Alison DeLaine

A Promise by Daylight


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      ‘A fearless debut! Alison DeLaine pens a stand-out romance.’

      —New York Times bestselling author Julia London

      ‘Unusual and engaging … DeLaine keeps the pages turning.’

      —Publishers Weekly on A Gentleman ‘Til Midnight

      ALISON DELAINE

      A Gentleman ‘Til Midnight

      A Promise by Daylight

      A Wedding by Dawn

      ALISON DELAINE lives in rural Arizona, where she can often be found driving a dented old pickup truck out to her mining claim in the desert. When she’s not busy striking it rich, waiting on spoiled pets, or keeping her husband in line, she is happily putting characters through the wringer.

      Alison DeLaine

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MILLS & BOON

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      To Christie Craig and Faye Hughes, in honour of the Quiet Room

      Contents

       Cover

       About the Author

       Title Page

       Dedication

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

       CHAPTER FOURTEEN

       CHAPTER FIFTEEN

       CHAPTER SIXTEEN

       CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

       CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

       CHAPTER NINETEEN

       CHAPTER TWENTY

       CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

       CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

       CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

       CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

       CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

       CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

       CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

       CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

       CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

       CHAPTER THIRTY

       CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

       EPILOGUE

       Endpage

       Copyright

      THE INFAMOUS DUKE OF WINSTON’S brush with death had been on every tongue in Paris for days, and as Millicent Germain waited to be shown upstairs to his chamber, she half hoped the crumbling building that nearly killed him might have also damaged his privates.

      The duke’s Parisian salon was empty of people but filled with gilded furniture and nudes, nudes, nudes. Everywhere nudes: statuettes, portraits, vast paintings and plasters on the ceiling. There was nowhere to rest one’s eyes.

      Winston does like to have his fun, Philomena had laughed, even as she’d waved away Millie’s violent objections to the employment Philomena had found for her. Forced her into, rather, but that was neither here nor there now. The employment would be a disaster—there was no doubt about that—but by the time it was finished, Millie would have what she wanted.

      A bawdy statue of frolicking nymphs on a nearby table, and the duke’s renowned penchant for debauchery, mocked Philomena’s description of him:

      Intelligent. About what subjects? Copulation?

      Respected. By whom? Libertines?

      Wealthy. And therein lay the crux of the matter. His money, in exchange for her medical services during his journey to Greece.

      Well, in exchange for Mr. Miles Germain’s medical services. She may be desperate, but she wasn’t mad. His Grace’s household was no place to be perceived as female. Thankfully, her simple features became entirely nondescript against the background of a bagwig and coat.

      This wouldn’t be the first time she’d passed for a man.

      She smoothed her palms across her breeches, anticipating the butler’s return at any moment, and glanced up at a pair of entwined lovers on the ceiling. It seemed almost certain she would be required to witness one disgusting exhibition after the next, all the way to Greece.

      Beggars can’t be choosers. And she was very