HeirAndEnchantress_PGolden-eBooks
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The scanning, uploading, and distributing of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized copies, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Copyright © 2021 by Paullett Golden
All rights reserved.
Cover Design by Fiona Jayde Media
Interior Design by The Deliberate Page
Also by Paullett Golden
The Enchantresses Series
The Earl and The Enchantress
The Duke and The Enchantress
The Baron and The Enchantress
The Colonel and The Enchantress
The Heir and The Enchantress
Romantic Encounters
A Dash of Romance
COMING SOON
The Enchantresses Series
The Gentleman and The Enchantress
The Sirens Series
A Counterfeit Wife
A Proposed Hoax
The Faux Marriage
This book is dedicated to all my loyal readers who inspired the writing of Hazel’s story.
Praise for Golden’s Books
“An amazing book by an author that has honed her craft to perfection, this story had me gasping with laughter and moping my eyes as the tears rolled down my face.”
—Goodreads Reader
“Paullett Golden isn’t afraid to weave complex family matters into her historical romance… The author’s strong points are her ability to reveal the vulnerability of her characters while showing you how they work through their differences.”
—Readers’ Favorites Reviewer
“Character development is wonderful, and it is interesting to follow two young people as they defy the odds to be together. Paullett Golden’s novel is compelling and a stellar work that is skillfully crafted.”
—Sheri Hoyte of Reader Views
“It’s thoughtfulness about issues of social class, birthrights, gender disparities, and city versus country concerns add provocative emotional layers. Strong, complex characterizations, nuanced family dynamics, insightful social commentary, and a vibrant sense of time and place both geographically and emotionally make this a poignant read.”
—Cardyn Brooks of InD’tale Magazine
“The author adds a few extra ingredients to the romantic formula, with pleasing results. An engaging and unconventional love story.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“The well-written prose is a delight, the author’s voice compelling readers and drawing them into the story with an endearing, captivating plot and genuine, authentic settings. From the uncompromising social conventions of the era to the permissible attitudes and behaviors within each class, it’s a first-class journey back in time.”
—Reader Views
“[The Enchantresses] by Paullett Golden easily ranks as one of the best historical romances I have read in some time and I highly recommend it to fans of romance, history, and the regency era. Fabulous reading!”
—Sheri Hoyte
“The author Paullett Golden has a gift for creating memorable characters that have depth.”
—Paige Lovitt of Reader Views
“Golden is a good writer. She knows how to structure plot, how to make flawed characters sympathetic and lovable, and has a very firm grasp on theme.”
—No Apology Book Reviews
“What I loved about the author was her knowledge of the era! Her descriptions are fresh and rich. Her writing is strong and emotionally driven. An author to follow.”
—The Forfeit author Shannon Gallagher
“I enjoy the way Golden smartly sprinkles wit and satire throughout her story to highlight the absurdity of the British comedy of manners.”
—Goodreads Reader
“Paullett Golden’s writing is so good that I was completely entranced, and could barely put the story down.”
—Goodreads Reader
“With complex characters and a backstory with amazing depth, the story … is fantastic from start to finish.”
—Rebirth author Ravin Tija Maurice
“Paullett Golden specializes in creating charmingly flawed characters and she did not disappoint in this latest enchantress novel.”
—Dream Come Review
“…a modern sensibility about the theme of self-realization, and a fresh take on romance make the foundation of Golden’s latest Georgian-era romance.”
—The Prairies Book Review
“What a wonderful story! I have read a number of historical fiction romance stories and this is the best one so far! Paullett does a masterful job of weaving so many historical details into her story….”
—Word Refiner Reviews
“The novel is everything you could ever want from a story in this genre while also providing surprising and gratifying thematic depth.”
—Author Esquire
“I thoroughly enjoyed meeting and getting to know all of the characters. Each character was fully developed, robust and very relatable.”
—Flippin’ Pages Book Reviews
“It is a story that just keeps giving and giving to the reader and I, for one, found it enchanting!”
—The Genre Minx Book Reviews
“This is one of the best books I’ve read EVER! It made me smile, it made me laugh, it made me angry and then it made me very happy.”
—FH Denny Reviews
“One of the best historical romances I have ever read. Everything about this book is empowering and heart touching.”
—Goodreads Reviewer
Contents
Also by Paullett Golden
Praise for Golden’s Books
Prologue
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
Epilogue
A Note from the Author
About the Author
Visit www.paullettgolden.com/the-enchantresses to view the complete Enchantress Family Tree
Prologue
September 1754
The anteroom to the Trelowen study smelled of cigars, leather, and beeswax polish. Animal horns and skins adorned the dark wood of the walls. Hazel dabbed the corners of her eyes with a wadded handkerchief.
