Finding Hope (Mail Order Bride: Brides And Promises Book 1)

by Ruby Hill

  “Pah!” came the retort. “She’ll not make you a good wife! She’s the same as her mother, that one. She’ll be raising her skirts for any man that so much as looks at her, don’t you doubt it.”

  Oliver began to shake with rage as Sarah clung to him. He told himself that were he to let loose his rage upon this man, he would lose everything he loved. He had to let the insults go.

  “I do not have time to trade words with a fool,” Oliver replied through clenched teeth. “You will get off my property immediately and never return. Should you ever try to see your daughter again, it will be all the worse for you. Your daughter is destined to be my duchess. She loves my children as a mother might and has earned both my love and respect, something she has never received from you. Get off my land and never set foot on my property again. Do I make myself clear?”

  It was clear Sarah’s father had no choice but to leave. He spat in Sarah’s direction, one final, disgusting insult before turning around to make his way off the estate. Oliver held Sarah to him, feeling her sag in relief.

  “He will never hurt you again,” he whispered. “Never again, my love.” She sobbed against his chest, blood staining his shirt. “I swear to protect you, Sarah, for the rest of my days. Will you have me?”

  It was certainly not the most romantic proposal and not in the way or the place he had intended, but he needed to make her his own.

  “Yes,” Sarah whispered, brokenly. “I will, Oliver.” How grateful she was for this man, how deep her love for him. He had saved her from her father, and now she would be his, forever. She was both happy and shaken in equal measure.

  “Let us go inside, my dear,” Oliver said, putting a steadying arm around her shoulders. “We will need to get you cleaned up immediately.”

  “The children?” she asked, anxiously. “Are the children all right?”

  “Yes, yes,” he replied soothingly. “They were very good; they came straight to me. They will be worried about you, so we must reassure them that you are safe now.”

  Leaning heavily against him, Sarah made her way back into the house, one that she could now think of as her own.

  10

  Sarah winced as she awoke, her face still battered and bruised. With a soft knock, Meg entered the room, a few soft lavender compresses to hand. With gentle hands, she wiped and pressed Sarah’s bruises, chattering twenty to the dozen as usual.

  “I heard you and the master are to be married, Miss!” she exclaimed. “That is good news indeed; we are all so pleased for you.”

  “Thank you, Meg,” Sarah replied, feeling so content it almost overwhelmed her. “I am sure we shall be very happy.”

  “Indeed you will, miss,” Meg laughed. “Twill be strange to call you Your Grace instead of ‘Miss,’ but I will get used to it, I am sure. Now, you must bathe your face like this both today and tomorrow, especially since you are to be announced at the ball.”

  “What?” A look of surprise spread across Sarah’s face. “Announced at the ball? No, no Meg, I am staying with the children in the balcony. We are to watch the dancing before they go off to bed. Of course I am not to go the ball.”

  “But you are, Miss,” Meg replied, a smile in her voice. “The master has ordered a ball gown to be made for you; the dresser will be coming soon for your measurements. You will be as pretty as a picture!”

  The knock at Oliver’s door was not the usual butler’s knock. Rising to his feet, he opened it himself, chastising Sarah for knocking instead of just entering as she ought.

  “You are going to be my wife, my love,” he murmured gently, examining her face carefully. “A duchess does not knock. I shall never grow tired of seeing you.”

  “Oliver,” Sarah began, a firm look in her eye. “Meg tells me there is a dresser coming and that I am to be announced at the ball?”

  “Indeed,” Oliver replied. “Why should you be surprised at that?”

  Sarah did not know what to say for a moment. It all felt so strange.

  “I am a governess, I –”

  “You were a governess, you mean. My dear, you are no longer a governess, you are no longer Sarah Brown. You are Lady Sarah Sayers.”

  “But to be living in this house, without a chaperone, what will people think of me?”

  Oliver smiled, his final surprise at hand.

  “I have thought of all that, my love. If you would do me the honor, I should very much like to marry you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” came the astonished reply.

  “After what your father did to you, I did not want to take any chances. I rode all night and have returned with a Special License in my possession. We do not have to wait for the banns to be read; there is no need to wait any longer. If you are willing, we shall marry tomorrow and attend the ball as man and wife in the evening. What do you say, my love?”

  Sarah felt as though all the breath left her body at once. She would be the Duchess of Huntington, the wife of Oliver and mother to both Elizabeth and Samuel. All in one day!

  “What do the children think?” she asked, breathlessly.

  Oliver chuckled.

  “Of course you would think of the children at a time like this,” he laughed. “Have no fear, my love, I spoke to them both, and they are vastly in agreement with me. I believe Elizabeth has already decided she is to be your flower girl.”

  Sarah smiled in relief. The children wanted her to be a part of their lives, and that was all the reassurance she needed.

  “Very well, Oliver,” she replied quietly, sliding her arms around his neck. “I should be very pleased to marry you tomorrow.”

  “It cannot come soon enough,” he murmured against her lips, kissing her with all the love that he felt.

