A Woman Entangled

A Woman Entangled

by Cecilia Grant

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A Woman Entangled by Cecilia Grant

NAMED ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR BY RT BOOK REVIEWS • An ambitious beauty seeking a spot among the elite is thwarted by a most disruptive gentleman in Cecilia Grant’s witty, elegant, and exquisitely sensual novel.
Kate Westbrook has dreams far bigger than romance. Love won’t get her into London’s most consequential parties, nor prevent her sisters from being snubbed and looked down upon—all because their besotted father unadvisedly married an actress. But a noble husband for Kate would deliver a future most suited to the granddaughter of an earl. Armed with ingenuity, breathtaking beauty, and the help of an idle aunt with connections, Kate is poised to make her dreams come true. Unfortunately, a familiar face—albeit a maddeningly handsome one—appears bent on upsetting her scheme.
Implored by Kate’s worried father to fend off the rogues eager to exploit his daughter’s charms, Nick Blackshear has set aside the torch he’s carried for Kate in order to do right by his friend. Anyway, she made quite clear that his feelings were not returned—though policing her won’t abate Nick’s desire. Reckless passion leads to love’s awakening, but time is running out. Kate must see for herself that the charms of high society are nothing compared to the infinite sweet pleasures demanded by the heart.

Praise for A Woman Entangled
“In the third of her Blackshear family series, Grant tackles class distinction and complex family dynamics in a wonderful sensual romance and witty tale in the style of Jane Austen . . . Grant skillfully takes a shallow, immature heroine and develops her into a likable, admirable grown woman. Grant is a smart, innovative, clever writer.”RT Book Reviews
“Wielding a deliciously sharp wit that even Jane Austen would envy, Grant delivers yet another cleverly conceived and deftly choreographed Regency historical that is both lushly sensual and thoroughly romantic. Readers who have yet to discover Grant’s impeccably written romances are in for a rare treat.”Booklist (starred review)
“An emotionally rich, sensually lush romance.”Kirkus Reviews
“Cecilia Grant is swiftly becoming one of my favorite historical romance authors, with her complex characters and thoughtful explorations of how their historical period shapes them. If you love multifaceted stories, definitely give her work a try!”—Heroes and Heartbreakers
“The writing and characterization is every bit as good as I’ve come to expect, and Ms. Grant’s economic, restrained style works beautifully to allow the depth of emotion that bubbles under the surface throughout the story to speak for itself. There is no verbiage for the sake of it; this author pays her readers the huge compliment of trusting us with her material and letting us work things out for ourselves.”—All About Romance

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780345532565
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Publication date: 06/25/2013
Pages: 336
Sales rank: 356,017
Product dimensions: 4.42(w) x 6.74(h) x 0.90(d)

About the Author

Cecilia Grant is the author of the historical romance novels A Lady Awakened and A Gentleman Undone.

Susan Ericksen is a three-time Audie Award-winning narrator who has recorded over 500 books. The winner of multiple awards, including twenty-plus AudioFile Earphones Awards for both fiction and nonfiction, Susan is a classically trained actress who excels at multiple narrative styles and accents.

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

London, February 1817

Discomfiture, for all that it felt like a constant companion, never failed to find new and inventive guises in which to appear.

“I’d like to take out A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, the first volume.” Her sister’s voice soared into every corner of the lending library, all but rattling the bay window in whose alcove Kate had taken refuge. “I’m engaged at present in a work of my own that will build on Miss Wollstonecraft’s foundation. Where she restricted herself to theory, however, and broad societal prescription, I address myself directly to the individual woman of today, arming her with practical methods by which she may begin even now to assert her rights.”

She wouldn’t speak of bodily emancipation in such a setting, would she? Kate held her breath. Surely even Viola had better sense than to—

“In particular I introduce the idea that women will never achieve true emancipation until we have absolute governance of our own persons, within marriage as well as without.”

A stout young man, sitting at the long table nearest Kate’s alcove, looked up sharply from his book. An elderly woman seated on the opposite side of the room did the same. So, no doubt, did every peacefully read­- ing patron in this establishment. Vi’s was a voice that commanded attention, all crisp consonants and breath support, exactly the voice you’d expect from the granddaughter of an earl.

