Forever Be Mine: Love in London- Book 4

by Lauren Smith

  FOREVER BE MINE

  Love in London- Book 4

  LAUREN SMITH

  CONTENTS

  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

  Epilogue

  Forbidden

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Other Titles By Lauren Smith

  About the Author

  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.

  Copyright © 2019 by Lauren Smith

  Cover design by Cover Couture

  Photography by Lindee Robinson

  Lauren Smith supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact Lauren@Laurensmithbooks.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  * * *

  The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.

  ISBN: 978-1-947206-55-7 (ebook)

  ISBN: 978-1-947206-56-4 (Trade paperback)

  For anyone who’s dared to risk it all for love. This story is for you.

  1

  The last thing in the world Celia Lynton wanted to do was attend a garden party at her uncle’s English estate, but it was a matter of life or death. At least, it felt like it was. If she’d had her way, she would have been catching a late matinee at the nearest theater or tucked away in the corner of a cozy coffee shop reading a book.

  Instead, she was living out some Jane Austen fantasy, minus the historical clothes, of course. It was 2019 after all, but bloody hell, all those men and women wandering around tea tables, gossiping about one another and the state of England—it was definitely not how she wanted to spend her day.

  Her uncle, the Earl of Pembroke, was a powerful player in the English political climate, especially in the House of Lords. Being at this party was crucial for her family. Just a few months ago, her father had lost their entire fortune in a poor investment. Recently, they’d moved into a tiny cottage on her uncle’s estate, and the life she and her younger brother, Matthew, had been accustomed to had vanished overnight. This party offered her a chance to help her family, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

  She’d managed to escape the party for a few minutes and now lingered in the doorway to one of the many guest rooms at her uncle’s country manor house. She watched her brother scribble away in a notebook, muttering softly to himself.

  She was here for him and she was about to sacrifice everything for him. She loved Matthew, and as his older sister, it was her duty to look out for him. He was only fifteen, but he was a genius when it came to science and mathematics. However, he had problems. For the longest time they’d struggled to understand why he was doing so poorly in other subjects and why he had trouble socializing with others. They’d recently learned that he was on the autism spectrum—high functioning, and he aslo suffered from dyslexia and other issues.

  “Matthew, are you coming down to the party?” she asked quietly.

  Her brother shook his head. His gold hair glowing in the afternoon sunlight as it poured through the tall bay windows, making him look so young. But he was fifteen, a young man, no longer a child. Matthew sat at an antique desk, several textbooks spread out before him, completely lost in a world of numbers and equations. A small smile graced Celia’s lips, but her heart ached. He was the reason she was about to do something that would change her life forever. Something she would forever keep a secret from him because she never wanted him to feel guilty.

  Somewhere in the midst of the party was a handsome twenty-seven year old Scottish man named Callum Radcliffe. She’d met him a decade ago at one of these garden parties, and they’d formed a deep friendship. Today, he would propose to her. And even though she didn’t love him, even though she burned for another, she would say yes.

  Matthew had been removed from Eton College when he’d gotten into a fight with a few of the boys there who’d been bullying him because of his autism and dyslexia. The fight had been bad enough but one of the boys Matthew had quarreled with was the son of an influential viscount who was a generous donor to Eton. Matthew therefore was asked to leave. The real problem was that what Matthew needed, a school which focused heavily on math and science, her family could no longer afford. While the National Health Service in England paid for medical care and students could attend free state schools, Matthew had been accepted to a special academy that had a steep tuition not covered by the National Health Service.

  Ravenswood Academy was a school which specialized in math and science fields and they offered even better specialists to help with Matthew’s issues than Eton did. It was just the sort of place which could offer Matthew the type of education which would get him into Cambridge and connected with the right people who valued his special abilities in math and science. They had offered Matthew a spot starting in just two months, but her parents could no longer afford the tuition.

  Celia had hoped her new position in London at Morton & Ridings Architecture would have provided enough to pay for Matthew’s schooling, but she was a new hire with a entry-level salary. In fact, she was convinced she’d only been hired because of her social connections with no consideration towards her talent as an architect.

  Much had changed so quickly. Between losing their family home and worrying about how to pay for Ravenswood, their world had been completely altered, and not even her uncle, who had given them the run of the tiny three-bedroom cottage on his estate, could be confided in for this particular problem.

