A Mistaken Identity, page 1
A Mistaken Identity
Book 3 of
A Victorian Romance
Lana Williams
USA Today Bestselling Author
A Mistaken Identity
Book 3 of The Mayfair Literary League
By Lana Williams
JOIN THE LADIES OF The Mayfair Literary League as they pursue a new mission: For Better or Worse.
One bold move could change their futures...
The bachelors of London won’t know what hit them when these bookish ladies set their sights on the men in their lives who don’t see them for who they truly are—yet.
How far would you go in the name of friendship?
A terrible secret...
Lady Harriet Persimmons stopped dreaming of love long ago. Her stepfather’s cruelty left her with scars that are only part of what makes her unlovable. Yet one man has caught her admiration even if he’s out of reach.
To Harriet’s dismay, her shy friend Frances carries a torch for the same gentleman. Even worse, Frances asks for Harriet’s help to gain his notice at her family’s house party.
Joseph Harris, Viscount Garland, attends the party with one goal—to convince his wealthy host to invest in his new venture. The sweet yet seductive messages he receives from the man’s daughter catch him off guard even as they intrigue him. But the notes don’t seem to match the lady herself, and her lovely friend is the one who captures his interest.
A mistaken identity...
Each moment Harriet spends with Joseph trying to convince him why Frances is perfect for him has her heart more and more entangled. The kiss they share is a terrible mistake, but one she can’t forget.
Will a mistaken identity end with the chance for a happily ever after?
Table of Contents
Other Books in the Series
Prologue
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
Epilogue
Other Books by Lana Williams
About the Author
Copyright
Other Books in The Mayfair Literary League Series:
A Marriage of Convenience, Book 1
A Pretend Betrothal, Book 2
A Mistaken Identity, Book 3
A Simple Favor, Book 4, Coming Summer 2023
Prologue
London, England 1870
“Now for the final item on our agenda,” Lady Harriet Persimmons began as she sent a nervous glance at Lady Tabitha Malton, a dear friend and fellow member of The Mayfair Literary League. “Who will be the next to move forward with For Better or Worse?”
Tabitha, or Tibby, as she was known to her friends, knew of Harriet’s plan to volunteer to be the next member to step forward for the league’s mission of making a bold move to catch the notice of the man for whom they held a secret tendre.
The sick feeling in the pit of Harriet’s stomach suggested she was either about to make a terrible mistake or had finally found the courage to reach for more in her life.
If only she knew which it was.
The For Better or Worse initiative had been introduced by Lady Phoebe Fitzroy, who was now the Countess of Bolton since she’d recently married her secret tendre. As founder of the league, she knew each of the five other members well and discovered they had something in common in addition to their love of reading—they were invisible to the gentlemen for whom they carried a secret admiration.
Phoebe had challenged each member of the book group, who’d all experienced five or more Seasons, to do something to make those men see them in a new light with the hope of catching their attention. Though Phoebe had experienced a bumpy road on her path to a happily ever after, no one could deny her success.
Still, Harriet had doubts. Given her situation, what was the point of gaining a man’s notice? Once he came to know her, he would turn and walk the other way without a backward glance.
But what if he didn’t?
That was the voice in her head she couldn’t silence. The question called to her in the quiet moments of her days. Unfortunately, she had far too many of those. It was just her and her mother, and they’d gone through so much in the past decade.
Those dark memories were unwelcome, but especially today when she was doing her best to think of her own future for once.
From what Tibby had reported moments ago to the league members regarding her attempt at a bold move, the second one to do so, it was difficult to say whether she would see true success. The situation for Tibby and Captain Shaw was still quite uncertain.
However, the courage both Phoebe and Tibby had shown was inspiring and made Harriet wonder if she might follow their examples.
The league meetings were something Harriet looked forward to each month, and since she was hosting this one as Phoebe was on her wedding trip, she needed to keep her thoughts from drifting.
Even more so since she intended to do the unthinkable—volunteer to be the next to make a bold step toward her future.
This was her chance—the impetus she needed—to attract the notice of Joseph Harris, Viscount Garland. She couldn’t say precisely why she had these unsettling feelings for him. After all, it wasn’t as if she knew him well. Yet she couldn’t deny the flutters she experienced when she caught sight of him across the ballroom. Heaven help her if he happened to speak to her, not that such a thing often occurred.
The handsome viscount had a kind smile and a way of watching her as if truly interested in what she had to say. Shadows marked his hazel eyes, suggesting he’d endured a depth of pain few others had and come out on the other side.
Though she couldn’t imagine what might’ve happened to him. From the little she knew, his life seemed perfect, but she recognized those shadows because she was a survivor as well. It was as if his wounded soul called to hers because few others could understand what they’d been through.
