by Lucy Adams
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Lady Eliza’s Broken Heart is the novella length prologue to Lucy’s first series, London Season Matchmaker. Find out about Lady Eliza and Lord Avondale’s romance when it was in its early stages… before he broke her heart!
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The Earl She Despised
London Season Matchmaker Book Three
Lucy Adams
© Copyright 2019 by Lucy Adams - All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document by either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited, and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
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
Chapter 15
Epilogue
Want to read the prologue in its entirety?
Also by Lucy Adams
Author’s Note
About the Author
Chapter One
“You will allow this, Merry.”
Merry lifted her chin and looked her mother, Lady Whitehaven, straight in the eye. “I shall do no such thing, Mama.”
Her mother’s eyes narrowed, flashing with an ominous warning, but Merry paid it no heed. She was not about to let herself be pampered and prodded into wearing something that she considered to be one of the ugliest creations she had ever seen. Nor was she about to let the maid put her long, dark tresses into whatever unusual coiffure her mother expected. She would choose her own gown and would revert to her usual chignon, else she would not attend the ball at all.
“Why do you insist on being so stubborn?” her mother asked, throwing up her hands. “Do you not care about your future?”
Merry stiffened, her cheeks flooding with color. “I do not want to be forced into choosing a gentleman, just because you believe it to be ‘my turn’—as you so helpfully put it.” She turned away from her mother and walked to her bedchamber window, forcing herself to keep her temper. “I do not want to have this expectation thrust upon me.”
“But it is what you are expected to do!” Lady Whitehaven exclaimed, as though Merry was being more than ridiculous. “Your one aim in this life is to marry and to marry well.”
Merry shook her head, feeling that same, familiar stab of pain that she had never allowed herself to express to another living soul. Why could she not find a gentleman to care for her who would not mind in the least whether she wore the highest fashions or the drabbest gown?
“Why must I wear a particular type of gown or have my hair done in a particular fashion, Mama?” she asked softly, turning her head to look directly at her mother. “If I am to find a suitable gentleman, then surely I should be permitted to discover if there are any amongst the beau monde who would wish to call upon me just as I am?” She allowed her voice to fill with a slight challenge, seeing her mother’s eyes narrow slightly as she took in what Merry was saying.
Nothing was said for some moment, and Merry was just about to allow herself a small triumph when her mother shook her head firmly and took a few steps closer to where Merry was standing, shaking her finger in her direction.
“You will have plenty of opportunity to dress as you wish or to keep your hair in that dull bun that you insist upon having once you are wed,” Lady Whitehaven told her emphatically. “However, for the time being, one must look one’s best in order to draw the attention of one or two specific gentlemen. Therefore, you are going to wear that gown, and you will sit until I am satisfied with the set of your hair. Do you understand me?”
Merry lifted her chin, a hint of stubbornness in her gaze. This was not the first time her mother had tried to insist on such a thing, but each time, Merry had simply been able to refuse. However, now that her elder sister Eliza was wed, and her younger sister Titania engaged, it seemed that Lady Whitehaven’s efforts were redoubled. Most likely, that was because Lady Whitehaven believed that she would have more success with Merry than with her sister Catherine, who was always busy with philanthropic work. Nor could Merry imagine what her mother would say in order to encourage Dinah, Merry’s cousin, into society, given that she spent her time looking down at everyone else from her lofty height of religious self-importance. But no, Merry was not going to be as easy as her mother thought. She had no desire to change how she looked simply to garner the attention of the gentlemen who so easily passed her by.
“I shall not wear that gown this evening, Mama,” Merry said softly, hating that she was upsetting her mother, but knowing that she could not give in to this. If she did, it would mean that her mother would do everything she could to continue forcing Merry into society and, as she called it, into ‘looking her very best.’ “Nor shall I sit to have the maid spend hours upon my hair. Instead, I shall choose my own gown and will have my usual chignon, although I may allow one or two curls to sit by my temples if that would please you?”
Lady Whitehaven’s lips pressed so tightly together that, for a moment, they were white. Merry held her mother’s gaze without flinching, for this was not the first time she had needed to argue over a gown. It would take its usual course. Her mother would remain angry with her for some hours and then would simply sigh and state that Merry would be allowed to do as she wished, for there was nothing else for Lady Whitehaven to do in her attempt to convince her. Then, most likely, she would flit to Titania’s side and begin to discuss the upcoming wedding, which was to be held at the end of the Season. At least Lady Whitehaven could have the satisfaction of knowing that two of her daughters were wed and settled. Surely that would be enough for her?
“I do not know why you persist in doing such a thing as this,” Lady Whitehaven said, her voice low and her eyes filled with anger and frustration. “I cannot understand why you continually turn away my requests, and yet here you are, doing precisely that. You have no respect for me whatsoever, Merry.”
