It was because of Miss Eliza Weston that Lucian had nearly found himself betrothed. Not that he had wanted to wed Eliza, but because they had almost been caught in a compromising situation. If she wasn’t so stunning, perhaps he would not mind, but Miss Eliza Weston was aggravation and irritation, wrapped up in one exquisite package, and a menace to them all.
Miss Eliza Weston once believed in vampires, ghosts and witches, and her favorite novels were those of the gothic variety that sent chills down her spine. She loved being scared, and scaring others, which is why she became a novelist. However, fictional fear is nothing compared to the terror of someone who threatens from the shadows. Now the only person who can protect her is the Earl of Garretson; a man she was once hopelessly infatuated with years ago. A man who wants so little to do with her, he has banned her from his life.
Curses and a mummy brought Eliza to his estate, but a very real threat has pushed her into Lucian’s arms.
Prologue
Spring, 1816, London
Miss Eliza Weston crossed to the window overlooking Piccadilly, removed her dark hat and veil, then pulled the black gloves from her hands, one finger at a time. The thoroughfare below was busy with traffic, which was its normal state at nearly any hour of any day. The early morning began with dust carts with their bells, along with milk carts, vegetable sellers, and all manner of vendors. There were also servants going about and preparing for their day, and shopping for the households they served. Then came those who enjoyed morning constitutionals and carriages making their way about town, followed later in the day by citizens out to enjoy a stroll on a pleasant day, or to visit Green Park, which was near, or making calls during the fashionable hour. In the evenings, there were more carriages as those in Society traveled to and from routs, balls, the theatre, gentlemen’s clubs, gaming establishments, and likely brothels and mistresses as well. This traffic continued well into the early morning hours. When there was silence, it usually came between three and five in the morning.
Many of those who stayed within the Pulteney Hotel, and had a set of rooms that overlooked Piccadilly, complained of the constant noise. But not Eliza. She enjoyed being in the center of life, and the cacophony that drifted up to her windows each day and night. Besides, it was not as if she required much sleep. Her mind was too engaged and rarely settled. If she was not seeking information or researching a favorite topic, or visiting bookshops and museums, she was writing. And being able to observe those who went about their day had inspired several characters.
She often stood at this very window, watching those below as she sipped her tea. When someone caught her eye, Eliza would observe, and write the story she imagined for them.
Eliza had authored many stories over the years. Some were novels, and others were serials that appeared in newssheets and magazines. Each story was more mystery than anything else though placed in a classic gothic setting and written to send chills down a reader’s spine. Or at least she hoped that was the effect.
Horrid novels of earlier decades were some of her favorite books, especially those written by Ann Radcliffe. Though Mrs. Radcliffe wrote under her own name, Eliza had chosen a pen name for herself: E. B. Westin. The initials were her own, though nobody knew, and with a simple change to one vowel in her surname, she had a pseudonym.
It wasn’t that she was ashamed of her name, she simply believed that with a name like Eliza as the author, no book would be taken seriously, unlike those written by a man. Her stories were for men and women and by not revealing her gender, more people read what she wrote, which led to her becoming financially independent.
When Eliza reached her majority and aged into spinsterhood, her father turned over guardianship of her financial support to her older brother because Eliza had not had the good sense to marry. As it was clear that Eliza would embrace being on the shelf, Isaac saw no reason why her dowry shouldn’t be used and allowed her access to those funds whenever they were needed. With her success as a novelist, she rarely had to call on him for financial assistance. Instead, she let her dowry be and increase under the guidance of her brother.
At the scratch on the door to her set of rooms, Eliza didn’t retreat from her window. Instead, she waited while her maid or footman answered. They were an older couple she had hired three years back who had never been blessed with children and enjoyed traveling when Eliza wished to visit a new city or town.
“The post, Miss Weston,” Saul announced and placed the silver tray containing missives and a package in the center of the table between two beige upholstered chairs. “Stella will return shortly with your tea service.”
“Thank you, Saul.”
While the Pulteney Hotel was where she lived, this was not the address she used. Any correspondence meant for E. B. Westin the author was sent to her publisher, and deliveries addressed to Miss Eliza Weston were sent to their family home in Mayfair, where her brother Isaac and his two sons resided. Those items were then forwarded to her. Only Isaac, her publisher, and two of their trusted servants knew where she lived and Eliza wanted to keep it that way. In fact, when leaving and returning to the hotel, she remained veiled, and her clothing was always nondescript so that she was not noticed. This was a habit that she had been forced to adopt in recent weeks and the reason she was no longer seen in Society.
