Slightly Dangerous (Bedwyn Saga)
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
All of London is abuzz over the imminent arrival of Wulfric Bedwyn, the reclusive, cold-as-ice Duke of Bewcastle, at the most glittering social event of the season. Some whisper of a tragic love affair. Others say he is so aloof and passionless that not even the greatest beauty could capture his attention. But on this dazzling afternoon, one woman did catch the duke’s eye—and she was the only female in the room who wasn’t even trying. Christine Derrick is intrigued by the handsome duke…all the more so when he invites her to become his mistress.
What red-blooded woman wouldn’t enjoy a tumble in the bedsheets with a consummate lover—with no strings and no questions asked. An infuriating lady with very definite views on men, morals, and marriage, Christine confounds Wulfric at every turn. Yet even as the lone wolf of the Bedwyn clan vows to seduce her any way he can, something strange and wonderful is happening. Now for a man who thought he’d never lose his heart, nothing less than love will do.
With her trademark wit, riveting storytelling, and sizzling sexual sparks, Mary Balogh once again brings together two polar opposites: an irresistible, high-and-mighty aristocrat and the impulsive, pleasure-loving woman who shows him what true passion is all about. A man and a woman so wrong for each other, it can result only in the perfect match.
From the Hardcover edition.
sister have any dancing planned, Audrey? Or . . . what, then?” “The one who can engage his undivided attention for a whole hour,” Audrey suggested. “Believe me, that will be difficult enough to accomplish. And the winner—if there is a winner—will have earned her prize. An hour in the duke’s company would be akin to an hour sitting on the North Pole, I would imagine.” There was another flurry of giggles. But Sarah ignored the warning and looked with sparkling eyes at every member of the
were in evidence, at other acquaintances. Ah, he need not have been concerned. And then, when they were halfway out and the organ had reached a crescendo of the stately anthem, she pointed with one outstretched arm to the far corner of the church. “Oh, look, Wulfric,” she said aloud, “the children are here.” They were too—all the younger ones, with their nurses, close enough to the back that they might have been taken out if they had proved troublesome. “That’s Aunt Christine,” William said
and thanks to a mother who had never taken her to London or Bath or Brighton or any of the other places she herself had frequented. Angeline had entertained hopes of making her come-out at the age of seventeen, but before she could muster all her arguments and begin persuading and wheedling the persons who held her fate in their hands, her mother had died unexpectedly in London and there had been a whole year of mourning to be lived through at Acton. And then last year, when all had been set for
her and she scrambled to her feet, reluctant now to accept even the touch of his hand to help her up. But it was his coat he had come for. He bent and retrieved it from the ground, shook out the grass that clung to it, and put it back on. He looked, she thought then, as immaculate as he had appeared when she first caught sight of him in the ballroom. She clasped her arms behind her back as he turned to her, and he took the hint and led the way back to the path without offering his arm—or his
still thought so even when she arrived at St. George’s on Hanover Square and discovered that there were obviously going to be far more guests than just family. At least by then she had been clad in the smartest of her new clothes and was with Hermione and Basil and the boys. She had thought it right up to the moment when she had looked up to see who the gentleman was who was important enough to be seated in front of Viscount and Viscountess Elrick, cousins of the bride, and had realized that he