Harriet gave herself a mental shake at her ridiculous thoughts. In all honesty, she wasn’t even sure if he knew her name, though they’d been introduced. She wasn’t the kind of lady that people remembered. How many times had she been introduced to the same person twice because they’d forgotten her?
The longing to have Viscount Garland look at her and truly see her was overwhelming. She wanted it more than her next breath. The realization had her digging deep for courage and lifting her hand from her lap.
Before she raised it fully, Frances Melbourne jerked to her feet. “I would like to try.”
Harriet’s breath left her body in a whoosh as her hand fell to her lap, disappointment spearing through her. Frances was one of her very best friends, but Harriet had no idea that she carried a tendre for someone. Then again, Harriet hadn’t told Frances about hers either.
Ignoring the sympathetic look Tibby sent her, Harriet quickly masked her distress. Hiding her emotions had become a necessary means of survival before her stepfather’s death. Harriet had become a master at it.
Rather than indulging in self-pity, she rose to hug Frances. “How brave of you.”
“Thank you. But we will see if I manage to follow through with it.” Frances’ brown eyes brimmed with a mix of nerves and excitement.
Tibby hugged Frances as well. “That is the purpose of having the league involved. We will offer support and encourage you to move forward.”
“Yes, we will,” Harriet agreed, careful to avoid looking at Tibby.
Winifred and Millicent joined them, along with their newest member, Lady Marion.
Once refreshments were served and the ladies were visiting, Tibby moved close to Harriet. “Just because Frances is proceeding doesn’t mean you have to wait,” she whispered.
“I know. But maybe this is a sign that I should think further on the matter.” Indecision filled Harriet, stealing her earlier courage.
“Don’t think too long,” Tibby advised. “Remember, we don’t want to live with regret.”
Harriet nodded even as she worried her lip. “True. But this is probably for the best. I don’t even have a plan yet.”
“You will soon. Be prepared to take a leap of faith when the opportunity presents itself.”
Harriet pondered her words as the conversation continued around her. No matter how she’d considered the possibilities, she couldn’t think of how such an opportunity would occur. She didn’t see Viscount Garland often, other than at an occasional ball.
Her gaze rested on Frances again, who seemed to have gained enthusiasm from her announcement. Her normally shy demeanor had changed to one more animated as she spoke to the other ladies.
Harriet smiled. If this endeavor brought Frances happiness, all the better. Harriet was pleased for her.
She hoped her own day would come. For now, she would support her friend as she moved forward and learn from Frances’ experience.
Never mind the deep pang of regret that felt like a splinter in her heart.
Chapter One
Six Weeks Later...
Joseph Harris, Viscount Garland, entered the small
He was well aware that he was the only man in the place, mainly because of the glances the other ladies shopping cast his way. They clearly wished he would leave. How ridiculous that he’d had to resort to paying his parents’ footman to send word when his mother stepped out for an afternoon of shopping just so he’d have the chance to speak with her alone.
His father left him no choice. The Earl of Caldwell’s religious fervor meant any conversation with him was fraught with strife. Joseph refused to speak with him unless necessary.
If possible, Joseph would’ve cut off all ties with him. For the most part, his younger siblings had already done so. His sister had married the first man who’d showed interest, now lived in the country, and was expecting her first child. One of his brothers had also married and the youngest was studying to become a solicitor. That was a particular sore spot with their father, who’d wanted Isaac to become a clergyman. All of them, including Joseph, had left home as soon as they were of age and had the means to do so.
But his mother remained.
Joseph knew there was little he could do to protect her, especially when she refused to leave her husband. That meant Joseph did what he could to see her. If his father went out, which was rare, Joseph stopped by. If his mother went shopping, Joseph tried to join her.
Thank goodness the footman was willing to alert him with a message when either of those occasions occurred.
“Good afternoon, Mother,” he said quietly as he joined her at the counter.
Her grey gown with bell-shaped sleeves, only a hint of a bustle, and an old-fashioned black bonnet were much simpler than the ruffled and trimmed gowns most women wore these days. One could easily mistake her attire for mourning. He wondered if the choice was deliberate on her part. Did she mourn for a different life than the one she had?
“Joseph.” She glanced at him, her hazel eyes so like his own wide with surprise. She looked behind him, her brow furrowing with worry. How he hated that look. “You’re alone?”
He wasn’t certain why she bothered to ask. It wasn’t as if he accompanied his father anywhere, let alone shopping. “Yes.”
The taut lines on her narrow face eased, and she drew a relieved breath. “We haven’t seen you for some time. I hope you are well.”