Isaac understood why Eliza did not wish to reside with him in London or their parents at their country estate in Surrey. Further, he understood her need for independence. However, it was also his opinion that a miss, no matter what her age, should not reside in a hotel, despite her reasons for doing so. Yet, he was powerless to dictate what Eliza did or did not do.
Eliza opened the missive from her friend Olivia Westbrook as it was on the top of the stack of letters. Not even her dearest friends knew where Eliza resided. She was also quite shocked to read that it was an invitation to Wyndhill Park to witness Olivia’s marriage to Dr. Xavier Sinclair.
Eliza could not help but smile, knowing that she would finally be able to return to the estate that she had been banned from. Lucian Sinclair, Lord Garretson, certainly could not keep an invited guest from attending the wedding. And this time, Eliza would not leave Wyndhill Park until she found what she had been seeking ten years ago when Garretson had warned her to never return.
She was also happy for her friend, though rather confused. Olivia and Dr. Sinclair bickered far more than they conversed. At least that was the case last autumn and Eliza couldn’t wait to find out exactly what had occurred to bring about such a drastic change in their relationship.
Next, she opened the package from her brother, Oliver. He was always sending her items from his newest home, as he was fond of teasing her about believing in ghosts, vampires and witches. Last month it had been a set of beautifully hand painted tarot cards, which she intended to use in a novel once she learned more about the meaning of each card. This time he had sent her a voodoo doll, pin and a note of instructions and then suggested that all she needed to do was add something from her enemy, such as a lock of hair, then stab away.
Eliza laughed and set it aside before she reached for the remainder of the mail for E. B. Westin. There was a missive from an editor, and…she started shaking the moment she recognized the handwriting.
Worse, this letter was addressed to her at the Pulteney Hotel.
How had he found her? She slowly broke the seal and unfolded the parchment.
There is no place you can hide from me.
Chapter One
One Month Later, Wyndhill Park, Hampshire, England
Lucian Sinclair, the Earl of Garretson took a deep breath and watched the guests mingle on the terrace of Wyndhill Park. Beside him were his brother, Xavier, and Lady Olivia Westbrook, soon to be wed. The guests were here for them and Lucian could not wait for everyone to be gone.
Two days. He would only need to endure for two days, he reminded himself as he fought the urge to escape to someplace quieter and where he could be alone. In fact, the folly by the lake would be particularly inviting since few knew of its existence.
He did not like large groups of people, especially in his home, yet it could not be avoided as he was hosting the wedding celebration. The couple were to wed tomorrow by Special License followed by a wedding supper. Thankfully, no ball was planned, just a gathering in the evening to visit, or play games, or whatever it was the guests wanted to do. As this was a wedding and not a house party, Lucian expected every last one of the guests to vacate the estate the following morning.
Of all his brothers, Lucian was certain that Xavier would be the last to wed, if he married at all. Instead, he was the first. With any luck, Xavier’s soon-to-be wife would deliver a son within the year, thus relieving Lucian from the duty of taking part in the Season next year. If that came to be, Lucian would happily sign over ownership of Harwood Hall, an unentailed estate located in Sussex, as he had promised last autumn.
Missing from the guests were Lady Olivia’s three closest friends whom she and her twin, Victoria, had made when they attended the Wiggons’ School for Elegant Young Ladies. Two were in other countries and could not be here, but they weren’t the friends who concerned him. It was the one who resided in England—Miss Eliza Weston—and Lucian had tried to prepare himself for their eventual encounter, though he hoped that she stayed away. It was because of her that Lucian had nearly found himself betrothed. Not that he had wanted to wed Eliza, but because they had nearly been caught in a compromising situation that would have altered his life.
Lucian pushed the memory from his mind and was thankful that the woman had not been his wife these past nine years.
“Olivia!”
Lucian turned to see who was calling out to his brother’s betrothed and groaned.
Had his thoughts conjured the most difficult woman in England? If so, it certainly had not been his intention.
“What is she doing here?” Lucian demanded.
“I invited her to the wedding,” Olivia answered.
