Table of Contents
Cover
Endorsements
Half Title Page
Books By Joanna Davidson Politano
Title Page
Copyright Page
Contents
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Epilogue
An Excerpt of the Next Intriguing Romance
Discussion Questions
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Back Ads
Back Cover
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“Whimsy. Intrigue. Danger and tenderness. Finding Lady Enderly is an endearing tale that grabbed me right from the beginning and held on until the last page. Travel along with heroine Raina Bretton as she wrestles with not only Lady Enderly’s identity but her own—which begs the question for us all to ponder who we are at heart. An excellent read!”
Michelle Griep, Christy award–winning author of the Once Upon a Dickens Christmas series
“With haunting prose, Joanna Davidson Politano delivers a story worthy of lining the shelves with other classics of mystery, romance, and misplaced heroines. In a literary form that harkens to the Brontë sisters, Finding Lady Enderly delivers a compelling and thoughtful journey into the cynical world of inheritance, the heartfelt loyalty of childhood love, and the lingering question that overshadows them all: Where is Lady Enderly? A dead-or-alive ghost story of sorts, it will keep you looking over your shoulder and hearing whispers of intrigue all the way to the final page. I cannot recommend Joanna Davidson Politano enough!”
Jaime Jo Wright, Daphne du Maurier and Christy award–winning author of The House on Foster Hill
Praise for Joanna Davidson Politano
“Everyone loves a treasure hunt—pair it with a heroine you can’t help but love, a hero you can’t help but swoon over, and a family mystery that’ll keep you on the edge of your seat, and you end up with A Rumored Fortune. This book is a treasure in itself and one you won’t be able to put down!”
Roseanna M. White, bestselling author of the Ladies of the Manor series and Shadows Over England series on A Rumored Fortune
“Politano pens a sweet and clever story-within-a-story full of Victorian intrigue.”
Booklist on A Rumored Fortune
“Politano combines romance and mystery with great skill to create plot twists that will keep readers captivated until the very end.”
Publishers Weekly on Lady Jayne Disappears
Books By Joanna Davidson Politano
Lady Jayne Disappears
A Rumored Fortune
Finding Lady Enderly
© 2019 by Joanna Davidson Politano
Published by Revell
a division of Baker Publishing Group
PO Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287
www.revellbooks.com
Ebook edition created 2019
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4934-1774-2
Scripture used in this book, whether quoted or paraphrased by the characters, is taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Contents
Cover
Endorsements
Half Title Page
Books By Joanna Davidson Politano
Title Page
Copyright Page
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
Epilogue
An Excerpt of the Next Intriguing Romance
Discussion Questions
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Back Ads
Back Cover
1
I do not truly wish for all my dreams to come true. After all, nightmares are one type of dream.
~Diary of a Substitute Countess
SPITALFIELDS, LONDON’S EAST END, 1871
For one blessed moment I was beautiful. The flickering gaslights of Church Street illuminated my reflection in a window, and I gasped at the vision of loveliness framed on the grimy pane of Bryn and Saunders Textiles. I paused and twirled my hair up, looking with wonder at the whole of me in this luscious borrowed gown—shapely, trim, and utterly feminine. For the first time in my life, my willowy body was fitted in a garment with shape and form.
Mercy gracious, I looked like a normal woman.
A flash of vanity lighted my heart, but it was snuffed by chilly fear a moment later. The grim reflection of a fine-suited gentleman lurked behind my image in the window, moving steadily toward me. He must be coming for the gown and shoes.
With a shiver, I dropped my upswept hair and slipped into the shadows of the building, heart thudding with powerful force as I hurried away. The stranger’s shoes clicked on the damp street behind me, splatting over little rivulets of rainwater as they moved toward me with purpose. I had only meant to borrow them and return them before they were missed, but what could I do now—strip down to my dirty chemise and run through the streets?
“You there.” His low voice thudded through my senses, sparking me into action.
