Heiress on the Run (Harlequin Romance)

  Once a Lady…always a Lady?

  Lord Dominic Beresford needs his luck to change. But with a public betrayal and his business on the rocks, it’s not looking good.

  Three years ago Lady Faith Fowlmere left her painful past and her identity behind, but life on the run has left her jobless, penniless and alone.

  It seems they’re the answer to each other’s prayers. But Faith can’t keep her secret forever, and as she gets closer to Dominic she realizes that this time she can’t run, because it would mean leaving her heart behind….

  “Let me tell you a little bit more about what I need,” he said, and Faith nodded, her best attentive face on.

  “My name is Lord Dominic Beresford, and I run a number of businesses from my family’s estates.” Faith’s stomach twisted at the name. Of course he looked familiar. She’d probably seen him on the society pages a dozen times when she lived in London, usually next to photos of her mother looking tipsy behind her fake smile, or her father charming another man’s wife. Or even of Faith herself, leaving the current London hotspot on the arm of someone very unsuitable. He, on the other hand, was always immaculately dressed and frowning.

  “I have six American businessmen arriving in London tomorrow morning,” Dominic went on, oblivious to the way her stomach was rolling. “I need you to meet and greet them, plan entertainment for the hours they’re not going to be in meetings and accompany them on tours, to the theater, whatever you come up with.” He gave her a sharp look. “Can you do it?”

  Spend ten days in the company of a man who could at any moment realize exactly who she was and expose her, all while avoiding anyone she knew in London, and working at the same time?

  “Of course I can.”

  Dear Reader,

  The idea for this book came to me a couple of years ago, around the time a lot of travel companies were folding, and the news was filled with tourists stuck in airports, trying to find a way home. All of a sudden, Faith strolled into my imagination, refusing to be beaten by a little thing like being unexpectedly jobless, broke and stranded in a foreign country.

  I set most of Faith and Dominic’s story in London, partly so I could relive my years as a conference and events planner working in some of the capital’s best hotels and venues. While I didn’t get to experience all of the things Faith does in the book, I certainly had plenty of adventures of my own! And the pelicans in St. James’s Park are my favourite things about the city, too.

  But what I love most about this story is that it shows how far love can take you. It can make you do all sorts of things you never even imagined you could—let alone would want to! And above all, love can make you the person you’re meant to be.

  I hope you enjoy Dominic and Faith’s story—and the pelicans!

  Love,

  Sophie x

  HEIRESS ON THE RUN

  Sophie Pembroke

  Sophie Pembroke has been dreaming, reading and writing romance for years—ever since she first read The Far Pavilions under her desk in chemistry class. She later stayed up all night devouring Harlequin books as part of her English degree at Lancaster University, and promptly gave up any pretext of enjoying tragic novels. After all, what’s the point of a book without a happy ending?

  She loves to set her novels in the places where she has lived—from the wilds of the Welsh mountains to the genteel humor of an English country village, or the heat and tension of a London summer. She also has a tendency to make her characters kiss in castles.

  Currently Sophie makes her home in Hertfordshire, with her scientist husband (who still shakes his head at the reading-in-chemistry thing) and their four-year-old Alice in Wonderland–obsessed daughter. She writes her love stories in the study she begrudgingly shares with her husband, while drinking too much tea and eating homemade cakes. Or, when things are looking very bad for her heroes and heroines, white wine and dark chocolate.

  Sophie keeps a blog at www.sophiepembroke.com, which should be about romance and writing but is usually about cake and castles instead.

  Also by Sophie Pembroke

  STRANDED WITH THE TYCOON

  This and other titles by Sophie Pembroke are available in ebook format at www.Harlequin.com.

  For Mum & Dad, for always believing I could.

  Contents

  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

  EXCERPT

  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘I DON’T UNDERSTAND,’ Faith said, fingers gripping the fabric of her uniform too tightly. The body-hugging grey pencil skirt didn’t have a lot of give, but she needed something solid and real in her hands. Something that definitely existed. Unlike the plane that was supposed to be taking her and her latest tour group back to London. ‘How can there not be a plane?’

  The airport official had the air of a man who’d had this conversation far more times than he’d like today, and in more languages than he was really comfortable with. It was in no way reassuring. ‘There is no plane, signorina, because there is no company any longer. It’s been declared bankrupt. All customers of the Roman Holiday Tour Company are being asked to contact their insurance companies and—’

  ‘But I’m not a customer!’ Faith interrupted, her patience exhausted. She’d been in the airport for three hours now, and she really needed a cup of coffee. Or an explanation for what the hell had happened to trash her immediate future overnight. ‘I’m an employee. I’m the tour guide.’

  The official’s gaze turned pitying. Faith guessed that meant she wasn’t likely to get paid this month. Or ever. Great. Just when her bank account could really have done with the help. ‘Then I suggest you call your employer. If you are able to find him.’

  Oh, that really didn’t sound good.

