WHAT THE RAKE NEEDED WAS A WIFE. AND SHE WAS JUST THE MISS TO MARRY HIM OFF!
Tall as a gatepost, with hair that put carrots to shame, Cecilia wasn't waiting for love. But neither would she marry without it, as her loathsome guardians insisted she must. Her solution: escape to London and into the very comfortable employment of the dowager duchess of Kelthorpe.
Yet the sight of her employer's dashing grandson sent a shock of recognition through Cecilia's fluttering heart. Wasn't this the Major Trelwyn who had once mistaken her for a lightskirt? It had been an embarrassing case of mistaken identity that had ended in a practical joke--at his expense!
The only way to avoid the man, and keep her present position intact, was to find him a wife. There was but one problem. Cecilia was falling in love....
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