Laura Martin - The Viscount's Runaway Wife

“You’re my wife, Lucy.”

His lost-and-found viscountess

After a year of desperate searching, Lord Oliver Sedgewick has found his wife...in the slums of St. Giles.

He can’t suppress his joy that Lucy is alive, despite his grief that their baby had not made it.

With his viscountess home, the spark of passion burning with more intensity than ever, Oliver may not fully understand why she left, but surely their marriage has a chance of a happy future...?

“Laura Martin has penned another winner. She immerses readers in the world and scandals of the ton with realistic settings, authentic dialogue and twists and turns that keep the action moving.”

— RT Book Reviews on An Earl to Save Her Reputation

“A sweet and passionate romance with a worthy couple well deserving of their happiness.”

— Roses Are Blue on An Earl to Save Her Reputation

LAURA MARTINwrites historical romances with an adventurous undercurrent. When not writing she spends her time working as a doctor in Cambridgeshire, where she lives with her husband. In her spare moments Laura loves to lose herself in a book, and has been known to read from cover to cover in a single day when the story is particularly gripping. She also loves to travel—especially visiting historical sites and far-flung shores.

Also by Laura Martin

Under a Desert Moon

Governess to the Sheikh

A Ring for the Pregnant Debutante

An Unlikely Debutante

An Earl to Save Her Reputation

The Eastway Cousins miniseries

An Earl in Want of a Wife

Heiress on the Run

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

The Viscount’s Runaway Wife

Laura Martin

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07423-0

THE VISCOUNT’S RUNAWAY WIFE

© 2018 Laura Martin

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

For George, my little warrior.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

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

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

Prologue

Sussex—1814

Dear Husband,

I am sorry. Please do not look for me.

Your wife,

Lady Sedgewick

Chapter One

London—1815

Oliver paused before entering the butcher’s shop situated a few streets north of Russell Square. In the past year he’d been to many places a titled gentleman wouldn’t normally venture in search of his missing wife, but never in his life had he had cause to go into a butcher’s shop before.

Regarding the hanging cuts of meat with curiosity, he pushed open the door, looking up as the bell tinkled, and walked in. A large man wielding an oversized meat cleaver flashed him a smile, indicating he would be with him once he’d finished slicing the half a pig that was hanging over the rear of the counter.

‘How can I help you, sir?’ the butcher asked as he wiped his bloodied hands on a white rag. ‘Got some lovely fresh pork if you’re interested.’

Despite the man’s words, Oliver could see the hint of mistrust in his eyes—the butcher knew already Oliver wasn’t there to buy anything.

‘I’m looking for my wife,’ he said without any preamble. He’d been in similar situations hundreds of times over the last year and honed his speech to be concise and to the point.

The butcher frowned.

‘I spoke to a delivery boy last week who thought he might have seen her in this area, most specifically in your shop.’ Taking a miniature portrait from his pocket, he held it out to show the butcher. ‘Her name is Lady Sedgewick, although she might be using a different name.’

Oliver watched the man closely and wondered if he saw the tiniest spark of recognition in his eyes.

‘Name doesn’t sound familiar,’ the butcher said, buying himself some time.

‘And the woman in the picture?’

‘Why are you looking for her?’

Oliver felt his pulse quicken. Just over a year he’d been searching for Lucy, a year of disappointment and dead ends. Every time he thought he might be drawing closer it came to nothing, but perhaps he was finally getting somewhere.

‘She’s my wife.’

‘Lots of reasons a wife might not want to be found by her husband.’

‘I mean her no harm,’ Oliver said and it was the truth. He’d never wanted to harm Lucy despite everything she’d put him through.

The butcher regarded him for some moments and then nodded as if satisfied.

‘Looks a bit like a young woman who comes in once a week from the St Giles’s Women’s and Children’s Foundation. I sell them our offcuts of meat at a reduced price.’

‘Where is this Foundation?’ Oliver asked, already knowing the answer, but hoping he was wrong.

‘St Giles, of course,’ the butcher said with a grin. ‘Though, you’ll need a guide if you want to get in and out of there in one piece.’

‘Thank you for your help,’ Oliver said, holding out a few coins for the man’s trouble. The butcher pocketed them with a nod, then turned back to the pig carcase.