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A Lady of Persuasion
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Item Description...
Overview
With only vengeance on his mind, Sir Tobias Aldridge sets out to seduce his enemy's beautiful sister Isabel Grayson who has just returned from the West Indies and is determined to make her mark on society. Original.
Publishers Description
Tessa Dare spins a witty, wanton tale of passion and conquest, as a reformer and a rake find unexpected love.
Only one thing could convince Sir Tobias Aldridge, an incorrigible libertine, to profess undying fidelity to a woman he's just met. Revenge. What better way to get back at an enemy than by stealing the scoundrel's sister? Not that Toby finds it a chore, seducing a beguiling, sultry beauty freshly arrived from the West Indies. When the prize is Isabel Grayson, vengeance is doubly rewarding.
Isabel is determined to marry a wealthy, powerful lord and become a lady of influence, using her rank and fortune to fight social injustice. Sir Toby, with his paltry title and infamous reputation, is unsuitable husband material–but he makes her blood race, her heart pound, and her long-buried passions come to the surface. If she can reform the charming devil, she'll get exactly what she craves: society's respect. But it's a dangerous gamble. For if Toby wins this battle of persuasion, Isabel could lose her heart.
“Prepare to fall in love.”—Julia Quinn
“The sweetest, sexiest romance you'll read all year.”—Eloisa James
Tessa Dare a part-time librarian, full-time mommy, and swing-shift writer. She makes her home in Southern California, where she shares a cozy, cluttered bungalow with her husband, their two children, and a dog.
Chapter One
Sir Tobias Aldridge was contemplating an act of coldblooded murder.
Failing that, an act of barbarous incivility.
By nature, Toby wasn’t one to hold a grudge. As a gentleman of rank, wealth, and unarguable good looks, he’d never received a slight he couldn’t simply laugh off. He called every man friend, and no man enemy.
Until now.
“So that’s him.” Toby glared at the man twirling a fair- haired beauty across the gleaming parquet— Benedict “Gray” Grayson. The scoundrel who’d stolen Toby’s bride, his future, and his very respectability, then returned to a bloody hero’s welcome.
“That’s him. Here, have a brandy.” His host, Jeremy Trescott, the Earl of Kendall, extended a glass.
Toby accepted the drink and downed a quick, blistering swallow. “I could call him out,” he murmured behind the glass. “I could call him out and shoot him dead to - night, in your garden.”
Jeremy shook his head. “You’re not going to do that.”
“Why not? You don’t think I have it in me?” Toby gave a bitter laugh. “Don’t you read the papers, Jem? That affable Sir Toby is a phantom of the past, and good riddance to him. Where did honor and decency get me, I ask you? Jilted, and replaced by a thieving, unprincipled bastard.”
“Gray’s not a bastard. He’s the legitimate nephew of a duchess.”
“Oh, yes. And now a knight, as well. What isn’t he? If you listen to the talk, Sir Benedict’s a shipping financier, a West Indian planter, a feared privateer, a paragon of valor . . .” Toby shook his head. “I know the truth. He’s the thieving bastard who seduced my intended bride. It’s within my rights to call him out.”
“Even if you could do it,” his friend said tersely, “you’re not going to do it. This is Lucy’s first ball. She’s been planning it for months. If you turn it into scandalsheet fodder, I’ll take you into the garden and gut you myself.”
“Well, if you didn’t want scandal, you shouldn’t have invited me. So long as I have the dev il’s own reputation, I might as well live up to it.”
“You ought to rise above it.” Jeremy lowered his voice.
“Listen, you’re bound to meet with them at some point. Gray’s bringing out his younger sister this year, and they’ll be at every major social event. Best to make your public reconciliation now and quell the gossip. Why do you think Lucy and I planned a ball so early in the Season?”
“Because if you waited a few months she’d be too round?” Eager to change the subject, Toby clapped his friend on the shoulder. He had no intention of reconciling with Grayson, publicly or otherwise. Ever. “Congratulations, by the way.”
