Be calm, she thought. Be gracious. Be twenty-two.
Lady Olivia Fanton is eager to prove she’s no longer a child. However, just as she thinks she’s found a suitable match in suave Mr. Manning, charismatic Captain Jem Ford walks back into her life, bringing with him all the embarrassment of her infatuation four years before!
She’s determined to appear mature, distant, friendly. But dare she hope he’ll notice her as the lady she’s become?
The Chadcombe Marriages miniseries
Book 1—Waltzing with the Earl
Book 2—The Captain’s Disgraced Lady
Book 3—The Makings of a Lady
“I love this book and that I cannot recommend this enough, this is a must read... Outstanding!”
—RT Book Reviews on The Captain’s Disgraced Lady
“Cannot express how highly I can recommend this book...a must read.”
—Goodreads on The Captain’s Disgraced Lady
Quite before he knew what he was doing, and certainly without conscious thought, Jem stopped right there in the middle of the rose garden, drew Olivia into his arms, and kissed her thoroughly and passionately.
Lost to all reason, he kissed, and kissed, and kissed her again. When he came around, as if from a dream, he found that they had moved to sit on a curved stone bench and that Olivia was cradled on his lap. Her hands were on his back, pressing him closer, and her mouth sought his as if she were dying from the same hunger that afflicted him. Heart pounding, he returned her kiss, losing all reason again as he succumbed to the miracle that was unfolding between them.
Eventually, they paused to look at each other and smile, then kiss again, this time softly, gently, tentatively.
“Olivia!” he murmured against her mouth, feeling her smile in response.
“Jem,” she returned softly. “You are kissing me.”
“Yes, I am. Is that a difficulty for you?”
“Not at all! In fact, it is an exceedingly pleasant experience.”
“For me, too. Shall we, then, do it again?”
For answer, she took his face in both hands, swooping on his mouth with a confidence and enthusiasm that both exhilarated and thrilled him.
Author Note
This is the final book in my series The Chadcombe Marriages. While the books are stand-alone, this story takes place after Waltzing with the Earl and The Captain’s Disgraced Lady. Lady Olivia is the younger sister of Adam and Harry.
My own children are now grown up, and my husband and I have loved watching them grow from wonderful* children to remarkable* young adults. It got me wondering how that journey might have gone for Olivia. I do hope you enjoy it.
I’ve included a childbirth scene in The Makings of a Lady. In Regency times, death in childbirth was not uncommon, with infection, fits and bleeding the most common causes. The discovery of ergot was a breakthrough in preventing some of these women from dying. Now, as then, good midwives and the skilled doctors who work with them understand the importance of supporting the woman so that her body can do its amazing work, and they also know to step in if needed. Doing too much too soon can cause harm, as can doing too little, too late. As we continue to learn more about childbirth, we hope that the numbers of women dying worldwide will continue to fall.
My next series will feature a trio of governesses—all occupying that unusual role in a Regency household. Governesses were not part of the family, but were not quite servants, either. How will my three heroines respond to the challenges that come their way?
*absolutely no bias whatsoever
THE MAKINGS OF A LADY
Catherine Tinley
www.millsandboon.com.au
CATHERINE TINLEY has loved reading and writing since childhood, and has a particular fondness for love, romance and happy endings. She lives in Ireland with her husband, children, dog and kitten, and can be reached at catherinetinley.com, as well as through Facebook and on Twitter, @catherinetinley.
For all my McCoy, Talbot, Sloan, Ferris, Tinnelly and Hemingway relatives—it’s a privilege to be part of this big, warm, supportive, close family. Love you all.
And for all midwives—co-mothers, wise women, mothers of light. You who protect the gateway to life hold two lives in your hands, and stand or sit or kneel With Women. We mothers salute you.
Contents
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
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Excerpt from Snowbound in Big Springs by Lauri Robinson
Prologue
London—September 1815
‘Will you marry me?’
Olivia said the words aloud, thrilled by the way they flowed. She tried it a different way. ‘Lady Olivia, will you marry me?’
Oh, that sounds wonderful! She grinned at herself in the bedroom mirror, glad no one was present to witness her giddy foolishness.
Perhaps he would kiss her instead. She dearly hoped so. Thoughts of kissing him had been uppermost in her mind for many weeks. Her heart skipped as she imagined the sensation of his strong, handsome face approaching hers, his lips on her lips, his arms wrapped around her. She closed her eyes, savouring the image. Oh, how wonderful it would be! Could it happen? Perhaps all this time he had been developing warm feelings for her, too. He might say ‘Lady Olivia, I love you. Ardently, truly, deeply. Will you marry me?’
And she would reply Yes. Of course she would. She wanted nothing more than to be his wife. Now, should she offer a shy yes, or an enthusiastic one, or perhaps a coquettish one?
Honestly, at this point, she cared not. The important thing was that she adored him and he had said it was important that he speak with her. He had said so, in that solemn way of his, and so she had agreed to meet him in the garden after nuncheon.
