Louise M Gouge

by A Suitable Wife

  “Edmond!” Richard Grenville, the picture of a country vicar in his black suit and white collar, sat with his wife, Mary, and scowled at his younger brother. “The laws of the Church supersede man’s laws and customs, and our faith forbids such a marriage.”

  “But I believe,” huffed Edmond, “it was a political move that established—”

  “Do you mind, Edmond?” Lady Greystone glared at her youngest son briefly, but quickly softened her expression. “I do thank you for thinking of our happiness, but we have accepted our situation as God’s will.”

  “And we thank you and Anna for playing the part of chaperones for us these past weeks.” James Grenville’s blue eyes glinted with humor. “Imagine the gossip if two old friends like us were accused of impropriety.”

  The entire family laughed, easing the tension in the room.

  “And Mother has at last found a companion who can please her,” Edmond said, eliciting more chuckles around the room.

  “You may be certain of that,” Lady Greystone said. “Now, we have taken enough of everyone’s attention. Greystone is the one who summoned all of you here.” She turned to her eldest son. “Greystone, you are in charge.”

  He stood by the hearth, a bemused expression on his dear face. Beatrice wondered if at last he had won the battle of wills with his parent, and all without a struggle.

  “I thank you, Mother dear. I will endeavor to do you credit.” He gave her a half bow. “I think my brothers and I all agree that we owe you a great deal for your selflessness in rearing us. When our father died you could have abandoned us to tutors and servants and lived for your own amusements, as many widows do. But you carefully directed every part of our lives so that we would be a credit to England.”

  A soft grumble came from Edmond’s direction, but Anna chided him with a tsk. After her marriage made them sisters, Beatrice would have to ask her the cause of this brother’s complaint.

  “And in that light,” Greystone continued to address his mother, “even though I requested your assistance in choosing a wife for me, I think it will come as no surprise to you that I have found a lady of flawless grace and reputation to be my viscountess.” He strode across the Persian carpet to Beatrice’s chair and took her hand. “Lady Beatrice has agreed to marry me.”

  Beatrice’s heart leaped with joy and anticipation. Surely his mother would not object to their marriage, even though she doubted the news of Melly’s repentance had reached Society’s ears.

  “Humph.” Lady Greystone’s indignation was clearly artificial. “’Tis hardly a new thing for a son of mine to choose his own bride.”

  Again the room resounded with laughter, even louder this time. Surely Beatrice would hear many interesting stories once she was wed.

  “But I must say this,” Lady Greystone continued. “I have no cause to be ashamed of any of your choices.” She smiled at Beatrice. “I welcome you to the family, my dear.”

  Eyes stinging, Beatrice rose and hurried to the viscountess, bending to place a kiss on her cheek. “I thank you, Mother Greystone. I am honored.”

  “Will you plan her wedding, Mother?” Edmond, clearly the family tease, smirked and winked at his wife.

  Another family joke Beatrice must investigate.

  “She most certainly will not.” Mrs. Parton had sat quietly to this point, her round face beaming with enjoyment over the antics in her friend’s household. “I demand that privilege as my reward for finding Greystone’s bride. Remember our competition, Frances?”

  “Nonsense. I shall—” Lady Greystone began. James Grenville patted her hand, and she laughed softly. “I shall leave it to Greystone to decide.”

  Greystone sauntered over to kiss his mother’s hand, then put an arm around Beatrice’s waist. “My darling, you are very brave to join this family. Are you certain that you—”

  “Hush.” Ignoring their company, she put a finger on his well-sculpted lips. “If you can overlook the, um, complexities of my family, I certainly have no qualms about joining this merry band.”

  “Well said!” Edmond was the first to leave his chair and clap Greystone’s back, and was soon joined by the others. “Congratulations!”

  *

  Once again Greystone had difficulty breathing, but this time his health was not in danger. Beatrice was without question the most beautiful, the most stunning bride he had ever seen.

  Escorting his sister down the aisle of St. George’s Church, Melton looked every inch a proud earl of the realm, his sober black suit in keeping with his physical and mental condition these past three weeks while the banns were cried. Contrary to Greystone’s fears, Melton’s repentance was proving genuine, his rehabilitation progressing. He would report all his expenditures to Greystone and follow the financial plan he and Blakemore had devised. After Blakemore spoke to the newspapers, rumors of any connection Melton may have had to Rumbold had been quietly put to rest. Further, the murderer’s hanging barely made a ripple of gossip amongst the aristocracy whose ranks he had so desperately attempted to breach. Had the man only realized that a life of honor would have won him many friends, no matter what his parentage, perhaps he would have succeeded in garnering the respect which he had tried to force from them.

  But Greystone now focused on his bride, a vision of beauty floating toward him as he stood before the altar. Her pristine white gown was a high-waisted cloud of snowy silk and lace, her veil a gossamer shade that could not hide her wide smile. The closer she came, the more he forgot to breathe.

  Until Edward thumped his arm. “It won’t do for the groom to faint,” he muttered. “If I made it through my wedding, you can do the same.” He snorted out a muted laugh. “Milord.”

