Her Accidental Groom
By Nadine Millard
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, business establishments, events, locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by Nadine Millard
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book.
Dedication
For Alena. My very own princess.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Prologue
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
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
Other Titles by Nadine Millard
About the Author- Nadine Millard
PROLOGUE
Lady Natalia Soronsky’s heart was racing, though outwardly she remained calm.
It was a big change for a young woman, moving from Russia to England.
Natalia attending Miss Fincham’s finishing school had been something her English mama had dreamed of for her daughter.
“It shaped me into the woman I am today, Talia. And it will shape you into the woman I know you can become.”
Natalia was a precocious child. She’d heard that sentiment enough to know it must be true.
Papa called her a rough diamond. He was sorry to see her go but could see the merit in her travelling to her mother’s family in England and attending finishing school before returning home and choosing a suitable husband from the Russian nobility.
That was the plan for Natalia’s life, and at only twelve years old, she had neither the inclination nor the wherewithal to argue.
Travelling to England seemed a grand adventure to her young mind.
Certainly, she would miss her family greatly; Mama, Papa, and the twins Petr and Andrei. But she would also get to know her mother’s family properly, given that she would be staying with Aunt Mary, Mama’s sister, when not at Miss Fincham’s.
Natalia stood on the deck of the ship, watching the unchanging expanse of water all around her.
By the time she returned to Russia, she would be a proper English lady, just like Mama.
And, Papa informed her regularly during the long, monotonous trip to England; she would come home, meet the gentlemen that Papa wished her to marry, pick one, and live out her life just as he intended.
CHAPTER ONE
“I just cannot believe it has come around so quickly.”
Talia bit her lip anxiously as she ran her gaze once more over Mama’s elegant handwriting, though she could have recited by heart what the letter contained at this point.
Her friend, Lady Beatrice, reached over and patted Talia’s hand sympathetically.
“Surely your father does not expect you to travel so close to Christmastide?” she said with worry, a frown creasing her forehead.
Natalia shook her head swiftly, her sable curls bouncing with the action.
“No,” she sighed. “He is coming here.”
Her ice-blue eyes scanned the missive once more.
My dearest Natalia,
Your father has decided on three suitable grooms and believes it is time you return home.
We will travel to England to spend Christmas with my sister, and then we will all return home to Russia so you may choose your husband.
The twins are so looking forward to seeing you, as am I, my dear.
Eight years is far too long to spend away from you, my daughter.
With all my love,
Mama
It was true, of course. Eight years was too long. What’s more, it was four years longer than it should have been.
The plan had been for Natalia to come to England and attend Miss Fincham’s finishing school from ages twelve to sixteen then return to Russia, enter Society, and meet the right sort of gentleman.
But from almost the first moment Natalia had arrived in England, she had fallen in love with the country.
And while she missed Russia and her family, she had been so very happy here.
Besides, as she’d gotten older, Natalia had realised that the last thing she wanted was a husband picked for her by her father, especially before she’d even set eyes on him!
Natalia wanted to live her own life. Choose her own path.
And going home to Russia, to a man of whom Papa approved, was certainly not living her own life.
For four years she’d managed to put her father off. First by claiming that she needed to experience a London Season to be a truly well-rounded lady like Mama, then by claiming Aunt Mary was in ill health and needed Natalia by her side.
The latter was only half true. Aunt Mary had been in ill health, but she had never expressed a wish to have Talia remain with her, though she was always happy to have her there.
With only sons, Aunt Mary had enjoyed having a surrogate daughter around.
But Freddie and Joseph were married now, with wives and children, and Aunt Mary had plenty of family nearby.
Talia was running out of excuses. And it seemed like Papa was running out of patience.
“What will you do?” Bea asked now.
“What can I do?” Talia countered.
Beatrice and Natalia had met on the first day of Miss Fincham’s finishing school and had been fast friends ever since.
Bea was the only child of an obscenely wealthy widow, Lady Fortescue.
When they met, her friend had been missing her recently deceased father, and Natalia was missing her family, so the girls had bonded from the start.
Given that Bea had no siblings, only an odious, arrogant cad of a cousin, Lord Benjamin Trafford, Earl of Staunton, the girls had grown closer still, like sisters.
They had been introduced since Lady Fortescue and Aunt Mary were neighbours, their country seats only five miles from one another. But the friendship that had grown from that first introduction was genuine and precious to them both.
