“Hugged by a silver gauze gown lent to her by Mrs. Stark —or Tess, rather—she felt as effervescent as her drink. She’d been fortunate her cousin’s friend had come to her aid, since her own post-mourning wardrobe lacked any festive gowns. Indeed, she had never owned a gown quite this festive. And only now, on her second glass of champagne, had she begun to feel comfortable with the low decolletage that seemed to prevail in Paris. “Have you met Mr. Douglas?” Tristan whispered, leaning close to her... ear. The warmth of his breath made her skin tingle. “Felicity introduced him to me while you were speaking to General Lafayette.” Only too aware of how handsome he looked in formal black, she resisted the urge to skim a glance down the length of his body. “Yes, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting him, as well. In fact, we had an interesting chat about the business of writing.” He took a sip of claret, staring across the drawing room from over the rim of his glass. “There’s something odd about the man.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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