Three Nights With a Scoundrel by Tessa Dare

Author:Tessa Dare [Dare, Tessa]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Tags: Historical Romance, Adult, Romantic Suspense, Action Adventure Mystery & Detective
ISBN: 9780091948849
Amazon: 0091948843
Barnesnoble: 0091948843
Goodreads: 7099393
Publisher: Ebury Press
Published: 2009-12-31T11:00:00+00:00

“‘Dear Lily, as promised, I have learned the list of dances for Lord and Lady Ainsley’s assembly. I have also taken the liberty of engaging your partners in advance.’” She muttered to herself, “Yes, a liberty indeed. How very generous of you, Julian.” She returned to the letter. “‘As for the contents of the package, I trust you will know for whom they are intended. For fear of offending propriety, I dare not send the gift direct.’”

Now this was a true mystery. What could he mean? Lily untied the twine binding the package and removed the top of the box. In it, she found a cloud of white tissue and a small note card that read, With apologies. No ermine was in stock.

She lifted from the box a heavy winter cloak. The black wool was of the finest quality, soft as kit-tens to the touch. The entire garment was lined in velvet, and the collar was edged with sable. It was a cloak fit for—not a queen, perhaps, but a well-heeled member of her court—and its proportions were far and away too large for Lily’s frame.

Smiling to herself, she flung the cloak over her arms and went in search of her housekeeper.

“Holling,” she sang out down the corridor. “I believe you have an admirer.”

Three Nights with a Scoundrel: A Novel

Chapter Fourteen

Julian prepared for the ball in the same way a pugilist prepared for a prizefight. He rested well, ate well, marshaled his powers of concentration. He readied his jabs and his evasive maneuvers.

Tonight was the night he learned the truth—the truth of his enemy, the truth of Leo’s death. Anticipation resonated in his bones. By God, he was ready to deal some blows.

But first, there would be dancing. Merriment before the fall. By the time he arrived at Lord and La-dy Ainsley’s assembly (late, of course; it would not do to be punctual), he’d amassed a long mental list of activities designed to help him avoid standing about, gawping at Lily.

The problem was, he had a difficult time finding any gamblers eager for a brisk game of dice, or gentlemen desiring a good, lengthy chat on the aesthetic merits of Covent Garden’s newest Parisian actress. Because, it seemed, every other man at the assembly was perfectly happy to stand about, gawping at Lily.

Within five minutes of entering the assembly rooms, Julian admitted defeat and joined them.

She looked astoundingly well tonight. To Julian, she looked well every night, but on this particular occasion, she’d attained a new pinnacle of elegance. Her gown of shimmering bronze moiré wasn’t the most au courant, nor the most expensive in the room. The simple upsweep of her dark, thick locks wasn’t a new or innovative coiffure. And she did have a few true contenders for the honor of loveliest lady in attendance. But those ladies could go stew in their own beauty. All eyes were on Lily, and her name was on every tongue. In the gentlemen, she inspired open admiration. In the ladies, she inspired rumor and envy.

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