Gareth St. Clair is in a bind. His father, who detests him, is determined to beggar the St. Clair estates and ruin his inheritance. Garethâs sole bequest is an old family diary, which may or may not contain the secrets of his past . . . and the key to his future. The problem isâitâs written in Italian, of which Gareth speaks not a word.
Meet Our Heroine . . .
All the ton agreed: there was no one quite like Hyacinth Bridgerton. Sheâs fiendishly smart, devilishly outspoken, and according to Gareth, probably best in small doses. But thereâs something about herâsomething charming and vexingâthat grabs him and wonât quite let go . . .
Meet Poor Mr. Mozart . . .
Or donât. But rest assured, heâs spinning in his grave when Gareth and Hyacinth cross paths at the annualâand annually discordantâSmythe-Smith musicale. To Hyacinth, Garethâs every word seems a dare, and she offers to translate his diary, even though her Italian is slightly less than perfect. But as they delve into the mysterious text, they discover that the answers they seek lie not in the diary, but in each other . . . and that there is nothing as simpleâor as complicatedâas a single, perfect kiss.
Gareth St. Clair is in a bind. His father, who detests him, is determined to beggar the St. Clair estates and ruin his inheritance. Garethâs sole bequest is an old family diary, which may or may not contain the secrets of his past . . . and the key to his future. The problem isâitâs written in Italian, of which Gareth speaks not a word.
Meet Our Heroine . . .
All the ton agreed: there was no one quite like Hyacinth Bridgerton. Sheâs fiendishly smart, devilishly outspoken, and according to Gareth, probably best in small doses. But thereâs something about herâsomething charming and vexingâthat grabs him and wonât quite let go . . .
Meet Poor Mr. Mozart . . .
Or donât. But rest assured, heâs spinning in his grave when Gareth and Hyacinth cross paths at the annualâand annually discordantâSmythe-Smith musicale. To Hyacinth, Garethâs every word seems a dare, and she offers to translate his diary, even though her Italian is slightly less than perfect. But as they delve into the mysterious text, they discover that the answers they seek lie not in the diary, but in each other . . . and that there is nothing as simpleâor as complicatedâas a single, perfect kiss.