Rules for a Lady (A Lady's Lessons, Book 1)

Rules for a Lady

A LADY'S LESSONS

Book One

by

Jade Lee

USA Today Bestselling Author

Newly Revised

RULES FOR A LADY

Reviews & Accolades

"...comparable to notable Regency author Marian Devon."

~Romantic Times Book Club Reviews

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ISBN: 978-1-61417-364-9

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Thank You.

To the woman who taught me

to be a lady: my mother Jane;

and to my children

Amanda and Sherilyn,

who have their own lists of rules.

Prologue

Rule #1:

A lady always wears her hat in public.

"Do you repent now?"

Gillian Ames paused in the clearing behind her cottage, fighting a chill that had nothing to do with the late-winter snow falling silently into her hair. Then Reverend Hallowsby's voice came again, echoing in the frigid air even though the man was inside the small building.

"Mary Ames, I ask you again, do you repent? Your daughter is dead. Your sins exposed. Do you repent?"

Gillian hurried to the back of the cottage, crouching beside the wall as she strained to hear what was happening inside. She closed her eyes, imagining the scene. Her mother would be huddled by the fire, coughing that hacking cough that had sent Gillian out searching for herbs.

Reverend Hallowsby would be towering over her, his narrow face and clutching hands no doubt florid with holy fervor.

But then Gillian heard other sounds. A murmured agreement, a whisper of encouragement. At least five "amens." The biddies were with him. Reverend Hallowsby's two holy women were always there, acting as his chorus as he went out to terrify people to heaven.

"Repent, Mary Ames! Repent, I say!"

Gillian pressed her fist against her mouth, stifling the rage that burned within her. She wanted to dash inside. She wanted to rush to her mother's defense with a broad stick and use it to beat the sanctimonious reverend about the head until he bled.

She had done it before. But she could not. Not this time. She was supposed to be dead. So she stood in the snow, quivering with anger, powerless to stop the holy harangue.

"It is too late for Gillian, Mary Ames. She now twists in the eternal fires of torment. God takes His vengeance!"

Then her mother responded. "Aw, go on w' ye. Git out already. Tis time I took a piss."

Gillian froze at her mother's deliberately coarse tone, knowing that if she allowed herself one breath she would burst into laughter. She should know better than to imagine that the arrogant vicar could intimidate her mother. Mary Ames was made of sterner stuff than that.