"Gabrielle...presents an engaging marriage-of-convenience Regency romance. This grumpy/sunshine story is both poignant and passionate." - Library Journal on His Cinderella Duchess

“Beautifully written romance with depth and heart.” AJ, Goodreads

“I liked Brent and Lena. I loved their storyline. I liked Lens's personality. They worked well together. They had great chemistry.” - Pam Bereznak, Goodreads

“A lot of Lena’s knowledge comes from the first years of her life in Lebanon, and this is one of my favorite aspects of the book. It was wonderful having a half-English, half-Lebanese character and the different cultural perspective. As a bonus, we also read about lots of delicious food.” - Ashley, Goodreads

“Beautiful historical romance! This book was so good. The characters pulled me into the story.” - Janet, Goodreads

“His Cinderella Duchess has all the elements needed for a captivating story—damaged hero, feisty heroine, fascinating pasts, and steamy romance.” - Carol, Amazon

“Story and characters were so well written and so interesting that I could not put this book down. I read it from cover to cover in one day!” - Amazon review

London, 1820

Brent leaned forward in his chair and folded his hands. ‘You do recall the arrangement you proposed? You want a child. I need an heir for the dukedom. For either to happen, we have to share a bed.’

Lena’s stomach tightened. She was by no means blind to his attractiveness. Still, mention of bedchamber visits made her heart thump hard in her chest. ‘I understand but I still require time.’

‘Set forth your proposed duration of time.’

‘Three months after the wedding.’ She knew this was long but meant it to be a point of negotiation.

His brow furrowed and he shook his head. ‘A week.’

‘A month.’ She countered.

He lowered his voice, his gaze never leaving hers. ‘A week.’

She pushed back her chair and stood. Did he not realize they were to compromise? ‘You are being inflexible. However, since the banns of marriage must be read aloud in church for three Sundays prior to the wedding and you are suggesting a week after the wedding, then that will give us four weeks, or one month, to get to know one another. I’ll agree to this.’

He rose and walked around his desk to stop before her. She stood her ground and raised her chin, trying to assess his unreadable features. To her surprise, an unwelcome surge of excitement at his nearness made her pulse leap. She also had the unnerving intuition that he was enjoying their heated negotiations.

He leaned casually against the desk. ‘Banns are not required if a special license is obtained.’ His voice was level.

She gaped. ‘A special license? But…but…that requires the Archbishop’s consent himself.’

‘I know.’ An unmistakable hint of arrogance tinged his voice.

She was too shocked to be angry. Special licenses were rare. She’d never heard of anyone, other than the royal family, securing one. ‘You obtained one?’ They’d just agreed to marry. No one could work that fast.

‘Not yet, but soon.’

She eyed him with suspicion. ‘How?’

‘A relative of the Archbishop was in my regiment.’

Of course, he would have a connection. A different type of nervousness trickled down her spine. Just thinking of intimacy with him caused a swooping feeling in her stomach. As if reading her wayward thoughts, his gaze lowered to linger at her nape. Could he see her increased breaths? Did he believe it nervousness instead of awareness? She swallowed.

‘During this week, what do you require?’ he asked. He’d mentioned a week, assuming she’d agreed to it. If he accommodated her on what she needed from him, then she would consent to this timeframe.

Her eyes met his and she held up a hand. ‘If I agree to this week, then I’d like to spend time together.’ Hopefully, they would both get to know one another, and she would be less nervous in the bedchamber.

‘It sounds like a courtship after marriage. Do you require flowers? Chocolates? Or, heaven forbid, poetry?’ He listed the items like they were bullet points in a military order.

He was missing the point. ‘They are nice, but not what I had in mind.’

‘Then you must be more specific.’

He asked as if he’d never spent time with a woman out of the bedchamber. ‘Walks. I like walking in the park. It will give us a chance to grow comfortable with our union.’

He nodded. ‘And riding in the park as well?’

‘I’m not an experienced rider, but I’m not opposed to it. As long as you do not grow frustrated with me.’ She thought of other things she would enjoy. ‘I noticed a lake in the park as well…’

‘You can swim?’

‘No, silly. It’s a perfect spot for a picnic.’

His lips curled in a smile. Awareness thundered through her veins along with embarrassment. ‘You’re teasing me.’

‘It isn’t difficult.’ He hesitated for a moment before lowering his voice. ‘What I don’t understand are your true concerns. When you propositioned me, you pointed out you are a widow.’

He studied her with a curiosity causing her to shift in her seat. It was true, but she may have exaggerated her experience.

‘Was your husband lacking in the bedroom?’

Goodness! He couldn’t be asking her that. ‘My first marriage was not…was not…’

‘Was not what?’

‘Mr. Harper called me frigid.’ She slapped her hand across her mouth. The words had slipped out before she could stop herself.

He arched one dark eyebrow. ‘Frigid, you say?’ He reached out and gently removed her hand from her lips and held it in his larger one. ‘I do not believe it to be true.’

‘How can you say that?’ she whispered.

‘Because your heart is racing now. I can see the rise and fall of your chest. There is one sure way to know. An experiment of sorts. A simple kiss.’

Her lips parted. ‘A kiss?’ A strange fluttering grew in her stomach. ‘Is a kiss wise?’

‘Very.’ His gaze lowered to her lips. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know yourself?’

She’d fallen right into his trap. Only she didn’t feel entirely helpless or threatened in any way. He was giving her a choice. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest. Thoughts of kissing him had swirled in her mind the first time she’d seen him. Oh, he was intimidating, but he was also wildly attractive. Her fingers had itched to touch his scar, to kiss the corner of his perfect lips, then lick the damaged part, too.

His eyes were compelling and magnetic as he waited for her answer. ‘Yes,’ she said, her voice a faint whisper. ‘I’d like to know.’

Then she stepped close, rose on tiptoe, and pressed her lips to his.