The Highborn Housekeeper
A disgraced lady Turned lowly housekeeper Earl’s daughter Nancy turned her back on the aristocracy when she fled a forced marriage, working as a cook and housekeeper. But in nursing an injured man back to health, Nancy uncovers a deep longing for the dangerously attractive Gabriel, and a surprise: he’s working to protect government secrets! She wants to help him. But to do so, Nancy will have to return to the life she once cast aside…
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A disgraced lady
Turned lowly housekeeper
Earl’s daughter Nancy turned her back on the aristocracy when she fled a forced marriage, working instead as a cook and housekeeper. But in nursing an injured man back to health, Nancy uncovers a deep longing for the dangerously attractive Gabriel, and a surprise: he’s working to protect government secrets! She wants to help him. But to do so, Nancy will have to return to the life she once cast aside...
SARAH MALLORY was born in the West Country and now lives on the beautiful Yorkshire Moors. She has been writing for more than three decades—mainly historical romances set in the Georgian and Regency period. She has won several awards for her writing, including the Romantic Novelists’ Association RoNA Rose Award for The Dangerous Lord Darrington and for Beneath the Major’s Scars.
The Duke’s Secret Heir
Pursued for the Viscount’s Vengeance
The Infamous Arrandales miniseries
The Chaperon’s Seduction
Temptation of a Governess
Return of the Runaway
The Outcast’s Redemption
Saved From Disgrace miniseries
The Ton’s Most Notorious Rake
Beauty and the Brooding Lord
The Highborn Housekeeper
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.
ISBN: 978-1-474-08915-9
THE HIGHBORN HOUSEKEEPER
© 2019 Sarah Mallory
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
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To my four-legged companion, Willow,
who keeps me company when I write,
and keeps me fit with regular walks!
Contents
Note to Readers
The snow started at dusk. Only a few flakes at first, but soon it was falling steadily and coating the icy ground.
Nancy was warm enough, dressed in her riding habit of plum-coloured velvet with its matching curly-brimmed hat and wrapped in a voluminous cloak. Her companion, too, looked snug in a heavy wool redingote and shawl and they both had their feet resting on warm bricks and snuggled into sheepskin, but she felt some sympathy for the servants sitting up on the box.
However, when they stopped to change horses at the Crown in Tuxford and her driver suggested that she might put up there for the night, she was adamant that they should continue. William, who had come to the chaise door to issue his advice, pushed back his hat and stared at her, perplexed. His breath formed small icy clouds as he spoke with all the confidence of an old and trusted retainer.
‘I don’t like it, madam, and that’s a fact. The snow don’t show no signs of easing. We should stop here.’
‘It is but very fine snow,’ she responded. ‘There is nothing much to accumulate and no wind to cause any drifting, so we shall go on.’ She noted his frown and conceded one point. ‘You may order yourselves something hot to drink, if you wish, and have them bring coffee out for Mrs Yelland and me. And perhaps you will ask them to provide fresh hot bricks for our feet.’
