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Excerpt:Enter the world of the most notorious gambling den in London, where matches are made... unusually. Welcome to the world of THE LYON'S DEN: The Black Widow of Whitehall Connected World, where the underground of Regency London thrives... and loves.
What’s a young lady to do when a powerful lord tries to abscond with her and make her his mistress?
When you’re Miss Honoria Quinn, you leap from his carriage and run like the wind to find some place to hide. Trouble is, Honoria mistakenly chooses The Lyon’s Den, a disreputable gambling house as her sanctuary, a move that ends up with her having to make another choice at the hands of the Den’s match-making proprietor Mrs. Dove-Lyons: wed a complete stranger or become the lord’s mistress.
No good deed goes unpunished…
Thomas, Lord Braeton agrees to attend a wager at The Lyon’s Den only to keep his brother-in-law out of trouble. What he doesn’t count on is becoming embroiled in one of Mrs. Dove-Lyons’s schemes to marry him off. But when he tries to come to the aid of another peer, Thomas finds the only honorable thing he can do to save Miss Quinn’s reputation is put aside his hopes for a love match for himself and instead offer to marry her.
As Thomas and Honoria set out on a wary journey to matrimony, can they learn to live together and hope love will grow between them? Or are they doomed to a loveless marriage of convenience from which one or both will want to escape?
“Were I an artist I’d insist on painting you just as you are, my dear.”
Honoria jumped and whirled around at the sound of Thomas’s voice, scattering some of her clippings as she turned. “Oh, you startled me, Thomas. I thought I was alone out here.”
“I didn’t find you in the house and somehow knew this was where you would be.” Her husband smiled that charming, lazy smile and her knees went weak. “Let me pick these up as I have been the cause for their fall.” Taking the basket from her, he stooped and carefully placed the stems back in her basket. As he picked up the Maiden’s Blush he chuckled softly, and Honoria’s cheeks flamed again. “These should make excellent displays.” He rose and handed her the basket. “You have quite a talent for arranging them.”
“Thank you.” Resisting the urge to fan herself, Honoria took the basket and sauntered to the nearest rose bush, which happened to be an exquisite deep pink Apothecary’s Rose. “Why were you looking for me? Ouch!” She’d grabbed the rose too hastily and a thorn bit deeply into her thumb. “That hurt.”
“Let me see.” Beside her in a moment, Thomas cupped her hand in his and turned it palm up. A large bead of dark red blood had welled up on the pad of her thumb. He brushed the drop away then raised her thumb to his lips and kissed it.
Honoria gasped as a streak of lightning seemed to race through her hand, up her arm and lodge itself at her innermost core. Dazed, she stared up into his dark brown eyes, filled with a longing she understood all too well.
About the Author:
She lives in Virginia with her family and a small menagerie of pets--including two vocal cats, one almost silent cat, two curious bunnies, and a Shar-pei mix named Frenchie.
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