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A Wealthy Widow - Carol Townend - Читать любовный роман онлайн в женской библиотеке LadyLib.Net
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Herries AnneA Wealthy WidowАннотация к роману
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Charles read the answer in her face. Looking into her eyes, he was conscious of an overwhelming desire to hold her close and tell her that he would care for her as long as they both lived.
No other woman had ever made him feel quite like this. His stomach clenched with a fierce desire that shocked him by its intensity. And yet it was more than desire—it was a feeling he had never experienced before that he did not yet understand. He reached out, touching her cheek with one finger.
“Arabella…”
A Wealthy Widow
Harlequin®Historical
In the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century, there was a passion for gothic novels. When huge old houses were lit by candlelight, and there were none of today’s modern conveniences, it must have been gorgeously frightening for society ladies to read of young girls cruelly locked away and at the mercy of evil men. How much more terrifying would it be for a young girl stolen from the bosom of a loving family to be forced to take part in a satanic ritual? And think of how her family must have suffered when she could not be found! But in the age of Romance there were at least three brave men willing to walk through hellfire for the sake of the women they loved.
This trilogy deals with the abduction of Miss Sarah Hunter and the search for her by her brother Charles, the Earl of Cavendish and Mr. John Elworthy. It began with Elizabeth Travers and the Earl of Cavendish, and continues with Charles Hunter and Lady Arabella Marshall. The last book tells Sarah’s own story.
The element of darkness is balanced by the thrill of romance, and I hope you will love reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it for you.
TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON
AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG
STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID
PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND
#895 WESTERN WEDDINGS Jillian Hart,
Kate Bridges and Charlene Sands
You are cordially invited to three weddings in the Old West this May!
Three favorite authors, three blushing brides, three heartwarming stories—just perfect for spring!
#896 NOTORIOUS RAKE, INNOCENT LADY
—Bronwyn Scott
Her virginity would be sold to the highest bidder! Determined not to enter into an arranged marriage, Julia could see no way out—unless she could seduce the notorious Black Rake….
Harlequin®Historical is loosening the laces with our newest, hottest, sexiest miniseries, Undone!
#897 COOPER’S WOMAN—Carol Finch
A proper lady should have no dealings with a gunfighter who has a shady past, yet Alexa is bent on becoming Cooper’s woman!
Carol Finch’s thrilling Western adventure will have you on the edge of your seat.
#898 TAKEN BY THE VIKING—Michelle Styles
A dark, arrogant Viking swept Annis back to his homeland. Now she must choose between the lowly work that befits a captive and a life of sinful pleasure in the Viking’s arms!
Viking’s slave or Viking’s mistress? Annis must choose in this powerful, sensual story!
#236 TALK OF THE TON—Mary Nichols
Andrew Melhurst had come to her rescue when she needed him most, but should Elizabeth consider marrying him to save her reputation?
Rumors and scandal in high society!
Winner of the Romantic Novelists’ Association Romance Prize, Anne Herries lives in Cambridgeshire. She is fond of watching wildlife, and spoils the birds and squirrels that are frequent visitors to her garden. Anne loves to write about the beauty of nature, and sometimes puts a little into her books, although they are mostly about love and romance. She writes for her own enjoyment and to give pleasure to her readers.
The Abducted Bride #135
Captive of the Harem #145
The Sheikh #157
Rosalyn and the Scoundrel #166
A Matter of Honor #173
A Perfect Knight #180
*A Knight of Honor #184
*Her Knight Protector #188
**Lady in Waiting #202
**The Adventurer’s Wife #208
‡Forbidden Lady #209
†An Improper Companion #227
‡The Lord’s Forced Bride #231
†A Wealthy Widow #235
Look out for Sarah’s story in
A Worthy Gentleman
Coming soon
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Afterword
‘I had begun to think you would not come today,’ the girl said, smiling at her visitor. She was a pretty girl with soft fair hair that gently waved to the nape of her neck, though at the temples the wings of white testified to the suffering of a debilitating illness. Her eyes were a deep green, but there were shadows in them, and hollows in her cheekbones. She was recovering her health, but the nightmare of her past still haunted her. ‘Nana has been a little better this morning, but she looks forward to your visits so much—and so do I, of course.’
‘I know.’ Arabella placed her basket on the table. It was filled with delicacies, the kind of thing that would tempt an invalid to eat. Her old nurse had cared for her all her life until she retired to this cottage on the estate, and Arabella was very fond of the elderly lady. She smiled at the girl, of whom she was also extremely fond, loving her as she would a sister. ‘I look forward to them too, but Nana is so fortunate to have you to look after her, May. It was a lucky day for us when you came into our lives.’
