A Maid for the Disguised Viscount (Preview)

Prologue

“Lauren, come in here, please.”

Lauren Dunn stiffened at the sound of her brother’s voice. The last thing she wanted right now was to speak to Frank. She’d just come home from her parent’s funeral, and all she wanted was to retire to her room and be alone, to say nothing to anyone for the next several days.

Lauren felt as if she had been walking through a nightmare—one she couldn’t seem to wake up from. It had started with the brutal attack, when someone had broken into their home and murdered Baron Cresswell and his wife in their bed. Though Lauren had been spared and had never even encountered the murderer, she would never forget the sound of screams jerking her from her sleep. She would never forget the way her heart had pounded as she had raced to her parents’ room, nor would she forget the way the bile had risen in her throat when she’d seen their bodies. She had only been there a moment before a servant had come and taken her away, but she felt the shock of it would never leave her.

And Frank had only made matters worse for her. There was nothing comforting about her brother’s presence. She could imagine that some siblings might come closer together in the face of a tragedy like theirs, but Frank wasn’t the sort to do that. He had been colder to her than ever before. He hadn’t even bothered to attend the funeral for very long—he had put in an appearance and had hurried home as soon as he’d felt he could do so without causing a scandal.

Still, Lauren knew she would be making more trouble for herself if she refused to acknowledge her brother’s summons. She steeled herself for an unpleasant conversation and went into his study.

He didn’t look up at her when she came in. It still made Lauren feel angry to see him in this room. Though Frank was a good deal older than she was and had left his father’s home years ago, he hadn’t hesitated to come home quickly when the news of the tragedy had reached him. He was the baron now, of course, and Cresswell Manor was his, but Lauren couldn’t help feeling as if there was something disrespectful to their father in the way he was handling the whole affair.

Not that that was surprising. Frank was disrespectful to everyone.

“Sit down,” he told her, speaking as if he had authority over her.

But because he had inherited this house, he did, in fact, have authority. There was nothing Lauren could do about that. She sank into a chair.

“We need to discuss the future,” her brother said. 

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” Lauren couldn’t think of anything serious enough that it would need to be discussed tonight. “I’m tired, Frank. I’ve been at the funeral. I want to be alone with my thoughts.”

“I’m afraid it can’t wait,” Frank said. “You need to know what’s ahead, and it would be doing you a disservice not to tell you as soon as possible.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to be moving my family into this house.”

A part of Lauren had expected that. She had held onto the hope that it might not happen. She didn’t care for her brother’s wife, Matilda, and though their two small children were unobjectionable, they were also noisy and demanded a lot of attention. They would want Lauren to devote her time to them, and that wasn’t something she wanted to do in this season of her life. She wanted to focus on herself.

“When will they be moving in?” she asked.

“I’ve delayed it for one week,” Frank said. “I wanted to give you the time to make other arrangements.”

Lauren frowned. “Other arrangements?”

“Sophie is going to need your room.” Sophie, his daughter. “And Maxwell will need the spare. There won’t be any room for you here, so you’re going to have to leave the house.”

Lauren was sure she must have misunderstood him. “This is my home.”

“It’s not yours. This place has never been yours,” Frank said. “It belonged to our father. It belongs to the barony. But it isn’t yours, Lauren. You lived here because you were the baron’s daughter, but that’s no longer true.”

“I’m your sister.”

“Half-sister,” he said coldly. “And I’m telling you that I have no room for you here. I can’t care for you. By rights, you should have moved out already. You’ve had three seasons in which to find a suitable husband. I’m not sure what stopped you, but it’s not my responsibility to keep you here.”

Lauren found that she was shaking, the shock and fear of the moment threatening to overcome her. “Mother and Father always said—they always said there was no rush. That I could take my time and find the right person when the time came.”

“It seems that was a poor decision,” Frank said evenly. “If you were married now, you would be in the care of someone who was responsible for you. That’s what you ought to have done. I won’t make the same mistake when my daughter is your age. I’ll encourage her to find herself a husband as quickly as possible. But then, maybe it wasn’t your fault. Maybe no one would have you.”

He didn’t say it as if he was trying to be hurtful. He said it as if it was the obvious conclusion. But it still stung.

