A wallflower’s Folly
Amanda Mariel
Contents
Books by Amanda Mariel
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
Excerpt
Chapter 1
About the Author
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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Copyright © 2019 Amanda Mariel
All rights reserved.
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No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.
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Published by Brook Ridge Press
Books by Amanda Mariel
Ladies and Scoundrels series
Scandalous Endeavors
Scandalous Intentions
Scandalous Redemption
Scandalous Wallflower
Scandalous Liaison
* * *
Fabled Love Series
Enchanted by the Earl
Captivated by the Captain
Enticed by Lady Elianna
Delighted by the Duke
* * *
Lady Archer’s Creed series
**Amanda Mariel writing with Christina McKnight**
Theodora
Georgina
Adeline
Josephine
Lady Archer’s Creed boxset
* * *
Scandal Meets Love series
Love Only Me
Find Me Love
If it’s Love
Odd’s of Love
Coming next to the Scandal Meets Love series
Believe in Love
* * *
A Rogue’s Kiss Series
Her Perfect Rogue
Coming next to the A Rogue’s Kiss series
Her Perfect Scoundrel
His Perfect Hellion
* * *
Standalone titles
One Moonlit Tryst
One Enchanting Kiss
Christmas in the Duke’s Embrace
One Wicked Christmas
* * *
Mists of Babylon series
Love’s Legacy
One Wanton Wager
Coming next to the the Mists of Babylon series
Forever in Your Arms
* * *
Wicked Earls’ Club
**Titles by Amanda Mariel**
Earl of Grayson
Coming next to the Wicked Earls’ Club
Earl of Edgemore
* * *
Fated for a Rogue
A Wallflower’s Folly
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Connected by a Kiss
**These are designed so they can standalone**
How to Kiss a Rogue (Amanda Mariel)
A Kiss at Christmastide (Christina McKnight)
A Wallflower’s Christmas Kiss (Dawn Brower)
Stealing a Rogue’s Kiss (Amanda Mariel)
A Gypsy’s Christmas kiss (Dawn Brower)
A Duke’s Christmas Kiss (Tammy Andresen)
* * *
Box sets and anthologies
Visit www.amandamariel.com to see Amanda’s current offerings.
Chapter 1
Yorkshire England, 1810
Lady Olivia Montague strolled across the parlor, her slippers threatening to wear through the carpet from her constant pacing. She could scarcely believe what was happening. Why now? Why after all this time? For Heaven’s sake, it had been more than fifteen years since they’d last heard from the duke.
What the devil changed his mind? She turned her attention toward her friends, Lady Emma, and Lady Juliet. “I have to find a way out of this farce, and you ladies are going to help me.”
“I fail to see what the problem is,” Emma said from where she sat near the hearth, her violet eyes cool and calm.
Juliet sprang to her feet, pale blond curls bouncing with the movement. “I understand perfectly, but perhaps if you tried to see the situation in a more positive light.”
Olivia turned to peer at her well-meaning friends. Lady Emma Finch and Lady Juliet Gale were both the daughters of Earls and longtime family friends. The three of them had been nearly inseparable throughout the years. Honestly, they were more like sisters than friends. And while Olivia knew the pair meant well, she could not help being cross with them at the moment.
She narrowed her eyes as she replied, “You do not need to understand, and there is nothing positive about this…this…atrocity.”
“Now that is a fine way to describe your pending marriage.” Emma shook her head, her lips pressed tightly together.
Juliet sighed, her shoulder’s rounding a fraction before she perked back up. “What if you were to fall in love with him? That would be a positive outcome.”
Olivia dismissed Juliet’s words even as she spoke them. “I’m not going to fall in love with anyone, least of all him.” Exasperated, she released a breath, then returned to pacing. “I’m not going to marry him.”
The thud of Emma’s fan against the arm of the gold brocade wing chair she sat in drew Olivia’s attention back to her. “You cannot be serious. There’s a betrothal agreement. You’re legally bound. You’d face ruination if you refused.”
“And besides, he’s a duke.” Juliet smiled, her blue eyes twinkling. “Every woman dreams of being a duchess.”
Olivia could not deny the merits of her friends arguments, but neither did she believe they applied to her. She tossed her head as she turned back to them. “I don’t give a fig what he is, and I don’t want to be a duchess.”
More than a little frustrated, she dropped onto a nearby settee. “All I want is a way out of this. Hells teeth, I don’t know the first thing about the man. I don’t even know what he looks like, and I’m expected to marry him.”
Olivia brought her hand to her forehead and began massaging her temples with her thumb and middle finger. Her head pounded, but she did not have time to rest or drink tonics. She had to utilize every moment to find a way to get out of her impending marriage.
