An Unexpected Countess

“Dash it, Miss Forrester, what are you doing up here?”

The Earl of Hartwick delights in scandalizing the ton with his behavior. But it’s his turn to be scandalized when, on an escapade, he bumps into Miss Sarah Forrester—in the rain, at night, on a rooftop!

Sarah is hunting for a diamond, and the last thing she needs is the infuriating Hart distracting her. But he’s looking for the jewel, too! They may be rivals, but the sparks between them are uncontrollable. And soon Sarah finds herself longing for another treasure—becoming Hart’s countess!

Secret Lives of the Ton

What Society doesn’t know...

Meet Julian Carlisle, the Duke of Lyonsdale, Gabriel Pearce, the Duke of Winterbourne, and Phineas Attwood, the Earl of Hartwick.

In the eyes of the Ton, these three gentlemen are handsome, upstanding men who—mostly!—play by the rules. But what Society doesn’t know is that behind closed doors these three men are living scandalous lives and hiding scandalous secrets!

Read Julian’s story in

An Unsuitable Duchess

Read Gabriel’s story in

An Uncommon Duke

And read Hart’s story in

An Unexpected Countess

All available now!

Author Note

Hart and Sarah weren’t supposed to fall in love. When I started writing An Unsuitable Duchess I simply intended them to be the best friends of my hero and heroine. But as I wrote that book it became obvious to me that these two would be perfect together. They needed their own story, and that story would open with them running into each other on a rooftop in London in the middle of the night. I just needed to figure out why they were there!

Around that time I read an article about the Sancy Diamond. This diamond was once part of the pre-Commonwealth Crown Jewels of England, but was sold by James II to Cardinal Mazarin in 1657. In 1792 the Sancy, along with the rest of the French Crown Jewels, was stolen when the Royal Treasury was stormed during the French Revolution. The Sancy Diamond disappeared, and its whereabouts was unknown until Prince Demidoff, a Russian nobleman, bought it from an unnamed source in 1828. The mystery of where it had been for thirty-six years was too intriguing to pass up, and it gave me a reason to put Hart and Sarah on that roof.

I hope you enjoy reading their story. For information about my other releases visit my website at lauriebenson.net. While you’re there you can also search my blog to find information about some of the other interesting historical titbits I uncovered while doing research for this book.

An Unexpected Countess

Laurie Benson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LAURIE BENSON is an award-winning historical romance author and Golden Heart® Award finalist. She began her writing career as an advertising copywriter, where she learned more than anyone could ever want to know about hot dogs and credit score reports. When she isn’t at her laptop, avoiding laundry, Laurie can be found browsing in museums or taking ridiculously long hikes with her husband and two sons. You can visit her at lauriebenson.net.

Books by Laurie Benson

Mills & Boon Historical Romance

Secret Lives of the Ton

An Unsuitable Duchess

An Uncommon Duke

An Unexpected Countess

Visit the Author Profile page

at www.millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

For Lori, who crossed an ocean with me and let me drag her around London in search of hiding places. And for Mia, who has been on Team Hart from the beginning. This one is for the two of you.

A big thank-you to my editor, Kathryn Cheshire, for helping me bring Hart and Sarah to life. You’re a gem! And thanks to the rest of the team at Harlequin, especially Krista Oliver, Linda Fildew, Tilda McDonald, Miranda Indrigo and Lucy Gough for all you’ve done for me.

I’m very thankful to my agent, Courtney Miller-Callihan with Handspun Literary Agency, for helping me fulfil my dream of publishing all three books in this trilogy.

To my family–thanks for your support and encouragement while I worked on this book. I’m sorry about the dust bunnies and the empty refrigerator. At least we know a good pizza place that delivers. I love you guys!

And, last but far from least, thank you to my readers. Your enthusiasm and kind words about my books have truly touched my heart.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Secret Lives of the Ton

Author Note

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

London—1819

This wasn’t the first time Phineas Attwood, the Earl of Hartwick, had stepped onto a London rooftop at night in the rain—however, it was the first time he discovered he wasn’t alone.