“You can’t throw me out,” Lauren said. “I haven’t anywhere to go.”

“That’s something you’ll have to figure out for yourself. I’m being kind by giving you a week to resolve the matter,” Frank said. “You won’t be the first young woman to fend for herself in the world.”

“But those young women aren’t the younger sisters of barons!” Lauren protested.

“Half-sister,” Frank said again. “You know how I felt about Father’s marriage to your mother. I don’t believe I ever made a secret of it. You spent your entire life as their favorite. They doted upon you. Well, don’t expect the same treatment from me. You’re going to have to make your own way in the world now. You have one week to leave my house.”

“Frank—” Lauren felt sick. Though she hated the thought of it, she was prepared to start begging. She couldn’t make it in the world on her own. He couldn’t expect her to. Surely, he couldn’t.

But he had turned away. His attention was on the papers on his desk. “That’s all,” he said, and she knew she was being dismissed from the study.

She got to her feet in a state of shock. Surely this couldn’t be happening. How could he be throwing her out of the house that was the only home she had ever known? Frank was right about the fact that she had always known how little he thought of her, how little he respected her and her mother, and that he had not approved of their father’s second marriage. But she had never believed he would take it out on her like this. None of it had been her fault. She hadn’t even been born when it had all happened, so how could Frank blame her like this? How could he want to ruin her life over something she couldn’t possibly control?

For that was what his demand would do. Her life would be destroyed. It was nearly impossible to believe that it was really going to happen—that she would really be forced to leave—because she couldn’t imagine what it was going to look like for her. To think that she would be forced out of this house in just seven days’ time! Where would she be on the eighth day? Would she have a roof over her head? Would she have food to eat?

Her heart and her mind raced in unison. She could find no answers to the questions that suddenly assailed her. It was impossible. She would never make it through this.

The only thing she knew for certain was that there was no help to be had from Frank. He had never cared about her, and she was sure that he had meant every word he’d said. As of this moment, he was finished with her.

She was on her own.

 

Chapter One

Two Years Later

“Do you know who I just thought about?” Andrew Harding’s mother asked abruptly, setting down her wine.

Andrew looked up from the book he had been reading. His mother’s question had been rather abrupt, but that was the way she tended to be sometimes—flighty, skipping from one topic to the next, alighting on each one only briefly. It was a quality he was fond of, even though it could be a bit difficult to follow sometimes. “Who did you think of?” he asked. 

“Your old friend Lauren Dunn,” his mother said. “The baron’s daughter. Do you remember her?”

“Of course I do,” Andrew said. “Lauren and I were friends for years.”

“I do believe today is her birthday,” his mother said. “Isn’t that right? Do you recall?” 

“I’m afraid I don’t,” Andrew said. “But you know I’ve never had much of a head for dates, Mother.”

“Well, that’s true enough,” his mother agreed. “Have you heard from her recently? I can’t seem to recall you mentioning her.

“I haven’t heard anything from her in a long time,” Andrew said. As it happened, it was a topic that caused him some unease, and he tried not to spend too much time thinking about it, for it felt as if there was nothing he could do. But now that his mother had asked, the matter was on his mind. “Lauren and I agreed that we would write to one another when our family left London for Italy so that we could open this vineyard,” he explained. “And for a few years, we did. But then, two years ago, we lost touch with one another.”

“Around the time of her parents’ deaths, then. You never told me that.” 

“I found it difficult to talk about,” Andrew admitted. “It was just so strange. I wrote to her a few times, and the letters went unanswered. And then, one day, I received a note informing me that she was no longer living at that address.”

“Well, she would be of age now,” his mother said. “Perhaps she married. Were you given another address where you might be able to reach her?”

“No, nothing,” Andrew said. “In fact, I even wrote back requesting a new address for her, but I was given no reply. I never heard anything again.”

“Who did the final note come from?”

“Her brother Frank,” Andrew said. “He was always rather odd. But if she had married, surely he would have simply told me that and given me information about how I could reach her. The fact that she stopped communicating with me so abruptly always suggested to me that something else was going on.”

“What do you think it was?”

“I have no idea,” Andrew said. 

