She recognized that icy blond profile. That height, those shoulders, and the adamantine firmness of that uncompromising chiseled jaw. It was James Beresford, Viscount St. Clare. Lord St. Clare was the eldest of Lady Kate’s three older brothers. He was also, quite possibly, the handsomest gentleman Hannah had ever beheld. So disturbingly handsome that, from the minute they’d been introduced to each other, Hannah had found it difficult to look him in the eye.
