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Informationen zum Autor Mary Balogh Klappentext Mary Balogh has no equal when it comes to capturing the complex, irresistible passions between men and women. Her classic novel, The Secret Pearl, is one of the New York Times bestselling author's finest-a tale of temptation and seduction, of guarded hearts and raw emotion...and of a love so powerful it will take your breath away.... He first spies her in the shadows outside a London theatre, a ravishing creature forced to barter her body to survive. To the woman known simply as Fleur, the well-dressed gentleman with the mesmerizing eyes is an unlikely savior. And when she takes the stranger to her bed, she never expects to see him again. But then Fleur accepts a position as governess to a young girl...and is stunned to discover that her midnight lover is a powerful nobleman. As two wary hearts ignite-and the threat of scandal hovers over them-one question remains: will she be mistress or wife? Chapter One The crowd outside the Drury Lane Theater had dispersed for the night. The last carriage, with its two occupants, was disappearing down the street. Those few theatergoers who had come on foot had long ago set out on their way. It appeared that only one gentleman was left, a tall man in a dark cloak and hat. He had refused a ride in the last carriage to leave, preferring, he had told his friends, to walk home. And yet he was not the sole remaining occupant of the street, either. His eyes, as he looked about him, were caught by a figure standing quietly against the building, her cloak a shade lighter than the night shadows--a street prostitute who had been left behind by her more fortunate or alluring peers and who seemed now to have lost all chance of a fashionable customer for the night. She did not move, and it was impossible to tell in the darkness if she was looking at him. She might have swaggered toward him. She might have moved out of the shadows and smiled at him. She might have hailed him, offered herself in words. She might have hurried away to find a more promising location. She did none of those things. And he stood looking at her, wondering whether to begin the solitary walk home he had planned or whether to engage in an unplanned night of sport. He could not see the woman clearly. He did not know if she was young, enticing, pretty, clean--any of those qualities that might make it worth his while to change his plans. But there was her quiet stillness, intriguing in itself. She was looking at him, he saw as he strolled toward her, with eyes that were dark in the shadows. She wore a cloak but no bonnet. Her hair was dressed neatly at the back of her head. It was impossible to tell how old she was or how pretty. She said nothing and did not move. She displayed no wiles, spoke no words of enticement. He stopped a few feet in front of her. He noted that her head reached to his shoulder--she was slightly above average height--and that she was of slim build. "You wish for a night's employment?" he asked her. She nodded almost imperceptibly. "And your price?" She hesitated and named a sum. He regarded her in silence for a few moments. "And the place is close by?" "I have no place," she said. Her voice was soft, devoid of either the harshness or the cockney accent that he had expected. He looked at her out of narrowed eyes. He should begin his walk home, make a companion of his own thoughts as he had planned to do. It had never been his way to copulate with a street whore in a shop doorway. "There is an inn on the next street," he said, and he turned to walk in its direction. She fell into step beside him. They did not exchange a word. She made no move to take his arm. He did not offer it. She followed him into the crowded and rowdy taproom of the Bull and Horn and stood quietly at...