“How did you know Lucy’s with child?”
Toby made eye contact with his friend’s wife across the ballroom, as she weaved through the crush of guests. For years, Lucy Waltham Trescott had dogged their annual hunting excursions at Henry Waltham’s estate. She’d harbored a girlish infatuation for Toby but had forgotten him quickly enough when Jeremy captured her heart last autumn.
He said, “I’ve three older sisters, and ten nieces and nephews to date. I can tell. A woman’s face gets a bit rounder, her hair shines. And her bosom, it . . .” Jeremy shot him a glare, and Toby sipped his brandy. “Right, well. I can just tell.”
Lucy reached them, and Toby fortified his smile. He’d be damned if he’d let this assembly catch him wearing any expression other than his usual rakish grin.
“Toby!” Lucy exclaimed, taking his hands. “I’m so glad to see you.”
“Look at you, Luce.” He gave her a sweeping gaze and an appreciative wink. The once- hoydenish twig of a girl had blossomed into the lovely, confident Countess of Kendall. “Stunning. Most beautiful lady in the room.” Lucy made a dismissive wave of her hand, but behind the gesture she blushed to the ears. Just as he’d known she would. Toby leaned in to kiss her cheek, ignoring Jeremy’s forbidding glare.
“I know you say that to all the ladies,” Lucy said. She gave him a cautious look. “Sophia looks well, doesn’t she?”
“Oh, she’s radiant.” Toby forced his grin wider as the Graysons waltzed by, Sophia’s flaxen hair and porcelain complexion an elegant ivory blur. “Incandescent, even. She has the look of a woman in love.”
Sophia had never looked incandescent with him.
Lucy seemed to read his thoughts. She laid a hand on his sleeve. “Toby. You weren’t in love with her, either.” He shrugged. Lucy spoke the truth, but the truth didn’t help.
“What’s done is done. You’ve got to move on.” Jeremy nodded toward the crush of guests. “It’s a new Season, man. There’s a fresh crop of debutantes just waiting to experience the renowned Sir Toby charm. Surely one of them has caught your eye.”
Toby considered. True, a fresh conquest might provide a welcome diversion from murderous rage. He’d always been a favorite with the debutantes. But lately, there was scarcely any challenge to it. His scandal- sheet notoriety as the “Rake Reborn” had the mamas on alert and the young ladies in a flutter. All he had to do was appear. “Now that you mention it, there was one . . . just one.” Toby scanned the ballroom for a glimpse of vibrant emerald silk. There was only one lady who’d caught his eye even briefly since he’d made his entrance. He knew he’d never seen her before— he certainly wouldn’t have forgotten her if he had.
Ah, there she was. An intriguing dark- haired beauty unlike any other lady in the room. Unlike any lady he’d ever seen. Until now, he’d caught only glimpses of her through the churning sea of dancers— a flash of emerald, a cascade of raven hair, a swatch of honey- gold skin. Now she lined up with the ladies in preparation for a reel, and he had his first opportunity to study her in full view.
She was tall. Not nearly so tall as he, but taller than the ladies she stood amongst, and possessed of a lushly proportioned figure. The cut of her gown was modest, but she was the kind of woman who managed to look indecent, even fully clothed. Hers was a body plucked straight from some harem fantasy— full breasts, flared hips, long legs.
Toby watched as she favored her dance partner with the hint of a smile. That subtle curve of her lips was somehow more sensuous than any other curve of her body. Desire sparked through him, surprising him with its intensity. His whole body thrummed with that base, ineloquent instinct in which every seduction, no matter how suave, took its root:
I want that.
Who was she? She was in her first Season, most certainly. With her beauty, she could not last more than a few months on the marriage mart— even if her dowry were made up of cockleshells.
Toby shifted to view the row of gentlemen lined up opposite, to discern the identity of her partner. “Bloody hell.”