Quite when she had fallen in love with Jem Ford, she was not certain. Was it the first time she had seen his crooked smile, the day they had met? He had been carried into the Fanton townhouse by two of the footmen, the leg injury he had sustained at Waterloo still healing. Having made the long and tiring journey from France, he had then faced the entire Fanton family who were waiting to greet him, including the Earl of Shalford, Olivia’s eldest brother—an ordeal for any stranger. But how much harder must it have been for him? Olivia reflected. Unable to walk, exhausted and clearly feeling uncomfortable about the number of people waiting to receive him, he had nevertheless behaved impeccably. He had thanked his commanding officer, Olivia’s other brother Harry, for the invitation, but insisted he would remove to a hotel on the morrow.
Harry, of course, was having none of it. ‘Having resigned from the Army, I am your Captain no longer,’ he had said, ‘and so I cannot command you. But I do hope you will stay with us until you are recovered.’ They had agreed to discuss the matter later, but even then—having known him for all of two minutes—Olivia had been conscious of a strong wish within herself for
him to stay.
She had looked at him closely, noting the dust of travel on his clothes and the lines of pain and tiredness etched on his face, yet her thought had been, ‘My! How handsome he is!’ Surely the beginnings of love had sprung into life in that moment? Like a trickle of water on a hillside in spring, it had begun almost silently. But, during the months of his convalescence, as she had spent more and more time with him, the trickle had grown slowly and steadily, until now a flood of love for him consumed her. He was her first thought in the morning and her last at night. She lived for the times they spent together, especially the precious moments when they were occasionally alone.
He had been ever the gentleman, but she hoped he might love her the way she loved him. She had sometimes sensed something from the expression in his eyes. There was also, she reminded herself, the fact that he sought her out and seemed genuinely interested in all of her thoughts and feelings. There was hope!
And now, he wished to speak to her. Alone.
Heart pounding, she made her way downstairs, through the townhouse and out to the garden beyond. And there he was! Seated on the usual bench, waiting for her. No stick today, she noticed automatically. It had been over a week since he had used the stick to aid with his walking. His crutches had been dispensed with over three weeks ago and it was wonderful to see him healed further.
She smiled instinctively, gladness sweeping through her just on seeing him. Her eyes swept over him, noting the polished boots, the well-tailored breeches clinging to his muscular thighs, the smart military coat that suited him so well. How handsome he looked in his uniform! This was only the second time she had seen him fully attired in his dashing regimentals. She strongly approved.
Her eyes scanned upwards to his beloved face. No smile. He looked serious, grave, solemn. Of course he did! This was an important moment.
They exchanged greetings and he invited her to sit next to him. She did so, all the while her mind racing in anticipation of what he would do and say next.
‘Lady Olivia,’ he began, his deep blue eyes trapping hers. ‘I wanted to see you as there is something important I must say to you.’
She nodded. She was not normally tongue-tied, but the enormity of the moment had taken from her the power of speech.
‘I am lately returned from Horse Guards Parade. As you know, I was also there two days ago, to report my leg is now fully healed.’ Olivia frowned—this was unexpected. ‘I returned today, to some surprising news.’ He paused, seemed to gather himself, then resumed. ‘I am to be posted to Australia.’
‘Australia?’ What on earth was he talking about? He couldn’t possibly be going to Australia! ‘For how long?’
‘For at least two years.’ He looked pale, she noticed absently, even as she felt the blood draining from her own face.
‘Two years?’ She echoed him mechanically, barely able to take it in.
‘At least. In reality I am likely to be gone for longer. I am transferring to the Forty-Eighth and am promoted to Lieutenant.’
‘Lieutenant?’ She swallowed. ‘But that is wonderful news! And well deserved. But—must it be Australia?’
He nodded grimly. ‘You know my situation. Although there is no shame in my lineage, my father died penniless. Thankfully he had paid for my army commission before his gambling debts overwhelmed him, and my sister Lizzie has a small income from our mother’s family. But—’ his eyes blazed into hers ‘—I have no choice. This is a chance to make something of myself. Today, I am nothing. I am no one. A young ensign, half-crippled, with no fortune, no position in society, nothing. I am truly grateful to your family for offering me a home here these past months, but it has only served to underline my determination to improve my station.’
‘But, no!’ she protested. ‘That does not matter! Money and station are not what is truly important!’ Her eyes were filling with tears as shock turned to a dawning realisation. He was leaving her. ‘You cannot leave—us!’ Almost, she had said ‘me’. They both knew it.
He stood. ‘I am truly sorry. I have allowed a...friendship to develop between us, even though I knew this parting must come. I had no intention of causing you hurt, Lady Olivia.’
She could not speak. Her heart was breaking. She looked up at him in mute appeal. His jaw hardened. He bowed, wished her farewell and was gone.
Chapter One
Surrey—May 1819
‘Why must Adam be always telling me what to do? Life is so dreary here at Chadcombe!’ Olivia sat down heavily on an ornate French chair, uncaring that the mud along the hem of her petticoat was transferring itself to a gilded wooden leg. ‘Everyone thinks I am still ten years old!’