Hart had to drag himself from Theodosia’s resplendent tester bed on such a dreary night. He wished he could have taken her once more, but there wasn’t time. Her husband would arrive home soon and Hart had no interest in running into the man. He could have been brazen and left by the front door, but there was nothing like the thrill of finding alternative ways to escape the town houses of his female companions—even if one was forced to do so during a downpour.

Shielding his eyes from the cold raindrops pelting his face, he stepped to the very edge of the roofline. Taunting death, he leaned over. It was a straight drop to Mount Street below, four storeys with nothing to grab on to or brace his feet against to climb down. It would also be in view of any approaching carriages.

To his left, the adjacent rooflines of the next three buildings ended at an alleyway that led to Reeves Mews. That appeared to be his best option. The building at the far end might have some architectural mouldings to aid his descent. Just as he was about to have a look, movement to his right caught his eye.

A slim, dark figure about fifty feet away was walking along the roof towards the back of an adjacent house. Apparently it was time for all assignations to come to an end. This gentleman was smart enough to wear a cape and cleric’s hat to shield himself from the rain, although Hart would wager he was no priest.

‘Fine weather for ducks,’ Hart called out.

His interruption startled the fellow so much the man lost his footing. Skidding over the slippery slate tiles, Hart caught him by the forearm the moment the man fell over the edge. It would be a long drop to the back gardens below.

Hart dug his fingers into the stranger’s arm and prayed he wouldn’t be pulled off the roof by the counterweight. ‘I have you,’ he ground out. ‘I won’t let you go.’

Even through his sleeve, Hart wouldn’t be surprised if the man’s nails were drawing blood as he held on to Hart for dear life while he dangled precariously over the edge. He didn’t have much meat on him, which made him appear more of a boy than a man. It didn’t take much effort to tug him back onto the roof.

A light mist was now falling, replacing the earlier downpour. A thank you was in order, however the huddled form next to him was silent as stone, probably mute with fear or shock. Pushing his hair away from his eyes, Hart surveyed his companion—and wished the rain would have continued to obscure his view.

‘Dash it, Miss Forrester, what are you doing up here?’

The daughter of the American Minister to the Court of St James sat up. The cape she wore parted just enough to reveal the open neckline of a gentleman’s black shirt and the curves of her breasts. He recalled seeing her wearing those clothes about a year ago at the Finchleys’ masquerade, where she’d had the nerve to dress as a highwayman, which had also been his costume of choice that night. Now her shapely legs were stretched out before her, encased in black trews and top boots. Those legs were just as enticing as he remembered.

‘Do not tell me you are leaving a masquerade from up here,’ he said, tearing his attention away from those legs to stop himself from imagining them wrapped around his waist.

She arched one of her finely shaped dark brows. ‘I’d ask where you’re coming from, but I can already guess. Is this the time your assignations typically come to an end?’

An unmarried woman should know nothing of assignations. In the few times he had been in her presence, he had noticed that Miss Sarah Forrester enjoyed unnerving people with her candour. He was not about to let her best him.

‘I’m coming from seeing a business associate. More important, does Katrina know you’re prowling the rooftops of London at night?’ he asked to regain the advantage. Katrina was the Duchess of Lyonsdale, a dear friend of Miss Forrester.

‘No.’ She looked away too quickly. Apparently his friend’s wife knew exactly what this chit was up to. He wondered if Katrina would have told Julian.

‘How were you planning on getting down from here?’ she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

‘That is the beauty of leaving in such a manner as this. It forces you to consider multiple options.’ The fact that he hadn’t decided how he would make it off the roof was inconsequential in this discussion.

The clomping of horse hooves and the rumble of carriage wheels on the street below caught their attention and they both crawled to the edge of the roof. A black lacquered carriage rolled to a stop directly below the house next to them and a footman from Theodosia’s house darted towards it, carrying a large black umbrella. Hart had left her bed just in time and smiled at his luck.

‘That might have been a bit awkward, if you remained longer with Lady Helmford,’ she said.

He had momentarily forgotten the pest was beside him.

She leaned closer and the faint scent of lilacs filled the damp air. Her brown eyes held amusement mixed with curiosity as she looked up at him. ‘Have you ever been caught?’

He scoffed at the absurdity of her question. ‘No.’

