By Caroline Linden
Douglas Bennet can’t face up to a very good bet, in particular now not person who comprises a stunning lady. while a chum proposes an audacious plan to show the main infamous lady in England, Douglas is of the same opinion immediately. in any case, it might be fairly a coup to find the real identification of girl Constance, writer of the notorious erotic serial scandalizing the *ton*, *50 how you can Sin*.
Madeline Wilde is used to being pursued. For years she’s cultivated a name for being inconceivable and mysterious, and for sturdy cause: her livelihood relies on discretion. while Douglas turns his mythical attraction on her, she dismisses him as simply one other rake. yet he surprises her—instead of in basic terms attempting to seduce her, he turns into her friend…her confidant…and her lover. yet can it particularly result in happily-ever-after…or are they approximately to develop into the largest scandal London has ever seen?
Read or Download All's Fair in Love and Scandal (Scandalous, Book 2.5) PDF
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Extra info for All's Fair in Love and Scandal (Scandalous, Book 2.5)
Like the other men, Guthlac and Hrothgar were wearing their arms; indeed, Hrothgar sat so close to Lady Erica that Wulf wouldn't be surprised to learn that the scabbard of his dagger was digging into her side. The only men not wearing arms were the lady's housecarls. They were glowering from a side-table, under guard but uncowed. Their eyes barely left their mistress for a moment, as if by watching her they could protect her. Wulf followed their gaze, even though looking at her made him uneasy.
Perhaps, if he were lucky, he would be granted a commission in those southern lands so recently acquired. Two days, Wulf thought, for two interminable days he had been whiling away the time here, kicking his heels while the commanders discussed tactics and jostled for power and position. A lock of dark hair fell over Wulf's eyes; impatiently, he shoved it back. He must get his hair trimmed, it had grown so much he looked more Saxon than Norman, and the last thing he wanted was for the lord of Lewes to think he was favouring the Saxon half of his heritage.
The portcullis creaked, and Lady Erica of Whitecliffe appeared under the arch. Her two companions stationed themselves either side of her. Gowned in purple beneath her russet cloak, she was tall and dignified, composedly nodding her agreement while her companions were divested of their arms. Men in their late twenties, housecarls by the look of them, Saxon warriors who handed their swords over to Maldred without a murmur. But they did not like it; their eyes and their stance betrayed them. Guthlac Stigandson swept the woman a mocking bow.