The Viscount. Lyn Stone

      “Why do I frighten you, Lily?”

      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!”

      Praise for Lyn Stone’s recent titles

      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

      The Viscount

      Lyn Stone

       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.

      Contents

      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

       Chapter One

      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