That was because his father had remained home, and she hadn’t left the house. But he didn’t bother mentioning those reasons as they would fall on deaf ears. “I am. Are you?”
She was thinner than he’d like, lending her a fragile air. Yet he knew she was stronger than she looked, much like a reed bending in a strong gale, only to recover once the storm was over.
“I am.” She glanced at the glass case. “I was just admiring the display.”
Joseph followed her gaze to the pieces of lace trim that had caught her interest. “Are you looking for anything in particular?”
“Oh, no. I don’t need anything.” She never did. Yet he didn’t miss the way her focus lingered on one particular trim with a shell-like design.
His father disapproved of such embellishments, along with bold colors, or anything else that drew attention to the female body. Was it any wonder his sister had married young to escape the strict rules that had governed their home? She seemed happy, and he sincerely hoped she was.
“Please don’t tell your father I was here,” she whispered with a quick look around the shop. As if he would. “He doesn’t like me to shop in places like this.”
“Of course not.” He touched her arm to reassure her but as always, she stiffened in response, uncomfortable with displays of affection. Joseph blamed that on his father as well.
“What have you been doing of late?” he asked.
“The usual things, I suppose.” As if realizing he wanted to know more, she added, “I’m working on a new piece of embroidery.”
“Oh?” His heart ached that such an ordinary activity was the extent of her news. She had loved to paint when he was young and was quite skilled at watercolors. His father preferred she spend her time doing something more industrious. “What are you creating?”
She glanced at him from under her lashes, no doubt confused by his word choice. But he wanted her to know that even if she was stitching seat cushions, pillows, or something equally practical, she was still creating. “It’s a garden scene for a pillow. Quite colorful.”
He smiled, appreciating that she found small ways to rebel against his father’s preference for all things monochrome, not to mention his need for control. “I look forward to seeing it.”
“Your father has been busy.”
“Oh?” With something other than quoting Bible verses, he wondered.
“Reverend Henderson has been a regular visitor of late.”
The news didn’t please Joseph.
Reverend Charles Henderson was a devout Christian as well. It was no wonder his father admired the man. However, Henderson had a slick quality about him that Joseph didn’t care for. Already, his father had given him money on numerous occasions. From what Joseph had discovered, it added up to a significant amount.
Yet his father insisted there wasn’t enough money to drill a new well or purchase updated plows for their country estate, not to mention roof and fence repairs.
“I’d hoped the man would find someone else to bother.” Joseph didn’t think his mother cared for the man either, though she never said as much.
That she didn’t disagree with his comment suggested she might think the same. Her silence only made him worry more.
Joseph had grown concerned over the past few years about his father’s lack of interest in what was happening to the tenants and the declining income of the estate.
He’d researched new methods of farming to make the land more efficient as well as new strains of seeds to improve the harvest and had several ideas they could implement to increase income. But his father refused to invest in any of it. With little money of his own, Joseph was hard-pressed to make improvements without his father’s agreement.
However, he’d been working on an investment opportunity that could provide funds for those improvements. First, he needed to find some investors.
“He closets himself in with your father for hours at a time.”
The matter sounded concerning, especially since he didn’t trust Henderson.
“Do you know of what they speak?” Frequent meetings could mean they were planning something. If so, Joseph wanted to know what it was.
His father might not care what happened to the people who depended on the Caldwell estate for their livelihood, but Joseph did. Anything he could do now to provide additional income would lessen the problems he’d face when he inherited.
“No.” Yet the wrinkle of her brow suggested she knew or suspected something.
He waited a moment, but she said nothing more. “If you happen to hear any details, please let me know.”
Her mouth tightened, and for a moment, he feared she’d refuse. “I’ll try.”
“Thank you.”
“I should be going,” she said.
“Are you sure there isn’t something you’d like to buy while you’re here?”
Again, she glanced at the lace trim with the fancy shells but immediately shook her head. “No. I don’t need anything.”
Perhaps. But sometimes, it was nice to have something simply because one wanted it. He didn’t press her when it would only make her uncomfortable.
“It was nice to see you, Joseph.” Her gaze held on him, raking over his face, making him wonder what she saw. To his surprise, she leaned close and hugged him, albeit awkwardly.
He kissed her cheek, his heart squeezing with regret. “Take care, Mother.”
She nodded and walked to the door. But the expression on her face when she’d spoken about Reverend Henderson remained in his mind. If she was troubled by the reverend’s conversations with his father, he was, too.
The situation made it even more important that he move forward with his investment plan as quickly as possible. But first, he wanted to purchase the lace trim for her that she’d so admired.
