No Earls Allowed (The Survivors #2)(99)

She stared at the child, then at Neil. “Is it really him? Really Davy?”

“Yes,” he said. “It’s really him, and he’s really yours.” He would tell her all the stipulations and legal agreements later. Lainesborough had not relinquished custody of the boy completely. But in the end, money had mattered more to him than a child he would take no interest in for another eighteen years. Neil hadn’t had to compromise as much as he’d feared.

“How?” she whispered. “I tried everything.”

Neil shrugged. “I’m a war hero. You know that.”

She laughed, her voice shaky. “And all this time you have been trying to convince me you were anything but a hero. Thank you.” She cradled the little boy, tears running down her cheeks.

Neil caught one. “You are supposed to be happy.”

“I am. I’m weeping for joy. He’s so beautiful.”

Neil looked down at the child, his eyes closed so peacefully, and he thought of the dream he’d had of his brother. In the dream, Christopher’s eyes had been closed, his face serene. He was at rest, at peace. Finally, Neil could be at peace too.

“Papa, isn’t he beautiful?” Juliana motioned to her father standing in the doorway. “Isn’t he the most beautiful boy?”

The earl nodded. “Our family is complete.”

Neil couldn’t have agreed more.

Order Shana Galen’s next book

in The Survivors series

An Affair with a Spare

On sale July 2018





Read on for an excerpt from book 3 in Shana Galen’s Survivors series




Coming soon from Sourcebooks Casablanca

Collette Fortier took a shaky breath and pasted a bright smile on her face.

Do not mention hedgehogs. Do not mention hedgehogs!

Collette was nervous, and when she was nervous her English faltered, and she often fell back upon the books she’d studied when learning the language. Unfortunately, they had been books on natural history. The volume on hedgehogs, with its charcoal sketches, had been one of her favorites.

This ball had been a nightmare from the moment she’d entered. Not only was she squished in the ballroom like a folding fan, there was no escape from the harsh sound of English voices. Due to the steady rain outside, the hosts had closed the doors and windows. Collette felt more trapped than usual.

“He’s coming this way!” Lady Ravensgate hissed, elbowing her in the side. Collette had to restrain herself from elbowing her chaperone right back. Since Lieutenant Colonel Draven was indeed headed their way, Collette held herself in check. She needed an introduction. After almost a month of insinuating herself into the inner sphere of Britain’s Foreign Office, she was finally closing in on the men who would have knowledge of the codes she needed.

Lady Ravensgate fluttered her fan wildly as the former soldier approached and then let go so the fan fell directly into the Lieutenant Colonel’s path. Lady Ravensgate gasped in a bad imitation of horror as Draven bent to retrieve the fan, as any gentleman would.

“I believe you dropped this.” He rose and presented the fan to Lady Ravensgate. He was a robust man with auburn hair and sharp blue eyes. Still in the prime of life, he gave the ladies an easy smile before turning away.

“Lieutenant Colonel Draven, is it not?” Lady Ravensgate asked. The soldier raised his brows politely, his gaze traveling from Lady Ravensgate to Collette. Collette felt her cheeks heat and hated herself for it. She had always been shy and averse to attention, and no matter the steps she took to overcome her bashfulness, she could not rid herself of it completely. Especially not around men she found even remotely attractive.

Draven might have been twenty years her senior, but no one would deny he was a handsome and virile man.

“It is,” Draven answered. “And you are…?”

“Lady Ravensgate. We met at the theater last Season. You called on Mrs. Fullerton in her box where I was a guest.”

“Of course.” He bowed graciously, though Collette could tell he had no recollection of meeting her chaperone. “How good to see you again, Mrs…er…”

“Lady Ravensgate.” She gestured to Collette. “And this is my cousin, Collette Fournay. She is here visiting me from France.”

Collette curtsied, making certain not to bend over too far lest she fall out of the green-and-gold-striped silk dress Lady Ravensgate had convinced her to wear. It was one of several Lady Ravensgate had given her. She’d bought them inexpensively from a modiste who had made them for a woman who could then not afford the bill. Whoever the woman was, she had been less endowed in the bosom and hips than Collette.

“Mademoiselle Fournay.” Draven bowed to her. “And how are you liking London?” he asked in perfect French.

“I am enjoying it immensely,” she answered in English. She wanted people to forget she was French as much as possible and that meant always speaking in English, though the effort gave her an awful headache some evenings. “The dancers look to be having such a wonderful time.” The comment was not subtle, nor did she intend it to be.

“You have not had much opportunity to dance tonight, have you?” Lady Ravensgate said sympathetically.

Collette shook her head, eyeing Draven. He knew he was cornered. He took a fortifying breath. “May I have the honor of the next dance, mademoiselle?”