“I owe you a debt I can never repay.”
“Were it in my power, I’d go to the ends of the earth to grant you your heart’s desire.” He smiled, his face lightening. “Now what, I wonder, would such a calm and quiet lady desire most in the world?”
Freedom from fear. The thought flashed into her head on a stab of longing. “M-my needs are few, my lord. I’m quite content.”
The earl chuckled. “A lady with no demands? What an extraordinary creature!”
“Not at all. Alas, I’m entirely ordinary.”
The wryness of her rejoinder faded, replaced by a curious mingling of alarm and anticipation as the earl stepped closer. She stood motionless, breath suspended. She could not make herself look away.
“No, my lady,” he said after a long moment. “Though you may be many things, ‘ordinary’ is certainly not one of them…!”
Praise for Julia Justiss’s previous works
The Proper Wife
“Justiss is a promising new talent and readers will devour her tantalizing tale with gusto.”
—Publishers Weekly
The Wedding Gamble
“A scintillating, thoroughly engaging, love story!”
—Romantic Times Magazine
“This is a fast-paced story that will leave you wanting more…you won’t want to put it down!”
—Newandusedbooks.com
A Scandalous Proposal
“Ms. Justiss’s writing style makes it impossible to put this delightful tale down.”
—Rendezvous
“Ms. Justiss captures the essence of the Regency period….A compelling, satisfying read.”
—Romantic Times Magazine
#592 CALL OF THE WHITE WOLF
Carol Finch
#593 DRAGON’S DOWER
Catherine Archer
#594 GOLD RUSH BRIDE
Debra Lee Brown
My Lady’s Trust
Julia Justiss
Available from Harlequin Historicals and
JULIA JUSTISS
The Wedding Gamble #464
A Scandalous Proposal #532
The Proper Wife #567
My Lady’s Trust #591
In memory of fellow writer
Nancy Richards-Akers shot to death by her estranged husband June 1999 and to all women caught in domestic abuse. Get help. Get out. Your children need you.
Contents
Prologue
Soundlessly Laura crept through the dark hall. Having rehearsed—and used—the route before, she knew every carpet, chair and cupboard in the passageway, each twist of the twenty-nine steps down the servants’ stair to the back door. Even were their old butler Hobbins and his wife not snoring in their room just off the corridor, the winter storm howling through the chimneys and rattling the shutters would cover the slight rustle of her movements.
Just once she halted in her stealthy passage, outside the silent nursery. Leaning toward the door, she could almost catch a whiff of baby skin, feel the softness of flannel bunting, see the bright eyes and small waving hands. A bitter bleakness pierced her heart, beside whose chill the icy needles being hurled against the windows were mild as summer rain,
