by Eliza Knight
Lady in Red
Eliza Knight
Contents
More Books by Eliza Knight
About the Book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Epilogue
About the Author
Copyright 2014, 2021 © Eliza Knight
LADY IN RED © 2014, 2021 Eliza Knight. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part or the whole of this book may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted or utilized (other than for reading by the intended reader) in ANY form (now known or hereafter invented) without prior written permission by the author. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal, and punishable by law.
* * *
LADY IN RED is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and or are used fictitiously and solely the product of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental.
Cover Design by Kim Killion @ The Killion Group, Inc.
Edited by Erica Monroe at Quillfire
More Books by Eliza Knight
Prince Charlie’s Rebels
The Highlander Who Stole Christmas
Prince Charlie’s Angels
The Rebel Wears Plaid
Truly Madly Plaid
You’ve Got Plaid
The Sutherland Legacy
The Highlander’s Gift
The Highlander’s Quest
The Highlander’s Stolen Bride
The Highlander’s Hellion
The Highlander’s Secret Vow
The Highlander’s Enchantment
Pirates of Britannia: Devils of the Deep
Savage of the Sea
The Sea Devil
A Pirate’s Bounty
The Stolen Bride Series
The Highlander’s Temptation
The Highlander’s Reward
The Highlander’s Conquest
The Highlander’s Lady
The Highlander’s Warrior Bride
The Highlander’s Triumph
The Highlander’s Sin
Wild Highland Mistletoe (a Stolen Bride winter novella)
The Highlander’s Charm (a Stolen Bride novella)
A Kilted Christmas Wish – a contemporary Holiday spin-off
The Highlander’s Surrender
The Conquered Bride Series
Conquered by the Highlander
Seduced by the Laird
Taken by the Highlander (a Conquered bride novella)
Claimed by the Warrior
Stolen by the Laird
Protected by the Laird (a Conquered bride novella)
Guarded by the Warrior
The MacDougall Legacy Series
Laird of Shadows
Laird of Twilight
Laird of Darkness
The Thistles and Roses Series
Promise of a Knight
Eternally Bound
Breath from the Sea
The Highland Bound Series (Erotic time-travel)
Behind the Plaid
Bared to the Laird
Dark Side of the Laird
Highlander’s Touch
Highlander Undone
Highlander Unraveled
Wicked Women
Her Desperate Gamble
Seducing the Sheriff
Kiss Me, Cowboy
Under the name E. Knight
Tales From the Tudor Court
My Lady Viper
Prisoner of the Queen
Single Title Historical Fiction
A Day of Fire: a novel of Pompeii
A Year of Ravens: a novel of Boudica’s Rebellion
Ribbons of Scarlet: a novel of the French Revolution
About the Book
When Terrence Howard, the Earl of Shaftesbury’s wife returns out of the blue after having gone missing for two years, he’s filled with questions—and an undeniable love for her that never waned.
* * *
Elizabeth, a lady by chance and a pauper by birth, is hiding a secret. Her disappearance was more than just a mere escape, but a chance at revenge for a life upended by the man she tricks into marrying her.
* * *
Whatever game Elizabeth had been about however has the last lark, as her heart has played the ultimate hand…and she’s most definitely doomed to lose.
1
London, England
1816
* * *
There was nothing unusual about the gray of the morning sky, nor the hustle and bustle of those walking the streets of London. Even so, Terrence Howard, Earl of Shaftesbury, stared hard out the window, his eyes riveted on the vibrant red of a certain hat.
Not just any hat, a hat fit for a queen or at the very least, a duchess.
A red hat that reminded him very much of his long-lost lady…
Bedecked with several plumes of black feathers and ribbons, ’twas the same hat he’d seen fly by the windows of his study the yesterday. Beneath the hat was the face of an angel—certainly, a visage that helped disguise her mischievous ways—eyes as blue as the nonexistent London sky; creamy, flawless skin, and ruby-red lips that made a man lose his sense.
Terrence was not accustomed to losing his sense. He’d only ever lost it once—gazing into the eyes of this angel.
Or rather, the opposite of an angel, he supposed.
He’d sworn the first day the hat sailed past that it couldn’t be her. Even as images of her raced before his eyes, and memories assailed him that were better left in the deep dark of his soul where he’d buried them. That had been Monday.
Tuesday, he’d risen well before dawn and stood before his study window, watching the streetlights until the sun rose and the lantern boys came to extinguish them. Still, he didn’t move. He’d examined each and every person that happened to walk in front of his townhouse, and just when he’d been about to turn away, a flash of crimson caught his gaze. His eyes widened as he stepped closer to the window, his forehead practically pressing against the cool glass. The morning before, he’d doubted himself, but not today.
Today, he was certain it was her.
