by J. M. Adele
“Thank you, kindly. Have a good day.”
“You are welcome.” He nodded before turning away.
I held the envelope, crossing the street to the nearest establishment serving liquor. Finding a table at the rear, I fell into a seat. Hands trembling, I opened the envelope.
Dear Sebastian,
I cannot tell you how happy I was to receive your letter. Not knowing of your fate has been incredibly draining on my spirits. I miss you terribly.
Gold, you say? I pray that you find what you are searching for. I am glad that you have secured work and that you are finally free to live as you choose.
I remain here at the Beauchamp Estate, although I find it hard to keep up with the physical work. Memories of you surround me and that brings some comfort in my old age.
To answer your questions, Miss Emmeline never married the earl. He was escorted from the property just hours before the wedding was to proceed. I cannot tell you the reason why. Just know that Mr Beauchamp put his daughter’s needs ahead of any arrangement he had procured. For that, he deserves respect.
I dropped the pages on the table.
Why had he not put her needs first from the beginning? What could have caused the earl to be removed so abruptly? Had he hurt her? Had Mr Beauchamp discovered that the earl was embezzling money or stealing from him? No, Father would have told me something like that. It could only mean he had hurt her in some way. My hands clenched in my lap as I ground my teeth.
I picked up the letter again.
She gave birth to a little boy on the ninth of March, 1868. His name is Benjamin Sebastian Lovatt.
You are a father, Sebastian.
Gripping the paper tightly, I read that line again. And again. Ten times I read it to make sure I had it right.
I am a father.
I have a son.
I blew out a breath. Would I ever get to see him? My mind spun a thousand scenarios, all of them involving embarking on a journey across the seas. Would I choose to endure the voyage again? Yes. Only this time as a free man.
I continued reading.
Marybeth, Emmeline’s former chambermaid, is raising him alongside her own child. He helps me in the stables. He is just like you were, but a little more free-spirited like his mother.
Emmeline’s parents do not acknowledge him as their kin, but they have allowed him to stay. For that I am grateful. I suspect they have not forgiven him for being the cause of his mother’s death. I am sorry to be the one to break the news to you.
No. My head dropped as I crumpled the papers in my fist. Resting my elbows on my knees, my shoulders shook as I broke into sobs. I’d thought I’d known what it was to have my heart crushed. News of her death pulverised any remains left in my chest cavity. I had comforted myself, believing that she was with her family, living a charmed life. I had dreamed that she was happy witnessing Miss Modesty’s foal grow to an adult. I’d fantasized that her parents had changed their minds about the earl. That she had been spared from a life with the insufferable ratbag. That bit I had right, at least.
I had never imagined this.
A world without her in it was unimaginable.
To finish reading his letter would be an impossibility. I slid off the chair and stumbled for the exit, collapsing in the alleyway between buildings. My elbow captured my guttural cries of agony as I flicked through all the possibilities of the life we could have had. A blessing that was never meant for me. I sobbed until I had nothing left and for many hours beyond. I lay in my filth, my tongue as dry as the autumn leaves. I stayed there, unable to do much more than breathe and acknowledge the movement of the shadows across the wooden cladding as the sun tracked through the sky, once, twice.
I wanted the sun to take me as it sank below the horizon.
Wherever the sun was, that was where I would find my Emmeline.
We would be together again.
I finished it! Thank you so much to my beautiful readers. You keep me going when I’m not sure I have it in me. Your faith is fuel for my tired imagination, painting my sketchy character outlines into bold colour and pulling their 2D frames from my mind and into vivid life. Big hugs to you all. Thank you for the feedback—it helps me more than you know. I’m so thankful to have shared something from my vulnerable insides and have you embrace it as your own. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
To my reader group, JM’s Gems—you are definitely a highlight in my life. You’re all such strong, inspiring people in your own right and have been so welcoming and tolerant of my weirdness. Thanks for being weirdos with me. ;P
Special mention goes out to Kat—fellow misfit and blurb/cover critic. Plus, repeated signing assistant. I’m so damn lucky that you put up with my distracted, stressed, weird self. Thanks for coming along on so many adventures. Some of them questionable, but whatevs. Keep livin’ large!
Jane! Thanks for bringing Vicky into my life. Thanks for the writing crawls and the chai teas. Thanks for the vines in my hair and the chicken on a spring. That poor chicken. No thanks for the internet dating. O.o
Vicky—master juggler. Thanks for pimping the heck out of my books. Thanks for taking the strain off my back. Thanks for laughing at my lame jokes. Thanks for keeping in touch, because we know I’m shit at doing that. Just, thank you!
