Présentation de l'éditeur
For fans of Julia Quinn, Eloisa James, and Sabrina Jeffries: the seductively charming second historical romance in Isabella Bradford’s Breconridge Brothers trilogy.
Lord Geoffrey Fitzroy leads a charmed existence. As the second son of the Duke of Breconridge, he has none of the responsibilities of his older brother and all of the advantages, leaving handsome Geoffrey free to enjoy his rakish pursuits. And pursue them he does, leaving hearts fluttering all over London. But one night, at a ball brimming with high society’s most sought-after beauties, only one truly intrigues him: the regal, aloof, and mysterious Miss Serena Carew.
Magnificently dressed and wearing jewels befitting a queen, the lady is considered the prize of the season: a noble-born heiress raised in India. But even as Geoffrey’s fascination grows, Serena deflects his curiosity—and with good reason. Serena’s exotic past contains a perilous secret that could destroy her. Yet her plan to live in safe solitude is thwarted by her hungry heart, and soon Geoffrey’s passionate seduction finds her blissfully bedded—and wed. Will her deception destroy her chance at happiness as Geoffrey’s wife? Or will the devotion of her new husband bring out the hidden truth of her undying love?
Extrait
Chapter 1
*
London
April 1771
He knew in an instant that she was different from every other woman in the ballroom.
Lord Geoffrey Fitzroy watched the lady as she paused in the arched doorway, a figure of perfect, self--contained calm beyond all the others, with their swirling spangled silks and too--bright laughter. She didn’t fidget or preen, the way women usually did while they were waiting to be announced to the company. She simply stood, and made standing look more elegantly fascinating than Geoffrey had ever dreamed possible.
“Who is that divine lady?” he asked his brother Harry, the Earl of Hargreave, who was beside him at the far end of the ballroom with the other gentlemen who’d rather drink than dance.
“Which lady?” Harry asked as he reached for a fresh glass of wine from the tray of a passing footman. “The room is filled with ladies.”
“The one in blue,” Geoffrey said, amazed that his brother needed more description. To him there was clearly only one lady among the scores in attendance who could be called divine, a term he had not used carelessly. Even at this distance, she was exceptionally beautiful, but not conventionally so, with pale skin and gleaming dark hair that she wore without powder. “There, in the doorway.”
“That’s Miss Serena Carew.” Harry turned toward Geoffrey, one brow raised with bemusement. “I cannot believe you don’t know her. Or rather, of her. No gentleman truly knows the distant Miss Serena Carew. None of us poor sots are worthy of her acquaintance.”
Geoffrey emptied his glass, setting it on a nearby sideboard. “Then that’s only because she has yet to know me,” he said confidently, smoothing his sleeves to spruce up his already-immaculate evening coat. “A lack I intend to remedy at once.”
“I thought you kept clear of unmarried ladies,” Harry said. “I recall you being quite firm on the subject of remaining a bachelor as long as was humanly possible.”
Geoffrey shrugged, his gaze still intent on the lady. “I’m not intending matrimony, Harry. I’m fully aware of how far I can go before her family begins demanding the banns be called. Exactly how far.”
“A moment, Geoffrey.” Harry took him by the arm to hold him back. “Take care with this one. You should know the lady’s story before you begin the chase. She’s old Allwyn’s granddaughter, and he guards her like a hawk with a favorite chick. That’s his sister, Lady Morley, with her now.”
“What of it?” Geoffrey smiled, nonchalant. It didn’t matter to him that she was the granddaughter of the Marquis of Allwyn, not when he himself was the son of the Duke of Breconridge. “That’s hardly enough to put me off.”
“There’s more,” Harry said. “Her father was
