Cora shook her head and stifled a giggle. Frederic entered the room and planted a wet kiss on her cheek.
"Not to sound upset, but what are you doing here?"
"I had to see you. This family-imposed separation two weeks before the wedding has been driving me crazy."
She placed her palm flat on his chest and studied his face. "Me, too. But we won't have to endure it much longer. Come tomorrow we'll be on our way to New York to live."
"True. But can I just say I wish we would have married there. All this traveling just for the wedding–"
"Now if we'd married there then the entire family would have stayed for weeks under your roof and we would never have gotten rid of them. This way we get to leave when we want."
"Hmm, good point." He twirled a lock of her hair around his finger. "So are you ready to become Mrs. St. Martin?"
"I don't know, I might have to get back to you on that one." She moved as though to pull away but he tugged her into an embrace.
"Don't know, huh?"
He kissed her. The world moved beneath her feet and she held tight to his shirt collar. As soon as he released her, she felt dizzy with pleasure.
"You look like you enjoyed that." He smiled with pride.
"Immensely, can you promise to do it again?"
He laughed. "Most definitely."
Amelia entered the room and clucked like a mother hen. "You get out. You can see her at the ceremony."
Frederic saluted and entered the hallway. "Until we meet again."
Cora winked and he walked away knowing that this time their separation was only temporary.
Author's Note
Thanks so much for taking the time to read the third and final installment in the Southern Hearts series. I hope that you've enjoyed meeting the ladies from Louisiana and following their journey.
Recently a friend read Cora and she asked me whatever happened to Josh? Was he going to get a story? So I thought it about and Josh does receive an ending, although maybe not the one you would expect. If you're interested in knowing what happens to Josh, then check out Irving, The Board, book seven. Although it is part of a series Irving can be enjoyed alone.
After this note I have included an excerpt from Irving, as well as an excerpt from my non-traditional regency romance, The Ruse, and the first novella in The Board, Maralie.
If you'd like to discover more of my writing you can check out my website at www.feliciarogersauthor.weebly.com. Also follow my Amazon author page to receive alerts when I release a new novel. Thanks again for reading!
Excerpt from Irving, The Board, book 7
Prologue: Destiny
August 1873
Irving rubbed his wet cheeks. Katie was a beautiful bride, and Daniel was a lucky man. He turned away from the wedding proceedings. Maude fluttered a fan to hide her tiny wave. He shifted his gaze again.
On a distant hillside, a stranger sat rigid atop a Palomino horse. Irving narrowed his eyes. Would he ever stop looking over his shoulder? Probably not. The past always had a way of catching up to you, even when you ran from it.
The crowd erupted into a chorus of wild cheers as Daniel and Katie were announced as husband and wife. Irving averted his attention to the couple and allowed his lips to twitch upward. He still couldn't believe the ornery Wilson brother would become Eden's Hollow's new minister. Just like sometimes he couldn't believe he was the town's physician. Life had thrown him for a loop.
"Irvy?"
Irving cringed at Maude's shrill voice. The spinster had been assisting him at the hospital since she'd responded to Sheriff Tavers' mail order bride ad but arrived after Darla had already won Derrick's heart.
She'd stayed in town and now she had her sights set on him. He wished he knew how to tell her he wasn't interested.
"Oh, there you are. I brought you some plum pudding."
"Thanks." He said not turning to look at her.
"It was a lovely ceremony, don't you think?"
"Yes." Don't encourage her.
She sighed. "Maybe one day that will be me."
"I'm sure during the next Board picks…" He let the words fade away hoping she would take the hint.
"Oh, yeah. I'm sure." She chewed her lip, looked up at him, and batted her thin lashes. The severe bun pulled her hair tight until it exposed her scalp. She palmed her chin then tapped her foot to the music performed by Ben and Vanessa Rivers. "That Ben is so dreamy. I hear his literary career has expanded into song writing."
"He is talented." Irving sipped at his drink.
"And his wife's voice! It is divine."
"She is quite the performer."
"And to think Eden's Hollow has a famous lawman residing here. I heard tell that Reuben Wilson captured more notorious criminals than half the lawmen in our state!"
The song's tempo increased and his heart matched its rhythm.
"You don't like me, do you?"
Blood pumped loudly between his ears until he couldn't hear.
Maude scuffed her booted foot along the dry ground. "It's all right. Not many people do." She started to move away and he reached for her arm.
"Maude, I'm sorry. You're a wonderful woman and I'm sure you'll make someone a wonderful wife, but I fear I'm not in a place to accept a woman."
Her eyes widened and she placed a trembling hand over her chest. "Are you married?"
