Charles Huntley, Lord Ryevale, infamous
rogue…and government agent.
In unsettled times, with England at war
with France, Ryevale is assigned to covertly protect a politician’s daughter,
Miss Verity Verrinder. To keep Verity under his watchful eye, Ryevale plots a
campaign of seduction that no woman can resist– except it seems, Miss
Verrinder. In order to gain her trust Ryevale enters Verity’s world of charity
meetings and bookshops…where the unexpected happens and he falls in love with
his charge.
When Lord Ryevale turns his bone-melting
charms on her, Verity questions his lordship’s motivation. But with her
controlling father abroad, Verity wishes to explore London and reluctantly
accepts Ryevale’s companionship. As the compelling attraction between them
strengthens, Verity is shattered to learn her instincts are correct after all –
and Ryevale is not what he seems. If Lord Ryevale can
lie, then so can she…but with
disastrous consequences.
Excerpt:
Verity closed
the library door and wilted. With
toe-curling embarrassment she recalled her prudish disapproval and cringed
afresh. Why couldn't she have appeared
worldly and calm, instead of behaving like a stuttering, prissy
schoolgirl. And why Lord Ryevale, of all
people? If she hadn't been distracted by
plans to confront her father, then she wouldn't have been caught so off
guard. Verity took comfort in that it
was unlikely their paths would cross again.
Clutching Cicero
From his wide chest and broad
shoulders, to the square jaw and strong cheekbones, Ryevale filled her mind; so
when she had received her father's note to fetch his copy of Cicero
After three laps of the garden, her
cheeks had cooled and her mind felt more ordered.
Tonight she would seize the moment;
before her father left on business, she would appeal for more freedom. Her speech planned out, she was ready to face
him.
Verity hurried along the corridor,
pausing outside the study door to straighten her hair. This was it: now or
never. She knocked and, at a gruff
acknowledgment from the other side, entered.
Between the gloomy room and being a
little nearsighted, it took Verity a moment to assimilate three men were
present: her father, the prime minister and a figure in the shadows.
"Father. Lord Liverpool." She squinted, trying to identify their guest. As Ryevale stepped forward, her pulse hit a
crescendo. Alarm fluttered in her
breast, threatening her ability to breathe.
"My lord." How her
voice held steady, she had no idea.
"Good evening."
He stood at ease, which irritated
her. Why did her wits scatter like
pigeons before a cat when he smiled in that bone-melting way? Annoyed at herself, she answered his smile
with a glare before turning to her father.
"Your book, Father."
"Ah, Verity. Thank you."
Her father took a cursory glance at
the spine then set the Cicero
Verity longed to escape, to be able
to breathe and to release the tension swelling in her chest.
"If that's all, I won't intrude
further." She felt Ryevale's gaze,
hot against her skin, and some unnamed sensation coiled and tightened inside.
"Ah, Verity, let me introduce
my guest."
"We've already met," she replied tartly.
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LINKS
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About the Author
Grace Elliot leads a double life as a
veterinarian by day and author of historical romance by night. Grace lives near
London and is passionate about history, romance and cats! She is housekeeping
staff to five cats, two sons, one husband and a bearded dragon (not necessarily
listed in order of importance). “Verity’s Lie” is Grace’s fourth novel.
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