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High-spirited, independent, and rebellious, Lady Harper has no intention of finding a husband. And why should she, when every man she's ever met has bored her to tears? That is, every man except for one...
The Duke of Greenwood may be many things - arrogant, rakish, and a cad, to name a few - but boring he isn't. After a chance encounter with Harper leaves him entranced, he vows to make her his wife... The only problem? She can't stand the sight of him.
But the duke is a man accustomed to getting what he wants, and he's determined to have Harper... no matter the cost.
Chapter Two Excerpt
"Tell me," Doyle drawled, taking secret pleasure in the way Harper's eyes lit up as though she were anticipating a battle, "do you make it a habit of being perverse?"
"Do you make it a habit of being overbearing and pompous?" she countered, her sugary tone at odds with her harsh words.
Doyle's grin expanded. Was it any wonder he'd known almost from the first moment they met that she was destined to be the woman he married?
Some men - no doubt most men - wanted a sweet, docile wife. One who would obey their every command without question and never argue. Or, at the very least, one with wealthy parents and a generous dowry. But given that he already had a foxhound who never disagreed with him and enough wealth to last seven lifetimes, Doyle wanted something else.
He wanted a woman who looked at him and saw more than just his title. A woman who challenged him. A woman who knew her own mind and wasn't afraid to be herself.
A woman he'd begun to fear did not exist...
Until Harper, with all her snide remarks and moody scowls, waltzed into his life.
No, not waltzed, Doyle thought silently as the corners of his eyes crinkled with hidden amusement. More like stomped. Yes. Stomped is the perfect word for it.
"That depends," he said, gesturing for her to duck as they passed beneath a low hanging branch of wisteria. Ahead of them Mary and her mother marched arm in arm, their heads bent close together as they chattered away like two magpies.
Straightening back up on the other side of the wisteria, Harper regarded him suspiciously beneath dark winged eyebrows. "On what?" she asked.
"On whose company I am currently keeping."
"And here I was under the impression you were pompous and overbearing all the time."
"No," he said, shaking his head. "Truth be told, people often find me quite charming."
"Are these people... your servants?" she ventured.
Doyle chuckled. He couldn't help himself. "I may very well be pompous and overbearing but you, my dear, are audaciously cheeky.
She frowned at him. "I am not 'your dear'."
"Not yet."
"Not ever," she corrected.
Patting the arm she'd reluctantly tucked beneath his when they'd begun their stroll, Doyle merely smiled and said, "We shall see, Lady Harper. We shall see."
The London Ladies:
Runaway Duchess
Spinster and the Duke (novella)
Forgotten Fiancee
Lady Harper (novella)
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