brushed a hand over Daisy’s head to calm her as she snuffled in answer to her raised voice. The little dog instantly settled and rested her ugly little face on Milly’s thigh.

Dear Lord! He had no idea who rode before him. He was an earl now, Lord Ellsworth, the man who, had things been different, she would now be wed to. The man she had loved with every inch of her foolish innocent heart, as he had loved her. Thus far, he had not recognized her, and to ensure that did not happen she needed to avoid looking at him until she could leave, or at least put in her cheek rolls and add padding to her hips. Thankfully she had worn her glasses, and remembered to lisp.

Resisting the urge to look over her shoulder, she prayed that perfidious, foul creature Mr. Pestle had not decided to pursue her. She also hoped his head hurt from the clout she had given it with her book. Odious creature. How dared he force his attentions on her after his wife had offered Milly a room for the night.

“Just your name, Miss Higglesworth, nothing more taxing than that.”

It had been four years since she had ended their betrothal and fled London. Four years where she had gleaned nothing about those she had left behind but snatches of conversation.

This man had once been the sole reason for her happiness. In him she had found everything she had craved: love and affection.

Milly’s father had been a cold, unemotive man, unlike Joseph, who had laughed and loved openly. Raised in a nurturing environment, unlike her, he had been to her innocent eyes a man worthy of her devotion.

“Come now, take a deep breath and tell me.”

Milly had always loved Joseph’s voice. Deep, and smooth like warmed brandy. He’d once whispered sweet words into her ear, and spoken of a future she would now never have. That future had been for a woman far removed from the one she had become.

For four years she had managed to avoid anyone who would recognize her. Four years of running from the danger her father’s perfidy had thrown her into. Only by using her wits had she stayed a step ahead of the man who pursued her. But in doing so, she had walked away from this man and her chance at happiness.

At least Joseph had not recognized her, and indeed, why should he? She was nothing like the society miss she had once been. Innocent and naive were no longer words she could lay claim to. The world she had stepped into had changed that.

“My name is Milly, my lord.” She felt safe giving him an abbreviated version.

“And I am Joseph,” he said softly.

“It would be impertinent of me to call you so.”

“Possibly, and yet as I have given you permission to do so, then I’m sure between us it is acceptable.”

The arm around her pulled her closer as she tried to sit upright. She did not want to feel the hard-muscled planes of his chest against her back, nor the wonderful warmth of the arms wrapped around her. She didn’t need the comfort or protection he could offer her anymore. Couldn’t allow herself to need it. There would never be comfort for her in anyone’s arms again.

“Milly is pretty, and more than compensates for your last name. I’m greatly relieved.”

She tried to ease her back away from his chest. The contact was disturbing. In fact, this entire situation was disturbing. Almost unbelievable, and yet here she sat before the one man she had vowed never to see again.

“You will get a stiff back if you keep fidgeting. Not to mention that every time you lean forward, a cold blast of air cools my chest.”

She would stay with him until the chance to slip away presented itself. The humiliation of this man becoming aware of her identity was more than she could bear. He would also have questions that she could never answer.

“What do you do with your time, Milly?”

He held on to the last syllable of her name, as if in a song.

“I am a governess.”

“And?”

“I do not have time to spare.”

“I’m sure you must have some time.”

“I like to read, my lord.”

“My sister made me read Miss Primrose’s latest horror just last week. Madam Lilith’s Tomb of Terror. I have to say I struggled with the continual lopping off of limbs. However, the overall story was well written.”

His words surprised a snuffle from her. Perhaps it was the tiredness that was making her light-headed. After all, here she was seated upon a horse before one of the wealthiest peers in London, a man whom she had once loved desperately, discussing his reading preferences. She would take this brief moment in time to be with him again. He would never realize who rode before him; why would he? He had long since forgotten Lady Millicent Lawrence, society darling. Woman who had betrayed him.

“I have to own to disliking Mr. Pettigrew. He was not the hero I would have chosen for Miss Smythe, especially when she was about to have her fingers cut off. Indeed, he stood to one side saying only that she would need them to complete a full life.”