It couldn’t be. She was partnered with Grayson, the thieving bastard. It wasn’t enough he’d already stolen the woman Toby had planned to marry— now he had to strut and impress the debutantes, too? Damn it, they were Toby’s territory. Now what had begun as vague, lustful inclination firmed into a plan:
I want that.
And I’m going to take it.
“Fancy a reel, Luce?”
“Why, I had not—”
Without waiting for her answer, Toby took Lucy by the hand and tugged her onto the dance floor, wedging their way into the queued- up dancers just instants before the music began. He’d positioned himself at Grayson’s shoulder, and though he bowed to Lucy as the first chords were struck, he kept his gaze slanted toward the beauty in green silk beside her.
The dance was one patterned in groups of three couples, requiring much interchange between adjacent partners, just as Toby had hoped. At regular intervals, he would have occasion to take his emerald- clad vision by the hand, exchange a few words, twirl her dizzy, and— if all that failed to render her breathless— flash his most winning smile.
But all in good time.
Winning over a lady was a matter of strategy, of patience. The first contact must not be skin- to- skin, nor even glove- to- glove, but solely eye- to- eye. Toby moved forward to bow to her, his gaze riveted to hers. Her eyes were remarkable. Wide- set, almond- shaped, and fringed with sable lashes. So large and serious, they seemed to swallow up the rest of her face. For a moment, he let himself sink into those dark, placid pools.
He had a dev il of a struggle fishing himself back out.
A few bars later, he was still recovering when the pattern compelled him to take her hand. He seized her gloved fingers firmly. The soft fabric heated between them as they circled, becoming warm and pliant as skin. Her bare flesh would feel like this, he thought. Satinsmooth. Supple. Hot to the touch as his hands glided under that cool silk to explore her every enticing curve. It would have the texture of cream against his tongue. Lord. Toby hauled on his mental reins before those thoughts carried him away. Never before had he felt such a thrill simply taking a lady’s hand. But then, never before had he seduced a woman straight from the arms of his enemy.
“Toby.” Lucy beckoned him with a twitch of her fingers, and Toby realized they’d fallen behind in the pattern. “Right. Beg pardon.” He leapt forward to claim Lucy’s hands and sweep her down the dance. “And I apologize in advance, for what is about to occur.”
Her eyes flared. “Toby, no. You can’t make a scene.” “Oh, but I could. I could denounce Grayson and Sophia in front of the entire ballroom. Everyone thinks they’re the golden couple, the freshly knighted hero and his beautiful, innocent bride? I could expose the truth.” “And I could expose your innards.” Lucy’s fingernails dug into his arm, proving a fierce huntress still prowled within that elegant exterior. “You wouldn’t dare. I’ve been planning this eve ning for months, Toby.”
The dance parted them before Toby could respond. Then the lady in green silk smiled, and something in his chest pulled tight. He couldn’t have spoken if he’d tried. It was perfect, that smile, composed of full, sensuous lips the color of fine Madeira. Lips designed for sin, framing an innocent row of pearly teeth. And about the corners of her mouth, the slightest hint of melancholy— just enough to intrigue the mind, stir the heart. Those lips defied mere admiration; they wanted a kiss.
There was only one thing wrong with that smile.
It wasn’t directed at him. That bastard Grayson was its lucky recipient, and it was all Toby could do not to thrust out his boot and trip the man as he moved forward to take the beauty’s hands.
Tempting, that idea— but inconceivable. Toby might scuff his boot.
No, he would exact his revenge more subtly, more justly. No messy duel, no public denouncement. Did not the Bible advise an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth . . . or, in this case, a lady for a lady?
When the pattern brought them together again, he pulled his dark- haired temptress close— so close the green silk of her gown tangled with his legs. Her scent teased him: a crisp, fresh- smelling blend of verbena and citrus.
