Miss Lacey

By Claudy Conn

Spirited Lacey Burton was an heiress. Trouble there. Her stepmother wanted her married and not just to anyone, but to the man that was her stepmother’s lover!
Lacey refused and rushed off in the middle of the night as she headed for Nottingham in disguise. She was determined to keep her identity a secret.
Fate waved its unpredictable hand.
Along the road she met Sir Roland Keyes, a self-confessed fortune hunter. He believed Lacey to be poverty stricken, but even so...he found her irresistible. It didn’t matter how much he cared for her, he knew he had no choice. He had to make a marriage of convenience.
Enter a famous balloonist, jewelry thieves and some lively intrigue with Lacey weaving her way in and out of the game as it grew out of control!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Claudy Conn
• Release date: Aug 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005677077

Claudy Conn

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, Claudy Conn is a multi published author who got her start with her bestselling historical/regency romances.She tells us that she fell in love with the fantasy/paranormal genre and created a world of paranormal.She hopes you will read and enjoy and join her on her facebook where she loves to interact with her readers.page.http://www.facebook.com/pages/Claudy-Conn-Paranormal-Romance-Author/135826686471445

Book preview

By Claudy Conn

CONTENTS

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Epilogue

About Claudy

Copyright

Miss Lacey

By Claudy Conn

http://www.claudyconn.com

Copyright © 2020 by Claudy Conn at Smashwords

Edited by: Alicia Carmical

Cover Artist: Dawn Sullivan

All rights reserved

Published in the United States of America

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Names, characters, and events depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

Dedicated to my guy who is my hero hands down. He always supports me and he always comes through!

~ One ~

THE DRAWING ROOM OF THE Burton townhouse was established in the very latest fashion. Its furnishings were well appointed, Regency in design, and awfully expensive. However, at the moment, its two occupants were oblivious to its comforts.

Lacey Burton stamped her dainty foot against the dark, plushy Oriental carpet and said in shocked accents, "You cannot mean it, Daphne. Even you…wouldn’t dare make such an announcement against my will!"

Lady Daphne Burton, Lacey’s stepmama, put a hand up to pat her elegantly styled, golden curls. The subject, Lacey could see, was beginning to bore her. She returned Lacey’s glare with one of utter disinterest and said, My dear girl, you needn’t be so melodramatic about this. I rather thought you were attached to Lord Collymore.

Lacey had learned how to deal with her stepmama. She was no longer intimidated. She no longer looked for friendship from the woman. She stood her ground, feeling as though Daphne had slapped her. Her first reaction was to administer the same sort of treatment!

"If by that unfeeling statement, you mean to imply that I was interested, perhaps even taken with Lord Collymore, you are quite right. I was, and in my naivety…I did find his lordship attractive, even, perhaps, desirable. However, I know better now." Lacey gave her stepmama a hard stare, daring her to delve further into the matter.

What, my dear child, is that supposed to mean? Daphne snapped. And don’t use those dark eyes of yours to look at me so coldly. I am your stepmama, after all.

Lacey recalled the hurt and disillusionment she had felt, and had endured, when she had discovered the truth—a truth her father had discovered in the same moment, before his death a year ago. She patted her head of short copper curls, and although she felt her eyes glisten with unshed tears, she managed to control herself and said calmly, "What it means is this; last year, when I had just turned nineteen and was no longer a schoolgirl, though you clothed me as one, yes, I was still an innocent. What it means is now at twenty, I no longer am so very innocent. Don’t pretend not to know why. Oh, yes, I had a schoolgirl crush on Collymore for a time, but that, ma’am, Lacey used the word deliberately, was before I knew him to be your lover. Oh, yes…I saw you together, and just so you know that I know, my father also saw you in bed with Collymore. We learned the truth together, though neither of us spoke about it, nor told you at the time!"

Ah, Lacey thought, watching Daphne’s face. A flush hit! Finally.

That is quite enough! Daphne snapped, and stood up to face Lacey. Her light grey eyes were filled with ice, and her mouth was set in a hard line. Your easy tongue is to be despised, stepdaughter.

As are your easy morals, retorted Lacey furiously. Her better self whispered that she had gone too far, but all the hurt, all the anger that had accumulated over the last two years, churned and foamed inside of her and wanted out. She had tried so hard to like the woman after her father married her, but Daphne had made any friendship impossible, often making Lacey feel like she was in the way.

I have slapped others for less. Lady Burton stood straight, and as she was a tall woman, she towered over Lacey’s five-foot four height. Who do you think you are? You are naught but a girl…whose father is no longer here to stand in for her.

