By Julia Quinn
"*Anne Wynter is probably not who she says she is . . .*
But she's dealing with particularly good as a governess to threehighborn younger girls. Her task could be a challenge—in a singleweek she unearths herself hiding in a closet choked with tubas, playingan evil queen in a play that will be a tragedy (or mightbe a comedy—no one is sure), and tending to the injuries ofthe oh-so-dashing Earl of Winstead. After years of dodgingunwanted advances, he's the 1st guy who has actually temptedher, and it's getting more durable and more durable to remind herself governess has no company flirting with a nobleman.
*Daniel Smythe-Smith could be in mortal threat . . .*
But that's not likely to forestall the younger earl from fallingin love. And while he spies a mysterious lady at his family'sannual musicale, he vows to pursue her, no matter if that meansspending his days with a ten-year-old who thinks she's aunicorn. yet Daniel has an enemy, one that has vowed to seehim useless. And while Anne is thrown into peril,he will cease at not anything to ensuretheir chuffed finishing . . .
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Additional info for A Night Like This (Smythe-Smith Quartet, Book 2)
His castle. His ward. ” Pleased? Bloody hell, the woman pleased him dangerously well; that softly impatient hand shaping her hip, her hem revealing an equally impatient tapping foot, the discrepant ﬂowers sagging from her girdling belt, her inexhaustible resolve. ” Would have to do, for the time being, for his purposes. “Good, my lord, then I’ll see that you get a—” She stopped short as a great pounding suddenly rolled down from the wooden stairs. A sound that drew a sharp but deeply concerned frown from the woman.
Why the devil would the woman be kissing that bastard de Graffe? And why was she looking at him as THE BRIDE BED 53 though she had just been caught in some magniﬁcent falsehood. ” She ignored him, bent to the girls. ” She was bloody well right about that. ” The girls clasped hands and jumped around in a circle until the woman took hold of their wrists and held them apart. “Settle yourselves, please. ” She raised the hand of the eldest. “And this is Fiona. My sisters. ” They turned to him as a pair, inspecting him from head to boot, still holding fast to Talia’s hands.
He set her grufﬂy on her feet and held her shoulders between his hands, any hint of amusement gone from his eyes. ” The huge man went still as a mountain, his eyes ﬂinty cold. “You are my ward, Lady Talia. I am your guardian. Nothing more. ” He caught her elbow and led her up the stairs. Her great hall was now seething with de Monteneau’s men. Knights, by the look of them, broad-shouldered, strutting giants; far from battleweary, or slathering with bloodlust, or carousing on stolen ale. They certainly smelled better than Rufus’s lot.
A Night Like This (Smythe-Smith Quartet, Book 2) by Julia Quinn