“I have a good deal of respect for you, Mama,” Merry quickly interrupted. “It is unfair, however, to ask me to behave in a manner that I do not wish to, simply because it is what you wish.”
Lady Whitehaven shook her head. “No, Merry. I have had enough of your excuses.” She looked directly back into Merry’s face, her face pale aside from two red spots in her cheeks, betraying her anger. “You shall do as you are asked, Merry. You shall wear that gown and allow the maid to do your hair. Do you understand me?”
Merry’s stomach began to tighten as she looked at her mother and saw just how fiercely determined she was. She hated having to stand her ground, hated having to go against everything her mother hoped for, but her own sense of what was right and wrong for herself had to take precedence. “I will not pretend to be someone I am not, Mama,” she replied, as calmly as she could whilst her hands slowly curled into fists. “If a gentleman does not look at me nor wish t
o court me, then that is not because I have not worn the correct gown or had my hair styled in a certain fashion.”
At this, Lady Whitehaven arched a brow, her cheeks still red with frustration. “That is what you believe, is it?”
“I do not think that any gentleman will look twice at me, Mama,” Merry replied. “In fact, I should say that it would make no difference whatsoever.”
Lady Whitehaven’s angry expression began to fade, replaced with something akin to curiosity. “What makes you say such a thing, Merry?” she asked, walking to one of the two chairs that sat opposite each other near to the fireplace and sitting down carefully. “Why do you believe that no gentleman would consider you?”
Merry bit her lip but did not immediately reply. This was the first time she had permitted herself to speak openly to her mother about what she believed of London society, and part of her did not wish to be honest. Instead, she wanted to keep such thoughts to herself but, from the look on her mother’s face, Merry could see that she would not be permitted to keep them entirely hidden. A little frustrated with her own lack of consideration, she shrugged and turned away to look out of the window. She did not want to speak of her pain; she did not want to reveal to anyone the truth of just how difficult she found it to be amongst the ton. And yet, she would have to say something.
“I am not particularly beautiful, Mama,” she replied, forcing the words to come from her mouth with both speed and force. “You need not protest that I am, for I am well aware that I do not have Titania’s sparkling charm nor Eliza’s handsome features.” She threw a glance back at her mother and saw the slightly arrested expression on Lady Whitehaven’s face. “I have a dullness to my eyes that cannot be improved. My hair is a mixture of both dark and light shades, although does not have the red sheen that Titania boasts of. Rather, it remains a less than interesting shade of brown.” Her eyes lingered on the scene outside, finding that if she focused on something below, then she would not feel the sting of her words. “My shoulders are a trifle too broad, my waist a little overly generous. It does not matter how much I attempt to walk carefully and precisely, my stride is much too long. I prefer to keep my own counsel and enjoy the silence that comes with solitude, whereas those in the beau monde believe that all young ladies should throw themselves into the noise and overwhelming delights of society. No, Mama. It does not matter whether I wear one gown or the next. It does not matter whether I have my hair dressed beautifully or if it is simply tugged back into a chignon. I shall not capture any gentleman’s attention.”
This was said with as much calmness as possible, and with as little emotion in her words as Merry could manage. She did not want to show her mother just how troubled and sorrowful she was by such a thing, for it was best to simply accept that this was how things stood and that, even if she wished to, she would not be able to change them.
“I believe you are quite wrong, Merry.”
Merry stifled a laugh, knowing that her mother would now try to persuade her that she was incorrect to believe in such a thing. “I do not think so, Mama,” she replied, turning around to see her mother. “And I will continue to speak honestly with you, since that is what you seem to seek from me.” Taking a breath, she settled her shoulders and let out a small, resigned sigh. “I do not wish to be noticed, Mama, not when I am wearing a gown I dislike and have my hair dressed in a fashion that is nothing but uncomfortable to me. If a gentleman approaches, then what am I to say? If he wished to court me, I shall have to keep up the pretense that this is the sort of young lady that I have always been, when the opposite is the case. I will not have revealed the truth of my character to him and would have to continue projecting a falseness that I truly dislike.”
Lady Whitehaven said nothing for some minutes, her eyes roving thoughtfully about the room, as though she were trying to form some sort of answer that would satisfy Merry. Eventually, however, she let out a long sigh and shook her head.
“You have never been this honest with me before now, Merry,” Lady Whitehaven began, bringing a slight flush to Merry’s cheeks. “Had you been, I would have been able to assure you that you are not at all as plain as you believe yourself to be.”
