Just Like Heaven
Just Like Heaven
Julia Quinn
Dedication
For Pam Spengler-Jaffee.
You are a goddess in every way.
And also for Paul,
even though when I went to him
for medical advice to save my ailing hero,
he replied, “He has to die.”
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Epilogue
About the Author
By Julia Quinn
Copyright
About the Publisher
Prologue
Marcus Holroyd was always alone.
His mother died when he was four, but this had surprisingly little effect on his life. The Countess of Chatteris mothered her son the way her mother had mothered her children—from afar. She was not irresponsible; she took great care and pride in finding the very best baby nurse for her husband’s new heir. Miss Pimm was on the darker side of fifty and had already cared for two ducal heirs and a viscount. Lady Chatteris placed her baby into Pimm’s arms, reminded the nurse that the earl could not tolerate strawberries and thus it was likely that the baby could not either, and then left to enjoy the London season.
At the time of her death, Marcus had seen his mother on precisely seven occasions.
Lord Chatteris was more fond of country life than his wife and was more frequently in residence at Fensmore, the great big rambling Tudor house in northern Cambridgeshire that had been home to the Holroyds for generations. But he fathered his son the way his father had fathered him. Which was to say that other than making sure the child was put atop a horse at the age of three, he didn’t see any reason to bother with him until the boy was old enough to conduct a reasonably intelligent conversation.
The earl did not wish to remarry, even though he was warned that he ought to get himself a spare to go along with his heir. He looked at Marcus and saw a boy of good intelligence, excellent athleticism, and passable looks. Most importantly, he was as healthy as a horse. With no cause to suppose that Marcus might kick up and die, the earl saw no reason to subject himself to another round of wife-hunting, or even worse, another wife. He chose instead to invest in his son.
Marcus had the best tutors. He was schooled in every possible corner of a gentleman’s education. He could name all the local fauna and flora. He could ride like he’d been born to a saddle, and if his fencing and shooting weren’t going to win any competitions, he was still well above average. He could do lengthy products and sums without even a drop of wasted ink. He could read Latin and Greek.
By the age of twelve.