The Secret Daughter (The Brides of Bellaire Gardens, Band 4) - Softcover

Gracie, Anne

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0593549708 ISBN 13: 9780593549704

Verlag: Penguin Publishing Group, 2024

Inhaltsangabe

When two strangers meet under false pretenses during an idyllic week in the French countryside, they’ll each need to face the truth to find one other again, in a dazzling new Regency romance from the national bestselling author of The Heiress’s Daughter.

Orphaned Zoë Benoît has spent the last three years in Paris learning how to be a lady. But Zoë is torn—as an independent spirit and a talented artist, she cannot help but want more than the tightly controlled life of a society lady.

On an impulsive visit to the château where her mother lived, Zoë, disguised as a maidservant named Vita, meets a handsome wandering artist, known simply as Reynard. One blissful week with the charming Reynard convinces Zoë that this is the man and the life for her—until she discovers what he’s been hiding from her, and she flees, heartbroken.

Longing for the chance to redeem himself, Reynard searches far and wide for the woman he knows as Vita, to no avail. Disheartened, he returns to England to reluctantly resume his role as Julian Fox, the Earl of Foxton. However, when he sees one of Zoë’s paintings, he realizes she’s in London, and becomes desperate to find her before it’s too late. But even if they reunite, can he convince Zoë he’s worthy of her trust and prove to her that, with him, she can be a free-spirited artist and a countess?

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Anne Gracie is the award-winning author of the Marriage of Convenience, Chance Sisters, and Brides of Bellaire Gardens romance series. She started her first novel while backpacking solo around the world, writing by hand in notebooks. Since then, her books have been translated into more than eighteen languages, and include Japanese manga editions. As well as writing, Anne promotes adult literacy, flings balls for her dog, enjoys her tangled garden, and keeps bees.

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Chapter One

France

Late autumn, 1821

The country house party had been a mistake, Zoë Benoît thought as she said her good nights and went in search of her bedchamber.

She had accepted the invitation, thinking there would be picnics, day trips, rides in the country and so on. It was, after all, what she understood people did at house parties.

Not this group. The guests were predominantly elderly people, and all they seemed to do was to sit and gossip, play cards, eat and snooze. So far the only exercise the ladies had taken was to stroll in the gardens or down to the lake, where they watched the gentlemen fishing-which was all they did, apart from eat, drink, play cards and shoot. It was most frustrating.

As for the handful of younger members of the party, she had very little in common with them. The girls were pleasant enough, but all they talked of was fashion-which was interesting enough-and gossip about people she didn't know.

And the three young gentlemen? They were cronies of Monsieur Etienne, the son and heir-and the less said about him the better.

The only reason she'd accepted the invitation was that she was sure she'd finally have the opportunity to visit her mother's former home, which was about twenty miles away, or perhaps twenty kilometres-the new French system of measuring everything in decimals was confusing; people chopped and changed from one system to the other. But it was not too far away, she was sure.

Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs behind her. Blast. She knew who it would be. She quickened her pace.

Behind her, Etienne, the spoiled, indulged, and deeply irritating heir of Baron Treffier, quickened his pace. She could hear him puffing.

Zoë's temper was at breaking point. Five days she'd been at the Treffiers' country house party, and Etienne had spent four and a half of them in hot and unwelcome pursuit of her. And not for the purpose of marriage, either-he was already betrothed to the unfortunate young woman who'd sat through the house party pretending she hadn't noticed her fiancé's appalling behavior.

Had Zoë been in her position, she would not for a moment have put up with it. Not that she would have accepted him in the first place, fortune or not.

She was fed up with Etienne's importunities, his sly, suggestive remarks and his even more infuriating surreptitious touches and squeezes, not to mention the persistent and unsubtle invitations to his bed.

And no matter how often and how firmly-even bluntly-she'd repudiated his advances, his self-consequence was so inflated that he took every rebuff as encouragement.

His parents must have known what he was like, but they'd done nothing, seeming to think it was natural for their beloved son to behave like a randy goat toward an invited guest. To him, all females were fair game.

Hurrying along, she turned a corner and found herself in a dark, deserted corridor that ended in a wall. Curses. A dead end. She'd been heading to her bedchamber, intending to lock herself in, but the old château was such a rabbit warren of corridors, in her haste she'd taken a wrong turn.

