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374 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 2003
In fact, she was beginning to perspire―which was the epitome of unladylike behavior. He led the way past an erotic sculpture of a beautiful young woman holding a pigeon. "He has been up since five, working in the library. Will you be staying for breakfast?"
Francesca was realizing that she was perspiring, a very unladylike action, as Alfred spoke.
"Alone at last," Hart said, his tone teasing.
But he had stepped closer to her, and from her perspective, he was always a tower of male strength and virility, and she jumped away, gripping her reticule so tightly that her fingers ached.
His eyes widened. "My dear, you are as nervous as a doe about to be gunned down. I am hardly a hunter with you in my sights. And you did call on me," he added, amused.
"But you are a hunter, even where I am concerned," she said tersely.
His smile faded. "Francesca, if I were preying upon you as I have other women, you'd be on that sofa right now."
By now, I've become quite fond of Francesca, which is something I wasn't entirely certain would happen after the first book.
She remains capable of spectacularly questionable decisions, but there's a difference between a heroine whose recklessness exists solely to manufacture trouble and one whose flaws genuinely belong to her character. Joyce is increasingly achieving the latter.
And Calder! My preference for him has ceased to be a preference and become something approaching a personal cause. Francesca, please do try to keep up.