Free Haunted Hearts by Teresa DesJardien Page A

short order there were a dozen he could properly call by name.
    He was no longer a stranger to London.
    After pretending to evince some interest in a timepiece at the watchmaker’s, and after a half hour of even more introductions, he made his sincere excuses to the older man who had done him such a kindness, and rode away toward Hyde Park. He looked for another not-too-blatant opportunity to introduce himself…but he knew he also looked for her .
    It was ridiculous, of course. The Lady Cat had taken pains to hide her identity, even if she wasn’t his missing informant. She’d meant to remain unknown, and he had no real reason to seek her out. If she was the sort to be invited to parties such as Lord Quinn threw, she was no manner of a good candidate as a wife for him, not to a man who might put a toe into a different kind of governmental pond, that of serving in the Upper House.
    Still, there’d been polish in her manners, so surely it was possible she might be found among the members of the ton spending their morning strolling and shopping…? But, no, not really. Might she?
    It was preposterous to bother to look… But look he did, even as he shook his head at himself.
    His name continued to cause a bit of a stir. Many were, just as Lord Broderring had been, surprised to learn Ewald’s heir had returned from climes afar.
    “Do you have a house in London?” a pretty brunette, Miss Malcolm, asked him as she slowly spun her parasol over her shoulder.
    “I do. I have chosen to reside in the old family home in George Street.”
    “And do you intend to remain in England permanently now?” She tilted her head, to look up at him with a slant of her dark eyes. Dark eyes. This is not my mystery cat.
    “I do so intend, my lady.” He would’ve had to be blind not to see the flicker of interest this claim created in the lady’s gaze. He gave the young woman a second glance, idly wondering if she might prove to be the future Lady Ewald.
    As his wanderings continued, Ian had to admit to himself there were other ladies who showed interest in his prospects, from misses to mamas--but none of them had the form or coloring of last night’s lady.
    He frowned to himself. He couldn’t like that the lady--in his own mind, he’d begun to simply call her Cat--had caught his fancy so firmly. It was useless to ponder who she was; irrelevant. He was setting his sails toward a domestic harbor: he wanted a home, and a home wanted a wife. A man wished to take to wife a beauty who was sweet, and clever, and unique, and…
    And who knew if Cat was any of those things?
    A call interrupted his thoughts. It only took him a few seconds to realize here was a Charley, one of England’s night watchmen, calling out the hour and naming the waning day as being All Saints. The early dusk of a cool November 1 st night was chasing the last of the few intrepid park riders back to their homes. Though, he thought with a nod toward superstition, perhaps their defection was caused by the watchman crying out his warning that the ghosts of All Souls’ were on their way. Ian smiled to himself, used to all manner of superstitions; there had been plenty in Turkey, India, and any of the other countries where he’d lived. For himself, he decided, he liked the watchman and his portents, and he smiled again as he thought if he was introducing himself to his homeland, it was introducing itself right back.
    As he mounted and turned his horse, it was not toward home. Instead he rode into an obviously poorer part of town, one of those avenues of twisted alleys that every city hosts, and wandered into a smoky and thickly populated tavern.
    “Good Publican, a round for the house!” he cried as he entered first the one, and in time several more. When asked who was paying, he always answered in a voice intended to reach multiple ears, “Why, it is the new Viscount Ewald, come to celebrate his homecoming!”
    He stayed long enough to be seen sipping his ale, and to let