Utterly engaging and fun to read, this book is a lovely trek to a happily ever after.
Gaele The Jeep Diva
Enjoy an excerpt:
With a swish of her ice-blue net gown worn over white satin, she hurried away, leaving Mrs. Pinkerton peering after her through her lorgnette. It was an appalling lack of decorum, and Althea was sure her ears were burning. A moment later, she had forgotten the ladies entirely, for Montsimon, a determined expression in his gray eyes, made his way steadily through the guests in her direction. She could not talk to him now. Heart thudding, she searched around her for anyone free to engage in conversation, but those close by were so deep in discussion it would be rude to interrupt.
“Lady Brookwood.” Montsimon bowed before her. There was nothing for it.
“Lord Montsimon.” She curtsied. It was extraordinary. Simply because she’d considered a possible affair with him, it had become difficult to meet his eyes, made bluer tonight by the coat he wore.
“I didn’t expect to find you in London,” he said in his pleasant tenor voice. “I believe your intention was to remain in the country until spring.”
“That was my aim,” she said, “but important matters have brought me back to town.”
A waiter approached. Montsimon took two glasses of wine from his tray and offered her one. Althea accepted it with a nod of thanks. She sipped the cold fruity wine, glad to find it lubricated her tight throat.
“Dreadfully crowded,” Montsimon said, bending his head closer to hers.
“The Gossards’ affairs are always a great success. Does your dog wait for you at home tonight?”
“No, he’s guarding my carriage,” Montsimon said with a glint of humor.
“Is he a good guard dog?” Her gaze swept the room again, searching for Lord Churton without success.
“Spot is very thorough. Even my friends are barred from the vehicle.” Montsimon frowned. “But something disturbs you this evening, Lady Brookwood. May I help?”
“You must pardon me, my lord.” She took a step away. “There’s someone I must speak to, but I can’t seem to locate them in this crowd.”
He followed, bringing them close again. “Who might that be?”
“It’s Lord Churton. Have you seen him?”
The expression in Montsimon’s eyes sharpened. Without explanation, he removed her wine glass, which was still half-full, from her nerveless fingers. Conscious of those around them, she murmured a surprised protest. He placed her glass with his on a console table against the wall. “Shall we take a stroll on the terrace?”
Maggi Andersen, What a Rake Wants, Regency, Historical Romance, Spies.