Spotlight & Giveaway: How to Fall for a Scoundrel by Kate Bateman

Today, HJ is pleased to share with you Kate Bateman’s new release: How to Fall for a Scoundrel

Two unlikely allies team up to solve a case in this novel filled with Kate Bateman’s signature sparkling voice, exciting adventures, and steamy chemistry.

 
As a founding member of King & Co., London’s most successful private investigation firm, studious Eleanor Law delights in secretly proving that women can solve crimes just as well as men. When a charming con man pretends to be her fictional boss, “Charles King,” Ellie knows he’s lying, but accepting the scoundrel’s offer of help might just be the key to cracking her new case and recovering a priceless manuscript.

“Henri Bonheur”—or “Harry” as he asks to be called—claims his criminal past is behind him, but a man who steals and seduces with such consummate ease can never be trusted. As the investigation draws them deeper into danger and desire, Ellie’s infuriated to realize she’s developed feelings for her law-breaking accomplice.

How can she love the scoundrel when she doesn’t even know his real name? And what will happen when Harry’s past finally catches up with him?

Enjoy an exclusive excerpt from How to Fall for a Scoundrel 

From How to Fall for a Scoundrel by Kate Bateman. Copyright © 2024 by the author and reprinted by permission of St. Martin’s Publishing Group.