Or the daughter of an actress.

The young man’s table was scattered with volumes, all perused and discarded by patrons who hadn’t bothered to return them to the desk. Kate swiped one up and bent her head over a random page, to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes. To Elizabeth it appeared that had her family made an agreement to expose themselves as much as they could during the evening, it would have been impossible for them to play their parts with more spirit or finer success . . .

Pride and Prejudice. That single line was enough to set Kate’s bones vibrating like a struck tuning fork. Surely it had been written for her, this tale of a young woman struggling under the incessant mortifications thrust upon her by a family that did not know the meaning of discretion.

She turned a page. No more sound from the library’s other end; the clerk must have gone to fetch the requested volume, and to escape any more discussion of practical methods for asserting a woman’s rights. In the book, meanwhile, the party at Netherfield dragged dismally on, plaguing Elizabeth with the disagreeable attentions of Mr. Collins and the cold silence of the Bingley sisters and Mr. Darcy.

Of course Mr. Darcy had already begun to take note of Elizabeth’s fine eyes by this point in the story, and Mr. Bingley was so smitten with Jane that he never noticed half the graceless things the Bennet family did. Could there really be such men in the world? And if so, where did they reside?

“There you are.” Viola stood at the other side of the book-scattered table, Vindication volume in hand, peering at her through those plain glass spectacles she always insisted on wearing in public. “Are you ready to go?”

The stout man glanced up again, no doubt recognizing Vi’s voice. He sent a quick look from one lady to the other, piecing together their relation.

And then he saw Kate, properly. Though he’d been sitting no great distance away, a mere half turn of his head necessary to bring her into view, his eyes apparently had not landed on her until now.

A dozen or more variations she’d seen of this response, on too many occasions to count. Some men managed it without looking witless. Most, unfortunately, did not.

The man’s features stalled, then veered away from the jolly smirk they’d been forming in favor of a glazed-eyed reverence. He blushed, and bowed his head once more over his book.

Not terribly useful, the admiration of such a man. Still, it gave a girl hope. If she could one day drive a marquess, for example, into a like slack-jawed stupor—and why should she not? Title notwithstanding, a marquess was a man with the same susceptibilities as any other—then she might make something of the triumph.

“Novels and more novels.” Her sister, indifferent to such small drama, had begun turning over the discarded volumes on the table. “I suppose nobody wants to read what might actually improve his mind.” The man abruptly closed his book—doubtless a novel—and shoved it away as though he’d only just noticed its offending presence in his hands. His gaze averted, his cheeks pink as fresh-butchered pork, he pushed to his feet and fled to some other sector of the room.

“Yes, I’m ready.” Kate’s own voice had all the patrician clarity of Viola’s, though she aimed it for shorter distances and always took care to stir in a bit of sugar. “Help me gather up these books. They oughtn’t to be left lying about.”

How long could a marquess, once stunned, be counted on to remain in that state? Could he procure a special license and marry her that same day, before his first rabid infatuation receded to the point where he might think of meeting her family? Or maybe she’d do better to get him out of London altogether, that he might not encounter any friends who would feel it their duty to knock him back to his senses. She’d have to count on sustaining his state of stupefaction, in that case, for the length of the journey from Mayfair to Gretna Green.

Difficult and unlikely. But not impossible, necessarily; at least not for her. Stupefaction was her stock-in-trade, and she would not stoop to the tedious false modesty of pretending not to know it.

The library clerk, when she stopped at his desk, accepted her armload of stray books with an effusion of gratitude such as no plain-faced lady would ever have received for the same task, and fetched her the other two volumes of Pride and Prejudice. She signed her name, paid her pennies, and emerged with her sister into the chill February afternoon.

“You’ve read that already” was Viola’s pronouncement on ascertaining what book she held.

“Indeed I have. But you own that volume of the Vindication of Women, and every other volume, too. Surely you’re the last person who ought to be questioning someone else’s borrowing habits.”

