Reunited With Her Viscount Protector
She can trust him to keep her safe… But can she trust herself? Widow Dawn Fenton has heard rumours that her old sweetheart Jack Valance is back in town – and he’s no longer penniless, but a wealthy viscount! She’ll avoid him at all costs, especially as he’s honour-bound to wed another. But as Jack steps in to help her protect a vulnerable child in her family, Dawn must face up to the truth: she wants him to stay!
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She can trust him to keep her safe...
But can she trust herself?
Widow Dawn Fenton has heard rumors that her old sweetheart Jack Valance is back in town—and he’s no longer penniless, but a wealthy viscount! She’ll avoid him at all costs, especially as he’s honor bound to wed another. But as Jack steps in to help her protect a vulnerable child in her family, Dawn must face up to the truth: she wants him to stay!
MARY BRENDAN was born in North London, but now lives in rural Suffolk. She has always had a fascination with bygone days, and enjoys the research involved in writing historical fiction. When not at her computer she can be found trying to bring order to her large overgrown garden, or browsing local fairs and junk shops for that elusive bargain.
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ISBN: 978-1-474-08933-3
REUNITED WITH HER VISCOUNT PROTECTOR
© 2019 Mary Brendan
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
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Contents
Note to Readers
‘You little scamp! Come back here!’
Mrs Fenton picked up her lavender skirts and chased the shrieking child on to the pathway. She soon caught up with him and hoisted him off his feet in a cuddle. ‘You are far too nimble for me. You win again, Master Bernard.’ She placed a kiss on his soft cheek.
‘Oh, stop it, Bernie. You will tire poor Auntie Dawn out and she won’t come again to play with you,’ the Countess of Houndsmere said, issuing a warning to her giggling son.
‘Of course I will come. I love our games, don’t I, Bernie?’ Dawn put the wriggling child back on to the flagstones.
After his game of chase, Master Bernard still had plenty of energy; his godmother, however, was holding the stitch in her side and fanning herself with a hand. The boy immediately dashed off to throw a ball across the emerald lawn for two wolfhound puppies to squabble over. Dawn strolled over to sit with her friend in the shade and have a well-earned rest.
A table and chairs had been set up under the dipping broad boughs of a magnificent plane tree in the grounds of a mansion in Grosvenor Square. Upon the table was the finest rose-patterned porcelain and a tray upon which reposed silverware for making tea. Two maids hovered close by. They attended to refreshments and to tilt parasols this way and that to ensure the ladies were shielded from any rogue sunbeams infiltrating the whispering greenery.
