The Governess Affair (The Brothers Sinister)
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The start of a critically acclaimed historical romance series by New York Times bestselling author Courtney Milan... Hugo Marshall earned the nickname "the Wolf of Clermont" for his ruthless ambition--a characteristic that has served him well, elevating the coal miner's son to the right hand man of a duke. When he's ordered to get rid of a pestering governess by fair means or foul, it's just another day at work. But after everything Miss Serena Barton has been through at the hands of his employer, she is determined to make him pay. She won't let anyone stop her--not even the man that all of London fears. They might call Hugo Marshall the Wolf of Clermont, but even wolves can be brought to heel...
heard from even this distance, with a pane of glass and fifty feet between them. They’d called her whore and slut, and those had hardly been the worst of the epithets hurled. He’d been halfway down the stairs to put an end to the riot when someone had thrown a rock. Somehow, the sight of her blood had been as effective at dispersing the crowd as a legion of constables wielding billyclubs. Hugo had few pretensions about his own morals. He’d done a number of things that didn’t skirt the
“You will be my protection from the world. And I…” She set her hand on his arm, and a prickle ran up his neck. “Legally, you’re obligated by my actions. Another woman might take advantage. You’ve trusted me not to thwart your ambition. Let me trust you with this, too.” Yes. He couldn’t make his lips form the word. He couldn’t even bring up his hands to touch her. Instead, he gripped the edge of the seat. “Have no hope of me, darling. I have none to give you.” “Liar.” Her voice shook, but her
began, “I want—” “Now,” he interrupted smoothly, “it’s time for me to redeem my pins.” He fixed her with a steady look. It was only a moment that he looked into her eyes—half a second, scarcely even long enough to blink—but already her pulse jumped in response. His smile broadened. Her skin tingled. She was aware of every inch of her skin—her shift scarcely covered her limbs; her corset bound her breasts tightly. She wasn’t sure if it was fear or arousal that had her so suddenly on edge. “My
her the truth. He had suffered through days that had made him doubt his mother’s stone. He brushed those memories away. “When I was older, she took an old pickle jar to the park. She told me to fill it with all the most important things. Then she buried it deep, deep, where my father couldn’t find it no matter what he did.” It had been drizzling, but he’d scarcely felt the wet. Do you have a jar, Mama? She’d smiled and shook her head. We should make one for you. Her smile had fixed in
strap, her gloves wrinkling under the ferocity of her grip, even though their conveyance scarcely swayed. When they arrived, he made no attempt to purchase passage for himself. Instead, Hugo stood back, pretending to busy himself with Serena’s trunk so that the sisters might speak. “Well.” Freddy peered around the crowded yard of the inn with a deeply suspicious look, frowning at the ostlers. “I suppose you have to thrust yourself out there, do you not?” She punctuated the end of this sentence