I sprinted past my rag cart and down a narrow, unlit street. I never should have touched the thing. The gown had been lying across a chair in the Hollingsworths’ laundry cellar, and the maid had left me alone with it while she’d gone to fetch the castoffs for me. Once I glimpsed the ivory organza, and the little jeweled slippers cast under a stool, I hadn’t the strength to leave them alone. I’d intended to return them within minutes. An hour at most.
Yet there was no point in stopping for explanations, for I was a rag woman, as much a castoff as the rags I peddled. People called me Ragna, a cruel twist on my real name, Raina. I sprinted with all my might, loose rocks skittering under my feet as I hurtled through the shadows, dodging the yellow glow of streetlights. I stumbled as one of those ridiculous slippers came loose, and I kicked it off, darting on one sh
oe and bare toes into the first alley I saw. I stumbled into the dark and thunk—my shins collided with something wooden, sending me sprawling over the broken cobblestones in a pile of crinoline and mud.
Miserable crates.
My pursuer turned the corner into the alley too, and I glanced back to find myself in a dead end with walls surrounding me on three sides, the man blocking my only escape and closing the distance between us. Cornered, I wrenched the other jeweled shoe off and held it aloft. The long, dark shadow of the man approached with steady confidence, and I realized he’d kill me and then drag my dead body to the constable. Defeat stole over me as I gripped the accidentally pilfered shoe. I’d survived twenty-two years in this slum, fought off every evil around me like a cornered tiger, only to be hanged for this—a mere moment of weakness.
I scrambled back into the alley’s shadow as the steady rhythm of his approaching footsteps continued. Rooted to the spot by fear, I prayed to God that the foreboding stranger who most certainly did not belong in this section of London would simply ignore the pile of finery tangled in long limbs and move on.
Yet it seemed God had other plans, for the man strode through the dark right up to me, the tips of his shiny leather shoes coming to a stop before the hem of the once-white gown. I looked up into the finest face I ever remembered seeing inside of Spitalfields as the gaslights along the main street highlighted his confident features. Fear drowned my voice into silence as the fine gent crouched before me with a conspiratorial smile and held out the shoe I’d abandoned.
“Pardon me, have you lost a glass slipper?”
Shock pulsed through me. His handsome blond curls caught the moon’s glow as a smile warmed his face. I forced myself to breathe.
He reached toward my dirty bare foot and his nearness sent me scrambling upright, leveling a glare at him as I brushed smudges of mud off my bare arm.
Men grew uncomfortably brazen as the sun set over this cramped little section of town. Did he think his fine appearance would earn whatever he wanted from me? “Thank you kindly for the shoe, sir, but if you’ll excuse me.” I felt the sting of my words, but I’d lived long enough to know that kindness from strangers must be clearly snubbed. Anything less would find a girl helpless and ruined.
“You are excused.” But he merely rose to stand before me, remaining in my path with his arms crossed over his chest. He tipped his head and smiled down at me. “Are you all right, then? No harm came from your tumble?”
“Perfectly well, thank you.” I smoothed the limp dress over my body and attempted to duck around him, but he stepped easily in front of me.
“If you’ll give me but a moment, I believe I can help.”
Help, indeed. “You’re blocking my way.”
“Or perhaps enticing you to take an entirely new one.” He lowered his voice. “No woman ought to live this way.”
“Hoping to save the lot of us poor folk, then? That’ll take a fair bit of time, sir, and all your fortune.” I watched him, breathing hard and poised to escape this odd encounter at the first chance. Whatever it was he offered, it could hardly be chivalrous.
“Won’t you give me but a moment of your time? I only wish to help, and I’ve a splendid opportunity in mind.”
“I’m not in need of one.” I shoved past him and limped toward the main street on two sticks of throbbing pain but my chin up, leaving this darkly clad stranger with as much conviction as any high-bred lady might. When it came to these sorts of men, don’t run and they won’t chase—every Spitalfields lass knew the rule, but this was my first chance to test the old adage.