‘Never?’

‘Not once.’ His chest puffed up at his declaration, then he realised what he had revealed. Damn!

She sat back and removed her hat. The rain had stopped and she casually brushed the droplets off the brim and crown. ‘I hadn’t realised Lady Helmford was a business associate of yours.’

He hated when she found ways to use his habit of bragging against him. While she might believe she had the upper hand, it hadn’t escaped Hart’s notice that she had avoided his question.

‘And what brings you to this rooftop? You never did say.’

She shifted her gaze momentarily. ‘I’m intrigued by architecture.’

‘Architecture?’

‘Yes, you see I came out here to study the carvings on the buildings across the way.’

‘But you don’t live here.’

‘Of course I don’t. What good would it do me to study the buildings across from my home when I already took note of them ages ago?’

‘Is that really the best you could do?’

* * *

Sarah was not about to be found out by the likes of the Earl of Hartwick. No rakish buck was going to best her. She wasn’t one of those empty-headed women who would throw themselves at his feet just because he was charming and handsome—very handsome. And every time she was around him, she had the strongest urge to remind him of that.

‘Those houses across the way are a perfect example of Mr Kent’s work,’ she continued. ‘I couldn’t very well stand on this rooftop during daylight hours. Someone might see me.’ She had no idea what Mr Kent’s work looked like, but she knew he was an architect held in high regard.

‘William Kent?’ Hartwick shook his head and water droplets slid from his hair down his chiselled features.

Hoping to distract him, she brushed off her sopping wet trews.

His gaze shot to her thighs and remained there. ‘So you chose a rainy, dark night for your viewing pleasure?’

‘The opportunity presented itself and I took it. It wasn’t raining when I made my way here.’

‘I see. And how did you manage to sneak away from your parents for this escapade of architectural appreciation?’

He needed more of a distraction and rubbing her hand slowly along her thigh proved to be a good one. But all too soon Hartwick tossed his head, sweeping away a lock of black hair from his piercing blue eyes. ‘Your parents, Miss Forrester, how did you manage to elude them?’

Lud! He was like a dog with a bone. ‘I don’t see how it is your concern.’

‘True. Your welfare is none of my concern. I was merely making conversation—one impressive night prowler to the next.’

‘You can’t charm an answer from me.’

‘I wasn’t aware I was being charming. We’re merely conversing.’

‘You’re trying to flatter me.’

‘By calling you an impressive prowler? Darling, if I intended to flatter you, I would tell you how tempting you look in those trews.’

‘Thank you for the compliment, but I still have no intention of telling you anything.’

‘You misunderstand. I didn’t say you looked tempting. I only indicated that is what I would say if I were going to flatter you.’

Insufferable man! If only she could give him a firm push. But with her luck he would land on his back and see it as an invitation to activities he was most familiar with—or so she had heard. Standing up, she wiped her hands. ‘Well, I really must be off.’

He jumped to his feet. ‘What are you really doing up here?’

‘I told you. I was admiring the architecture.’

‘And I’m next in line for the throne.’ He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. ‘Are you coming from a rendezvous with a man?’

The horror on his face was rich considering his philandering ways, but if it would get him to stop asking questions, there was no harm in a small lie. ‘Perhaps.’ Gossip was rich with tales of his escapades with women. She doubted he would be one to talk of a small indiscretion of hers or even find her significant enough to discuss at all.

‘Perhaps? Perhaps? What kind of man leaves a woman to find her way out of an assignation by herself? Any man worth his salt would visit the lady, not the other way around.’

‘I live with my parents,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘And you seem more appalled by my exit than at the assignation itself.’

‘I’m the last person to judge anyone’s moral character.’ As if counting out the town houses they were standing on, his finger paused on the building under them. ‘Miss Forrester, he is old enough to be your father.’ He visibly shuddered. ‘I always assumed you had finer taste than this.’

She pushed past him, splashing through puddles on her way to the vacant town house at the end of the row. There was no reason for him to be insulting. Lord Baxter was not as handsome as Hartwick, and about twenty years older than the Earl, but he was not an antidote by any means. He was...mature. And why did she feel the need to mentally defend a man she was barely acquainted with? Her hands curled into fists.