Juliet leaned forward, a scowl etching lines around her mouth. “Now you are being unfair. He’s not a complete stranger. You have met him before. You told us as much.”
Olivia dropped her hand to her lap and peered at Juliet. “As I recall, I told you how much I detested him. He was rude, obnoxious, messy, entitled—”
“He was young, a child just like yourself,” Emma interrupted, one side of her lips tilting up in the semblance of a smirk. “Truly, Olivia, you should at least give him a chance.”
Juliet’s expression took on a dreamy quality, all serenity, and joy as she looked at Olivia. “What if he’s grown into a handsome man with exemplary behavior?” She clasped her hands together with barely contained excitement. “What if he arrives and sweeps you right off your feet?”
Olivia shook her head and squeezed her eyes together. “I assure you, that is not going to happen.”
Emma tipped her head up toward the ceiling, almost as though she were praying, then said, “But it could. If only you’d give him a chance.”
Olivia would wager her friend had indeed been lifting a prayer. After all, Emma had always been the most level headed among them. If her parents asked her to wed a gentleman of thei
r choosing, she’d do so without complaint.
Juliet smiled at Emma before returning her attention to Olivia. “She is right, and you know it. A lot can change with the passage of years. How long has it been? Ten, Twelve years?”
“Fifteen,” Olivia forced the word through clenched teeth. Fifteen long years with nary a word from the man. Fifteen years of Olivia believing she’d been forgotten. How the devil did anyone expect her to forget that?
Emma pushed a stray lock of raven-colored hair from her cheek. “The boy you remember has long since grown into a man. I’d wager he has changed a great deal.”
“None of this matters. It’s all beside the point.” Olivia waved her hand in dismissal. “Even if he were handsome and well-mannered it would not negate the fact that he spent the last fifteen years ignoring our betrothal. Neither my family nor myself received any communication from him or his. I’d come to believe myself free.”
“Perhaps he had a good reason?” Juliet said, optimism flashing in her blue gaze.
“You both know that I do not wish to marry anyone…ever. And now,” Olivia released a deep sigh, “now I am enslaved once more. I cannot bear it. I will not. You have to help me.”
Emma clasped Olivia’s hands in hers and offered a reassuring smile. “Then we shall, at least as much as we are able.”
“Oh, I know. Let’s go to the fair.” Juliet turned an excited grin on them, fairly bouncing in her seat. “I’m told there’s a fortune teller there. You can see her, and maybe she’ll tell you what you’re supposed to do.”
Olivia perked up at the idea and smiled at her friend. “At the very least she can give me some guidance.”
Juliet had always believed in such things while Emma called them pure nonsense. Olivia did not hold any firm opinions about the unknown, but she did believe that some people were blessed with unique intuitions and abilities.
She believed it possible that the fortune teller could tell her something useful, leastwise, she was willing to reserve judgment until she’d seen the woman. What could it hurt?
“Perhaps,” Emma released Olivia’s hand with a sigh, “though it’s far more likely she’ll provide nothing more than a moments entertainment.”
Juliet glared at Emma for a heartbeat, then shook her head. “You needn’t always be so serious.”
“You well know how I feel about such things. I simply do not want to get Olivia’s hopes up.” Emma stood. “Shall we be on our way, then?”
Juliet stood then threaded her arm through Olivia’s and leaned closer. “Ignore her, there’s nothing wrong with hope.”
Olivia gave a slight grin not wanting to dampen Juliet’s excitement, but she well knew that Emma’s warning had merit. She looped her arm through Emma’s and gave a slight squeeze. “Regardless of how this turns out, I thank you both.”
As they made their way from the parlor, Olivia’s heart pounded, a mixture of foreboding and excitement turning her insides to knots. Even if the fortune teller had nothing good—nothing helpful to say—Olivia would escape the future being forced on her.
She had to. She’d not settle for any other outcome.
The fairgrounds were all a bustle with the local gentry and common born folks alike. Olivia’s heart fairly pounded free of her chest as she and her friends made their way through the crush in search of the fortuneteller’s wagon. They did not have far to go before they spotted it.
Olivia experienced a moment of hesitation as she stood before the brightly colored wagon with her friends beside her. What if the fortuneteller had nothing good to say? Could Olivia discount her words and move on? Or would they ring through her mind despite her efforts? Perhaps not knowing would be best.
A dark-haired woman with probing brown eyes appeared in the door. “Do not tarry, child,” she said as she stepped aside to allow them entrance.
Juliet nudged Olivia, setting her in motion. She took a few tentative steps then mounted the stairs leading into the conveyance. Juliet and Emma followed close behind her.
“Sit.” The fortuneteller indicated a bright velvet bench.
