The man who was standing right in front of her.

“But you’re—you’re—” She choked, her eyes stinging.

“John Drake,” he replied quietly. “The man who sent you all those letters.”

She couldn’t look away, couldn’t release the death grip her hands held on the chair. Even now, the floor rose and fell beneath her, stealing her breath and making her heart pound so hard that the rush of blood through her ears was deafening.

He reached into the drawer again, this time pulling out the white swan mask. “The man you danced with at the masquerade.” Slowly, he circled the desk to stand in front of her. He set the mask on top the letters, taking a brief caress of its satin. “The same man you wanted to spend the evening with.”

The same man she’d wanted to make love to her.

Her cheeks flushed at the memory of the things he’d whispered to her, how he’d kissed and caressed her, how she’d reacted—impossible! That was John. He could not have been Monmouth.

Yet he had her letters, her mask…and the way he’d felt when he’d kissed her as Monmouth had stirred the same delicious sensations she’d felt when she’d been kissed by her masked John.

He knelt on the floor in front of her and covered her hand with his. Caressing the backs of her fingers until she loosened her grip on the chair arm, he folded her hand in both of his. “You had no idea who I was?”

“None,” she whispered, then caught her breath when he lifted her hand to kiss it.

“And if you’d known I was Monmouth?”

She bit her lip, then honestly whispered, “I never would have left that first letter.”

He laughed and squeezed her hands, as if she’d said the most perfect thing to him rather than insulting him. “Thank God that you did.” He reached up to cup her face in his palm. “I cannot begin to tell you how much those letters meant to me, that you were sharing your deepest thoughts and secrets with someone you thought was simply an ordinary man, or that you wanted to spend the evening with me. The man I am, not the title that was thrust upon me.”

“I don’t care about any of that.” She’d meant the words as a scolding, but they emerged as a throaty whisper.

“I know.” With a smile, he caressed his thumb over her bottom lip and made it shiver. Just as he had the night of the masquerade. “Which is why I love you.”

Her heart stopped. When it started again, the foolish thing raced with a happiness it had never felt before.

But her head knew differently.

“But you don’t. You’re…”

“The enemy,” he finished for her, his smile fading into a frown. “I’m not your enemy, Cora. What I am is a man who has fallen in over his head and needs you to help rescue him. You’ve seen during the past few weeks what my life as Monmouth is like.” Another caress across her lip. “I cannot do this without you. Beyond that—” He rose up to touch his lips to hers, drawing a surprised inhalation from her. “I simply adore you.”

He kissed her again, this time so slowly and tenderly that she completely lost her breath. Her hand reached up of its own volition to touch his cheek, to feel his warmth and strength. She closed her eyes and drank in the overwhelming sensation.

He slid his lips over her cheek and back to her ear. “Tell me…do you love him, the man who sent those letters? The man who danced with you, who whispered words of love to you in the shadows?”

“Yes,” she admitted.

He shifted back to cup her face in both hands. “Then love me, too.” Her eyes fluttered open, and the expression on his face took her breath away. “Marry me.”

Oh, how she wanted nothing more! But they weren’t living in a fairytale masquerade, and she sadly shook her head as the hot tears blurred her vision. “I’m a miller’s daughter,” she choked out. “You’re a duke.”

“I’m also a warehouse owner. Before that I was a builder in construction, and before that, I started as a day laborer, digging ditches.” A stray tear fell down her cheek, and he brushed it gently away with his thumb. “Do you think you could lower yourself enough to marry a ditch digger?”

He reached into the watch pocket of his waistcoat and withdrew the ring she’d found in the lane all those weeks ago. The same ring that started it all. But now it had been freshly polished until it gleamed, a portent of a shiny new future for them. Together.

He slipped it onto her finger. “Cora Bradley, will you marry me?” He raised her hand to his lips to place a kiss to the ring. “Not the duke, but me. The man who loves you.”

Her heart was so full that she had no idea how it was able to keep beating. But it did, even as another tear slipped free. She rested her hand against his cheek, the ring shining in the sunlight.

“I wanted him to be you,” she admitted in a trembling whisper, unable to speak louder through the happiness that consumed her. “So much…” She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her cheek against his, sharing her heart’s last secret. “I love you, John. I love you.”

Then he kissed her, finally giving her the embrace she’d craved since the night of the masquerade—the one from the man whose name she now knew, a name she couldn’t wait to take as her own.

TWO MONTHS LETTER, they went together to the tree and pinned one last note to its trunk. Then she placed the old spoon ring onto the nail, not needing it now that it had been replaced just that morning by a gold wedding band.

To whomever comes across this note…We found this ring on the path, and then we found love. We dearly wish the same for you. Give it to the one you love, and let love open your hearts to a lifetime of possibilities. Together.




AUTHOR’S NOTE


As you probably realized, this novella is a Georgian adaptation of You’ve Got Mail, starring Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan, which was itself a late 20th century retelling of a by-then familiar story. Two people expressing their love through their letters is a story for the ages, to my knowledge stretching back to Eloise and Abelard in the 12th century. A modern twist on the old story turned the two lovers into rivals. This was the version presented by Hungarian playwright Miklós László, whose 1937 play, Parfumerie, was the inspiration for the 1940 movie starring Jimmy Stewart and Margaret Sullivan, The Shop Around the Corner. In 1949, the play was turned into a movie musical, In the Good Old Summertime, starring Judy Garland and Van Johnson, and later into the Broadway musical, She Loves Me, in 1963, and finally into You’ve Got Mail in 1998.

No matter the time period or location, whether 1990s New York, 1930s Budapest, or 1800’s England, the essential lesson remains—the heart knows that the heart wants, and sometimes we only need to step out of its way to let love come.

Hello, my dear reader!


I hope you enjoyed spending time with Cora and John, because I had such a fun time writing their story. The hardest part? Figuring out how to turn the equivalent of modern-day emails into early 19th century anonymous notes. But I think it all worked out just lovely, don’t you?

If you enjoy romances with hidden identities, you might enjoy the most recent books in my award-winning Capturing the Carlisles series. The Carlisle cousins are caught up in a web of treachery and treason in HOW THE EARL ENTICES, and the only person who can save them is a dead woman. And in WHAT A LORD WANTS, Evelyn Winslow’s need for adventure puts her into scandal—and into the arms of a notorious Italian painter, only to discover that he isn’t at all as he seems.

Society balls, dashing men, adventurous heroines, treachery at nearly every turn, spicy sex, and a spot of tea…what more could you want in a Regency romance?


Happy reading!

♥ Anna Harrington


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MUST LOVE DUKE



NOVEMBER


HEATHER SNOW






PREFACE


Lady Emmaline Paulson is destined to land a duke—at least that has been the expectation since she was a cherub faced babe. But she has no wish to live her life in a gilded cage, always on display. Besides, she already has her Duke—an adorable Cavalier King Charles spaniel pup she rescued from the Serpentine with the help of a handsome stranger.