The Butterfly Bride

The Butterfly Bride

by Vanessa Riley

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Frederica Burghley wants to be married by Yuletide. Or else her father will set her up with one of his friends. The bonbon-loving illegitimate daughter of the duke wants to choose her own husband. Advertising in the newspaper seems like the way to go. But a sinister response, with threats against her life, leads her to enlist the help of her very handsome, dear friend Jasper Fitzwilliam, Lord Hartwell.

A father and widower, Jasper is not only tasked with keeping Frederica safe but also with helping his vibrant friend choose a suitable husband. The more he tries to keep the ever-surprising woman alive and find her a good match, the more Jasper realizes he cares for her. The two friends risk their lives for each other, so they should be able to risk their feelings for a chance at a deep and true love together. But he's not looking for marriage and she's not looking for convenience.

Each book in the Advertisements for Love series is STANDALONE:
* The Bittersweet Bride
* The Bashful Bride
* The Butterfly Bride
* The Bewildered Bride

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781640636385
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC
Publication date: 10/22/2018
Series: Advertisements for Love , #3
Sold by: Macmillan
Format: NOOK Book
Pages: 401
Sales rank: 7,889
File size: 2 MB

About the Author

Award winning, Amazon Bestselling author, Vanessa Riley, worked as an engineer before allowing her passion for historical romance to shine. A Regency era (early 1800s) and Jane Austen enthusiast, she brings the flavor of diverse, eclectic peoples to her stories. The author of Madeline's Protector, Swept Away, Unmasked Heart, The Bargain, and Unveiling Love, she has won the Beacon Award, the Colorado Award of Excellence, and placed in the International Digital Awards for her Regency romances.

Read an Excerpt


November 6, 1820, London, England

Ting, ting, plunk — the noise of shattering glass forced Frederica Burghley to peek through her heavy lids. She saw nothing but her darkened bedchamber. The moon danced on her blurry wall tapestry, as it had when she went to bed.

She closed her eyes and let the comfort of her wool blankets soothe her nerves.

More breaking glass.

"Who's there?" Her voice sounded funny. She felt funny. Why?

Was it barking? The duke's bloodhounds, Romulus and Remus? No. They'd keep making noise until she or the duke quieted them. No, that wasn't it.

"I asked, who's there?" Her voice. Such a hoarse whisper.

Nothing answered her question. Nothing. No yelping. No dogs.

Her eyelids drooped.

But the quiet eroded again with more chipping noises.

Then a screech, like nails on a schoolroom chalkboard, sent tremors down her spine.

Her mouth went dry.

Even if she could talk louder, she doubted any of Papa's party guests downstairs would pay attention. The refreshments and violin music were too plentiful. Even Lord Hartwell, the frustrating viscount, wouldn't help. The man had sent her to bed like she was one of his mischievous daughters.


Then a boom.

Then something that sounded like a curse.

She squinted in the direction of the noise. The moonlight highlighted the posts of her bed and a hole in her windowpane.

That was wrong.

All Papa's windows should be perfect. But this one wasn't. Who dared to break a window belonging to the Duke of Simone?

Frederica tried to sit up but moving a few inches made the world spin hard and heavy. Her dinner and every dessert she'd ever eaten threatened to return and make a grand entrance.

Something was wrong. She felt wrong. Very wrong. So much for being good and retiring early. Ha-ha-Lord Hartwell, Lord Hartsmell.

More shards fell.

She heard the glass breaking more clearly. Her heart thumped fast, faster than the pianoforte played at Papa's wedding today, faster than the claps he'd received for his young bride. A bride one third his age — one closer to Frederica's twenty-two years.

Her gaze locked on fingers stretching through the fist-sized hole in the window. Fingers in a black leather glove, a man's glove.

Her skin pimpled with a chill her blanket couldn't warm.

Frederica needed to do something. But what?

Ohhhh. Why is it so hard to think?

And why is my arm numb and tingly?

And my legs ... Why don't my legs shift or lift like they should?

"Coming for you." The voice was low, deep, rude.

No one should come for Frederica Burghley, not without an invitation. It was not to be done, not to the daughter of a duke.

Now an arm stretched inside. Panic, perspiration, and rapid blinks seemed to get her eyes working. She focused on the waggling, maybe- hunting-for-the-lock-hand. Dark coat.

She tried again to sit, to stand, to not lose hope. Maybe she could roll? Roll out of the bedsheets, to the hall — any place safer.

One. She rocked her body toward the edge of the bed.

Two. She rolled back.

Two and a half. She thrust again, harder, really hard. She'd made it.

