>
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
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
The Incomparable Countess #156
Lady Lavinia’s Match #163
A Lady of Consequence #169
Mistress of Madderlea #177
The Hemingford Scandal #196
Marrying Miss Hemingford #199
Bachelor Duke #204
Dear Deceiver #213
An Unusual Bequest #218
The Reluctant Escort #226
Talk of the Ton #236
Working Man, Society Bride #244
A Desirable Husband #251
Runaway Miss #262
DON’T MISS THESE OTHER
NOVELS AVAILABLE NOW:
#947 STETSONS, SPRING AND WEDDING RINGS—Jillian Hart, Judith Stacy and Stacey Kayne
Meet Clara, Brynn and Constance as they go West. They are looking for new lives, and three forceful men are determined to be their new loves! They want to keep these courageous women where they belong—in their towns, in their hearts and, most of all, in their beds….
Romance blossoms in the West!
#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!
The Viscount and the governess…
#949 THE SURGEON’S LADY—Carla Kelly
Lady Laura Taunton seeks solace from her unhappy past by nursing the wounded, but naval surgeon Philemon Brittle would rather she sought pleasure in his arms! Can he convince her that marriage is the truest path to happiness…and passion?
A once-in-a-lifetime love.
#950 BEDDED BY THE WARRIOR—Denise Lynn
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….
Duty or desire?
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 with silver thread and a fine lawn shirt with lace flounces protruding from the sleeves. He wore several rings, a crumpled neckcloth and a quizzing glass dangling from his thick neck. A film of perspiration caked his face. His dark eyes were wary and a twitch in his jaw told of a man reaching the end of his tether.
Mr Jeremy Maddox was just twenty-one, a tulip of the first order. His shirt-collar points stood up against his cheeks and his cravat was tied in a flamboyant bow, the ends of which cascaded over his sky blue waistcoat. Undoubtedly his doting mama would have been horrified if she could see the company he was keeping.
The fourth man at the table, Viscount Alexander Malvers, was very different, both in appearance and demeanour. He eschewed the fanciful garb of the pink of the ton, for a well-cut cloth coat of forest green, a white waistcoat and a sensibly tied cravat. At thirty years old, he had come back from service in the Peninsula