  Uncle Edward had stepped in and paid off the massive debts her father had accumulated and saved them from facing lawsuits and creditors. But his generosity could only stretch so far. Neither Celia nor her parents wanted to ask him to pay for Matthew’s tuition. Besides her parents were too busy keeping up appearances and trying to see if their social connections might pay off in some way. But it seemed the only way Celia could help was by marrying Callum. As the next in line to an earldom, he needed to marry well and have at least one son.

  Celia cringed at the thought of what she and Callum had secretly agreed to. A marriage of convenience. It was still commonplace in parts of Britain’s upper society, but she’d never expected to be involved in such an arrangement. Callum was sweet, good looking, and ready to help fund Matthew’s schooling. Although they were good friends, he didn’t love her and could never love her, not in that way. His partner, Bryson Verne, was still a secret he kept from his parents, but one he’d have to give up. Even though the queen’s cousin had recently married his partner, Callum feared his parents wouldn’t accept him for who he truly was.

  He loved his parents, loved his home, and he knew his duty. If he didn’t produce an heir, the estate would someday pass on to a distant cousin he barely knew. So a month ago he and Celia had come up with a plan. They would get married. Matthew’s education would be assured, and Callum could do right by his family and position. All Celia had to do was produc
e an heir…

  She cleared her throat, ignoring the uncomfortable tightness that threatened to choke her. “Matthew?”

  “Hmm?” Her little brother didn’t bother looking up from his studies. He didn’t hear the laughter and music coming through the windows. Or if he did, he didn’t care.

  “The party,” she reminded him gently. “Try to come for at least a few minutes. Tristan and Carter would love to see you.”

  “It’s very loud. I don’t like it.”

  “You can go to the garden. It’s quieter there.”

  “Okay…” Matthew’s distracted reply told her that he would forget about the party as soon as Celia left the room. With a sigh, she left him to his world of numbers and went to rejoin the party. She paused halfway down the stairs, looking out of the tall window that faced the gardens beyond. Her heart stopped.

  Strolling at the edge of the crowd was a tall blond-haired man wearing a navy-blue suit that clung to him like a second skin. His leonine grace and exquisite masculine features drew the eye of every woman in sight. Heads actually turned as he walked toward Uncle Edward’s house and then stopped at the end of the crowd, keeping himself slightly distant from the other guests.

  Carter Martin.

  Her heart skipped a painful beat. She pressed a hand to the glass, feeling the sun warm her palm as her soul shook deep inside her. Carter was the man she’d always imagined being with before she fell asleep every night. His arms wrapped around her, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered good night before she slipped into the most perfect dreams. She’d known him for as long as she could remember, but he was the son of her uncle’s steward for the Pembroke estate and worked as a junior steward. That made things impossible.

  Her uncle would forbid the two of them becoming involved, and her parents certainly wouldn’t allow it. And if they had chosen to sneak around, he could have lost his job, possibly his father as well, their chances of employment damaged forever. She could only imagine things ending badly for Carter, and the last thing she wanted to do was hurt him.

  There were bloody stupid, archaic, backward prejudices at play, but that didn’t change the fact that she couldn’t spend the rest of her life with him. Certainly not now, when her life was crumbling around her. Desperate as it was, Callum was the only way she could protect her brother, which meant she’d never know what it meant to be loved by Carter, never be the woman who won his wicked smiles or felt his body cover hers in a dark bedroom as passion burned hot and fiery between them.

  “Celia?” Callum’s voice drifted up from the bottom of the stairs.

  She dropped her hand from the window, turning away from the man she would always long for, and faced the man who was her future.

  “Everything all right with Matthew?” he asked as she joined him at the bottom of the stairs.

  She nodded. “He’s deep in his textbooks.”

  “As usual,” Callum replied with a gentle chuckle. Then he glanced around before he leaned into her. “Your parents are waiting in the drawing room. I thought I could propose to you there—make it official, if you like.” He offered her his arm, and she accepted it, her heart pounding with nerves as she nodded.

  Callum seemed to notice her pain and paused. “You don’t have to do this, you know. I could find someone else to…” He blushed.

  “No, it’s okay. This is best for everyone. You’re a good friend, and that’s important in a marriage. We’ll be happy.”

  His eyes filled with an echoing sorrow. “Content, perhaps. We both know what we’re giving up.”

  He understood what it was like to sacrifice. He would never be able to marry for love either, and Bryson knew that it would soon be over between them. No matter how normal it might be among the aristocracy to have affairs, she and Callum both agreed that marriage as an institution had to be respected, even more so once a child became involved. They were sacrificing so much. Surely they both needed time to—

  Carter’s face flashed across her mind. A sudden idea burst inside her, brilliant and full of hope, like fireworks. Would it work? Would Callum agree?

