A blimey ten and five was what Bristol Latimer needed.
It would be justly deserved for falling in love with a bloody nob. Oh, she couldn’t deny it. . .though she had tried. The more she denied her love, the more it grew. Her mind whispered that it was hopeless. . .but her heart wouldn’t listen.
Maxwell Chappel, The Earl of Barrow, wasn’t like most men in his position. The particulars didn’t matter when it came to the woman he loved. No longer was he a rake, scoundrel, or womanizer. Loving Bristol had changed him. All he desired now was to spend the rest of his days with her.
It was bloody unfortunate. . .and inconvenient. . .when the dead couldn’t see fit to stay buried.