And she would have known that this was his house. That he would be up and working in his study at this hour. Which meant she was passing his window each day at this precise moment on purpose.
How bloody dare she? What was she about?
The lady in question had haunted his dreams from the moment he’d first met her. In fact, he’d become practically a recluse since he’d last seen her, save for those moments he was due in the House of Lords.
The hat in question was a gift. A gift he’d given her as a token of his affection. Before she’d made him out for a fool.
The woman had a penchant for good hats. Every time he’d seen her, she was wearing a different one. Various colors, fabrics, ribbons, designs. Some with pearls, some with feathers. He never knew what she might be wearing on that beautiful head.
So yesterday, he’d run out the front door, sailed down the brick front steps and through the iron gate, much to the chagrin of his butler, and to the surprise of everyone upon the street. But by the time he’d reached the busy sidewalk, she was gone—no flash of red in the midst of black and gray hats.
Now here he was, prepared.
Oh, yes, he’d come up with a plan and enlisted the help of his valet, James. The man had balked at the idea, for it was extremely improper, but one dithering look from his master, and he’d clamped his lips closed and nodded.
Terrence grinned as he observed James step from behind the row of tall shrubs positioned before his iron fence
in front of his London townhouse. James gently pressed his fingers to the lady’s elbow. She stared at the valet, startled.
Lord, she was beautiful. Achingly so.
Dark, curling lashes framed her blue eyes. As innocent as she tried to look, Terrence knew just how calculating she could be. A rosy flush covered her creamy cheeks, and James didn’t let go when her delicate nose turned up at him and demanded that he release her. Her pouty pink lips let loose several blistering words in Terrence’s valet’s direction.
As instructed, James tugged her through the gate and up the marble stairs.
Terrence’s heart kicked up its pace, and a prickle of chill swept up his spine. If it weren’t seven in the morning, he might like a glass of whisky. To hell with it. He poured himself two-fingers into a tumbler and downed it before a tap sounded at his library door.
This was it. Behind the wide oak double doors was the woman he’d spent an agonizing amount of time thinking about. Cursing her. Loving her.
Blast it all, she was his undoing.
“Enter,” he said, surprised at the sturdiness in his voice. Setting down his glass, he went to stand casually beside the fireplace, his elbow resting on the mantle. Why yes, a casual stance such as this would not let her realize what she’d done to him.
He hadn’t seen Elizabeth Stuart in two years. Scottish hellion that she was. She’d clawed her way into his heart and then ripped it out.
A bead of sweat trickled from his temple, and he cleared his throat.
The door swung open, revealing James and Elizabeth.
Good God, his wife was still just as enchanting. Her hair was swept up, no doubt a pile of riotous chocolate curls beneath the fated hat. Eyes wide and bluer than he remembered: the color of sapphires and how they sparkled with enticement. The moment James had grasped her arm, she’d known what would happen. Had to have been expecting him, but still, there was a look of surprise on her face that left Terrence momentarily tongue-tied.
“My lord,” James said, keeping to his formalities. “The Lady Shaftesbury is here to see you.”
Terrence watched his wife, Elizabeth, with her plush lips pressed into a thin white line, dip into a curtsy, lowering her hot gaze from his face to his feet. The gown she wore was plain gray and worn. Not at all the gown of a countess, but rather a governess—or worse yet, a housekeeper. He frowned at the coarseness of the fabric of her skirts and the out-of-date bodice, the threadbare hem and fabric about the sleeves. What had happened over the last two years when she’d disappeared from his life? She should be wearing clothes that made women in the height of fashion swoon with jealousy.
“That will be all, James,” Terrence said, his voice gruff.
The valet crept from the room, closing the door silently behind him. Elizabeth stood not six feet away. She didn’t look at him, her eyes still lowered to the floor.
Two years.
He should be full of rage, ranting at her, but instead, he could barely find his voice. When she’d disappeared, he’d feared her dead. Had sent men out to look for her. He had spent countless days and weeks searching. Even so far as to travel north to Scotland, in hopes she’d simply run home to her family. But they had not heard from her either.
“You’ve had quite a lengthy trip to the milliner’s shop.” Terrence thought he sounded rather clever for that one.
The morning she’d disappeared, Elizabeth had told him she was going to see the hat maker about commissioning an equally charming hat to the red one he’d gifted her, this time in blue. She’d never returned.
Elizabeth was no longer staring at the floor, but she was also not looking at him. Her hands wrung before her as her gaze darted about.
“Husband,” she murmured, so low that he couldn’t surmise her emotion.
Husband. God, how he’d missed the sound of her Scottish lilt, the way her lips formed words. The desire that pulsed through him whenever she spoke. Husband. The title was not one he’d forgotten and hearing it on her lips only left him bereft.
