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Julia Quinn

The Lost Duke of Wyndham

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Jack Audley has been a highwayman.
A soldier. And he has always been a rogue. What he is not, and never wanted to be, is a peer of the realm, responsible for an ancient heritage and the livelihood of hundreds. But when he is recognized as the long-lost son of the House of Wyndham, his carefree life is over. And if his birth proves to be legitimate, then he will find himself with the one title he never wanted: Duke of Wyndham.
Grace Eversleigh has spent the last five years toiling as the companion to the dowager Duchess of Wyndham. It is a thankless job, with very little break from the routine . . . until Jack Audley lands in her life, all rakish smiles and debonair charm. He is not a man who takes no for an answer, and when she is in his arms, she's not a woman who wants to say no. But if he is the true duke, then he is the one man she can never have . . .
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311 páginas impresas
Año de publicación
2009
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Citas

  • olivia tiffanycompartió una citahace 3 años
    “Children!” Jack cut in. “Listen to your mother.”

    “She didn’t say anything,” John pointed out.

    “Right,” Jack said. He frowned for a moment. “John, leave your sister alone. Mary, next time don’t step on the orange.”

    “But—”

    “I’m done here,” he announced.

    And amazingly, they went on their way.

    “That wasn’t too difficult,” he said.
  • olivia tiffanycompartió una citahace 3 años
    Jack tore his eyes off Grace for just long enough to grin approvingly at Amelia. She grinned back, motioning with her head toward Grace, telling him in no uncertain terms to get back to the matter at hand.

    “Grace,” Jack said, rubbing her hands softly with his. “My knee is beginning to hurt.”

    She started to laugh.

    “Say yes, Grace,” Amelia said.

    “Listen to Amelia,” Jack said.
  • olivia tiffanycompartió una citahace 3 años
    “Grace—” He scowled, then laughed. “What the devil is your middle name, anyway?”

    “Catriona,” she whispered.

    “Grace Catriona Eversleigh,” he said, loud and sure, “I love you. I love you with every inch of my heart, and I swear right now, before all who are assembled . . .” He looked around, catching sight of the rectory housekeeper, who was standing open-mouthed in the doorway. “ . . . even—devil it,” he muttered, “what is your name?”

    “Mrs. Broadmouse,” she said, eyes wide.

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