  * * *

  The following morning dawned bright and early. Looking in the mirror, Sarah was relieved to find that her face, whilst not perfect, was certainly much improved from the day before. Meg assured her that, with a little thought, her hair could be artfully arranged to hide the worst of the remaining marks. The morning passed in a blur of preparations as she was bathed, dressed and prepared for her wedding day.

  The moment had come. Elizabeth had walked down the aisle, throwing flower petals in all directions, a whirlwind of happiness. Samuel was standing stoically by his father’s side, although she saw a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. The two witnesses were ready, smiling broadly at her as she made her way towards Oliver.

  “You look beautiful, my dear,” he whispered, taking her hand and tucking it under his arm. Sarah couldn’t speak, her happiness threatening tears once more as she thanked God for this man. She listened carefully to the vicar, speaking her words of love and respect and making her promises before Oliver and God. He slid a ring on to her finger, and it was done. They were man and wife. The Duke and Duchess of Huntington. She could hardly believe it. Together they walked out of the church to a flurry of well-wishers, who had come to see the new bride.

  The happy couple had very little time to celebrate, with the Christmas ball quickly approaching. By now, news had spread of the duke’s sudden marriage and an air of expectation lay around the estate.

  Sarah was nervous. The house was enchanting, decorated with wreathes and rich greenery, giving the house a beautifully festive scent. She was dressed in one of the finest gowns she had ever seen, her feet encased in beautifully soft slippers. Her hair was in an ornate design, and pearl earrings hung gracefully from her ears. She barely recognized herself. As she descended the stairs, Oliver felt his breath hitch. She was so beautiful. He took her hand and kissed it, wishing there were not gloves in-between his lips and her skin.

  “You are majestic tonight, my dear. I shall be the envy of every man in the room.”

  Sarah’s smile wavered just a little as she raised her chin and allowed her husband to lead her into the ballroom to prepare for the receiving line.

  Sarah’s smile was fixed in place as she finished meeting the last of her guests. She had smiled and nodded for what se
emed like hours and was grateful for Oliver’s presence beside her. She knew she was the object of people’s curiosity and did her best to ignore the many stares and whispers that came from behind gloved hands.

  “Well done, my love,” Oliver murmured, his hand around her waist. “The worst is over. Let us enjoy the rest of the evening. Shall we?” He presented his arm to her, and she took it without hesitation, allowing him to lead her onto the floor. As the beginnings of a waltz began to play, Sarah realized they were the only couple on the floor.

  “Oliver,” she whispered. “What if I make a mistake?”

  He smiled at her, his voice for her ears only.

  “It is just you and me, my love, just you and me. We are dancing as we were before. Do you remember?”

  She nodded yes, still aware of every eye on her.

  “Do not think of them, Sarah, look only at me. I shall count to three if it will help you to keep in time?” He was laughing now as the music began, teasing her out of her anxiety. Taking her hand more firmly in his, Oliver smiled at her once more, wishing he could kiss her worry away.

  Sarah smiled at him in return, as though she knew his thoughts. Focusing on the love in his eyes, she forgot all about the people who watched them, her nerves dissipating.

  “Oliver,” Sarah whispered. “I love you so.”

  “I love you too, my dear,” he replied, pulling her close as they began to dance.

  * * *

  THE END

  Part IV

  Forgotten Heart: Edgefield Dukedom

  1

  “Son, I think it is high time that you were married.”

  The sunlight was streaming through the windows behind the desk, causing the tiny flecks of dust in the air to appear as dancing stars on a cloudless night. There was no sound in the room apart from the soft tick of the grandfather clock’s hands and the rhythmic rapping of his father’s fingers on the wooden arm of the chair where he sat.

  Lord Bridgewater was a stately man with a strong chin that his mother loved to fuss over, a rosy complexion that his sister pined for, and an ever-present smile on one side of his face, as if he was always amused about something that no one else understood.

  The man rolled his eyes and lowered the book he was reading to glance across the room at his father. He also was a rather impressive looking man, quite handsome for his age, and had more finesse in one toe than Lord Bridgewater felt he had in his entire body. His greying hair was combed neatly to one side, and his steady grey eyes watched his son like a hawk did a mouse.

  “Father, we’ve been over this,” Lord Bridgewater replied rather lazily, laying the book down on the desk beside him, causing some of the dust floating in the patches of sun to swirl as if they were flakes of snow. He crossed his hands across his chest and nestled down further in his chair, anticipating the coming argument. “She is not yet of age. No matter how dearly you wish for the engagement to happen, I –”

  “Do you have such little sense?” his father replied, his tone changing, and a laugh following his words. “Your betrothed was presented to society just last week at the ball of the season, so I have heard.”

  Lord Bridgewater blinked, unable to find words to respond to this statement.

  His father laughed once more. “My son, always so full of wit… It appears, with not a thing to say, for once in his life.”

  Lord Bridgewater cleared his throat and stood to his feet, turning to face the window. It was indeed quite a shock to hear such news. How many times had they had this conversation, he wondered? How often had he shrugged the information off, knowing that sometime, in the distant future, he would marry this girl that he had met once in his childhood? He couldn’t even remember what she looked like. The only thing that he knew of her was her name and her reputation.