Beyond the adjoining door, she heard the voices of her father and Lord Collingwood, muffled one minute then raised the next. She flinched each time her father blasphemed.
One voice shouted, “Ruined!” The remainder of the sentence was lost through the door.
“Scandal!” shouted another voice, or maybe it was the same voice.
She did not strain to hear or listen a
t the door. How could she? She could not bear to listen to the accusations, however true. She was ruined. Nothing could save her reputation. Her father would not secure the marriage he had planned for her; her brother would never become a Member of Parliament; her father’s investment plans would not come to fruition. All because of her.
Her only hope, her family’s only hope, was Lord Collingwood.
“Whore!” a voice screeched.
Hazel’s tears flowed anew. Without bothering to stifle her sobs, she pressed the damp kerchief to her face and wailed.
Chapter 1
One Month Earlier
The squeeze of the year was to be the party at Longfirth Hall. Miss Hazel Trethow pinched her cheeks in the vestibule mirror. This would be a coup if she had her way. It was, after all, her birthday. Not every day did a young lady turn seventeen.
Her curls assessed, her bosom primped, and her rouge heightened, she opened the drawing room door. A babble of voices cut the hallway’s silence. The hostess, Miss Agnes Plumb, sat with her friends near the double doors to the garden, all tittering and fanning themselves. But where were the gentlemen? Hazel’s heart sank to think they might have declined.
“Hazel!” Agnes rose from her chair.
“Oh, Hazel, they’ve all agreed to come,” said one of her friends, relieving her unspoken worries.
Agnes kissed Hazel’s cheek. “Even him.”
With deft hands, Hazel fluffed the skirt of her robe à l’anglaise to ensure the outline of her panniers showed to advantage before taking a seat.
This party was no ordinary house party. Agnes’s overbearing parents were visiting friends in Hampshire, leaving her in the capable hands of her governess. As luck would have it, this particular governess was in love with the gardener and willing to make a deal with her charge: Agnes could host a party in her parents’ absence on the condition that the governess could spend the week’s end undisturbed in the gardener’s cottage.
Agnes looked to her friends. “While none of our esteemed guests have yet arrived, I’m positive they will. When they do, the butler will escort the gentlemen here, and we will greet each with all the delight our fair bosoms have in store.”
The ladies exchanged glances, giggling with accelerated fanning.
“Once we’ve each claimed our gentleman for the party,” Agnes continued, “we may spend the remainder of the next two days in his company, uninhibited by guardians or parents. At last, we can all live. Whoever thought up this ridiculousness of chaperones should perish in a duel. No one can find love from observed conversation and arranged matches.”
“But what of the butler and staff?” voiced one of the girls.
Agnes sniggered. “Don’t worry about them. I caught the butler with a scullery maid this summer. He won’t breathe a word of our transgressions and will ensure the silence of the staff.”
The honored guests of the occasion happened to be the most eligible bachelors in the West Country. One such gentleman was the love of Hazel’s life: Anthony Faldo, Viscount Brooks. Granted, she had not been formally introduced to him, but she knew enough of him to know he was the one—fashionable, handsome, desirable. What more could a woman want? She was determined to have him.
Her lips ached to know the pleasure of Lord Brooks. Should all proceed as planned, Hazel would, at long last, have her first kiss.
It was difficult to ignore the peeling wallpaper, the worn cushions, or the frayed upholstery. Nothing escaped Mr. Harold Hobbs’s notice as he stood in his father’s study, still wearing his travel clothes, dusty and exhausted. His father Eugene Hobbs, Baron Collingwood, kept his son waiting. Harold did not fidget, nor did he become impatient. With infinite discipline he waited.
His father’s voice boomed behind him. “Welcome home, my boy!”
Before Harold could turn, Lord Collingwood slapped his son square between the shoulder blades.
“Nearly three years it’s been.” His father clasped Harold’s shoulder to angle him. “Let me have a look at you.”
Harold took in the sight of his father. In the time he had been in India, his father had aged, new worry lines creasing the man’s forehead, a rounding of the shoulders apparent, and a sloppiness present in the styling of his periwig. The sight tugged at Harold’s heart.
“Bit darker in complexion, eh?” Collingwood eyed his son, hands still grasping the shoulders. “A touch more powder will remedy that. Can’t have you looking like a savage, now can we?”
