In my last blog post you saw Nell, the heroine of Ruining Miss Wrotham, through the hero's eyes. In this post I'd like to swap it around and show you the hero, Mordecai Black, through heroine's eyes.

Here's part of a scene from early in the book. The set up is this: Nell has very little money and she desperately needs to get to Exeter to find her missing sister, Sophia. Mordecai Black is a shocking rake and has just offered to help her. The scene takes place in a hackney carriage in London.

Black climbed in after her. The door swung shut and Nell was alone with him. Alone with Mordecai Black.

Awareness of him swept through her, the same unsettling mix of attraction and fear that had plagued her Season. Her pulse fluttered and her skin tightened and her breath came a little shorter. Don’t be silly, Nell told herself tartly. You don’t want him and he most certainly doesn’t want you.

She took a deep, steadying breath and turned her attention to Sophia. How long would it take to reach Exeter? Dare she accept Mr. Black’s assistance to get there? Should she accept it?

Nell gripped her reticule tightly and wrestled with her conscience. She ought not allow Black to pay for a post-chaise to Exeter. She could never repay him, therefore it would be wrong of her—and quite apart from that it would be grossly improper. She was an unmarried lady; he was Mordecai Black. Scandal clung to him. Any association with him would tarnish her.

But she was already tarnished. Scandal clung to her, too, and what did her reputation matter anyway? What mattered was finding Sophia as soon as possible, and if Mr. Black could help her, she would accept anything he offered. Even if it was improper of her to do so, and even if it put her in his debt.

Nell stole a glance at him and felt the familiar response: the fluttering pulse, the shiver. I want him. I fear him. Foolish, conflicting emotions. Emotions she ought to have mastered a year ago.

There was no denying that Mordecai Black had a memorable face—the dangerous angles of cheekbone and jaw, the eyes so dark they were almost black, the Dereham nose. That nose had overpowered the late earl’s face, but it didn’t overpower Black’s face. It was in keeping with the rest of him: striking, strong. An assertive nose with a high and prominent bridge. The sort of nose a Roman emperor would have had. The nose stopped Black being pretty, as Roger was. It stopped him being classically handsome, despite his chiseled cheekbones. But it didn’t stop him being beautiful, because Mordecai Black was beautiful, in a way that was purely and aggressively masculine. He had a face that drew the eye. A face women looked at twice. A face that made other men’s faces appear soft and feminine by contrast.

Nell looked down at her hands gripping the reticule. Mordecai Black’s face was irrelevant. What mattered was his character. Can I trust this man?

So, there you have it: the hero of Ruining Miss Wrotham through the heroine's eyes. (You can imagine them in the back of this carriage if you like, heading towards all sorts of adventures...)





[Image courtesy of the Rijksmuseum collection of public domain images.]