By Elizabeth Boyle
"Femme Fatale . . .
Napoleon lusted for her fortune whereas Paris swooned at her ft. Adelaide de Chevenoy, claimant to the de Chevenoy fortune, captivated jaded Parisians along with her clean good looks and mysterious previous. not anyone suspected that the newly lower back heiress was once relatively Lily D'Artiers Copeland, Adelaide's brilliant double, despatched by means of the British executive to retrieve a cache of invaluable journals. At her part used to be the aristocratic adventurer who had lured her into spying, a guy she'd spent her complete lifestyles attempting to not love. . . .
Gentleman secret agent . . .
Bold, rushing Webb Dryden remembered the reckless hoyden who'd pursued him as a toddler. yet this Lily, reworked right into a lady who stole his breath away--seemed frustratingly detached to his charms. Posing as her fiancé, Webb deliberate to paintings undercover, yet Lily's brazen methods commanded the eye of Napoleon's intrigue-filled courtroom. without notice Lily was once greater than Webb bargained for, a good looks who touched his middle and haunted his desires, inciting passions that imperiled their very lives. . . .
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Additional info for Brazen Heiress (Brazen, Book 2)
Well, about this room. ” “Who knows what they do in Lunnon, miss? ” The Featherstones had arrived at nearly eight in the evening and had only taken time for supper before retiring. They were here until June, however. Time enough for Anna to unravel the mystery this room presented, and to find out all about the wicked Earl of Carne’s incident. As soon as Martha was finished, Anna ran down to the breakfast parlor and kissed her parents. Lady Featherstone, slender and blond, smiled in a slightly pained way at her younger daughter’s high spirits.
Perhaps the poor lady had been married to Count Nacre and had dreamed of escape. ” Anna asked. “Oh, a very handsome young man and a good employer. He gave up living here, though, after the death, and stays at his estate in the north nearly all the time. ” Anna took the hint, but instead of returning to the house, she chose to wander out into the garden, her mind churning with speculation. For Lady Delabury to have a room made in the image of a chamber in one of her books was eccentric but understandable.
What if he was lying on his library floor breathing his last? Would they hang her? At least, said a voice, if he’s dead he can’t identify his assailant. But the candlestick could. There was only one thing to do. Anna’s legs felt weak as wet paper, but she forced herself to her feet. Still shaking and struggling not to sob, she opened the secret door again to re-enter the Earl of Carne’s cursed house. She staggered out onto the landing, listening carefully for any hint of what was happening. She heard a voice.