Tightening his grip on her arm, he whispered just as they parted: “I must tell you a secret.”
He squeezed her fingers before releasing them, allowing his thumb to brush the sensitive center of her palm.
He fancied he heard her gasp.
Grayson cast him a wary look. Toby’s arrogance made a feast of it.
He turned back to the lady in green. “You will be shocked,” he murmured as they brushed by one another again, “but it cannot be helped.”
He did not imagine her gasp that time, nor the flush that bloomed from her hairline to her bosom. Lord, she had the most magnificent bosom, and now it was lifting slightly with her every breath, straining the seams of her bodice. Tearing his eyes from the sight was quite possibly the most difficult thing he’d ever done.
An eternity passed before the pattern re united them. Toby dutifully twirled and promenaded, avoiding Lucy’s inquisitive glances by watching her instead. Within him, bitter envy twined with lust. Admiration glowed on her face as she regarded her partner. He despised Grayson more every moment.
When at last he rejoined the lady in green, it was with profound, bone- deep relief. As though he’d journeyed to the Holy Land and back to earn her favor, rather than circling a ballroom. If he’d tried, he couldn’t have explained the sense of purpose and destiny that gripped him. This jaunty reel had become a mission, more serious than any undertaking of his life.
He kept up a low, seductive rush of words as they traced a tight spiral, denying her any opportunity to respond. “I am drawn to you. I haven’t taken my eyes from you all eve ning. I am enraptured.”
He was a liar.
Isabel Grayson trembled as she resumed her place in the line. Her heart pounded a wild rhythm, twice the tempo of the reel. Fortunately, the pattern now afforded her a few bars of rest. She ventured a furtive glance in the gentleman’s direction, only to encounter the disquieting appraisal in his eyes.
Blushing, she dropped her gaze to the floor.
I am drawn to you, he’d said. I haven’t taken my eyes from you all eve ning.
A lie, a lie. His eyes had most definitely not followed her all eve ning. If they had, Bel would have noticed— for she’d been staring at him the whole time.
How could she not stare? He was, quite simply, the most handsome man she’d ever seen, despite the fact she’d grown up in the company of three exceedingly handsome men: her father and two brothers. But their rugged, ro guish appeal drew as much from their imperfections as from their well- formed features. By contrast, this man— this man was an ideal. Sculpted profile, light brown hair threaded with gold, and a lean, confident grace to all his movements, grand or small.
She’d observed him since the moment he entered the room. While he’d circled the assembly with a lithe, easy step; as he’d chatted with their hosts. Even when courtesy forced her to direct her eyes elsewhere, she’d been aware of him, in some tingling notch at the base of her spine. And now, this dance. His bold glances, the stolen caresses, and those devastating murmured words: I am enraptured. Her whole body hummed with a foreign, forbidden thrill: desire.
Oh, this was a disaster!
Bel did not want to be feeling desire. She did not want to be feeling anything. Any other young lady in her place might dream of just this— a divinely handsome man to sweep her away on a giddy tide of emotion.
But not her. She had come to this ball for one reason only: to select a husband from among the eligible lords. Her choice would be a wholly rational decision, made on the basis of reflection, prayer, and a well- informed portrait of the man’s moral character and sphere of influence.
In aid of the pro cess, she knew that a mea sure of physical attraction on the gentleman’s side would be beneficial; hence, this lavish, form- fitting gown. But for her part, Bel would not be influenced by capricious flutterings of sentiment, or worse— by sinful stirrings of desire.
And it must be desire, this plague of sensation rendering her feverish and lightheaded. It certainly felt sinful. And stirring.
“You dizzy me.”
The words were a whisper as the pattern shifted and the handsome gentleman wove past. Reeling from an unwelcome frisson of plea sure, Bel missed a step.
Her brother gave her a look of concern. “Come now,” Gray said, guiding her back into the pattern. “Don’t trust me to lead. You know I’m just learning this countrydance nonsense myself.” He lowered his voice. “I don’t dare cease counting under my breath, or I’ll lose my place completely.”
