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Miss Hannah Richardson is
enjoying a Season in London. She's not looking for a husband, at least not this
Season. She wants to enjoy herself before settling down to married life. All
that changes, however, when she sees the Duke of Wetherby. He's tall, dark and
impossibly handsome and someone Hannah wants to get to know better.
Camden Darkin, the Duke of
Wetherby, is not fond of attending soirees, dinners or balls, but his latest
mission for the Crown demands he mingle with the ton. He has vowed not to marry because of his dangerous work and
the constant bevy of beauties anxious mothers throw into his path is not
tempting him in the least. That is, until he meets Hannah Richardson, a young
woman unlike any other he's ever met. Can he learn to love or will his hardened
heart rob him of the very thing he needs the most.
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Excerpt:
The
Season thus far had been exciting, most especially because Hannah wasn’t on the
hunt for a husband like many of the other young ladies who were attending their
first Season. Her parents were not pushing for her to marry. She had time to
find a husband, although she would like to experience the excitement of the
hunt, especially after watching her brother, Ethan, marry Miss Emily Stanton
and her cousin, Colby Tisbury, marry Lady Isabel Knott, all within the last two
years. She craved that drama, that rush of tantalizing feelings of impending
romance, of flinging oneself into the pool of suitors and being the one to decide
which young man would sweep her off her feet. The Season was one enjoyable
party after another.
Tonight,
her aunt was hosting a dinner party followed by dancing. Hannah was trying hard
to remember to address her as Lady Tisbury in public and not revert to the more
familiar moniker of Aunt Mary. Tonight’s affair was as lavish as ever, and she
was enjoying it immensely.
“It’s
so lovely here,” she murmured as she stepped off the balcony and wandered down
the path. She breathed deep inhaling the exotic smells of the gardens. Her aunt
had hired the best and most experienced gardener in London, and no other gardens
rivaled the Tisbury Gardens, especially with its many varieties of roses.
Hannah bent over one of the more fragrant roses and let the fragrance envelop
her. When she straightened, she thought she heard voices scattered on the
breeze. She looked farther down the path, but the shadows were deep and no one
was in sight.
“Who’s
there?” she whispered. Perhaps it was a couple seeking privacy. She knew she
shouldn’t go snooping, but the thought of seeing who was meeting in secret spurred
her down the path.
She
looked left and right, but there was no one around. She sighed. There would be
no spying on illicit love tonight and it was time to return to the ballroom before
her own reputation was compromised. Before she could take another step, an arm circled
around her waist and a hand tightened around her throat tugging back against a
broad, hard chest.
“Oh!”
she cried out in surprise as her heart hammered in fright. A cold, quiet terror
unfurled in her chest. She had never been handled so roughly in her life. Who
would dare do such a thing, and especially in her aunt’s gardens? What was the
meaning of this? Was she going to be harmed?
“You
must be careful not to walk alone at night, Miss Richardson,” a deep, husky voice
whispered in her ear.
“What
do you want? Unhand me at once,” she demanded, her rising indignation
overtaking her original scare.
“To
pass along a warning, that’s all. Heed my advice,” he said, his hot breath on
her neck sending unexpected shivers down her spine.
“How
dare you put your hands upon my person?” she asked, trying to dislodge the arm
around her waist.
In
an instant, the pressure was gone, and she felt adrift with the mystery man
gone. Hannah whirled around to confront the scoundrel who had accosted her, but
there was no one there.
“Well, I never,” she said,
putting her hands on her hips and stomping her foot. The encounter had unsettled
her more than she wanted to admit, but if she was completely honest, that deep
voice had resonated within her and she was more than a little curious about whom
the owner could be. She was being foolish, of course, and shook her head free
of such thoughts. A gentleman should never put his hands on a lady like that,
and yet, it had been thrilling all the same.
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