The Viscount's Runaway Wife

Chapter Six (#ue12a0b64-6319-56c3-bf5c-2144dc62f893)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Prologue (#u5ec3ef9e-a5f0-502a-970d-e80f8cac0b31)

Sussex—1814

Dear Husband,

I am sorry. Please do not look for me.

Your wife,

Lady Sedgewick

Chapter One (#u5ec3ef9e-a5f0-502a-970d-e80f8cac0b31)

London—1815

Oliver paused before entering the butcher’s shop situated a few streets north of Russell Square. In the past year he’d been to many places a titled gentleman wouldn’t normally venture in search of his missing wife, but never in his life had he had cause to go into a butcher’s shop before.

Regarding the hanging cuts of meat with curiosity, he pushed open the door, looking up as the bell tinkled, and walked in. A large man wielding an oversized meat cleaver flashed him a smile, indicating he would be with him once he’d finished slicing the half a pig that was hanging over the rear of the counter.

‘How can I help you, sir?’ the butcher asked as he wiped his bloodied hands on a white rag. ‘Got some lovely fresh pork if you’re interested.’

Despite the man’s words, Oliver could see the hint of mistrust in his eyes—the butcher knew already Oliver wasn’t there to buy anything.

‘I’m looking for my wife,’ he said without any preamble. He’d been in similar situations hundreds of times over the last year and honed his speech to be concise and to the point.

The butcher frowned.

‘I spoke to a delivery boy last week who thought he might have seen her in this area, most specifically in your shop.’ Taking a miniature portrait from his pocket, he held it out to show the butcher. ‘Her name is Lady Sedgewick, although she might be using a different name.’

Oliver watched the man closely and wondered if he saw the tiniest spark of recognition in his eyes.

‘Name doesn’t sound familiar,’ the butcher said, buying himself some time.

‘And the woman in the picture?’

‘Why are you looking for her?’

Oliver felt his pulse quicken. Just over a year he’d been searching for Lucy, a year of disappointment and dead ends. Every time he thought he might be drawing closer it came to nothing, but perhaps he was finally getting somewhere.

‘She’s my wife.’

‘Lots of reasons a wife might not want to be found by her husband.’

‘I mean her no harm,’ Oliver said and it was the truth. He’d never wanted to harm Lucy despite everything she’d put him through.

The butcher regarded him for some moments and then nodded as if satisfied.

‘Looks a bit like a young woman who comes in once a week from the St Giles’s Women’s and Children’s Foundation. I sell them our offcuts of meat at a reduced price.’

‘Where is this Foundation?’ Oliver asked, already knowing the answer, but hoping he was wrong.

‘St Giles, of course,’ the butcher said with a grin. ‘Though, you’ll need a guide if you want to get in and out of there in one piece.’