The Irresistible Urge to Fall for Your Enemy (Dearly Beloathed, #1)

by Brigitte Knightley

“You do realise,” said Wellesley, “that you’ve only got one man here.” “No,” said Aurienne, with ruefulness born of sad truth. “I’ve got a monster.”

Aurienne tossed her shoes to the side and took Mordaunt’s hand. “Very well. I will dance as nature intended.” “Barefoot, tipsy, and with flowers in your hair.” “You paint a lovely picture.” “You are a lovely picture.” “I thought I was an uptight little fusspot?” Aurienne was rewarded by one of Mordaunt’s brilliant smiles. “Do you know,” he said, “sometimes I don’t mind being wrong?”