“I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” Andrew’s father spoke up, joining the conversation for the first time. “It was a long time ago that the two of you were friends—you were children then. I’m sure nothing nefarious is happening. It’s just that you no longer know anything about one another’s lives. Perhaps her brother simply doesn’t think it appropriate for her to be exchanging letters with a gentleman. Maybe he worries that it will drive potential suitors away from her if they find out about it.”

“I suppose that’s possible,” Andrew said. “I’ve never felt comfortable about it. But you’re right. It could have been something of that nature.”

“You’d do well to let it go,” his father said.

“I am going to be in London next week,” Andrew said slowly.

“I know that face,” his mother accused. “You’re cooking up an idea.”

“Well, perhaps I could look in on her while I’m there. As you said, it’s her birthday. I could pay her a call.”
“If she’s living somewhere else now, how will you find her?”

“I can go to Cresswell Manor and ask her brother where she is.” Andrew shrugged. “It should be easy enough.”

“I wouldn’t get involved in this, Andrew,” his father warned. “You might not like what you find if you do.”

But Andrew was hardly listening. He was already taken with the idea, already imagining what it would be like to see her face again.

***

“Should we try to catch up to our parents?” twelve-year-old Andrew asked, squinting to look ahead at his mother and father on the park path.

“No,” Lauren said, laughing. She had left the path altogether and was skipping along by the edge of the lake. “They’ll only tell us to stay away from the water.”
“Are you thinking of going in the water?” Lauren had always been so bold and daring, especially for a girl. Andrew was impressed by her.

“I’m not going in,” she said. “It’s too cold for that. But I want to get a look.” She stepped out onto a mossy rock.

As soon as she did, her foot slipped out from under her. Her arms flailed, and she began to fall.

Andrew reached out, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her back onto the shore. He held her for a moment as she gasped for breath, and then they both burst out laughing. 

“Good thing our parents didn’t see that,” Andrew said. “They would never have allowed us out of their sight again!”

Lauren gave his hand a squeeze and hurried along the bank ahead of him a little, undaunted by the incident. 

Andrew looked out over the water for a moment. The river was cool and clear, but he knew how dangerous it could be—how fast the current was, how deep it was in the center. If she had fallen in, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to reach her in time to save her. He wasn’t sure he would have had the strength to fight the current. The thought disturbed him.

And no sooner had it occurred to him than he heard a shriek and a splash.

He whirled around. Someone was running away up the bank—it looked like a man—but he had no time to process that fact, because Lauren was in the water. 

She was already being carried downstream. Andrew let out a yell and ran after her, stripping off his coat, readying himself to go in after her—but he never got the chance.

Two arms caught him and held him. It took him a moment to recognize that it was his father. He watched in shock and horror as Lauren’s father threw himself into the river, arms out, struggling toward Lauren…

He reached her. Pulling her into his arms, he started back toward the shore. When they drew near, Andrew’s father released him, and they both hurried down the bank to help their friends from the water.

“He pushed me!” Lauren cried as she was pulled up onto the shore. “That man pushed me!”

“What man?” her father asked urgently, looking around—the figure was long gone.

“I saw him too,” Andrew spoke up. “I saw him running away after she fell in. He was here, all right.”

“We’d better take a quick look around,” Andrew’s father said. He started across the grass.

“Will you stay with her?” Lauren’s father asked Andrew.

Andrew nodded somberly.

Lauren was shaking with shock and cold, so Andrew put his arms around her. “You’re all right,” he told her firmly. “I don’t know who pushed you, but I promise you that you’re safe now. I won’t let anybody get to you ever again, I promise.”

***

The memory was as fresh in Andrew’s mind as if it had happened yesterday. 

He had promised to protect her. He had promised that nothing bad would ever happen to her.

And it was true that at the time, on that day, he had only been thinking of the possibility of someone pushing her into the river again. But now he wondered whether perhaps he should have considered that promise before leaving for Italy with his family. Perhaps he had been wrong to leave her behind.

What a thought. What else could I have done—stayed in London rather than come to Italy with my family? All because of a childhood promise?

No, that didn’t make sense. He hadn’t done anything wrong back then. But he felt more determined than ever to find her when he visited London and to make sure that everything was all right.

---

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