IMPROPER
SEDUCTION
MARY WINE
BRAVA BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 2011 Mary Wine
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eISBN-13: 978-0-7582-6814-3
eISBN-10: 0-7582-6814-9
First Kensington Trade Paperback Printing: January 2011
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Printed in the United States of America
Contents
Her mother was nervous.
Bridget Newbury considered her mother with curiosity. Lady Connolly was normally the perfect model of poise.
“Good morrow, Mother.”
Jane turned in a flurry of wool skirts. She was wearing one of her very modest Sabbath dresses. There was no lace upon it, the only trim formed by contrasting persimmon wool cut into thin strips and used to border the brown wool that made up the garment. She even wore an over-partlet that covered every inch of her chest, all the way to her neck.
“Good, you are here.”
“I came straight after receiving your summons, Mother.”
Jane smiled. A gentle curving of her lips that was genuine. She held out her hands, and Bridget moved forward to clasp them. Even through their gloves, the embrace of fingers and palms was warm.
“Of course you did. You have ever been an obedient child. God blessed me with your sweet heart.” Her mother’s smile faded. The hands grasping Bridget’s tightened momentarily before releasing their hold. Jane clasped her fingers together in a practiced pose, one she used as mistress of the house. With the maids always observing them, appearances were important. Bridget held her chin steady and waited for her mother to speak.
“I have word from your father.”
Her mother’s voice hardened. Bridget knew the tone. It was one that often showed itself when letters from her father arrived. Lord Connolly resided at the court of Henry the Eighth. Her sire often sent home detailed instructions on how the family was to conduct themselves. In the quickly changing climate of the aging king’s court, her mother was always sure to instill a deep respect for each sentence her husband penned. It was the wisest course of action given the king’s history of beheading those nobles who displeased him.
“A marriage has been arranged for you.”
Bridget was startled. “Do you mean that Sir Curan has returned from France?”
Her mother’s face drew into an expression that Bridget knew too well. It was the look her mother always wore