"No. It is just, my life is complicated."
She relaxed her face and her arm fell slack to her side. "I know what this is, a way to get rid of me without hurting my feelings. Why don't you just try being honest?"
She hitched her skirts and stomped away. He was left with his arm outstretched.
Paul Poppins, the new sheriff's deputy and son to the boarding house owner Patricia, approached and tsked under his breath. "Looks like M-Maude is m-mad."
"I'm afraid you're right."
"Too bad about her not getting m-married to the sheriff."
Irving cocked a brow.
"I–I mean too b-bad for M-Maude. She seems like a fine woman."
Irving scratched a spot between his eyes and said, "Perhaps you should ask her to dance."
Paul shook his head. "No, I c-couldn't. What about my st-stutter?"
"I'm sure she would find it endearing."
"You think so?"
"Maude is a kind soul. Talk to her."
Paul hitched his belt loops and sauntered over to Maude. She eyed him for only a moment before they were strutting across the yard.
****
Chloe wrung out the rag and patted her pa's fevered brow. He grabbed her hand and squeezed.
"You promise me that when I'm gone you'll find him and put him in his place…six feet under." Her pa fell back against the sweat drenched pillows. "Your brother was a good boy. He was just following orders. The law had no right to shoot 'em 'cause he's too slow."
She didn't respond as he continued to rant against the audacity of a man who'd shoot a boy. Chloe agreed to her pa's demands. When he passed she would most definitely seek her brother's murderer.
A knock resounded on the door and she rushed to answer, but no one was there. She closed the door and locked it with the bar. Since her pa's illness, neighborhood boys had tormented her. She would not be enticed to leave the safety of her home. She knew better. Her community was not one of peace and harmony.
She returned to her pa's sickbed. The sound of rattling had ceased. He was gone.
****
Chloe sheltered beneath the ancient oak as her father was lowered into the ground. The community of thieves, cutthroats, and criminal associates gathered around. A defunct priest, removed for his multiple premarital affairs, gave a rousing speech about her pa's virtues. The owner of the brothel sang a mutilated version of a Christian song. The service ended and Chloe remained statuesque and stoic.
"I'm sorry about your pa."
Chloe nodded as another approached and offered similar condolences.
Pretty Penny Periwinkle, a singer
and woman of ill-repute, wept and patted a handkerchief to her heavily rouged cheeks. The priest wrapped his arm around her shoulders in a quick hug.
Von Wright, the mayor of their fine town, appeared at her elbow. "Miss Colson?"
She faced him.
"Miss Colson, I'm sorry about your pa, but I gotta ask... are you staying in town?"
Chloe understood his question. Was she staying with the community of malefactors or was she going out into the real world? Most of the people who left were caught, tried, and hanged. But the biggest concern was that those who left ran the possibility of revealing the hidden city. Only once had they been found by outsiders, and that was how they wanted it to remain.
"I must leave," she stated.
"You know the rules."
"Yes."
"I'll see you at dawn."
"I'll be ready."
Chloe waited until everyone left. She said her goodbyes over her pa's grave and took her time returning home. She packed one bag of belongings and settled on the sofa. Her eyelids didn't drop even as the sun rose over the distant mountain peaks.
True to his word, Von waited outside her door at dawn. He blindfolded her and held her hand until they exited the village and the only home she'd ever known. The next thing she would see would be the road that would lead her to her destiny.
Excerpt of The Ruse
Chapter One
February 1802
London, England…
Luke Andrews, Baron of Stockport, waited patiently in the Elis Wold library. Lord Zedekiah Elis, Viscount of Elis Wold, would attend him at any moment, or so he’d been told.
Baubles lined floor-to-ceiling shelves and Luke perused them. An enormous amount of the items represented were dolls.
Luke plucked one from the shelf. The intricately painted figure sported a rouge mouth, bright blue eyes with dark lashes, and a crown of gold atop its overly large head. The doll back in place, he studied the rest of the collection. Their vivid colors and disproportioned bodies attempted to force a person to find them attractive. Silly frippery! What sort of family collects such absurdities?
Luke placed his hands in his pockets and felt for the box. Coins bumped his fingers and he brushed them aside. Rough edges touched his hand and he sighed with relief. Everything was in place.
Restless, he prowled past the crowded shelves to the window. At least the Elis grounds were well maintained and not full of ridiculous topiaries.
Luke sighed and turned from the window. Nothing could hold his attention for very long, not with the impending meeting ahead of him. His wandering feet took him to the fireplace. A fire roared, yet he experienced a slight chill. He stroked the hearth’s uneven stones, the warmth of the rock permeating his palm.