For a moment the girl’s face clouded. Her friends called her May because it was during that month that she had wandered into their lives more than a year earlier. She had not known where she came from or even her own name. All she knew was that she had been walking a long time. She had been cold and tired and very hungry when she arrived at the isolated cottage at the edge of the village. She hardly remembered knocking at Nana’s door to beg for food, because she had collapsed on to the floor only moments after being invited inside.
May had been desperately ill, her feet torn and bleeding, almost starving and in a raging fever for days on end. Nana had nursed her devotedly, sitting by her bed and comforting her as she cried out and tossed from side to side, haunted by terrible nightmares. The doctor had held little hope of her recovery, but Nana and Arabella had cared for her, never giving up even when it seemed hopeless.
‘I am the lucky one,’ she said now. ‘You have both been so kind to me. You don’t know where I came from or what kind of a person I am. I could be a thief or…anything.’
‘No, you could not,’ Lady Arabella Marshall said, her dark eyes bright with mischief. ‘I know that you are honest, kind and loyal, May. I am so glad that you are here with Nana. Otherwise, I could not easily have gone to London, as I must next week. It is tiresome, but I am promised to my aunt—though if she imagines I shall marry to oblige her she will be disappointed. I have no intention of it!’
‘Do you not wish to marry?’ May looked at her, feeling a little puzzled. Belle was very beautiful with glossy hair the colour of a raven’s wing and dark eyes that seemed to glow silver when she felt anything deeply. She was wealthy in her own right and had been married at eighteen to her childhood sweetheart, who had been killed fighting the French. ‘Are you still grieving for your husband, Belle?’
‘I am not sure,’ Belle said truthfully. ‘We were very much in love, May. I adored Ben all my life. Our fathers’ estates were side by side and we saw each other often. He taught me to ride when I was little and I worshipped him, tagging behind him like a puppy…’ Her laughter was rich and warm and wholly delightful. ‘He was always so brave and he was killed being a hero. His commanding officer wrote me a charming letter about how much he was loved by all who knew him. How could any other man measure up to him? If I married, I think I should be for ever comparing my husband to Ben—and that would not be fair, would it?’ Her lovely eyes were sad, haunted by regret for the husband she had lost.
‘No, but perhaps you might love someone if you let yourself.’
‘I love you and Nana,’ Arabella said. ‘And my aunt too, of course. I shall visit Aunt Hester, because, apart from Tilda, who is a distant cousin of my mother’s, she is my only relation. She and, of course, her son, Cousin Ralph—whom I detest, though I do not tell her so for she is a dear and cannot help having a toad as her son. Ralph takes after his father, who made poor Hester’s life a misery until he obligingly died and left her comfortably provided for.’ Arabella shrugged one dainty shoulder.
‘I promised my aunt I would go up to town when the Season was almost over. I do not wish to join the mad whirl of the matrimony stakes, but I dare say we shall find enough to amuse us. I enjoy the theatre and there will still be those families who do not care to decamp to the sea or the country. It will be lively enough for me.’ And she avoided the Season because it gave too many opportunities for unwelcome marriage proposals, of which she had already received more than she could recall.
Her eyes rested on the girl for a moment. She had not told May, but one of her reasons for going up to town was because she intended to find an investigative agent, to search for details of the girl’s past. May seemed content to stay with Nana, but she did not belong here. Somewhere she must have a family who cared for her. At least, Arabella hoped that there was someone who cared about the girl.
It was nearly sixteen months since she had come to them and Belle had hoped that her memory might return. As yet the past remained a secret to them all, but Arabella was determined to discover the truth. She had waited because May was still so vulnerable, still unable to cope with questions about the past. It was time to try to discover the truth, but whether or not she told May of her findings depended on what that truth turned out to be. The girl was safe and loved with them and Arabella would never desert her. Only if she had a loving family to welcome her back would Arabella tell her what she had discovered.
‘I shall go up and see Nana now, dearest,’ she said. ‘If you look in the basket, you will find a book of poems I thought you might like to have.
And there are some embroidery silks. I know that you like to sew. I shall bring you some material from town and you may use it to make up whatever you choose. What colour would you like for a new gown?’‘You spoil me,’ May said, looking thoughtful. ‘But if I could choose, I think I should like yellow…yes, that is a colour I like.’
Arabella nodded. It was a small thing to discover, but she had learned not to ask the important questions. Little by little, she was teaching May to know what she liked, and perhaps one day she would remember all the things she had forgotten.
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