Page 1 of The Detective and the Baroness

Prologue

Late October 1898

London, England

“Detective Simpson!”

Mitchell groaned, straining to open his eyes. He heard a woman’s voice, one somewhat familiar. His bewildered brain tried to place it because the sound of the breathy voice sent frissons of pleasure through his aching body.

“Sergeant, please wake up!” The lady gripped his arm and gave it a vigorous shake.

Mitchell’s mind was a haze, struggling to understand what had happened to him. The revelation that the late, loathsome Duke of Chellenham was his birth father had left him reeling these past weeks. As a result, he’d found himself caught up in the lives of certain aristocrats, even ending up agreeing to act as a backup in an intricate plan to retrieve a kidnap victim from the Notting Dale slum area.

The thief and kidnapper, Jedidiah Danaher, was unpredictable. Mitchell knew that made him particularly dangerous. So Mitchell stayed close by with a small contingent of constables as his friends went forward with their plan. Mitchell closed his eyes tight, reliving the event. It unfolded in his mind as if in slow motion. When he heard gunshots, Mitchell and his constables entered the fray, and during a scuffle, Mitchell saw Danaher point a revolver at his friend, Viscount Tensbridge. He pushed him out of the way only to be shot instead.

After that, Mitchell did not remember much else. Someone transported him to the house of his half-brother, the new Duke of Chellenham, where they called in a doctor. But Mitchell distinctly remembered this lady’s voice through his numerous fever dreams, as he slipped in and out of consciousness. He recollected her soothing touch as she’d laid a cool cloth on his forehead when he’d been burning up and covered him with blankets when he felt cold. The lady had told him that all would be well, that he would recover.

Not that he had genuinely believed it.

“Mitchell!”

The sound brought him more fully awake. He groaned and placed his blurry gaze on the owner of the frantic voice.

His vision cleared, and when Mitchell saw who had awakened him, a powerful yearning tore through him—just as it had the first time he’d seen her a few weeks ago.

Lady Corrine Addington, Baroness.

The Honorable Corrine Edgeworth, the only daughter of Viscount Rothley. The recently married bride to Travis Addington, the new baron. Travis Addington was a distant cousin to the recently passed old baron, Gilbert Addington.

He might be sick and injured, yet Mitchell still could pluck out relevant facts stockpiled in his organized police detective brain. At least, that boded well for his recovery. Why was Lady Addington here? Then he remembered something else. Of course. Before she’d married, she had been a nurse. His friends had told him so. It made the baroness all the more fascinating. “I am glad you are awake, Sergeant. Do you remember me?”

Remember? How could I forget?

“I was at the Galway Investigative Agency when you came looking for Viscount Tensbridge and Miss Ellingford. We met again when I assisted in nursing Miss Ellingford’s injuries.”

Mitchell remembered it all. He recalled locking gazes with her, and the potent blast of awareness and arousal that had gripped him tight—just like now.

“I heard that your injuries resulted from a police raid, so I offered my medical services.”

“How long have you been here, my lady?” Mitchell croaked.

“Since your friends brought you here five days ago.”

Five days? “What about the baron, your husband?”

“What about him?”

“Isn’t he wondering where you are?”

The baroness shrugged. “I highly doubt it. We are separated, at least temporarily.”

Already? Weren’t they married only a few months ago? Why did the prospect of her estrangement from her husband fill him with hope? It was inappropriate, particularly since Mitchell had only met Lady Addington.

“I must tell the others you are awake.”

“Others?” he rasped.

“Your family and friends. I will fetch them.”