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Wyrafinowane kreacje błyskotliwej i ambitnej stylistki Marcelline Noirot powoli podbijają serca londyńskiej arystokracji. Marcelline wie, że nic nie przyniosłoby większego splendoru jej butikowi niż patronat najpiękniejszej panny w mieście, lady Clare Fairfax, mającej niebawem zaręczyć się z księciem Clevedonem. Zdobycie szlachetnie urodzonej i poważanej klientki zapewniłoby powodzenie butikowi Maison Noirot i bogactwo rodzinie Marcelline. Lecz by zdobyć serce damy, Marcelline musi najpierw przekonać do siebie Clevedona, którego wymagania są niebotyczne, zasady moralne zaś… przeciwnie. Nagroda wydaje się warta ryzyka, lecz książę potrafi uwodzić równie mistrzowsko, jak szykowne kreacje madame Noirot. Iskra pożądania, która między nimi zapłonie, niebawem przerodzi się w skandaliczny spektakl, który rozpali całe miasto.
400 pages, Paperback
First published June 28, 2011







She tasted like forbidden fruit.
She tasted, in truth, like trouble.

"Think for once, your Grace, of someone other than yourself."

Now he wasn't dreaming.
Now he was alive, finally, after sleepwalking for a lifetime.

"He was a predator. So was she."
”Stop taking care of me!”
He turned back to look at her. “Stop being childish,” he said. “Are you afraid I’ll ply you with food in order to seduce you? Think again. Have you looked in a mirror lately? And may I remind you that I was the one holding your head while you were sick last night. Not exactly the most arousing sight I’ve ever seen. In fact, I can’t remember what I ever saw in you. I only want to feed you so you’ll be well and get out of my cabin and out of my life.”
“I want to be out of your life, too,” she said.
“Right,” he said. “Until it’s time to pay my duchess’s dressmaking bills.”
“Yes,” she said. “Exactly.”
“Good,” he said. “That suits me very well.”
He went to the door, opened it, went out, and slammed it behind him.
“Surprise?” she said. “There’s an understatement. Have you taken leave of your senses?”
Yes.
“I was worried about you,” he said. “When you left Paris so suddenly, I thought a catastrophe had occurred. Or a murder. Have you murdered anybody, by the way? Not that I would dream of criticizing, but—“
“I left Paris to get away from you,” she said.
“Well, that didn’t work.”
