Falling for His Pretend Countess

At that moment, all the feelings and desires that Suzanne had considered wanton erupted into an urge that made her lift her face upward to meet Henry’s. The first touch of his lips against hers stole her breath, and the second touch emptied her lungs with a soft sigh. Each touch was as gentle as a breeze, a mere brushing. It was as if he was exploring her lips with his, and it made her want more. Much more. She stretched onto the balls of her feet and moved her lips to catch his. He made a low, almost hungry, sound as their lips met full-on, and the pressure between them increased. That happened over and over again, their lips firmly meeting, parting and meeting again. The unimaginable pleasure that rained down upon her sent her heart racing and the same warm, pulsating need she’d encountered yesterday burst to life deep inside her. It was a daring, driving need. One that thrilled her as much as it frightened her. Author Note Friends are true treasures. I remember being in Girl Scouts and singing, “Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver, one is gold.” That simple rhyme is so very true, and I enjoyed writing each book in the Southern Belles in London miniseries. Annabelle, Clara and Suzanne had been best friends since childhood, and having them reunited in London while finding their happily-ever-afters with noble men was very fitting. This story is about Suzanne, who thought she knew exactly what she wanted until she meets Henry. He makes her question all she’d ever known, other than friendship. I hope you enjoy their strangers-to-friends-to-lovers story. Falling for His Pretend Countess Lauri Robinson www.millsandboon.co.uk A lover of fairy tales and history, LAURI ROBINSON can’t imagine a better profession than penning happily-ever-after stories about men and women in days gone past. Her favorite settings include World War II, the roaring twenties and the Old West. Lauri and her husband raised three sons in their rural Minnesota home and are now getting their just rewards by spoiling their grandchildren. Visit her at laurirobinson.blogspot.com, Facebook.com/lauri.robinson1 or Twitter.com/laurir. To my friend Jennifer. Your wisdom and encouragement will always be with me. Contents Cover About the Author Booklist Title Page Copyright Note to Readers Introduction Author Note Dedication 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 Epilogue Extract About the Publisher Chapter One Suzanne Bishop had always been told that she was tall for a woman. Well, not always, and not by anyone except Aunt Adelle, who in all fairness had been several inches below five feet her entire life. Therefore, to Aunt Adelle, God rest her soul, a woman who stood five foot four inches without stretching on to her toes was tall. Truth be, until recently, Suzanne had never paid much attention to her height, or the height of anyone else. There had been no reason to. However, here in England, London to be precise, she noticed because the men were short. Leastwise those who appeared as if it was their mission to seek her out were short. Men had never sought her out back home. To be fair, she’d never encouraged them to seek her out. She wasn’t encouraging that here, either, it just happened. There were a few reasons for that. Clara, her dearest friend, had married Roger Hardgroves, the Marquess of Clairmount, and her other most dear friend, Annabelle, the reason she was in England and not six feet under the earth back in Virginia—thank the Almighty—had married Andrew Barkly, the Duke of Mansfield. Another reason was that Elaine, Viscountess Voss, Lord Clairmount’s mother, had become Suzanne’s sponsor, which simply meant that Suzanne was accepted by the ton to attend balls and parties during the Season. Accepted, perhaps, but that didn’t mean she felt comfortable. The rules of society here were quite complex and that left her questioning if she should have stayed in London. Both Clara and Annabelle had asked her to live with them on their country estates, but she couldn’t depend upon others her entire life. She’d been raised to be self-sufficient and had done so back home by becoming a teacher. Therein lay the reason she was here, in London, attending events and functions. It was all quite an adventure and she loved adventures, however, she was also on a mission to become as self-sufficient here as back home. That meant one thing. She needed to be introduced to her neighbour, Henry Vogal, the Earl of Beaufort. All these names and titles seemed a bit pretentious in Suzanne’s mind, but that was coming from a twenty-two-year-old woman who had no idea what her true surname would have been if she’d been born legitimately. When a person didn’t know who fathered them, there was no way for them to know what their name should have been. She’d been given Bishop as her last name when she arrived at Aunt Adelle’s house in Virginia well over a decade ago. Truth was, Aunt Adelle wasn’t her aunt either. She was her great-aunt, or that was the story she’d been told. Adelle’s sister, Jane, had supposedly been Suzanne’s grandmother, on her mother’s side of course. Her mother’s name had been Lilac and she’d worked in a house of ill repute in Missouri—The Flower Garden. That’s what the house had been called and Suzanne wasn’t overly sure if her mother’s real name had been Lilac, or if her mother had been given that name once she’d become a flower in the garden. Either way, that’s where Suzanne had been born and where Lilac had died. In a house called The Flower Garden. Not knowing what to do with her, Rose, who ran the house, had asked the fine folks of Tinpan, yes, Tinpan, Missouri, to donate enough money