WANTED: TITLE OF COUNTESS

  CALLING ALL RAKES

  TAMMY ANDRESEN

  Copyright © 2022 by Tammy Andresen

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  CONTENTS

  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Thank you!

  The Duke Who Dared

  About the Author

  Other Titles by Tammy

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  www.tammyandresen.com

  Hugs!

  FOREWORD

  Before we begin…a quick geography lesson…

  Laurel Brightmore’s story is set in her home village of Warrington, which is twenty miles east of Liverpool as the crow flies. Along the River Mercer, the route is slightly longer, especially given the fact that Laurel must stop in the villages of Widnes and Garston along the way as well as St. Michael’s Hamlet before finally making it to Liverpool and the end of the journey.

  I hope you enjoy traveling with her!

  “From the beginning, I have wondered if I was seeking you or her…. I believe the answer was always both. And now that I’ve found her, I find I can’t let you go either.” — Laurel

  CHAPTER ONE

  Laurel woke with a gasp, sitting up in her bed, her heart thrumming in her chest. The room was still pitch dark and cool from the evening, but sweat beaded her brows as she attempted to catch her breath.

  She’d had the dream again…

  The one that had plagued her for the past year. Night after night, she revisited the day she’d lost her sister…

  Worse still, new details emerged the longer she had the dream, each one more painful than the last.

  First, she’d remembered the ice-cold water, then the feeling of sinking under as light filtered down below the surface. She’d been trying so hard to reach that surface with every kick, she’d push up a bit, only to sink farther in the deep.

  And then there was the stillness of giving up.

  And the darkness that quickly followed.

  She scrubbed her face with her hands, attempting to make the remnants of the dream disappear.

  But the wisps of memories persisted.

  The light, like pinpricks filtering back into her eyes. And then the vomiting of water as her stomach pushed out the water, her body heaving and retching.

  A hand at her back.

  Was it her sister? Had Daniella pulled her from the dark depths? “Daniella?” she pushed out through frozen lips.

  “Another was with you?” Not Daniella. This voice was deep, masculine.

  She turned to look, the features blurred, only the color of the eyes clear. Deep and blue and sparkling in an errant ray of sunshine.

  “Daniella,” she repeated, this time frantic. “Daniella.”

  He stood, scanning the landscape, his eyes hard and distant.

  Laurel tried to sit up. Where was her sister? Why was this man looking for her?

  But then he vanished.

  A low moan ripped from her lips as Laurel tossed off the covers, climbing from the bed. The only way to truly clear the dream from her mind was to get up and move.

  But with each repetition, the details seemed to be etched more sharply. Had the man saved her? She’d been so afraid of him in the dream.

  But had her fear been misplaced? She shook her head. So many questions.

  And after a year of wondering, she knew the dream would only leave her if she found answers.

  Which was why she’d hired two private investigators.

  She used the word hired loosely. The two women who’d agreed to help her were both excellent sleuths. One was a countess who’d solved murders for the police; Lady Charlotte Westmoreland was a countess by day and a top-notch investigator at night.

  And Lady Rebecca Northampton, a marchioness and former newspaper investigator and writer, had an incredible amount of resources at her fingertips.

  The ladies had begun by combing through all the old articles about Daniella’s disappearance, which had been ruled a drowning. In fact, they met in the dining room each morning to read more.

  The clock in the hall chimed, and she counted five strikes. The sun would rise soon, and Charlotte and Rebecca would arrive promptly at eight. They always did.

  There was little point in attempting to return to slumber, so she crossed to the pan of water placed in the dressing table and splashed several handfuls on her face. She might as well ready herself for the day.

  A few hours later, Laurel sat with the two women as they worked, not that she understood everything they said. They spoke some common language she didn’t share. Still, she listened attentively, trying to discern where the search was leading them.

  “Interesting,” Charlotte said as she pointed at a piece of text. Her dark hair was simply knotted back, her willowy body straight and erect. “What do you think of this?”

  “He’s on the list of men to question for certain,” Rebecca answered, her perfect features set in serious lines. A classic beauty, Rebecca tapped her flawless chin as she pursed her lips, her bright green eyes staring off into the distance.

  “Who?” Laurel had asked, squinting down at the page. The name of the local commissioner was just above Charlotte’s finger. He’d newly taken the position when Daniella had been washed away, and he held it still. “Constable Danby was very sympathetic all through the process of searching for Daniella.”

  “Hmmm,” Charlotte had answered.

  “His name keeps coming up.” Rebecca scribbled something in a notebook she kept in her lap. “He made a great many statements.”

