The daughter of a successful merchant, Selina Lyndell never expects to marry an earl. But that’s exactly what is about to happen. Their first meeting is entirely unconventional but the moment Edmund Pembroke, the Earl of Granville, lays eyes on Selina, he’s enchanted.
Selina, the daughter of a successful merchant, is new money and never dreams to aspire as high as an earl for a match. But when Edmund insists on courting her, she tries her best to set her fears aside and enjoy their whirlwind courtship.
But sometimes the fates are cruel and a vicious turn of events shatters all she holds dear.
Edmund isn’t letting Selina go without a fight, be that on the streets of London, at the Old Baily, or against the ton’s vicious gossip. Nothing will stop him from clearing the name of the woman he loves.
Where to buy:
Barnes and Noble
Edmund turned and walked into the Bond Street Bazaar, a large indoor market with high ceilings and wide aisles. And one of the few places on Bond Street he thought he’d find a gift refined enough for his sister; he hadn’t the time to commission anything. Along the sides, vendors called out a variety of wares, everything from fabrics to books to ribbons. It was a veritable woman’s utopia. If not necessarily his.
He didn’t exactly know what he planned to buy Octavia for her birthday. And the bazaar was a cavernous array of confusion.
It teemed with shoppers haggling and inspecting the various trinkets as the afternoon sun streamed through the skylights. The entrance smelled of too many perfumes, but wasn’t quite the assault on the senses as Hamilton was. Edmund quickly and easily moved past the first few stalls, sidestepping the crowds and the more overenthusiastic merchants.
Left of the labyrinth that made up the bazaar were several flower vendors with a small laughing girl on the counter. To the right, Edmund spotted a perfumer surrounded by a gaggle of well-dressed women. He hesitated for a moment, eying the perfume bottles over the women’s heads.
No perfume. Not today.
Turning in the opposite direction, Edmund sidestepped a woman with three children and a yapping dog and strode deeper into the bazaar. Several men in uniform walked slowly along the stalls with several women around them. Edmund easily stepped out of their path only to find himself directly in front of a couple clearly in the midst of an argument.
It was easier to navigate Napoleon’s cannons than it was to walk through this bazaar.
Of course he chose one of the busier days to shop for Octavia. On the second floor balconies small groups of well-dressed gentlemen lounged lazily on the many chairs, talking loudly. He dismissed the men, but wondered if any interesting artwork hung along the second floor today.
Maybe he’d look after he found Octavia her gift. He’d put it off long enough as it was.
He wandered past a laughing group of women and up to one of the booksellers. Octavia had a wide range of reading interests, however, and though he knew she’d be pleased with a book, Edmund quickly dismissed purchasing her one as a gift.
He stood just at the bookseller’s and surveyed the bazaar. Maybe he should ask one of the ladies to help. What he should’ve done was drag Hamilton with him. If anyone was an expert at finding the perfect gift for a woman, it was Hamilton.
Edmund wondered if his very important meeting was with another woman or actual business. Either way, he was on his own.
With a sigh, he crossed from the booksellers to a line of merchants devoid of customers. Edmund scanned through the ribbons and fabrics very much out of his depth and not at all interested in the wares.
Until he spotted the hair combs.
Laid out on velvet trays, they sparkled in the afternoon sun. Some were silver; a few boasted gold accents or brightly colored stones. Each one held its own unique design, filigree or a starburst of pearls. Edmund picked up an ivory comb with garnets shaped into a flower.
Hair combs seemed the perfect gift. Octavia wore them constantly.
“Quite the extensive collection,” Edmund said to the man behind the counter. Then, positive he’d regret admitting as much he confessed, “I may be out of my depth in this choice.”