“A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, it’s called. The meaning is entirely different. And my purpose wasn’t to borrow a book, but to begin making myself known.” She drummed her gloved fingers on the volume’s binding, a rhythmic accompaniment to the ring of their heels on the pavement. “The more library clerks and book­sellers I make aware of my project, the more likely it is that they’ll mention me in discussions with one another—perhaps even in discussions with publishers. In fact, I think it very likely that publishers spend time in just such establishments. One day I may well be overheard, and approached by some enterprising man who sees that the time is ripe for a book like mine.”

Oh, she’d be approached, certainly enough. Behind those false spectacles and taut-pinned hair and the sensible Quakerish garments she favored, Vi had her share of the Westbrook beauty. One day some man would see past her brusque manners to notice the fact, and if he was enterprising, it would surely occur to him to feign an interest in her book, perhaps even to present himself in the guise of a publisher.

That was why Kate could not allow her to undertake these errands alone. For a young lady of intellect, Viola was shockingly ignorant in some matters.

“I wonder, though, if a more gradual kind of persuasion might be to your benefit.” At the corner she turned east, steering her sister along. “If perhaps you concentrated your efforts at first on pleasantries—on asking the clerk to recommend an interesting book, for example, or even speaking on commonplace topics such as the weather or an amusing print you recently saw—then by the time you introduced the subject of your own book, you might have a reservoir of goodwill already in place. Even a clerk who doesn’t necessarily subscribe to your book’s ideas might be disposed to advance your cause with his publisher friends, simply as a favor to a charming customer.”

“But I don’t want to be a charming customer.” Viola’s voice sank into the low passionate chords of the instrument with which she shared a name. “I want to be taken seriously. I want to know my book is appreciated on its own merits—not because the reader finds me sufficiently charming. I’m sure Thomas Paine never concerned himself with whether or not he was charming.” The word apparently furnished endless fuel for disgust. She jabbed at Pride and Prejudice. “Your Mr. Darcy isn’t the least bit charming, and yet everyone tiptoes about him in awe.”

It’s different for women. She needn’t say it aloud. Vi knew well enough.

Kate shifted the volumes to the crook of her other arm, and fished in her reticule for a penny as they approached the street crossing. She wasn’t without sympathy for her sister. The constraints of a lady’s life could be exceedingly trying. Demoralizing, if one allowed them to be.

The trick was not to allow them to be.

“Lord help us all if you mean to pattern yourself after Thomas Paine. Perhaps he wouldn’t have got into such trouble if he’d spent a little effort on charm.” She paid the crossing sweep, a ragged dark boy, with the penny and her sweetest smile. “And Mr. Darcy had ten thousand a year and a grand house to his name. Much will be forgiven in the manners of such a man.” She caught up her skirts and stepped into the street, sister alongside.

“What of his Elizabeth, then?” The unavoidable legacy of a barrister father: progeny always on the lookout for an argument. “She never takes pains to charm anyone, least of all Mr. Darcy, and yet— Where are we going?” She halted, abrupt as a fickle cart horse. “We ought to have turned north by now.”

“The girls won’t be through with lessons for nearly an hour.” Kate took her sister’s elbow to usher her the rest of the way across. “That gives us time to go by way of Berkeley Square.”

“Berkeley Square?” The way Vi pronounced it, you’d think she was naming the alley where the meanest residents of St. Giles went to empty their chamber pots.

“Berkeley Square, indeed. I have a letter for Lady Harringdon.” Might as well serve up the objectionable news all at once, rather than by spoonfuls.

“On what possible subject can you be writing to that . . . woman?” She knew how to pack inordinate amounts of meaning into a pause, Viola did, this time suggesting she’d groped for a word suited to Lady Harringdon’s perfidy and found none strong enough.

“She’s just married off the last of her daughters this week. I’m offering my congratulations, as civil people do on such occasions to their kin.”

“Kin, do you call her?”

Yes, she’d known that word wouldn’t pass without remark. “She’s married to our father’s elder brother. That makes her our aunt.”

“Well, somebody ought to tell that to her. Her and Lord Harringdon and whatever mean-spirited offspring they spawned.” Viola walked faster, swinging Vindication, volume one, in a pendulum motion as though she were winding up to brain one of that family with it. “Good lord, Kate, do you secretly correspond with the dowager Lady Harringdon as well? With all the aunts and uncles who refuse to know us? I would have thought you had more pride than to truckle to such people.”