Lauren and Anna—the CREATING ink ladies. I love working with you! Thank you for all the smiley faces when you tell me off. Lol. #repetitionandfiltersforthewin
In all seriousness, thank you for being so encouraging and understanding. And tolerant. Let’s not forget that. You see the things that I don’t, and I’m forever grateful for your invaluable input. Up, down. In, out.
Who puts the finishing sparkle on all my projects? Fiona from Fiona Dreaming. Thanks so much for being so patient with me and for spotting the sneakiest of errors. Much love to you.
To my cover designer, Ben. No, I did not name the main character after you. Sorry about that. Thank you for taking on a newb and for being so understanding of the unforeseen delay. Your work is beautiful. I love what you’ve done with my covers! You’re stuck with me now.
Every one of you who signed up to share, and/or review my book—a billion thank yous go to you guys. Getting the word out is the hardest part for me. Being an introvert and dealing with a busy life makes the social media game an unscaleable wall sometimes.
As always, I left my boys until last. My preciouses (not Gollum’s). We have had some year, haven’t we? You’ve got no idea, but sometimes I watch you doing the simplest of tasks—chewing, breathing, watching TV—and I marvel at your perfection and how freakin’ lucky I am to have been blessed with you. Despite all our challenges, I wouldn’t change a second. I loooooooove you all ridiculous amounts.
Thank you. <3<3<3
_____
Read on for an excerpt from Sensing You, book one in this series.
Book Three, Indulging You (Felicity’s story) will be coming soon. :)
PROLOGUE
My mind wandered to that place where my dreams flee, replaced with vaporous intruders and penetrating horrors. My body twitched and jerked, struggling to find consciousness as the misty form of a woman drifted into my room.
Not again.
She wore a floral, summer dress. One strap was torn and hung loose from her shoulder, and dark bruises circled her neck. Reaching out her hand, she wrapped it around my foot. My body stilled. Inside my chest, my heart froze while my stomach threatened to prolapse. She pulled on my foot, imploring me to listen. I knew she couldn’t really drag me away, but I felt the icy touch, the drag of her fingers on my terrified flesh. I wondered if I would somehow disappear. My hands reached desperately for the pillow.
“Stop,” I pleaded.
“You have to help me. You have to stop him.”
My whimpers turned into sobs. “Please … g-go away.”
I felt another presence. Heard the shaky rumble of his voice as he told the lady to leave.
“Daddy,” I whispered, relieved. He s
miled at me with sad eyes.
But the spirit refused to budge.
“I’m sorry, honey bunch. I love you,” my father’s voice whispered, heavy with regret.
The wretched fingers of loss clawed their way into my chest, pulling apart my ribcage as if just learning of his death.
I dropped the pillow, and reached out to him. “Nooo! Daddy!” My screams were useless. He was gone.
Wrenching my sweat-soaked body upright, my throat ached as the scream continued to escape the depths of my chest. I pressed my lips together to cut off the sound, but that only lasted a second. My mouth opened wide again as I gasped for much needed air.
A hammering sound filled the room. My muddled brain mistook it for the pulse in my ears, but it was the beating of a fist on my bedroom door.
“SHUT UP!” My housemate screeched as she continued to pound.
I was definitely awake now. My hand circled my throat. I needed to check for myself if my screams had stopped. Yup. All good. “Yeah, keep your skin on!” I tried to shout back, but my voice came out hoarse.
“Fucking freak,” she mumbled before I heard the shuffle of her feet on the tiles.
Again, frozen fingers grasped my toes and pulled. I snapped my foot back, leaving her hand suspended and empty. I watched my stubborn, unwanted visitor through narrowed eyes, and a whole lot of false bravado.
“He’s coming. He’s going to take another.”
“Okay got it. You can go now. You’re not wanted here. Leave.” My voice was low, but firm.
Her face went blank, and her hand dropped from its raised position. The holographic image of her faded, but the chill running up and down my body remained.
I liked to think I could run from this, but there’s no hiding from things unbound to time or matter. My stupid sixth sense was telling me the proverbial shit was going to hit the proverbial fan … soon.
Fuck my life.
Author of smart, sexy characters, J.M. Adele loves to flit between the dark and light sides of romance. Somewhere along the way, an almost constant procession of imaginary characters settled into her thoughts and she picked up a pen to share their stories.
She lives in Queensland with her three greatest loves—her children. When she's not writing or being a mum, you might find her hiking up a mountain, singing in the car when nobody is looking, or curled up with a good book.
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Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 2
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
Epilogue