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Miranda Harlake's only chance to escape the detestable match her parents are arranging is a sham betrothal to her best friend, Peter, who proposes solely to save her from a loveless marriage. She gratefully accepts, though both know they'll never wed.
Piqued by her parents' scheming, Miranda secretly attends a masked ball and dances with a fascinating stranger all night. Upon discovering her partner was the insufferable George Rockford, she tries to forget the romantic evening they shared.
George, lonely despite his popularity and roguish ways, is intrigued by Miranda but she's apparently immune to his charms.
Miranda must listen to her heart and find courage to be honest with everyone—especially herself—if for once she's going to fulfill her own dreams.
Read an Excerpt
As Miranda approached the drawing room she heard men’s voices, and neither of them was her father’s. She guessed Mr. Tolwood had stopped by and brought someone with him, but when she strode into the room she nearly gasped aloud.
George and Ebenezer Rockford stood chatting with her parents, glasses of sherry in their hands. So this was why her mother had insisted she change. Nobody looked Miranda’s way when she entered the room and she wanted to tiptoe out and send Cassandra down with a message that she was ill. Very ill. She sighed. It would never work. Mentally preparing herself for an atrocious evening, she walked to her father’s side.
“Ah, here she is at last!” Mr. Harlake said, taking her arm.
Miranda fixed a smile on her face as he steered her over to stand beside Ebenezer.
“You remember Mr. Rockford, don’t you, Miranda?” Mr. Harlake asked, eyes twinkling.
“Yes, of course. Good evening.” Miranda hadn’t seen him up close in a long time. He had dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a short beard. She’d never been fond of beards.
Mr. Rockford took her hand and kissed it. “Good evening to you, Miss Harlake.”
She went to pull her hand away, but he showed no sign of relinquishing it.
“Call her Miranda. So much friendlier,” Mrs. Harlake said with a wide smile.
“Then she must call me Ebenezer.” He motioned to George. “You know my nephew, George? Why, you two must have gone to school together.”
Miranda was glad to remove her hand from Ebenezer’s grip as she turned to face George.
About the Author:
Kate Ellington grew up in a woodsy New England town where summer days at the lake seemed to last forever. She read her first historical romance at age eleven when a teacher challenged her to find a book in the library written by an author she’d never heard of. Thus began a life-long love of love stories.
After graduating from college with an art degree she settled in the Pacific Northwest, where she currently resides with her family.
Kate wrote her first romance when she was sixteen, then set her pen down for years until another story floated into her head out of the clear blue sky. She jotted it down, just for fun, but soon it took on a life of its own.