“I don’t secretly correspond with anyone. I’ve already told you the occasion for this note, and I hardly think a word of congratulations can be construed as truckling.” To keep her voice light and unruffled required a conscious effort, but she had plenty of practice in the art. “Indeed I should think it will provide an instructive example of proper manners to Lady Harringdon, while proving that her own lapses in civility do not guide the behavior of Charles Westbrook’s children. You see, I’m partly motivated by pride after all.”

Partly. But in truth she had grander ambitions than to simply make a show of unbowed civility to her aunt.

They weren’t really so unlike, she and her sister. She, too, intended to be known. One day the door to that glittering world of champagne and consequence—the world that ought to have been her birthright—would crack open just long enough to admit a girl who’d spent every day since the age of thirteen watching for that chance, readying herself to slip through. Even at two and twenty, she hadn’t given up hope. Enough attentions to people like Lady Harringdon, and something must finally happen. Someone must recognize the aristocratic blood that ran through her veins, and the manners and accomplishments worthy of a nobleman’s bride. Then she’d dart through that open door, take her place among her own kind, and single-handedly haul her family back into respectability.

“Do what you must.” Viola’s shoulders flexed, as though the insult of a trip to Berkeley Square had an actual physical weight that wanted preparation to bear. “My pride shall take the form of waiting across the street while you go about your errand. Anyone looking out the window may see that I am not ashamed of our mother.”

That was petty; the argumental equivalent of jabbing her with a sewing pin. And it smarted every bit as much. “Neither am I ashamed of her. Only I’m not willing to dismiss Papa’s family as a lot of villains because they objected to his marrying an actress. No family of good name would desire such a union for one of their sons.”

“ ‘Such a union?’ To a woman of character and intelligence, you mean, daughter of a proud theatrical family, who studied Sophocles and spat on indecent offers from gentleman admirers? Yes, doubtless any reasonable family must abhor that match, and strive instead to get their son shackled to some insipid chit who hasn’t any interests or passions of her own and whose talents extend only to a few polite pluckings on the harp. There is a recipe for conjugal felicity, to be sure.”

Kate made no answer, beyond a small inward sigh. Really, it must be very pleasant to live in Viola’s world, with everything drawn in such broad strokes. People and actions easily classified as righteous or knavish; no margin granted for human fallibility or the claims of society. No energies squandered in pondering extenuating circumstances. No time wasted on doubt.

One of the Pride and Prejudice volumes was pressing a sharp edge into her forearm, so she switched to a one-handed grip, like Viola with her Vindication. Conjugal felicity, indeed. That came in several guises, surely, or at least you might get there by more than one path. If Mr. Darcy, for example, had come to her with that first grudging proposal, openly acknowledging his abhorrence at so lowering himself, she would have swallowed her pride long enough to choke out a yes. Affection and understanding could come afterward—or if they never came at all, she would have a good name and the grounds at Pemberley on which to build all the felicity she required.

As they made their way into the residential streets of Mayfair, she tipped back her head for a view of remote upper windows. Surely somewhere in London was a gentleman who would suit her needs. Surely some aristocrat—some marquess ripe for stupefaction—must appreciate a beautiful bride with such pragmatic expectations of the wedded state. Surely someone, someday, could be brought to lower himself as Mr. Darcy had, and spirit her out of that middling class in which she had never truly belonged.

Surely that man did walk and breathe. The trick was only to find him.


Round the landing, down the stairs, and through the heavy oak front door, Nicholas Blackshear spilled out into the cold sunlight of Brick Court, black robes billowing in his wake. Time and Tide tarry for no Man, warned the inscription on the sundial where he paused to confirm the hour. It told the truth, that inscription, but far from heeding its exhortation to haste, he always seemed to stop here an extra moment, reflecting on the hallowed figures who must have consulted this same timepiece as they’d gone about their business in the Middle Temple.

William Blackstone and Oliver Goldsmith had each surely stood here—he had only to glance up at Number Two Brick Court to see where the jurist and the writer had slept and studied a few generations ago.

