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Eaters of the Dead Black City (Black City #1)

You guys have been spending a lot of time together. Has he finally taken a submissive?

She’d known there was the possibility that George might be in London. When she’d taken the position with the Pleinsworths, it had been under the assumption that she would remain in Dorset year round. Lady Pleinsworth would take Sarah to town for the season, and the three younger girls would spend the summer in the country with their governess and nurse. And father, of course. Lord Pleinsworth never left the country. He was far more interested in his hounds than he’d ever been in people, which suited Anne just fine. If he wasn’t absent, he was distracted, and it was almost as if she were working in an al-female household.Which was wonderful.

Meant to Be (The Saving Angels #1)

But then Lady Pleinsworth had decided she couldn’t do without all of her daughters, and while Lord Pleinsworth pondered his bassets and bloods, the household packed up and departed for London. Anne had spent the entire trip reassuring herself that even if George did come to town they would never cross paths. It was a big city. The largest in Europe. Maybe the world. George might have married the daughter of a viscount, but the Chervils did not move in the same lofty circles as the Pleinsworths or Smythe-Smiths. And even if they did find themselves at the same event, Anne certainly would not be in attendance. She was just the governess. The hopefuly invisible governess.still, it was a danger. If Charlotte’s gossip was true, George received a generous alowance from his wife’s father. He had more than enough money to pay for a season in town. Maybe even enough to buy his way into a few of the top social circles.He’d always said he liked the excitement of the city. She remembered that about him. She’d managed to forget many things, but that she remembered. That, along with a young girl’s dream of promenading in Hyde Park on her handsome husband’s arm.

Practical Magic

She sighed, mourning the young girl but not her foolish dream. What an idiot she had been. What an abysmal judge of character.Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable? Lord Winstead asked quietly. He had not spoken for some time. She liked that about him. He was an affable man, easy in conversation, but he seemed to know when not to speak.

She shook her head, not quite looking at him. She wasn’t trying to avoid him. Wel, not him specificaly. She would have avoided anyone at that moment. But then he moved. It was just a small thing, realy, but she felt the seat cushion adjusting beneath them, and it was enough to remind her that he had rescued her this afternoon. He had seen her distress and saved her without so much as a question until they’d reached the carriage.

He deserved her thanks. It did not matter if her hands were still trembling or her mind was still racing with every dreadful possibility. Lord Winstead would never know just how much he had helped her, or even how much she appreciated it, but she could, at least, say thank you.But then, when they’d danced . . .

It had been magic. He would have sworn she’d felt it, too. The rest of the world had simply fallen away. It had been just the two of them amidst a blur of color and sound, and she hadn’t stepped on his feet even once.Which was truly a feat in and of itself.

Upon the Midnight Clear (Dark-Hunter #12)

But maybe he’d been imagining it. Or maybe it had simply been a one-sided emotion. Because when the music had stopped, she had been short, and curt, and even though she had said she did not feel well, she’d refused all his offers of assistance.He would never understand women. He’d thought she might be the exception, but apparently not. And he’d spent the last three days trying to figure out why.

In the end, however, he’d realized he could not miss the musicale. It was, as Honoria had explained so eloquently, tradition. He had attended every one since he’d been of an age to be in London on his own, and if he did not attend after claiming it was the very reason he’d come back to London so quickly after his illness, Honoria would see it as a slap in the face.He could not do that. It did not matter that she had been angry with him. It did not matter that he was angry with her, and he thought he had every right to be. She’d behaved in a most strange and hostile manner and had not given him any indication why.

She was his friend. Even if she never loved him, she would always be his friend. And he could no more hurt her deliberately than he could slice off his right hand.He might have fallen in love with her only recently, but he had known her for fifteen years. Fifteen years to know what sort of heart beat within her. He was not going to revise his opinion of her because of a single, odd night.

He made his way to the music room, which was a hive of activity as the servants readied for the upcoming performance. He really just wanted to catch a glimpse of Honoria, perhaps offer a few words of encouragement before the concert.Hell, he thought he needed encouragement. It was going to be painful to sit there and watch her put on the performance of her life just to please her family.

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