And you are naught but a dowager…hating your new role, Lacey threw right back. I have learned a great deal at your hands. You think yourself a beauty…and perhaps you still are. I am not trying to take your place in society, but if you don’t wish to try and behave decently to me, you can move into the dowager house my father set aside for you.

Ah, yes, throw it all at me that your father left everything to you and only a small competence for me… Daphne started.

Lacey gasped, "A small competence? What he set aside for you will give you every comfort you will ever need."

You don’t know what I need, Daphne snapped. "You do have a problem, though, if you send me off, after all, as much as I am loathe to admit it, you have metamorphosed into a diamond of the first water. Indeed, you are quite striking. That and being wealthy beyond imagination will make you a target for those who will want to take control of your money. You will be courted by the worst rogues imaginable." She shrugged. "As to that, I don’t give a fig if you are hurt by such a man, but I do care about appearances. You can’t go on here…alone, and as much as I dislike being your…chaperone, I suppose I must."

Lacey said nothing to this as she mulled it over. There was some truth to what her stepmama said. She couldn’t very well live in her London townhouse without a suitable chaperone. A paid duenna would not do.

Aha, I have struck a chord, have I? Daphne took a tour around the room, picked at the edge of a large pillow on the yellow damask sofa, and said, I shall overlook your rudeness to me and tell you that while Collymore was once interested in me, he no longer is. My competence compared to your inheritance is quite inadequate to serve his expensive needs. Yesterday, Collymore made an offer for you, and I accepted.

Lacey caught the snort she almost released, and her hands went to her hips. Of course, he did. Of course, you did. A marriage of convenience would suit him very well. I happen to know he is in financial difficulties, and if you think I shall marry him or anyone else because you want it, you are very much more than mistaken.

However, does a snip of a girl become so well informed? How do you know what Colly has or doesn’t have? Daphne said sarcastically and pulled a face. You are about to be presented to the world, and you would be wise not to display this…unattractive side you seem to have acquired.

You mean…intelligence? Lacey released a short laugh. "Never mind. I repeat so that you may understand. I shall not marry him. Lacey folded her arms across her midriff. There is no way you can force me to it. Papa did not make you my guardian. In fact, he left me in charge of my own estates, and I mean to continue to use his man of business, and go on very well without your presence here."

Ah, and yet…you need a chaperone. I am in many ways, just that. You know very little of me if you think I can’t manage you. I intend to set it about that I found you in a compromising situation with Collymore abovestairs. You will be ruined if you don’t marry him. What chance have you if you don’t marry him after the ton hears of your debauchery?

Lacey stared with disbelief, and her words, when they came, were scarcely audible. "You are wicked of heart, Daphne. Do your worst because what comes at me…will surely turn on you!" So saying, she fled the room to run up the stairs, her white muslin skirts flying about her feet.

When she reached her bedroom, she bolted the door behind her and stared at the lovely chamber in horror. She had not expected this. She paced back n’ forth as she looked around at what she had always loved about her room. The design of cream with pale green fronds on her coverlet did little to mollify her present agitation.

Completely spent from her confrontation with her stepmama, she sank onto the soft thick comforter and contemplated her ceiling. She had to think. She couldn’t allow this to go on. She wouldn’t have her reputation forever sullied, and she couldn’t marry Collymore. She was all too aware that his only interest in her had been her inheritance.

How had she ever imagined herself in love with the cad? No matter. That was over. She must do something. Vanish? She only wished she could vanish. If she weren’t here, Daphne could not proceed with her present strategy. She had no choice. She had to run away, but she would also need to have one of her faithful servants take a note to her father’s solicitor telling him she went to visit friends. In that way, she would cut Daphne off at the start.

A small toy poodle that had been begging and whining to be lifted to her high bed finally got her attention, and she looked at the little white fluff and said, Oh, Peewee. What I am about to do is outrageous. I have done many hoydenish things, but this…this will top them all.

Peewee gave her a short bark as she cuddled him on her lap. She stared at him as she formulated the rest of her plan. "Peewee…you are quite right! It will work, because it must."

* * * * *

A neat black carriage emblazoned with the owner’s coat of arms was swiftly tooled around a tricky bend in the road. There was scarcely any moonlight breaking through the heavy sky. Clouds scudded, their texture promising spring showers. The coach’s occupant had reason to leave London in haste, quite excellent reasons indeed, and therefore urged his driver onward in spite of the threatening weather.

