A themed tour through Prism Book Tours.
Amid the sumptuous backdrop of the London Season in 1905, headstrong Katherine Sinclair must join the ranks of debutantes vying for suitors. Unfortunately for Katherine, she cannot imagine anything more loathsome – or dangerous. Through her late mother’s enchanted journal, Katherine receives warning to keep hidden her otherworldly ability to perform Arcana, a magic fueled by the power of the sun. The machinations of the fashionably elite are a constant threat, but worse still are those who covet Katherine’s Arcana, seeking the power of her birthright. They could be hiding behind the façade of every suitor, even the darkly handsome Earl of Thornewood. With so much danger and suspicion, can she give her heart to the one who captivates her, or is he just another after her power?
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Book Excerpt
Mama, lend me your grace, I think like a prayer. I close my eyes for a moment, and I can almost hear her voice, telling me, as she always did, that there was always strength within me if I would but reach for it.
The queue of debutantes moves forward until I stand at the threshold of the Throne Room. Royal guards in scarlet line one side of the room, prominent members of the Court on the other. At the end of the long room are the king and queen, seated upon their thrones, but I try not to focus on anything but the veil of the girl in front of me.
I take my first step into the room, my shoe bright white against the red of the carpet. The gold-leafed ceiling soars above me, brightly lit by seven enormous chandeliers. The room is designed to be awe-inspiring in majestic colors of gold and red, but I am too busy praying that I will remember the choreography of all I must do once I reach the throne.
A court attendant moves forward and indicates for me to drop my train. Shakily, I do so. With a golden wand, he spreads the heavy satin behind me until I can feel the weight of it pulling at my back.
Careful not to step on the train of the girl before me, I process forward. The name of the first debutante is announced, and after only a few moments, the next two names are called, until I stand alone before the king and queen.
“The Honorable Katherine Sinclair, daughter of Lord Edward Sinclair, Viscount of Bransfield,” one of the court officials announces.
For one horrible moment, I freeze. Do I kneel or curtsy? Do I kiss the queen’s hand, or do I only bow my head?
Mama, lend me your grace, I think like a prayer. I close my eyes for a moment, and I can almost hear her voice, telling me, as she always did, that there was always strength within me if I would but reach for it.
The queue of debutantes moves forward until I stand at the threshold of the Throne Room. Royal guards in scarlet line one side of the room, prominent members of the Court on the other. At the end of the long room are the king and queen, seated upon their thrones, but I try not to focus on anything but the veil of the girl in front of me.
I take my first step into the room, my shoe bright white against the red of the carpet. The gold-leafed ceiling soars above me, brightly lit by seven enormous chandeliers. The room is designed to be awe-inspiring in majestic colors of gold and red, but I am too busy praying that I will remember the choreography of all I must do once I reach the throne.
A court attendant moves forward and indicates for me to drop my train. Shakily, I do so. With a golden wand, he spreads the heavy satin behind me until I can feel the weight of it pulling at my back.
Careful not to step on the train of the girl before me, I process forward. The name of the first debutante is announced, and after only a few moments, the next two names are called, until I stand alone before the king and queen.
“The Honorable Katherine Sinclair, daughter of Lord Edward Sinclair, Viscount of Bransfield,” one of the court officials announces.
For one horrible moment, I freeze. Do I kneel or curtsy? Do I kiss the queen’s hand, or do I only bow my head?
Something draws my gaze to the right of the king, and I lock eyes with the Earl of Thornewood. Gone is the characteristic look of arrogance. In its place is a warm smile. “Curtsy,” he mouths to me with a nod.
I sink into a curtsy so low I’m almost kneeling before Queen Alexandra. She extends her hand to me, and I take it and kiss the back of it. Taking care not to step on my train, I move back toward the Throne Room entrance, curtsying to King Edward and again to each of his daughters in attendance, Princess Louise and Princess Victoria.
The court official with the wand replaces my train over my left arm, and with great relief, I am free to leave the Throne Room.
So much angst for so short an event. In the antechamber beyond the Throne Room, I duck into a dim hallway and lean against the wall, my ribs straining against my corset. An official will undoubtedly seek me out, but for now, I enjoy my brief respite.
“I am surprised, Miss Sinclair,” Lord Thornewood says, appearing in the doorway like a specter. “I did not expect to find a newly presented debutante hiding in a darkened corridor like a wanton woman.” I take a steadying breath. I cannot keep my hand from nervously smoothing my skirt, especially when his eyes trail over my dress.
To my chagrin, heat flushes across my cheeks. My eyes flick over his inky black velvet jacket and trousers. His ivory shirt and cravat are the only bright things on his body. I try to ignore how darkly handsome he is, how even the curve of his lips has my pulse jumping to life. “Is it a crime now to seek out a moment of peace?” I snap.
His grin only grows wider. “Such a tone I am greeted with, though I did my best to see you through your debut.”
The warm smile he bestowed upon me in the Throne Room flashes through my mind and chips away at my defenses. “The awful truth is you’re right. You did help me, and I am grateful.”
He steps forward, so close if I but leaned toward him our lips would touch. “How grateful, Miss Sinclair?” I hold my breath as he reaches out and trails his fingers down the edge of my jaw. “Ah, but I shouldn’t tease you. Tempting as you are, with your flushed cheeks, I am a man of honor . . .” A self-deprecating smile touches his lips. “Though the gossips may say otherwise.”
Just as I am sure I will give in to my base desires and kiss the teasing grin from his face, a voice calls out from the room beyond, “Miss Sinclair?”
About Jessica Leake
I’m a stay-at-home mom of three beautiful children (two toddlers and a newborn, in fact, so I think you can begin to see why my blog may be a bit neglected) and author of Arcana: A Novel (Skyhorse/Talos, November 4, 2014), my debut historical fantasy with a heavy dose of romance. I have a particular obsession with blending different genres, but almost everything I write has an element of fantasy and romance. I’ve been in love with historical England ever since my first literary crush: Mr. Darcy (I can’t even count the number of times I watched Pride & Prejudice–the A&E version, of course!!) I’m represented by the fabulous Brianne Johnson of Writers House, and I live in Greenville, SC.
Before I was a writer, I worked as a psychotherapist. I spent several years working at a psychiatric hospital in Birmingham, AL, but after my husband graduated as a pharmacist, we moved back to Greenville. I claim Greenville as my hometown now since I spent most of my childhood here, and I’m a proud alumna of St. Joseph’s Catholic School and Winthrop University.
Before I was a writer, I worked as a psychotherapist. I spent several years working at a psychiatric hospital in Birmingham, AL, but after my husband graduated as a pharmacist, we moved back to Greenville. I claim Greenville as my hometown now since I spent most of my childhood here, and I’m a proud alumna of St. Joseph’s Catholic School and Winthrop University.
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id rather meet my future love
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