From New York Times bestselling author Sabrina Jeffries, the deliciously sexy fourth book in the "Duke's Men" Regency romance series.
From New York Times bestselling author Sabrina Jeffries, the deliciously sexy fourth book in the "Duke's Men" Regency romance series-the first of which was called "a totally engaging, adventurous love story" (RT Book Reviews, Top Pick).
The heir presumptive to the Viscount Rathmoor, Dominick Manton once had his heart's desire within reach-a bright future as a barrister and engagement to Jane Vernon, a wealthy baron's daughter. Then a shattering betrayal by his vindictive brother George snatched away Dom's inheritance and his hopes of offering Jane a secure future. Brokenhearted, and attempting to end their engagement without destroying Jane's reputation, Dom staged a betrayal of his own to convince her that he's not the husband-to-be that she thought.
Now George is gone and the viscountcy restored to Dom, since his brother's widow, Nancy-Jane's cousin and closest confidant-never bore an heir. But when Nancy goes missing, a panicked Jane calls on her former fiancé to track down her cousin. Dom knows the mistakes of the past may be unforgiveable-but now, entangled together in mystery and danger, will they rekindle a passionate longing that was never lost to begin with?
If the Viscount Falls
Winborough Estate in Yorkshire
FOUR DAYS AFTER his arrival at Winborough's Whitsuntide house party, Dom rummaged through the drawers of the desk in his half brother's study. Where in blazes did Tristan keep his sealing wax? So far, Dom had found a penknife, some string, seventeen quills, a lint-clad lemon drop, a stack of foolscap, and a lacy garter, but no sign of wax.
He didn't even want to think about why the garter was in there. The thought of Tristan and Dom's new sister-in-law, Zoe, doing . . . whatever upon the desk made him feel like a Peeping Tom.
Just as Dom slammed the top drawer shut, he spotted the sealing wax, set neatly beside an inkpot atop the desk. Right there before his eyes, blast it all. Clearly he was losing his mind.
Dom dropped into the chair. It was all Jane's fault. Set to inherit the Rathmoor title now that George was dead, he ought to be concentrating on his return to Rathmoor Park today and his attempts to get it out of arrears. Instead, Jane consumed his thoughts.
It was ludicrous. They were nothing to each other now. Certainly, he was nothing to her. After more than twelve years unmarried, she'd finally gone and got herself engaged to Edwin Barlow, the newly minted Earl of Blakeborough.
She would soon be out of Dom's reach for good, and he couldn't change that. He didn't want to change it. That time of his life was gone forever, as well it should be. He was quite a bit older and wiser, not to mention rougher, and she was still an heiress. They had nothing in common. They were different people.
And perhaps if he said it enough, he would finally believe it. He had to believe it. He had to excise her from his mind somehow.
"Zoe wants to know if you intend to join us for services at their church in town."
He jerked his head up so quickly that he nearly knocked over the Argand lamp. "Blast it, Lisette, don't sneak up on me like that!"
With a toss of her black curls, his half sister approached the desk. "Don't blame me if your mind is in the clouds. I've been standing here waiting for you to notice me for a good five minutes while you muttered and cursed and scowled."
"Sorry. I'm a bit . . . distracted, is all."
She sniffed. "Is that what you call it? And here I thought you were merely rude."
"You were such a grump at the celebration yesterday! I don't even know why you bothered to drive the two hours over from the coast for the house party. Even Tristan noticed your foul mood, which takes some doing, since he only has eyes for Zoe."
Dom snorted. He would never have expected his half brother, of all people, to fall in love. Especially so spectacularly. "I'm surprised he and Zoe even remember we exist, given their billing and cooling." He narrowed his gaze on her. "Although you and Max are just as bad."
"Lord, I hope not. We're parents now; we have to show some decorum." She tucked a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. "Though it's difficult since Max likes me a little . . . indecorous."
"Good God, I don't even want to think about that," he said irritably. "Stop talking about all the ways Max likes you."
"Why? Because it makes you feel lonely?"
"Because you're my sister."
"It's your own fault you're lonely, you know," she said, ignoring his answer. "You've got Jane right under your nose at Rathmoor Park while she's staying with Nancy, and instead of taking advantage of that to court her, you're hiding over here at our brother's estate."
"I am not hiding," he said coolly, though perhaps he was
Über den Autor
Sabrina Jeffries has written two dozen novels under the names Deborah Martin, Deborah Nicholas, and Sabrina Jeffries. She lives with her husband and son in North Carolina.