The Brahmin Ball (A Sweet Historical Romance Novella) (Brahmin Brides Book 1)

by Julianna Blake

  She tried not to think about the fact that her rose pink gown had been refashioned from the gown she’d worn to the Summer Follies fundraising ball two years earlier. She hoped that the narrowed sleeves, redesigned gathers, and the addition of silk flowers and bows would mask its origin.

  I shouldn’t be thinking of myself. This is Grace’s day, not mine.

  The Barstow women had to resort to selling several of their newest gowns to afford the wedding gown Grace wore. It was the one expense their uncle refused to fund.

  It was worth it, Madeline thought as she watched Grace pulling the full bustle of the gown through the carriage door.

  They’d hired a local seamstress to replicate—as much as possible—a Worth design they had found. Though less detailed, with far less beading, it was a fine dress, and Grace didn’t seem to mind—her eyes never left her new husband’s.

  “I’ve never seen her happier,” Clara murmured.

  “Neither have I. She looks beautiful.”

  Grace smiled shyly at Garrett, and lifted her hand in a giddy wave as guests offered congratulations and well wishes and the carriage pulled away.

  “Make haste, girls,” chided Miriam. “We must arrive at the house before the guests do. The breakfast reception starts in half an hour.”

  ***

  Garrett took Grace’s hand and kissed it once the carriage was far enough down the street. “We are alone at last!” he sighed.

  “I know, I’m so happy,” she sighed, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’ve a mind to tell the driver to keep going right past Uncle Henry’s house, and never stop!”

  “That would be fine by me.” He grinned. “But I suspect your Mother would chase us down herself, if she had to.”

  Grace giggled. “Now that I would like to see!”

  He relished every moment they had together as the carriage turned onto a side street, then turned again, merging with the line of carriages and buggies plodding down Beacon Street.

  He looked down at Grace and saw that far away look in her eyes again. “Are you thinking of Winston?”

  She bit her lip, giving him a sheepish grin. “You know me so well. I’m sorry, that’s awful, isn’t it?”

  “Not at all. If he hadn’t gotten sick, you’d have been married almost a year.”

  “Our first anniversary would have been next week,” she looked down at his hand, then shifted her eyes quickly to his. “But please don’t think I have any regrets. I don’t. I’m blissfully happy to be Mrs. Garrett Gladstone.”

  “I know. It must be a strange feeling, to miss one person, but to know you couldn’t have the love that you have now if that person was still in your life.”

  “How did I end up with such a wise and understanding husband?”

  “Excellent luck, my dear.” He kissed the top of her head, through her veil. He’d never seen her as radiant as he did at the altar. He only wished he could wipe all traces of anguish from her life.

  She had told him the story of Winston Endicott’s death—how he’d had a sore throat for weeks that he made light of, insisting it was nothing. It developed into a severe case of quinsy. Grace stayed by his bedside as much as his family would let her. She had been sure he would rally, until the blood poisoning set in, and took him in a matter of days. And when she’d only begun to mourn, her father died suddenly, two months later.

  Two great losses so close together. What I wouldn’t give to be able to free her from that pain! he thought.

  Grace sighed, but a smile accompanied the sadness. “I’ll always miss Winston, and part of me will always love him, but it was never the same. I don’t think we were the best match, when all is said and done. I’d always have wondered if he would have married me, had my family’s financial troubles been public knowledge back then.”

  “And with me, you’ll never have to wonder.”

  “No. With you, I’ll only wonder how I lived the first twenty years of my life without you.”

  ***

  “At last!” Madeline told Grace. She’d been trying to steal time with her sister for the last half hour, but the many guests and well-wishers all wanted their turn to speak with the bride. “You’re positively beaming.”

  “Am I?” Grace blushed, giggling. “I suppose that’s to be expected on the happiest day of my life. I just wish I could be alone with him already. I’ve hardly spoken to him all morning.”

  “You’ll have all your life to talk with him.” Madeline hooked her arm in Grace’s. “I’m holding you hostage, at least for a few minutes more.”

  “Very well, you win!” Grace laughed.

  “I’m very happy for you both,” Madeline said. Then she lowered her voice. “And I’m green with envy—you won’t wake every morning to Mother’s clucking about how we’re all doomed if we don’t catch a husband immediately!”

  Grace chuckled. “True! I’ve dreamed of this day, in more ways than one. But you, dear sister, must take matters into your own hands, if you want freedom from Mother’s chiding.”

  “Not you too!” Madeline sighed.

  “I’m sorry, I’m just so happy I could burst! And I saw you earlier—you’re not happy at all.”

  “Nonsense. I’m thrilled for you and Mr. Gladstone.”

  “You’re thrilled for us, but you’re not happy in your own right. I desperately want to see both you and Clara have every bit as much happiness as I have right now.”

  “We’ll be fine. Mother has had a letter from Cousin Isabel—she’s expecting, and she invited Clara to come stay with her during her confinement.”