The drawing room in which they now stood was as familiar to Natalia as her own home with Aunt Mary, so often did she come here.
How could she leave all of this behind?
How could she say goodbye to Beatrice and the life she’d known here to marry some Russian nobleman she’d never even met?
She couldn’t. It was as simple as that.
“Perhaps, if you reasoned with your father?” Beatrice said now, a tinge of desperation in her voice. “Perhaps, if you explained how happy you are here, how settled?”
“It’s no use, Bea,” Natalia answered, though her mind was whirring with crazy, insane possibilities. “My father isn’t a man to be reasoned with,” she finished distractedly, schemes and potential plans flitting around her head.
Papa was determined for her to marry.
But what if she were already engaged by the time he got here?
Her family would arrive in England next week.
And Christmas Day was two weeks after that. Father intended for them all to be gone by Twelfth Night.
All she needed, Natalia thought excitedly, was a fiancé. Someone to whom she could be betrothed – or
at least fake betrothed.
It would only need to last long enough to buy her some time. Long enough to get Papa to return to Russia without her.
If she could convince her father that she was engaged and that she would wed the year after, that he could return to England from Russia then to see her married, she wouldn’t be forced to go home and marry a stranger.
A lot could happen in a year, she reasoned as she hastily thought through her scheme. The man could cry off!
Or, or be killed at sea, or something equally tragic.
If she were heartbroken, that would buy her at least another few years. Even her father wouldn’t force her to marry if her one true love was at the bottom of the Atlantic.
“Bea,” she turned to her friend, hearing the excitement in her own voice.
Bea’s hazel eyes widened at whatever she saw in Talia’s expression.
“Oh Lord,” her friend said dubiously. “What are you up to?”
“I need a fiancé,” Natalia declared triumphantly.
Beatrice frowned, a light brown curl falling over her forehead with the action.
“Erm – yes,” she said in confusion. “Isn’t that what we’ve been worrying about?”
“Not a real one,” Natalia said with exasperation. “A fake one.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Bea gasped.
Natalia jumped up and began pacing on the Aubusson rug.
“Father is determined to see me married. But he didn’t say when he wanted me married by. If I can make him think I’ve found a suitable match here in England, that should be enough to throw him off. To get me my freedom, at least for a while, until I figure out something more permanent.”
Beatrice shook her head.
“It all sounds very complicated,” she said. “And dishonest,” she added, her tone laced with disapproval.
Beatrice was nothing if not proper and decorous at every turn.
“Couldn’t you just marry someone and stay here?”
Natalia immediately shook her head.
“No, I could not,” she said firmly. “I won’t marry a man unless I’m quite desperately in love with him,” she continued determinedly. “And if I haven’t met such a man up until now, it’s highly unlikely that I’ll meet one in the next week.”
She moved swiftly back to the chaise, sitting in a flurry of white sprigged muslin.
“I just need a fiancé until Papa goes home,” she said quickly. “And then I can kill him off or make him a blackguard who breaks my heart.”
Bea’s eyes widened in alarm, but Talia ignored it. Sometimes Bea just didn’t have the stomach for what was necessary. And she’d never really shared Talia’s flair for the dramatic.
“And when you break this ‘engagement,’” Bea said with a frown. “What then? Your father will just come right back and take you away.”
Natalia frowned.
Hmm. An excellent point.
But soon enough she rallied.
“I’ll simply deal with that when the time comes,” she said airily. “After all, if I kill him off, I could be broken hearted for years,” she finished gleefully, ignoring Beatrice’s gasp of disapproval.
There was a short silence whilst Bea mulled over Natalia’s plan.
Eventually, however, she spoke again.
“It seems you are determined,” Bea said, and Natalia could sense a however coming.
“However,” her friend continued, “There is one rather large problem you have yet to address.”
“Oh?” Natalia smiled rather smugly, for she knew her plan was practically fool proof. “And what’s that?”
“There is the matter of the gentleman, Natalia,” Bea said. “Where exactly are you going to find a man of whom your father will approve, and who will agree to a crazy charade such as this?”
Another excellent question. But Natalia wouldn’t be deterred.
“Come,” Natalia said suddenly, too worked up to remain seated inside. “Let’s go for a walk in the garden. It will help me think.”
CHAPTER TWO
Benjamin Trafford, Earl of Staunton, pulled at his cravat as he awaited an audience with his aunt.
Aunt Elizabeth, or rather Lady Fortescue, was a formidable woman, of that there was no doubt.