  His father, still smirking, apparently well pleased at his son’s reaction, crossed the room to join his son at the window.

  Lord Bridgewater shifted uncomfortably.

  “Yes, according to your mother, she was well accepted, knowing who she was to marry. Some of those girls are not as fortunate as she and will have to entrance some young gentleman at their father’s estate, but not dear Lady Agnes.”

  The world suddenly felt much smaller, far less exciting than it had that very morning. All of the adventure and the possibilities it held came to a hard and fast stop, like a horse spooked by something in the woods.

  It was not as if he didn’t wish to be married, he mused as he watched his sisters picking wildflowers by the river that bubbled along beside the estate. In fact, it was a part of his life that he had greatly looked forward to since his parents had told him of the betrothal.

  He was nine years old, and a family he had not known had spent nearly a week with them. According to his father, it was an important family, and the young girl, their daughter, was to be his wife one day.

  She was three years of age at the time, and all he could remember thinking when he looked at her was that there was no way she was ever going to get any bigger or grow up at all. As most young children do, they cannot see past themselves, and he dismissed it as a folly and had promptly forgotten it. Since he had not seen her since, the only knowledge he had of her was any information that his father would deliver from her parents.

  When he turned eighteen, however, he was quickly reminded of it. He had been spending quite a lot of time at the seasonal gatherings with Lady Tabitha, a pretty, yet simple young woman who had just entered society, and his father felt as if he was becoming a little too familiar with her for someone who was already engaged.

  “Engaged?” he had said crossly, feeling the color rise to his cheeks. “What in the world do you mean? I don’t remember asking anyone for their hand.”

  “Have you forgotten about Lady Agnes?” His father had asked, gripping his son’s arm tightly. “It is your duty as her future husband to be the upstanding Christian man that you are expected to be and love her by withholding your affection for women such as these.” He had gestured around the grand ballroom, where many attractive young women fluttered their eyelashes and laughed in small, delicate ways.

  Since that day, he had kept his promise to the girl he did not remember and abstained from any further interaction with the women he came into contact with. It caused more than a few issues at social gatherings, but the information that his father gave him about his betrothed was enough to keep her on his mind quite often.

  “So your mother and I have decided to invite her and her family to stay with us for the summer so you are able to meet one another again and spend some time together,” his father continued, also watching the girls outside.

  “This summer? As in a few weeks from now?” Lord Bridgewater asked.

  His father nodded. “Indeed. We just received the letter this morning.”

  Lord Bridgewater swallowed and sighed. A knot had formed in his throat, and he felt a flutter of emotions in his chest for the first time in many years.

  “I hope this isn’t all too sudden for you, my boy,” his father began, “Marriage is a great change in your life, but it is wonderful and scary, and I can be honest when I say it was the very best thing that ever happened to me.”

  Lord Bridgewater turned to look at his father. There was a gleam of satisfaction in his tired eyes. “I mean it.”

  “I didn’t think you would say something so starkly moving, Father, if you did not mean it.”

  A few moments of silence passed once more as the two of them stood side-by-side, still gazing out the window, each lost in his own thoughts.

  “The young lady is apparently quite excited to be meeting you again,” his father said.

  “Is she now?” Lord Bridgewater responded, feeling a sudden tightness in his chest, and a warmth in his cheeks. It was not an unpleasant feeling, but it surprised him.

  His father nodded happily. “She is. Her father tells me that you are the talk of the town, my boy. There have been quite a few families who have been dismayed to discover t
hat you are already spoken for.”

  “And why might that be?” Lord Brightwater replied, eyeing his book once more, wondering if he had time before dinner to take it outdoors and finish the chapter he had been reading.

  “You are quite the desirable candidate for marriage, it seems.”

  “Oh, am I now?”

  “Indeed. There is apparently a rumor going around that you are quite handsome.”

  Lord Bridgewater laughed out loud. “Come off it, Father. Who in their right mind would be spreading such lies?”

  “I admire your humility, son, but surely you must realize that it is not only your looks that have attracted the attention from so many.”

  He was quiet and did not respond to his father immediately.

  “What you will inherit is no secret to many of those we are connected with, and it does not surprise me in the least that many families would wish for their daughters to marry into such comfortable security. I wonder how many waited with baited breath for the moment when our family had a falling out with Lord and Lady Kensington, and that would therefore end with us calling off the engagement with their daughter, the Lady Agnes.”

  It caused Lord Bridgewater to pause again. How is it that he had never seen this for what it was before? Had there truly been so many women that desired to be his wife that it had begun to spread like idle gossip through the towns and villages?

  “I had no idea that so many people were unhappy with me,” he finally said.

  His father looked at him pointedly. “I never said anything about people being upset with you.”

  “You didn’t need to,” Lord Bridgewater replied. “I have learned enough about people to understand that their hearts were in a less than desirable place.” He sighed. “How do you handle this sort of pressure, Father?”

  His father sighed as well and shrugged his shoulders. “It is not worth worrying about. You are inheriting the dukedom because you are my eldest son, and I inherited what I inherited because of my father, and it continues on. We have done what we thought is best for you and for our family, and others that do not understand do not deserve to understand it.”