The Cinderella Countess. Sophia James

      Her vibrant blue eyes watched him in memory and for just a second he wondered what it would be like to have her beneath him tumbling into his bed.

      The shock of that brought him to a standstill. There was no way in the world that he could enjoy her like that. The next woman he bedded would have to be his wife and she would need credentials and breeding that were incomparable to become a countess.

      Still, the vision of Annabelle Smith naked with her dark curtain of hair falling around them was hard to shake off. Was she a virgin? Had she any experience with the pleasures of the flesh? God, even that thought had him hardening, here in the street with the daylight of London all about him and myriad shoppers walking past.

      He could teach her everything he knew, every nuance of desire.

      ‘Thorn.’ The voice came through a haze and he turned to find Summerley Shayborne crossing the street to reach him.

      ‘You look preoccupied.’

      He smiled. ‘I’ve just come from the bank.’

      ‘Good news?’ Shay knew of the trouble he’d been in last year with the estate when things had been turned upside down.

      ‘Everything is fine and long may it stay that way.’

      ‘You’re the new and shining light of the financial world, I hear. An earl who seems to be able to pinpoint a lucrative investment without comparison? Most peers are holding on to the family plot by their fingernails, but it seems your latest project has just come through with flying colours.’

      ‘The canning factory outside London? People need to eat and preserved fruit and vegetables are within the budget of most. Every large town in England by the end of the year will sport such a factory. Come in with me as a partner. I’ll get Lian and Edward on board as well.’

      ‘You’re serious?’

      ‘I am.’

      ‘When can we draw up the contracts?’ Shay looked excited.

      ‘Next week. But keep it quiet for I don’t want someone else beating me to the post.’

      ‘Have a drink with us now, then. Celeste is at the town house and we would love your company.’

      ‘Very well.’ He hailed his carriage and they both piled in.

      Lytton had always admired Shay’s wife. She was tough in a way that intrigued him and beautiful enough to take his breath away every time he saw her.

      She also was nothing like the bride that the ton had thought the lauded Summerley Shayborne, Viscount Luxford, would choose for himself.

      * * *

      ‘You said you would come to Luxford in the early summer, Thorn, but you didn’t.’ Celeste looked puzzled.

      ‘I’ve been at Balmain for quite a few weeks because my sister has been sick. We have only just returned to town.’

      ‘I’ve heard that just lately she is making some sort of a recovery?’

      ‘I hope so. I have engaged a healer to try to coax her out of bed where she has been languishing. Miss Annabelle Smith from Whitechapel is her name and she seems to be making quite a difference.’

      ‘The herbalist? She is the woman my lady’s maid was speaking of so highly the other day, Summer. I should very much like to meet her. Is she at your town house this week seeing your sister?’

      ‘Tomorrow she is, but only very early. At nine. She keeps unusual hours.’

      ‘Could we call in? It might be my only chance to talk with the woman and she sounds more than fascinating.’

      ‘Well, I don’t see why not.’

      Lytton had organised a meeting for the morning, but he supposed he could cancel it. His thoughts from earlier on had not left him and he felt...anxious. He could not quite imagine Annabelle Smith chatting about things with his sister and Celeste over jam scones and a cup of tea. He wondered, too, if Celeste had read any of the writings of Mary Wollstonecraft?

      * * *

      It was her birthday.

      Well, her birthday as Tante Alicia had deemed it given she was four when she had turned up in the French village without any past whatsoever.

      The third of July. A hot morning in the village of Moret-sur-Loing when a nun had delivered a sick child to the house of the local healer and pleaded for the girl to be taken in.

      This much she did know for Alicia had retold this story over and over and never a mention of the people who had abandoned her.

      Annabelle had celebrated today with a new pair of stockings and a fresh orange. She had also fashioned her hair a little differently this morning, doing away with the heavy scarf and pinning it about her face. The curls escaped, of course, but rather than detracting from the whole picture she thought that they added to it. For some reason today she felt lighter and happier than she had in months and the sun above was a part of that, too.

      She hoped Lady Lucy had read the book she had given her. She hoped she had kept eating, too. If she had, then the change in her from last week to this one should be more than noticeable.

      A carriage standing before the Thornton town house had Belle frowning. She did not recognise it and hoped that there were not visitors who would take away time she would have with the Earl’s sister. The horses were most handsome and the liveried driver on the box seat tipped his hat at her.

      ‘Morning, miss. It’s a fine day outside, to be sure.’

      She smiled back at him and made her way up the steps, the door opened by a servant she had not met before.

      ‘The master is expecting you, miss. He is in the blue salon. I will take you through.’

      Dispensing with her coat and hat, she followed him and heard the conversation between a group of people getting louder by the moment.

      She stopped and the servant looked around.

      ‘I think there has been a mistake. I am here to see Miss Staines only. I have been attending to her medical needs.’

      ‘You are Miss Smith, are you not?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Well then, you are to come right this way.’

      Belle straightened down her skirts as she went, a sort of dawning horror rising in her stomach. She did not wish to meet other guests of this house. She would not be accepted by anyone in society and surely the Earl of Thornton would know this.

      The door opened. The Earl stood by the mantel with two strangers, a beautiful woman and a tall and handsome man. When the Earl saw her he excused himself and came to her side.

      ‘I thought before you went upstairs to see my sister you may like to meet Lord and Lady Luxton.’

      Belle took in a breath. This was a situation she had not come across before and she was silent as she watched for cues.

      ‘Miss Smith.’ The woman spoke first. ‘I am Celeste Shayborne and I have heard much about your ministry in Whitechapel. My husband is most interested in hearing about it, too.’

      As if to underline this as a truth the man beside her nodded.

      ‘It seems your fame proceeds you, Miss Smith.’ Lord Luxford spoke now for the first time, though Belle wondered at his tone. He did not sound quite as pleased as his wife. The social conventions worried her.

      Should she curtsy before this lord as she spoke or was that unnecessary?

      ‘Mine is a small clinic but in an area where there are many supplicants. I am quite perplexed that you have even heard of it.’

      * * *

      She used her voice like a weapon, Lytton thought, the low and husky tone surprising, but not as surprising as the