He won her hand . . .

Though she hailed from one of England's oldest, richest families, the Honorable Jane Sandiford had been brought up in a frugal fashion, far from the lavish London set she was about to join. For Jane was to wed the dashing Lord Wraybourne, a ranking member of the ton, and a vexingly handsome one at that. She'd been raised to expect a staid and passionless betrothal, and so the odd rush of emotion she felt each time Wraybourne came near seemed most irrational. The always sensible Jane knew that Wraybourne's only desire was for the Sandiford furtune, and she would do best to keep her distance rather than fall prey to the nobleman's considerable charms . . .

She won his heart . . .

The Tenth Earl of Wraybourne laughed as the local gossipmongers spread word of his surprise engagement to the staggeringly wealthy Sandiford heiress -- as if he needed to marry for money! Certainly the simple but spirited Jane was most different from the frivolous and fasionable London females of Wraybourne's circle -- but that was precisely what he wanted in a wife. Not some chit with ideas of wealth and position, but an honest, strong, country-bred lass who would provide him with heirs and never stray. But then Wraybourne introduced his fiancee to the ton, and discovered that beneath her outmoded gowns and frumpy bonnets was a woman of warmth, wit, and passion. Suddenly the dull affair of marriage seemed rather more alluring, and Wraybourne wondered if it would be possible to fall in love with one's own wife.