Bel gave a ner vous laugh and willed her molten- wax knees to solidify. Behave normally, she told herself. One, two, three. Dance, laugh, smile.
“For God’s sake, don’t smile.”
He’d passed behind her again, that seductive phantom, trailing his serpentine whispers that wormed in through her ears and coiled low in her belly. And here he came once more.
“When you smile, I can’t breathe.”
Oh dear. This was not good. Not good at all.
She knew, because she was good. She was. She was a good, good girl. Not at all the type of lady to be tempted by a golden- haired, silver- tongued dev il in fitted broadcloth. Yes, she’d been raised by a degenerate father, a lunatic mother, and two brothers who had rebuilt the family fortune through violence and theft— but Bel refused to follow that path. She’d devoted her life to ser vice and charity, although she’d grown frustrated with the limits of her good work on Tortola. Visiting the infirm, teaching children to read, even supporting the sugar cooperative— she was only sticking plasters on a rifle wound. She couldn’t decrease unfair tariffs; she couldn’t abolish slavery. The only people with the ability to effect meaningful change were here, in London: the lords, with their wealth and power and voices in government. Bel could not become one of them, but she could become one of the wealthy, powerful ladies at their sides.
It was a simple plan, really. She would marry a lord. She would become a lady of influence. And then she would make the world a better place. One, two, three. But first she must get through this dance without disgracing herself completely. The task was proving easier conceived than accomplished.
“Right,” the man whispered as they crossed paths again.
Right? What did he mean, right? Now irritation bubbled inside her. There was nothing right about his presumptive behavior. There was most certainly nothing right about the surreptitious touch that glanced off the base of her spine—there. A firm brush just above her left hip that had her startling, quivering, pivoting . . . Turning to the right.
“Then left,” he murmured. “Mind the feathers.”
Bel turned to her left, ducking to avoid a sudden onslaught of ostrich plumes as she circled a dour- faced matron. Her mind whirled. He was helping her through the dance. It wasn’t enough that he already had her intrigued, thrilled, angered, and just a little bit afraid. Now, to this stew of emotion inside her, he was adding gratitude. He was making her like him.
“Now back,” he whispered. “Nicely done.”
Oh, this just became worse and worse. They stood at rest again, and Bel felt his gaze burning over her skin. In a desperate effort to discourage him, she lifted her chin and shot the handsome stranger a haughty, quelling look.
In return, the man winked. Winked!
More distressed than ever, she averted her eyes. She should have known it wouldn’t work. She had no talent what ever for haughtiness or quelling.
But she was an expert at following rules.
This dance had rules. A pattern. There was a right way to step, and a wrong way. The thought calmed her. If she adhered to the pattern, followed all the right steps, perhaps she could subdue this tempest of sensation within her— all these incon ve nient feelings stirred by a gentleman whose name she did not even know and whose fine profile she would never forget, should she live to the age of ninety- four.
Bel squared her shoulders. I have a mission, she reminded herself as she took her brother’s hand and moved numbly through the pattern. Turning first left, then right, then releasing his hand to circle back round. I have a purpose, a cause.
“You have me utterly bewitched.”
The words set her trembling anew. How did the man keep passing so close to her, so indecently near, without drawing attention?
Bel looked to her brother, whose forehead was wrinkled with concentration. As Gray danced, his lips moved ever so slightly. One, two, three . . . He was too absorbed in the pattern to notice a thing.
Perhaps she ought to flee. Would it draw a great deal of attention, if she simply turned on her heel and ran? She sighed. Of course it would. And as much as she hoped to draw society’s attention, she didn’t want to attract it that way. If she wanted to change the world, or even some small corner of it, these people must respect her and follow her example. Her comportment must be above reproach.
