By Cecilia Grant
A seductive attractiveness turns the tables on a gentleman gaming for the guiltiest of pleasures during this wealthy and sensual Regency romance from cherished newcomer Cecilia Grant.
Lydia Slaughter is aware the video games males play—both out and in of the bed room. now not afraid to bend the principles to fit her wishes, she fleeces Will Blackshear outright. The Waterloo hero had his personal bold time table for the gaming tables of London’s gentlemen’s golf equipment. yet now he antes up for a bet of wits and wish with Lydia, the streetwise temptress who retains him at arm’s length.
A stored girl in determined straits, Lydia has a pointy brain and a head for numbers. She gambles at the sly, hoping to win sufficient to say her independence. An alliance with Will on the tables could be a profitable proposition for them either. however the association includes dicey odds with emerging stakes, sweetened with unstated promise of fleshly delights. And any sleight of hand may locate their hearts making a bet on whatever neither can have enough money to threat: love.
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Unique ebook: 2009
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Extra resources for A Gentleman Undone (Blackshear Family, Book 2)
She wished desperately that she could have read his letter ﬁrst, but Blythe was not a little girl to be so protected. And yet . . they had always shared so much. Surely Blythe was ready to discuss the letter’s contents—and the writer. She slipped out into the dark stone corridor, carrying a candle to lighten the gloom. Crossing to Blythe’s door, she knocked softly and entered when her sister bade her to. Blythe was sitting up in her four-poster bed that was hung with delicate fabrics and decorated with endless pillows.
But when she turned around, Sir Alexander was gone. That evening Emmeline stood alone in her bed chamber, surrounded by the books and maps she so loved, and felt disquieted, restless. This situa tion with Sir Alexander had upset her ordered world. She wished desperately that she could have read his letter ﬁrst, but Blythe was not a little girl to be so protected. And yet . . they had always shared so much. Surely Blythe was ready to discuss the letter’s contents—and the writer. She slipped out into the dark stone corridor, carrying a candle to lighten the gloom.
He teased. “Lord Thornton is on the island, sir, but surely ye knew that. ” She bobbed again, and her linen cap dipped to ward her eyes. ” She almost scurried before him, as if he would trample on her heels. When they entered the with drawing chamber, he came up short. Sitting on a high-backed bench beside his HIS SCANDAL 39 mother was Lady Emmeline Prescott, dressed in a dark blue serviceable gown with ﬁne, delicate lace at her throat. She was more than amply curved in all the usual places; in fact, she was downright lush—though he could tell she tried to tame her ﬁgure into submission with the usual feminine contraptions.