At the Bride Hunt Ball
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To Snare a Bride . . .
To Gabriel Devine, Duke of Wolverest, the bonds of marriage are nothing more than shackles. But if he's to remain a lifelong bachelor, that leaves only his younger brother to carry on the family name. Inviting the ton's most eligible ladies to an elegant ball, Gabriel is certain any one of them would be all too eager to become the next duchess and provide an heir—leaving Gabriel to continue his ecstatic pursuit of pleasure.
To Catch a Rogue . . .
Her social-climbing stepmother would give anything to have Madelyn Haywood betrothed to a future duke. But Madelyn believes the brothers Devine to be nothing more than heartless rogues—especially Gabriel, whose rakish reputation precedes him. He is nothing more than a slave to passion, and she will not be conquered by his caresses—and yet his wicked ways tempt her so . . .
could I,” he said quietly, giving her hand that was held within his a gentle squeeze. “I had planned to capture your attention privately before—” “Before what?” Madelyn asked, struggling to keep her own voice low. “Before I could humiliate myself?” “I dare say,” he said with a dark look, “you seem to be doing a fine job all by yourself.” “You mock me.” She whispered the words, but they still held the heat of censure. Looking at their joined hands, she pulled hers from his hold. She shot him
shrugged. “You can’t get out. And obviously, no one can get in, unless they have the key.” Throwing a hand to her throat, Charlotte gasped with masked delight. “Even his own sister believes Lord Tristan would ravish us in our very beds!” “Exactly,” Priscilla agreed. “Lady Rosalind assured us there was only one key for each room. And more importantly, my lady has informed all the chaperones that anyone caught outside their bedchamber without proper escort after midnight will be swiftly
her lips. But he suspected he wouldn’t be able to stop there. “May I ask what you were trying to do?” he asked instead, the tone of his voice just above a throaty growl. “The…ah…archery lesson,” she said softly. “It’s starting. I—I was late and my stepmother must have accidentally locked me in my room.” He glanced at the dangling sheet. “You must have really wanted to go.” His comment brought her gaze back up to connect with his. Pressing his lips together, he fought valiantly to keep from
ever offer her. She deserved, he hated to admit, better than his impetuous brother. He sat at his desk, opening a ledger his estate manager had left out for him. Thinking to look over his projected expense for an annual town fete he sponsored, he soon gazed up, knowing his chance at concentration was lost. Rubbing his brow, he ordered himself to stay detached, no matter how badly he craved more of Miss Haywood and her ill-fitted gowns. Madelyn loved to snoop. It came naturally to her, which was
with that her stepmother swept from the room in a rustle of gray bombazine. Standing, Madelyn was just about to stride over to the French doors overlooking a small garden and lily pond when the sound of swishing fabric came from the hall. “Good afternoon, Madelyn,” Rosalind said, her round blue eyes filled with guarded concern. Looking beautiful in a pink muslin dress and matching velvet bonnet, Gabriel’s sister crossed the room and took Madelyn’s hands into her own. “Good afternoon,” Madelyn