2
“Is that all the greeting I deserve?” Frustration lanced through Terrence.
Husband. Not even a bloody apology for being gone to the hat shop for two years, which he had once considered to be the very least of what she could say.
Elizabeth’s gaze jerked up, anger, raw and potent, in her startling blues. “What did ye expect?”
More than she was willing to give, he supposed. “An explanation. A decent one.”
Fear flashed in her eyes, which shifted from side to side, along with her stance. She wrung her hands so hard that he was certain her knuckles beneath would match the color of her white gloves. What was she hiding?
Elizabeth shook her head. The rise and fall of her chest increased, her breasts pushed tight to the gown she wore, showing off the ample bosom he could draw from memory. Terrence shifted his gaze up, staring at her throat. He swore he saw the veins in her neck pulsing in time with her rapid heartbeat.
“Come now, do you not owe me that much?” he asked, trying for a softer tone.
“That, I…” She swallowed hard. “I canna give ye that.”
Terrence kept his face empty of emotion, though inside his stomach twisted as if he’d been gutted. He’d been in love with her ever since he’d nearly run her over in Hyde Park with his horse.
Gray had covered that morning, like most mornings in London. A haze filled the air. He’d gone out just after dawn to ride in the park, annoyed about something that he had to take up in the House of Lords. He’d been riding hard, sweat causing his shirt to stick to him beneath his coat. Then all of a sudden, there she was. Jumping out of the way from his horse and falling onto her bottom upon the grass.
Terrence had leapt from his mount, coming to her aid. Her hat had flown off somewhere, leaving her chocolate-brown curls to cascade around her shoulders, and she’d opened her mouth and given him a tongue blistering with her Scottish lilt, the likes of which he’d never heard before.
It didn’t matter to him that she wasn’t of noble blood or that her family in Scotland was not well off. Her smile and charm created a storm in him, a torrent of emotion he’d never experienced to date.
Feelings he’d thought she’d returned all through their courtship. But the morning after they wed, she’d disappeared.
“Where have you been?” he demanded. Blast, but it was increasingly more difficult to hold in his temper. He resisted the urge to grab her shoulders and shake her until the truth spilled forth. He wasn’t a violent man. Had never laid hands on a woman before, and the idea that he was considering it now caused his frustration only to grow. Terrence forced himself to slow down his heartbeat. To breathe evenly. Bullying her would not loosen her tongue.
Elizabeth’s hands fisted at her sides, and a little bit of the indignant woman he recognized came out in the thrust of her chin. “I was told ye were in the country this week.”
Terrence smiled bitterly. “A rumor I started myself.”
Her eyes widened a fraction of an inch. “Why?”
“’Tis I who gets to ask the questions—not you, wife.” Besides, he wasn’t going to tell her he’d done so to entrap her. A man couldn’t give away all his secrets.
Elizabeth shifted her feet, the anger still visible in her eyes, but also mixed now with a touch of sadness. He couldn’t decipher if she was cross that he’d found her, or that he wouldn’t let her go when she obviously was desperate to get away from him. Perhaps it was a bit of both.
He pushed away from the mantle and stepped nearer to her so that only a few feet separated them. “Why did you keep the hat?”
Slim fingers reached up to touch the brim, the hem of her sleeve falling back enough to expose a thin glint of skin where her glove ended just beyond her wrist. Skin he’d once put his lips on. Terrence sucked in a breath, for he was almost certain he could make out the soft orange blossom of her scent.
Her pouty lips turned down in a frown. “I...”
Terrence closed the distan
ce, the tips of his boots touching the toe of her rather feminine-looking leather shoes. “I’ll ask you once more, Lady Shaftesbury. What’s kept you?” He hated the hint of vulnerability in his voice. That he wasn’t certain his face no longer hid how he felt.
Elizabeth’s throat bobbed, and for a moment, he swore she’d run. Perhaps even thrust herself through the glass of the window. But she squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and stared him straight in the eye. However, the words that tumbled out left him reeling with shock and disbelief.
“My husband and daughter.”
The believability of the words escaping her own lips was just as inconceivable as they’d been two years earlier when Elizabeth had said, “I do,” in the chapel, holding Terrence’s hands.
Within minutes of being returned to Terrence’s magnanimous presence, she’d given him the two darkest secrets she’d struggled with confessing to him before. All the years of lies, the heartache, and deceit. Leaving him had been the only option.
Marrying him had been insanity. She’d had a mission to complete, and she’d failed. Agreeing to be his wife for life and beyond the grave when Linden was...Elizabeth shook her head. She wasn’t going to think about either of her husbands—or her daughter, Sarah. Sweet, sweet, Sarah. Her cherubic face surrounded by the same chocolate curls as Elizabeth’s.
