The Stranger I Married

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As always, huge thanks and hugs go out to my critique partner, Annette McCleave (www.AnnetteMcCleave.com). She keeps me on my toes, and I love her for it.

Much love goes out to my agents Deidre Knight and Pamela Harty. I am blessed, honored, and grateful to work with you both.

And the Allure Authors (www.AllureAuthors.com) for supporting me and my work. The Allure gals have a true sisterhood, and it means a great deal to me.

London, 1815

“Do you truly intend to steal your best friend’s mistress?”

Gerard Faulkner, the sixth Marquess of Grayson, kept his eyes on the woman in question, and smiled. Those who knew him well also knew that look, and its wicked portent. “I certainly do.”

“Dastardly,” Bartley muttered. “Too low even for you, Gray. Is it not sufficient to cuckold Sinclair? You know how Markham feels about Pel. He’s lost his head over her.”

Gray studied Lady Pelham with a connoisseur’s eye. There was no incertitude about her suitability for his needs. Beautiful and scandalous, he could not have designed a wife more suited to irritating his mother if he’d tried. Pel, as she was affectionately referred to, was of medium height, but stunningly curved, and built for a man’s pleasure. The auburn-haired widow of the late Earl of Pelham had a brazen sultriness that was addicting, or so rumor said. Her former lover, Lord Pearson, had gone into a long decline after she ended their affair.

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