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By Love Undone (Bancroft Brothers Series #1) by Suzanne Enoch, Paperback | Barnes & Noble®
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Book Club Girl book clubs. You know King George so much better than I. As she expected, the mention of George IV distracted her employer from whatever it was that had upset him. Maddie chuckled, relieved as reluctant humor returned to his voice.
Bancroft snorted. Hand me that letter, my dear. She complied, shaking crumbs off and resisting the urge to read it herself. He would tell her the news. He always did. Awkwardly he flattened the paper against his chest. And brace yourself.
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Bancroft stopped and looked up at her, obviously waiting for the significance of that single word to sink in. He was bound to answer eventually. Maddie straightened. I have sat to write you immediately upon my return to Highbarrow Castle. Bancroft paused to catch his breath. He tired so easily these days. Otherwise, despite your past errors of judgment, I would make an effort to call upon you at Langley Hall. All she knew of the duke were tales of his monumental stuffiness and arrogance, and Maddie let out her breath in a silent sigh of relief.
Shame on you. He has agreed to journey to Somerset to oversee planting and to tend to the estate during your recovery. He follows immediately upon this letter, and should arrive at Langley on the fifteenth of the month.
See a Problem?
Yours, Lewis. Maddie gazed out the window. The lovely morning, the first without spring rains in three days, had become a disaster. Worse than a disaster. She took a deep breath. Her employer nodded, a sympathetic grimace touching his gaunt face. The Marquis of Warefield, himself.
He reached out and squeezed her fingers. You are acquainted with him, I suppose? She shook her head. I believe he was in Spain during my.
By Love Undone
She eyed him fondly, wondering who was supposed to be comforting whom. None of them -- not one of them -- saw anything but that stupid kiss, and that stupid man trying to shove his hand down my dress. And I want nothing to do with London, ever again. Once the letter to Highbarrow Castle had gone out, someone had been bound to reply.
She knew of him. Quinlan Ulysses Bancroft was the very pink of the ton , a favorite of the new king, the bluest of blue-bloods, the epitome of propriety and dignity. And she loathed him without ever having seen his pampered, spoiled, self-important visage.
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He was one of them. He owns Langley Hall, my dear; I only manage it for him. And he will take whatever steps are necessary to preserve his considerable monetary well-being, with or without my consent. You know that. She sighed. Even so, he might have asked whether you wanted assistance before he foisted his son off on you. Unexpectedly, Mr. Bancroft laughed again, rare color touching his pale cheeks.
Her employer narrowed his eyes, suspicion momentarily touching his expression. A flash of guilt ran through her. After all, this deuced marquis was Mr. And even though she might detest him and the rest of the damned aristocracy, she also knew quite well how lonely Malcolm must feel being cut off from his family. Not in front of her employer, anyway. Malcolm pulled himself into a more upright position, grunting with effort as his still legs hampered the movement.
Iddings down to the village and have her spread the word. How can he choose between his heart's desire and his brother's safety?