Eleven Scandals to Start to Win a Duke's Heart (Love By Numbers)
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Sarah MacLean is a rapidly rising historical romance superstar, already rocketing to the stellar heights of Julia Quinn and Suzanne Enoch. She burst onto the New York Times bestseller list with her enchanting debut novel, Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake—and with her third wonderful Regency Era romp, Eleven Scandals to Start to Win a Duke’s Heart, the divine Sarah solidifies her position as a romance writer to watch…and to read! The story of an impulsive and rebellious English miss, the source of endless society gossip, with improper intentions towards a handsome British lord who abhors even the hint of scandal, MacLean’s Eleven Scandals to Start to Win a Duke’s Heart is a pure, unadulterated delight!
Georgiana smiled. “And I will be, in time. But not in the way you had planned.” The irony of the situation was not lost on him. She was sister to one of the most powerful men in England. And still, with all his concern for reputation and honor, he could not change the course of her life. He could not restore her reputation or stop the gossip that would eventually find her—find them all—but he could give her his support. And he could give her his love. “Georgiana,” he said, his words thick with
was the very best of ducal wives; that her duke happened to be mad about her was a happy coincidence. Lasting love was not something with which Juliana was familiar. She was the product of a match devised from fleeting infatuation. Her mother had bewitched her father, from what Juliana could tell, and had deserted them both when she became tired of domesticity. Juliana’s father had never remarried, though he’d had several opportunities to do so—she had always thought that he’d made the most
instinctively toward her, wanting to hold the little creature who did not know enough to see his flaws. He was beside her in seconds, thankful for the odd lack of servants at the Park. In any other house, the niece of a duke would be surrounded by nurses and nannies, but here, she was alone at times, giving her uncle a chance to be near her without an audience. He lifted her once more into his arms, hoping that the contact was enough for her to settle and return to sleep. Caroline had other
nail scrape along the brim, wondered how that finger would feel scraping along his neck . . . his shoulders . . . down his torso . . . He grew instantly hard and shifted, thankful for the darkness, but did not look away, fascinated by the way she stroked the hat. Finally, when he could not bear watching her fondle the headpiece a moment longer, he drew a pouch of coins from his pocket and said to the shopkeeper, “I should like to buy the bonnet for the lady.” Her eyes grew wide. “You cannot.”
Simon . . . I did not know that you had such reason to be so concerned for propriety and reputation. Had I known . . .” She trailed off, looking over his shoulder at the bonfire, as though looking at him might be too painful. And then she whispered, “Had I known, I never would have made the silly challenge. I never would have pushed you so far.” The words were so soft, if the breeze had been blowing in another direction, he would not have heard them. Would not have heard the sadness in them. “I