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By Joan Wolf
"Young and gorgeous Tracy Bodmin used to be as lively and self sufficient as theAmerica she got here from--but love for her father made her yield to hisheart's wish. although William Bodmin had made his fortune within the NewWorld, he dreamed of a name for his daughter in his local England--andhis wealth received a wedding idea to Tracy from the proud Duke ofHastings. in the back of she left Adam Lancaster, the good-looking, rugged NewEnglander who cherished her. forward lay worry and hazard within the hands of apowerful, magnetic guy whose mode of existence and love she didn't know...What used to be she doing the following? What was once Tracy doing during this large mansion whoserooms she couldn't count number and whose hallways have been a bewildering maze?What was once she doing surrounded via servants who appeared made up our minds no longer tolet her carry a finger no matter if she desired to or now not? What used to be she doingin the corporate of lords and women whose venomous gossip and razor-edgedwit could good were in a overseas tongue for all she may subscribe to inwith them? chiefly, what used to be she doing as spouse to the devilishlyhandsome and captivating Duke who now waited for her in her bridal chamber?Clearly, Adrian, the Duke of Hastings, had very much to educate Tracyabout being a Duchess -- or even extra to benefit if he didn't desire a newAmerican Revolution on his hands....
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Extra resources for The American Duchess
Maybe the Lost—or at least their servants—are working to build the world, to build life. " "Because it doesn't know what else to do," the Ragged One said. "Because nobody told it to stop. " "Everything about the Lost is a mystery to us," said Autumn grimly. Spiral made to protest, but Autumn insisted. "We lived with them, and accepted their gifts of food and water. But we never understood them. " As the beetle passed, Shoot reached out tentatively with her trunk tip and brushed the sharp edge of its carapace.
Here and there traces of fog and even windblown snow curled tiredly. Birds wheeled exuberantly. She spied huge-winged kittiwakes, fulmars and jet-black guillemots. Every so often one of them would plunge into the dark water, seeking plankton or cod. There was more life here, crowded close to this shore, than anywhere else Icebones had seen on this small world. She heard an angry screeching. There was a bloody carcass on the ice—perhaps it was a seal, or even a bear cub. Petrels soared over it trailing arched wings, their tails fanned out to ward off rivals.
Breeze, panting hard, leaned forward so her back legs were stretched out behind her. Icebones thought she could see the calf moving within its cave of flesh. Breeze raised her trunk and trumpeted, straining. There was a sudden eruption of blood and water, a stink of urine and milk. " Shoot called suddenly. "Look! " And Icebones saw it too: in a gush of water and blood, two legs had pushed from Breeze's vagina. Now a small head and the bulk of a little body was squeezed out, wrapped in a clear, shimmering sheet.
The American Duchess by Joan Wolf