“Why do I frighten you, Lily?”
She shook her head vehemently, appalled at her cowardice. “You don’t!”
He was her husband, after all. It wasn’t as though he would hurt her in any way. It was herself she feared, what she might become if she let herself respond fully. “I told you I’m not afraid of you.”
His chuckle was wry. “Well, darling, you scare the hell out of me.”
Surprised, her train of thought lost, she turned to face him. “I do?”
He nodded, one side of his mouth kicking up in a half smile. “Indeed. You are so different from any woman I have ever known.” He trailed one finger up her arm to her shoulder. “So very different.”
Lily closed her eyes and sighed. “I don’t know what you want.”
“Yes, you do. I want all of you, Lily. Everything within you. Everything you are!”
Praise for Lyn Stone’s recent titles
The Scot
“A delightful tale of a young woman determined to have freedom within her marriage, if not under the law.”
—Romantic Times
The Highland Wife
“Laced with lovable characters, witty dialogue, humor and poignancy, this is a tale to savor.”
—Romantic Times
Bride of Trouville
“I could not stop reading this one…. Don’t miss this winner!”
—Affaire de Coeur
The Knight’s Bride
“Stone has done herself proud with this delightful story…a cast of endearing characters and a fresh, innovative plot.”
—Publishers Weekly
The Viscount
Lyn Stone
This book is for Mary Ann Caissie, a friend I treasure.
Thanks for sharing good times and bad, kiddo. Your smile and optimism are priceless.
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
Epilogue
Chapter One
London—April 1859
L ily Bradshaw quickly rolled off the bed and bunched up the heavy blanket so it would appear that she lay there sleeping if anyone looked in. Then she crept over and huddled beside the locked door. There was no other place to hide. And then, not for long.
“Has she awakened?” a voice rasped. Though obviously intended as a whisper, it almost boomed within the near silence.
“I expect it will be a while, considering,” came the smooth, untroubled reply, hardly even muted below a normal conversational tone.
Lily had been awake for nearly an hour by her reckoning. She had lain, clutching at the scratchy blanket, frozen with fear as her eyes grew accustomed to the meager light from the small barred window set high in the door. The cell reeked of urine and despair. And it was cold. Very cold. She shivered now and deliberately slowed her breathing, knowing she could not afford panic.
“Is she in there alone?” A shadow blocked light for a few seconds as if someone peered inside, gave up the attempt to see anything and then moved away.
“Yes. We isolate new arrivals here until they can be examined and placed in the proper ward. No time for that yet, of course, since her admittance was an emergency of sorts. Would you care to see her?” Silky and dark, the tone was more frightening than that of the one growling the questions.
“Not necessary. You know what to do next?”
“Of course.” A short pause, then Silky Voice spoke again. “I will give her more of this laudanum tonight before she wakes completely. That will ensure she remains tractable. Then I will give her something stimulating to put her in top form for her examination. You have notified the proper authorities?”
“Word will be sent in the morning once I hear from you that all is in order here.”
“Excellent.”
Lily shivered and covered her mouth to stifle a whimper of terror. She was not precisely sure who her examiners were supposed to be, but from the howls and screams echoing through the walls and floors this past hour, she could make a ready guess. Someone had locked her in a madhouse and was planning to prove her insane.
Her next thought was of Beau. What had they done with her son? Surely he still remained safe at Sylvana Hall. Safe with his nurse, playing with his toys, reading his primer and doing his sums. No one had any reason whatsoever to harm a small lad of seven. But then, no one had reason to put her in an asylum, either. Or had they?
Suddenly as that, common sense caught up with her and she realized precisely who would benefit. With her declared insane, her husband’s brother Clive would gain control of both her son and his inheritance. And, as his uncle and only male relative, nothing would stand between Clive and the title. Except for the little boy who held it now.
Jonathan had died two years ago. Had Clive been waiting for enough time to pass after Jonathan’s death so that he wouldn’t rouse suspicion? Perhaps his own funds had run out. Or maybe greed had simply overcame him.
She could not say for certain whether
