So how do Rosalinde, a country vicar's daughter, and Julian, a duke, manage to meet in the first place? Well, it goes something like this:
~~~~~
"You may as well face the truth." Rosalinde Hewitt dabbed the last of her tears with a lace-edged handkerchief. "You have been jilted."
She gazed numbly at the inn's comfortably furnished private parlor, having memorized its contents while waiting for her betrothed to return from London. A fire continued to crackle cheerfully in a corner of the room, as if mocking her earlier optimism for this ill-fated elopement.
Rosalinde allowed herself one last sniffle and then she stood, straightening her shoulders. There was no reason to put off her return home any longer. In truth, there was nothing she wanted more.
She gave the ribbons of her jaunty chip-straw bonnet a determined tug. Oh how she wished her hands were tightening around the neck of the absent Mr. Moulton instead.
She merely needed to retrieve the small portmanteau containing her few essentials. A rather muscular ostler had brought it in—was it only hours ago?—but she had been too busy planning her upcoming excursions in London to concentrate on anything else.
Not only had those hopes failed to materialize, her leather bag had seemingly disappeared too.
Rosalinde paced the private parlor, her exasperation growing with each unsuccessful attempt to locate the missing luggage. She was tempted to leave it, and return for it on the morrow. But if anyone were to see the bag, and learn of her misadventure…
She set to searching even more diligently. Perhaps she could ask the ostler for assistance. Or the maid who had given her a conspiratorial wink while bringing in some refreshment earlier.
Rosalinde opened the door to seek them out—and immediately plowed into an unexpected obstacle.
A hint of bay rum and starch tickled her nose, and no wonder, since her face was nearly buried in a snowy-white cravat, thanks to the arms that encircled her so protectively. She tilted her head back to see, not Mr. Moulton, but a gentleman with a strong, well-defined jaw, an aquiline nose, and sculptured cheekbones. Her heart beat faster at the handsome sight, until she saw his finely shaped lips tipped up in a smile.
Even worse, his eyes were dancing with merriment.
~~~~~
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