The Promise
Page 1
Copyright © 2011 VJ Dunraven
Below ISBN Refers to Print Edition
ISBN-13: 978-1479183630
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Printed in the United States of America
First Printing, 2011
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements
Dedication
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
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Epilogue
The Promise is a work of fiction. The characters and their names, including the venues used are fictional, except for some well-known localities and landmarks in the time period it was written. Historical references, though used with descriptive accuracy and in correct chronological order, were manipulated to accommodate the events in the story. Some euphemisms were utilized intentionally ahead of their etymology, morphology and glottochronology in historical linguistics to fit the characters’ personalities.
Lastly, this author has chosen to forego conformity to customary regency standards of decorum in favor of presenting strong, unconventional and memorable characters close to her heart.
VJ Dunraven
Acknowledgements
I would like to express my sincerest gratitude to my assistant, Carmela Guerrero, my lead editor, Jennifer Magnani, fellow writers, Anita Misra and Marie Higgins, for their support and help in editing this book.
To my wonderful readers on Wattpad, thank you for all the encouragement, friendship and laughter we shared.
To John P.—thanks for everything.
Dedication
For Oliver, my wonderful, dashing, devastatingly handsome childhood friend, who was every girl’s dream and the light of my life. You are always in my heart, though I still hold a grudge for you leaving me so soon—without saying goodbye. If I could, I wish to God I could reverse the hands of time and bring back yesterday.
May the angels in heaven keep you safe under their wings and provide you constant company—until we meet again.
I miss you.
Your “little brat,”
VJ Dunraven
Chapter 1
Miss Cassandra Carlyle’s Wedding
Fall, 1807
Cornwall, England
“I’ll tell Papa you’re being mean to me!” eight-year-old Cassandra Carlyle shrieked in the elegant drawing room of Rose Hill Manor. A stately cream-colored structure originally built in the past century, it served as the countryseat to generations of Viscounts in the Carlyle family.
The heir, Cassandra’s older brother Allayne, exchanged worried glances with his best friends, Richard and Jeremy. The three young men, all fifteen years of age, grew up together in neighboring estates.
“Papaaa!” Cassandra wailed louder.
Allayne peered out the window facing the side yard adorned with a flower box full of roses on the sill, before hastily shutting the windowpane.
Cassandra knew he wanted to ensure the ruckus would not reach the ears of their father, Viscount Rose, who was strolling about the garden conversing with the Duke of Grandstone.
“Whatever is the matter with you?” Allayne turned to her with a glower. “You knew we are leaving for Oxford today!”
Cassandra pursed her trembling lips and crossed her arms defiantly on her chest. “You and Jeremy can go, but I want Richard to stay!”
“All three of us have to go to the University,” Allayne said in an exasperated tone. “We can’t stay here forever. That’s just the way it is.”
“But I want to marry Richard when I grow up!” Cassandra exclaimed tearfully, her new large front teeth peeking halfway through her gums. “If you go, I’ll never see him again!”
Allayne glanced sideways at his friends and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. “Don’t be ridiculous!”
“I’ll tell Papa you broke Mama’s lamp!” She pointed at the elaborate light fixture awkwardly tilted on one side. “And you’re hiding all those pamphlets with naughty drawings under your bed!”
Allayne gaped at her. “Who told you that?” he thrust a forefinger at his sister’s nose.
She clamped her mouth shut, but her eyes darted to the dark-haired young man standing next to him.
Allayne muttered a curse and glared at Jeremy, currently the Earl of Calverston and heir to the Marquisate of Waterford, the estate of which bordered Rose Hill to the left.
Jeremy raised his shoulders and blinked his dark eyes innocently at Allayne.
Richard, the future duke and heir to Grandstone Park, the largest property in Cornwall running alongside Rose Hill to the right, placed a soothing hand on Cassandra’s shoulder. “Cassie, come now. Don’t be so cross. I’ll be back during the holidays and who knows, I might even be able to visit you in a fortnight.”
“I don’t believe you!” Cassandra’s lower lip jutted outwards and her brows snapped together. “You’ll go there and meet some girl with a round bum and large titties, and then you’ll forget all about me!”
Jeremy threw his head back and burst into a guffaw.
”Good Lord, Cassandra!” Richard stared at her in shock. “Where in Hades did you learn to speak like that?”
“Jeremy taught me,” she declared with a tilt of her chin. “He said you like girls with big bottoms and fat melons.” She splayed her hands with the palm side facing a foot away from her chest to demonstrate the exact size.
Richard paled visibly.
“The hell he did!” Allayne pinned reproachful green eyes at Jeremy, who abruptly stopped laughing and feigned a saintly expression.
