In romances, some of the tension often comes from a would-be or imagined or actual rival for the affections of the main characters. This week, I’m inviting author who wishes to share an excerpt about a rival. Mine is from Paradise At Last, and James has no idea.

The usual chattering flock of maidens hovered in his vicinity, trying to attract his attention. In the thirty-three months since he ascended to his title, he’d lost count of the number of ladies who happened to swoon or trip or collapse just as he passed close enough to catch them. Sometimes, he fantasised about speeding up in time to let them crash to the floor behind him. So far, he had resisted the temptation.

At least the marriageable females could be defeated by icy civility. Not so the bored matrons and dashing widows looking for less respectable liaisons. They found it incredible that a widower who was also a wealthy duke might survive without someone to warm his bed, and therefore assumed he was extremely discrete, which made an affair with him even more to be desired.

He was not looking for a mistress. It was the truth, whether they believed it or not. As a young man, he had been unusual among his wild friends in needing an emotional connection before he could consider physical intimacy. Since experiencing the heights of bliss and the joys of partnership with Mahzad, his beloved wife, he had even less interest in mindless coupling.

Nor did he need a wife. He had his heir; his eldest son who wife was carrying their second child. In all the years since Mahzad’s death, he had considered joining his life with only one other. With Eleanor, whom he had lost once again.

Mrs Turner was approaching, a predatory gleam in her eye. James was pretty sure it was her who had groped his bottom when they stood side by side in the reception line. She stopped when greeted by a friend, and James took the opportunity to step sideways behind a group who were earnestly discussing, of all things, the most fashionable colour to use for evening turbans.

“Avoiding an ambush, Duke?” He knew that amused contralto, and turned to smile at the speaker as she slipped a hand onto his elbow.

“Mrs Kellwood. How are you this evening?” The widow had become a friend in the past few months—a safe lady to spend time with at events such as this. She had, initially, suggested a more intimate relationship, but had readily accepted his refusal.

“I survive, my dear, but would be the better for a stroll on the terrace, if you would be kind enough to oblige me.”

James offered his arm, wondering if she was about to overstep the boundaries of friendship, but she made no attempt to press close or to lean on his arm. Still, he stiffened when she admitted, “I have an ulterior motive, Duke. I will tell you all about it when we are out of the crowd.”

But all she was after was a listening ear. “My son is insisting I invest in this mining venture, Duke, and — I don’t know. I can see nothing wrong with it, but I just have a feeling…” She shrugged. “Am I being foolish? Do you know anything about diamond mining in the Cape Colony?

James’s guilt at having ascribed to her, even briefly, the marital or lustful motives of so many other females had him offering to read the prospectus and ask a few quiet questions among his contacts.

“But you are so busy!” she exclaimed. “I do not like to bother.”

“It is no bother,” he assured her. “Send it over.”