Was there a part that bored or that you didn't really like in the book? *

Even a character, a scene, or anything. You could say no if nothing bothered you.

What moment from the book you enjoyed the most? *

It can be a character, a scene, a trait, or anything, you have enjoyed.

Did you get frustrated that Arabella's son was not really punished for his behaviour? *

• I'd say yes. Although Arabella received her punishment, I think he was behaving bad enough to deserve his own.
• Not really. Arabella was the villain and she got what she deserved.

Does historical accuracy affect your opinion about a novel? *

• Oh, yes! One of the reasons I like historical novels is because I enjoy getting back to times unknown to us. The accuracy is what makes it all feel real.
• I enjoy historical accuracy, but I won't leave a book if it's not 100% accurate. It's a tale after all, and "forgetting" details from the time period sometimes moves the story forward.

Anything else you'd like to share?

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“My dear, you look lovely!”

Matilda smiled and walked down the stairs towards the Duchess of Sinclair, careful not to step on the hem of her new gown. She was very proud of it, having chosen the colour and fit herself, but also a little nervous about the daring low cut of it and the diamond tiara her Mama had suggested she wore. When she had looked in the mirror, she had seen a young lady or a princess, and could find no sign of the shy schoolgirl she knew was hiding inside!

“Very graceful,” Frances nodded approvingly when Matilda reached the bottom step. “And you were right; the blue is just perfect on you.”

“Thank you, Mama,” Matilda said, reaching out her white gloved hands to Frances. “You look wonderful, too.”

It had now been seven years since Matilda had first met Frances, and six since she had married her father. In that time, Frances’ beauty had bloomed into a more mature elegance, as she took on the role of Duchess and mother.

“That is sweet of you to say, darling,” Frances sighed, looking agitatedly around. “But I feel run off my feet! Bartholomew is running around here somewhere, and he simply must be put to bed before the guests arrive – ah!”

At that moment a small, red haired fiend of a five-year-old child pelted into the hall, flinging himself at Matilda’s knees.

“Tilly!” He shouted, “I saw a fox and I chased it and -,”

“Careful of your sister’s dress!” Frances cried, twisting her wedding ring on her finger, a sure sign of mounting anxiety. “Don’t get mud on it! Tonight is her début!”

“It’s boring,” Bartholomew scowled up at his big sister, gripping her skirts. “Can’t we go riding instead?”

“Tomorrow, Barty!” Matilda laughed, bending down to kiss her little brother’s forehead, and to brush his auburn curls away from his brow. His hair was all Frances, but his eyes belonged to her father. “I promise we’ll go riding tomorrow.”

“You will do as you’re told,” Frances scolded, but a sweet smile played around her lips. “Or I shall have to tell Mrs Bury that there are no little Duke’s available to eat the jam tarts she has put up in the nursery!”

Bartholomew eyes grew as round as saucers, and before either of the women could stop him, he had sprinted up the stairs, calling for Mrs Bury and her jam tarts.

“Well, that’s one thing taken care of at least,” Frances sighed, brushing a wayward curl out of her eye. “But there is still so much to be done!”

“What can I do?” Matilda asked.

“Nothing sweetheart!” Frances squeezed her hand. “It is your ball tonight; you should not have to lift a finger!”

“Please, I should like to do something.”

Anything to stop her dwelling on her anxiety about being presented to society would be welcomed.

“Well, in that case…” Frances pursed her lips, turning around. “Please go to the library and check that the servants have placed all the card tables suitably. Holton is already preoccupied, and I have no idea where your father is!”

“I can check.” Matilda leaned forward and kissed Frances on the cheek. “Don’t worry, Mama. It will all turn out beautifully.”

Matilda turned towards the library, her stomach quivering as she thought about the evening ahead. Up until now, Matilda had been sheltered from society at school. She had always been outgoing – at school she had been known for her bold views and outspoken attitude, but the high circles in which her parents moved were something else altogether. She was excited to meet new people, of course, but more than a little nervous that she might say the wrong thing and embarrass her father.  He liked that she was quick and witty, and they often laughed together, but she was anxious what other gentleman of high society might think of her. Still, Frances had said she was just like Matilda when she was a girl, and Frances had taught her everything she knew. She would be alright, she was sure of it, if only she could be brave enough – and as long as he didn’t make an appearance everything would be fine.

“Papa, what are you doing here?”

Matilda opened the library door and saw her father standing by the window and writing in a book. As soon as he heard her voice he straightened up, guiltily. Ralph Wynter still maintained his stature and physique even now that he was past thirty years old, and it made Matilda proud to see her handsome, strong father dressed so finely for her ball.

“Mama is looking for you,” Matilda said, closing the door behind her. “Are you doing something you shouldn’t be?”

She sniffed the air for tell-tale signs of cigars. Since his dreadful illness in her childhood, his wife had been very particular about her father’s health. On doctors’ instructions she only allowed her husband one cigar a day, which he usually took in the evening with brandy. However, Matilda had known him to sneak another occasionally.

“Mercifully, no,” Ralph smiled. “Rather something I should be. Come here.”

Matilda approached cautiously and when she stood in front of him, he pulled out a book. It was leather bound, with the Sinclair crest embossed in gold upon the cover. It also had her name stamped in gold letters: Matilda Wynter.

“For me?” she asked. “Why?”

“It is to commemorate your début,” Ralph squeezed her shoulder softly. “Mama and I are so proud of you.”

Matilda blinked back emotional tears and opened the book to the flyleaf. Written on the page in her father’s slanting, bold hand were the words:

On the occasion of your début,

Our love goes always with you.

Mama and Papa.

 “It’s beautiful.” Matilda sniffed, flicking through the pages. They were blank.

“Your Mama kept a diary when she came out to society,” Ralph said softly. “It is a great treasure of ours, to still have that record of our courtship these many years later. I hope you will make many magical memories.”

“Thank you, Papa.” Matilda stroked the cover of the book. “I shall go and put it upstairs -”

“Well, I had thought you might want to write an entry before the ball,” Ralph smiled, gesturing to the writing desk Matilda sometimes used when she studied. She saw he had filled the ink well and prepared her quill.

“I promised Mama I would check the card tables -” Matilda protested.

“I’ve already done it,” Ralph spoke over her then stepped forward, kissing the top of her head. “From tonight, everything will be different my sweet girl. Take a moment to savour it, to chronicle your expectations. Trust me, you will be glad you did.”

Matilda nodded, a lump in her throat.

Ralph smiled and squeezed her arms. “Now, I should go and make sure the Duchess isn’t going mad with all the preparations!”

Matilda laughed and hugged him, and then he left her alone in the room with the books and her thoughts. She hesitantly sat down, staring at the blank page before her. She wasn’t much of a writer, but if she was going to write down one thought about her expectations or hopes for tonight, what would they be? She considered and then, setting pen to paper, began to write.

I am so nervous I can barely think. Soon, I shall be a real lady of society! If he comes tonight, I don’t know what I shall do…

If you want to know what lies ahead in our story, you may want to get the sequel…

Matilda Wynter finds herself married to the only man she ever loved but this marriage hangs from a thread. For she holds a big secret. As unexpected as this union is, their feelings grow strong and their passion rises. Yet, for how long can she deceive the man she loves? What if Henry uncovers her lie…?

A Lie to Lay with the Lord