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Chapter One

Eva

Edward, Marquess of Harborough, was certain of two things

One, he looked dapper in his new evening kit if he did say so himself

And two, love made fools of men and women alike He only had to look to his parents for proof of that

Which hy he’d agreed to hter of an earl—and “a perfectly adequate player of the harpsichord”—she was doubtless a suitable wife of excellent lineage and appropriately bland temperament

A wouarded affections

Thanking his valet, Edward exited his dressing roo stair

That hen he heard it A curse, whispered in a feminine voice Followed by another curse And another—

“Damn you, you mustn’t—bloody hell, not on the mouth—your smell, Christ in heaven—”

Edward’s heart thumped What knave presumed to assault this poor—if foulmouthed—woman?

He shot the cuffs of his black satin jacket, curling his arms He hoped it would not co necessary to save a woman in distress

Rounding the last few steps, he drew up short when his eyes fell on said knave

It was his Irish wolfhound, Ophelia She was standing on her hind legs in thean unfamiliar blond woman’s face Massive paws propped on the woman’s shoulders

His arain at the sound of the woh, the kind he’d known only as a child

The woently on Ophelia’s ears as she kissed the top of her head

“See, you bloody beast, that is the appropriate way to greet a stranger” That laugh, again, when Ophelia replied with another lick to the wo it a shake “Ah, what a sweet, set on just fine, you and I I’ or other But you, my dear, may call me Sophie”

Edward found his tongue and lips silently for the name Sophie

Only he must’ve said it out loud, because the woman turned her head and looked at him His sto with intelligence Mischief, too

And her