I love to write stories about strong women, but The Duke and Miss Amabel Hawkins is by far my favorite. She not only manages a large estate with ease, she is horrified the duke would allow his own property to go to ruin. When he dresses her down for “meddling” in his affairs, she can only assume he has lost his mind. Growing up without a mother and not much of a father, Amabel never dreams the person out of line is she. Women were thought to be mentally handicapped during the 1800’s, but Amabel is convinced the duke is insane.
How much different is society today? It’s startling to realize women vote only recently in history. How many ways can you think of that have changed the way women are treated—and how many ways can you think of that the unfair treatment of women still remains.
The Duke and Miss Amabel Hawkins’ story has a happily ever after ending, after a mighty struggle and much compromising on both sides. I hope you enjoy their journey to partnership and eventually to love, even as you despair of ever getting a fast ride on Fat Pony.
Can an arrogant duke overcome his prejudice against a beautiful but managing female in time to find true love and happiness? The Duke arrives home to find his estate under the firm control of a beautiful but managing female. His suspicions are fueled by his recent task of spy-hunting and he wonders if Amabel Hawkins is just who she seems. While a dastardly spy lurks, a wicked man poses as her cousin threatening to take over the guardianship of her young brother. Amabel might be falling in love, but she knows for certain the duke would never approve of a meddlesome woman, and she decides to flee his estate. Will the duke finally realize the true value of the woman he loves or will his prejudice ruin his chances forever?
Fatigue and the effects of the brandy on top of the ale now gave his gait a distinct wobble. He chuckled, amused at his condition.
As he reached for the portrait of great Uncle Barney, he lurched into the back of the red leather sofa in front of the cosy fire. “Deuce take it,” he exclaimed when a rounded arm rolled into view. He spotted the gentle curve of a hip and walked around to the front, where he spied a tumbled haze of dark curls hiding a face. It is indeed a female—a sleeping female.
Who was she? The gown was too rich for his household staff. Curious, he knelt beside the sofa.
“Only one way to find out,” he whispered and moved one dark curl. He sat back, satisfied when a handsome face swam into view. She sighed and rolled over, revealing a generous figure and a pair of rosy lips. She might be Sleeping Beauty—but not one of my relatives. He leaned over and kissed those tempting lips.
As he lingered there, she sighed and came partially awake. He could not resist. He deepened the kiss and sounds of satisfaction like yum and umm came from those delicious lips. Her hand stroked his face, then reached around his head to pull him closer. Delighted with this turn of events, the Duke of Westerton complied enthusiastically and extended an arm around a slender waist. How much of the ale and brandy had he imbibed? Dizziness overcame his senses as he slid down on the floor and knew no more.
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