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November 2010

 

 

Can a Christmas adventure rekindle long-lost love?

Harlequin

Release Date: November 2010

ISBN: 9780373296156

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Mary Bassington, the widowed Lady Derrington, thought she left her girlhood infatuation with Dominick Amesby behind long ago—until she meets him again and finds their feelings are as strong, and as impossible, as ever.  But he’s the only one who can help her when her sister scandalously elopes with his cousin—right in the middle of Christmas…

Mary stood on the doorstep of the narrow townhouse, shivering despite her thick wool pelisse and the veil on her velvet bonnet.  Was this the right place?  She had double-checked the address, but it seemed quite deserted with all the shutters drawn and no smoke from the chimneys.

She glanced down the street, the gray day hazy through that veil.  It, too, was quiet, if respectable enough.  For a moment she regretted dismissing the carriage and walking here, after calling on the Quickleys, but she didn’t want anyone to know where she was.

Perhaps it was better no one was here anyway.

But as she turned away, the door suddenly swung open.  It was no butler or footman who stood there; it was Dominick himself.

She had obviously interrupted him in a private hour, for he wore no coat, just a brocade waistcoat unfastened over his shirt, his cravat loosened.  His golden hair was rumpled, a wave of it falling over his brow.  His expression looked as stunned as she felt.

“I beg your pardon…”  His words choked off as she raised her veil to reveal her face.

“My sister has run off with your cousin,” she blurted out.  “I need help.”

Dominick’s lips pressed together in a tight line, a muscle flexing along his strong jaw.  “You had better come in, then.”

Mary nodded and stepped into the house, her hands clutched inside her sable muff.  As he shut the door behind her, she had the wild urge to flee, as if by leaving she could outrun all her reawakened, confused feelings for him.  He was the only one who could help her now, though.

And, if she was honest with herself, she did not really want to leave.

“I’m sorry, but I gave the servants the evening off,” he said, “so it’s a bit desolate at the moment.  Come with me, it’s warmer in the library.”

He strode down a narrow corridor, buttoning his waistcoat and smoothing back his hair.  The gold signet ring on his finger gleamed in the dim light.  Well, Mary thought, in for a penny, in for a pound, as her nanny used to say when she was a child.  She followed him.

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