In Search of Love: Convenient Arrangements (Book 2)

by Pearson, Rose

  Her heart was full, her eyes glistening with joyful tears. “As I shall do for you,…Thomas,” she whispered, seeing the spark of happiness in his eyes as he realized what she meant. “For my heart is filled with love for you also.”

  Lord Altringham stared at her for a moment, then right in front of the crowd and without any hesitation, he pulled her tightly to him and pressed his lips to hers. Julianna did not hear the gasps of shock that came from around them. Rather, she melted into Lord Altringham’s embrace, finding more happiness in that one moment than she had ever felt before.

  I hope you enjoyed In Search of Love! Did you miss the first book in the Convenient Arrangements series, A Broken Betrothal? If you did, check it out on the Kindle store A Broken Betrothal

  If you have read this one, please read ahead for a sneak peek at The Duke’s Saving Grace, one of my favorites from The Returned Lords of Grosvenor Square: A Regency Romance Boxset

  My Dear Reader

  Thank you for reading and supporting my books! I hope this story brought you some escape from the real world into the always captivating Regency world. A good story, especially one with a happy ending, just brightens your day and makes you feel good! If you enjoyed the book, would you leave a review on Amazon? Reviews are always appreciated.

  Below is a complete list of all my books! Why not click and see if one of them can keep you entertained for a few hours?

  The Duke’s Daughters Series

  The Duke’s Daughters: A Sweet Regency Romance Boxset

  A Rogue for a Lady

  My Restless Earl

  Rescued by an Earl

  In the Arms of an Earl

  The Reluctant Marquess (Prequel)

  A Smithfield Market Regency Romance

  The Smithfield Market Romances: A Sweet Regency Romance Boxset

  The Rogue’s Flower

  Saved by the Scoundrel

  Mending the Duke

  The Baron’s Malady

  The Returned Lords of Grosvenor Square

  The Returned Lords of Grosvenor Square: A Regency Romance Boxset

  The Waiting Bride

  The Long Return

  The Duke’s Saving Grace

  A New Home for the Duke

  The Spinsters Guild

  A New Beginning

  The Disgraced Bride

  A Gentleman’s Revenge

  A Foolish Wager

  A Lord Undone

  Convenient Arrangements

  A Broken Betrothal

  In Search of Love

  Christmas Stories

  Love and Christmas Wishes: Three Regency Romance Novellas

  A Family for Christmas

  Mistletoe Magic: A Regency Romance

  Home for Christmas Series Page

  Happy Reading!

  All my love,

  Rose

  A Sneak Peek of The Duke’s Saving Grace

  Chapter One

  “Ah, here comes my bride to be!”

  Miss Deborah Harland laughed softly as she walked towards one of the many injured soldiers that now occupied the abbey’s chapel. “Now then, Mr. Griggs, you know very well that I could not possibly accept your kind offer,” she said, teasingly. “For whatever would Mr. Hunter do then?”

  She gestured towards Hunter, who lay on his side in the bed opposite, although, to Deborah’s relief, he smiled at her as she looked at him. He seemed a little better today.

  “That’s true,” Mr. Griggs replied, his eyes twinkling as he sat back against the pillows. “But still, you know that I’d give up my friendship with Hunter to make you my wife.”

  “And I am truly touched,” Deborah replied. “But I think that you and I must remain friends for the moment, Mr. Griggs. You and Mr. Hunter have got a life to return to, once you’re fully recovered, and I have a life here that I need to consider.”

  Mr. Griggs winced as she slowly began to unwrap the bandages that were around his leg. He’d been injured fighting for King and country, as the Napoleonic wars raged on. Now it was Deborah’s responsibility to do everything she could to restore him – and the other men here – back to full health.

  “This wound looks a good deal better today,” she murmured to herself, not put off by the sight of the raw skin beneath. “Another poultice, I think, to ensure there’s no infection, and then we’ll wrap it up again.” She smiled at Mr. Griggs as he nodded, his expression set hard against the pain. “You’ll soon be on your way home again, Mr. Griggs.”

  The man nodded, although his face was now a little pale. “That’s good,” he said, quietly. “Although I’ll miss you, Deborah.”

  She shook her head at him, a chuckle escaping from her. “You’ll find someone to give your heart to soon enough, Mr. Griggs,” she replied, folding up the bandage so that they might be washed and then reused. “My heart is here.”

  Walking back through the chapel in order to find all that she would need to dress Mr. Grigg’s leg, Deborah reflected for a moment on what her life had become. As an orphan, she had been brought up by the nuns in this place, right in the middle of London. The nuns had given her everything she required, including an education and ensuring that she spoke and acted in an appropriate manner. One of the nuns had been a lady of quality who had turned her back on the wealth and the grandness of her life and had come to the abbey to serve and give of herself out of love for God. It was she who had educated Deborah and as a result, Deborah spoke well and always acted with decorum.