  “Callum…if we do this, I need a month to…” She struggled for composure as a rush of painful emotions tightened her chest before she continued. “I would like a month to myself first. I would like to leave England, to have some time with someone I care about before we make an official announcement—outside of our parents, I mean.”

  He nodded slowly. “I was thinking the same. Bryson and I would appreciate the time with each other as well. He understands my situation, but…we need time.”

  Celia exhaled a shaky breath, relieved that Callum felt the same. They both needed one last taste of what it felt like to be loved before they did what duty required of them.

  They reached the tearoom, and Callum ushered her inside. A connecting door led to the drawing room, where her parents were waiting to eavesdrop. Callum faced her, taking her hands in his.

  “Ready?” he whispered.

  She gave a shaky nod. Callum eased down onto one knee.

  Let the show begin.

  “Celia Lynton, for ten years we have been close friends, and in that time we’ve only grown closer. I cannot picture a day in my life without you by my side. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  Celia’s heart leapt into her throat. All she could think was that she was twenty-five, yet it felt like her life was already ending.

  “Celia?” Callum Radcliffe stared up at her with those dark-brown eyes any person in their right mind would swoon over.

  But he wasn’t the man she dreamed about at night. He wasn’t the man she’d fantasized would be on one knee during what should have been the most perfect moment of her life. He wasn’t Carter Martin.

  “I…yes.” She almost faltered on the word she’d promised she would say. Suddenly things spun around her as the doors to the tearoom burst open and her parents, Bernadette and Hensley Lynton, rushed in.

  “Oh, congratulations!” her mother cooed and gave her a light hug that lacked any real warmth. Her father smiled proudly and offered a hand to Callum so he could pull him in and slap him on the back.

  “So glad to see you two finally settling things,” Hensley announced.

  Celia looked between Callum and her parents, still uncertain. He was a good man, she knew that, and he would make a fine husband, at least as a companion. But they both loved other people.

  This is what is expected of me. But I had dreams.

  “She’s overwhelmed with happiness, aren’t you, dear?” Her mother gave her a hard nudge in the ribs.

  The reality of the moment began to sink in. She’d been looking forward to her work in London at the architecture firm, but now she would have to add social duties to her life as a future countess in Scotland. And she always had Matthew to consider, since she couldn’t trust her parents to put the needs of their youngest child above their own.

  “Perhaps it’s just nerves?” Callum suggested, his eyes dark with concern. But he understood what she was feeling, that sense of hope fading like a dying star, burning out far away in endless space. They were both giving up their hopes of being with the person they loved in order to help their families.

  “Yes, she’s nervous,” her mother cut in. “But she’s thrilled, of course!”

  Celia stared mutely at her mother, then at Callum. How was it that her life was going on without her in it? It was like she was trapped in a nightmare where she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.

  Callum grinned in pretend relief and clasped her hands in his and leaned down to brush his lips over hers. They were soft and warm, but there was no wild spark, no passion to excite her. He tried to kiss her a second longer, to make it look convincing, but when she didn’t respond he gently pulled back.

  “I suppose we should get back to the party. Everyone will be missing us,” Callum said to her parents. “I should like to request that our engagement be kept a secret for a time. I believe a month before we announce it publicly w
ould be in order.”

  Her father was still smiling broadly. “Of course, of course.”

  Celia’s throat tightened as she forced a bright smile back on her face. Callum and her father left the room, but she was rooted to the floor on a one-hundred-year-old oriental carpet. She knew it was 2019, so why did she feel like a woman trapped in the eighteenth century?

  “Celia,” her mother hissed. “You will not mess this up for your father and me, do you understand? Callum will someday be the Earl of Cavanagh. You’ll be a countess. It’s more than your father and I could ever dream of. Our family needs this, not to mention poor Matthew.”

  It seemed, despite most of England joining the world in the twenty-first century, some things hadn’t really changed in the last thousand years. Men still held fancy titles and still needed heirs to continue their lines. Which ultimately made women like her a commodity.

  “Yes, Mother. I understand.” Celia repeated the words that were to become the nails in her invisible coffin. It was so easy for the rest of the world to do whatever they liked, marry and fall in love with whomever they chose.

  “Mum, I’d like to go to Italy and see Aunt Holly before we make the engagement public.” Holly was one of the few members of Celia’s family whom she actually liked. It was a small and exclusive group comprised of her brother, her cousin Tristan, and Holly.