“Heartless,” he said, and Milly heard the laughter in his voice. “He should have offered to exchange places, clearly. After all, he himself was established. Especially with the death of his father, his future was assured. What need had he for fingers?”

Milly snorted at the ridiculousness of the conversation. She remembered that about him also. When Joseph had lowered his noble guard, she had enjoyed his humor.

“He did not have the makings of a good hero, my lord, that is my point.”

“What makes a good hero?” Milly could hear the genuine interest in his voice.

Lord, she had thought of just that for days and weeks since her world had been turned on its head.

“Faith,” she said softly. “Faith in the person he loves, even when it seems only he believes her. Against all odds he should stand by her, even if she makes it hard to do so.”

“But what if she lies? What if she makes his loving her impossible? No. I fear you ask too much of us, Milly.”

Milly’s fingers shook as they stroked Daisy’s little head. His words had held curiosity, not derision. He did not speak of what she had done; had he forgotten her now? Was she a distant memory? Had her lies destroyed everything he had felt for her?

“True love will always be tested, my lord, but a hero should be in no doubt that his heroine will always be true to him. There can be no quarter given in this, I believe.”

She wondered why she was persisting in this, when she had tested him to a point where he could no longer stand by her, or indeed fight for what they once had.

Milly allowed herself to lean back into him as exhaustion slowly took hold. Now she was no longer walking, she was suddenly bone-achingly weary. Her expectations had been to catch a ride to the stage in Mr. Pestle’s cart in the morning. However, his unwanted attentions had forced her to flee.

“You will have to work hard to convince me to believe in such a love, Milly. But what of you? Have you forged this belief that a hero must have faith in his love from experience?”

“Certainly not.”

Had she destroyed his faith in love? The thought made her feel ill.

His laugh was a deep rumble.

“Do not laugh at me, my lord. You asked me the question, and I told you the answer. If it is not to your liking, that is your problem not mine.”

Milly again fought the urge to look over her shoulder at him. The beautiful yet aloof Viscount Haddon, now the Earl of Ellsworth. When had his father died? The event would have caused him grave pain, as he had loved his father deeply.

Tall, handsome, with intelligent brown eyes, Joseph had often made women sigh. His face was a thing of beauty, or so Miss Mary Littlewood had once stated. Prominent cheekbones, a long, elegant nose; Milly remembered the first time she had seen him. The breath had caught in her throat, and her stomach had clenched. She had danced with him several times, and remembered feeling awkward. She in her first season, bumbling her way through society, and he appearing cool and calm, understanding his place in the world and accepting the shoes he walked in. And then he had taken an interest in her, and she had scarcely believed it possible. Then they had fallen in love. The future had shone bright and happy for them for a brief moment, and then it had been ripped away.

“I was not laughing at you, Milly, I was laughing at your vehement denial, which told me that you have indeed been thwarted in love.”

“I have never loved,” she lied.

“What, no one?”

“Family, of course, but no one else.” Milly was relieved when he did not question her further about family. Lying had been something she’d had to do often after leaving London, but she loathed it, and tried where possible to avoid it now.

“I think a hero should be able to solve any problem that his beloved presents him with.”

“That’s very broad, don’t you think, my lord? I mean, that is surely setting oneself up to fail, as there can be many problems that he couldn’t fix.”

“But isn’t that the point.” He leaned forward as he spoke and his breath brushed her ear, making her shiver. “A hero should be able to unknot a shoe ribbon and hold together severed flesh for his beloved should it be required. Of course, one would hope for his sake that the latter never occurs.”

Her laugh changed to a yawn.

“Have you been walking long, Milly?”

“A while,” she conceded. In fact, it had been closer to three hours than two, and her feet had begun to ache from the cold.

“May I suggest you wait until morning, or at least some form of transportation next time.”

“I like to walk at night.”

“Many people do, but not in such unpleasant conditions.”

Milly did not reply.

