Perfectly Proper - eBook

Perfectly Proper - eBook
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Author Bailey Griffin introduced readers to romance and intrigue in Regency England, with her breakout story: Simply Suitable. The danger and romance continue unabated in her newest release, Perfectly Proper. High-spirited Morgan Westfall leaves the family estate to search for her brother, Jack, Earl of Rathbourne and agent for the Crown. She is accompanied by rugged Highlander rogue Tristan McTavish. Danger dogs their trail, as well as the smoldering sexual tension between them. Adventure, romance, plots against the Crown and treachery lead beautiful Morgan Westfall on a journey that may not be…Perfectly Proper.


The distinct cadence of swordplay reverberated sharply through the room. Sunlight edged through the windows, slowly dispelling the last of the night shadows still clinging to the floor. In the growing light, one could discern an elegantly appointed ballroom. Muted colors of sage, white, and cream enhanced the elaborate molding and paneled walls. Crystal chandeliers hung over a gleaming parquet floor, ever ready for the next event.   

Two figures circled each other in silence, gauging for any signs of weakness to exploit. One, tall with a more slender build, moved with fluid precision. The other, with a somewhat heavier build, executed moves with a solid confidence. All in all, they were evenly matched, and only a mistake would provide the opportunity for one to triumph over the other.   

Double-doors at the far end of the room swung open, shifting shadows in the growing sunlight. No noise was made, but the movement was enough to momentarily distract one of the swordsmen. With a deft flick of the wrist from his opponent, he was disarmed. A decidedly feminine shout of triumph echoed through the room as the loser’s weapon clattered to the floor. 

With a laugh and a shake of her head, Morgan Renee Westfall removed her fencing mask sending her long, chestnut hair cascading down her back. Blue eyes sparkling with mischief, she lightly kissed her now-scowling fencing partner on the cheek. 

“Am I getting better or are you just letting me win? That’s the second time this week. You know I don’t want to be coddled.” Morgan quirked an eyebrow as she waited for a response.  

Derek Logan, Morgan’s second cousin, glared at the butler who had opened the doors before responding to her with a forced smile. “You must be practicing more my dear. You know I don’t like to lose.”  

Still smiling, Morgan turned to see why Paul, the household’s butler, interrupted her morning exercise. Her smile grew even wider as she saw the letter on the silver salver.    

“Is that from Jack?” All thoughts of exercise vanished as Morgan quickly crossed the room.      

Morgan’s older brother was out of town and she was expecting a letter from him. But the Earl of Rathbourne, or Westfall as he was more familiarly called, was not known for his consistent correspondence. As she reached for the letter, Derek interrupted her thoughts. 

“I’m sure your brother will write when he has time, Morgan. There is nothing here that can’t be handled.” 

She bristled at Derek’s proprietary tone, but composed herself before replying as it was something of a sore subject with Derek. “I realize you are quite capable managing things. But it is unusual for him to not respond to my letters, especially with the problems that have been occurring.”

“Morgan, I don’t know why you persist in making something out of nothing. Things happen. These are normal occurrences on estates all over England. The incidents are not anything I can’t, and haven’t already addressed. Your brother also has more important things to attend than responding to every imagined crisis. You obviously have too much time on your hands if you have convinced yourself things are that dire.”

This was not the first time Derek minimized her opinions, especially when dealing with estate matters. Morgan took a deep breath and tried for an even tone. “Yes, you have addressed them, and I know it is not unusual for him to be out of contact for a time, but I would feel better knowing Jack was at least aware of what’s been happening.” Morgan did not further contradict Derek by giving voice to the uneasy feeling that things had been anything but ‘normal’ since Jack departed.

The butler waited until the exchange ended. Clearing his throat, he extended the tray with the missive, “My lady.”

Even before she saw the handwriting was not Jack’s, her excitement waned. She grew up with the household staff, knew them, and could tell the butler plainly did not have good news.  

“There has been another incident, and this was left behind.” Paul was the epitome of a proper butler. But at this moment, his usually inscrutable expression was troubled.

Morgan quickly scanned the note.  Written in an almost illegible scrawl were the words The time draws near. There was no signature, and no other distinguishing marks on the paper. She huffed a breath of frustration. “Who brought this? Did anything else happen?” 


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