Chapter Three

The scoundrel’s lips curved upward at her fury.
“We can’t talk here. Come on.” He caught her elbow and steered her gently through the crowd.
Ellie went willingly, but as soon as they reached a quiet corridor beyond the ballroom, she tugged her arm from his grasp and whirled around to face him.
He shook his head, silently indicating a group of women to their left who were talking and fanning themselves as they took a break from the dancing.
“Still too many people.”
With a growl, she marched along the corridor, opened a door at random, and stepped into a small study. The elegant furniture, pale pink walls, and proliferation of porcelain figurines suggested it was a room favored by the lady of the house.
Ellie turned to face her tormentor as he closed the door behind him with a click.
“Of all the outrageous, presumptuous, dishonest—”
His laugh made her stomach somersault. “You have an excellent vocabulary, Miss Law. Are words with three syllables your favorite?”
Ellie glared at him. “Not at all. In fact, here are some shorter ones: Explain, you fraud.”
He sank gracefully into a comfy-looking armchair on one side of the fire, and with a sweep of his hand indicated its pair, opposite. “Please, sit down.”
She complied with a huff, arranging her skirts so as not to crease them, then raised her brows in regal indication that she was waiting for him to speak.
“You’re right,” he said, “Henri Bonheur is not my real name. Neither, of course, is Charles King. Because, as we both know, Charles King doesn’t exist.”
Ellie’s heart missed a beat, but she schooled her expression to hide her alarm. “Why on earth would you think that?”
“Because I’ve been trying to make his acquaintance for some time. And while plenty of people know him by reputation, I’ve failed to find a single one who’s actually met him in person. Every one of his previous clients have been dealt with by his able “assistants”: yourself, the Duchess of Wansford, and Dorothea Hamilton.”
“He’s a very busy man,” Ellie lied.
“He’s a very fictional man,” he countered with a chuckle.
Ellie pressed her lips together, stubbornly refusing to either confirm or deny his theory. Who was he? And why had he been trying to find Charles King? Was his plan to blackmail them with the threat of revealing the truth about their female-led agency—and thereby ruin the business? Why would he do such a thing? Was he a competitor? Or was it purely for money? He seemed rich enough. Then again, appearances could be deceiving.
“What is your real name?” she demanded.
His shoulders lifted in an elegant shrug. “I wish I could tell you. I was orphaned at a young age, and whatever records were made at the time were lost.”
“That sounds just as much of a fairy tale as ‘Puss in Boots,’ my Lord Carabas,” she said acidly.
“Ah, you caught that reference, did you?” His dimples flashed. “I thought you might. Nevertheless, it’s true. I’ve had many names because—and I trust I have your complete discretion on this, Eleanor—for the past ten years I’ve had an extremely successful career as a criminal.”
Ellie blinked. “That’s a risky thing to confess to the daughter of England’s Lord Chief Justice.”
“Perhaps. My best work has been on the Continent, in Italy and France, although I can’t say I haven’t broken a few laws here in England, too.”
“What sort of crimes?” Ellie’s heart pounded against her breastbone. She was usually a fair judge of character. Had she made a terrible mistake and allowed herself to be lured into a private room with a murderer? A rapist?
His lips curved as if he knew precisely the direction of her thoughts.
“Nothing too dreadful, I promise you. A little burglary, some light pickpocketing. A heist or two. I can crack a safe, pick a lock, cheat at cards, and forge a variety of documents. Perhaps you read about the disappearance of Raphael’s Madonna and Child from the archbishop’s palace in Rome?”
“That was you?”
He gave a pleased nod. “I held it for ransom until the archbishop paid for its safe return. And in my defense, he was a thoroughly unpleasant individual who’d bribed and blackmailed his way to the top and very much deserved the aggravation. I donated all but a small percentage of the proceeds to a foundling hospital in Venice.”
“Why are you telling me this? And why are you here, in London? Are you planning another crime?”
He crossed one long leg over the other, resting his ankle on the opposite knee, and studied her intently. Ellie felt her body heat.
“Quite the contrary. I’ve decided to go straight.”
“Because you’ve realized the error of your ways?”
“Of course not. I’d do precisely the same again, given the chance.” He sent her an unrepentant grin. “But a good player knows when it’s time to quit the game. One can possess extraordinary talent, but the element of chance can never be discounted. A single, unexpected event can ruin the best-laid plans, which is why the most successful criminals are the ones you’ve never heard of. They’re the ones who stopped before they were caught, whose executions never made the news sheets, who lived out their days in blissful obscurity.”
Ellie shook her head, even as she smiled. “You’ve decided to stop before your luck runs out?”
“Precisely. I have no desire to be the richest man in the cemetery. Wise men do it for the money. Dead men do it for the fame.”
“But why are you here?”
“For the same reason you’re working for ‘Charles King.’ ”
“Which is . . . ?”
“Stimulation.”
Her brows shot up and he chuckled. “Let me clarify that. You, Ellie Law, have a brilliant, enquiring mind. You need to fill your days with something challenging, something rewarding, or you’ll go completely mad.”
Ellie’s heart gave an odd little twist. This man was a stranger, a criminal, the complete antithesis of everything she stood for, and yet he could read her as easily as if she were an open book. She felt exposed, seen, as if he’d delved into the deepest part of her soul and pulled out all her frustrations and desires, her drive and ambition, and laid them out on the floor.
His lips curved as he watched her face, and he tilted his head. “And besides, you need me.”

From How to Fall for a Scoundrel by Kate Bateman. Copyright © 2024 by the author and reprinted by permission of St. Martin’s Publishing Group.

Excerpt. ©Kate Bateman. Posted by arrangement with the publisher. All rights reserved.
 
 

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Meet the Author:

KATE BATEMAN (also writing as K. C. Bateman) is a bestselling author of historical romances, including her RITA®-nominated Renaissance romp, The Devil to Pay, the Ruthless Rivals series A Reckless Match, A Daring Pursuit, and A Wicked Game, the Bow Street Bachelors series This Earl of Mine, To Catch an Earl, and The Princess and the Rogue, along with the novels in the Secrets & Spies series To Steal a Heart, A Raven’s Heart, and A Counterfeit Heart. When not writing novels that feature feisty, intelligent heroines and sexy, snarky heroes you want to both strangle and kiss, Kate works as a fine art appraiser and on-screen antiques expert for several popular TV shows in the UK. She splits her time between Illinois and her native England. Follow her on social media to learn more.

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