And the Miss Ran Away With the Rake (Rhymes with Love, Book 2)
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Sensible gentleman of means seeks a sensiblelady of good breeding for correspondence, and indue consideration, matrimony. Which is exactly the sort of advertisement that makespractical-to-a-fault Daphne Dale's heart flutter. A sensiblegentleman, in her estimation, is the perfect match,and she's even more convinced once she's exchanging sensiblyromantic letters with her very appropriate suitor. That is,until Lord Henry Seldon strays into her path. He's everythingshe's vowed to avoid—a rakish charmer whose verytouch seduces her practical sensibilities and her resolve.Lord Henry Seldon was not amused when his nephewplaced an advertisement to find him a wife. Yet he couldn'tresist replying to the note from "Miss Spooner." And oncehe discovers he's corresponding with none other thanthe disarming Daphne Dale, he finds it's too late to disavowhis heart. Now it is up to Henry to prove to Daphne just howinsensible—and powerfully passionate—true love can be . . .
her. And then she had replied in kind. And so the exchange had gone on for the last month, all anonymous and mysterious and most likely beyond the pale and ruinous if anyone discovered the truth. Certainly if Lady Essex found out that such a scandalous correspondence had been carried out right under her nose, the only notes Daphne would be composing would be answering the messages of condolences for Lady Essex’s fatal heart ailment. “Do you think he’s here yet?” Tabitha asked, looking around
scandalous as they say?” “I do believe Preston was under the impression that was how he ought to behave—not how he truly is.” “So I am beginning to see,” she admitted. “Still, you don’t approve.” “Tabitha’s engagement to Preston took us all by surprise,” she said. “It was just so sudden, so . . .” “You are being diplomatic,” he said, folding his hands behind his back. “Yes, well, as a Dale—” “Yes, yes, say no more—” “No, I must. You mistake me,” she said. “While of course I can hardly
every intention of gathering her up in his arms and running away with this tempting miss, but Lord Henry Seldon had yet to master one very important part of being a rake: timing. “Finally! Someone to help me find the dining room,” came Zillah’s booming voice from behind him. “Confounded place gets me lost every time.” Then out from behind Henry stepped Miss Dale. And from the look on his great-aunt’s face, Henry sent up a prayer that the lady didn’t know the way to the armory any better than
clad only in her chemise. Daphne whirled around and put her back to the painting. “You devil!” she scolded over her shoulder. Oh, good heavens, what was wrong with her? She was going mad if she was talking to paintings. Stealing a glance over her shoulder, she found the duke still grinning at her, but all she saw was Lord Henry’s face—as he’d held her tonight in the shadowed hallway and looked to be about to tell her something. No, rather, show her something. Well, the seventh duke would
even know if he lived, and she doubted Crispin cared that he might have committed murder. “He’ll come and save me,” she insisted. “He can try,” was all Crispin would say in return. But by the fourth day, Daphne had no idea where Henry might be. She was exhausted and battered from being tossed about the carriage, furious beyond measure at Crispin’s high-handed ways, and wishing over and over she’d told Henry everything that beautiful afternoon beneath the oak tree. “Oh, Henry, come find me,”