Lyn Stone - The Viscount

She shook her head vehemently, appalled at her cowardice. “You don’t!”

He was her husband, after all. It wasn’t as though he would hurt her in any way. It was herself she feared, what she might become if she let herself respond fully. “I told you I’m not afraid of you.”

His chuckle was wry. “Well, darling, you scare the hell out of me.”

Surprised, her train of thought lost, she turned to face him. “I do?”

He nodded, one side of his mouth kicking up in a half smile. “Indeed. You are so different from any woman I have ever known.” He trailed one finger up her arm to her shoulder. “So very different.”

Lily closed her eyes and sighed. “I don’t know what you want.”

“Yes, you do. I want all of you, Lily. Everything within you. Everything you are!”

The Scot

“A delightful tale of a young woman determined to have freedom within her marriage, if not under the law.”

—Romantic Times

The Highland Wife

“Laced with lovable characters, witty dialogue, humor and poignancy, this is a tale to savor.”

—Romantic Times

Bride of Trouville

“I could not stop reading this one…. Don’t miss this winner!”

—Affaire de Coeur

The Knight’s Bride

“Stone has done herself proud with this delightful story…a cast of endearing characters and a fresh, innovative plot.”

—Publishers Weekly

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is for Mary Ann Caissie, a friend I treasure.

Thanks for sharing good times and bad, kiddo.

Your smile and optimism are priceless.

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

Epilogue

London—April 1859

L ily Bradshaw quickly rolled off the bed and bunched up the heavy blanket so it would appear that she lay there sleeping if anyone looked in. Then she crept over and huddled beside the locked door. There was no other place to hide. And then, not for long.

“Has she awakened?” a voice rasped. Though obviously intended as a whisper, it almost boomed within the near silence.

“I expect it will be a while, considering,” came the smooth, untroubled reply, hardly even muted below a normal conversational tone.

Lily had been awake for nearly an hour by her reckoning. She had lain, clutching at the scratchy blanket, frozen with fear as her eyes grew accustomed to the meager light from the small barred window set high in the door. The cell reeked of urine and despair. And it was cold. Very cold. She shivered now and deliberately slowed her breathing, knowing she could not afford panic.

“Is she in there alone?” A shadow blocked light for a few seconds as if someone peered inside, gave up the attempt to see anything and then moved away.

“Yes. We isolate new arrivals here until they can be examined and placed in the proper ward. No time for that yet, of course, since her admittance was an emergency of sorts. Would you care to see her?” Silky and dark, the tone was more frightening than that of the one growling the questions.

“Not necessary. You know what to do next?”

“Of course.” A short pause, then Silky Voice spoke again. “I will give her more of this laudanum tonight before she wakes completely. That will ensure she remains tractable. Then I will give her something stimulating to put her in top form for her examination. You have notified the proper authorities?”

“Word will be sent in the morning once I hear from you that all is in order here.”

“Excellent.”

Lily shivered and covered her mouth to stifle a whimper of terror. She was not precisely sure who her examiners were supposed to be, but from the howls and screams echoing through the walls and floors this past hour, she could make a ready guess. Someone had locked her in a madhouse and was planning to prove her insane.

Her next thought was of Beau. What had they done with her son? Surely he still remained safe at Sylvana Hall. Safe with his nurse, playing with his toys, reading his primer and doing his sums. No one had any reason whatsoever to harm a small lad of seven. But then, no one had reason to put her in an asylum, either. Or had they?

Suddenly as that, common sense caught up with her and she realized precisely who would benefit. With her declared insane, her husband’s brother Clive would gain control of both her son and his inheritance. And, as his uncle and only male relative, nothing would stand between Clive and the title. Except for the little boy who held it now.

Jonathan had died two years ago. Had Clive been waiting for enough time to pass after Jonathan’s death so that he wouldn’t rouse suspicion? Perhaps his own funds had run out. Or maybe greed had simply overcame him.

She could not say for certain whether the man with that growling whisper was her brother-in-law, but it was possible…even probable. Who else could it be?

No sooner had she thought it than she heard the voice again. “Suppose she is lucid when they arrive. In their view, two brief episodes of hysteria might not qualify as insanity and warrant…this.”

“Not to worry. She will convince them.” Lily could hear a smile in the other man’s assurance. “But we should move her immediately to Plympton’s after you obtain the writ for her committal.”

“Why not simply leave her here in London?”

She was in London? How in the world had she gotten here?

“Plympton is privately run, of course,” said Silky Voice, “and it will be easier to manage her care there than here in London. Safer, and certainly more convenient for me. I shall have the earl to deal with, as well, if all goes as planned.”

A nasty scoff. “That old lunatic? Duquesne should have put him away years ago instead of keeping him at home. So you’re to be one of his attendants?”

Silky Voice again. “Assuming Lord Duquesne hires me, which I’m certain he will. I hear he’s desperate for another caretaker. My interview with the viscount takes place tomorrow at nine and I have letters of referral. I shouldn’t think he’d be too particular, and even if he is, I am well qualified.”

“Just be certain you’re here when she is examined. I warn you, muck this up and you will not be working anywhere, Brinks. Do I make myself clear? I want her taken care of.”

Silence.

Then one set of footsteps moved away until they became inaudible.

Lily’s heart drummed so loudly, she was afraid the man remaining—Brinks, was it?—on the other side of the portal could hear it thumping.

She had to get out. Now. Before her greedy brother-in-law arranged for her permanent incarceration. But where could she go? She hated London and never came here if she could avoid it. She knew virtually no one here.

But you do, a small voice whispered inside her head. And he helped you once before.

Lily shook her head at the ridiculous thought. The only reason he even came to mind was the mention of his name just now. Viscount Duquesne had his own troubles. Why should he do anything for her?

Though they hailed from the same county, Lily had not seen the man in years, not since she was a child. Dark rumors concerning his shadowy dealings with society’s dregs, his apparent willingness to do anything—no matter how dangerous or outrageous—for a price, had rendered him a social pariah.