  Greystone sucked in his lips to keep from laughing, both at his brother’s humorous taunt and his own joy over his imminent marriage. Gratitude and happiness emanated from Melton’s eyes as he surrendered Beatrice to him. She moved to her place beside Greystone, sending a sweet smile to Anna on her other side. Then they all turned to face Richard.

  “Dearly beloved,” he intoned in his rich baritone, “we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is an honorable estate…”

  *

  Beatrice and her new husband took their places of honor at the long table in Mrs. Parton’s elegant ballroom. Her mentor had gone to great expense to arrange a lavish wedding breakfast, and Lady Greystone graciously surrendered her right to hostess the event. Among the guests were Lord and Lady Blakemore, Lord and Lady Grandly and their daughters, and Lord Winston. Greystone had developed a fondness for the latter after their adventure in rescuing Kit and Ben, and Beatrice could only be flattered that the young baron had considered her a worthy object of his interest. As she surveyed the two-hundred-odd aristocrats who had gathered to celebrate their nuptials and wish them well, she saw many a pretty young lady who would suit Lord Winston, should he deign to consider them.

  On the opposite side of the table, Melly sat beside Miss Waddington, who seemed enchanted by his every word. Melly must have sensed Beatrice’s gaze, for he turned her way. With practiced grace, he brushed his right hand over his ear and then rested it above his heart. The worried hope in his expression almost made her weep, so she quickly returned the gesture. Yes, they would forever listen to each other, would forever care. She lifted a quick prayer of thanks that God had redeemed her prodigal brother.

  After a quick survey of the room, she turned her attention to Greystone, who was conversing with Lady Blakemore on his other side. Beatrice nudged him and received attention from them both.

  “My darling Greystone.” She still felt a thrill at being privileged to address him so familiarly. “Should we not help Lord Winston in his search for a bride?”

  He laughed, that wonderful carefree sound he emitted so often these days. “Why, I cannot think of any reason we should not. Lady Blakemore, what think you on the subject?”

 
“Oh, yes. Tell us what you think.” Beatrice knew the countess had many connections, but one stood out. “What about your sweet companion, Miss Hart? Have they met?”

  Lady Blakemore gave them a wry smile. “No, they have not met. I fear our good baron considers himself too far above a mere companion.”

  Greystone laughed again. “Ah, that is an affliction from which many a peer should strive to heal.” He gazed at Beatrice with such devotion that her heart felt near to bursting. “As for me, I have stolen Mrs. Parton’s companion and made her my own.”

  “And you are mine.” In that moment, the whole room and everyone in it disappeared, and Beatrice saw only him. The love of her life. Her husband.

  Her companion for the rest of her days.

  *

  Be sure to look for the next book in

  Louise M. Gouge’s

  Ladies in Waiting miniseries,

  coming in 2013 from Love Inspired Historical.

  *

  Keep reading for an excerpt of Handpicked Husband by Winnie Griggs!

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for choosing A Suitable Wife, the second book in my LADIES IN WAITING series. I hope you’ve enjoyed this journey back to Regency England. I love to write stories about this unique and fascinating era, the setting for Jane Austen’s timeless novels. One of the most appealing things about this time is that everyone knew exactly what was expected for someone in her/his station in life, and diligent people strove to play their roles well. But of course, this means it was also a time of much social injustice (great conflict for a novel!). Still, many godly reformers sought to make changes in social inequities. Not until 1864—fifty years after my story takes place—did Lord Shaftesbury succeed in eliminating the use of “climbing-boys” through the Act for the Regulation of Chimney Sweepers, which established a penalty of £10.00 for offenders. That was a hefty sum in those days.

  When I learn such an interesting historical fact, I love to incorporate it into my stories. Getting the details right, however, is one of the tricky things about writing historical fiction. The social structures of the Regency era were quite strict and confining, so if you’re a die-hard Regency fan and find an error, please let me know! And please know that I tried to get it right!

  As with all of my stories, beyond the romance, I hope to inspire my readers always to seek God’s guidance, no matter what trials may come their way.

  I love to hear from readers, so if you have a comment, please contact me through my website:

  http://blog.Louisemgouge.com.

  Blessings,

  Louise M. Gouge

  Questions for Discussion

  In the beginning of the story Lord Greystone has asked his mother to find him a wife suitable for someone of his social rank (not unusual in that time period). What circumstances change his mind about letting her make that decision? Would you like to have a matchmaker choose your spouse? Why or why not?

  From the instant Greystone sees Lady Beatrice, he is smitten by her beauty and grace. Why does he turn away from her? Do you think he is justified in that response, considering the expectations of the era and his own charitable concerns? How do you think this reflects upon his character? What causes him to change his opinion over time?

  When Beatrice sees Lord Greystone, she is immediately attracted to him, and that feeling only grows throughout the story. What attracts her to the viscount? Do you agree with her assessment? What qualities do you think make a man or woman attractive?

  Beatrice finds great satisfaction in ministering to the orphan girls. In what ways does she identify with them? What do you foresee in her future ministries now that she will be a wealthy viscountess?

  What sort of person is Lady Greystone? Why does she reject the idea of Beatrice becoming her titled son’s wife? Considering the times, is she justified in her opinions?

