by Sawyer North
“Adam, dear, did you not claim that you never grovel?”
“I appear to have been mistaken about that.”
She giggled. “Then you are a very inept enemy.”
He smiled broadly. “Am I?”
“Absolutely. If I might paraphrase Aunt Hester, the first rule of effective feuding is to never fall for the enemy. You have failed miserably on that account.”
He dipped his head. “I accept your critique. However, I pledge to remain inept in that regard, so long as you promise the same.”
“I do, my love. I do. After all, I am to become an Ashford. Hating the enemy would prove self-defeating.”
He laughed “I had not thought of that. You, an Ashford.”
With those words, the finality of the decision dawned on her. She disentangled from him. “Where do we begin? How will we survive?”
He nodded grimly. Apparently, the same question lingered for him. “You still own your mill, which we might resurrect when this string of failed crops comes to an end. We have more than two hundred pounds remaining from the gold our ancestors so thoughtfully put aside. And we have Beelzebub. Mr. Barlow insisted. Given the horse’s surly nature, I wonder if we should count him as an asset or a liability?”
“A bit of both,” she said with a grin. “There are two sides to every coin. We cannot predict how a coin may fall, but we can forge a new path, regardless of the outcome.”
He nodded. “Well said, sweet Jane. Well said. I have been told by those much wiser than I that love will always find a way. We will find a way.”
“Jane!” Aunt Hester’s call pulled her away from Adam. Her aunt approached on Mr. Barlow’s arm, treading the mud much more carefully than Jane had. Thomas had wandered near as well. She blushed, wondering how much of the kissing they had witnessed. Thomas’s rubbing of the back of his neck with discomfort and Aunt Hester’s wry smile answered that question. She approached Jane.
“Well?”
Jane nodded vigorously as a smile erupted across her face. “Mr. Ashford and I are betrothed.”
Her aunt sighed. “Thank God. And might I add, a fine and appropriate end to a ridiculous feud. Now, it seems, the spring will bring two weddings.”
Mild astonishment seized Jane. “You and Mr. Barlow.”
This time, it was Aunt Hester’s turn to blush. “Yes. He asked for my hand as we strolled the field to find you.”
Jane embraced her aunt. “My heart overflows for you, Auntie. You deserve happiness more than anyone I know.”
“Thank you, dear.”
They clutched each other for a moment before separating. Meanwhile, Adam and Thomas congratulated Mr. Barlow with hearty handshakes. Adam laughed.
“As we will soon become family, Mr. Barlow, might you set aside a room for Jane and me? It seems we are nearly as poor as church mice.”
“Perhaps not,” said Thomas.
Jane turned to the old man, wondering at the pensive quality of his voice. “Mr. Chance? Why do you say so?”
“The mine, Miss Hancock. You and your betrothed still own the mining rights for that entire section of the mountain for another twenty-nine years.”
Jane frowned. “But did you not say that all the slate had been taken from the area?”
“I did.”
“Then I fail to understand.”
Thomas grinned. “It’s like this. During the past seventy years, copper mining companies came to Coniston and brought newer mining techniques, better mining techniques, all the way from Germany. They drove the shafts deeper and collected a horde of copper from beneath the old slate mines. Twenty years ago, those mines began to run dry. However…”
Realization struck Jane. “They did not mine our section!”
“Right, miss.”
“Of course!” said Adam. “A fortune in copper may still lie beneath.”
“My thoughts exactly, sir.”
Adam began to pace, thinking aloud. “We could reopen the mine. We could employ the good people of Coniston, gray hairs and all. We could carry them through the winter. They know mining. They would know exactly what to do. If only we can find investors to seed the process.”
“Leave that to me,” said Mr. Barlow. “One of the side benefits of my title as the most effective solicitor in London is that I know everyone’s tawdry little secrets. I can think of many well-connected ladies and gentlemen who might be willing to invest a reasonable sum in a mining venture, given sufficient prodding.”
“They would do that?”
Barlow laughed. “They would. Especially when they learn that I am the principle investor.”
Jane cocked her head in surprise. “Sir, you would invest in us?”
He frowned with mock umbrage. “You wound me, Miss Hancock. I can think of no finer people in whom to invest.” He glanced at Aunt Hester. “Besides, it seems I have already begun to invest in your family. How can I stop short now?”
“Thank you, Mr. Barlow.”
