The Lady Forfeits. Carole Mortimer

       Diana sipped her tea delicately before answering. ‘Surely the reason for my being here is obvious, my lord?’

      ‘Perhaps to make enquiries about your two sisters?’

      ‘That was my first concern, yes.’

      ‘And your second?’ That nerve was once again pulsing in Gabriel’s jaw, and if he was not mistaken he was developing a twitch in his left eyelid too!

      Diana sat forward to carefully place her empty teacup down upon the silver tray, that slight adjustment in her pose revealing more of the deep swell of her creamy breasts. Full and plump breasts, Gabriel noted admiringly, and slightly at odds with the slenderness of the rest of her, revealed by the cut of her gown. Born and raised in the country or not, Diana Copeland was every inch a lady, he noted as his gaze trailed down her graceful slim arms and her elegant hands in their white lace gloves. A self-confident and outspoken young lady who—

      ‘My second reason for awaiting your arrival here is, of course, that I have decided to accept your offer of marriage.’

       AUTHOR NOTE

      I’ve always delighted in reading stories of love and adventure set in the Regency period, and it really is a dream come true for me to now be able to write these stories myself. To be able to indulge that love to the full, to live in that period for months at a time, if only in my imagination. In fact, it’s sometimes been a shock to come back to the reality of modern times and realise that, yes, I do have washing to put on, food shopping to do, and dinner to cook for my husband and all those sons!

      I really hope that you enjoy reading Diana’s story, and about the unlikely Earl who falls in love with her, as much as I have enjoyed being a part of their lives.

      Look for

      The Lady Confesses Coming soon in

       The Copeland Sisters

      CAROLE MORTIMER was born in England, the youngest of three children. She began writing in 1978, and has now written over one hundred and fifty books for Harlequin Mills & Boon®. Carole has six sons: Matthew, Joshua, Timothy, Michael, David and Peter. She says, ‘I’m happily married to Peter senior; we’re best friends as well as lovers, which is probably the best recipe for a successful relationship. We live in a lovely part of England.’

       Previous novels by the same author:

       In Mills & Boon^® Historical Romance:

      THE DUKE’S CINDERELLA BRIDE*

       THE RAKE’S INDECENT PROPOSAL*

       THE ROGUE’S DISGRACED LADY*

       LADY ARABELLA’S SCANDALOUS MARRIAGE*

       THE LADY GAMBLES**

      *The Notorious St Claires **The Copeland Sisters

      You’ve read about The Notorious St Claires in Regency times. Now you can read about the new generation in Mills & Boon^® Modern^™ Romance:

      The Scandalous St Claires Three arrogant aristocrats—ready to be tamed! JORDAN ST CLAIRE: DARK AND DANGEROUS THE RELUCTANT DUKE TAMING THE LAST ST CLAIRE

       Carole Mortimer has written a further 150 novels for Modern^™ Romance.

      And in Mills & Boon^® Historical Undone! eBooks:

      AT THE DUKE’S SERVICE

       CONVENIENT WIFE, PLEASURED LADY

       Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks?

       Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

      The Lady

       Forfeits

      Carole Mortimer

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      With thanks to all at HMB for helping to make my dream a reality.

       Chapter One

      ‘Good God, Nathaniel, what have you done to yourself?’ Lord Gabriel Faulkner, Earl of Westbourne, exclaimed with less than his usual haughty aplomb.

      Gabriel had come to an abrupt halt in the doorway of the bedchamber on first sighting his friend as he lay prostrate upon the bed. Lord Nathaniel Thorne’s, Earl of Osbourne’s, face was an array of cuts and rainbow-coloured bruises; a wide bandage about the bareness of his muscled chest attested to the possibility of several ribs also being broken.

      ‘Begging your pardon, ma’am.’ Gabriel recovered himself enough to turn and give an apologetic bow to the lady standing in the hallway beside him.

      ‘Not at all, my lord,’ Mrs Gertrude Wilson, Osbourne’s aunt, dismissed briskly. ‘I suffered the same feelings of shock upon first seeing the extent of my nephew’s injuries four days ago.’

      ‘Would the two of you stop discussing me as if I were not here?’ The patient was obviously less than pleased with this development.

      ‘The physician said you are to rest, Nathaniel,’ his aunt instructed sternly before turning that same steely-eyed attention on Gabriel. ‘I will leave the two of you to talk now, my lord. But for no longer than ten minutes,’ she warned. ‘As you see, Nathaniel is more in need of peace and quiet than conversation.’ She turned back into the hallway. ‘Come along, Betsy,’ she added. ‘It is time for Hector’s walk.’

      Gabriel was rendered completely mystified by this last comment until another figure stepped out from the shadows of the hallway: a young, slender girl, with ebony curls surrounding the pale oval of a face made beautiful by huge blue eyes, clutching a small white dog in her arms.

      ‘If I have to suffer much more of this mollycoddling I will very likely resort to wringing someone’s neck,’ Nathaniel grumbled as soon as his aunt and her companion had departed and the two gentlemen were at last left alone in the bedchamber. ‘It is so good to see you, Gabe,’ he added more warmly as he struggled to sit up, the grimace on his face evidence, despite his denials, that it was a painful business.

      ‘Stay where you are, man.’ Gabriel crossed to his friend’s bedside, the usual look of determination now back upon a haughtily handsome face dominated by shrewd midnight-blue eyes. Tall and dark, and dressed in a perfectly tailored black superfine, silver waistcoat and grey pantaloons above black Hessians, the Earl of Westbourne gave every appearance of being the fashionable English gentleman, despite having spent the last eight years roaming the Continent.

      Osbourne relaxed back against the many pillows behind him. ‘I had thought it was your intention to go straight to Shoreley Park when you arrived from Venice, rather than come up to London, Gabe? Which begs the question—?’

      ‘I believe your aunt has advised that you rest, Nate,’ Gabriel murmured, arching one arrogant brow.

      Osbourne scowled. ‘Having summarily removed me from my own home and into her own cloying care, I believe if my Aunt Gertrude were to have her way she would now have me tied to the bed and all visitors refused entry.’

      Despite his friend’s grumbling, Gabriel realised Nate’s aunt had done the correct thing as Nate so obviously found any movement extremely painful and couldn’t fend for himself. ‘What happened to you, Nate?’ he asked as he folded his elegant length on to the chair placed beside the bed.