  Turning away, Faith gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile in the direction of the huddle of tourists waiting for her to report back on their journey home. Holding up her index finger in the universal ‘just one minute’ gesture, she fished in her capacious bag for her phone. Time to find out what the hell was going on.

  ‘Marco?’ she asked, the moment the phone stopped ringing. ‘What the hell—’

  There was a click on the other end of the line. Thank you for calling the Roman Holiday Tour Company! There is no one available to take your call right now...

  Her own voice on the voicemail message.

  Faith hung up.

  Around her, Leonardo da Vinci Airport buzzed with life. The sounds of crackly announcements and suitcase wheels on smooth flooring. The chatter of excited holiday-goers. The smell of fast food and strong coffee. The twelve British tourists standing around their suitcases, looking at her hopefully.

  Faith took a deep breath, and approached. ‘Okay, guys, here’s the situation. I’ll be honest, it’s not great, but I’m still here and I will help you sort everything out, okay?’ Maybe she wasn’t getting paid any more, and maybe her boss had disappeared off the face of the earth, but she’d spent the last two weeks sh
owing these people the sights and sounds of Italy. They trusted her. She owed it to them to at least make sure they got home safely. Maybe, that way, their memories of this holiday wouldn’t just be of a total disaster.

  No one actually relaxed at her words, but at least they looked slightly less terrified, which Faith figured was the best she could hope for, given the circumstances. Now for the hard bit.

  ‘So, let’s start at the top. Does everybody have travel insurance?’

  It took a full two and a half hours, four cups of coffee, twenty phone calls, and plenty of sweet-talking, but eventually Faith had everyone either rebooked on other flights or safely ensconced in a hotel room until their insurance could organise their return home.

  Everyone, that was, except for her.

  Dropping down to sit on one of the airport benches, ignoring the guy asleep with his head on his backpack next to her, Faith pulled out her phone and tried Marco’s number again.

  Thank you for calling the Roman Holiday Tour Company! There is no one available to take your call right now...

  She jabbed the end call button, dropped her phone into her lap, and closed her eyes. Okay, so, time to review the situation. Where was she?

  She was in Rome! Centre of history, romance and really great pizza. She knew her way around, she had, ooh, twenty euros in her purse, she...was unemployed, homeless and stuck.

  Faith sighed, and opened her eyes again, looking around the busy terminal. Everybody there seemed to know exactly where they were going, and how they were going to get there. She didn’t even know where she was going to sleep tonight.

  She could call Antonio, she supposed. Except for the part where she really, really couldn’t. Ex-boyfriends weren’t generally inclined to be hugely helpful when her life fell apart, she’d learnt the hard way, and the one she’d left in a fit of anger only two weeks earlier would probably throw her out on her ear. Or worse.

  And since everyone else she knew in Rome was either part of Antonio’s ridiculously extended family or related to her missing employer, or both, that pretty much exhausted the local options.

  Which left her with...home. She should be back in London by now, ready to pick up her next group and embark on a tour of the Italian lakes. She guessed that was off, too. She’d barely seen more of the homeland than the cheapest airport hotel at Heathrow since she left Britain a year and a half ago, and even if she hadn’t cut all ties with the friends she’d had before that, how could she just call up and say, Hey, I’m kinda stranded. Want to buy me a plane ticket?

  No, the only people anyone could do that to were family. And she really didn’t want to have to call them, either.

  She had no doubt that dear old Mum and Dad, the Lord and Lady Fowlmere, would welcome her back into the bosom of the family in no time. After all, the publicity of the wild child heiress returned to the Fowlmere estate would make great copy, and her father always loved anything that made him look good in the press.

  Faith had left home three years ago, ready to be herself for once, not an aristocratic relic to be trotted out for charity galas and other occasions, or a standing joke in the society pages. Going home now would undo all that hard work. Not to mention bring up the reasons she’d had to leave in the first place.

  But it didn’t look like she had an awful lot of choice.

  Rubbing a hand across her forehead, Faith straightened her white blouse, then ripped off the hideous orange and red necktie that Marco insisted on his guides wearing and shoved it in her bag. It meant that the neckline of her blouse was a little more revealing than was entirely appropriate, but she didn’t care. If she was going to have to call her family, she needed a drink first. And perhaps flashing a little cleavage as she walked into the airport bar would mean that she didn’t have to waste any of her precious twenty euros buying it herself.

  * * *

  ‘Explain to me again how this happened.’ Lord Dominic Beresford looked at the icy-cold bottle of Italian beer sitting on the bar in front of him with longing. He’d spent all day in meetings, worked in the cab all the way to the airport, and was just ready to switch off and relax before his late-night flight back to London, when Kevin, the Temp from Hell, called.

  Dominic’s beer would have to wait until he’d fixed whatever Kevin had screwed up now.

