Bewitched (THE PERKS OF BEING AN HEIRESS #1) By the Bluestocking by Jillian Eaton EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Authors: Jillian Eaton
- Language: English
- Genre: Historical Romance
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- Size: 6.1 MB
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London, England
August 19, 1870
The Office & Private Residence of Mr. Thomas Kincaid, Private
Investigator
Many people–and things–had shown up on Kincaid’s doorstep seeking help
during his three years as a private investigator. Wives wanting to know if
their husbands were having an affair behind their backs. Husbands wanting
to know if their wives were having an affair behind their backs (fidelity, it
seemed, was not exceedingly common these days).
Occasionally, someone would come searching for a missing relative, and
this past winter he’d solved the mystery of a missing cow. His first bovine
case, as it so happened. Then there was the time he’d arrived home to
discover two tiny kittens on his doorstep; both of whom now happily
resided in the flat above his office.
But in all those years, he’d never–not once–opened his door to find a
blue-eyed American heiress with hair the color of fire and a plump mouth
that immediately brought to mind all sorts of wicked, carnal thoughts. Until
one rainy morning in the middle of August, when he proceeded to do
precisely that. Truth be told, Kincaid would have preferred more kittens.
“Can I help you?” he asked warily, his dark brows gathering above thin
wire spectacles. A light mist fell from the gloomy London sky, coating the
lenses of his glasses and causing him to squint at the woman perched on his
doorstep.
She wasn’t wearing a cloak, leaving her slender arms exposed to the rain.
Kincaid had a primal urge to throw his jacket over her trembling shoulders
and draw her into the warmth of his chest, but he’d learned long ago to be
leery of beautiful women. And this one, with her thick, auburn lashes and
high cheekbones and soft, soft lips, was absolutely stunning.
“I hope so.” Her husky voice–smoke and velvet wrapped together–hit
him like a punch to the gut. “Are you Mr. Thomas Kincaid?”
He gave a curt nod. “Kincaid is fine. Might I inquire as to who is
asking?”
“Joanna Thorncroft.” Without waiting for an invitation, she slipped past
him, the side of her breast leaving a burning path along his forearm as she
marched into the foyer and turned around. “Well?” she said impatiently.
“Are you going to take my case or not?”
Kincaid blinked at her, then slowly closed the door. It was clear from the
hard inflections of her words–and her sheer audacity–that his unexpected
visitor was an American. Heralding from somewhere in Massachusetts, if
he had to guess. Coupled with a keen sense of observation, he also had an
excellent ear for dialects. It was what made him good at his job. Something
else that made him good at his job was knowing when to recognize trouble.
And it had just walked through his door dressed in rain and smelling of
violets.
“I am afraid I am not taking any new clients at this time, Miss
Thorncroft.” The world around him blurred as he took off his glasses and
wiped them dry on the cuff of his sleeve. He’d worn spectacles since he was
a young boy at the orphanage, and had been teased mercilessly for it. Those
cruel taunts were what had prompted him to become a peeler as soon as he
came of age.
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