By Anne Stuart
Longing for the downfall of Nicholas Blackthorne, the infamous rake whom she holds accountable for the lack of her advantage and her family members fortune, Ghislaine de Lorgny is all of sudden kidnapped via her so much hated enemy.
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Additional resources for A Rose at Midnight
He assumed she didn't know. She was too young, too innocent to realize what was going on in his satyr's mind every time she took his hand, smiled up at him, kissed his cheek, and left a trail of delicate perfume behind. It could have gone on forever. Or at least until she was old enough, if fate hadn't conspired to change his life. To halt the right turn he'd made, sending him tumbling back into blackness and despair. Into evil. He'd known what the letter would contain the moment he'd recognized his Uncle Teasdale's handwriting.
No one could call Mamzelle elfin. Not when only the faintest of smiles ever touched her mobile mouth. Not when her dark brown eyes suggested tragedies the servants could only guess at. Not when the little joy and affection in her soul was reserved for the small black puppy that slept happily at her feet by the oversized chair. Ghislaine knew what they thought of her, and she was content with it, if with nothing else in her life. The servants were distrustful, wary, and jealous of her. But they wished her no ill, and that was enough.
Eventually Nicholas had given up trying, deciding that if he was doomed to disapproval and dislike from his father, then he'd do his best to deserve it. Not that his father had lived a sober, blameless life. There was bad blood in the Blackthornes, the madness ran deep, and Jepthah Blackthorne, in his diligence to appear untouched by the family instability, had carried sedate behavior to an extreme. And Nicholas had rebelled, flinging the dark family history in his father's face on every occasion, until finally, when he was close to graduating with honors, he'd made his move.
A Rose at Midnight by Anne Stuart