Four. She held her breath, then tipped over, flopping to the floor. Air pushed from her stomach, up her throat, and out lips that barely worked.

Her face landed on the frilly slipper she'd worn that day to the wedding. Getting caught with some man on the duke's day, no matter how she hated her father being married, wasn't to be done.

"I hear you. I'm coming for you, my sweetest. Just need the latch to obey."

Her heart slammed into her chest. Her palms turned clammy, dead cold.

Sweetest? Wasn't that the same word the man who had responded to her advertisement had used?

The man who wanted to marry her? The man who'd sent threatening notes? The man who had promised her death?

This wasn't a foolhardy compromise or thief — it was a killer.

She started to crawl or shuffle, but her knees kept tangling in her long nightgown. Slipping, scooting, wanting to run to the door, she tumbled and looked back. The curtains rustled and revealed a man's leg. Ohhhhh, no no no no.

Hiking her nightgown, balling up the ruffles to free her knees, she pushed into the hall.

The noise of the remaining wedding guests — the sweet violins, an amateur's off-key pianoforte reached her ear.

She needed to get their attention. She opened her mouth but couldn't manage a scream above a sigh.

No one would hear her.

No one was coming to save her.

No. That wouldn't be her story. Nearing a half-open threshold, she pushed and flopped inside. Kicking at the door, she closed it. Her eyes adjusted to the pitch-black bedchamber but her pulse still raced. She was a doorknob's twist away from a killer.

Knees stinging, one rubbed raw from the stiff nape of the duke's Indian silk rugs, she crawled deeper into the room.

She hit something. Her forehead stung. She traced the fretwork and knurling of a bedpost. Pulling up on it until she half-stood, wobbling like a drunk she'd once seen beating on her mother's door when they'd lived at a brothel.

Frederica swayed but gripped the bedpost tighter. She hadn't had too much drink. She didn't drink anything but weak raffia or tea.

If someone brought her the wrong glass, the well-meaning Lord Hartwell, the one who thought-he-knew-everything had finished it.

Then he'd sent her to retire. Hmmm.

Going to bed early but chased by a killer — did that mean she would win the argument with the viscount? She'd collect a sweet Gunter's ice from Hartwell if she lived. In her heart, she'd give up a month of bonbons for one of his lectures right now.

Then she wouldn't be alone or scared.

Loud voices sounded in the hall outside the door.

Men's voices.

Angry voices.


She dove headlong into the bed, sinking into the mattress. The down stuffing cradled her as she burrowed into bedclothes — a soft blanket, smooth, crisp sheets.

The door creaked open.

She gripped the wool over her head, closed her eyes, prayed for salvation, then played dead.

Footsteps came near. Her heart thundered.

Feigning death wouldn't be an option. The man would kill her like the last note had said.

The bed swayed.

She tensed her stomach awaiting the jab of a knife — a gutting, that's how he'd put it.

The bed swayed again.

Then nothing, blessed, quiet, nothing.

A scent. It smelled familiar and luscious like licorice, but not. Maybe sweet-and-sour barberry ice. Maybe a rich brandy sauce.

Her chest loosened. Sleepiness took hold. Her fingers relaxed, and she eased her death grip on the blanket.

If dying smelled like dessert, maybe it shouldn't be feared.

* * *

For Jasper Fitzwilliam, the Viscount Hartwell, holding his late wife was never a problem. He simply closed his eyes and dreamed of her. Sleep returned his wife to when she knew no sickness and was not ravaged by the stomach cancer which had taken her. Maria was whole.

He reached for his dream love and snuggled her close. His pulse raced. His ears filled with the thud of her drumming heartbeat, then he felt her hot breath along his throat.

Maria's arms had no bloodletting scars. They were smooth again, so soft to his touch, so warm, not freezing cold. He put his nose to her neck and let her perfume, her wonderful rosewater scent, have its way with him. It seduced him to a time when she was his and their love was strong, stronger than anything — stronger than four dangerous childbirths, stronger than his father's endless vendettas, and almost strong enough to keep fighting her illness after a two-year decline.

That time seemed so long ago. His memories hadn't faded, nor this feeling of being loved.

On a deeper inhale he turned her to him and offered a kiss. Nose aside nose. Lips against lips.

That perfume. Didn't Maria like lilacs, not roses?

It didn't matter, because tonight, she kissed him back. Oh, each kiss tasted of peppermint and chocolate and bitters.

Then Maria screamed.

She beat upon his chest and kept on screaming.

Jasper opened his eyes and tugged his dream woman, the one still punching him in the chest upright. The minx Miss Burghley was in his bed, in his arms.