  Having had such a blessed start to her life, it seemed almost natural that she should want to become a nun just as soon as she was able. She had no other experience of life other than living in the abbey. Mother Superior, however, was not quite certain that this was the right time for Deborah to take her orders, for whatever reason. As much as that frustrated Deborah, she had no other choice but to accept that she would have to wait for a time for, as Mother Superior had often reminded her, God’s timing was always perfect.

  Humming softly to herself, Deborah soon found what she needed and began to prepare the poultice for Mr. Griggs. This had been her work for some time now, ever since injured men had been sent back from the war with no-one to help take care of them. The abbey had been opened up almost at once and she had lost herself in the daily – and sometimes nightly – task of caring for the sick and the injured. The other nuns were vigilant in both their prayers and their care of the men, knowing that it was their duty to do so. Deborah did as much as she could, finding that the men were eager for both physical care and spiritual assistance. Oft times, she would be asked to pray for them, which she did without question. She shared many a conversation with the injured men and had begun to consider those who had been here the longest as her dear friends. Mr. Griggs, for example, would soon be on his way home once his leg had completely healed and he was able to walk again. For the moment, she enjoyed their conversations and their laughter, even though he was remarkably persistent in his wish to marry her!

  Deborah laughed to herself and shook her head as she began to mix the poultice together. It was not the first time she had been asked for her hand in marriage and, most likely, it would not be the last. But marriage had never been something Deborah wanted to pursue. A nun did not marry. A nun did not have dreams of such things, and so, therefore, she had closed her mind entirely to the idea. She would take her vows soon enough, whenever Mother Superior felt it was the right time, and her life would continue on here as it had always done.

  “Did you hear the news?”

  Deborah turned her head to see one of the other nuns, Martha, hurrying towards her, her face bright with what appeared to be relief.

  “Martha,” she murmured, turning towards her. “What news? Is something wrong?”

  “The war,” Martha said, excitedly. “It seems the war is coming to an end!”

  Deborah’s eyes widened, her heart quickening in her chest. “Napoleon has been defeated?”

  Martha smiled. “It seems that he soon will be,” she said
, closing her eyes with relief for a moment. “There is a fresh hope that he will be defeated entirely within the next few days. Oh, we must continue to pray for peace!”

  Deborah nodded fervently. “Yes, of course,” she agreed, quickly. “I will. I will do that this very afternoon, once I have finished in the abbey.”

  Martha pressed Deborah’s arm. “You do such good work here, Deborah,” she smiled. “God will bless you for it.” She let go of Deborah’s arm and walked back towards the chapel, ready to help with the injured men. Deborah followed her with her eyes for a moment or two, her mind filled with thoughts of what life here would be like when the war came to an end. The chapel would be empty of men. There would be no beds or mats strewn across it, no cries for help or of pain. She would no longer have the same duty to care for the sick and the injured as she did at this present moment. Of course, there was plenty that needed to be done outside the abbey walls, for London was stricken with desperate poverty. Deborah knew they could find some way to help these people.

  “I must pray for peace,” Deborah murmured to herself, turning back to pick up the poultice and some fresh bandages before following after Martha to go back into the chapel. She would see to Mr. Griggs and then return to her rooms to pray.

  It did not quite work out as Deborah had intended. After seeing to Mr. Griggs, Mr. Hunter had complained of being terribly thirsty and so Deborah had fetched him something to drink, only to see that the wound to his side was oozing through the bandages. That had needed careful attention and she had been forced to stitch the wound closed. It was not the first time she had needed to do so, having become quite adept at closing wounds, but Mr. Hunter had grunted and groaned with every second of her stitching. It had taken longer than she had thought and, by the time she had finished, Mr. Hunter was grey-faced and sweating. She had needed to give him some laudanum in order to help him rest, to lose himself in a dreamless slumber away from the pain that was obviously lacing through him. One he had fallen into a restful sleep, she had made to walk back to her quarters, only for bread and soup to be brought in for the men. She had helped serve that and had needed to feed some of the weakest men, encouraging them to eat as much as they could. It was always difficult to see men in such pain and harder still to see some fade away until they took their last breath. Deborah tried not to allow her mind to settle on such things, however, recalling instead the many, many men who had recovered and had left the abbey, returning to their home and their families that they had left behind.

  Her body was tired. Her legs were aching and still, Deborah knew that there was no time for resting. She needed to pray, needed to ask God to bring about the peace that would be such a blessing to the country. She wanted an end to the fighting, an end to the injured men that seemed to constantly stream into London. She wanted peace and restoration for the countries involved. Determined that she would pray as she had intended, Deborah made her way slowly up the long flight of stone stairs towards her room, which was both small and yet very personal. It had nothing of particular interest within, other than a small bed and small chest of drawers for her clothes, for she had been taught that things such as jewelry or the like were mere fripperies. They were adornments which she did not need, not if she was intending to take her orders. Deborah had never questioned her way of living since it was all she had ever known. Yes, her day to day life could be difficult and yes, she was often weary to the bone, but she knew that her work and her dedication came from a love for God, just as it did for the other nuns. She was happy here, all in all, although she wished she could tell what it was that held Mother Superior back from allowing her to take her orders.

  “Deborah?”

