered words.

Bane's lip curled. It no longer mattered what the old man said. Beresford Abbey was a few short breaths from being passed on to a man who likely had not a drop of Beresford blood.

Oh, the old man had tried to make the best of an heir he despised once he'd discovered Bane had survived to stake his claim. He'd tried to force the twelve-year-old Bane into the appropriate mould. The right sort of school, the right education. As much as his mother's family would permit. And Bane had used what he needed to take back what was rightfully his. His mother had fled the Abbey because she feared for Bane's life. She had lost her own, trying to keep him safe. The powerlessness he'd felt that day still haunted him. He'd fought. How he'd fought. And those men, they had laughed at him. Mocked him. After that day he had sworn he would never let anyone make him feel weak and helpless again. He never had. And never by the man lying in the bed.

He'd used the best of both his worlds. The strength of the coalminers he'd worked alongside in summer holidays and the power of the nobility given by the title he would inherit. He'd taken control of his life.

No one would ever manipulate him again. Not his mother's brother, or the earl.

Bane glanced over at the watchers. If one of them, just one of these relatives, had taken pity on his mother, offered her their support, he might have been able to find a little mercy in his heart. But they hadn't. He bared his teeth in a smile that would do Ranger proud.

The old earl looked him over, his red-rimmed, faded blue eyes watery, his face a picture of scorn. 'So, the scavengers are circling.'

'You sent for me, Grandfather,' he said his tone mocking.

The earl's gaze lingered on Bane's face and he shook his head. 'A curse on your mother for sending my son to an early grave.'

Bitterness roiled in his gut at the vilification. A drunken lord driving his carriage off the road was hardly his mother's fault. His chest tightened until his lungs were starved. Not that he was surprised by the accusation, just by his own visceral reaction, when there was nothing this decayed piece of flesh could do to her any more. 'But for you, my mother would be alive today.'

Most helpful customer reviews

3 of 4 people found the following review helpful.
Rather insipid (possible spoilers)
By Melissa G
As a long time Regency Romance fan (although this is more gothic than Regency in tone) I love a brooding nobleman however I HATE a stupid heroine. She does all the stupid things she shouldn't do (who wanders down a dark tunnel in a mine shaft or runs away in a snow storm?). In addition, she thinks the Earl is trying to kill her but is overcome by passion anyway? How is that romantic? I finished the book and gave it two stars because the writing is okay. The character development was worthy of one star. I am annoyed I paid money for this crap based on the previous reviews of four and five stars.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Bad Techniques Abounds
By Tracy Dunn
A lot of crucial details are left out and it hurt the integrity of the book. To begin, our Hero, Bane Beresford, is called the bastard earl by the grandfather, on his deathbed. There is no mention of marriage between Bane's parents. If there was not a legitimate marriage, he can in no way inherit an earldom. If his mother is the daughter of the grandfather, he can't inherit from her, so I don't understand why he was an earl. If the mother cheated on the father during their marriage, then yes, he may not be a biological child, but he is still considered a legitimate offspring and therefore, no bastard. You see how needlessly unclear this plot line is? At the end we're told that Bane's mother was beaten to death by footpads. Such senseless violence in Wales is troublesome and unbelievable. Perhaps his mother was murdered intentionally? Did the grandfather hire the footpads to kill the woman? Trying to figure these types of puzzles took me out of Bane and Mary's love story.

Another thing is the changing points of view. Until the last 2 chapters or so, the story is told through our heroine, Mary Wilding's, point of view, but bad characterization marks the chaotic thoughts of this supposedly intelligent, organized, practical woman. She's given a glimmer of ambiguous information and leaps (apparently to the correct conclusion) that her lifelong friend has betrayed her and stolen monies from her.

She's given up by her father (a vicar) upon the death of her mother and reared at a school, at the earl's expense. Why the vicar gave her up, I don't know. Why the earl paid for those expenses, I don't know since he doesn't appear to be charitable. How the vicar and the old earl knew each other, I don't know, either.

Bane kisses Mary, she goes up in flames like the dry spinster she is and even though she believes (for good reason) that he wants her dead, she's fine with going all the way with him. Weird.

The last few chapters are told from Bane's point of view and very ineffectively. Other than they liked kissing one another, I wasn't sure what the attraction was between them. You'd think the inability to trust and respect him would douse the flame of physical attraction, but no. As for Bane, I never understood why he was attracted to Mary, either. There has to be more than enjoyable kissing to build a marriage upon and Ms. Lethbridge didn't provide me with that.

There were too many technical details that kept this from being an enjoyable read. Besides the POV shift, Ms. Lethbridge tends to write incomplete sentences, which caused me to back up and re-read the passage to decipher the meaning of those phrases. Again, took me out of the story. I wish more focus had been placed on the admirable qualities of H/h that each appreciated within the other and the whole question of Bane's legitimacy had been scuttled.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
one sided story telling
By Kindle Customer
The story is told from the heroine's viewpoint. She's a no nonsense teacher who is smart, brave and likeable. The one sided viewpoint is a problem since the hero is a bully and might be trying to kill her. Despite this, the heroine is seduced and agrees to enter a loveless marriage with a potential murderer. It isn't until the end that the reader glimpses some of the hero's personality.

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