Duke Of Darkness. Anabelle Bryant
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London, 1817
The Duke of Wharncliffe, Devlin Ravensdale, is devastated when he receives a missive announcing the death of his only relative, Aunt Min. Consumed with guilt, he regrets not having visited her in years, despite he’s chosen a reclusive lifestyle to hide his secretive past. Saddened by the loss, he dutifully honors his aunt’s last wish, to take responsibility of a young ward, Alex, and arrange a suitable marriage.
Reluctant, yet determined, Devlin sets off to collect his young charge, only to discover the he is a she, and Alexandra is stunningly beautiful…posing an unexpected temptation.
Tasked with finding an eligible bachelor, Devlin is forced back into society, a world where he has something of a dark reputation. Worse yet, it seems the beguiling beauty has a secret of her own to hide. Still, finding a husband for Alexandra shouldn’t prove difficult as long as he’s able to let her go.
To Love A Wicked Scoundrel
Duke of Darkness
Anabelle Bryant
ANABELLE BRYANT
began reading at the age of three and never stopped. Her passion for reading soon turned into a passion for writing and an author was born. Happy to grab her suitcase if it ensures a new adventure, Anabelle finds endless inspiration in travel; especially imaginary jaunts into romantic Regency England, a far cry from her home in New Jersey. Instead, her clever characters live out her daydreams because really, who wouldn’t want to dance with a handsome duke or kiss a wicked earl?
Though teaching keeps her grounded, photography, running and writing counterbalance her wanderlust. Often found with her nose in a book, Anabelle has earned her Master’s Degree and is pursuing her Doctorate Degree in Education. She proudly owns her addiction to French fries and stationery supplies, as well as her frightening ineptitude with technology.
A firm believer in romance,Anabelle knows sometimes life doesn’t provide a happily ever after, but her novels always do.
She enjoys talking with her fans. Visit her website at AnabelleBryant.com.
For anyone who believes in happily ever after. ~ This one started it all.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
London 1817
“You’ve gained a little weight.” Devlin’s observation broke the silence as he slid from the bed and moved to the sideboard intent on pouring a brandy. He glanced over his shoulder to see the reaction his words had caused, then reached for the decanter and raised a crystal glass.
“Do you think so?”
Amanda’s question revealed concern more than upset, and he watched with half interest as she sat upright in bed, pushing the sheets and velvet coverlet to her waist. She flicked her eyes in his direction, then down to her bare breasts as if trying to solve a difficult puzzle.
“Are you sure?”
Devlin Ravensdale, Duke of Wharncliffe, was always sure but he did not voice the knowledge. Instead he pushed off the far wall, swallowed a healthy amount of brandy, and meandered towards the bed. He moved without a care, because he hadn’t one. Coming into the dukedom at a young age, he’d grown more comfortable with his title than his aristocratic peers, learning to manipulate its use with an innate ease. Entitlement brought many things, including the lovely Widow Penslow, lounged atop the silk bed linens like a pampered, well-kept pet.
He took another mouthful of brandy and leaned in for a kiss. A rush of liquor filled her mouth as she tangled her tongue with his in hungry enthusiasm. Anxious to please. Always anxious to please.
With an abrupt turn, he pulled away and reached for his underclothes and trousers. “Perhaps a tad.”
“Must you leave already?”
Amanda extended her bottom lip in what she believed portrayed an appealing pout, equal parts naïve innocent and sophisticated temptress, but he wanted none of it. His interest slack, visiting her townhouse had become an exercise more in tedium than in enjoyment. If handled correctly, the entire situation could end without issue. The last