Sylvia Andrew - Francesca

“Why, yes, of course!” Marcus replied.

Francesca, the wind taken somewhat out of her sails, stared at him.

“I thought that would please you. You said you wished me to forget the lot,” he said earnestly.

Francesca pressed her lips together firmly. He would not make her laugh; she would not let him—that was how it had all started last time.

And this man had a talent, it seemed, for reaching that other Francesca of long ago. She must regain control of her emotions. She must!

Francesca

Harlequin ®Historical

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taught modern languages for a number of years, ultimately becoming vice-principal of a sixth-form college. She lives in Somerset, England, with two cats, a dog and a husband who has a very necessary sense of humor and a stern approach to punctuation. Sylvia has one daughter living in London, and they share a lively interest in the theater. She describes herself as an “unrepentant romantic.”

* Lord Calthorpe’s Promise #142

* Lord Trenchard’s Choice #148

* Colonel Ancroft’s Love #159

A Very Unusual Governess #790

The Bridegroom’s Bargain #814

Eleanor #232

Francesca #266

#955 THE NOTORIOUS MR. HURST—Louise Allen

Lady Maude Templeton has turned down many proposals, with her heart set on one man—sexy, talented theater owner Eden Hurst. He doesn’t believe in love, but Maude is determined to make Eden her own. Society is about to see she can be just as shocking as her Ravenhurst friends when she puts her mind to it!

The latest thrilling installment of Louise Allen’s Those Scandalous Ravenhursts

#956 SIERRA BRIDE—Jenna Kernan

Sam Pickett is rich, powerful and used to getting his way. So he is baffled when stunning Kate Wells isn’t remotely interested in becoming his latest plaything—despite the fact that she’s poor, with an aunt and blind sister to support. Since striking it rich, Sam has felt a troubling emptiness and knows that his money can never fill the hole in his life where Kate now belongs….

He’ll have the only woman he wants!

#957 THE VISCOUNT’S KISS—Margaret Moore

When Lord Bromwell meets a young woman on the mail coach to Bath, he has no idea who she is—until after they have shared a soul-searing kiss! The nature-mad viscount isn’t known for his spontaneous outbursts of romance—and the situation isn’t helped by the fact that the woman he is falling for is a runaway….

The Viscount and the Runaway

#958 REYNOLD DE BURGH: THE DARK KNIGHT—Deborah Simmons

Tall, dark and handsome, Reynold de Burgh is nonetheless wary of the opposite sex—until he meets beautiful, young Sabina Sexton! That innocent Sabina fearfully begs his help to fight the “beast” terrorizing her village only makes the brooding knight more desirous of her.

The last bachelor of the de Burgh dynasty is single no longer!

#265 MARRYING CAPTAIN JACK—Anne Herries

Lucy Horne is excited about her first Season. But despite being the belle of every ball, she can’t seem to quell her feelings for a man she has met only once before—the enigmatic and dashing Captain Jack.

He must clear his name to claim his bride

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Lightning was flickering over the hills ahead, and every now and then came a distant roll of thunder—another storm was on its way. The field workers had given up for the day and were hurrying home before the storm broke, the children clinging to their mothers’ skirts, fathers carrying the littlest ones on their shoulders. But they smiled at the shabbily dressed young woman who passed them on the outskirts of the village, and greeted her with respect.

Miss Fanny was on her own way home to the Manor, where she lived with her aunt, Miss Cassandra Shelwood. Though she was wearing an old dress and a tattered sunbonnet, though all the world knew that her mother had run off with a well-known rake and had never been seen again, all the same, Miss Fanny was the late Sir John Shelwood’s granddaughter. She and her aunt were the last of a long line of Shelwoods who had owned most of the land round about for as long as anyone could remember.

Miss Shelwood had a heart of stone—everyone was afraid of her—but Miss Fanny was usually very friendly. Today she seemed preoccupied. Perhaps what they were saying about her aunt’s health was true after all. There were long faces at the possibility, for what would happen to the estate if—when—Miss Shelwood died? It was well known that Miss Shelwood wouldn’t give her niece the time of day if she could help it. So what was going to happen to the Shelwood estate?

Francesca Shelwood had been so deep in thought that she had barely noticed the lightning and was only faintly aware of the thunder rumbling ominously round the valley. The villagers were upon her before she had noticed them. But she smiled at them as they bobbed and nodded their heads, and turned to watch them as they hurried on, anxious to reach shelter before the rain came. They would have been astonished to learn how much she envied them.

Few would claim they were fortunate. Their days were hard and long, they were under constant threat of disaster—sudden accident or illness, the failure of the harvest, the whims of a landowner, or the caprices of the weather. But they laughed and joked as they went back to their modest dwellings, and the ties of affection, of love and family, were obvious.

She would never know such ties. Nearly twenty-five years old, plain, without any prospect of fortune, and with a shadow over her birth—who would ever think of marrying her?

Now the problem of her future was becoming more urgent with every day that passed. That her aunt was seriously ill could no longer be in doubt, though this was never admitted openly at Shelwood. Miss Shelwood refused to discuss the state of her health with anyone, least of all with her niece. But her attacks had been getting worse and more frequent for months, and yesterday’s had been the worst yet, though no one dared dispute Miss Shelwood’s assertion that it was simply a result of the excessive heat.

Francesca sighed. Years ago, when she had first come to Shelwood as a bewildered child, snatched away from everything she loved, she had looked to her aunt Cassandra, her mother’s sister, for consolation. What a mistake that had been! How often she had been snubbed, chastised, ignored, before she finally realised the harsh truth. Her aunt disliked her, and wanted as little as possible to do with her. Why this was so she had never been able to fathom. As a child she had asked her grandfather, but he had merely said that she was too young to understand. She had even screwed up her courage one day and had asked her aunt directly.