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A Lord's Chance
A Lord's Chance
A Lord's Chance
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A Lord's Chance

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After her first romance ends in disaster, Miss Isabelle Strathmore vows never to fall in love again. She will travel, certainly, and see the world, but it will be a spinster’s life for her. She has learned the most painful lesson of all—that her heart simply cannot be trusted.

Gavin Reed, the Earl of Jasper, is unexpectedly charmed by Isabelle. Past encounters have made him wary of taking a chance on love, but by the end of the Grand Tour, he is determined to make Miss Strathmore his wife. But fate has more in store than either of them guesses.

Beneath the Mediterranean sun, can Isabelle and Lord Jasper find their happily ever after before disaster strikes?

LanguageEnglish
Release dateMar 3, 2019
ISBN9781680130782
A Lord's Chance

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    A Lord's Chance - Anthea Lawson

    Chapter 1

    Southern coast of Spain, October, 1852


    The smell of deck tar warming under the Mediterranean sun made Miss Isabelle Strathmore smile beneath the brim of her second-best bonnet. She was shipboard once again and in the climate she loved best. Despite the memories lodged within her like hard pebbles, she could not help but surrender to the dry light and warm air as the steamship Floramay turned south, toward Morocco.

    Even her stalwart companion, Mrs. Hodges, had given a satisfied harrumph at their first sight of orange groves reaching down to the sea, the heady fragrance borne offshore so that the air was a mix of salt and sweet.

    Look there. Mrs. Hodges pointed toward the shore with the tip of her ever-present black umbrella.

    In the distance the white buildings of Cadiz shone in the sunshine, the pale towers of the cathedral clear against the blue sky.

    Isabelle turned her back to the railing, her mood dimming.

    I shall not recall it.

    Five years ago, she had argued with her cousin in those very streets, her foolish heart set on a course for disaster.

    But she was older now, and wiser, moving through the world with a guarded heart and open eyes. This journey to the Mediterranean, she would not fall in love, nor suffer the awful consequences of that emotion.

    At least the sea has learned to behave, instead of plunging up and down in a most nauseating fashion. Mrs. Hodges frowned at the water.

    I’m glad you’ve found your sea legs at last, Isabelle said.

    During their last trip out, her companion had often been laid low by seasickness. But despite her curmudgeonly exterior, Mrs. Hodges possessed the soul of an adventurer. Why else had she agreed to accompany Isabelle on a Grand Tour culminating in Greece?

    I don’t know if your family will ever be done gallivanting about the globe, the older woman had said. What with your father’s scientific inclinations, I’m sure he’ll end up traveling to the farthest reaches of the globe before he’s done. Botanists!

    Isabelle had not suggested that Mrs. Hodges stay at home instead of accompanying her on this trip, of course. It would be rather an insult, and besides, Isabelle was still of an age where a companion was necessary.

    Maybe in a few more years, Isabelle herself would take on the role of companion or governess to some gently bred young lady. She’d never marry, of course. Even though her parents enjoyed a happy life together, she knew that path was not for her.

    She let out a quiet breath and turned back to the railing, staring pensively down at the glittering waves. The sea was as impenetrable as her own future—the surface clear, but the depths beyond quite impossible to look into. Nothing but blue-green shadows shading into black.

    Miss Strathmore! A man’s voice rang out across the deck.

    Isabelle glanced up to see a sandy-haired fellow striding toward her. It was Lord Weston, who, upon coming aboard in Lisbon, had commenced flirting outrageously with her. While she found it a bit annoying, he was an amiable gentleman and harmless enough.

    He was accompanied by the dark and quiet Lord Jasper, who, like a shadow, seemed to follow his friend about as though he had no choice in the matter. Where Lord Weston was a boisterous, happy retriever, Lord Jasper was an aloof black cat who hardly deigned to glance at the humans among whom he found himself.

    Good day, Isabelle said as the gentlemen joined her at the railing.

    It very much is, now that we have discovered you in it, Lord Weston said. Are you planning to go ashore this afternoon? I most fervently hope you say yes so that we might accompany you. He shot a look at his friend, who was staring at the water and seemingly paying no attention to the conversation at hand. What do you think, Gav? A jaunt to Morocco will be just the thing.

    Certainly. Lord Jasper flicked a disinterested glance at Isabelle, his dark-gray eyes barely resting for a moment on her face before he looked away again.

    What an irritating fellow!

    While she was not overfond of the fawning attentions of Lord Weston, at least she was accustomed to such regard. It was unpleasantly novel to be treated as though she were scarcely there.

    She’d gathered that Lord Gavin Reed, the Earl of Jasper, was traveling with his friend in the wake of some unfortunate personal circumstance. Unlike Mrs. Hodges, he apparently had not been softened in the least by the sunshine and balmy air.

    When we dock in Tangier, we’ll be sure to look for you, Isabelle said to Lord Weston, pointedly ignoring his friend. Two could play that game, after all.

    And if Lord Jasper’s dark good looks reminded her too much of a certain other lord on a certain other journey, then it was all to the good that they had as little to do with each other as possible. The last thing Isabelle needed was another reminder that her heart could never be trusted.

    Gavin Reed, the Earl of Jasper, frowned at his friend Lord Weston as they returned to their elegantly appointed cabin.

    In my opinion, you should stay away from that young lady, Gavin said. A fortune hunter if ever I’ve seen one, and she’s old enough to be getting desperate.

    William Tuttle, who bore the title of Viscount Weston, laughed. "You’re just afraid that any pretty

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