Merry, who had been passed over many times for her sisters, did not let this enter her heart. “That is kind of you to say, Mama,” she replied with a quick smile. “But I would not—”
“And I would set you a challenge, my dear,” Lady Whitehaven added, before Merry could finish speaking. “I would have you go to the ball this evening, dressed in the gown that I have chosen for you and with your hair done according to my specifications.”
This time, it was Merry who narrowed her gaze. “To what end, Mama?” she cautiously asked. “Why could you wish this for me?”
Lady Whitehaven smiled broadly, no hint in her expression of the anger that had been there before. “To prove to you that you are wrong.”
“Wrong,” Merry repeated, still looking at her mother with confusion. “You wish me to do as you ask, so that you may prove to me that gentlemen will not look me over nor disregard me, as I believe.”
Lady Whitehaven nodded as a small smile settled on her lips. It was as if she expected to be victorious in this, even though Merry was quite certain in her belief that she would not be so. The challenge in her mother’s voice had Merry’s suspicions rising. “You cannot pretend that you would not spend the evening going about the gentlemen of your acquaintance and sending them in my direction,” Merry replied, carefully, seeing her mother blush. “That would only prove your point, I know, but it would not be fair.”
“And what if I promised I would not?” Lady Whitehaven asked, spreading her hands. “Surely you can trust that I would keep my word?”
Merry shook her head, passing one hand over her forehead and wondering why she was allowing this to take hold of her mind. “And if I prove to you that gentlemen do not seek introductions nor ask to dance with me, then what will be my reward?”
Lady Whitehaven smiled, her expression growing calculating. “If you remain as you have done at every other ball, then I shall not force you to wear whatever gown I choose or the like for the rest of the Season.” Merry smiled broadly and was about to speak, when Lady Whitehaven held up one hand to silence her. She clearly had not yet finished. “However,” she continued, carefully. “If you are approached by a single gentleman who makes it plain that he is eager to further an acquaintance with you – that is, either he had sought out someone to introduce you to him, or he has asked you to dance – then you shall grant me the opportunity to ensure that you are well turned out for each and every society event we attend.”
“You mean that I shall have to give up my determination to dress as I please,” Merry replied, feeling a twist of anxiety in her heart. “I shall have to do as you ask and wear the gowns you choose and sit for a good hour as the maid dresses my hair.”
Lady Whitehaven smiled but lifted one eyebrow. “Yes, that is it precisely.” Her smile remained fixed as silence grew between them, her challenge hanging in the air over Merry’s head.
Merry did not know what to say nor how to respond. She looked at her mother and saw the gleam of triumph in her eye. Irritated with how her mother believed herself to be the victor of the situation already, Merry found her stubbornness rising up within her, ready to accept the challenge presented in spite of the warning in her mind not to accept.
“Very well, Mama,” she found herself saying, seeing the way that her mother’s delight grew almost at once. “I shall do as you ask, but I must have your word that neither you nor Titania, nor any of your friends and acquaintances will involve themselves in this situation.” She held her mother’s gaze steadily and saw the slight flush come to Lady Whitehaven’s cheeks. Had she secretly been expecting to use one of her friends in order to push a gentleman to Merry’s side?
“You have my word,” Lady Whitehaven replied easily, although the way her eyes darted away from Merry suggested that there was slight feeling of guilt i
n her heart.
“If the situation arises that a gentleman does approach me, Mama,” Merry continued, “then I shall make quite certain that you have had no hand in it. If it comes to light that you have done as you promised you would not, then I shall immediately be considered the victor. Is that fair, would you say?”
Lady Whitehaven laughed softly. “And you would then have to say the very same for yourself, would you not, Merry?”
Merry did not flinch. “Indeed, I would,” she agreed, wholeheartedly. “I shall not hide myself in the shadows nor ensure that I am well hidden from the ton.” She lifted her chin a notch, seeing the flare in her mother’s eyes. Evidently, she had not expected Merry to give such a promise. “Then, are we agreed?”
Lady Whitehaven hesitated for a moment, as if she wanted to see if there was some other chink in the agreement that might render Merry the victor, only to nod and smile in Merry’s direction. Immediately, a nervousness settled in Merry’s stomach, making her realize that despite her own certainty that such a thing would not occur, there was the slight chance that her mother might be proven right and that, if she was, there would be a good deal for Merry to handle thereafter.
But no, Merry determined, as her mother got up to ring the bell for tea, she would not allow herself to think in such a way. She was quite certain that this evening’s ball would go just as poorly as any other, especially since Titania was to be in attendance. Titania was bright and vivacious and clearly enjoyed society, and that was almost something of a relief to Merry, for it meant that she would not have any attention whatsoever thrust in her direction. No, she determined, turning back to the window and letting her gaze settle on the scene below. No, she would win this wager. Her mother would have to let her be free to dress as she pleased, and the rest of the Season might go a little more smoothly thereafter.