Lord Appleton may be a bit of a rake but he’s never been one to lose his head at the gaming tables. Yet he loses everything on a night of which he has no memory. How will he dower his sisters? Where will they live when the vile man who bought his debts forces them from their house in Bath? Lord Appleton will do anything to reclaim their house and avoid hurting his family—even if it means having to marry a peculiar heiress.
When Miss Dorothea Pankhurst arrives in Bath with her ailing father—and the four cats she’s never without—she is ignorant of the ways of Society. Then the kindly Lord Appleton and his gracious sister take her under their wing. She’s immediately smitten with the handsome viscount and thrilled beyond measure when he asks for her hand in marriage.
After the murder of a young dealer at the gambling house where Appleton played, Dot and Appleton grow closer as they work together to find the killer. But they’re not fully aware of the sinister forces trying to pull them apart . . .
Genre: FICTION / Romance / RegencyNY Times bestseller, USA Today bestseller, Amazon All Star, Published historical romance author for 22 years with over 40 books
What a deuced pickle Alexander Beauclerc, the 11th Earl of Finchley, had gotten himself into. The higher he climbed the stairs to his Grandmere's drawing room, the lower he felt. Had he not sworn to that dear lady a mere ten weeks previously that he would curtail his attraction to high-stakes play? Yet here he was like an errant schoolboy, preparing to once again vow that he would change his wicked ways—while begging for a few hundred quid to tide him over to the next quarter.
He needn't tell her he owed every bit of it to Lord Bastingham because of a disastrous turn of bad luck. Nor need he tell her how many tradesmen were dunning him. Nor how he'd been forced to find new positions for his groom and coachman because he lacked funds to continue keeping horses.
Before Alex reached the landing, he passed the Romney of his late grandfather. His step slowed as his gaze raked over the old fellow. Alex was certain Grandpapa's eyes had been green, but the paint had darkened over the years to a murky brown. From beneath the elderly man's prim white wig and bushy gray brows, those dark eyes seemed to be glowering at his grandson. A shudder rippled down Alex's spine, and he looked away.
Good lord, even the dead must know about Alex's rakish ways.
A few moments later he threw open the doors to Grandmere's drawing room. Seated upon a sofa, a slant-top portable desk balanced on her lap, she was scribbling on paper, then she looked up at him with a twinkling gaze.
| Language | Status |
|---|---|
|
Italian
|
Already translated.
Translated by Eugenia Franzoni
|
|
Portuguese
|
Already translated.
Translated by Tânia Nezio
|
