Regency Secrets: My Lady's Trust

Regency Secrets: My Lady's Trust
Julia Justiss

A terrifying secretSeeking safety among strangers, Laura Martin finds the Earl of Beaulieu her greatest threat! His gentleness to her breaks down the barriers she’s raised around her heart and her desire for him betrays her into shocking danger.Gambling on the rake’s heartTeagan Fitzwilliams was nothing more than a wastrel with the devil’s own luck at cards — so why was he so drawn to the virtuous Lady Valeria? One stolen, sensual moment with Valeria sets Teagan on a course to change his life and claim her as his own — forever! Two classic and delightful Regency tales!

About the Author

As a child, JULIA JUSTISS found her Nancy Drew books inspired her to create stories of her own. She has been writing ever since. After university she served stints as a business journalist for an insurance company and editor of the American Embassy newsletter in Tunisia. She now teaches French at a school in Texas, where she lives with her husband, three children and two dogs.

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REGENCY RUMOURS

Juliet Landon

REGENCY REDEMPTION

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REGENCY DEBUTANTES

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REGENCY IMPROPRIETIES

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REGENCY MISTRESSES

Mary Brendan

REGENCY REBELS

Deb Marlowe

REGENCY SCANDALS

Sophia James

REGENCY MARRIAGES

Elizabeth Rolls

REGENCY INNOCENTS

Annie Burrows

REGENCY SINS

Bronwyn Scott

REGENCY

Secrets

My Lady’s Trust

My Lady’s Pleasure

Julia Justice

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

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.

My Lady’s Trust

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, and her step staggered.

She bent over, gripping for support the handle of the room where a baby’s gurgle no longer sounded. Nor ever would again—not flesh of her flesh.

I promise you that, Jennie, she vowed. Making good on that vow could not ease the burden of guilt she carried, but it was the last thing she would do in this house. The only thing, now, she could do.

Marshaling her strength, she straightened and made her way down the stairs, halting once more to catch her breath before attempting to work the heavy lock of the kitchen door. She was stronger now. For the past month she’d practiced walking, at first quietly in her room, more openly this past week since most of the household had departed with its master for London. She could do this.