The puffing came closer.

Very well then, it was time to make a stand.

Taking a deep breath, she turned and faced him. He bustled toward her, red-faced and breathing hard. Even in the dim light she could see his triumphant leering grin. "So, mon petit chou, you wait for me."

Zoë might speak French like a native, but she was English enough to dislike being likened to a vegetable, especially by this pig of a man. "Monsieur Etienne, I am not your little cabbage. I am not even your chou de Bruxelles!"

He giggled. "Ah, so witty, ma belle."

"I am not your belle, either. I am your 'touch me again and you will regret it' guest!"

"Ah, such fire, such passion, cherie. Je't'adore."

He hurried over to her, and she put up her hands to prevent the embrace that was clearly coming. "Monsieur Etienne-"

But before she could say a thing, he grabbed her outstretched hands and shoved them above her head. She struggled to free herself, but though he was shorter than her, to her fury, he was stronger. He pushed her hands together, gripping them in one hand, and shoved her hard against the wall.

"How dare you," she began, but seeing his mouth aiming wetly for hers, she jerked her head aside, and he slobbered on her neck instead.

He pressed her hard against the wall, holding her immobile with his body. His aroused body. She shuddered.

"Oui, ma belle, I am hot for you too," he muttered, and with his free hand he clawed at her skirts, dragging them up, muttering excited obscenities.

She could scream for help, Zoë thought, but in this part of the château there was no telling whether anyone would even hear her, let alone come to help. Monsieur Etienne was indulged by all. No, she knew what to do. She'd never actually done it before, but if ever there was the time . . .

"I'm warning you," she said.

He giggled with glee and rubbed himself excitedly against her. A cool draft against her legs told Zoë her skirts had reached her thighs. Which gave her much greater ease of movement.

She took a deep breath and jammed her knee as hard as she could between his legs.

With a shriek, Monsieur Etienne released her and collapsed like a failed soufflé, rolling on the floor, moaning and wheezing.

She shook out her skirts, dusted her hands and said, "I said no, Monsieur Etienne, and I meant it." She stepped over his writhing body and walked away, leaving Monsieur Etienne in a crumpled heap, swearing and gasping out feeble threats.

Vile, disgusting, horrid little man.

She found the correct corridor, stepped into her bedchamber and locked the door behind her. She leaned against it, wishing it had a bolt as well, and realized she was shaking.

So much for being a lady. Three years of lessons in proper deportment down the drain.

One small difficulty and she'd reverted right back to the girl who'd grown up in the back streets of London. But what else could she do? She'd seen him bothering the other young ladies, and yet all they did was blush and move away and bleat at him, hoping he would stop.

Which he'd done once he'd spotted Zoë.

She poured herself a glass of water from the jug on the washstand and drank it down. She sat at the dressing table, removed her jewelry, pulled the pins from her hair and contemplated her reflection. Her hands were still shaking.

She'd done it now.

There would be a scandal. And she knew who would be blamed.

She kicked off her shoes, sat on the high bed and considered her options.

She couldn't stay here now. The house party was far from over-there were at least five days left to go-but she would have to leave. First thing in the morning for preference. She had no intention of staying to deal with the fuss that would erupt once Etienne informed his parents of what she'd done.

Though, would he tell them what she'd done, or would he keep quiet about it, too mortified to admit to defeat by a woman? She wasn't sure.

He'd deserved it, and more, but if he did make it public, he'd probably claim she'd attacked him for no good reason. The scandal might even reach Paris. Certainly it would deeply embarrass and upset Madame DuPlessis, her chaperone, who'd made it possible for her to attend the house party when Lucy, the friend and mentor with whom she'd been living the last three years, had been unable to travel.

It was regrettable-the motherly Madame DuPlessis had been very kind to her, and even if there were no scandal, Zoë had no doubt the good lady would be upset at Zoë's abrupt departure-but what...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Penguin Publishing Group
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2024
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0593549708
• ISBN 13: 9780593549704
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 352
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: BERKLEY; https://www.penguin.com/?s=BERKLEY; ; Unit 2 Limavady Business Park; Limavady; County Londonderry; BT49 0HR; Vereinigtes Königreich
• Verantwortliche Person: preigu; mail@preigu.de; ; Lengericher Landstr. 19; Osnabrück; 49078; Deutschland