An Unusual Courtship

An Unusual Courtship The Brazen Burrells, Book 2 ByLynne Connolly © Copyright 2022 by Lynne Connolly Text by Lynne Connolly Dragonblade Publishing, Inc. is an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc. P.O. Box 23 Moreno Valley, CA 92556 [email protected] Produced in the United States of America First Edition December 2022 Kindle Edition Reproduction of any kind except where it pertains to short quotes in relation to advertising or promotion is strictly prohibited. All Rights Reserved. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. License Notes: This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook, once purchased, may not be re-sold. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. 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CEO, Dragonblade Publishing Additional Dragonblade books by Author Lynne Connolly The Lyon’s Den Series Lyon Eyes The Brazen Burrells Series The Only Honest Man in London (Book 1) An Unusual Courtship (Book 2) On Christmas Day in the Morning (Novella) The Lair of the Burrells (Novella) The Daring Dersinghams Series A Touch of Silver A Hint of Starlight A Trace of Roses A Bunch of Mistletoe A Whisper of Treason Past, Present, Future (Novella) Table of Contents Title Page Copyright Page Publisher’s Note Additional Dragonblade books by Author Lynne Connolly 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 Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Epilogue Author’s Note About the Author Chapter One May 1817 Even though she lived in luxury these days, Juliet Burrell often sighed in relief when she left Whiston House. Sometimes she yearned for the simpler life her family had led before their wildly successful Season last year. One of her sisters had become the Duchess of Whiston, and the other the Countess of Knowsley. As for her, she was still Miss Juliet Burrell—and glad to be so, she told herself several times a day. Especially when Bianca and her Duke were having one of their noisy arguments. She hurried down the gleaming white marble steps and headed for the corner of the square, where cabs often lingered in search of a fare. Her footman McCarrick strode effortlessly behind her. Sometimes Juliet yearned to be tall, like her sisters, but then, she wouldn’t be able to walk through a crowd unnoticed. People queued up to see Bianca and Viola when they appeared. Juliet was accepted as part of the trio, the Three Graces, as some wag had called them, but Juliet knew she was not as startlingly lovely as her sisters. Not that she minded—much. People jostled her, but she was used to that now. She pulled her crimson pelisse closer around her, an instinctive gesture against the press of humanity and the slightly chilly weather. Better than last year, when the sun rarely showed its face. But not much. Reaching the corner, she glanced around. Sure enough, a cab stood by the side of the road. The brown horse looked exhausted, poor thing, its head drooping and its shaggy mane too long for comfort. Its owner sat hunched over on the high bench, holding his whip upright like a ship’s mast. He’d pulled a battered beaver hat around his ears. He’d do. As she approached the cab, McCarrick overtook her and opened the door, his gnarled face grimly displaying disapproval as his mistress climbed into the vehicle. McCarrick had come down with them from Edinburgh, but he’d been with them longer than that. Ever since their Dublin days, when they’d been adventurers, living on their wits and little else. “Ludgate Hill,” she told her footman. “I want to go to Bloomberg’s bookshop.” Where she’d meet her friend Maria Richards—Lady Maria Richards—and they’d have a blessed hour together browsing in the stacks. She settled back against the lumpy, worn leather squabs, prepared to amuse herself with the city. The journey could take quite a bit of time, being three or four miles from her current residence in Mayfair. The carriage lurched as McCarrick jumped up behind. Her footman refused to travel with her. “Bain’t right, miss,” he said when she’d asked him. “We’ll be there soon enough.” So she had the cab to herself, in all its leather-cracked, fish-stinking glory. She’d known worse. Watching London pass by the window gave her time to think and observe, two of her favorite activities. London always held something to fascinate the onlooker, and Juliet had always been an observer rather than a participant. She’d enjoyed going along with the plans her mother