Hartwick went after her and grabbed her arm. ‘Where do you think you’re off to?’

‘I’m leaving. I’ve been up here long enough.’

His brow wrinkled. ‘How do you propose we get down?’

‘We are not getting down. You stated you had a multitude of solutions of your own. I’m finding my own way down.’

‘Don’t you enjoy my company?’

‘Not particularly.’

He gave her a devilish grin. ‘Now I know you are lying.’

‘Women can resist you, Hartwick.’

He laughed. ‘There aren’t many.’

‘Well, I can,’ she stated firmly. ‘Now, do release my arm. I have places to be.’

‘Very well, go your own way. I’ll go mine. But you do take the pleasure out of an evening such as this.’ He granted her a slow, exaggerated bow.

She was fun to be with. He just thought too highly of himself to appreciate her. That was the problem. She made her way to one of the back dormer windows and carefully edged along the thin strip of roofing in front of it. She was paused precariously on the edge and her hands began to tremble. One false move and she could tumble backwards off the roof, splattering on the terrace below. Would she have a better chance of living if she aimed for the shrubbery? How much blood did one body contain?

‘What are you waiting for?’

She jerked back and Hartwick grabbed her, pressing her cheek into a cold, wet windowpane. Her heart almost beat out of her chest.

‘Stop doing that!’

He let go of her. ‘If you plan to skulk about in the future, you need to pay better attention to your surroundings.’

‘I told you to find your own way down.’

‘I was, then I saw you mumbling at the window and decided you needed my assistance.’

‘I can do this myself.’

She went to push the bottom sash of the window up, but it wouldn’t budge. He went to have a go at it and she swatted his hand away. ‘I said. I. Can. Do. It. Myself!’

He held his hands up. A few leftover raindrops trickled down the brim of her hat. If he did anything to make her fall backwards off this roof, she was pulling him along with her. The pounding of her heart in her ears was so loud she didn’t hear the creak of the window as she finally nudged the stubborn sash up. Letting out a breath of relief, she closed her eyes.

‘You should make certain no one is about before you enter that room. Unless you would like me to use the charms you say I possess to enchant any maids that might be about.’

Did this man ever stop talking? ‘Keep those charms tucked away. The house is vacant,’ she bit back as she climbed inside the darkened room. Stepping further inside, she left enough space for Hartwick to climb in after her.

‘How do you know this house is vacant?’ he asked, closing the window.

‘I made some enquiries.’ He didn’t need to know that Katrina had told her about it when they had been discussing the Everills. The vacant house annoyed Lady Everill, and while she was put out that a house on her street was considered undesirable, it was a godsend to Sarah. Now, if she could just make it out of the house without the Earl of Hartwick discovering why she was on Mount Street dressed in men’s attire in the first place...

As she walked into the hallway, moonlight from the rooms on either side streamed onto the dusty floorboards. Hartwick walked quietly behind her until she opened the door leading to the servants’ staircase.

‘How did you know that door led to the staircase?’ he whispered.

‘The arrangement of the homes on this street is similar to mine and there is no need to whisper. We’re alone.’

‘I find it best to be safe, just in case,’ he said, close to her ear. The deep rumble of his voice sent a ripple of awareness through her. ‘There still could be someone about.’

That gave her pause. ‘You’re saying that to frighten me.’

‘If I wanted to frighten you, I’d inform you of the rats that are probably scurrying around this house or spiders or any number of creatures that could fall down on us from holes in the ceiling.’

‘What?’ she squeaked and looked up. Her heart slowed when she spotted the ceiling was intact. She stopped dead so he walked into her.

‘What was that for?’ he asked.

‘For trying to scare me.’

‘Why don’t you let me go down the staircase first?’

‘Why?’

‘In the event there is someone else in the house, I believe I am more equipped to deal with them than you are.’

‘I may surprise you.’

‘Miss Forrester, tonight I’m learning you are full of surprises, but as a gentleman, I must insist.’

The light from the dirty window across the way helped them navigate the spiral staircase. Peering over the wooden banister, Sarah could see all the way to the bottom—to the very dark bottom. Was Hartwick right? Was someone living in this house unbeknownst to the neighbours? Would it be some unwashed mountain of a man who would be angry he was discovered?

