A Promise by Daylight
A notorious rake… After a near-fatal accident, the virile and charming Duke of Winston vowed to reform his ways. But for an infamous rogue, it's easier said than done. Hiring a personal medic, he sets about recovering from his injuries—and avoiding temptation at all costs. Little does Winston know, the one temptation he can't resist might be hiding before his very eyes.A tenacious innocent… Without a friend or farthing in the world, posing as a man is Miss Millicent Germain's only chance to achieve her dream of becoming a physician. But working for the decadent duke is trickier than no-nonsense Millie anticipated—and his touch threatens to awaken her deepest desires. By daylight, the two are at odds…but by night, their attraction may prove undeniable.
Читать A Promise by Daylight онлайн беплатно
‘A fearless debut! Alison DeLaine pens a stand-out romance.’
—New York Times bestselling author Julia London
‘Unusual and engaging … DeLaine keeps the pages turning.’
—Publishers Weekly on A Gentleman ‘Til Midnight
ALISON DELAINE
A Gentleman ‘Til Midnight
A Promise by Daylight
A Wedding by Dawn
ALISON DELAINE lives in rural Arizona, where she can often be found driving a dented old pickup truck out to her mining claim in the desert. When she’s not busy striking it rich, waiting on spoiled pets, or keeping her husband in line, she is happily putting characters through the wringer.
To Christie Craig and Faye Hughes, in honour of the Quiet Room
Contents
THE INFAMOUS DUKE OF WINSTON’S brush with death had been on every tongue in Paris for days, and as Millicent Germain waited to be shown upstairs to his chamber, she half hoped the crumbling building that nearly killed him might have also damaged his privates.
The duke’s Parisian salon was empty of people but filled with gilded furniture and nudes, nudes, nudes. Everywhere nudes: statuettes, portraits, vast paintings and plasters on the ceiling. There was nowhere to rest one’s eyes.
Winston does like to have his fun, Philomena had laughed, even as she’d waved away Millie’s violent objections to the employment Philomena had found for her. Forced her into, rather, but that was neither here nor there now. The employment would be a disaster—there was no doubt about that—but by the time it was finished, Millie would have what she wanted.
A bawdy statue of frolicking nymphs on a nearby table, and the duke’s renowned penchant for debauchery, mocked Philomena’s description of him:
Intelligent. About what subjects? Copulation?
Respected. By whom? Libertines?
Wealthy. And therein lay the crux of the matter. His money, in exchange for her medical services during his journey to Greece.
Well, in exchange for Mr. Miles Germain’s medical services. She may be desperate, but she wasn’t mad. His Grace’s household was no place to be perceived as female. Thankfully, her simple features became entirely nondescript against the background of a bagwig and coat.
This wouldn’t be the first time she’d passed for a man.
She smoothed her palms across her breeches, anticipating the butler’s return at any moment, and glanced up at a pair of entwined lovers on the ceiling. It seemed almost certain she would be required to witness one disgusting exhibition after the next, all the way to Greece.
Beggars can’t be choosers. And she was very much a beggar. But in a matter of weeks she would be a stone’s throw from Malta and the surgical school that waited there, with enough wages from this employment to begin the life that only days ago she’d believed was lost to her forever.
All she had to do was restore a spoiled, depraved peer of the realm to health. Which would be a simple matter, because he’d probably exaggerated his injuries in the first place.
If he hadn’t, she would end up coddling His Grace’s ego, even as she attempted to prevent his condition from declining, which she could never accomplish if he was constantly indulging in wild fornication parties, as he was rumored to do—
“His Grace will see you now, Mr. Germain,” the butler announced from the doorway behind her.
Millie bolted from the chair and turned to face the tall, fair-skinned man who’d introduced himself as Mr. Harris. There was still time to change her mind, flee to Philomena and beg for help finding a different employment.
You don’t want a different employment. You want to go to Greece.
“Very good,” she said a little hoarsely, and cleared her throat. “Thank you.”
She tugged the sleeves of her jacket, glancing down, double-checking that her waistcoat was properly buttoned and her curves were truly concealed. Then she picked up her medical bag and followed the butler out of the salon.
They were halfway up the main staircase, with its elaborate, polished stone balustrade, when a shriek of laughter drifted from somewhere in the recesses of the upper floors.
Mr. Harris didn’t seem to notice.
“I understand the stones from the crumbling building facade resulted in numerous injuries to His Grace’s person,” Millie said to him.
“Indeed,” Mr. Harris confirmed. “His Grace was most fortunate not to have received the kind of fatal blow that other poor soul received.”
“Yes. Very fortunate.” According to the stories, the man walking just behind the duke had been struck directly on the head and died immediately, God rest his soul. “Are you aware of whether any of His Grace’s injuries in particular have...affected his mode of living?”
