"Part romance, part suspense, part friendship  . . . The Other Countess will not disappoint--it really is pure gold!"-- Historical Novels Review England, 1582 Ellie —Lady Eleanor Rodriguez, Countess of San Jaime—possesses a worthless title, but her feisty spirit captivates the elite of the Queen's court—especially the dashing new Earl of Dorset. William Lacey, Earl of Dorset , has inherited his father's title—and his financial ruin. Now Will must seek a wealthy bride and restore his family's fortune. If only he hadn't fallen for the beautiful but penniless Ellie . . . Sparks fly whenever Ellie and Will are together, but circumstances—and the conniving interference of others—threaten to keep them apart. EVE EDWARDS has a doctorate from Oxford University and thinks researching is a large part of the fun in writing historical fiction. She has visited Tudor houses, attended jousts, and eaten Elizabethan banquets to get the sights, sounds, and tastes right for this book.  The Other Countess  is her first young adult novel. 1582 "There's no money left," the countess announced, leafing hopelessly through the family accounts. "The harvest returns were not good this year, so we have already run through our reserves." Will stared out of the window, the tiny panes of glass distorting the forked trees. The snow lay thick on the ground. Deer wandered in the park, undisturbed today by any hunt. His quarry for the foreseeable future had to be coin, not meat. "What are we to do, Mother? Do we have to bring James and Tobias home?" The countess rubbed the bridge of her nose, a headache gathering. As Tobias was sharing a tutor at another noble family's house, the fees for her youngest son's schooling were due and James was sending in hefty bills from Cambridge. "And there's Sarah's future to consider too." Will scratched at the frost on a pane with a fingernail, writing his initials. "Thank God, Catherine's well married, but I still owe Huntsford part of the dowry. He said he'd give us time to pay, but it is a stain on our family if I cannot come up with the rest. He's a good friend--and to be frank, it's embarrassing." Will turned to glance up at the picture of his father hanging over the fireplace in his study. This is your fault, he thought. If you had paid more attention to your estate and your family, we would not now be in the mire. Everyone expected him to step easily into the role of earl, but more often than not, Will felt like Atlas, carrying the weight of crushing responsibilities. In his case, the duties were summed up in the title Earl of Dorset; this splendid-sounding noble strutted around keeping up appearances while he, the real Will, staggered underneath the burden, trying to keep his footing. He knew he wasn't up to the task, but had to go on acting the part as so many depended on him. He'd begun to hate this Dorset fellow, whoever he was, and dreamt of casting him off like a snake sheds old skin. Did you feel like that? he asked the portrait. Was that why you hid in your laboratory and let everything slide? "Well, my dear," the countess said, pushing the ledger aside, "there is only one avenue still open to us. You must go to court and repair our fortunes. You must either win the Queen's favor or marry an extremely rich young lady." Amused, Will quirked an eyebrow. "Simple as that?" "Oh my, that does sound rather mercenary, doesn't it?" admitted the countess. "I meant that you should do your duty by our beloved sovereign and aspire to win the heart of some worthy--" "I know what you meant, Mother." Will leant against the casement, crossing his arms and ankles, trying to ignore the fact that his hose were darned at the knee. "But I doubt I can afford to make an appearance that would not have our family dismissed in disgrace." He gestured to his outmoded velvet doublet, inherited from his father's wardrobe. "Not exactly the glass of fashion, am I?" His mother smiled proudly. "My dear, what you lack in clothes you more than make up for in personal attraction, even if I do say so myself." "And mothers are known for their impartiality?" "Of course." She rose and went to the iron-bound coffer that stood against one wall. Taking a key from the chain at her waist, she opened the lid and took out a satin pouch. Will, already guessing what she intended, held his hand out to stop her. "No, Mother, you can't." "I can. My ruby set; part of my dowry. This should raise at least a thousand pounds--enough to equip England's most handsome lord with enough clothes and staff for his season at court." A bleak sadness settled like a cloak on his shoulders. "If you sell that, then we really will have nothing left. I thought you wanted Sarah to have it when she gets married." "I did, but the rubies will be scant comfort to us when we contemplate their beauty and starve this winter with the house falling about our ears." Will approached her and took the jewels. L