  “I didn’t know that! But surely Mother will want her to remain here. How many young men could she meet, staying shut in with an expectant cousin?”

  “Isabel says that her mother has promised to make sure Clara is invited to every social occasion, and accompany her. There will be less gossip for Clara in New York, and that may give her more opportunities than she’d have here in Boston.”

  “But surely Mother won’t hear of Clara marrying a New Yorker?”

  “She is considering it, at least. Uncle is restless. She may not have a choice.”

  Madeline wouldn’t tell Grace about the conversation she overheard, in which their Uncle gave Mother an ultimatum—find all her daughters husbands in six months, or she wouldn’t be allowed to stay on.

  “But what about you? Won’t you be invited, too?”

  “Mother didn’t want to push her luck with Cousin Isabel’s kindness. Oh, don’t look at me with such sad eyes, Grace! I’ll be fine. I have other options I’m exploring right now?”

  “And what are those?”

  Madeline thought about the letter in her reticule from the gentleman rancher in Montana. The idea of becoming a mail order bride was humiliating—she, an attractive woman and daughter of an elite Boston family! But it was far less humiliating than the idea of facing Eliza’s taunts at every social occasion. The rancher was the best candidate so far, and his Montana home was far from the prying eyes of her peers…but she’d never tell Grace about it. Not until she’d made her decision for certain, and everything was settled.

  “I’ll let you know when I’m sure things won’t fall through.”

  Grace frowned. “Why do I get the feeling I won’t like your ‘other options’? I don’t want you going to New York. I’d miss you terribly.”

  Madeline forced a smile, and blinked back the tears that stung her eyes. “I don’t yet know where I’ll be, or who I will marry. But I will find myself a good situation. And if it is not here in Boston, rest assured that no matter how far away I am, I will always think of you, and I’ll always stay in touch.”

  “You’re frightening me. I won’t hear of you leaving Boston.”

  “Maybe you won’t. Perhaps I’ll live right beside you.”

  Grace brightened. “That’s better! Remember, you did promise to name your first daughter after me.”

  “How can I forget?” Madeline took Grace’s hand and squeezed it. “You have kept me
on the straight and narrow all my life, and reminded me when I needed to be more kind. You’ve been the best sister one could ask for, and I admire you greatly. I could do no better than to name my first daughter Grace. But don’t tell Clara that,” she added. “I’ll deny every word.”

  Grace raised an eyebrow. “How do I know you don’t tell Clara the same thing?”

  “I suppose you’ll find out for sure, when I have a daughter,” she giggled. “And speaking of,” Madeline flashed her a wicked smile, “are you hoping for a boy, first, or a girl?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I’m just so happy to finally be Mrs. Gladstone, I haven’t given it much thought.”

  “You two will have beautiful babies together,” Madeline sighed, letting go of Grace’s hand. She felt tears coming on again, thinking about how she might not be in Boston for the birth of Grace’s future babies, and she didn’t want Grace to suspect anything. “I should let you go to your husband. I can see him giving you the eye from here, so I suspect you’ve been away from him too long.”

  “You’re right. I shouldn’t keep him waiting. Enjoy yourself today, Madeline. And remember what I said…my future children need their Aunt Madeline right here in Boston, not in New York City.”

  Madeline watched her sister wend her way through the guests, each of whom wanted to stop her and offer congratulations again.

  “She looks so happy,” her mother said, coming up beside her.

  “Yes. She’s positively glowing.” Madeline forced a smile.

  “He’s not one of us, but mark my words, he’ll be an influential politician someday…and that’s something, isn’t it?”

  Miriam’s satisfied smile was the first genuine smile Madeline had seen on her mother in a long time.

  “Perhaps. And it will be good to have an honest politician in power, if that happens. But you know those aspirations are his uncle’s, not necessarily his own.”

  “We’ll see.” Miriam said, her eyes twinkling.

  Even now, with Grace settled and happy, Mother can’t stop herself from meddling. Poor Grace will have to deal with this her whole life long!

  “That reminds me,” Miriam said as they watched Grace across the room, returning to Garrett’s side. “Your Aunt Alice has invited Richard Brandywine to dinner on Thursday. Be sure to ask Margaret to mend your ruby red dinner gown—I noticed the hem was showing wear the last time you wore it.”

  “Richard Brandywine?” Madeline gasped. “Mother, you can’t be serious! He owns a haberdashery!”

  “Five haberdasheries, my dear, in Boston and in New York. And they’re opening another in Hartford. You seem to forget your uncle’s ultimatum. Mr. Brandywine is good looking, has decent manners, and is an up-and-comer in Boston society. Not to mention, a decent amount of money.”

  “New money, Mother!”

  “That’s enough, my dear,” Miriam warned, the smile never leaving her face as she looked around the room. “I know what is best, just leave it all to me.”

