Runaway Miss. Mary Nichols

      

      My God, she was beautiful!

      He wanted to pull her into his arms to kiss her, but she was not the sort of woman you could do that to—not suddenly and for no reason. What in heaven’s name was she doing here, wandering among the buttercups and daisies, miles from home? Who was she?

      He felt it too, this strange alchemy, and he supposed it had been there from the start of this strange journey. It was why he was determined to escort her, even when she made it plain she did not want an escort. It wasn’t only the mystery surrounding her—perhaps there was no mystery and she was exactly what she said she was—it was something about the girl herself. Her beauty, her courage and independence, all the attributes he had said would make her unfit to be a lady’s companion, were the very things which drew him to her.

      Runaway Miss

      Harlequin^®Historical

      MILLS & BOON

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      MARY NICHOLS

      Born in Singapore, Mary Nichols came to England when she was three, and has spent most of her life in different parts of East Anglia. She has been a radiographer, school secretary, information officer and industrial editor, as well as a writer. She has three grown-up children, and four grandchildren.

      Runaway Miss

      MARY NICHOLS

      TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

       AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

       STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

       PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

      Available from Harlequin^®Historical and MARY NICHOLS

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      #948 LORD BRAYBROOK’S PENNILESS BRIDE—Elizabeth Rolls

      Viscount Braybrook is paying Christiana Daventry to keep her wayward brother far away from his stepsister. But when he realizes he wants to keep Christy intimately close, suddenly his heart is at risk from the one thing money can’t buy—love!

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      #949 THE SURGEON’S LADY—Carla Kelly

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      Newly wedded, Lady Sarah of Remy has a hidden purpose—one that shouldn’t involve being passionately bedded by her warrior husband! William of Bronwyn also has his own reasons for the marriage, but his secretive wife is too alluring to resist….

      At her warrior’s command!

      #261 MARRIED BY CHRISTMAS—Anne Herries

      Josephine Horne ignores convention. She never intends to marry, so why be hedged about with rules? When loyalty to a friend demands Jo risk her own reputation, she doesn’t hesitate. Then handsome Harry Beverley forces her ideas about marriage to change….

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      Contents

      Prologue

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Prologue

      1816

      It was almost dawn, the eastern sky over the chimney pots of St James’s bore a distinct pink tinge, and soon the sun’s rays would penetrate to the level of the street and the creatures of the night, human and animal, would disappear and those of the day make an appearance. But the gentlemen sitting at the card table in the gaming room of Brooks’s club were unaware of the time. The heavy curtains in the room were drawn against the windows and the only light was from the lamps that had been burning all night, so that now the room was stuffy and malodorous.

      The previous evening it had been crowded, all the tables filled, but as midnight approached the first players began to leave, followed by others until, by three in the morning, only one foursome remained intent on their game. Hovering over them, wishing he could go home to his bed, was a liveried, bewigged footman whose task it was to make sure their glasses remained full. Except what was necessary to further the game, no one had spoken for hours.

      The four men—Lord Cecil Bentwater, Sir George Tasker, Mr Jeremy Maddox and Viscount Alexander Malvers—were so absorbed that the time of day, even the day of the week, hunger or families and servants patiently waiting for them to come home meant nothing at all. Lord Bentwater, who had the largest pile of coins and vowels beside his elbow, was in his middle to late fifties, dressed entirely in black, unrelieved except for a white neckcloth in which reposed a glittering diamond pin. He had a pasty complexion and dark glittering eyes.

      Sir George Tasker was a year or two younger, dressed in a single-breasted green coat, a waistcoat of cream satin embroidered