A Georgian historical romance set in the London.
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Lis'Anne Harris, Historical Romance Author
LADY DESIREE FRAZIER finds herself the object of a scandalous auction. Belittled for her stuttering speech, no man wants her to wife. Anger and disgust stiffen Desiree’s resolve to gain control of her life.
LORD ALEXANDER EVERDON, is in London to rescue his wayward brother. What he doesn’t expect to stumble upon is the noble Lady Desiree surrounded by lascivious lechers.
BOUND TOGETHER in a wild bid to free Alex’s brother from a date with the gallows. Desiree must save Alex’s life and expose a murder plot before she can revel in his Sweet Salvation.
Desiree stood alone in the gloaming, her forehead resting against the windowpane. The street lamps were being lit, one by one; the shop owners had closed their doors before the last rays of the setting sun disappeared. She stared at the people walking by on the filthy cobbled street below and wished she were one of them, a nameless faceless woman in the throng. Silent tears slipped gently down her cheeks. Her bottom lip quivered with the greater need to wail out her anguish at the cruel world passing her by without a backward glance.
The door to her chamber in the Black Swan Inn opened behind her with an audible click. She pulled her handkerchief from thelace edged sleeve at her wrist and hurriedly erased the telltale signs of her tears before turning to face the room. It wouldn't do for her step-uncle to catch her crying again. Every one of his hateful words was a lance piercing her heart and she didn't have on the armor necessary to deflect the pain.
"I told you to keep your mouth shut." His disgust-filled voice was a never-ending waterfall of misery to her ears. "That man would have taken you off my hands had you shown one iota of intelligence. As usual, you sat there unable to utter one intelligible sentence."
"I-I am s-s-sorry." Desiree bowed her head to hide her flush of anger. Why did her mind form each word perfectly, yet her tongue stumbled? There was no answer for why she couldn't speak normally. She turned back to the window. As the door slammed shut, she flinched. No man on earth wanted her the way she was.
If only her uncle would let her live a quiet life in the country, alone with her books and her dreams, she would somehow find contentment. Being paraded before one gentleman after another—and some not so gentlemanly—she felt like a deformed lamb up for auction with no one willing to bid. The Season was long over. Most of the nobility had retired to their country estates for the winter,
but her uncle was desperate to find a man, no matter how lowly, before the year was out.