But she had never before made her mother cry. She had seen exasperation on her mother's face before-many times before, truth be told-and frustration and anger, too, all a result of something she had done or failed to do.

Rebecca watched, transfixed in dread, as the candlelight lit its path down her mother's cheek. Here Lady Tremaine's voice broke, and one tear slipped from her eye. I think it can be fairly said that you are perhaps a special case, but it remains a mother's duty to give her daughter the skills she needs to fulfill her obligation in life. 'No, it is quite clear that I have failed you. 'Mama-' Rebecca began, pleading, but her mother raised her hand abruptly. Her mother did not sit down, or invite Rebecca to sit. Rebecca, in her incriminating black clothing, followed her mother to the sitting room, her heart a frozen fist in her chest. Above all those ruffles Lady Tremaine's mouth was a grim line, and her eyes were shining with unspilled tears. The overall effect was usually endearing tonight, however, it was simply terrifying. She was a short woman who had gone very round in her middle years, and her night robe was flamboyantly ruffled. Lady Tremaine stood on the stairs with a lit candle in hand, a sleeping cap pulled down over her graying curls. I hope you know who you are, and my deep appreciation goes to all of you, too. just because.Īnd to everyone else out there who ever said something kind or positive or supportive: I'm living proof that your words made a difference. To my sis Karen Crist and to Melisa Phillips, for endless encouragement and endless listening. Thanks to Lisa Martin, best bud, sister (at heart) and master craftswoman-what on earth would I do without you, Lis? To David George, for loving the story from the very beginning, which pretty much guaranteed I'd finish writing it to Ken Mierow, for graciously allowing his brain to be ruthlessly picked and for always, always knowing the right thing to say to Doreen DeSalvo, for her humor and stellar feedback and friendship-I'm so glad The Runaway Duke brought you into my life, Doreen! To Steve Czerniak, for his ever-cheerful blunt appraisal, support and laughter-you're a true pal, Esteban. I feel blessed to be a Warner author.Īnd then there are the folks who kept me sane throughout: I'm so glad you're my editor! And a special thank you to Diane Luger and Mimi Bark at Warner, too, for my beautiful cover. my undying gratitude goes to Elizabeth Pomada, agent extraordinaire, who believed in me and found such a wonderful home for my novel to Beth de Guzman and Melanie Murray at Warner, for their heady enthusiasm for The Runaway Duke-and Melanie, I can't thank you enough for your patience, guidance, and humor. Throughout this process I benefited from the astounding generosity and support of so many people.

The Runaway Duke by Julie Anne Long