‘Very well,’ she whispered, ‘I’ll let you go first.’

Down and down they went. And when they finally reached the ground floor, Sarah held him back. ‘There will be a door to the back garden nearby,’ she whispered. ‘From there it should be easy to leave through the garden gate and into the alley leading to the mews.’

‘I agree. Stand back while I open the door.’ Hartwick crouched and retrieved a knife from his boot. The muted light shimmered off the silver blade.

She stepped back. ‘What do you have that for?’

‘One never knows who one will run into on a night like this,’ he replied with an amused grin.

Her palms started sweating as he slowly turned the doorknob and peered out into the hallway. She took off her gloves and wiggled her fingers in the event she needed to scratch an attacker’s eyes out.

Dear God, let us be alone.

He signalled her to follow him while keeping his attention on the silent, dark hallway. She would never admit to him how grateful she was for his self-assured presence tonight. Anticipating having to walk through these houses without being caught had upset her stomach all day. She had no experience at this.

They reached the door leading to the garden and he placed his hand on the doorknob. ‘Are you ready?’

She nodded and took a deep breath. The thought that someone might be close by watching them made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She nudged his shoulder and got a whiff of leather and rainwater.

When they stepped out into the overgrown garden, the damp air was a welcome relief from the musty smell inside. She was finally finished with her evening of breaking and entering.

‘Do you require assistance returning home?’ he asked, searching her face in what appeared to be true concern.

‘No, thank you. I assumed the house was empty but you’re correct. One can never be too cautious.’

‘Words to remember as you go forward with Lord Baxter,’ he said with a friendly smile.

It took her a moment to recall his earlier assumption about why she had been on the roof. ‘Yes, well, thank you again.’

They were facing each other in the moonlight and she had the strongest urge to close the distance between them. His blue eyes, framed with thick black lashes, had her transfixed. For a long moment, she looked back at him. He really did have lovely eyes—but they gave away his suspicions about her story.

She went to walk past him, but he pulled her back by her hand. He stepped closer and his gaze dropped to her lips. The heat from his body travelled to hers through the cool damp air. The rain began to fall again, but she hadn’t noticed.

‘You should go,’ he said softly.

She nodded, but part of her was having a difficult time walking away from him.

His lips slowly curved into his familiar cocky smile. ‘You never thanked me for saving your life.’

She released his hand and stepped back. ‘Do not look for a kiss from me. The kiss you received from another woman tonight should keep you content.’

He crossed his arms. ‘What makes you think it was one kiss?’

Sometimes he made it so easy to resist that pull she felt towards him. She turned and made her way through the overgrown brush to the small, delicate, wrought-iron gate. ‘The details of your love life do not interest me, my lord,’ she replied over her shoulder, grateful to be leaving the arrogant Earl.

* * *

When she climbed into the carriage waiting a few streets away, she met the eager expression of her dearest friend and closest confidant, Katrina, Duchess of Lyonsdale.

‘Well, did you find it?’ Katrina slid across the green velvet bench in the well-appointed carriage, making room for Sarah to sit down.

Sarah shook her head while removing her hat and cape. The danger she had put herself in by breaking into the Everill town house had all been for naught. ‘I searched her room from top to bottom, and the bracelet was nowhere to be found. She must be wearing it tonight.’

‘Now what will you do?’

‘I’m not sure. If she continues to wear it everywhere she goes, I’ll be forced to take it off her wrist.’

Katrina handed Sarah the gown she had changed out of in the carriage when they left the ball. Concern was etched on her brow. ‘You were gone for a long time. I was beginning to worry.’

Sarah let out a sigh as she turned her back so Katrina could button her gown. ‘I was detained by Lord Hartwick on the roof as I was trying to leave.’

‘Hartwick? Does he know what you were doing tonight?’

‘No, he believes I was coming from an assignation with Lord Baxter.’

Katrina’s hand paused midbutton. ‘Do you think that’s wise?’

‘It was better than telling him the truth. With all his indiscretions I doubt he would say anything.’

