Jane Eyre meets Beauty and the Beast in this Steampunk Proper Romance When Lucy Pickett arrives at Blackwell Manor to tend to her ailing cousin, Kate, she finds more than she bargained for. A restless ghost roams the hallways, shape-shifting creatures have been reported in the area, and vampires lurk across the Scottish border. Lord Miles himself is clearly hiding a secret. He is brash and inhospitable, and does not take kindly to visitors—even one as smart and attractive as Miss Pickett. He is unsettled by the mysterious deaths of his new wife, Clara, and his sister, Marie. Could Miles be to blame for the deaths? Working together, Miles and Lucy attempt to restore peace to Blackwell Manor. But can Lucy solve the mystery of Miles? Can she love the man—beast and all?
About the Author
Nancy Campbell Allen is the author of twelve novels, which span genres from contemporary romantic suspense to historical fiction. She has presented at numerous writing conferences and events. She has a degree in Elementary Education and is the mother of three children.
Read an Excerpt
Blackwell was dressed in black trousers and black riding boots that sported mud spatters. His discarded overcoat was slung over the back of the sofa, his unbuttoned vest was black, as was his cravat, which was undone and hanging loosely about his neck. He’d rolled back the cuffs of his snowy-white shirt, which was the only color contrast on an otherwise intimidating male with black hair and a thick scar that ran the length of his profile on the right side of his face. It extended from his temple, across the cheekbone and down to his jawline just beyond the corner of his mouth. The flickering lamplight showed that it continued under his chin and down across the front of his neck where it eventually disappeared under his shirt.
Lucy frowned and drew her brows together in spite of his uncomfortably close proximity, studying his face.
?“Do you have something you would like to say?” the man murmured, his voice deep, strained.
She opened her mouth and spoke before giving any real thought to her words. “Your scar isn’t nearly as fearsome as others suggest.” Her tone trailed off as she realized the extent of her social gaffe. Not only was she wandering about in the wee hours of the morning in nothing but her night clothing, she had just been blunt and insulting to the lord of the manor and her cousin’s brother-in-law. She was usually much more circumspect. Her only excuse for the lack of polish was the fact that she’d just seen an apparition—of which she’d formerly doubted the existence—and now the ghost’s brother wasn’t proving to be any more pleasant.