Keeping the Castle

by Patrice Kindl Narrated by Bianca Amato

Overview

Award-winning author Patrice Kindl has garnered starred reviews from Kirkus and Publishers Weekly for her return to the YA genre with this humorous take on the classic Regency romance. In Keeping the Castle, 17-year-old Althea must find a wealthy suitor to support her family, and handsome Lord Boring seems like a fine choice--until his friend Mr. Fredericks intervenes.

Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher

Althea’s tongue-in-cheek commentary…and her razorlike quips are abundantly entertaining, but it is the heroine’s remarkable ingenuity and compassion for loved ones…that make her so endearing.”—Publishers Weekly, starred review

“Kindl writes with sharp, effervescent, period-specific language that is so spot-on readers may find themselves adopting a British accent. This witty take on classic Regency romances is frothy fun.”—Booklist, starred review
 
This droll tale set in 19th-century England will earn smiles of recognition from those familiar with Pride and Prejudice…archly humorous.”—School Library Journal, starred review
 
“[A] clever take on Jane Austen’s ‘Pride and Prejudice’”—The Boston Globe
 
“A romp of a Regency romance . . . funny as well as satisfying.”—Kirkus Reviews

“Fans of costume dramas and novels of manners will recognize touches of other influences (Downton Abbey, for instance, and even Miss Manners) as well as clear Austen homages…a very satisfying story.”—BCCB

Product Details

BN ID:	2940170962839
Publisher:	Recorded Books, LLC
Publication date:	07/05/2013
Edition description:	Unabridged

Read an Excerpt

from Keeping the Castle

We were walking in the castle garden. The silvery light of early spring streaked across the grass, transforming the overgrown shrubbery into a place of magic and romance. He had begged me for a few moments of privacy, to “discuss a matter of great importance.” By this I assumed that he meant to make an offer of marriage.

            “I love you, Althea—you are so beautiful,” murmured the young man into my ear.

            Well, I was willing enough. I looked up at him from under my eyelashes. “I love you too,” I confessed. I averted my gaze and added privately, “You are so rich.”

            Unfortunately, I apparently said this aloud, if just barely, and his hearing was sharper than one would expect, given his other attributes.

            “I beg your pardon? You love me because I’m rich?”

            “Not only because of that,” I hastened to assure him. He also was reasonably amiable and came of a good family. He admired me and was apparently willing to overlook my lack of fortune, all points in his favor. And, yes, he was rich. Quite enough to turn the head, and the heart, of an impressionable and impecunious young girl such as myself.

            “So,” he thought this over, “if I lost my money you wouldn’t love me anymore?”

            “If I became ill,” I countered, “so that my hair fell out in clumps and my skin was covered with scabs and I limped, would you still love me?”

            “Egad!” He stared at me, evidently attempting to picture this. He turned a little green.

            “But,” I said, “Most likely those things will not happen. You are rich and I am beautiful. We should make an excellent couple. Our children will have my looks and your money.” At least, so I hoped. Only imagine a child with his lack of neck and my lack of funds! The poor man’s head looked exactly like a melon, or perhaps one of those large orange gourds from the Americas, bursting out of his cravat. And he had such big red lips, which he licked incessantly.

            We each were lost in our own separate thoughts for a moment, I, mourning the fate of these hypothetical offspring, he, as his subsequent commentary proved, considering the finer distinctions of desire and avarice.

            “It’s not the same thing,” he said at last, looking sulky. “Admiration of a woman’s beauty in a man is . . .” he waved a hand, searching for the mot juste, “it’s spiritual. It shows that he has a soul.” His gaze swept up and down my form, lingering regretfully on my bosom, which was exposed enough for interest and covered enough for decorum. He licked his lips. “But,” he went on, withdrawing his gaze, “any consideration of the contents of a man’s purse by a lady he is courting is—I regret to say this to one I held in such high esteem only a few short moments ago, but I must—it is mercenary and shows a cold heart. I must withdraw my protestations of ardor. Good evening to you.”

            He bowed, turned and stalked out of the garden. I sighed. When would I learn to speak with a tactful tongue? There went another one. I kept forgetting how ridiculously sensitive and illogical men were. He assumed that his fortune would buy a beauty; I assumed that my beauty would procure me a rich husband. It seemed much the same thing to me, but evidently what was permissible in a man was not in a woman.

            Ah well. There was yet time; I was but seventeen.
(Continues…)

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Excerpted from "Keeping the Castle"
by .
Copyright © 2012 Patrice Kindl.
Excerpted by permission of Penguin Young Readers Group.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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