But so it was throughout the Inns of Court. Just as he always had to stop at the sundial, so must he quietly marvel, every time he took a meal in the Middle Temple Hall, at the serving table whose wood came from the hull of Sir Francis Drake’s Golden Hind. So must he always attempt, mid-meal, to picture all the details of the evening, some two hundred years ago, when the benchers and students had been privileged to witness the very first performance of Twelfth Night in that same room.

To be a London barrister was to live surrounded by the best of everything England had to offer, all from men who’d charted their own courses to greatness. A fellow might end up anywhere, who began here. If he was literarily inclined, he could look not only to the example of Goldsmith but also to the poet Donne, the satirist Fielding, the playwrights Webster and Congreve—onetime barristers all. If he aspired to etch his name in big bold letters upon the pages of English history, there were Francis Bacon’s footsteps to follow in, or, more recently, William Pitt’s.

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A Woman Entangled 4.4 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 10 reviews.
AnnaNanner More than 1 year ago
3.5 Stars…Exquisite Prose, Appealing Characters, and Humdrum Plot An exquisitely beautiful young woman and unacknowledged granddaughter of an earl – provoked by her family’s poor treatment within noble society – is willing to forsake love to marry an aristocrat. Kate Westbrook sets aside romantic notions for practical purposes. Now, her goal is within sight. Unfortunately, a family friend’s meddling may disrupt her plans. A few years ago, Nick Blackshear lost his head the first time he saw Kate. She bluntly nipped his courtship in the bud. Her conceit reduced his admiration of her; yet, over the years, this multifaceted woman behaved in other compelling ways to prove she is more than a pretty face. No matter. Nick has goals of his own. They may take some time to achieve due to a family scandal. Soon enough, those goals entwine with his friendship with Kate’s father and the ambitious woman herself. A Woman Entangled seems to conclude the Blackshear Family series. The characters were all I had hoped they would be: rounded, compelling, and conflicted. Again, Cecilia Grants’ gorgeous prose absorbed my interest until the lethargic plot had me putting down the book a few times. Ms. Grant has a talent for avoiding overused plot devices. This book continues with this trend, which I appreciate. Regrettably, the romance and family drama seemed inadequate. The straightforward plot needed more momentum, more energy. It’s a guarantee that Nick and Kate would have their happy ending. Their inner conflict - mostly family scandals - was sincere, but not strong enough to grip this reader. A Woman Entangled played out like the gentle music from a finely-tuned cello, but I was not expecting a lullaby. I give Ms. Grant a great big cheer for creating a seemingly shallow heroine. Kate Westbrook was anything but superficial. Kate used the tools available to improve her family’s lot in life for the time period. This book may not have resonated with me like A Gentleman Undone, but other readers may be positively moved by the classically played elegance in her writing. I continue to look forward to Cecilia Grants’ future work. Digital RC compliments of Random House Publishing via Edelweiss in exchange for an honest review.
DComfort More than 1 year ago
ABOUT THE BOOK: An ambitious beauty seeking a spot among the elite is thwarted by a most disruptive gentleman in Cecilia Grant’s witty, elegant, and exquisitely sensual novel. Kate Westbrook has dreams far bigger than romance. Love won’t get her into London’s most consequential parties, nor prevent her sisters from being snubbed and looked down upon—all because their besotted father unadvisedly married an actress. But a noble husband for Kate would deliver a future most suited to the granddaughter of an earl. Armed with ingenuity, breathtaking beauty, and the help of an idle aunt with connections, Kate is poised to make her dreams come true. Unfortunately, a familiar face—albeit a maddeningly handsome one—appears bent on upsetting her scheme. Implored by Kate’s worried father to fend off the rogues eager to exploit his daughter’s charms, Nick Blackshear has set aside the torch he’s carried for Kate in order to do right by his friend. Anyway, she made quite clear that his feelings were not returned—though policing her won’t abate Nick’s desire. Reckless passion leads to love’s awakening, but time is running out. Kate must see for herself that the charms of high society are nothing compared to the infinite sweet pleasures demanded by the heart. REVIEW: Wow! WOW! Ms. Grant doesn’t disappoint! This book was not only a page-turner, one I couldn’t put down, but the writing was as smooth as warm honey. Such a beautifully crafted story, told so well, that you will forget the characters are only fictional. You’ll fall in love with both, as you read their story toward a true quest for love. I loved the angst with this piece and the modern day turn on a historical romance. I think this is a piece that will have readers gripping the book and hopping in their seat. Ms. Grant has the ability to transform her stories into a majestic wonder for readers all over! Five out of five stars for a job well done!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Historical_Romance_Lover More than 1 year ago