  “He investigated her disappearance,” Laurel added uselessly. She knew she wasn’t helping.

  “We’ll speak with him,” Rebecca assured her, continuing to read, her green eyes flicking up to Laurel’s as they softened a great deal. “He will be our best resource for certain.”

  “Agreed,” Charlotte replied. “Let’s have that conversation this morning before we begin the other interviews this afternoon.”

  “Interviews?” Laurel asked.

  “I’ve placed an ad in the paper and offered a reward for any information that proves pertinent,” Rebecca said still writing. “I’ve asked people come today and tomorrow between the hours of noon and four.”

  Her breath caught. “That is a very good idea.” She gave her a small smile of thanks, which surely did not reach her eyes. She was tired. All this talk had stirred up all her emotions and now her dreams plagued her nightly.

  But the sooner they completed this investigation, the more quickly she could move forward. Hopefully.

  Parker stood at the bank of the river in the village of Warrington, staring into its merry depths. Nearly the end of summer, the water bubbled cheerily as it passed over rocks, its sandy bottom clear and enticing.

  But that wasn’t how the river appeared years ago.

  He’d been sixteen, and he’d come here for the spring to visit with his grandmother. It was a trip he made every few years, though that had been the very last.

  But he’d come to stay as had been the tradition. The dowager countess loved having him as a child, and he’d loved visiting her. She allowed him more freedom to wander and explore instead of the ceaseless lessons he’d had at home.

  All the while, she’d tell him stories of his own father’s childhood infused with tutorials on how to be an earl when his turn would come. She’d been the best teacher of them all, and his heart swelled to think of her.

  Here in Warrington, he had some of his fondest memories, which made his last visit even more terrible.

  He’d been walking the river, thinking about everything and nothing in particular, when a strange churning and bubbling had caught his notice. Moving closer, he watched in horror as a girl passed by him trapped under the water. Her gaze caught his, large and filled with fear and already nearly of the other world.

  Without thought, he’d dived into the churning river.

  He’d always been a strong swimmer, and he’d cut through the water, reaching her in seconds, and pulling her from the icy depths.

  Dragging her onto the bank, she lay motionless, and without thought, he’d turned her on her side and pounded on her back until she’d vomited up a ridiculous amount of water.

  Only a single word passed her lips. Daniella.

  But that was all he’d needed to know. There was another girl. And heedless to the cold that was already seeping into his bones, he’d set off down the riverbank in a sprint.

  He’d searched much of the day, following the twisting banks two villages over before he’d given up his search. He’d asked the occasional passerby for help, and when the constables of two villages had taken up the search, he’d stopped.

  Daniella had either been found or she was gone, and he’d returned to his grandmother, a shivering heap as he’d stripped off his clothes and stepped into a hot bath.

  But not even the steaming waters could undo the damage of the cold and he’d developed an infection in the lungs from which it had taken him close to a month to recover.

  By the time he’d finally grown strong enough to be out and about, he was sent home where his parents had allowed him even less freedom than before.

  He frowned. A year later, they’d died when their boat had been caught in a storm and, becoming the earl, his grandmother had moved to live with him.

  He’d not been back to Warrington since.

  But here he was, staring into the very river that had altered his own course.

  A carriage rumbled by, stopping on Main Street, three distinguished women emerging from the vehicle.

  The first tall and thin, she held her chin high. The second, striking in her beauty and bearing and the third…

  The third made his breath catch.

  Younger, she looked like a rare flower…an orchid perhaps, in her white muslin gown and her wide-brimmed hat.

  Her thick, shining brown hair was twisted back in an intricate coif that displayed its abundance, her gentle curves swaying as she walked.

  The three women collected themselves and then made their way into the constable’s office.

  He cocked his head, his curiosity piqued. Why would three such women need the help of the law?

  Did he follow to find out?

  Was he just hoping to catch sight of the woman who’d caught his fancy?

  He’d not been able to see her features, but he imagined her a beauty. Debating, he stood on the bank for a moment, before he decided to make his way inside.

  He’d have to think of a reason why, but he’d worry about that in the moment.

  Giving his head a shake, he started for the office, realizing that Warrington never seemed to disappoint.

  He’d not met a woman who’d captured his interest for such a long time. But here, something out of the ordinary never failed to happen.

  With that in mind, he opened the door to see the three women sitting in front of the constable, each with her hands folded in her lap as they quietly asked questions.

  It was the constable himself who grew louder with each sentence spoken.

  “What are you suggesting, my lady?”

  “I am not suggesting anything, constable. I merely asked if you’d retained the records of anyone you might have questioned in this village or others,” the tall one asked.

