To Know a Lord's Kiss: A Lord's Kiss, #2

By Summer Hanford

A single kiss… real or false, either way, she is ruined.

 

Francine isn't in love with Baron Erwin, but at the end of her third season, he's the only gentleman who has shown any interest in her. Come what may, she must find a husband. When rumor of a scandalous kiss between Francine and an unnamed duke reaches the baron's ears, even Baron Erwin abandons her. In spite of the rumor, Francine has never been kissed, and now she fears she never will be.

• Language: English
• Publisher: scarsdalepublishing
• Release date: Jul 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201326357

Book preview

Chapter One

Francine sailed into the ballroom in a frilly mint-green gown and a haze of triumph. The previous evening, Baron Erwin Bailey had danced with her, twice. Then, that afternoon, he’d called with a bouquet of hothouse flowers and the assurance he wished to dance with her again tonight. By tomorrow evening, Francine expected to be engaged. As she was halfway through her third season, the baron’s attention was a keen source of relief. After all, no one else seemed to want her...especially not the one man she wished did.

She glided through the glittering ballroom, leaving her proud mama behind. Lords, ladies, misses and gentlemen turned to observe her. Francine couldn’t hide her smile, but marshaled her lips into a sublime curve. A victorious smile would be a bit premature, and a touch vulgar. Something her schoolmate, Prudence, would do, not Francine.

A few of the gentlemen guffawed. Behind lace fans and gloved hands, feminine titters rose. A thread of unease stirred, coiling through her. She glanced about, suddenly needing the reassurance of her childhood friend to debase her of the notion she was being laughed at, but Lawrence was nowhere to be seen. She strove not to frown. Lawrence attended every event she attended. His absence doubled her unease.

The crowd parted. Across the room, standing beside one of the sweeping columns that held the gold painted ceiling aloft, she sighted Baron Erwin. Dressed in a daring combination of puce and silver that brought out the sallowness of his skin, he was turned toward her, frowning. Firming her smile against a tremor of worry, she went to meet him.

He watched her approach, but made no move to intercept her. When Francine reached him, she dipped in a low curtsy. She leaned forward on her descent, as she’d observed other women do. It was common knowledge men liked to avail themselves of the view the obeisance offered. That was likely the hidden origin of the act.

Popping back up to her full height, an ungainly four inches over the acceptable five and a half feet a woman should dare achieve, Francine offered a carefully sublime expression. She wondered if the baron appreciated that she’d worn her coppery locks in dangling curls, not piled atop her head, so as not to appear taller than he was.

Lord Erwin, how lovely to see you, she said brightly. Thank you again for the flowers.

He cleared his throat and lifted his dun-colored eyes from the view to meet hers. Yes, well, about those. I’d prefer you don’t mention them. In fact, forget I brought them.

Francine blinked. I beg your pardon, my lord?

The flowers. A mistake, that. Terrible one. Shouldn’t lead a girl on, I know. My apologies. Best forgotten and put behind us.

You’re— Realizing that contraction came out as a loud squeak, garnering looks, she marshaled her shock and began again, low and quiet. You’re breaking it off with me?

Nothing to break off. He dusted invisible lint from his coat sleeve. "If you