“Yes,” said Adam. “You are a true friend.”
Mr. Barlow tipped his hat. “Very well. Now if you will excuse us, Hester and I will quit this odious field and return to the carriage where we may begin discussing our future together.”
“I believe I’ll join you,” said Thomas. “It seems I have been given a sudden windfall and am too old to spend it. I’d like your advice on investing in, say, a copper mining venture.”
Jane watched as the three of them strolled across the sodden field. Adam recaptured her attention when he collected her cheek in his hand.
“We should begin discussing our future as well.”
She nodded, the warmth of his hand invading her cheek. “Very well. What should we talk about?”
“This.”
He drew her into his arms again and mounted an all-out invasion of her lips. Rather than resisting, she abandoned the battlements, lowered the drawbridge, and surrendered. After all, the second rule of effective feuding was that all conflicts must end before the sides are mutually destroyed. She was more than happy to ensure the thorough and permanent ending of this particular war. As it turned out, a passionate kiss proved a most effective peace treaty.
Epilogue
June 1835
Coniston
“So, that’s our story, nearly too outlandish to be believed. I can hardly conceive of the fact that twenty years have passed.”
Alfred considered the woman’s claim and nodded. “I share your conclusion, Mrs. Ashford. However, I wholly enjoyed the telling.”
He gazed at the couple sitting across from him in the Black Bull Inn above Coniston Water. Although past forty and showing signs of gray, both remained striking in appearance and vigorous in discourse. Though in adjacent chairs, they remained lightly tethered with the unabashed grasp of fingertips. Despite their local celebrity, the Ashfords had been generous with him, sharing a meal and stories until near evening. He offered the slightest of smiles.
“It seems your gamble paid dividends. I hear the mine saved Coniston from virtual ruin.”
Mr. Ashford dipped his head in acknowledgment. “To our everlasting gratitude. The mine saved us all.”
Just then, a vigorous debate at the neighboring table shattered into gales of laughter. Alfred cut his eyes to regard the four youngsters. The eldest, perhaps sixteen, shook her finger in the face of her younger brother but was laughing too hard to admonish him. Alfred glanced back at the proud parents.
“A spirited lot, your children.”
“Indeed,” said Mr. Ashford. “I blame their mother.”
Mrs. Ashford stiffened her spine. “I gladly accept the credit. Better spirited than spirit-broken.”
Alfred nodded agreement. Spirit-brokenness was a desolate place. “Coniston seems a fine village in which to raise a family. Did not the two of you, however, hail from Oxfordshire?�
�
“We did, and planned to return there after resurrecting the mine. However, we fell as much in love with this place as with each other and failed to leave. We even managed to replace the Ashford estate, but here instead. We still own my father’s mill, though. It turns a modest profit now, unlike those darks days of the year without a summer.”
He fixated on her reference to that dismal year and the deeper metaphor of its meaning. Despite his relative youth, he knew of dark days, disappointment, and rejection. His accidental hosts must have sensed his encroaching melancholy.
“Chin up, Mr. Tennyson,” said Mr. Ashford. “Tell us, what is it that you do besides travel the lakes and fells of Britain?”
Alfred smirked gently, leaned forward in his chair, and folded his hands on the tabletop. “I write poetry. Your lack of recognition of my name betrays my astonishing absence of success.”
“Ah, a poet.”
“You judge me for that?”
Mrs. Ashford shook her head with a laugh. “No, Mr. Tennyson. As we mentioned earlier, we consider Mr. Wordsworth a friend. Do you know him?”
“I have met him, yes.”
“Wonderful. Then I will remind you what he told us nearly twenty years ago. He said love finds a way. Always.”
Mr. Ashford chuckled. “And even inferior poetry from the likes of me cannot stand in the way.”
In a move that startled Alfred, Mrs. Ashford reached across the table to place her hand atop his. He blinked with surprise. She shot him a warm smile that reminded him of home.
“Stay the course, Mr. Tennyson. Perfect outcomes are guaranteed to none of us. However, great contentment and joy may be found in the journey. You need only lift your eyes from the dust of the road to admire the mountaintops from time to time.”
In the presence of such certainty, Alfred’s melancholy dissipated as rapidly as it had come. “Thank you. You have given hope to a lonely wanderer.”
Mr. Ashford dipped his head again. “The pleasure of this fortunate meeting is ours, young man. You have heard our story. Now, go seek yours.”
