Nicholas: Lord of Secrets

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The English peerage had come to a sorry pass when the heir to an earldom had to duck up the footmen’s stairway to hide from the lovely young women seeking to become his countess.

Nicholas Haddonfield, Viscount Reston, took those steps two at a time.

He emerged on the first floor of the Winterthur mansion, the corridor lit by wall sconces and blessedly devoid of footmen, debutantes, mamas, or other aggravations.

Nick hurried to the first door and found it locked, suggesting the evening’s hosts, Lord and Lady Winterthur, were not entirely foolish. Well, no matter, the corridor was long, and there had to be an unlocked sitting room or parlor where a man could hide himself away for a few minutes of peace, quiet, and solitude.

He approached an intersection and froze as he heard a twittering female voice.

“He must have gone this way, Eulie.” The tone was indignant. “The gentlemen’s retiring room is on this floor, and he’s too big to go missing for long.”

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