‘Whatever was he doing on the roof?’

‘Do you really need to ask?’

Katrina resumed buttoning Sarah’s gown. ‘Has he taken up with Everill’s widowed niece?’

‘No, thankfully she was not in residence tonight, from what I could tell by looking into the bedchamber. He was with Lady Helmford.’

‘Why won’t that man ever pursue an unmarried woman?’

‘Because he might be forced to marry one! From what I’ve observed, he grows bored of women easily.’ Sarah began to pin up her hair.

‘I wish he would settle into marriage. I think it would do him good. He always appears rather restless to me.’

‘I pity the woman who falls for the likes of Lord Hartwick. He thinks too highly of himself and is too much of a rake to ever be faithful.’ She turned to face Katrina. ‘How do I look?’

‘You look like you never left the ballroom. I’m sorry this was all for naught.’

So was Sarah. That bracelet was the key to saving her parents great pain. She would not stop until she had it.

* * *

Playing cards with the Prince Regent always proved to be entertaining, especially when the man was losing. Hart leaned back in his chair in the alcove of the bow window of White’s and watched as his friend and sovereign studied the cards in his hand with the intensity of one who was trying to decipher foreign words on a page.

His puffy face was scrunched up as he directed his gaze away from his cards and over to Hart. ‘Do not look smug.’

‘I hadn’t realised I was.’

‘You always do. You have not won this hand yet.’

‘You’re quickly running out of money to bet. I might win by forfeit.’

‘Unlikely.’ Prinny turned to his cards again.

Hart took a sip of brandy and checked his watch. It was close to four in the morning, but it felt much later. He would bow out after this hand and get some much-needed rest. ‘I don’t think the cards will change however long you stare at them.’

‘Don’t rush me, boy.’

Granted Hart was young enough to be the man’s son, however at thirty-two, he was far from a boy. ‘Very well, if I nod off, someone wake me when it’s my turn.’

Prinny finally selected his card and placed it on the table. Hart won the hand and the remainder of his friend’s money. Now he could escape to his bed and sleep for days.

‘One more round, Hart.’

Dammit! How was it possible he was not tired of losing? ‘You have nothing left to bet.’

Prinny turned towards his three companions behind him, ready to plead his case, when they quickly walked away. ‘Useless, the lot of you are useless,’ he called after them.

‘You see,’ Hart said through a yawn. ‘We cannot continue.’

‘One last round. How about we wager for a favour?’

It was always wise to store as many favours as one could. You never knew when you might need them. Considering the luck Prinny was having tonight, Hart was certain he would win. ‘Very well, but this is the last one.’

They went back and forth till finally it was down to one hand. Prinny placed his card down, a victorious smile on his lips. ‘I win.’

Hart had to rub his eyes twice to make certain he was truly awake. Dammit! Now he owed Prinny a favour. The Prince Regent guided him by the elbow to a quiet corner of the room. ‘I mean to collect, you know.’

‘I had no doubt. Something tells me you had a favour in mind all along.’

‘I might have.’

‘You could have simply asked.’

‘True, but now you’re bound by a debt to do this for me.’

‘And there is no one else you could have asked?’

‘No one that I trust to keep this quiet. You cannot tell a soul. Not even Winter.’ If he was not to tell the man responsible for overseeing Prinny’s secret guard, then Hart was truly interested.

‘And you cannot tell Lyonsdale either. I know how close you are.’

‘Very well, you have my word. I shall not tell a soul.’

Prinny lowered himself into a chair and eyed the seat next to him, indicating Hart should sit. Unfortunately, there was a good chance that once he sat down, Hart would not get up until sunrise.

‘Rumours have surfaced that indicate some of the missing French crown jewels are hidden here in London.’

Hart shifted closer to Prinny. ‘I haven’t heard this.’ He prided himself on knowing important details before they became public knowledge and shook off his annoyance.

‘Louis sent word to me through his ambassador. He asked for my help in locating them for France. He wants them back. There is specific mention of the Sancy, a pale yellow diamond that weighs approximately fifty-five carats. It once was part of the Mirror of Great Britain until James sold the stone to Cardinal Mazarin when he needed funds.’