Scandal in Spring (The Wallflowers, Book 4)
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After spending three London seasons searching for a husband, Daisy Bowman’s father has told her in no uncertain terms that she must find a husband. Now. And if Daisy can’t snare an appropriate suitor, she will marry the man he chooses — the ruthless and aloof Matthew Swift. Daisy is horrified. A Bowman never admits defeat, and she decides to do whatever it takes to marry someone…anyone…other than Matthew. But she doesn’t count on Matthew’s unexpected charm…or the blazing sensuality that soon flares beyond both their control. And Daisy discovers that the man she has always hated just might turn out to be the man of her dreams. But right at the moment of sweet surrender, a scandalous secret is uncovered…one that could destroy both Matthew and a love more passionate and irresistible than Daisy’s wildest fantasies.
prize of all, Lord Westcliff, whose pedigree was pure gold. The earl had been a handsome acquisition for the family. But now Bowman was impatient to return to America. If Daisy were going to land a titled husband she would have done so by now. Time to cut their losses. Reflecting on his five children, Bowman wondered how it was that they should have so little of him in them. He and Mercedes were both driven, and yet they had produced three sons who were so placid, so accepting of things as they
fuss just because he’s American and therefore a novelty,” Lillian muttered. “If any of my brothers were here, those ladies would forget all about Mr. Swift.” Although Daisy would have liked to agree, she was fairly certain that their brothers would not have the same effect as Mr. Swift. For all that they were heirs to a great fortune, the Bowman brothers did not have Swift’s carefully cultivated social finesse. “He’s looking over here,” Annabelle reported. Anxiety lent subtle tension to her
hands. “No good,” she said tersely. “I can see nothing. I will give your shilling back.” “No need,” Daisy replied in bemusement. “It’s not your fault if my spirit is opaque.” Matthew’s voice was so dry one could light a match off it. “We’ll be just as happy if you’d make up something,” he told the woman. “She can’t make up something,” Daisy protested. “That would be abusing her gift.” Studying the fortune-teller’s corrugated features, Daisy thought she seemed sincerely disgruntled. She must
but Matthew had already moved in front of Lillian, protecting her from Waring’s wrath. “Mr. Waring,” Daisy said in the tumult, “please collect yourself. Surely you can see that you’re doing your own cause no good with this behavior.” Her calm lucidity seemed to reach through his fury. Waring gave Daisy an oddly beseeching stare. “My son is dead. Phaelan is to blame.” “This won’t bring him back,” she said quietly. “It won’t serve his memory.” “It will bring me peace,” Waring cried. Daisy’s
vision would disappear, Daisy was as still as death. Her eyes stung and watered but she kept them open, willing him to stay. He approached her with great care. Sinking to his haunches, he contemplated her with immeasurable tenderness and concern. One of his big hands moved, shoving aside some of the books until the space between their bodies was clear. “It’s me, love,” he said softly. “Everything’s all right.” Daisy managed to whisper through dry lips. “If you’re a ghost…I hope you haunt me