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Wrongly accused of theft, innocent Celina Shelley is cast out of the brothel she calls home and flees to Quinn Ashley, Lord Dreycott, for safety. But the heat in the daredevil adventurer's eyes tells Lina that the danger is just beginning....
And into the rake's bedroom!
Lina dresses like a nun, looks like an angel, but flirts like a professional--and the last thing Quinn expects to discover is that she's a virgin!
Out of the brothel...
Wrongly accused of theft, innocent Celina Shelley is cast out of the brothel she calls home and flees to Quinn Ashley, Lord Dreycott, for safety. But the heat in the daredevil adventurer's eyes tells Lina that the danger is just beginning....
And into the rake's bedroom!
Lina dresses like a nun, looks like an angel, but flirts like a professional--and the last thing Quinn expects to discover is that she's a virgin!
Due to publisher restrictions the library cannot purchase additional copies of this title, and we apologize if there is a long waiting list. Be sure to check for other copies, because there may be other editions available.
Due to publisher restrictions the library cannot purchase additional copies of this title, and we apologize if there is a long waiting list. Be sure to check for other copies, because there may be other editions available.
Excerpts-
From the book
Dreycott Park, the north Norfolk coast—April 24th, 1815
'He' s coming!' Johnny, the boot boy, came tumbling through the front door, shirt half-untucked, red in the face with running from his post in the gazebo on top of Flagstaff Hill. He had been up there every day since the message had arrived that the late Lord Dreycott's heir was on his way from London.
Lina gave up all pretence of sewing and came out into the hall. Trimble the butler was snapping his fingers, sending footmen scurrying to assemble the rest of the staff.
She had not been able to settle to anything in the four days since Lord Dreycott's funeral. When she had fled from Sir Humphrey Tolhurst's house, terrified, desperate and wanted by the law, her aunt had sent her to an old friend's rural retreat—to safety, so Clara had believed. But now her elderly protector was gone.
Lina smoothed down the skirts of her black afternoon dress and tried for composure. This was the end of her sanctuary, a brief seven weeks since she had fled from London, a price on her head for a theft she had not committed. The heir was coming to claim what was his and, no doubt, to eject hangers-on from his new house—and then what would become of her?
'Where are the carriages? How many?' the butler demanded.
'No carriages, Mr Trimble, sir. Just two riders and a pack horse. I saw them coming through the Cromer road gate. They're walking, sir, the animals looked tired. They'll be a while yet.'
'Even so, hurry.'
Hurry. Pack, take this money and hurry. The elegant square entrance hall blurred and faded and became a bedchamber. Aunt Clara, white-lipped, her face drawn after a week of racking sickness, dragged herself up against the pillows as Lina sobbed out her story.
'He did not touch you?' she had whispered urgently and they both glanced at the door. Makepeace's bully boy might be back at any moment. 'I swear Makepeace will suffer for this.'
'No. Tolhurst did not touch me.' The relief of that was still overwhelming, the only good thing in the entire nightmare. 'He made me undress while he watched. Then he took his clothes off.' It took a moment to push her mind past the image of indulged middle-aged flab, mottled skin, the terrifying thing that thrust out from below the swell of Tolhurst's belly. 'And he began to reach for me...And then he gasped, and his eyes bulged and his face went red and he fell down. So I rang for help and pulled on my clothes and—'
'He was dead? You are certain?'
'Oh, yes.' Lina hadn't been able to bring herself to touch him, but she could tell. The bulging blue eyes had seemed fixed on her, still avid with lust even as they began to glaze over. She had stared in horror as her fingers fumbled with ribbons and garters. 'They all came in then—the valet, the butler, the younger son, Reginald Tolhurst. Mr Tolhurst knelt down and tried to find a pulse—then he sent the valet for the doctor and told the butler to lock me in the library. He said his father's sapphire ring was missing.'
'The Tolhurst Sapphire? My God.' Her aunt had stared at her. 'Wasn't he wearing it when you—?'
'I don't know!' Lina's voice quavered upwards and she caught her herself before it became a shriek. 'I wasn't looking at his rings.
'I heard them talking outside. They said the ring was not in the room, not in the safe nor the jewel box. The butler said Sir Humphrey had been wearing it when I arrived. Mr Tolhurst sent a footman to Bow Street, to the magistrates.' She was gabbling with anxiety, but she could not seem to steady herself.
'He said I would be taken up for theft, that I must...
About the Author-
Louise Allen has been immersing herself in history for as long as she can remember. She finds landscapes and places evoke powerful images of the past - Venice, Burgundy and the Greek islands are favourite destinations. Louise lives on the Norfolk coast. She spends her spare time gardening, researching family history or travelling in search of inspiration. Please visit Louise's website -- www.louiseallenregency.co.uk, or find her on Twitter @LouiseRegency and on Facebook.
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Harlequin
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