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214 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 2000
The bride was haggard in crumpled satin. The groom was heroically handsome in his buckskin breeches. Windham’s auburn hair was freshly combed and he had found time to get his boots shined. Still, he smelled of horse, which somehow made Aurora feel better. The earl was a mere man, not a visiting deity.
Instead of her wedding bouquet, which had been trampled in the earlier debacle and kept too long out of water at any rate, Aurora clasped a paper sack of peppermint drops. Lord Windham had returned with it, along with the special license, to settle her stomach, he’d said. Aurora clasped that small kindness to her heart, for courage.
While the vicar wended his slow way through the wedding service once more, Windham patted her hand and whispered, “I promise not to beat you, you know. My first wife died of the typhus. I was not in the same country at the time.”