His heart stopped, then beat like crazy. Then he remembered kissing her. His thirty-three-year-old heart might well explode.

"Let me go. Please don't kill me."

"Kill you?" He ran a hand through his hair, massaging a sudden headache, one worse than a foolish brandy hangover, one heavy like a laudanum-to-set-a-broken-bone headache. "I beg your pardon?"

He released her.

She rolled out of bed, taking the covers with her.

Miss Burghley stood near the window. Morning sun streamed through the parted curtains and reflected hints of gold in her dark brown locks.

"What.... What are you doing here, my lord?" Her voice sounded squeaky at first then settled into her typical lighter tone, the one he'd grown to know this past year, the one he knew well enough to realize that this wasn't pretend. "Hartwell, what is this?"

"Sleep, my dear. At least it was."

"In my bedchamber? I never thought you a bounder. You're honorable. I trusted you."

Being caught in bed with a duke's daughter would be a death sentence for his bachelorhood. So Jasper purposed to remain calm. "You're in my room, Miss Burghley. Why are you here? What new scheme is this?"

Mobcap askew, she frowned and rubbed at her crown. More curly hair spilled, long and free, down her shoulders. The woman's sun-kissed face had fevered to bronze. "I didn't. I'm not scheming. This is ..." Her head turned side to side. "Not my room. How did this happen?" She clutched at the bedsheets tighter. "What happened?"

Though he remembered every touch and taste of his dream, he was very unsure of how she had ended up in his bed. Everything inside his head was foggy, but he couldn't say that. "Nothing — of consequence — happened. Nothing."

The bold sprite he'd befriended this past year looked faint as she shifted her hands to her temples and then back to catch the falling covers. Despite her efforts, the blankets dropped to her knees offering another view of her shapely limbs and hips that did her nightgown proud.

"Lord Hartwell, I've come to know you ... not biblically ... I mean, I respect you as a person, but I don't believe you. You're not looking at my face. We must be compromised."

What man would stop at her pretty face, when there was a waist and curves to view? "Compromise denotes henpecked stupidity. Neither of us is that."

Wrapping the blanket about her like a butterfly's cocoon, she hopped and paced, hopped and paced. "What are we going to do?"

The noise of footfalls was outside his door. The duke's housekeeping staff must rise early.

Miss Burghley stilled, her eyes wide as tea saucers. "Papa will say this is my fault. He'll say you should marry me." She started hopping again. "What am I going to tell him?"

"Don't mention that M word or the compromise one, either. I'm not ready to duel your father. He's reportedly still a good shot. Perhaps he'd rather fence. I'd win at that."

"Must you tease, Hartwell?"

He put his back to the bed frame. "Teasing is your specialty, Miss Burghley. Or it had been." She'd been different these past few months.

"I can't tell my father. I've been careful."

"To not get caught?"

The look she cast him — hurt, appalled, almost disgusted — made his mouth dry. What was left of his soul hurt for her. "I'm sorry."

She hopped again, muttering to herself. He wasn't sure if she'd requested the devil to take him but Jasper sort of agreed. He'd taken her flirting as worldliness, and her sudden disinterest as a new lover preoccupying her, but this hopping butterfly seemed more innocent and insecure than he'd ever seen. He was more interested in her, but still cautious. "We haven't been compromised, Miss Burghley. I'm not ready to miss the decorations and plum pudding at Yuletide because of an early demise. So no talk of duels, compromise, or marriage."

"Marry you? No. No. No." She took a quick peek beneath the bedclothes. She sighed. "You haven't seen me, have you? Tell me you haven't."

There was that naive tone again, and for all the teasing he'd endured from the minx and had missed receiving these past three months, he wanted to point out that he was in a worse state of undress.

Shirt and waistcoat hanging on the post.

Dancing slippers and formal pantaloons on the floor.

One knock on the door, and she paled. "I can't be caught with you. Lord Hartwell, you have to help me."

The last time she'd uttered those words it was for him to retrieve her gloves and a Gunter ice. His heart saddened for her. There was no hint of flirtation in her voice — just fear.

"Miss Burghley, at least I am confident that you did not intend to compromise me."

"Certainly not. Never you."

Another knock. This one rattled the door.

After checking beneath the blanket again, she moved as if she'd answer. "Just a moment."

"Yes, ma'am. I won't come in."

Miss Burghley turned to Jasper. "That's Martica. She's my maid. She can help. She's loyal."

Still gritting his teeth at the never you comment, he put up his hand. "Stop."

She froze like she'd become a snowball, as if her feet had become ice blocks.

"I need to be dressed before that door opens. What do you mean, never me?"

"Not you or anyone. You're too — No ... no marriage created by scandal. Can you hurry?"

