Lying to a Lord

Copyright © 2023 by Mindy Burbidge Strunk Cover Design: Blue Water Books All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Publisher’s note: This is a work of fiction. Names, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes, but any resemblance to actual people-living or dead, to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locals are coincidental. Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Epilogue Author Notes Acknowledgments About the Author Also by Mindy Burbidge Strunk Chapter One London, Late June 1815 Lady Mariah Thornbeck hadn’t always despised dogs. While she had never cared overly much for them, she’d not hated them until her sister-in-law and former best friend, Sarah, brought home Lady Guinevere, a pug that was just as ill-natured as its owner. Horses, on the other hand, Mariah could appreciate. They were helpful—pulling carriages and working in the fields. And they looked quite noble doing it. But a dog? What purpose did it serve? They were nothing more than a nuisance that chewed up her slippers and scared woodland creatures. The little pug nipped at Mariah’s ankles. She stomped her foot and growled, sending the animal scurrying behind the butler. Its retreat did nothing to temper Mariah’s scowl as she slowly yanked each button on her spencer through its hole, taking far longer than was necessary. Maxwell, the family’s butler, stood in front of her with her bonnet and gloves in hand. “Are you nearly done, Lady Mariah?” Mariah sighed, looking up as she secured the last button. There was little else to delay her. “Yes. I am finished.” A yip drew her attention back to the pug cowering behind the butler. She glared at the animal. “Where is Sarah? Why can she not take this beast for a walk? It is her dog.” “Lady Stoke is busy overseeing preparations for the ball tonight. You’re the only one with nothing else to do.” Maxwell bent down and picked up the dog, obviously as vexed by it as Mariah. While she didn’t believe Maxwell had intended the slight, it cut that everyone in the house thought her so completely purposeless as to only allow her to walk the dog. “Why can’t a servant take her?” “The servants are all busy.” Reginald, her older brother and the Earl of Stoke-on-Trent, stood on the landing with his arms folded across his chest. “Lady Guinevere needs her exercise, else she will be intolerable for the whole of the evening.” Exercise won’t prevent that, Mariah thought angrily. “But Lady G dislikes me so. And I cannot say the feeling is not mutual.” She glared at the dog again. Reginald smiled. “Then perhaps you should take this opportunity to become better acquainted. I’m certain once you know each other better, you will become fast friends.” His voice softened, and he came to stand in front of her. “We all have responsibilities, Mar. And this is yours for today. Please, do not make it more difficult than it need be.” “Very well.” She huffed, grabbing the dog from Maxwell. “Where is the leash I asked for?” “Leash? Why should you need a leash?” Sarah emerged from the ballroom, concern knit across her brow. “I intend to attach it around Lady G’s collar—to keep her from running away.” Sarah frowned, looking at the dog rather than Mariah. “You shouldn’t need one. She will walk alongside you.” She looked up at Mariah’s face and Mariah looked away. Sarah looked as though the need to tether the dog only added to the list of Mariah’s deficiencies. Mariah let out a snort. “She does nothing of the sort. When last I took her for a walk, she let out after a squirrel. I ruined a perfectly lovely gown trying to catch this mongrel. She will be on a leash, else I shall not take her.” She folded her arms across her chest and pushed her hip out in challenge. Perhaps if she let the dog have her head, she would chase something and be lost forever. Surely Mariah’s slippers would thank her for giving the little beast its freedom. Reginald let out a sigh. “Very well. If it means Lady Guinevere receives her exercise, then I suppose the leash won’t harm her. Just do not let her pull at it too tightly.” Mariah rolled her eyes and put the dog on the floor. Maxwell stooped down next to her and handed her the leash, taking over the position of holding the animal still. Mariah fastened the long strip of leather around the dog’s collar. Once it was secure, she grasped it tightly. “Come along, Lady G. Let us see this task completed. I should like to have plenty of time to ready for the ball.” Her stomach gave a small lurch as she thought about who might be in attendance. She’d heard Lord Heatherton had sent his acceptance, and she intended to look her best for him. She had endured nearly the whole of the Season without him as he escorted his mother on a tour of the continent. He’d only returned a month ago and had kept to the cardrooms for most of the events. He danced with her the few times Reginald had enlisted the help of his friends in saving her from dancing with undesirable men. But that had been the extent of it. Lord Heatherton never asked her to dance of his own accord. Indeed, he