“She is forbidden from setting foot on Wyndhill Park,” Lucian reminded her but knew that he would not be able to have Eliza removed.
“A rule you put in place, what, ten years ago when she was barely out of the schoolroom,” Xavier reminded him.
“Almost ten and she had been eighteen.”
“She also belongs at my wedding,” Olivia insisted.
Miss Eliza Weston was desire and temptation, aggravation and irritation, wrapped up in one exquisite package, and a menace to them all. Or at least a danger to him, and only because he could not have her and she’d be impossible to tame.
He had been flummoxed for the slightest moment when she had stepped onto the terrace, just as he was almost every time he saw her in London, which was thankfully rare. Coppery red curls framed her face and the remainder of her hair was tied up behind her head, though some still brushed her shoulder. Her grey eyes glinted silver, which was a sure sign that she was up to mischief. However, it wasn’t just her hair and eyes that Lucian noticed but the ice blue gown with a scooped bodice that hugged her breasts.
Desirable but also a troublemaker, Lucian reminded himself, as she weaved her way through the gathered crowd.
“It is so good to see you again, Lord Garretson,” Eliza greeted him with a bright smile.
“I am so happy you could make it.” Olivia held out her hands to Eliza as her friend drew close.
“Of course I would be here,” Eliza proclaimed. “You are marrying one of the Sinclairs that I actually do like.” She grinned at Lucian.
“You are to confine yourself to the manor and formal gardens and terrace, Miss Weston,” Lucian insisted. “No going off to places you do not belong.”
“I would not dream of trespassing,” Eliza answered as her eyes glinted with silver.
Blast! He would have to keep an eye on her. Despite her assurance, Lucian did not trust her.
“Excuse us for a moment.” Xavier tugged Olivia’s arm and pulled her away.
Lucian could not believe that he had been left alone with Eliza of all people.
“How have you been, Lord Garretson? I have not seen nor heard anything of you since last autumn when we both visited at your sister’s home.”
He had been able to avoid her then, except for dinner, and he would avoid her these next two days as well. “I am well. Thank you.” He was not going to engage Miss Weston in conversation any further than was polite and necessary.
“It is good of you to host the wedding celebration.”
“He is my brother.”
“Olivia’s brother could have hosted the event,” she pointed out.
“Marriages usually take place where the groom resides. It is where the banns are to be cried.”
“Yet, it seems to pain you to host.”
He stared into her eyes. “It pains me to have so many guests underfoot, especially those who would normally be banned.”
Eliza smiled. “If you are referring to me, I am not staying here, but elsewhere.”
Thank goodness for that. At least he would not need to worry about stumbling across her when it was least expected.
“Have you taken rooms in town?”
Her grin widened. “No. I have taken Greenhaven Cottage for the summer.”
“You what?” Lucian nearly yelled.
“I said that I have taken Greenhaven Cottage for the summer. We are to be neighbors.”
Bloody hell! This was far worse than two days of her being in his home. Who knew what trouble she would get up to, or what headaches she would cause over the next few months?
Worse, the object of his desire would be living right next door.
***
“I have needed to be away from London and as I was traveling to Hampshire, it seemed the ideal place to holiday for the summer,” Eliza explained. She had anticipated Garretson’s shock and irritation, which is why she wanted to be the one to tell him.
“I am certain that there are several properties that would serve you well and are available for let,” Garretson ground out.
“Not as delightful as Greenhaven Cottage, I assure you.”
“Who is with you?” He then brightened. “Has Oliver returned from New Orleans? I would not mind him living next door.”
“Oliver is still in America and I doubt he will return for a very long time, if ever,” she answered. “My servants are with me, and they are all I need.”
He gaped at her. “A miss should not travel the country or reside in a home without a chaperone or someone to protect her.”
“Chastisement does not suit you, Lord Garretson, and you know it has no effect on me.” If anything, it made her want to shock him even more.
Eliza had also heard much of the same from her father and older brothers until they finally gave in. After all, she was all of seven and twenty, and no longer a naive miss. Innocent, yes, but wise and no longer foolish.
One day she would make Garretson lose control and abandon all that he believed was respectable. She nearly had once, long ago.
In his opinion, he was all that was proper and she was nearly all that was not. He had rules, she shunned many of them. Sadly, it was the very reason why they would never suit.
