Lady Folbroke's Delicious Deception. Christine Merrill

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       Adrian had changed, of course. But not so much that Emily could not recognise him.

      He still had shockingly blue eyes, though they gave her little more than a sidelong glance. And there was the roguish smile that he shared with other women more often than he did with her.

      She could feel her nerve failing now that he was close, and the growing desire to sink into him, soaking in the warmth of his body as though immersed in the bath.

      And then he kissed her. On the mouth.

      The suddenness of it shocked her. She had expected a distant greeting, and the slight frown with which he usually favoured her—as though even as he was saying hello he was thinking of ways to say goodbye. But he was kissing her. They were really kissing. And it was like nothing she had experienced before …

      About the Author

      CHRISTINE MERRILL lives on a farm in Wisconsin, USA, with her husband, two sons, and too many pets—all of whom would like her to get off the computer so they can check their email. She has worked by turns in theatre costuming, where she was paid to play with period ballgowns, and as a librarian, where she spent the day surrounded by books. Writing historical romance combines her love of good stories and fancy dress with her ability to stare out of the window and make stuff up.

       Previous novels by Christine Merrill:

      THE INCONVENIENT DUCHESS

      AN UNLADYLIKE OFFER

      A WICKED LIAISON

      MISS WINTHORPE’S ELOPEMENT

      THE MISTLETOE WAGER

      (part of A Yuletide Invitation)

      DANGEROUS LORD, INNOCENT GOVERNESS

      PAYING THE VIRGIN’S PRICE*

      TAKEN BY THE WICKED RAKE*

      MASTER OF PENLOWEN

      (part of Halloween Temptations)

      * Regency Silk & Scandal mini-series

       And in Mills & Boon Historical Undone! eBooks:

      SEDUCING A STRANGER

      TAMING HER GYPSY LOVER

      AUTHOR NOTE

      I went into this story wondering why more people didn’t have blind heroes. By the time I was halfway through writing I knew.

      It had seemed a simple enough thing at first. But after a few days of writing I noticed how much of what we put into a book relies on the sense of sight. Removing the visual cues from my story made me learn to use my other senses to feel what my hero was feeling. And I needed to remember the dimensions of my imaginary rooms, just as he did, to navigate my way through them, one pace at a time.

      And then there was the illusory idea that blind might not mean totally blind, and that there were situations where a little sight was almost as bad as no sight at all. My eye doctor told me that the type of blindness I had given my hero would make him lose all sense of colour, even if he could still distinguish some light and shadow.

      And after a little research I found that many of the great advances in dealing with the loss of sight were several years in the future for Adrian. There would be no Braille until 1821. And, though it would come as a result of the very war that Adrian had fought, it would be meant to help the French defeat the English. The majority of education available to him in his own country would be vocational in nature, and far beneath his station.

      For a man of Adrian’s temperament, who had expected to control his world and his destiny, the adjustment would have been difficult. If he learned to accept his condition, his first reactions to it would leave him with much to apologise for.

      Fortunately for him, I gave him Emily, who is a very patient woman.

      LADY FOLBROKE’S

      DELICIOUS

      DECEPTION

      Christine Merrill

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      To Dr Eugene Swanson and his helpful staff.

      Thanks for taking care of my eyes.

       Chapter One

      While Emily Longesley could say with truth that she did not dislike many people, she had begun to suspect that she hated her husband’s cousin Rupert. There was something in the way he looked at the manor when he visited that made her think he wished to measure it for furniture.

      It was all the more annoying to know that he was entitled to his feelings of possessiveness. If she remained childless, the title fell to Rupert. And as the years had passed since her husband had abandoned her, Rupert’s visits had grown more frequent, more intrusive, and he’d become more generally confident in the eventuality of his inheritance. Lately, he had taken to giving an annoying smirk as he’d asked after the health of her husband, as though he were privy to some bit of information that she was not.

      It was even more bothersome to suspect that this might be the truth. Although her husband’s secretary, Hendricks, insisted that the earl was well, he was equally insistent that Adrian had no desire to communicate with her. A visit from him was unlikely. A visit to him would be both unwelcome and out of the question. Were they hiding something, or was her husband’s dislike of her as transparent as it appeared?

      Today, she could stand it no longer. ‘Rupert, what is the meaning of that expression on your face? It almost appears that you doubt my word. If you suspect that Adrian is ill, then the least you could do is pretend to be sympathetic.’

      Rupert looked at her with a smug grin that seemed to imply he’d caught her at last. ‘I do not suspect Folbroke of illness so much as I begin to doubt his existence.’

      ‘What utter fustian. You know perfectly well that he exists, Rupert. You have known him since childhood. You attended our wedding.’

      ‘And that was almost three years ago.’ He glanced around him, as though the empty air were some recent discovery. ‘I do not see him here, now.’

      ‘Because he resides in London for most of the year.’ All of the year, in fact, but it would not help to bring that to the fore.

      ‘None of his friends has seen him there. When Parliament is in session, his seat in the House of Lords is vacant. He does not attend parties or the theatre. And when I visit his rooms, he is just gone out and not expected back.’

      ‘Perhaps he does not wish to see you,’ Emily said. If so, she had found one point of agreement with her absent spouse.

      ‘I do not particularly wish to see him, either,’ Rupert said. ‘But for the sake of the succession, I demand to see some evidence that the man still breathes.’

      ‘That he still breathes? Of all the ridiculous things you have said, Rupert, I think that this is the worst. You are his closest living relative. And his heir. If the Earl of Folbroke had died, you would have been notified of it immediately.’

      ‘If you chose to tell me.’ He was looking at her with a suspicious cat’s gaze, as though he was sure, if he stared long enough, she would admit to a body buried beneath the floorboards.

      ‘Of course I would tell you if something had happened to Adrian. What reason would I have to conceal the truth from you?’

      ‘Every reason in the world. Do you think I cannot see how you are left