By Grace Burrowes
Andrew Alexander, Earl of Greymoor, has attempted to run either from thoughts of a boating tragedy that claimed the lives of numerous family, and from an charm to beautiful, petite, Astrid Worthington. He returns to England to discover Astrid widowed, looking forward to a toddler, and extra irresistibly beautiful to him than ever. whilst it turns into obvious that Astrid wishes a husband who can continue her and her unborn baby secure, Andrew needs to come to a decision if previous nightmares will proceed to manage his existence, or if his love for Astrid entitles him to a moment likelihood at happiness–and love.
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Extra resources for Andrew: Lord of Despair (Lonely Lords, Book 7)
He tugged at the line. "When Mr. Nicholas got sent off to war, my boy followed him. " He shook his head in wry reminiscence, "He couldn't let Mr. Nicholas go off by hisself, you see. The pair of 'em was inseparable—bin getting up to mischief together since they was old enough to run. Mr. Nicholas, he got Algy into his own regiment. " "I'm sorry you lost your son, Stevens. " Stevens gave her a look. "Master Nicholas, he was sent, miss. Didn't want to go. Didn't have no choice about it. Old Sir Henry was furious with him— he'd got up to mischief again, y'see.
It surely is, miss. " He handed her a knife. ' Stevens laughed. "Yes, but first you've got to kill it. " Faith squeaked in horror. "Yes, miss, you. " "But I've never killed a thing in my life! Not even a spider. " To her dismay, Stevens didn't budge from his position. He was a groom, not a gentleman. He didn't think a lady should be sheltered from the realities of life. Especially not one who was sleeping in sand hills, his look seemed to say. "Never know when you might need to fish for your supper again, miss.
He had an air about him, a faint unconscious arrogance, a natural authority. He was used to dominating other men. Deciding what was best for others. Burning their boots. If she chose to let him, Nicholas Blacklock would dominate Faith, too. If she chose to let him. " She accused him the moment he was close enough. " There was not a trace of contrition in his voice or demeanor. Her anger sparked back into life. " He glanced at her feet. "They gave you blisters. " She hid her feet under her skirt.