“I’ll tell Papa you said a bad word!” Cassandra’s face crumpled. “Papaaa!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.
Allayne hastily pressed his hand firmly over her mouth and held her tight. “Stop this—now!” he hissed in her ear. “If you don’t, I’l
l chain your hands and stuff your mouth with filthy rags—then lock you up in the attic! Do you understand me?”
Cassandra nodded vigorously, her curly red pigtails bouncing, looking utterly petrified.
Satisfied that he’d spooked his sister soundly enough, Allayne eased his palm off her mouth and released her. Cassandra took the chance to escape and instantly bolted, elbowing her way past him and Richard.
“Damn it!” Allayne tried to grab her skirt but missed.
“Papaa!” she heaved a high-pitched squeal as she dashed across the room.
“Come back here, you little—” Allayne hit his shin on a chair and uttered an oath, hopping on one foot as he rounded the furniture.
“Papaa!” Cassandra darted under a table, crawled and emerged on the other side.
Allayne launched himself across the tabletop, plowing through his mother’s collection of small brass horses and various decorative trinkets.
“Papaaa! Help!” Cassandra raced towards the door. “Allayne is trying to kill me!”
Someone grabbed her at the waist and hauled her backwards just as she reached for the doorknob.
“Cassie!” Richard deposited her flailing and screaming onto a chair, securely holding her in place. “This behavior is not acceptable!”
“But you’re leaving me!” Fat tears slid down her chubby, bright pink, freckled cheeks. “I’ll never, ever see you again—I just know it!”
“Don’t be silly!” Richard pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiped her sodden face. “I’m going to school, not to debtor’s prison.”
“Oh, Richard, but I’ll miss you so and I’m going to die if you leave me!” she exclaimed between hiccups. “What if you marry someone else?”
Richard kneeled in front of her on the Aubusson carpet and chuckled. “Don’t be absurd, Cassie. I’m fifteen and you’re only eight. I have a long ways to go and so do you. A few more years from now, you will have young lads mooning over you and falling at your feet. You’ll remember this ludicrous infatuation and wonder what you were thinking.”
“I don’t want other lads—I want you!” Cassandra smacked her hand with a loud splat on the mahogany armrest and began to yowl again, prompting an argument between the three young men on how to keep her quiet.
A knock interrupted the hubbub and Morton, the Rose Hill butler, entered.
“Lord Sunderland, your carriage is ready,” he addressed Richard by his honorary title of Marquess of Sunderland in his usual formal manner, casting a sympathetic glance at Cassandra with a shake of his head, before bowing and retreating out the door.
“Well, we better get going.” Jeremy checked his pocket watch.
Richard made a move to stand up, but Cassandra flung herself at him, clinging with her arms about his neck and her legs around his waist.
“Cassie, you fool! Let go of him!” Allayne yelled, untangling her off Richard. She lost one shoe in the fracas and her left ponytail became undone. The collar of her yellow dress twisted shoddily askew.
“Papaaa!” Cassandra grasped Richard’s neckcloth and clung with all her might.
“Cassie! Quit pulling on my cravat!” Richard made a choking sound and peeled her fingers off, but she latched onto his thick blonde hair instead.
Allayne pulled at her wrists.
“Ow! Ow!” Richard bellowed, clutching Allayne’s arms to keep him from tugging on Cassandra’s hands. “Stop that, you oaf! You’re pulling the roots off my scalp! Ow!”
Cassandra kicked Allayne on his bruised shin. He howled and fell forward, knocking Richard, who was still on his knees, off balance. The three of them tumbled in a tangled heap of skirts and booted limbs on the carpet.
“Good God, what a pickle!” Jeremy said with a hearty laugh.
“Well, don’t just stand there, you dolt!” Allayne yelled at him over Cassandra’s screams. “Help me get her off him!”
“Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” Jeremy replied. “Cassie! Richard will marry you, if you let go.”
Cassandra immediately stopped bawling and released Richard’s hair from her grip. “Truly?” She gazed hopefully at Richard.
Allayne slapped his hand on his brow and shook his head at Jeremy. “Now you really have done it, you half-witted buffoon!”
Jeremy shrugged, merriment in his dark eyes. “I got her off him, didn’t I?”
Richard rose to his feet and combed his fingers through his disheveled locks. “I think I’ve had enough excitement for the day. Let’s get out of here before I lose my sanity.” He smoothed his coat and fixed his cravat.
“But-but-but—” Cassandra flitted her gaze from one young man to the next. Apparently, none of them were interested in proceeding with the wedding plans. She heaved an ear-splitting cry.
