Novels by Zetar086

While the Duke and Duchess of Twyford and Lord and Lady Daniel exchanged congratulations all around, Lady Hillsborough looked on in disgust. “What I want to know,” she said, when she could make herself heard once more, “is if I’m to be entirely done out of weddings, even after all my efforts to see you all in person’s mouse-trap?” “Oh, there are still two Flemings to go, so I wouldn’t give up hope,” returned her nephew, smiling down at her with transparent goodwill. “Apropos of which, has anyone seen the other two lately?” No one had. When applied to, Millard imparted the information that Lord Byron had called for Miss Maribella just before two. They had departed in Lord Byron’s carriage. Mr. Francis has d

The Duke of Twyford returned to London the next afternoon, accompanied by his Duchess. They went directly to Twyford House, to find the entire household at sixes and sevens. They found Lady Hillsborough in the back parlour, reclining on the chaise, her wig askew, an expression of smug satisfaction on her face. At sight of them, she abruptly sat up, struggling to control the wig. “There you are! And about time, too!” Her shrewd blue eyes scanned their faces, noting the inner glow that lit Margaret’s features and the contented satisfaction in her nephew’s dark face. “What gave you been up to?” Felix grinned wickedly and bent to kiss her cheek. “Securing my Duchess, as you correctly imagined.” “You’ve ties the knot alrea

The clink of crockery woke Margaret. She stretched languorously amid the soft cushions, the sensuous drift of the silken covers over her still tingling skin bringing back clear memories of the past hours. She was alone in the bed. Peering through the concealing silk canopy, she spied Felix, tastefully clad in a long silk robe, watching a small dapper servants laying out dishes on the low tables on the other side of the room. The light from the brass lamps suffused the scene with a soft glow. She wondered what the time was. Lying back in the luxurious cushions, she pondered her state. Her final lesson had been in two parts. The first was concluded fairly soon after Felix had joined her in the huge bed; the second, a much more lingering affair, had spun out the hours of the evening. In between, Felix had, to her lasting shock, asked her to marry him. She

Emma had thought he had taught her all about kissing, but this was something quite different. She felt his arms lock like a vice about her waist, not that she had any intention of struggling. And the kiss went on and on. When she finally emerged, flushed, her eyes sparkling, all she could do was gasp and stare at him.Francis uttered a laugh that was halfway to a groan. “Oh, Emma! Sweet Emma. For God’s sake, say you’ll marry me and out me out of my misery.” Her eyes grew round. “Marry you?” The words came out as a squeak. Francis’s grin grew broader. “Mmm. I thought it might be a good idea.” His eyes dropped from her face to the lace edging that lay over her breasts. “Aside from ensuring I’l

For Francis Cambridge, the look on Emma’s face as he walked into the back parlour was easy to read. Total confusion. On Emma, it was a particularly attractive attitude and one wig which he was thoroughly conversant. With a grin, he went to her and took her hand, kissed it and tucked it into his arm. “Let’s go into the garden. I want to talk to you.” As talking to Francis in gardens had become something of a habit, Emma went with him, curious to know what he wished to say and wondering why her heart was leaping about so uncomfortably. Francis led her down the path that bordered the large main lawn until they reached an archway formed by a rambling rose. This gave access to the rose gardens. Here, they came to a stone bench bathed in softly dappled sunshi

The first thought that sprang to Maribella’s mind on seeing Henry Byron enter the back parlour was how annoyed he must have been to learn of her deception. Margaret had told her of the circumstances; they would have improved his temper. Oblivious to all else save the object of her thoughts, she did not see Sophia leave the room, nor Francis take Emma through the long windows into the garden. Consequently, she was a little perturbed to suddenly find herself alone with Henry Byron. “Anna Kripinski, I presume?” His tone was perfectly equable but Maribella did not place any reliance on that. He came to stand before her, dwarfing her by his height and the breadth of his magnificent chest. Maribella was conscious of a devastating desire to throw herself on that bro