“Verena had not changed in the least. So fresh she looked, in the sprigged muslin gown, honey-gold loose curls spilling onto her shoulders from under a chip-straw hat, decorated with knots of tiny artificial blossoms. She was exquisite, like a china doll. That same smiling mask adorned the perfection of her features, dispensing equal attention—and no favours, thank God—to each of the several males inhabiting her orbit. She was standing under an archway, the grace of her figure as elegant as the ...setting. Denzell felt decidedly odd, the warmth giving way to a feeling he could not recognise. It was not, however, a feeling he could enjoy, for it was causing him a good deal of discomfort. Why had he come here? Verena Chaceley was not going to welcome his advent. He must be mad. Where the devil was he to find the gall to approach her? He had not thought himself to be such a lily-livered poltroon. He had not been so fainthearted since his green youth, before he had confidence in his ability to secure a lady’s interest.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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