The first scene that appears in my mind as a new story idea is not always the first scene of the book. It would make things easier if it was, since that scene usually depicts a moment when a character's life has changed or is about to change.
However, my brain tends to throw out a teaser, a tantalizing "what if" that makes me eager to learn what else is going to happen.
That's what happened with Lord Rakehell's Love.
I thought about a hero, a rake, who is late to his wedding, and all the commotion that would cause. How could he possibly recover from such a dreadful faux pas?
I was sure I had it all figured out. He had been celebrating the night before with his best friend—the Regency version of a bachelor party—and then he oversleeps, jumps out of bed realizing what a jerk he is, and rushes to the chapel to his unhappy bride.
I must have written that scene about ten times. I revised and revised, trying to explain why he was tardy on the most important day of his life.
He was in bed dreaming of his new bride, thinking she's there with him, and then realizes she's not. . .
*mashes the backspace key until no trace will ever be found*
He wakes up with the mother of all hangovers, wondering why he feels so crappy, instantly sober when he realizes he's late. . .
Nope. Nope. Not it. Delete, delete, delete to infinity.
Why didn't this important scene have the impact I wanted?
Just before I was about to toss my laptop out the window of a moving car, I got my answer: I had jumped too far ahead.
Yes, his mistake was a catalyst, since it changed what happens in the story afterwards. But the story hadn't truly started yet. The consequences for the hero's behavior were too generalized. Anyone hearing about a groom late to his wedding would think, "Wow, that sucks." They might even wonder what happens next.
But how would they respond after experiencing this couple falling in love?
So here's how the scene changed, and it's one of my faves. We're at the chapel, and well, you can see what happens:
~~~~~
It was the wedding debacle of the century.
Georgiana sniffled, hiding her distress in a weak smile and her lawn handkerchief. The very handkerchief from the evening she had fallen instantly in love with Simon. She had insisted on having it today, for purely sentimental reasons, while she plighted her troth.
Unfortunately, the groom was not present.
Nor was there any indication he was planning on being at the church anytime soon. If he was, surely he would have sent a servant to relay the news, along with a basketful of apologies. She was torn between wishing something dreadful had befallen him, and wishing he would arrive so she could be the one who caused something dreadful to befall him.
It had been such a whirlwind romance. During the past weeks she had become the darling of the gossips, since it was unheard of for a Wallflower Row miss to receive an offer of marriage from a genuine London rake.
Everyone had been incredulous when Lord Rakehell had declared himself in love, and ready to join her in holy matrimony. Perhaps he had not been ready after all.
Georgiana sniffed again, fighting back tears she refused to let fall. If only she had heeded her mother's warnings about wedding a notorious rake. Yet how could she have attended Mama's entreaties to be cautious? She had been swept up into passionate and exciting moments she had never thought to experience.
Perhaps instead of finding the love of her life, she had just committed the grandest mistake of her life.
All at once there was a commotion outside the church, with the sounds of horses whinnying and shouts from an assortment of people. Her heart leapt, much as she chided it for doing so.
In the next instant, Simon was walking toward her, his demeanor as sheepish as when the Dowager had called him a scandal. His clothing was in complete disarray, something she had never seen from him, even after the stolen moments they had shared when chaperones were scarce. His hair was mussed, but not in the careless manner that was so fashionable.
No, it was as if he had just tumbled from bed, and dashed across town to the church.
Georgiana steeled her features into the most disapproving of expressions.
"Georgie!" Simon's arms were spread wide, as if expecting her to race into them and smother him with kisses.
She had quite a different smothering in mind just then. "My lord."
His smile vanished at the unwelcoming monotone of her voice. "Georgiana, I can explain."
"I am eager to hear it." Her tone grew icier as she considered all of the possibilities. None of them would please her, she was quite certain of that.
"Yes, well, I am not at all sure how it happened. Because I have been thinking of nothing else but this night. . . I mean, this day."
Her cheeks heated, for she had spent a great deal of time pondering this evening too, but she pretended she did not take his meaning. Instead, she lifted her eyebrows, awaiting his explanation.
Every one of the wedding guests leaned forward in the oak pews, unable to hide their interest in what he had to say.
"Georgiana." Simon moved closer, his voice lowered so only she could hear him. "I know it is unforgivable, but I beg you to forgive me nonetheless. I have no idea how this happened. It was not intentional. I can assure you of that." His eyes begged her to relent. He leaned in until his lips were at her ear. "I shall spend the entire evening proving my devotion. As well as the next. And every night thereafter."
She shivered. She had waited a seeming eternity for the moment they could explore the passion that flared between them on a constant basis. She almost fanned her face, but did not want the amassed audience to know how ardently he affected her.
It was not such a terrible slight, was it? She knew without a doubt that he loved her. His eyes sparkled, as if he could see how close she was to capitulating. The devil knew how much she desired him and was using it to his advantage.
Georgiana opened her mouth, ready to upbraid him for causing her such distress, and for handing the gossips additional reasons to chatter about the unlikeliness of their romance. Once she had given Simon a proper chastising, one that even the Dowager would admire, they could continue with the wedding, and the wedding breakfast, and, at last, the wedding night. . .
She nearly swooned at the delights awaiting them. "Simon, I—"
Another commotion at the entrance to the chapel stole her attention, as well as that of every person in the building. A high-perch phaeton could be seen through the open doorway, and Georgiana was certain she saw Lord Weyson at the reins, along with—
"Lord Rakehell! Your hat."
A scantily-clad woman climbed down from the rig and carefully lifted the headgear from her curly red hair. For propriety's sake, she did her best to stay outside the church, although she was perilously close to falling outside of her bodice. "You forgot your hat!"
Georgiana heard a gasp, and then a muffled thump, and turned to see her mother in a heap on the stone floor. The poor cleric had been unable to stop her fall, though judging from the way he painfully clutched his arm, he had made a valiant effort.
"Georgiana," Simon said again, but this time his shoulders sagged, and his stricken expression made it clear he knew there was no recovering from this catastrophe.
Not when the guests gazed at her with such pity on their faces. After such a public embarrassment, forgiveness was not a gift Georgiana could bestow, no matter how fervently Simon pleaded.
She turned away from him and made it all the way out of the chapel before collapsing into hopeless tears.
~~~~~
I hope you enjoy this First on the Scene post. I plan to do it again in the future, with other books, and possibly works-in-progress.
If you haven't yet read Lord Rakehell's Love, you can find it here:
Amazon ~~ Barnes & Noble ~~ Apple ~~ Kobo
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