“Enough of this, Cassandra!” Richard shook her by the shoulders.
Cassandra stifled her sobs with a shudder, sniffling uncontrollably as she fixed large, doleful green eyes at the love of her life. “You’ll marry me, then?”
“Yes—by God!” Richard threw his hands in the air. “Anything to stop this madness!”
“Oh, Richard! I’m so happy!” Cassandra hugged him, then, gaily skipped her way to the door. “Wait here. I’ll go ask Morty to fetch the vicar.”
“What?” Richard’s deep blue eyes widened. “You mean—now?”
“That won’t be necessary.” Jeremy towed Cassandra by the arm, back to the middle of the drawing room. “I can be the vicar by proxy.”
Cassandra eyed him suspiciously. “Is that legal?”
“Absolutely!” Allayne interjected, shoving a lock of honey-blond hair off his forehead. “Quit acting like a sleuth. You read too many of those spy stories. To be sure—I’ll even be your best man and witness.”
“Shall we begin the ceremony?” Richard glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner of the drawing room as it sounded the hour with a bong. He frantically motioned for Jeremy to hurry up and proceed.
Jeremy grabbed a book and a pair of spectacles that belonged to the Viscount from the nearby desk, finishing the ensemble with Allayne’s cashmere scarf draped over his shoulders. He asked Cassandra and Richard to stand before him.
“Dearly beloved,” he began, looking up briefly from beneath the eyeglasses perched low on his nose. “Do you swear to truly serve our Sovereign and do right to all manner of people after the laws and usages of this realm, without fear or favor, affection or ill will, so help you God?” He peered back and forth at their befuddled faces, and then raised his eyebrows. “What?”
“That’s one of my books,” Cassandra frowned, pointing at the volume in his hand entitled Spy Monk.
Allayne rolled his eyes heavenward and scrubbed his palm along the length of his face.
“Reverend Jeremy, can we get on with this please?” Richard said through clenched teeth. “We’re a little pressed for time here.” He flicked another glance at the clock and gave Jeremy a speaking look.
“Right.” Jeremy threw Spy Monk over his shoulder and snatched the other book on the table Allayne was reading earlier, entitled, Sins of a Gentleman. He shuffled through the pages and cleared his throat. “Dearly beloved, by the power vested in me by the Constitution of Fornication and the Ladybirds of London, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
“Eh?” Richard’s brows shot upwards with his mouth wide open.
“Reverend Jeremy.” Cassandra raised a hand. “I have a question.”
All eyes fixed on her.
“What is it, my child?” Jeremy asked in a preacher-like tone.
“What does fornication mean?”
“Bloody hell,” Allayne mumbled under his breath.
Jeremy grinned. “Ah—my favorite word—”
“Reverend Jeremy!” Richard fairly sna
rled his name. “Can we just proceed—please?”
“Of course—let’s see—where was I?” Jeremy peered at the naked cherubs painted on the drawing room ceiling and scratched his temple. “Ah, yes.” He suddenly brightened and turned to Richard. “You may now kiss the bride!” he proclaimed, closing the book in his hand with a snap.
Richard’s jaw dropped, looking thoroughly appalled.
“Actually,” Allayne intervened quickly, “since the bride is under the age of—er—consent, a handshake would be more appropriate.”
Cassandra stared at her hand. “But I don’t even have a ring yet.” Her mouth turned down at the corners and her lower lip quivered.
“Oh—right—we forgot about the rings.” Allayne hurriedly looked about the room. “Ah, there—give me a minute.” He strode towards the broken lamp.
Allayne presented two brass rings to Jeremy a moment later. “Reverend, can you rectify the ceremony?”
“Of course, my son.” Jeremy made a great show of blessing the rings, before continuing with the matrimony in all piousness. “Miss Cassandra Carlyle, do you take Richard Christopher Radcliffe, Marquess of Sunderland, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to hold—but only if he deserved it–and to obey—though you truly don’t have to—forever and ever—but that’s too long and I won’t recommend it—Amen?
“I do.” Cassandra beamed in complete adoration at Richard.
Richard took the smaller ring from Allayne and tried it on her ring finger, but it was too wide, so he kept moving it on to the next one until it finally fit her thumb.
“Lord Sunderland,” Jeremy went on, “do you take Miss Cassandra Carlyle to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love and to hold, to indulge and to spoil, to obey everything she asks you to do, with kindness and without a grudge, forever and ever, Amen?”
Richard snorted and cocked a tawny eyebrow at him. ”Aren’t you just a little bit partial?”
“Just answer the question, my son,” Jeremy replied solemnly.
“I do!” Richard uttered in a sharp tone.