Great-Aunt Clara set down her knitting. ‘Oh, dear, Olivia—I did not know you were so unhappy here with us!’ Her lined face was filled with distress. ‘But, yes, how tedious you must find us all!’
With a startled expression, Olivia jumped up and moved to sit beside the elderly lady. ‘Oh, no! Darling Great-Aunt Clara, I did not mean you are dreary!’ She took her great-aunt’s hand. ‘You know I love you dearly, and I love Adam and Charlotte, but I have spent most of my life here at Chadcombe and sometimes I just feel—oh, I don’t know! You will think me foolish!’
‘Who is being foolish?’ Charlotte, Olivia’s sister-in-law, entered the morning room. ‘Olivia? But you could never be foolish!’ Charlotte leaned over and kissed Olivia’s cheek. ‘Good morning!’ she added cheerily.
Charlotte’s elegant morning gown, Olivia noted, had no trace of mud anywhere on its green-silk folds. Its gently draped skirts revealed that Charlotte was expecting a child. She had suffered in the early months with tiredness and the indignity of being frequently sick. Yesterday she had declared she was much better. Olivia was not convinced.
‘Charlotte! You are up already—how did you sleep?’
‘Perfectly well, thank you!’ Charlotte brushed off Olivia’s concerns with a wave of her hand. ‘Now, what is this about you being foolish?’
Olivia struggled to answer. Suddenly her frustrations seemed churlish. She knew she had what others would view as a perfect life, in a beautiful house, with a loving family. It was just—she felt as though she needed to escape. She needed adventure!
‘Our poor Olivia finds it dull to be always at Chadcombe,’ offered Great-Aunt Clara tentatively.
Charlotte eyed her keenly. ‘Are you moped, love? Remember, Miss Ford and her brother will arrive tomorrow for their visit. You have been looking forward to that, have you not?’
Olivia sighed in frustration. ‘I am always happy to see Lizzie, and it will be good to meet—’ she choked a little on his name ‘—Jem again. I cannot say why I am feeling so unsettled. It’s just—I feel as though everyone still believes me to be a child!’
‘Poor, dear Olivia!’ Great-Aunt Clara’s knitting slipped to the floor. Olivia retrieved it for her and the old lady patted her hand kindly. ‘I can quite understand how it must be frustrating. After all, you must be nearly twenty now.’
‘I had my twenty-second birthday last December, Great Aunt-Clara. Don’t you remember?’
‘Twenty-two? Really?’ Great-Aunt Clara looked astonished. ‘Well, bless me! I do think of you as properly belonging in the schoolroom! I am so sorry! But, yes, I remember you had your Season in London last year, or was it the year before?’
Olivia exchanged a brief glance with Charlotte. ‘I made my debut four years ago, if you remember.’ She spoke gently, hoping her elderly relative would recollect. ‘After Charlotte and Adam were married? It was the time Juliana came to stay with us—and she and Harry got married soon afterwards.’
‘Of course! Was that really four years ago? Yes, I suppose it must be—because we got the new oven and Charlotte was such a help... And then that dreadful Napoleon and the battle... I was never so relieved as to see Harry home safe after Waterloo, and married, and now he and dear Juliana live so
close by with their dear little son—it all worked out so well...’ Great-Aunt Clara almost lost herself in a tangle of recollections. ‘So, yes,’ she concluded firmly, ‘it was three years ago. Or possibly four. So how old are you again, Olivia?’
‘I am two-and-twenty,’ said Olivia patiently.
‘Twenty-two? Twenty-two already!’ Great-Aunt Clara became animated. ‘Lord, I remember you when you were so little and your dear mama would sit here, in this very room, cuddling you...’
If Clara had wanted to divert Olivia, she was successful, at least temporarily. Olivia could never resist hearing tales of Mama, who had died giving birth to Olivia’s baby sister when Olivia was a child. No one would tell her what had happened that day and bewildered eight-year-old Olivia had just wished to know when Mama would be returning. Now that she was old enough to ask for the truth, she had never found the courage. To this day, Olivia felt the aching hole in her life caused by her mother’s death and had never fully come to terms with the sense of abandonment she had experienced.
And then, when she was eighteen, she had been abandoned again by someone else she had loved.
Quickly, she diverted her thoughts from that old wound. The past was done, finished, gone. She was a different person now—older, wiser, less naive.
After Mama’s death, she had been raised by her grieving father alongside Olivia’s two big brothers and Great-Aunt Clara, but it was never the same. So now, she plied Clara with prompts and questions, and her great-aunt dutifully obliged, retelling stories Olivia had heard a hundred times before. Olivia had many clear memories of Papa, who had died only a few years ago, but she tried hard to keep alive her hazy memories of her mother.
Today, though, after a time, the old stories did not satisfy Olivia. She could not settle to any task, and eventually Charlotte sent her away. ‘Olivia, do please go for a walk, or take Dahlia out and ride! I declare your fidgeting is making me nervous. I have restarted this list for Cook three times!’ Charlotte was smiling, but she looked a little concerned.
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