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By Anne Stuart

Longing for the downfall of Nicholas Blackthorne, the infamous rake whom she holds answerable for the lack of her advantage and her relations fortune, Ghislaine de Lorgny is all of sudden kidnapped through her such a lot hated enemy.

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Sample text

He sat alone in the gardens of Sans Doute, the elegant country estate of his godparents, and crumpled the letter in his large hand. There was a curious burning in his eyes, one that must have been occasioned by the brightness of the overcast sun. A similar ache hovered somewhere mid-chest, and he ascribed that to a surfeit of port with his godfather the night before. He sat alone, dry-eyed, and felt the first fiery tendrils of rage begin to rekindle inside him. It was there his godfather found him.

He'd been sent down from Cambridge, of course. It had taken him the better part of three years to accomplish that, but in the end he did, wasting the expensive education his martinet of a father had provided for him. It had been a close call. The problem was, he found he actually enjoyed scholarship. He'd been on the verge of some disastrous escapade, something guaranteed to blacken him in the eyes of all and sundry, when something would take his interest. And his interests were damnably wide. He studied the latest methods of agriculture, he studied the properties of electricity and the workings of the human body.

A. RA 10 987654321 England Chapter 1 April 1803 There were few places as still and silent as the kitchens of an English manor house after the servants had retired to their hall for the evening. Ghislaine sat alone in the darkness, watching the glow from the wall of ovens, her small, strong hands resting loosely in her lap. The huge chair dwarfed her slight frame, but the kitchen staff knew better than to suggest removing that chair. It was provided for her comfort, and the comfort of Lady Ellen Fitzwater's personal French chef was of the utmost importance.

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