"This is my room, Miss Burghley. I should've answered." He pulled on his wrinkled shirt and pantaloons at a pace just shy of a horse's last stroll before being put to pasture.

"Will you. Lord Hartwell ... Naked chest." The girl's face fevered bright and shiny like a torch, then she spun in the other direction. Her worldly facade crumbled, exposing a fragile innocence. That was very unexpected from a courtesan's daughter.

Now he hurried, if only to keep her from bursting into flames from another refreshing blush. Scooping up his shoes, he came up behind her. Though she was tall, very tall for a woman, his six-foot-four height towered over her. "Butterfly, I'm dressed."

She covered her eyes and spun to him. "You sure?"

He pulled her hand down and hooked his coat on her finger. "You could've hidden in the closet. And ... you've set us up to be caught."

"I sleepwalk sometimes, especially after a fright." She went to the window. Her blanket dropped, giving another eyeful of the lithe woman — one more demure than he'd assumed.

"Hartwell. You. Out the window."


The knocking picked up.

The minx Burghley pointed outside. "Hurry."

"Ma'am," the maid said. "Miss Burghley, the duke is coming." The voice, scared, respectful, desperate, surely came from a sympathetic servant on the other side of a pleased-be-locked-door. "He's seen the broken window in your room, ma'am."

Broken window? Miss Burghley was in danger? Jasper turned, heading to the door. "Where's your room?"

Miss Burghley caught his arm. "Down the hall, the opposite side. But you can't go. You and I can't be seen leaving this room together."

She was right. He let her tow him to the window.

He put a hand to her shoulder and felt her trembling. The unflappable Miss Burghley seemed fragile — fragile and frightened. "Woman, who's threatening you?"

She wiggled away and threw open the locks of the window. Then she tossed his coat outside. "Leave."

Arguing with her when her mind was set was a losing battle. Another lesson he'd learned this past year as her erstwhile errand man. Sighing, he put one leg out the window. The cold November wind chilled his bare feet, and looking down, he saw frost. "Butterfly. Just tell me."

A frown, deeper than the one she'd worn at her father's wedding, marked her lips. "A man came through my window last night, Lord Hartwell. He's determined to kill me."


"Out out out."

He climbed through the window and balanced on the ledge. This woman was going to make him climb down the trellis. Lord, he hoped it would hold. "Miss Burghley, we have to discuss — "

She shoved him until he almost fell off the ledge. "Later, sir. Much later, perhaps when time freezes."

The window slammed shut, and the curtains closed before he could offer another complaint, but he'd not stop asking questions, not until he found out who'd tried to hurt her.

He dropped his shoes, and they landed with a thunk onto the frosted grass. If he caught a cold ...


Beautiful Burghley. The Duke of Simone's Burghley.

The Butterfly. Only she could land him in such trouble. Well, she, and his daughters.

Jasper shook his head, sounding too much like his brother, grousing over the antics of females.


