The Secret Wallflower Society - Jillian Eaton Page 0,79
had gone out for the evening; Stephen was taking her to the theater. Calliope had offered to come keep Percy company, but she’d declined. Now she desperately wished she hadn’t.
“Who – who’s there?” It was an improvement, she supposed, that she didn’t simply turn on her heel and run screaming back into the house. A show of courage, however slight. Courage that rapidly crumbled to dust when the looming silhouette of a man emerged from behind the shrubbery and began walking straight towards her.
“S-stop right there!” she cried. “I – I have a knife, and I’ll use it! I swear I will!”
“Are you threatening me with a paint brush?” The stranger’s voice was very deep, very masculine, and very amused.
“N-no.” Not Andrew, she thought in relief. She would have recognized him at once. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t sent someone on his behalf. “It’s a knife. A very s-sharp knife.”
“It looks like a paintbrush to me,” the stranger drawled.
“Well, it’s not! So you should just - just run away!”
“I’m afraid I cannot do that.”
Percy sucked in a startled breath when the dark figure stepped out of the shadows, revealing a tall, ruggedly built man dressed in all black. He had a strong jaw covered in bristle, a full mouth that was pulled to one side in a lazy smirk, and the most piercing golden eyes she’d ever seen.
“W-why not?” she whispered.
He took one step towards her, then another. Her arm holding the paintbrush fell uselessly to her side when he gently cupped her chin and tilted her head back, forcing her to meet his wicked, wolfish gaze.
“Because you’re the Duchess of Glastonbury,” he said huskily, “and I’ve been hired to kidnap you.”
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form is forbidden without the written permission of the author.
Table of Contents
Description
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
The Secret Wallflower Society
About the Author
Domestic Abuse
Description
He's a dangerous bounty hunter hired to track her down...she's a beautiful duchess with a wounded heart. When these two meet, one thing is certain: the Devil of Duncraven is never letting her go.
When Percy was swept off her feet by a charming duke, she thought her fairytale dreams had finally come true…until her husband left her broken and bleeding in an alley. Rescued by two ladies who immediately take her under their wing, she has been a duchess in hiding ever since.
Lucas Black, the Devil of Duncraven, is a man who procures things…and he’s very good at his job. Hired by the Duke of Glastonbury to track down his missing wife, Lucas quickly finds Percy hiding in London. And just as quickly makes the regrettable error of losing his heart to the frail, violet-eyed beauty.
Betrayed by one man, Percy has no intention of ever trusting another. Especially the scoundrel who has been hired to kidnap her! Except Lucas isn’t as devilish as he’d like everyone to believe, Percy isn’t as delicate as she seems, and soon they find themselves falling in love. But danger lurks around the corner, because Glastonbury is still searching for Percy. Unfortunately for the duke, Lucas has no intention of letting her go…
Prologue
Persephone had always wanted to be a princess.
Not for wealth or gowns–although she did like a pretty dress. Not even for popularity. Especially not for popularity. No, her reasons for wanting to be a princess were quite specific.
Princesses had Prince Charmings.
It was, if not a rule, a very serious guideline.
And Persephone had been looking for her Prince Charming since she turned eight years of age and fell in love with the idea of being in love.
She could still remember the exact moment it happened. She’d been walking with her mother through Hyde Park. It had been the middle of April, and the air had smelled of cherry blossoms and possibility. There was no season Persephone liked more than spring, especially after a long winter spent cooped up inside her parent’s modest townhome in Berkley Square, and she’d been eager to stretch her young legs.
“Persephone, you need to slow down,” her mother had ordered when Persephone tried to rush ahead. “Proper young ladies do