  Madeline bit her tongue, but fumed in silence. She thought again of the letter from the Montana rancher. Perhaps it was time she gave serious consideration to the man. His ranch was close to a town, so it must be electrified and have running water. He’d told her his holdings were large. She’d stayed in many ‘rustic’ beachside manor homes…wouldn’t living in Montana be very much like that?

  Mr. Croft had assured her that Helena was a very modern town, and far advanced from its primitive pioneer beginnings. It might not be the same luxurious life she grew up in, but it couldn’t be much worse than living on a shoestring, at her uncle’s whim, could it?

  At least she would be running her own household, and her husband would surely provide her with everything she needed. Not the latest Paris fashions, but at least some very good copies from a talented seamstress. She was sure to be the most fashionable and respectable woman in Helena, and there was something to be said for that.

  “What are you thinking about?” Miriam asked. “You look so deep in thought, I’m expecting smoke to billow from your ears.”

  Madeline smiled as she watched her brother-in-law across the room, gazing at his new wife. The couples’ eyes sparkled as they looked upon one another in love and admiration.

  “The future,” Madeline murmured. “Just as you’ve asked, Mother, I’m thinking about my future.”

  ###

  Read on for an excerpt of Mail Order Regrets, the first book in the Montana Mail Order Brides series, which features Madeline Barstow’s mail order bride journey:

  The worst of the storm passed just to the northwest of them, but snow still came swirling down, forcing them to take a slower pace. For a time they passed through a more open, hilly area, before they made it to a narrow, winding part of the road that meandered with tall, craggy cliffs and hills on either side. The sky was obscured by the clouds, and the last bit of light was fading as they pulled off the main road and down a long trail to a small cabin nestled in the foothills. There was no glow of lamplight coming from the windows, nor was there any smoke billowing from the chimney.

  “We’ll rest here a while before we go on?” she asked, pulling down the covers.

  He brought the horses to a stop in front of the door. “No. We’re not going to make it tonight. We’ll have to stay here.”

  “You can’t mean that.” She clutched the furs to her bosom. “You said we’d take shelter—not sleep here!”

  He hopped out and started unhitching the horses. “I do. It’s another two hours to my sister’s place, and the visibility is only getting worse. There’s nowhere decent between here and my sister’s house to take shelter. This is it. We’re lucky I found it—I almost missed the turn-off.”

  “But—but—” she stammered, “there is no one else here.”

  “And we’re lucky for that. There are only accommodations for two here. Assuming someone hasn’t made off with one of the two chairs that were here last time, that is.”

  “You are not funny, Mr. Porter.” She stood up in the sleigh and stomped her foot. “I insist you take me to a proper place to stay.”

  The horses whinnied and stomped in place, jostling the sleigh. Madeline slipped fell back into her seat with a hard thump. The driver took the horses by their bridles and spoke in soothing tones until they quieted. Then he stalked back to the sleigh.

  “If you insist on throwing a childish fit,” he snarled, “please do it outside the sleigh, before you provoke my horses into bolting. They are tired and so am I, and I don’t want to lose them and my sleigh in a snowstorm because you are indulging in a tantrum over not having a soft, fancy place to lay your head tonight.”

  She swallowed her rage at being spoken to with such disrespect, only because she realized he was right—she could have caused a dreadful accident. “I’m sorry. I am. But it has nothing to do with a fancy place to lay my head. That—” she pointed at the ramshackle habitation, “is a very small cabin which, according to you, can only sleep two. Two! There is no one here to act as chaperone. What is my future husband to think when he finds out I spent the night alone with the sleigh driver?”

  “If he had any sense, he’d be glad that I made a level-headed decision that kept his bride-to-be safe and alive! Not that I’d accuse Croft of having any sense.” He muttered the last part as he walked back to his horses, but Madeline caught it.

  “What is your problem with Mr. Croft? Clearly you don’t like him. What has he done to you?”

  He kept his eyes on the horse’s harness, heaving a heavy sigh. “Nothing. He has always paid me what I earned. He’s brash, but hasn’t mistreated me, personally. I have no reason not to like him.”

  “And yet you don’t.” She tilted her head, waiting for an answer.

  “Get back under your covers, Miss Barstow, before you let out all the heat.”

  “What heat?” she mumbled as she sat back and pulled the blankets over her. “You let the coal burn out ages ago.”

  ***

  -excerpted from Mai
l Order Regrets, by Julianna Blake, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  If you enjoyed The Brahmin Ball, look for Book 2 of the Brahmin Brides series, coming soon!

  About the Author:

  Julianna Blake is a historical romance author who was born in the wrong century, and enjoys creating worlds where she (and her readers) can walk around in a lovely silk day dress and feel right at home!

  To see all the Julianna Blake books available on Amazon.com, see Amazon’s Julianna Blake page.

  For a complete list of Julianna Blake’s stories, visit

  www.JuliannaBlakeAuthor.blogspot.com

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