The Love List by Deb Marlowe - Half Moon House 01 - The Love List

Author:Deb Marlowe - Half Moon House 01 - The Love List [Marlowe, Deb]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Romance, regency adventure, romance adventure, Regency Romance, romance historical romance, deb marlowe, Romance, regency historical, Regency, Historical
ISBN: 1483912345
Google: tbYgmwEACAAJ
Amazon: B00CENJBJ2
Goodreads: 17734663
Publisher: Deb Marlowe
Published: 2013-03-26T16:00:00+00:00

“Flowers, sir?”

“No. Thank you.” Aldmere shook his head at the girl in the threadbare cloak and carefully eased his cabriolet into Hungerford Market. At midday the pace of the place had slowed. The smell of the river, so close, hung heavy in the air, as vendors, desperate to make a late sale, called in strident tones. The scant few shoppers they hoped to attract held their purses tight as they dickered for bargains on fish beginning to turn and vegetables wilting in the sun.

He could detect no sign of Brynne Wilmott, but then, he was early. Sighing, he glanced up at the niche on the northern side of the dilapidated market building. “I’m a fool,” he said to the besmirched and bewigged bust of Sir Edward Hungerford.

He was eager to start the day’s adventure, eager to find Tru. But only to Sir Edward would he admit that for the first time in years, he’d almost eagerly, certainly voluntarily, let someone close. He’d taken on a burden once again, pledged himself to guard Brynne Wilmott’s welfare, and all for a pair of odd green eyes and mouth that begged silently for his kiss.

“Sir? Flowers?”

“No,” he repeated irritably. He glanced down. The girl had squeezed between his rig and an empty, unhitched cart. The armful of tulips she extended toward him was a bright incongruity next to the urgency in her wide gaze.

“Please, sir. For your lady.”

He paused, distracted by the thickness of her accent. Not the street patter one would expect, but a rich, Eastern inflection. “You should move away,” he said. “My cattle are calm now, but if something should spook them, you could be hurt.”

She ignored his advice. “Please. My name, she’s Yelena. I would speak with you.” Her gaze pleaded with him. “Yes?”

He looked closer. She wore a plain gown beneath the tattered cloak, but it looked to be constructed of quality fabric.

“You are the very fine duke, no? I would speak of your brother.”

Immediately he reached for her. “Come up,” he ordered.

“No!” Panicked, she glanced around. “You buy my flowers? And we are not seen.”

“Fine.” With slow movements he reached for his purse. “Talk.”

“I come with a warning. You will tell Lord Truitt? He must be very careful. Leaving this city, it would be better.”

“Why?” Deliberately he dropped the purse to the floorboards. “What is it you know?” He narrowed his gaze as he bent down. “Do you know where Tru is?”

“No, but men look for him.” Her expression paled. “Very dangerous men, sent by an angry nobleman.”

“Marstoke?” he asked.

Her hand trembled as she reached for the coin he offered. “Yes! He is hearing things and it is putting him in a madness.” She looked up. “You will tell Lord Truitt to go?”

Aldmere reached for the flowers. Under the cover of the massive bouquet he gripped her hand tight. “Who are you?”

Eyes widening, she tried to tug away.

“You’re the Russian girl, aren’t you? The Grand Duchess’s chit—the one who was abducted? Tru did rescue you, didn’t he?”

“Yes! He was .

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