Lady Isabella Winton waits years to marry her fiancé, but Lord Alexander Fitzroy, a reformed rake, always finds an excuse to delay the nuptials.
With the marriage set for the next month, Fitzroy tells her he is needed in Belgium almost immediately. He warns her it may be dangerous for her to accompany him.
Isabella suspects he is bluffing. Brussels is the centre of a social whirl. She looked forward elaborate dinners and extravagant balls. Fearing Fitzroy may have returned to his rakish ways, she insists on travelling with him.
Isabella is unaware that Lord Everard Ladness, heir to a dukedom, is obsessed with her and will go to any lengths to possess her.
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Meet the author:
I live in a Sussex village near to the Regency towns. Before writing a novel, I visit one of them to soak up the elegance of the architecture, trying to enter the atmosphere of those far-gone times. Whilst walking through narrow cobbled streets, I imagine horse drawn carriages rollicking past, of ladies in Empire fashion, of feathered bonnets and velvet pelisses, of nankeen breeches and starched cravats. Even today, the same bay fronted shop windows replete with mullioned windows yawn over narrow pavements. The only changes being the wares; an empire dress swapped for a top and miniskirt. Best of all, is stepping down rickety steps into an oak beamed tearoom, with a leaning floor, where log fires crackle in open grates, the air filled with the rich aroma of tansy and cinnamon cakes.
Katy has a BA(Hons)Psych, BA Eng.Lit and Creative Writing, MA. Hon Doc. for research into complementary methods of pain control.
‘I insist; I would love to purchase it for you.’
Isa hugged her. ‘I do not think Mrs. Wallis could cope with any more.’
‘Nonsense, she has so many seamstresses. I declare —’
‘But, the cost—’
‘Tush, papa is over generous with my allowance; he will not even notice it. Why I lose more at cards of an evening than I would pay for half a dozen dresses.’
Thrilled, Isa gave her a hug. ‘Well, I did have my eye on it.’
‘Well so it shall be. I shall order it from Mrs. Wallis. Now choose a flowered headdress – or what you will.’
As Henrietta made for the counter, Phillipa said, ‘I cannot match a Duke’s daughter, but I would love to buy you a pair of slippers and a bonnet.’
‘No, I insist, I will be most upset if you decline.’
Isa laughed. ‘My, I am being spoilt, when I leave here with all the boxes, papa will have an apoplexy. He’ll think he has to pay for it all.’
As the girls wandered around the enticing stands, they were unaware of a male observing them. Lord Everard Ladness, a rakehell licked his lips. He saw them nearing the dressing rooms. The Lady Isabella continually spurned him for that bastard Fitzroy. Well now he had the perfect opportunity; she was his, always had been; he’d marked her out for his wife when she was a mere child. Now she would be his.