“Your fiancé had arrived to whisk you off to Gretna Green, but alas, you realized after one look into his squinty eyes that your love had waned, so you were forced to flee?”

She had always loved Joseph’s sense of the ridiculous. First, she’d thought him serious-minded, and then after getting to know him better, she’d realized that was the facade he showed society. In fact, there was a great deal more to this man than many people knew.

“It was his nose, my lord,” Milly said. “Overly big, you see, and with a wart on the end. When we kissed, it got in the way, and every time he spoke it rose up and down. It was most disturbing, and I realized that I could not live my life with it... of course, I mean him.” Milly sighed dramatically, and then was forced to stifle another yawn.

“Yes, I can see how off-putting that may have been. However, it seems terribly superficial of you, the path of true love and all that,” he added, waving a hand about in front of her. “Of course, I don’t believe in such a thing anymore.”

“True love?”

“Yes.”

She heard the word, delivered in a cold, flat tone. She had done this to him, and the thought was a distressing one. Joseph had once believed in love, because his parents had loved each other deeply, and he had told her that was what he wanted to share with her.

But life had played a hand in changing Milly’s views on love also. She laughed now at how foolish and naïve she had once been. How she believed love could be formed after a series of parties and balls on the arm of a handsome man. Or driving in the park at his side? The reality was far different. It was struggling to survive for many... as it had been for her. She would have been spoilt and cosseted as Joseph’s wife, but what kind of relationship would that have been for either of them? The same as many who frequented society, Milly knew. But that would no longer suit her. She was changed, in too many ways to count. There would be no happy ever after with a handsome, rich peer for her anymore.

“It is no longer something I wish for either, my lord.”

“However, I am sure that unlike me, you will find it one day, Milly,” he said quietly.

“I do not want it,” she said fiercely. “Love makes fools of sane people.”

“That had some strength behind it.”

“It was a quote, my lord.”

“Of course, how silly of me to think otherwise. Now tell me where this position in Spindle is and with which family, as I know most of them?”

Dear Lord, did he visit Spindle often? The prospect of seeing him again was an unsettling one. He did not recognize her now, but would he if he saw her a few more times. Why would he see you, Milly? He was an earl and she a nobody.

“I’m to be governess to the eldest daughter of a family in Spindle, my lord. I am tasked with helping to prepare her to enter society.”

“Which family? I know most of them.”

“It matters not.”

“Come, we are merely conversing, is it so hard to share this information with me? I’m sure we shall not see each other again. Therefore, whatever we speak of this night will not be passed on, and indeed forgotten in no time.”

“Lord and Lady Wimplestow.”

Behind her, the earl coughed.

“Are you quite well?”

“Yes, quite well. Which daughter?”

“The eldest, as I have already explained.”

He coughed again.

“My lord, are you sure you are all right?”

“I am, but let me tell you, Milly, you will have something of a task ahead of you.”

“You know the family?”

“I do.”

“But they live some distance from your home?”

“Yes, why do you ask?”

“I wonder at the association,” Milly lied.

“I hunt with Lord Wimplestow occasionally, and have visited his house.”

“I am quite certain I will settle in there perfectly.”

“I hope you do.” His words sounded doubtful.

The Wimplestows were the only family who would take her, given she had no reference other than the one she had written herself. The agency she had approached had suggested she contact them. She had, and had been accepted for the position as companion to Miss Wimplestow.

“That is the fourth yawn in as many minutes, Miss Higglesworth.”

“The day has been a long one, my lord.”

She would close her eyes briefly, only a few seconds to regain her strength. Now she was out of immediate danger, it appeared fatigue had caught up to her. However, she could not fall asleep in this man’s arms. She needed to keep her wits about her at all times. Imminent danger from Mr. Pestle may no longer be nipping at her heels, but that did not mean she could let her guard down, as it would be fatal if Lord Ellsworth recognized her. His anger would be fierce, and she could not blame him for that. Or perhaps he would no longer care? Was he married? Milly did not like to think of another woman having his children, and yet knew this would happen, if it had not already.