An Unexpected Countess Read online

  “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 for 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 were 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 needed to be 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 tidbits I uncovered while doing research for this book.

  LAURIE

  BENSON

  An Unexpected

  Countess

  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

  Harlequin Historical Romance

  Secret Lives of the Ton

  An Unsuitable Duchess

  An Uncommon Duke

  An Unexpected Countess

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

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  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 my 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 fulfill 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

  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

  Excerpt from The Convenient Felstone Marriage by Jenni Fletcher

  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 ma
n. 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 t
wenty 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.’