No, she could not flee. She must stay. She must follow the pattern of the dance. She must move toward this unnervingly handsome man and allow him to take her hand once again.
“Give me a word.” His hand slid up to clasp her arm just below the elbow. Just above her glove. His thumb stroked her bare flesh, and Bel quivered with exquisite fear. “One word.”
Together they halted in the center of the dance. His eyes held her captive, warm copper alloyed with insistent steel. His voice was low, for only her ears. “Forgive me, but there is something between us. Some force I can no better explain than resist. I am faint with it, feverish. Give me a word. Tell me you feel it, too.”
Bel made a feeble attempt to retract her arm, but his grip tightened, his thumb pressing against the racing pulse in the hollow of her elbow. She couldn’t think what to do. There were no more thoughts in her head, only riotous, mad sensation pounding in her blood.
“Do you? I beg of you, speak the truth.”
Her eyes squeezed shut. She was a good girl. A good, good girl.
She did not lie.
“Yes.” |
Item Specifications...
Pages 352
Dimensions: Length: 0.75" Width: 4.25" Height: 6.75"
Weight: 0.35 lbs.
Binding Softcover
Release Date Sep 29, 2009
Publisher Ballantine Books
ISBN 034550688X
EAN 9780345506887
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Availability 17 units.
Availability accurate as of May 27, 2012 08:39.
Usually ships within one to two business days from Reno, NV.
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Reviews - What do our customers think?
 | worst heroine ever! Feb 2, 2010 |
| i really liked goddess and siren by tessa dare, but this book was horrible! the heroine was the absolute worst i have ever read. spoiled and bratty and super WHINY! i didn't understand why the toby fell in love with her, except that he didn't want to end another engagement, and i felt sorry for him throughout the book. i truly hated this character. i skipped the entire middle. the only bright spots were the secondary characters. gray and sophia, jeremy and lucy, and joss and hetta were fun to see interact again. plus there is a scene between toby and sophia where she finally gets to tell him she's sorry and why she left. that made it almost worth buying. ALMOST. | | |  | not all that Jan 29, 2010 |
| Well, I bought this book based on all the rave reviews and the fact that Julia Quinn had recommended it on her web site, too. To me, it was just okay. not the worst i've read, but not 5 star quality either. plus, maybe i'm just becoming a prude, but for me some of the love scenes were a little too graphic for my taste, but agian, thats just me. Hope this helps with any potential readers. PS- i read the whole trilogy and feel the same about all 3 books. | | |  | A truly charming hero Jan 23, 2010 |
A Lady of Persuasion is a typical regency romance and yet not so typical because the hero and heroine are not exactly your typical leads. They are not boldly different but they are just a bit more memorable due to the heroine's selfless nature and the hero's noble but flawed character.
It's almost impossible not to be charmed by Sir Toby. He is affable, sweet, boyish, and just plain lovable. However, he has not had much luck in love as his former fiancé jilted him (I read the previous novel about this fiancé). At a ball he sees the man who married his former betrothed dancing with a beautiful woman and he vows to meet this vision.
Isabel Grayson is an avowed do-gooder. She wants to right so many wrongs in society but realizes that she is limited from making grand changes by her sex so she has set her mind to marrying a peer who will stand up for her causes in the House of Lords. Isabel is a sweet girl but also one who carries a mountain of guilt and worry. She fears her own passionate nature will be her downfall since her mother went mad and was a highly sensual woman. To combat her own desires, Isabel turns her pent up energies toward helping the less fortunate and denying her own nature.
Toby recognizes Isabel is a passionate lady and within a few hours they become entangled in each other's lives. Isabel knows that Toby can be a better man and he knows Isabel is repressing her true desires. They need each other but don't realize how much their lives will change when they allow their defenses to come down.