Juliet gave Olivia an encouraging nod while Emma gave a slight grin.
Olivia moved to the bench and lowered herself onto it. Emma and Juliet came to sit beside her, their hips pressed together so that they would all fit.
The fortuneteller sat on a bench opposite them. A small table stood between them with a deck of cards sitting nearest the woman. “I am Madame Zeta, and you are?” She smiled, her freckled cheek’s rising with the movement.
“Olivia.” She cleared her throat and said, “Lady Olivia Montague.” She glanced around the wagon at the brightly colored interior. It was unlike anything she’d seen before, though she found something about it inviting. The tension in her muscles waned as she returned her attention to Madame Zeta.
“I assume you are here to have your fortune told?”
Olivia hesitated for a heartbeat. She nodded, then reached into her reticule and produced three shillings. “Yes, please.”
The honey-skinned lady reached across the space and Olivia dropped the coins into her palm.
Madame Zeta turned, dropping the shillings into a small box at her side. “Very good.” She reached out once more. “Give me your hand?”
Though Olivia’s pulse quickened, she did not hesitate as she turned her hand over and placed it in Madame Zeta’s. Something about the woman put her at ease. Perhaps her warm gaze or the intelligence she saw within it? Maybe the fortuneteller’s gentle smiles?
Madame Zeta examined Olivia’s palm, then she trailed one dark finger across the lines of Olivia’s flesh. A warm tickle resulted, but Olivia held still and remained quiet.
“Your path is well defined but not so much so that it cannot be altered.” Madame Zeta’s gaze remained on Olivia’s palm as she spoke. “We all have a path to travel. The path of life. It keeps us steady come what may.”
Olivia nibbled on her lower lip as she waited for the woman to say more.
“You are facing a crossroad.” Madame Zeta met Olivia’s gaze.
Olivia swallowed past the dryness in her throat. “Yes.”
“It is a matter of the heart,” Madame Zeta said, a knowing flicker in her gaze.
Olivia could do no more than nod her head as she stared at the intriguing woman.
Madame Zeta wrapped her fingers around Olivia’s hand and gave a gentle squeeze. “Love will come to you on the wings of folly. The choice you make will determine your fortune, child. Beware of hasty decisions.”
Olivia stared back at her trying to decipher the meaning of Madame Zeta’s words, but they simply did not make sense to her. She released a pent-up breath and asked, “What does that mean? What am I to do?”
Madame Zeta released her hand and Olivia felt a sudden rush of cold. “That is for you to determine.”
“But—”
Madame Zeta shook her head then stood. “No one else can walk your path, child.”
Olivia stared at her with a thousand questions ringing through her mind. Surely there was something more the woman could tell her. Some sort of guidance she could give. “Please?” Olivia asked with more desperation than she’d intended.
“I can foretell no more, child.”
Emma stood and reached for Olivia’s arm, giving a slight tug. “Let us be on our way.”
“Indeed.” Juliet sprang to her feet with a broad smile.
Olivia rose to join them, then departed the wagon with a heavy heart. Madame Zeta’s words had been a riddle, and she didn’t know how she was to solve it, but somehow she must.
Chapter 2
William Breckenridge, Duke of Thorne, lounged near a large floor to ceiling window in the Marquess of Pemberton’s library as he awaited an audience with the lord. With his gaze trained on the door, he straightened his cravat.
What the devil was keeping the man? William had been shown to the library upon his arrival and was eager for an audience. More than twenty minutes had since past, and he det
ested waiting.
William stood and turned to gaze out the window as he wondered how long Pemberton would keep him in suspense. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, contemplating.
After Williams fifteen-year absence, he didn’t suppose he had any grounds for complaint regardless of how long it took the marquess to appear. Patience is a virtue, he reminded himself. Cliché, but also true.
Releasing a breath, William turned his thoughts toward his purpose for being here. He could not help but marvel at the fact he’d finally come for his bride. Of course, he’d always known he’d marry. As a duke, it was his duty to do so. But he’d not been in any hurry to see it done. Rather he resented the fact that his life had been arranged.
But now everything had changed. William needed to claim his wife with all due haste and could only hope Pemberton felt the same way. That the man would turn his daughter over, honor their agreement without issue. Could William blame him if he refused?
And what of the lady?
Surely Lady Olivia would pose no objection for what woman did not dream of her wedding day? She’d probably spent most of her life wishing he’d arrive and waiting to call herself duchess. After all, the two of them had been betrothed as children. Their lives all planned out and handed to them on silver platters.
William had long detested the fact that when the time came, he would have to take the mousey chit to wife, and done all he could to resist and delay. How odd that he now found himself grateful for the arraignment.
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