  “Her drowning was ten years ago. Of course I didn’t.”

  Drowning? Ten years? He stood straighter.

  It had been ten years since he’d left here. Since he’d saved that girl and lost another…

  “Do you remember anyone whom you might have spoken to in any of the villages?” The tall one asked as she looked over to the middle woman, the two of them exchanging a glance.

  But the third…the one who’d caught his fancy outside twisted her hands together. “We have appreciated your work a great deal, constable.”

  The constable smiled at the other woman. “Thank you, Lady Laurel. I was always happy to serve your family.”

  “And pleased to give interviews,” the tall one said, leaning forward.

  “I beg your pardon?” he asked sharply.

  She didn’t move back, despite the rising volume of his voice. He even spit a bit as he spoke, his teeth beginning to show. Parker had to admire the woman’s spunk even if she was unlikely to get much information if she continued down this path.

  “Well, sir. I did notice that you gave an interview to a different post nearly every day during a two-week time period.”

  “What are you insinuating?” he growled out, rising from his seat.

  The woman did not move. “I am simply stating a fact.”

  “A fact?”

  “Yes. They are points of data that are not colored by opinion.”

  “Charlotte,” the middle woman spoke softly. “This is how you really incite irritation.”

  “Do I?” Charlotte asked with a small shrug.

  “I do not need you to define what a fact is,” the constable said now menacingly, his teeth gritting as his hands clenched the edge of the desk.

  “You asked,” Charlotte responded. “But since I have told you my point of data, I may as well ask the follow-up question. If you were giving daily interviews, when did you have time to investigate?”

  The third woman gasped even as the constable spluttered unintelligibly. Parker did all he could do not to laugh. It was an excellent question, though unlikely to get the woman the information she wanted.

  But Charlotte continued, “You clearly did not travel very far. Which villages did you visit? How many people did you speak to?”

  “How dare you, you charlatan—”

  “And which points of data do you have to support that claim, sir?” Charlotte bit back, now rising. “Because if you have none, you will address me as the Countess of Westmoreland. I, on the other hand, have several key facts to support that fact that you, sir, are the charlatan.”

  The constable’s face went from red to purple as he spluttered nonsensically in an attempt to form words.

  “Charlotte,” the middle one said as she gave Charlotte’s arm a poke.

  “Yes, Rebecca?” she asked, still glaring at the constable.

  “Next time, I shall conduct the interview myself,” Rebecca huffed. “Constable Danby. My apologies. If you find any of your old investigation notes or if you think of anything, please feel free to contact me. I can assure you that we do not doubt your skills or your effort. Lady Laurel has had some memories surface and we only seek to add these new facts into the ones that presented themselves at the time.”

  The constable eased back, and after several seconds, the red in his face returned to a more normal hue. “Well then…in that case, I shall look and see if I saved anything.”

  “Thank you,” Rebecca said, giving a nod and then turning away, grabbing Charlotte’s arm. “Please seek me directly at Lord Brightmore’s estate.”

  The two women started forward, Lady Laurel behind them as they made their way toward him.

  Rebecca spoke in a loud whisper as they passed. “You have an uncanny ability to quickly and directly get under a man’s skin.”

  “I can’t help it if they are incompetent,” Charlotte huffed back.

  “Must you point it out within the first three minutes?” Rebecca quipped back. “Couldn’t you wait until after we’ve gotten the information that we needed?”

  Charlotte sniffed. “Your point holds some merit.”

  Rebecca shook her head but then gave him a nod as they made to pass by him. He smiled in return. He stepped forward, intent upon introducing himself and asking about their cause.

  Was it the very incident he’d been a part of ten years ago?

  But as they came abreast of him, Lady Laurel’s gaze met his, her large hazel eyes wide with surprise and some spark of recognition.

  They pulled at a memory even as he drank in her beauty.

  She was even more stunning that he’d imagined from afar, with large eyes fringed with dark lashes. Pink bloomed on her cheeks and a small, straight nose highlighted her rosy lips and full cheekbones. She stole his breath, which was likely why it took a moment to realize that the lovely shade of pale pink that had filled them was draining even as her lips parted in surprise.

  “You,” she muttered, her feet stopping as she stared. “It’s you.”

  And then her gaze grew unfocused as she wobbled on her feet. He didn’t think any more as he stepped forward and caught the lady in his arms as she crumpled toward the ground.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Was she having the dream again?

  Laurel wasn’t certain, but she could feel herself swimming out of a deep darkness, encapsulated by strong arms.

 

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