Isabel believes in standing by her man but she also is way too restrained with her emotions. Her feelings are almost lukewarm when it comes to Toby or at least she tries to keep them that way, but Toby can tease her into happy moods and I liked his carefree happy nature. He wasn't perfect though and this gave him depth. In a twist, Toby is the one who is in touch with his feelings, and he desperately wants to be the man that Isabel believes him to be. In fact, his biggest problem is that Isabel thinks he is nearly perfect and those ideals have a terrible way of crashing at the most inopportune moments.
This is a wonderful ending to Miss Dare's trilogy. I never read the first novel in this series but A Lady of Persuasion allows the reader to revisit old friends. Still this is Isabel and Toby's story mostly and it is a good one.
| | |  | What Happened?!... Dec 7, 2009 |
I'm so very disappointed...and very very shocked!
I've been a HUGE fan of Tessa Dare ever since I read "Goddess of the Hunt" and as you all know I do not give ratings where ratings aren't due, and I'm not going to start now.
This author built two perfect and entertaining characters in her previous books...And I can't believe this is how she decides to tell their stories. We all get to know Sir Toby in "Goddess" and I found myself in awe of him...I liked Toby from the start but when Dare shows us his true colors in this novel she turns him into a yappy tripping over his own feet drooling no guts of a man...
Isabel Grayson is even worse than Toby. She's an exotic beauty; Dare really had a way of showing us how glamorous she was, but reading about her is literally like watching paint dry (I'm not kidding)... It's been a long time since I've disliked a character so much.
I'm still so confused at how this story went so wrong. But boy did it ever. The only bright side to this book was the secondary story of Joss and Hetta, I was hoping they would get a book of their own, but they didn't.
I do however realize that not all books in a complete series can be 5 Star reads, but to let a story go so carelessly?! That wasn't very smart. LoL! Can you tell I'm really upset about this?. I'm crossing my fingers tightly that this is a fluke incident by this author. I will read the next in the series, but if it's anything like this one I'll not spend my hard earned book money (*smiles*) on this writer again.
Tessa Dare does have the stuff to make it in this book filled world...She proved that with the first two in this series (Both 5 Stars), but if she keeps writing like this she's in trouble before she's even given herself a chance.
| | | | A Wonderful Conclusion to a Fine Trilogy! Nov 27, 2009 |
After reading Goddess of the Hunt and Surrender of a Siren, I was eager to read this third in the trilogy about Bel and the poor jilted Toby. And what a wonderful set of books these are.
Toby's determined to gain some sort of revenge on the man who 'stole' his intended, the beautiful Sophia, and Bel is determined to find a man with decent political standings in order to become a 'lady of influence' among London society. There's no room in her life for love and desire, not with her goals for charity and helping the less fortunate. Yet Toby awakens within her a craving for passion that terrifies her.
Their marriage is nearly doomed from the beginning, for Toby promises things that he shouldn't, only to appease Bel in order for her to find him to be the one suitable husband she seeks. Each of them have their doubts of worthiness regarding their own significance to the other. I think Tessa Dare did an outstanding job formulating how Toby and Bel struggle with their issues and realize and come to terms with their shortcomings.
I wasn't sure what I thought of Bel in the beginning, with her rather 'holier than thou' attitude in her quiet and innocent sort of way. But over the course of the book, I began to understand and accept her behavior and beliefs. That's the one thing about how a person is shaped after tragic incidents in their past. You just don't know. Everyone deals with things differently and takes from them what they will, shaping them into who they will become. And with what Bel suffered with her mom, her father, and her brothers, well, I can understand how she would grow to want the things she does and fear the things she fears, such as desire and love.
I greatly enjoyed the conclusion of this trilogy with Bel and Toby. And I loved the way all three books tied into the other. Such wonderful characters. It was a pleasure spending more time with Lucy and Jeremy, and Sophia and Gray. And even the side-story with Gray and Bel's brother, Joss and Lucy's physician, Hetta. That was a sweet surprise and one I was very thankful to read!
A fine historical trilogy, one I would not hesitate recommending to others!
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