  She turned around with a smile, seeing Mother Superior standing at the bottom of the steps, her lined face holding the usual quiet expression that was so familiar to Deborah.

  “Yes, Mother?”

  “Might you come with me for a moment?” Mother Superior asked, gesturing towards her own small rooms. “I have something I need to speak to you about.”

  Deborah nodded and turned around at once, her tiredness suddenly forgotten as a fresh hope began to beat in her chest. Was this to be the start of her life as a nun? Was Mother Superior about to tell her that she would be able to take her orders soon?

  Her footsteps quickened on the staircase as she hurried down towards Mother Superior’s rooms. Mother Superior had a small room, in addition to her bedroom, that was used for letter writing and meetings. Private conversations took place within, correspondence was sent to her there and, on occasion, those wishing to become a nun were sent here to be questioned by Mother Superior. Mother Superior, whilst always kind and gentle in how she spoke, always spoke with a certainty and a sureness that told Deborah that there was never any possibility of questioning the authority that had been given to her. Deborah had to continually trust that Mother Superior knew what was best for Deborah and had, therefore, simply needed to accept that she would not be taking her holy orders any time soon.

  “Although,” she murmured aloud, walking towards the small room where Mother Superior had just entered, “that might all be about to change.”

  A knot of excitement settled in her stomach as she walked inside, feeling the sense of peace settle over her as she sat down. This room always felt so tranquil, which must be a reflection of Mother Superior herself. She waited patiently as Mother Superior sat down at the small, wooden desk, noticing the piece of paper that sat in front of her.

  “Deborah,” Mother Superior began, clasping her hands in front of her. “We have heard the news that the war is soon to be at an end.”

  “Yes, yes, I know,” Deborah replied, eagerly. “Martha said as much to me. I was just about to go to my rooms and pray that it would occur soon.”

  Mother Superior nodded, a gentle smile on her face. “Your work here has been tireless,” she said, quietly. “I have seen the way you care for those injured men. You have been the light and the hope that they have needed, Deborah. You have cared for both their injuries and for their souls.” Her smile faded. “I have watched you hold the hand of a dying man and stay with him until his body is all that remains of him. You have prayed for them, watched over them, cared for them and given as much of yourself as you could for them.”

  Deborah, unused to hearing such praise from Mother Superior, did not quite know what to do. Looking down at her hands, she closed her eyes and reminded herself not to become proud of what was being said. Silently, she prayed and thanked God that He had given her the desire to care for the sick and the injured, prayed that she would not grow weary of her work.

  “I have had a letter this morning,” Mother Superior continued, as Deborah looked up at her. “I think, Deborah, that this is something that you need to do.”

  “Do?” Deborah repeated, a slight frown forming between her brows. “What is it that I must do, Mother Superior?”

  Mother Superior picked up the letter, read it again, sighed and set it back down on the desk between them. Deborah felt her fingers itch to reach across and pick it up so that she might read it for herself but wisely chose to fight the urge to do so.

  “There is a gentleman,” Mother Superior began, her voice soft. “He has been terribly injured and requires care.”

  “A gentleman,” Deborah repeated, her frown growing steadily. “That is unusual for him to request aid from the convent, is it not?”

  Mother Superior nodded, although a slight twinkle caught her sharp blue eyes. “It is not the gentleman himself who has requested that someone here go to attend him,” she said, by way of explanation. “It is Lady Markham.”

  “His wife?”

  Mother Superior shook her head. “His sister,” she said, quietly. “Lord Abernathy is a Duke and insisted on going to war despite his title. He was injured, as I have said, losing a couple of fingers from one hand and his face badly disfigured on one side. But it is not simply his wounds that need tending, Deborah. Lady Markham writes that she barely knows her brot
her any longer and feels as though he is being pulled in by darkness. She requests our aid in pulling him from this malevolence.”

  Deborah nodded, feeling her heart thumping furiously in her chest. She knew why Mother Superior was speaking to her of this, realizing that the lady thought that she would be best suited to leaving the abbey and going to live with Lord Abernathy’s staff for a time. However, the very idea of leaving the only home she’d ever really known and going somewhere entirely new frightened her terribly.

  “Deborah,” Mother Superior continued, as though she could see into Deborah’s heart. “I know that this can be quite intimidating for someone who has never really lived away from the abbey, but I have the feeling that this is meant to be your path. After all, you have been very well educated and know how you are to speak to someone like the Duke. You will manage very well there, I am sure. Once you return, you can take your orders.”

  Deborah licked her lips, not quite sure how to respond.

  “You have such a brightness in your heart that it cannot fail to touch Lord Abernathy’s darkness,” Mother Superior finished, leaning towards Deborah a little. “I can see that within you, Deborah, even if you can not. Lord Abernathy needs someone such as you to help him see the joy of life again, to remove the dark shades of the past from his eyes. You can do that, Deborah. You can give him the hope he needs to see life for what it is.” She sat back in her chair, her expression serious. “Although I will not pretend to you that it will be easy, nor that he will be glad of your presence. It may take a good deal of time for him to accept you within the house and only then will you be able to do what you can to help him.”