  On the other end of the phone line, he could hear Kevin frantically turning pages in one of the many files Dominic was sure he had stacked on his desk. Stupid Shelley and her stupid maternity leave anyway. Wasn’t keeping him sane a higher calling than a baby?

  Dominic swept a finger down the beads of water on the neck of his beer bottle. Even he had to admit, probably not.

  ‘Um, best I can tell, sir, your secretary booked in the tour guide with your usual company some months ago. And then...’ Kevin trailed off nervously.

  And then, Dominic filled in mentally, the owner of that usual company, Lady Katarina Forrester, also known at the time as his fiancée, had been caught on camera in a rather compromising position, leading to a media storm that had threatened his family’s reputation.

  So he’d called off the engagement. And in retaliation she’d cancelled their professional relationship, too.

  Which left him with six American businessmen and -women flying into London tonight, expecting entertainment and tourism to go with their meetings. And probably, now he thought about it, hotel rooms, too. Kat had always taken care of the accommodation for his business guests.

  The fact that this was almost entirely his own fault for getting involved with a business contact in the first place didn’t make Dominic want that beer any less. He should have known better.

  ‘I think I can remember what happened next,’ he told Kevin drily. ‘But I’m more interested in what happens now. Here’s what I need you to do. First—’

  ‘Um...’ Kevin said, the way he always did when he was about to ruin Dominic’s day. Surely Shelley didn’t need a full year off with the baby. What if she didn’t come back at all?

  ‘What?’ Dominic bit out.

  ‘The thing is, it’s nearly eight o’clock, sir. I’m supposed to finish work at five-thirty.’ Kevin sounded more whiny than apologetic about the fact. How had Shelley ever thought he’d be a fitting replacement for her? Unless her mothering instinct had kicked in early. Kevin certainly needed taking care of.

  ‘Add the hours onto your time sheet,’ Dominic said, attempting reason. ‘I’ll make sure you’re compensated for your time.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. Only it’s not just that. I’ve got a...commitment tonight I can’t break.’

  ‘A date?’ Dominic tried to imagine the lanky, spotty Kevin with an actual woman, and failed.

  ‘No!’ The squeak in Kevin’s voice suggested he had similar problems with the idea. ‘Just a group I belong to. It’s an important meeting.’

  The thing with temps, Dominic had found, was you couldn’t just threaten them with the sack. They always had something new to move onto, and no incentive to stay.

  And, it was worth remembering, Kevin had screwed up almost every simple job Dominic had asked him to do in the last week. Sometimes, if you wanted a job done properly...

  ‘Fine. Go. I’ll fix it.’

  The scrambling on the other end of the line suggested Kevin was already halfway out of the door. ‘Yes, sir. Thank you.’ He hung up.

  Dominic gave the beer another wistful look. And then he called Shelley.

  The wailing child in the background wasn’t a good sign. ‘Dominic, I am on maternity leave. I do not work for you right now.’

  ‘I know that. But—’

  ‘Are you sure? Because this is the fifth time you’ve called me this week.’

  ‘In my defence, you weren’t supposed to go on maternity leave for another two weeks.’

  ‘I am very sorry that my son arrived early a
nd disrupted your busy schedule.’ She didn’t sound very sorry, Dominic thought. She sounded sarcastic. ‘Now, what do you want? And quickly.’

  ‘The Americans. Kat cancelled all our bookings and—’

  ‘Told you not to sleep with her.’

  ‘And I need to find them somewhere to stay and someone to look after them while they’re in London.’

  ‘Yes,’ Shelley said. ‘You do.’

  ‘Can you help?’ He hated begging. Hated admitting he needed the assistance. But Shelley had been with him for five years. She knew how he worked, what he needed. She was part of the company.

  Or she had been, until she left him.

  She obviously still had more loyalty than Kevin, though. Sighing, she said, ‘I’ll check my contacts and text you some hotel names and tour companies you can try. But you’ll have to wait until I’ve got Micah back off to sleep.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘And this is the last time, Dominic. You’re going to have to learn to work with Kevin.’

  ‘I could just hire someone else,’ Dominic mused. The thought of a whole year with Kevin was untenable.

  ‘Fine. Whatever. I don’t care. Just stop calling me!’ Shelley hung up.

  Placing his phone on the bar, Dominic looked at the bottle of beer. How long did it take to get a child off to sleep, anyway? He might as well have a drink while he was waiting. But, as he reached for the bottle, a woman boosted herself up onto the stool next to him and smiled.

  Raising the bottle to his lips, Dominic took in the low-cut blouse, too-tight skirt and wild dark hair framing large hazel eyes. The smile on her wide lips was knowing, and he wondered if she’d recognised him. What she wanted from him. A drink. A night. A story to sell. She wouldn’t be the first, whatever it was.

  And whatever it was, she wouldn’t get it. He’d made a mistake, letting Kat close enough to damage his reputation. It wasn’t one he intended to make again—certainly not for one night with a pretty girl with an agenda.

 
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