Mrs. Ashford squeezed his hands for emphasis. “Yes, Alfred. As we now consider you a friend, we expect you to return some day to tell us that story. We will be here in Coniston, happy and waiting.”
The smile Alfred had so diligently kept at bay finally took hold of his features, threatening dimples. The warmth of the Ashfords’ company swept away the chill that had been settling into his spirit over the past weeks. He nodded gratefully.
“I will, Mrs. Ashford. But you hardly know me well enough to call me friend.”
She shook her head and turned that warm smile to her husband. “I long ago gave up making enemies, Mr. Tennyson. Now, I collect only friends. Consider yourself collected.”
Mr. Ashford smiled at his wife and squeezed her hand.
“Indeed. Jane Hancock collected me long ago, and I marvel over that wondrous fact still.”
Like FREE Books?! Download one of Entangled’s bestselling books here!
Acknowledgments
As a latecomer to the romance genre, I owe a debt of gratitude to the members of the Romance Writers of America Austin chapter who welcomed me with open arms and taught me many genre secrets. I also owe thanks to the Beau Monde chapter for allowing me to believe that writing historical romance was not beyond my reach. One of the critical lessons I learned from both groups is the need for historical fiction to ring true. All the places and historical events described in this novel are true and accurate to the best of my understanding. The so-called Year Without a Summer was a miserable run of bad weather likely caused by a massive volcanic eruption the previous year. The Jacobite path, the legends, and places of interest along the way, William Wordsworth, the mining history of Coniston—all accurate. Finally, my thanks to you for reading this novel and sharing the road with Jane, Adam, and that silly horse.
About the Author
After self-publishing science fiction novels over a period of years, I made the truly odd move into historical romance. Although romance is a strong thread in nearly all my works, I came to straight-up, nothing-but-romance only after turning fifty. Since then, I am plagued by the question, “What took me so long?” My awakening began rather innocuously when I casually watched the 2015 version of Poldark. Before I knew, I was falling headlong into the abyss of historical romance and read fifteen such novels over a three-month span. However, no number could sufficiently scratch my itch for more, so I did what any writer would do and began constructing stories of my own. In April of 2019, I received my first contract with Entangled Publishing.
I live in Austin with my wife of thirty-plus years and have three grown children and a grandson within driving distance.
Find me on the web at www.sawyernorth.com and on Twitter at @MrDarcyExplains.
Get Scandalous with these historical reads…
My Darling Duke
a Sinful Wallflowers novel by Stacy Reid
Miss Katherine Danvers is a desperate wallflower. To save her family from financial ruin, she’ll do anything. Luckily, she has the perfect plan... She’ll impress the ton by simply announcing she is engaged to the reclusive and mysterious Duke of Thornton, Alexander Masters, and secure strong matches for her sisters. No one has heard from the duke in years. Surely he’ll never find out before her sisters’ weddings, and she can go back to her own quiet life. But when the enigmatic Alexander Masters suddenly arrives in the city, dashing and oh so angry, he demands retribution. Except not in the way Katherine expected…
Diamond in the Rogue
a novel by Wendy LaCapra
Even though Lord Rayne kissed the innocent and lovely Lady Julia as an act of revenge and was sent packing to America by his best friend, he never regretted the action. Back in England, he still can’t stop thinking about the irrepressible young minx. But she can never be his. Julia will have none of that. She wants Rayne more than ever and what a Lady wants, the Lady gets.
How to Capture a Duke
a novel by Tina Gabrielle
Lady Olivia has no patience for the boring gentlemen of society. When Tristan Cameron, the Duke of Keswick, finds her in his stables, she believes him to be the stable master, and he doesn’t dissuade her of the notion. Their unexpected kiss results in combustible passion…and a potential scandal. Despite her protests, Olivia must wed the foul-tempered duke. Tristan believes he’s been trapped by a scheming, title-seeking lady, but he soon finds himself battling temptation and Olivia’s stubborn determination to be the Duchess he doesn’t believe he deserves…
About an Earl
a What Happens in the Ballroom novel by Diana Lloyd
When Jewel’s uncle banishes her for a mere kiss, Lord Scar as the ton refers to him, comes to her rescue by offering his hand in marriage. She agrees, despite his disfigurement. But what’s a beastly lord like him to do with such a beautiful wife, colonist though she may be—especially when he discovers she’s delightfully saucy?