The Rebellious Damsel
A baron's spoiled daughter, Cassandra Treyman's plans to escape her parents goes awry, and she determines to burn the Bible of the maid who ruined everything. One word captures her attention: Forgiveness. Is it too late?
The Reluctant Knight
Heir to his father's shipping empire, Richard Carrington's wealth fails to make a tradesman's son suitable for a baron's daughter. Her parents prefer to bargain her to an unknown suitor in India, a man Richard suspects may not exist. Why pursue an unattainable woman?
Unscrupulous men and women conspire to gain what they desire no matter the cost to anyone else. Honorable men and women do what they may to follow God and aid in His work to save souls. Follow the world or follow God. Which will they choose? The consequences may cost more than they can afford.
Her partner ignored her, and Cassandra inched away, watching the one man she ought not notice at all.
Dressed all in black, but for his stark white elegantly tied cravat, many of the ladies gazed upon him with an interest she dared not admit. The men gazed on in a mixture of distaste and admiration.
Though Carrington's family acquired their riches through the unsavory practice of a trade, they were wealthier than most, providing him a grudging welcome. His unfashionably tanned skin may remind them of a laborer, but his short curling sun-streaked hair and green eyes accentuated his decidedly masculine beauty.
An unfamiliar sensation coursed through her. She wanted to touch his hair and skin, experience the softness and warmth. Her whole body ached to know the safety of his strong arms. She wanted his dimpled smile for herself alone.
He surveyed the room. His gaze paused on her. She glanced behind her to ensure someone else wasn't the object of his intense attention. A smile curved his bowed lips, and the dimples appeared, thrilling her to the bone. How had she failed to notice how handsome he was, the self-assurance with which he carried himself?
The merest nod in her direction. He headed straight for her, didn't he? She hoped he was walking toward her. Perhaps the evening wouldn't be a miserable loss. She might yet enjoy a few moments, mayhap even one dance.
He stopped a little closer than circumspect but not so anyone might object, what with the crush of people. He offered a courtly bow.
"Miss Treyman." He held her gaze as he kissed her fingers. Her gloved hand trembled in his. "As beautiful as always."
He stole her breath, and heat flooded her cheeks in a most unbecoming way. She struggled to calm herself and find her voice. "I thank you, Mr. Carrington. You're most kind, as always."
His smile broadened. "May I have the honor of the next dance?"
"I should be delighted." Maybe God didn't hate her.