Lips pursing at the insult to an olive complexion—the skin tone of the friends he held most dear—Harold cut straight to business. That was, after all, why he had been summoned without delay, without time to rest, bathe, or change.
“You received my letter?” Harold asked.
Collingwood moved to the other side of his desk and sat, inviting his son to do likewise.
When his father affirmed, Harold said, “Then you know we made a tidy profit. I was prepared to reinvest a portion of the earnings for additional ship charters until I received your letter. I returned as soon as I could. You understand why I declined the alternative investment opportunity you proposed?”
Index finger to temple, the baron propped up his head. “Not in the slightest.” He waved a hand when Harold made to speak. “Yes, yes, you scribbled several nonsense reasons, but that’s all they were—nonsense. Why didn’t you await my reply? If you had, you would know I instructed you to carry out the deal.” He grunted his displeasure. “It’ll take far too long for you to return to India. I suppose my solicitor must make the necessary arrangements now. I’m quite put out.”
Lacing his fingers in his lap, Harold waited for his father to finish before saying, “The deal is too risky.”
Another wave of a hand. “You’re too young to understand. There are debts to pay. Our priority is to make money. We need more money.”
“I disagree. Our priority is for the estate to sustain itself. Fallow fields and empty tenant farms will not support Trelowen. I intend to take the profits to the steward so he may purchase new equipment and begin repairs to the cottages. With more tenants and working farms, we’ll be back in the land’s good graces.”
“I’ve let the steward go.”
Harold sucked in a breath. “Then rehire him.”
Collingwood slapped an open palm to the table and leaned forward. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to invest our earnings in the new deal, double that amount, invest again, and double again. My ear has been to the ground. I know this is sound. We’ll be wealthy and back in business, my boy!”
Shaking his head, Harold said, “I’ve spent nearly three years in Calcutta, Father. I know what’s sound, and this deal is not. The Nawab of Bengal is discontent to the point of raising an army. The French East India Company is at odds with the British East India Company. There’s already a war in southern India. Trouble is brewing, as I said in my letter. More importantly, I refuse to be involved in opium trading. Chartering ships of coffee, tea, and textiles is one thing, opium quite another. Either from greed or risk, the capital required to invest has tripled since the first offer, far and above what we earned from the recent charter. We don’t have the money. Even if we did, I wouldn’t do it. It’s too risky, not to mention unethical.”
“Poppycock,” Collingwood said. “Nothing about money is unethical. We need more, and this is our way in. Tripled, you say?” He tugged at the edge of his periwig, the part slipping askew to one side. “You won’t earn the capital here. You should have stayed in India.” Stroking his chin, he added under his breath, “Unless…”
Harold squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, straining against exhaustion and frustration.
His father’s palm slapped the desk again. “You’ll marry an heiress, someone with a dowry large enough to provide the capital.”
“And what will you tell Mr. Trethow when he discovers you’ve broken y
our word?”
Harold thought of the pink-faced young Hazel Trethow to whom he was intended to marry, the daughter of his father’s childhood friend. She had only been ten years of age when Harold had seen her last, he having just turned fourteen and not at all interested in the arrangement. He would not be disappointed to walk away from the match, but there had always been a certain security in knowing whom he would wed—security and resignation.
Collingwood leaned back in his chair, a gleam in his eye. “Don’t you worry about Trethow. I’ll handle him.” Talking more to himself than to his son, he added, “Your mother will know an heiress or five. We’ll invite them for an evening of supper and entertainment. Let them compete for your hand. We’ll secure the capital before you can say ‘hoodwink.’”
A knot tightened in Harold’s chest. He had no intention of marrying a woman for money, nor did he intend to invest in a deal that would surely ruin them. For now, he could only placate his father until he devised a sounder plan.
Chapter 2
On the bright side, Miss Agnes Plumb was enjoying herself. Hazel watched her from the other side of the room, laughing with Lord Driffield, Lady Melissa Williamson, and Melissa’s husband Sir Chauncey.
Lord Driffield’s eyes rarely left Agnes’s face as she talked with animation. There was no denying he was enamored with her. Agnes needed more fun in her life, more glimpses of love, more time with her beau. Unlike Hazel’s father, who doted on her, Mr. Plumb was a tyrant, refusing Agnes a come-out, refusing the suit of Lord Driffield based on an old and ridiculous rumor of his being a rake and gamester, and refusing her just about anything. This party was as much for Agnes as it was for Hazel, if not more so in Hazel’s opinion.