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Robert Dungarron was on the road to London.

Hunting in the mist, rain and snow of Leicestershire had been dismal, and the society there even less attractive. What was more annoying was the meeting with Hester Perceval…. How strange that he hadn’t recognized her!

When he had first seen her coming around the corner with her cousins she had seemed a different creature altogether. Laughing, animated, capable. It had taken a minute or two to remember what a bore she had been once before—and the devilishly awkward circumstances of their last meeting…. Still, if what she had said about not coming to town for the Season was right, he wouldn’t see her again….

Dungarron settled back more comfortably against the squabs and composed himself for sleep. But sleep eluded him. Memories of Hester Perceval flitted about his mind like ghosts.

An Unreasonable Match

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