A Matter of Temptation (Lost Lords)
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The handsome duke whom Victoria married is more deliciously exciting than the cold-hearted rogue she was engaged to . . .
How could he possibly be the same man?
I was simply weak. A coward. John had no proof other than his word that it was me and not him.” And now Robert found himself in the same predicament. Reaching across the desk, she took his balled hand in hers and slowly unfurled his fingers. She kissed the center of his palm as though it was he who had been struck. He curled his fingers slightly so they would touch her cheek. “It was a harmless prank. I’m sure there were times when John pretended to be you,” she said. “I’m sure you’re right.
handsome. Not that she thought a gorgeous face was a quality to take into account when selecting a husband, but it certainly didn’t hurt matters that he was incredibly pleasing to gaze upon. He had the most astonishing blue eyes, and while they seldom sparkled with merriment, as he was a decidedly serious fellow, they did make her feel special when he gazed at her with such intensity that oftentimes she would blush beneath his scrutiny. He never revealed what he was thinking at times such as
glanced over her shoulder, and bid entry. The butler opened the door and stepped into the room. “I apologize for disturbing you, Your Grace, but the duke wishes a moment of your time in the library.” “He’s returned already? I wasn’t expecting him until nightfall.” She rose to her feet, wondering if he finished with his business at the village more quickly because he didn’t like being away from her any more than she liked his being away. “Tell him that I’ll be there in ten minutes.” “Yes,
bound hands and feet had grown as numb as his heart. He lay on his side, where he’d been unceremoniously dumped by his brother’s henchmen—how was it that John could always manage to find the dregs of society? At least there had been light at Pentonville. Now there was nothing but the bleak darkness of despair. Torie doubted him, and the pain of that doubt was like a finely honed sword stabbed through his heart. It had taken more strength than he’d known he possessed not to cry out his anguish
and perhaps that was a bit unfair, but Robert didn’t want to risk his brother calling out and rousing the servants. He doubted John would provide a truthful answer anyway. Yet the questions had haunted Robert for more than three thousand days: while he’d paced his cell, while he’d lain in his hammock, while he’d listened to the screams of men as they’d succumbed to insanity’s tantalizing promise of freedom. It was frightening how often he’d been tempted to give in to the siren’s call of madness