Sir Roland Keyes had that very day sustained some damaging losses. The elfin woman he had courted all season for her beauty and her fortune had rejected him. Damn, but what a rejection! It had been enough to remember for all time. Ruefully, he recalled the way in which Myriah had turned him away. He had nearly had her for his own, but then Kit Wimborne entered the scene, and all was over.

To be sure, he had behaved the cad in the end and deserved no better than he received, but he had been desperate. Ah, what a blow, what humiliation! He had left Myriah in the arms of the dratted Kit Wimborne and returned to London to find his creditors at his door.

Fiend seize their souls! He needed time, just a bit more time to come about. He had managed to stave off some of them with the winnings of a horse that had come in for him that very day, but the others? Well, the only thing left was for him to absent himself.

The future? It looked black, but he had looked into himself and decided he would never behave so badly ever again. Dire straits had made him a scoundrel. No more. He owed it to his tenants to bring things about, and damn, but he would!

Myriah had touched his heart. His time with her, wanting her, though he had not been in love with her, had changed him. She was a spirited soul, and he had imagined they could have been friends if she had accepted to marry him.

Ah, well, that was not to be.

Thus, with his heart very much intact, he made his way up north. Nottingham was his objective. There, he would be near his own estates, just ten miles away, but he would hide out with his good friend, the viscount. He was a few years older, but that had not interfered with their youthful friendship. Indeed, Bussingham would suit him now, and until he could repair his financial situation.

Also…he had heard there was a notable heiress in Nottingham. Perhaps…ah bah, there it was again! He did not really wish to go that road, but what choice did he have?

* * * * *

A lone rider, not overly distinguished in appearance and, in fact, bearing the overall impression of a youth, schooled a high spirited black gelding over the dark North Road.

In a straw basket padded with a small knit blanket, secured to the side of her saddle, lay a trusting toy poodle. It barked as its owner suddenly gave a right lead and scooted off into a controlled canter.

Lacey’s instincts had been tickling her for the past fifteen minutes. She was certain she was not alone on the dark road. Someone was watching…following her!

Why? What would anyone want with an indigent lad? And that was just how she was disguised. In boys’ clothing! She had donned a weathered peaked hat, one she had purchased from her young groom. She had tucked her short-cropped head of copper curls inside her hat, and put the total picture together with her groom’s torn buckskin short coat and loose britches. The riding boots were her own.

The disguise was a precaution for her long trip north. No one, she guessed, would want anything to do with a poor boy. At the back of her saddle, resting on her horse’s rump, was her neatly packed portmanteau. In her hessian boot was a fat wad of cash, and at her waist, a small ladies’ pistol. She fingered it now.

It would be foolhardy to take on more speed in the dark. The roads were unfamiliar. But the more time that went by, the more certain she became that someone was following her.

She had not long to concern herself about this, for suddenly, out of the thicket came two dark riders.

Highwaymen! She knew at once, but what the deuce did they want with a lad of no consequence, which she had been at pains to create?

She knew from the way they came at her, from the masks, from the way they smiled—a smile that displayed their yellow teeth, and the obvious fact…they were desperate for a coin.

If only she could keep up the pretense and hide the fact that she was a female.

Well now, stripling, the large of the two men bellowed at her. You’ll save yerself a stash of trouble by handing over the ready…nicely now, slowly…no tricks.

Lacey wanted to knock her fist into her forehead with the exasperation she presently suffered. How stupid of her not to foresee this. She should have prepared some loose cash in her saddlebag…in her pockets, to hand over in a situation like this. What was she to do? She couldn’t give them the cash she had in her boot. She would be left with nothing, and she needed some ready to get to Nottingham.

She had to stall, though what that would do for her, she could not fathom. Perhaps the stage would come by and interrupt them?

I haven’t any money, she said in a low, frightened voice. I’m no more than a poor boy.

The smaller man gave over a harsh laugh. Haven’t you? Well, then, green ‘un, off the horse. We’ll just have a look see.

Please, sirs, couldn’t ye jest leave a lad be and go after fatter game? I was turned off without a sou…and am jest trying to make it to a friend.

Sounds havey-cavey to me, said the smaller of the highwaymen. Whot be ye doing on such a fine horse?

Took the prime blood! They owed me. Nothing else for it. Running away now, ye see, Lacey improvised, hoping her accent copied her groom’s well enough.

On the run, are ye? The larger man chortled. He studied her for a moment, then ran an experienced eye over the horse. Somethin’ about ye and this horse…yer story…it don’t add up, ye see. He stepped closer and exclaimed, "Why…ye ain’t a lad! Lord, love ye. Let’s ‘ave a better look. I’ll be hanged if ye be not a pretty