My Lady's Honor. Julia Justiss

      

      “You miserable arrogant excuse for a gentleman,”

      she all but snarled, punctuating her epithet with another swipe from the whip.

      Gilen dodged the whirling thong and backed away, his initial astonishment giving way to incredulous delight. By heaven, she was magnificent! This girl still garbed like a proper ton maiden had changed before his eyes from demure virgin into the passionate creature who had told his fortune, teased his wits and tantalized him with a dance.

      “You find this amusing?” she choked out. And lashed the whip at him again.

      He ducked as the leather tip nearly caught his left ear. “If you can’t control yourself, I’ll have to disarm you.”

      Ah, that she might compel him to do it! With her body bound closely to his was exactly where this astonishing, intoxicating, intemperate vixen belonged.

      He couldn’t wait to see how her passionate nature played out in his bed…!

      Praise for Julia Justiss’s recent books

      My Lady’s Trust

      “With this exceptional Regency-era romance, Justiss adds another fine feather to her writing cap.”

      —Publishers Weekly

      The Proper Wife

      “Justiss is a promising new talent and readers will devour her tantalizing tale with gusto.”

      —Publishers Weekly

      A Scandalous Proposal

      “Ms. Justiss’s writing style makes it impossible to put this delightful tale down.”

      —Rendezvous

      The Wedding Gamble

      “This is a fast-paced story that will leave you wanting more…you won’t want to put it down!”

      —Newandusedbooks.com

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      Julia Justiss

      My Lady’s Honor

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

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      Available from Harlequin Historicals and

       JULIA JUSTISS

      The Wedding Gamble #464

      A Scandalous Proposal #532

      The Proper Wife #567

      My Lady’s Trust #591

      My Lady’s Pleasure #611

      My Lady’s Honor #629

      To my mother,

       Beatrice Ruth Langley,

       who taught me a woman can do anything.

       For your love and support,

       thanks, Mom.

      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

      Chapter Nineteen

      Chapter Twenty

      Chapter Twenty-One

      Chapter One

      “Your cousin Nigel—that is, the new Baron Southford, be awaitin’ ye in the library,” the maid informed her with a curtsey.

      Gwennor Southford sighed and removed the apron with which she’d covered her mourning gown while she helped Jenny and the staff clear away the remains of the breakfast they’d served after her father’s interment. “Thank you, Jenny. Tell him I will join him shortly.”

      While the maid departed, Gwen stopped to check her hair in the black-draped hall mirror, making sure no unruly strands had escaped her coiffeur to catch the eye of her punctilious cousin. A London dandy of the first stare, Nigel never failed to look at her without a slightly pained expression, as if she offended him by sporting soot on her nose or a spot on her gown. Which most of the time, she allowed, she probably did.

      Or perhaps it was just that, not being able to peer down at her from a superior height, cousin Nigel tried to intimidate her with his faintly contemptuous gazes. Though they did not succeed in leaving her in awe of him, she did often feel like a large, ugly and not very interesting beetle being inspected under a glass.

      Finding that her thick black hair, which had a tendency to curl wildly despite her efforts to subdue it, was still neatly braided, Gwen walked on to the library. She couldn’t imagine what cousin Nigel needed to say to her that could not have been expressed in front of a roomful of other guests.

      Perhaps he merely wished to complain—again—about the meals or accommodations. Which, she had no doubt, he would soon be “improving” by the addition of a foreign chef to create dishes more suitable to his cultured palate, followed by an army of workmen to update the century-old rooms to a more fashionable mien.

      She grimaced at the idea of her beloved home being transformed under his ruthless hand. Pray God she could convince him to send her to London for the upcoming Season, so she might find a husband and Parry and herself a new home.

      Damping down a niggle of unease, she knocked on the library door then entered.

      She had to suppress a pang at seeing her cousin lounging in her father’s favorite chair behind the massive desk. Wrenching her thoughts from reflections that could only bring on another wave of useless grief, she curtseyed and forced herself to focus on Nigel.

      Once again he subjected her to a lengthy, critical inspection.