“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Lord Garretson. What I cannot do, a servant can see to, and if necessary, Saul, my manservant who used to frequent Gentleman Jackson’s, is quite large and well able to protect me if the need should arise.”
“Misses without chaperones tend to land in trouble,” he ground out.
“One can only hope.” Eliza grinned.
His blue eyes widened as he sucked in a breath through his nose. Eliza had forgotten how enjoyable it was simply vexing Garretson.
It had not always been that way. At one time, she had been quite infatuated with him and he had ruined her for any other man.
Perhaps that was an exaggeration but in the nearly ten years since she had kissed him, and Garretson kissed her back, she’d not found any gentleman that caused even the slightest hitch in her pulse, though there were many who were far more pleasant to be around.
“Just make certain the mischief you get up to does not occur on my estate,” he ground out.
“No more swimming in your lake,” she teased quietly. Not that she had meant to go swimming that day. She had simply lost her footing and when she surfaced found Garretson in the process of removing his boots, his suitcoat already discarded, as he prepared to go in after her. It had not been necessary for him to do so and she managed to remove herself from the water without his assistance.
“I do believe there is a small pond on the property you have leased if you wish to swim.”
“I will keep that in mind,” she murmured with a smile. “I also promise that after the wedding festivities are over, you will not even know that I am anywhere near Wyndhill Park.” So long as she was not caught trespassing, that is.
“If you will excuse me. I have other guests.” He turned on his heel and marched away.
Why did such a handsome gentleman have to be so disagreeable? It was quite disappointing.
It had been at her brother’s urging that Eliza took a house in the country. He wouldn’t have if Saul hadn’t gone to Isaac when yet another cryptic missive was received. He considered them threats and while Eliza found them disturbing, she did not believe actual harm would come to her person. Saul and her brother thought differently. Therefore, she and Isaac had looked for properties where she could holiday during the summer months. When she suggested Greenhaven Cottage, Isaac immediately approved because Garretson was the neighbor and could offer protection if needed. He then leased it in his own name so that there was no record as to where Eliza had disappeared. As Isaac would soon be gone from London for the summer, anyone who knew of the leasing would assume he was at Greenhaven Cottage. As she and her siblings were estranged from their parents, no one would think it odd that he hadn’t returned to the family estate.
Eliza certainly did not anticipate the need for protection from Garretson, nor would she dare ask for it, but the location gave Isaac peace, and it was exactly where Eliza needed to be for her own purpose. Not that she had any interest in the Earl of Garretson any longer, but the location was convenient so that she could thoroughly search his estate. Garretson had kept her from doing so the only other time she had visited and she had been hoping for the perfect opportunity to return.
All information that she had been able to discover over the years had not swayed her from her belief that the mummy and other stolen valuables were hidden away somewhere at Wyndhill Park. Not that Garretson had taken the items, but someone had and Eliza was determined to finally find the mummy and this time she would not be caught until she had completed her task.
“You watch Garretson in a manner that I am not certain if you wish to kiss him or kick him.”
Kiss him was her automatic reaction, which Eliza would never admit to her friend, Lady Victoria Westbrook, or anyone else for that matter.
“I simply find pleasure in irritating him.”
“As you have done these past nine years.”
“One must take enjoyment where they can.” Eliza chuckled.
“How did you end up at Wyndhill Park all those years ago?” Victoria asked. “You never did tell us. Nor did you tell us why you were never allowed to return.” She leaned in close. “Is it because he nearly ruined you?” Mischief twinkled in Victoria’s eyes.
Eliza’s face burned and she quickly glanced around to make certain that none of the guests had heard her friend’s whispered question. “It is not important.”
Only Olivia and Victoria knew of that encounter because they would never tell another soul.
The moment that Eliza had laid eyes on the Earl of Garretson, she had been smitten. After she had fallen into the lake and witnessed how he had looked into her eyes and then at her body, his blue eyes darkening, she had taken a risk and kissed him.
She knew that he had enjoyed the kiss as much as she, and it hadn’t simply been a kiss because he had pulled her close, so close that only their clothing kept their skin from touching as his hands roamed up and down her back, his heated kisses devouring and her first real taste of passion. Then he had set her aside and rejected her.
Somehow that rejection had hurt twice as much as when her parents kept forgetting to bring her home from school. Nobody liked to be forgotten or set aside. But at least she still had her four dearest friends, even if they did not see each other as often as they wished.
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