She was his father’s older sister and, more importantly, the widow of one of the richest Peers in Christendom.
The title and holdings of the Fortescue earldom had passed to the lady’s nephew on her husband’s side, since she hadn’t begotten a son.
But her own money was still not to be sniffed at.
In fact, upon her husband’s death, Aunt Elizabeth had inherited a fortune that would rival that of a small country’s.
Benjamin was ashamed to say that his aunt had been bankrolling the family almost since his infancy.
Ben’s father had been a wastrel who had squandered the family money before Ben had been out of short trousers.
His death ten years ago had left Ben with an earldom in chaos, a mountain of debt, and a real possibility of debtor's prison.
For the last decade, Ben had fought like a lion to keep his head above water. He had refused to take any more money from his aunt. Instead choosing to be parsimonious with what little he had.
His sisters were taken care of – both receiving Come Outs as were befitting the sisters of an earl. But he’d been frugal with it. Having only a skeletal staff in London and refusing to spend more than absolutely necessary on their fashions.
Thankfully, it had paid off, and they both found themselves happily married and no longer relying on Ben to finance them.
Their dowries had almost crippled him and had only been available because he’d sold two hunting lodges, one in Scotland and one in Wales, and he’d lived on the bones of his arse for years now, providing for his mother and his tenants as best he could within the confines of limited cash.
But it never seemed to be enough.
Everything he made he pumped back into his estates so they were at least in the black, if only just.
But there was no real possibility of things improving unless he got an influx of coin, and fast.
When Aunt Elizabeth had sent word that she wished to see him, Ben thought perhaps it was Providence. A sign that the time had come to rid himself of his damnable pride and ask his aunt for help.
With money in the earldom’s coffers, he could invest properly in his farmlands, increase his investments in his various business ventures, and start to make real money. Money he could pay back to his aunt sooner rather than later.
Ben had a keen eye for business and had never made a bad investment. He could change the future of the family title for years to come within six months. He knew he could.
Perhaps even start thinking about his duty to marry and produce an heir.
But nothing could be further from his mind right now.
For one thing, he would never even consider marrying someone and dragging her into the current financial mess he was in. For another, there wasn’t a single lady of his acquaintance to whom he felt even a passing attraction.
He stood agitatedly and walked to gaze out at the wintry morning.
Ben loved it here.
He’d been planning on arriving next week for the yearly festivities as it was. And he would, of course, stay on now given that his own seat in Sunderland was so far from Essex where his aunt resided.
The extra week didn’t particularly bother him. Though he was curious as to why whatever this was couldn’t have waited a mere seven days.
A movement outside the window of the morning room in which he stood awaiting his aunt’s arrival caught Ben’s eye, and he moved to peer out into the gardens.
It was freezing outside, with frost still clinging valiantly to the grass and bare branches of the deciduous trees.
Ben immediately located the source of the movement and frowned.
His cousin Beatrice was walking briskly through the flowerbeds stripped bare for the winter, and beside her,
Lady Natalia Soronsky.
Ben’s eyes narrowed as he took in the two ladies.
Bea blended into the dull surroundings, bedecked in a thick, grey winter coat and black bonnet.
His cousin had never been the type to draw attention to herself if she could help it.
Lady Natalia, however…she was another matter entirely.
The chit couldn’t blend in if she tried.
Not only was she Russian nobility, and therefore somewhat exotic amongst the English roses of the ton, but her beauty was very nearly intimidating.
Tall for a lady, she still only reached Ben’s chin. Not exactly willowy but certainly seeming that way beside his shorter, plumper cousin.
Her hair was the darkest black, almost blue when the sun hit it. He’d never seen anything like it.
And her eyes – they were like chips of glacial ice.
She looked like a Nordic Goddess, coolly beautiful and untouchable.
But even as he watched, she looked at something Beatrice pointed out and burst into a fit of giggles that he could hear even from behind the closed window.
There was nothing cold about her laugh.
And there was nothing cold about Ben’s surprising and unwanted reaction to seeing her smile.
However, he comforted himself with the knowledge that of every young miss he’d ever met, Lady Natalia Soronsky was by far the most annoying. So, whilst he could acknowledge how beautiful she was, it didn’t mean he liked her. Quite the opposite, in fact.
She used to come back here on breaks from finishing school, spending long summer days following him and demanding to be allowed to join in with whatever it was he was doing.
She and Bea had been joined at the hip from the first and completely inseparable.
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