By Mary Balogh
Beloved New York occasions bestselling writer Mary Balogh spins vintage tales of Regency England—splendid novels of flawed identification and unmistakable ardour, the place marriage is simply the start of actual love.
THE recognized HEROINE
Cora Downes has good looks, spirit, and funds, yet no breeding. but while she earnings renown for a bold rescue, she unearths herself thrust into excessive society. blameless and adrift in a global of gorgeous banquets, bejeweled robes, and snobbish criteria, Cora is instantly compromised right into a marriage—to a frivolous lord whose pursuits appear to lie somewhere else. yet may piercingly blue-eyed and well-mannered Francis Kneller turn into the main unforeseen love of her life?
THE PLUMED BONNET
Alistair Munro, the Duke of Bridgwater, is seeking love outdoor the boundaries of well mannered society. And that’s what he expects to obtain while he rescues a likely disreputable lady in a colourful bonnet off the aspect of the line. but Stephanie grey, a former governess, has lately come into funds and is raring for a formal fit with a well-born guy. certain that he’s sullied her identify, Alistair bargains marriage to make amends. And during this not going union, Stephanie and Alistair make a welcome discovery—that occasionally it’s attainable to marry first, then fall in love.
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Extra info for The Plumed Bonnet
Munro pursed his lips. "Let me guess," he said. "You inherit from your grandfather only on condition that you marry within six months of his death. " How had he guessed? She nodded. " he asked, his voice quietly sympathetic. " "I do not know him," she said. "I know none of Mama's family. But I doubt he is wicked. Very few people are in reality, you know. Only in fairy tales or Gothic stories. " "But usually one of the two predominates," he said, smiling and revealing himself as a man who was purely handsome with the layers of aloof pride stripped away.
A passenger was pulling down the window on the side closest to her. A hand, expensively gloved in cream leather, rested on top of it. Someone leaned forward to look at her as she approached. A man. He had a haughty, bored, handsome face topped by thick, carefully disheveled brown hair. His voice, when he spoke, matched his expression. "A bird of bright plumage painting the landscape gay," he said. " Had she not been feeling so weary and so hungry, not to mention footsore and dusty and frightened—and embarrassed, she might have answered tartly.
Perhaps he thought that when she had spoken in the carriage about repayment for his generosity, she had meant… "No," she said. The word came out as a thin, wavering whisper of sound. It did not sound at all convincing even to her own ears. " His haughty, rather cold look was back. One of his arms, she realized, was about her waist, and her waist and her abdomen were pressed to him. He seemed alarmingly muscular and masculine. And yet she was not frightened—not of him—only distressed by the misunderstanding that she had caused, or that the chambermaid had caused.
The Plumed Bonnet by Mary Balogh