  Greystone does not hesitate to listen to God’s direction when it comes to helping the little chimney sweeps. What draws him to their struggle? What does this say about his character? Do you think he fits the image of a “hero”? Why or why not? What is your definition of a hero?

  What expectations did Lady Greystone have of her sons? Why were her expectations different for Greystone?

  Both Greystone and Beatrice are Christians. Which one changes the most in the story? In what ways does each one mature and become stronger? In what ways do they stay the same?

  The overarching theme of this story concerns young people choosing a mentor. In what ways is Lord Melton’s chosen mentor very different from Beatrice’s and Greystone’s? Have you ever had a mentor? How did this person help you choose your path in life? Have you ever mentored someone else?

  This was an age in which the aristocracy ruled and held all of the privileges. As much as we romanticize the era, would you like to travel back in time for a visit? At what level of society did your ancestors live?

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Historical story.

  You find illumination in days gone by. Love Inspired Historical stories lift the spirit as heroines tackle the challenges of life in another era with hope, faith and a focus on family.

  Visit Harlequin.com to find your next great read.

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  Chapter One

  Northeast Texas, 1894

  An ear-splitting shriek ricocheted through the forest, startling a raucous cloud of blackbirds from the roadside trees.

  “Easy, Trib.” Adam Barr patted the horse’s neck as the animal shied. What now?

  The buggy behind him slowed to a stop, but Adam ignored it, along with the uneasy questions from the three men seated inside. He’d promised to escort the men from Philadelphia to Texas, not be their nursemaid.

  The wailing continued and Adam fought the urge to tilt back his head and answer with a wild, full-throated howl. He’d gritted his teeth so often these past few days the muscles in his jaw hurt. Taking on this job when more important business waited for him in Philadelphia had him in a foul mood, as his companions could no doubt attest.

  After six years of biding his time—six years, two months and thirteen days to be exact—he’d thought he could finally pursue his goal without distraction.

  If this assignment had come from anyone but Judge Madison…

  Adam scanned the brush-skirted hardwoods lining the trail. Whatever the source of that eerie sound, it was headed their way.

  He eased his rifle from the scabbard. Anticipation stirred his blood. He might have to employ his “company manners” with his three charges, but this bellowing beast was another matter.

  No telling what manner of creature roamed this forsaken backwoods. The wail was too high-pitched to belong to a bear. A large cat maybe?

  He urged Trib closer to the trees. There seemed to be a pattern to the sound, a certain mangled cadence. Almost as if—

  Well, what do you know?

  He leaned back. Not a wild animal after all. Too bad.

  “Do you think it’s a wolf?”

  Adam glanced over his shoulder. Chance’s expression, like his tone, held more eagerness than worry. Did the kid think it would be some kind of lark to face down a wolf? Of course, from what Judge Madison had told Adam, the twenty-one-year-old was on this expedition precisely because he was prone to seek out trouble.

  “Sounds more like an infernal wildcat.” Everett adjusted his shirt cuff with exaggerated care, doing a creditable job of appearing unconcerned. But his British accent was more pronounced now, something Adam noticed happened when anything rattled the dandified cynic.

  Mitchell, who controlled the skittish carriage horse with ease, refrained from comment. Nothing unusual in th
at. The loose-limbed bear of a man had spent most of the trip west with a sort of sleepy-eyed disinterest. What was different, however, was the subtle alertness that radiated from him now, as if he were a cavalryman waiting for the enemy to appear over the rise.

  Another strident note drew Adam’s focus back to the roadside. He didn’t bother to disabuse them of the notion that it might be a wild animal. It’d do the pampered trio good to have something to worry about besides the unorthodox plot they’d gotten themselves embroiled in.

  “Perhaps you should get the carriage moving,” Everett said. “I’m sure our escort can handle this better without us to distract him.”

  “We shouldn’t abandon Mr. Barr,” Chance shot back. “He might need—”

  “This is about common sense, Junior, not courage,” Everett interrupted. “Besides, I do believe Mr. Barr is more interested in getting rid of the lot of us than having us guard his back.”

  “I told you before—the name’s Chance, not Junior.”

  Adam’s jaw tightened. Everett was right. Even if it had been a grizzly headed this way, he’d rather face that than listen to more of this petty bickering. This assignment couldn’t be over soon enough to suit him.

  A heartbeat later, the source of the ear-grating racket stepped onto the roadside. As soon as the creature caught sight of them, the discordant warble ceased.

  “It’s a man!” Chance’s tone carried as much disappointment as surprise.

  “Not quite.” Adam didn’t blame the youth for the mistake. The party responsible for that unmelodic braying wore baggy overalls and an equally oversize shirt, both of which had seen better days. There was even a smudge of dirt on one cheek to match those on the clothing.

  But this was no man.

  From Adam’s closer vantage, he spied a frizzy brown braid long enough to brush the seat of the overalls. That, along with the slender neck and hint of curves below, proclaimed this person as most definitely female. He hesitated, though, to use the word lady. She appeared more a disheveled forest waif than a civilized being.

  The girl seemed as startled as the men in the carriage. But a flicker of something else—disbelief? wariness?—shadowed her surprise.