Excerpted from "The Butterfly Bride"
by .
Copyright © 2018 Vanessa Riley.
Excerpted by permission of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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The Butterfly Bride 4 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 6 reviews.
etoile1996 More than 1 year ago
the butterfly bride is freddie's story and the third installment of the advertisements for love series. what makes this series unique is that the protagonists are black women making lives for themselves in regency london. it's not an easy life, but all things considered, as the illegitimate daughter of a duke, freddie doesn't have it so bad. and yet, with her father recently remarried, and her closest friends too, she wants marriage for herself. so she vows to select a groom for christmas. she's had offers. and lord hartwell, is just the guy to help her rule them out. nevermind their attraction. he doesn't think she wants to be the stepmother to his four daughters. she doesn't want to be someone's second choice. she knows he is still in love with his dead wife and there is no competing with that. but hartwell is unwilling to approve these suitors easily. he doesn't actually want to let freddie go. and freddie is under some threat, as someone has vandalized her room, stolen her mother's jewels and threatened her life. so hartwell also works to figure this out. he is not willing to risk freddie's life for anything. once these two figure out that what they share is more than friendship, they sort themselves out. but it takes a while. **the butterfly bride will publish on october 22, 2018. i received an advance reader copy courtesy of netgalley/entangled publishing (amara) in exchange for my honest review.
Noire More than 1 year ago
I received an ARC of this book to read through NetGalley in exchange for a fair review. The Butterfly Bride is the 4th book in Vanessa Riley’s Advertisements For Love Series. I found this book difficult to read as a stand-alone, many times I was confused and felt that I was missing something and so would recommend that you read the other books in the series first. I also had a problem with the narration of the book in the beginning because the narrator has been drugged and is confused and then later and then later because the narrative was like a butterfly flitting here and there and I had to struggle to make sense of the story. I don’t think I ever came to a true understanding of the characters in the book. Frederica Burghley is the daughter of a duke but her mother was his mistress not his wife and so even though Frederica lives with the duke her position is precarious, in that she doesn’t feel secure as she is of mixed race, the Duke has never made her feel secure in his love, she’s been receiving threatening letters and the Duke has recently remarried and she is sure that the new Duchess will not want her around. She has placed an advertisement in the paper looking for a husband. Jasper Fitzwilliam Lord Hartwell is a friend to Frederica and the duke charges him with her care while he is on his honeymoon. Jasper is to help her interview the prospective husbands and keep her safe as the letter writer has become more dangerous. Mildly Steamy. Publishing Date October 30, 2018 #NetGalley #TheButterflyBride
marongm8 More than 1 year ago
The Butterfly Bride reminded me of Leap Year when all get married on a leap year, their family is blessed with good luck for the rest of their life. In the Butterfly Bride Frederica finds luck in wanting to get married by Cheistmastime. She seems help from her friend Jasper and then while he helps her he falls for her. This will do very well in the romance collection and our patrons love a great romance story. A hallmark-like story that pulls you in and want to be invested in such a fascinating journey. #Netgalley #thebutterflybride
FizzaYounis More than 1 year ago
All in all, it's a good read, but there were some parts that bored me while I was reading and I had to take a break before continuing with the story. I found it a little bit slower for my taste. Other than that I liked it a lot. The story is good, characters are well-developed and it's quite intriguing. I especially enjoyed the whole mystery/danger aspect of it. Frederica Burghley is an illegitimate daughter of a Duke. All her life she has tiptoed around society, careful of not causing any scandals, she fears being compared to her mother and just wants a respectable life. That's why she must marry now because the Duke himself has a new bride and her status in his household has become precarious. She is hoping to find a husband among the candidates who responded to her newspaper advertisement. There is only one problem; one of them could be a potential psychopath bend upon hurting her. That isn't going to deter her though, she must marry soon and she will find a husband for herself at any cost. Love can wait until after marriage. Jasper likes Frederica and hates the thought of her marrying someone else. However, he can't marry her. So, he must let her go. He can only ever be a friend to her. The kind of friend she deserves. When he finds out that she is in danger he appoints himself as her guardian. But will he be able to keep his distance, find her a husband, and keep her safe all at once? Or are they both running towards an imminent disaster? It's an enjoyable read that I would recommend to all historical fiction fans. Although, it's a standalone novel, it is better to read the series in order if you plan to read all the books in this series because characters from previous books made an appearance in this one. And it will be more fun to know their backgrounds and history as well.
georgia1 More than 1 year ago
A story of the difficulties life can bring and the way to happiness. Frederica Burghley is in search of a husband before her father finds one for her. Advertising in the paper seemed the logical place to start. Unfortunately it brought out a scary response with threats to her life. She goes to her friend, Jasper who has two children and is a widower. But he ends up doing more than just protecting her, she wants him to help her find a suitable husband! What's a man to do? Keeping her safe from a dangerous man and caring for her more than he wants, he tries to hold back his affections. After all, he has not gotten over the death of his wife. This was really a very sweet romance that is part of the Advertisements for Love series. Amusing and heartwarming you will be swept up into the Victoria era and will not want to turn the last page. Although this is part of a series, it can be read as a standalone. I read this through NetGallery. Lori Dykes
Sunshine1006 More than 1 year ago
The book starts with someone breaking into Miss Frederica Burghley's room. She is the Duke of Simone’s illegitimate daughter. They stole jewelry and cut up some of her clothes. Whoever did this has been sending threatening letters for a few months. Jasper, Lord Hartwell has been more than a good friend to her. She calls him her errand man because she keeps asking him to do things for her. Jasper calls her Butterfly. Jasper, a thirty three years old widower with three children is very attracted to her, but he is still in love with his dead wife, Maria. He just can't love another until his heart is ready. When Frederica's father goes on his honeymoon, he leaves Frederica in Jasper's care. She has advertised for a husband and wants to be married by Yuletide. He has agreed to look over the prospects before allowing her to marry. She loves Jasper but won't marry him until he can say he loves her, too. Racial issues are touched upon as Frederica is at least part black. I liked the book but thought Jasper and Frederica were somewhat childish. Will they find out who is threatening Frederica before she gets hurt and will Jasper learn to love again? I received this book from Net Galley and Entangled Publishing for a honest review and no compensation otherwise.The opinions are my own