Joan Wolf - His Lordship's Desire

“Romance writing at its very best.”

—Publishers Weekly (starred review) on The Guardian

“Wolf’s intricately plotted and vividly detailed historical romance introduces the reader to a time and a conflict unfamiliar to many and offers intriguing glimpses of the main players and the great stakes involved.”

—Booklist on To the Castle

“Joan Wolf never fails to deliver the best.”

—Nora Roberts

“An entertaining and thought-provoking read.”

—Washington Post Book World on The Reindeer Hunters

“Wolf…leaps into the contemporary romantic suspense arena with this smart, compelling read.”

—Publishers Weekly on Silverbridge

“A quick-moving, enchanting tale…

An excellent choice for readers who want an exciting epic.”

—Booklist on Daughter of the Red Deer

“Captivating…endearing…heartwarming…

Wolf’s assured storytelling is simply the best.”

—BookPage on Royal Bride

“Fast paced, highly readable…”

—Library Journal on The Gamble

“Joan Wolf is absolutely wonderful.

I’ve loved her work for years.”

—Iris Johansen

“The always-awesome Joan Wolf proves she is a master in any format or genre.”

—Romantic Times BOOKclub

TO THE CASTLE

WHITE HORSES

His Lordship’s Desire

Joan Wolf

www.mirabooks.co.uk

As always, for Joe.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Epilogue

Perched high on the Berkshire downs, five miles north of Lambourn, Standish Court rose out of the mist before the eyes of Alexander Devize. He had not seen his home in over three years and the sight of the large, spreading redbrick building, built around a graveled courtyard, caused a sudden tightening in his stomach. When he left home three years ago, his father had been alive and in charge. Now Alex was the Earl of Standish and he wasn’t quite sure he was ready to assume the huge responsibilities that came with his new position. The change from the chaos of the battlefield to the settled sprawling acres of Standish Court would take some getting used to.

He left his phaeton at the bottom of the shallow set of stairs that led to the front door and walked slowly upward. He raised the knocker and banged it three times.

The door was opened promptly by a burly young footman who looked at him politely. “Yes, sir. May I help you?”

Alex had opened his mouth to identify himself when an elderly voice from behind the footman said, “You stupid dolt. That’s his lordship!”

Henrys, who had been butler to the Devizes for as long as Alex could remember, pushed the large footman out of his way and said in a quavering voice, “My lord, my lord, how wonderful it is to see you home!”

Alex took the old man’s hand. “It’s grand to be here, Henrys. I hope I don’t give everyone too much of a shock.”

“Not at all, my lord. Not at all. Her ladyship will be so glad to see you! She and Mrs. Sherwood are in the Yellow Drawing Room. Will you go to them or do you wish me to announce you?”

“I’ll go along myself, Henrys.” He gestured to the door. “My phaeton is waiting. Will you see that everything is taken care of?”

“Of course, my lord, I shall see to it immediately.”

Alex took off his hat uncovering his black curls, then walked slowly through the entrance hall. He went through the arch that Adam had created to replicate the Arch of Constantine in Rome and into the centerpiece of the whole house, a huge circular domed room lined with twenty Corinthian columns carved from a striking green-veined marble. The vast open floor was marble and on the walls were a series of grisaille panels depicting sacrificial and martial scenes.

Alex’s father had designed the room to inspire awe and wonder from the onlooker, and it fulfilled that role admirably. Alex stood looking at it for a long moment, then he proceeded to the right, to the staircase that would take him to the second floor.

On the second floor he passed through the main drawing room, which had a magnificent plaster-work ceiling by Joseph Rose, an intricate Thomas Witty carpet which mirrored the ceiling’s design, pale blue damask walls and Chippendale furniture, through the music room and into the smaller Yellow Drawing Room, which had windows looking out on the front and the west side of the house.

The two women were seated on matching Chinese-style sofas with a tea table set up between them. Both were holding fragile teacups in their hands. Alex focused on the woman with gray-blond hair drawn back into a smooth chignon, “Hello, Mama. I’m home.”

Lady Standish looked at him and dropped her teacup on the Persian rug. “Alex? Good gracious, is that you?”

“Yes, it is Mama.” He smiled. “I’m sorry to give you such a shock.”

“You’re home!” Lady Standish shrieked. She stood up and held out her arms. “You’re home, you’re home, you’re home!”

He enveloped her in a giant hug. “Yes, I’m really home,” he said. “You shouldn’t be too surprised. You wrote me that I was needed.” He kissed her soft cheek. “You smell good,” he said.

“I thought you would come home by yourself last year, when your father died,” she said a little accusingly.

“We were in the middle of the campaign to push the French out of Spain, Mama. We’ve done that now, and I felt that my usefulness was over. So here I am.”

Lady Standish sighed. “Well, I won’t reproach you any longer.” She turned to the woman who was sitting on the other sofa. “Louisa, is it not wonderful that Alex has come home?”

Louisa Sherwood, his mother’s cousin, nodded her head. “It’s good to see you again, Alex. We’ve all missed you.”

Lady Standish returned to her seat and said, “Ring the bell, Alex, and I’ll have this tea stain cleared up. Would you like to join Louisa and me for tea? Or perhaps you would care for a glass of sherry?”

Alex smiled. “Tea would be fine, Mama.” He sat in a fragile-looking Chinese-style chair that was near the two matching yellow sofas. “Having a quiet Sunday afternoon, are you?”

“Yes. The girls went out for a ride and they took the children with them, so we have some time to ourselves.”

A footman came into the room. “Clarence,” Lady Standish said, “bring more tea. And come back with something to rub out this tea stain.”

“Yes, my lady,” the footman replied.

As he left the room, Lady Standish turned eagerly to her son. “How grown-up you look, Alex. You were a boy when last I saw you. Now you are a man.”

“Yes, well, war will do that to a fellow, Mama,” he returned soberly.

“I almost died when I heard you were wounded at Vitoria. I thought for sure you would come home to recuperate.”