Elizabeth Harbison - Emma and the Earl

Dear Reader,

The end of the century is near, and we’re all eagerly anticipating the wonders to come. But no matter what happens, I believe that everyone will continue to need and to seek the unquenchable spirit of love…of romance. And here at Silhouette Romance, we’re delighted to present another month’s worth of terrific, emotional stories.

This month, RITA Award-winning author Marie Ferrarella offers a tender BUNDLES OF JOY tale, in which The Baby Beneath the Mistletoe brings together a man who’s lost his faith and a woman who challenges him to take a chance at love…and family. In Charlotte Maclay’s charming new novel, a millionaire playboy isn’t sure what he was Expecting at Christmas, but what he gets is a very pregnant butler! Elizabeth Harbison launches her wonderful new theme-based miniseries, CINDERELLA BRIDES, with the fairy-tale romance—complete with mistaken identity!—between Emma and the Earl.

In A Diamond for Kate by Moyra Tarling, discover whether a doctor makes his devoted nurse his devoted wife after learning about her past.… Patricia Thayer’s cross-line miniseries WITH THESE RINGS returns to Romance and poses the question: Can The Man, the Ring, the Wedding end a fifty-year-old curse? You’ll have to read this dramatic story to find out! And though The Millionaire’s Proposition involves making a baby in Natalie Patrick’s upbeat Romance, can a down-on-her-luck waitress also convince him to make beautiful memories…as man and wife?

Enjoy this month’s offerings, and look forward to a new century of timeless, traditional tales guaranteed to touch your heart!

Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor, Silhouette Romance

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Neville White, my English pen pal of many years,

who may well have an intriguing secret identity…

Special thanks to the Silveiras: Helen, for the friendship and

tea; and Mark, for saving my computer—

and, by extension, my life—time and again.

And thanks also to Swoffers Estate Agents, Guernsey.

ELIZABETH HARBISON

has been an avid reader for as long as she can remember. After devouring the Nancy Drew and Trixie Beldon series in grade school, she moved on to the suspense of Mary Stewart, Dorothy Eden and Daphne du Maurier, just to name a few. From there it was a natural progression to writing, although early efforts have been securely hidden away in the back of a closet.

After authoring three cookbooks, Elizabeth turned her hand to writing romances and hasn’t looked back. Her second book for Silhouette Romance, Wife Without a Past, was a 1998 finalist for the Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA Award in the “Best Traditional Romance” category.

Elizabeth lives in Maryland with her husband, John, and daughter, Mary Paige, as well as two dogs, Bailey and Zuzu. She loves to hear from readers and you can write to her at c/o Box 1636, Germantown, MD 20875.

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

June 9, 1998

3431 41st St., N.W.

Apartment #202

Washington, D.C. 20017

U.S.A.

The Right Hon. Brice, The Earl of Palliser

Sheldale House

St. Peter Port

Guernsey, Channel Islands GY1 2NU

U.K.

Dear Sir:

Please forgive my being forward enough to write to you at your residence. I am a pharmaceutical horticulturist with NBL Botanical Laboratory in Washington, D.C., and will be in England between July 5-12.

After seeing your estate in John Turnhill’s photography book of English country gardens, I have reason to believe there is a very rare medicinal plant on the grounds of Sheldale House. If there is any way possible that I could tour the gardens during my trip, I would be most grateful. While I realize this is an unusual request, I feel it would be invaluable to my work at NBL.

I apologize for not giving you more notice, but I’ve only just made plans to visit your country. Please send word to me either at the above address or, in July, at the Sunnington Hotel, Hampstead, London.

Sincerely,

Emma Lawrence

June 9, 1998

3431 41st St., N.W.

Apartment #202

Washington, D.C. 20017

U.S.A.

18 Cecile Park Road

Crouch End

London, N8 9AS

U.K.

Dear John,

Forgive the kitschy Washington, D.C., postcard, but I wanted to get this note off to you as soon as possible, so I had to settle for what the lunch joint across the street from work had to offer. It was this or that hideous letterhead at work. By the way, when I tried to look up your phone number, the international operator said you were unlisted!

So anyway, are you ready for the big news? (Drum roll here, please): we’re finally going to meet!

The lab is sending me to the U.K. from July 5-12. There’s a symposium on the sixth and seventh that I have to attend, but after that, apart from a few things I have to try and arrange, my schedule is going to be really flexible. Hope yours will be too…? I’m dying to see what you look like (why didn’t you ever send a picture?!) I know this isn’t much notice, but that’s the way it always seems to go around here, as you know all too well.

If you don’t get this in time to write me at home, you can contact me at a hotel called the Sunnington in Hampstead as of the fifth.

I’m out of room! Gotta run!

love,

Emma

“Let me get this straight. This American gardener to whom you’ve been writing love notes for two years in my name is finally coming to London and wants to meet you?”

Robert Brice Sorrelsby Palliser, the seventeenth earl of Palliser, looked at his friend, John Turnhill, in the mirror behind him. “She’s a pharmaceutical horticulturist, and I would hardly characterize our letters as “love notes.” But other than that, you’ve got it right, yes.”

John smiled, a little smugly. “And you want my permission to continue the charade and impersonate me in the flesh?”

Brice gave a resigned nod. “I can’t see any other way around it.”

John shook his head, clearly relishing Brice’s dilemma. “I cannot believe it. Is this the same Brice Palliser who sold the most successful daily newspaper in Britain because he felt that kind of journalism was ‘dishonest’?”

“It is dishonest.”

John gave a shout of laughter. “So is pretending to be someone you’re not.”

Brice started a hot objection, then paused. John was right. For two years Brice had corresponded with Emma Lawrence using John’s name and address in London, only a few miles away from Brice’s own London home. Regardless of his reasons—reasons which were very good and completely understandable—when you came right down to it, it was a deception.

Two years ago, John had published a photography book of English country gardens, and Emma, spotting an unusual flower in a photo of Brice’s Sheldale House garden, on Guernsey in the Channel Islands, had written to John asking about it. Since Brice was more familiar with the plant than John was, John passed the letter on to him. Brice, in turn, had answered for John. At the time it had seemed a good, efficient way to answer Emma’s query.