This is book 3 in the Blackshear Family series. Kate Westbrook's family has been snubbed by the ton ever since her father's marriage an actress.  Kate feels that if she can just marry the right man, one with lord in front of their name, she will make life easier on her sisters.  Kate finally has the opportunity to find that husband when her friend Nick Blackshear keeps popping up. Kate's father has asked Nick to keep on eye on Kate when she goes out to each evening's entertainment. Nick would do anything for Mr. Westbrook, even watch over the women that scorned him three years ago. Nick acts like his torch for Kate is gone, but spending more time with her just shows him that it isn't. Because of a scandal with Nick's brother, he must marry into a family with no blemishes. Kate want to help her family finally find acceptance.  Can they put aside their wishes to find the desire in both of their hearts? I really enjoyed this story.  Kate and Nick had developed a friendship (other than his initial declaration at the start of it) before trying to make it more.  They had more to build their relationship upon that the normal physical attraction that you find in books.  I don't know if there are going to be more books in the series, but I'd really love to see the story of Louise and Lord Barclay as well as the stories of Kate's sisters.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Bitten-By-Love-Reviews More than 1 year ago
Being a historical romance lover this was a wonderful read. I know personally and I am sure there are plenty of people in the world who have had the battle between what they THINK they want and what thier HEART decides they need. It isn't easy to go through but as the saying goes "always follow your heart" and that is exactly what Kate ends up doing. So if your interested in seeing how a women back in the 18th century tries to help bring back her families good name, and struggles with her thoughts and her emotions then grab this book. You will not regret it.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Ms. Grant continues to amaze me with her beautiful writing, her deeply drawn characters and her humorous, heartfelt stories. I particularly love that, in this third in the series, she relied on her characters, their inner struggles and thoughtful responses to challenges, to carry the story. While I loved the ingenious plots of her two prior books (as well as the characters and writing), I found myself really captured by beautiful way Ms. Grant depicts the very human dilemmas which Kate and Nick face without resorting to excessive drama. Their struggles grow out of the strictures of their society and their solutions grow out of their hearts, as they each come to understand themsrlves and each other more deeply. I look forward to more by this fabulous writer
In_My_Humble_OpinionDA More than 1 year ago
Oh how I wanted to hate Kate.  She has the eye of every man yet refuses to allow them to pay suit as she has her grand plans to repair the family name by marrying a respected member of the Ton.  But every time I was ready to go aha! she would do something incredible sweet.  This is a wonderful tale dealing with the class systems and those of family as well.  Cecilia Grant is a new to me author but I will be checking out her backlist and will look for her future titles as well.  This was a well written story and I am thrilled to have been offered the opportunity by Bantam via NetGalley to read and review in exchange for my honest opinion.  If you enjoy historical romance read this book you won’t be disappointed. 
celticmaggie More than 1 year ago
Cecilia Grant has written a wonderful book. It is a Recency story but set at the end of the Era. The rules and mores of the era are beginning to loosen up. It begins with two families who are estranged from all their relatives. Nick stepped away from his family because his younger brother who came home from the European Campaign fought a duel for for a friend's mistress. He wound up marrying her. Totally unacceptable. Kate was determined to bring her estranged family together so she and her sisters could have a better life of life. She has spent years sending notes to her father's brother's wife. Her father was shunned due to marrying a lady from the theater. Finally she receives an invitation to call on her aunt. They go to balls and routs so she can be accepted as a Ladies Companion. However she still has plans on finding a Lord to marry. She and Nick have been close for three years. It was fun and  sad to see how everyone settles their lives. This had a totally real believable feel. Not everyone was rich . Not everyone married rich. But you still could have a good life. I enjoyed reading this book and laughing and crying with these marvelous characters. This is definitely a reread book. Please add this one to your shelf.