Scandal
Chapter One
In March of 1819, at exactly eleven-thirty in the morning, during an
overcast spring day that blew blustery and cold, Anna Rose Brooks
rendered the duke of Wroxly senseless.
Of course, at the time, she had no idea he was a duke. Indeed,
seconds before the accident, she'd been atop the roof of her
tenement-the two-and three-story buildings in St. Giles so packed
together they formed a sort of field-cursing at her kite because the
daft thing was about to sink onto the busy street below.
"No," she told the triangular shape that hung in the air above her
head, darting and ducking this way and that with a crackle of the
canvas material. "You shall not do this," she added, tugging on the
string.
Blast it, she'd spent hours crafting this particular design, but the
bloody thing kept insisting on zigging and zagging against the gray
backdrop like a ball between two buildings, lowering, and then
lowering some more, and then not lowering-diving.
"Ballocks," she cursed, letting go of the string. She ran to the
edge of the roof, her heart beating a disastrous thump as she
watched her precious invention fall toward the carriage ... read full excerpt from Scandal ebook
