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Other titles in the Cynster Novels series:
All about Love (Cynster Novels)by Stephanie Laurens
Synopses & Reviews
It didn't even sound comfortable.
Alasdair Reginald Cynster, widely known, with good reason, as Lucifer, pushed the word from his mind with a disgusted snort and concentrated on turning his pair of highbred blacks down a narrow lane. The lane led south, toWard the coast; Colyton, his destination, lay along it.
Around him, early summer clasped the countryside in a benevolent embrace. Breezes rippled the corn; swallows rode the currents high above, black darts against the blue sky. Thick hedges bordered the lane; from the box seat of his curricle, Lucifer could only just see over them. Not that there was anything to see in this quiet rural backwater.
That left him with his thoughts. Holding the blacks to a slow but steady pace along the winding lane, he considered the unwelcome proposition of having to survive without the type of feminine company to which he was accustomed. It wasn't a pleasant prospect, but he'd rather suffer that torture than risk succumbing to the Cynster curse.
It wasn't a curse to be trifled with — it had already claimed five of his nearest male relatives, all the other members of the notorious group that had, for so many years, lorded it over the ton. The Bar Cynster had cut swaths through the ranks of London's ladies, leaving them languishing, exhausted in their wake. They'd been daring, devilish, invincible — until, one by one, the curse had caught them. Now he was the last one free — unshackled, unwed, and unrepentant. He had nothing against marriage per se, but the unfortunate fact — the crux of the curse-was that Cynsters did not simply marry. They married ladies they loved.
The very conceptmade him shudder. Its implied vulnerability was something he would never willingly accept.
Yesterday, his brother, Gabriel, had done just that.
And that was one of the two principal reasons he was here, going to ground in deepest Devon.
He and Gabriel had been close all their lives; only eleven months separated them. Other than Gabriel, the one person he knew better than anyone in die world was their childhood playmate Alathea Morwellan. Now Alathea Cynster. Gabriel had married her yesterday, and in so doing had opened Lucifer's eyes to how potent the curse was, how irresistible it could be. Love had bloomed in the most unlikely ground. The curse had struck boldly, ruthlessly, powerfully, and had conquered against all odds.
He sincerely wished Gabriel and Alathea joy, but he had no intention of following their lead.
Not now. Very possibly not ever.
What need had he of marriage? What would he gain that he didn't already have? Women — ladies — were all very well; he enjoyed dallying with them, enjoyed the subtleties of conquering the more resistant, encouraging them into his bed. He enjoyed teaching them all he knew of shared pleasure. That, however, was the extent of his interest. He was involved in other spheres, and he liked his freedom, liked being answerable to no one. He preferred his fife as it was and had no wish to change it.
He was determined to avoid the curse — he could manage very well without love.
So he'd slipped away from Gabriel and Alathea's wedding breakfast and left London. With Gabriel married, he'd succeeded to the tide of principal matrimonial target for the ladies of the ton; consequently, he'd dismissed all invitations to the summer's countryhouse parties. He'd driven to Quiverstone Manor, his parents' estate in Somerset Leaving his groom, Dodswell, a local, there to visit with his sister, he'd left Quiverstone early this morning and headed south through the countryside.
On his left, three cottages came into view, huddled around a junction with an even narrower lane that ambled down beside a ridge. Slowing, he passed the cottages and rounded the ridge — the village of. Colyton opened out before him. Reining in, he looked about.
And inwardly grimaced. He'd been right. From the looks of Colyton, his chances of finding any local lady with whom to dally — a married one who met his exacting standards and with whom he could ease the persistent itch all Cynsters were prey to-were nil.
Abstinence it would be.
The village, neat and tidy in the bright sunshine, looked like an artist's vision of the rustic ideal, steeped in peace and harmony. Ahead to the right, the common sloped upward; a church stood on the crest, a solid Norman structure flanked by a well-tended graveyard. Beyond the graveyard, another lane ran down, presumably joining the main lane farther on. The main lane itself curved to the left, bordered by a line of cottages facing the common; the sign of an inn jutted over the lane just before it swung out of sight. Nearer to hand was a duck pond on the common; the blacks stamped and shook their heads at the quacking.
Quieting them, Lucifer looked to the left, to the first house of the village standing back in its gardens. A name was carved on the portico. He squinted. "Colyton Manor." His destination.
The Manor was a handsome house of pale sandstone, two stories and attics in the Georgian style with rows oflong pedimented windows flanking the portico and front door. The house faced the lane, set back behind a waist-high stone wall and a large garden -filled with flowering plants and roses. A circular fountain stood at the garden's center, interrupting the path joining the front door and a gate to the lane. Beyond the garden, a, stand of trees screened the Manor from the village beyond.
A gravel drive skirted the nearer side of the house, eventually leading to a stable set back against more trees. The drive was separated from a shrubbery by an expanse of lawn punctuated here and there by ancient shade trees. Somewhat overgrown, the shrubbery extended almost to where the curricle stood; a glimpse of water beyond suggested an ornamental lake...
Alasdair Cynster known to his intimates as Lucifer decides to rusticate in the country before the matchmaking skills of London′s mamas become firmly focused on him, the last unwed Cynster. But an escape to Devonshire leads him straight to his destiny in the irresistible form of Phyllida Tallent, a willful, independent beauty of means who brings all his masterful Cynster instincts rioting to the fore. Lucifer isn′t about to deny his desire for Phyllida, and he′s determined to use all his seductive skills to enjoy the benefits of destiny′s choice without submitting to the parson′s noose.
Phyllida has had a bevy of suitors, her charm and wit are well known throughout the countryside, but none of them has tempted her the way Lucifer does. His offer to teach her all about the ways of love is almost too tantalising to resist. And though she′s not yet completely surrendered, she knows only a fool stands against a Cynster...and Phyllida is no one′s fool.
Six notorious cousins, known to the ton as the Bar Cynster, have cut a swath through the ballrooms of London. Yet one by one, each has fallen in love and married the woman of his heart, until only one of them is left unclaimed...the most rakish of Stephanie Laurens' captivating clan...and he's not about to go easily.
Alasdair Cynster — known to his intimates as Lucifer — decides to rusticate in the country before the matchmaking skills of London's mamas become firmly focused on him, the last unwed Cynster. But an escape to Devon leads him straight to his destiny in the irresistible form of Phyllida Tallent, a willful, independent beauty of means who brings all his masterful Cynster instincts rioting to the fore. Lucifer tries to deny the desire Phyllida evokes — acting on it will land him in a parson's mousetrap, one place he's sworn never to go. But destiny intervenes, leaving him to face the greatest Cynster challenge — wooing a reluctant bride.
Phyllida has had a bevy of suitors — her charm and wit are well known throughout the countryside — but none of them has tempted her the way Lucifer does. His offer to teach her all about the ways of love is almost too tantalizing to resist. And though she's not yet completely surrendered, she knows only a fool stands against a Cynster...and Phyllida is no one's fool.
About the Author
New York Times bestselling author Stephanie Laurens began writing as an escape from the dry world of professional science, a hobby that quickly became a career. Her novels set in Regency England have captivated readers around the globe, making her one of the romance world's most beloved and popular authors. Loving Rose is her fifty-fourth book. All of her previous works remain in print and readily available.
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