The fact that Lord Elis had not upgraded to a coal fireplace with a scuttle was a bit discouraging.
For lack of anything else to do, Luke looked for wood and was shocked to find the wood box empty.
He lifted his hand to pull the bell rope. The door opened and feeling irrationally guilty, he dropped his hands to his sides.
An elderly man, with a short crop of graying hair, a beak nose, and a slight stoop entered. He didn’t stop to say hello, but rather continued to a seat behind the rather substantial desk.
Once seated, he steepled his fingers and studied Luke. The appraisal caused a frightful set of nerves and Luke found himself unable to stand. He took a seat across from the desk and waited.
“So you are the great Baron of Stockport, Luke Andrews. My daughter Zilla has told me much about you.” Luke opened his mouth to speak but was promptly interrupted. “I am Zedekiah Elis, better known as Zede to my friends, but as of yet you are not my friend.”
Luke cocked a brow, shifted in the seat, and crossed his legs. Irritating dullard.
“I don’t know if you realize, but Zilla is barely ten and seven. She is my only child, and yes, I’ve held onto her longer than I should but under such circumstances that is to be expected. Naturally, the man she marries will inherit my estate, and therefore, the choice she makes for a husband is important to me.”
“Of course.” Inheritance of the estate is the only reason I, or anyone else, would willingly sit across from you and suffer your condescension.
Lord Elis frowned and continued, “As I was saying, I will not take Zilla’s mate choice lightly. There will be at least a year of courtship, perhaps longer.” Lord Elis stood and walked around Luke. He tapped his fingers on the fireplace mantel sharply. The unexpected, imperative sound startled Luke and he swung around. “I believe she primarily fancies you because of your title.” Lord Elis paused but Luke didn’t react, unwilling to give the insolent cur the satisfaction. He resettled behind the desk. “For that reason, before I settle on one man, I will require that Zilla attend several more balls with myself in attendance. Do you understand?”
Luke nodded. He understood. The viscount thought himself worthy to speak to a baron like a child and to watch over him like one, as well.
“Good day to you.”
Luke stood, bowed, and exited the library. Greeted by an empty hallway, he punched his fist into his hand and muttered, “Blast it all.”
The meeting with Lord Elis, which he had considered a mere formality, had turned into a formal task where he would now be expected to woo a woman he wasn’t even sure he wanted.
Impatience grew with waiting and he tapped his boots against the shiny mosaic floor. A footman dressed in full orange and flamboyant green livery rushed forward and promptly escorted him to his horse, led from the mews by a groom. Luke craned his neck and stared up at the looming red brick manse. He felt like a carriage had run over him. The meeting had been a complete failure, of that he was sure.
Atop his horse, he set out for his townhouse. A minimal staff kept the house in working order. He only used it when visiting London and occasionally rented it to other families.
The home sported whitewash and cheerfully sparkling windows decorated with flower boxes. Manicured shrubs and multi-colored primroses bloomed along the walk.
Beneath the shadows of his home, he dismounted and handed the horse’s reins to the stable hand.
“Thank you, Michael.”
Michael nodded and led the horse away.
The horse was in good hands. Luke turned on his heel and walked inside. He removed his hat, coat, and gloves and handed them to the footman.
“Thank you, James.”
The butler stepped forward. “Was your afternoon productive, my lord?”
“Humph.”
“That well, my lord.”
“I’m afraid, Charles, that the viscount is not as willing to marry off his daughter as I had been led to believe.” Luke paused then asked, “Were there any calls while I was out?”
“No, your lordship.”
“Thank you. I’ll be in the parlor if I’m needed.”
“Very good, my lord.”
In the parlor, Luke cut a half-sheet of paper and composed a letter to his half-brother.
Chadwick,
I fear that my hope of conducting my business quickly has been thwarted. I will stay in London for only a month longer, at which time I will return. Remember that Jarvis and Roland are your greatest assets. Continue to run the estate in a manner pleasing to our late father, and I will return as soon as is prudent.
Your brother,
Luke
Luke sealed the letter and directed it to the Stockport estate. He leaned back in his chair and tapped the tip of the quill to his forehead.
Luke reviewed the visit with Viscount Elis. If the gent didn’t have a man in mind to marry Zilla, then Luke was mother to a group of piglets. Any father would have seen Luke’s pursuit of his daughter as a welcome petition.
Maybe the viscount had been scorned before. Perhaps he feared Luke would mismanage the funds belonging to the Elis estate. But why would that be? Stockport had flourished under his hand.
A sigh rent the air as he pondered the possibilities. H
e straightened in his chair. What if he attended Elis’ planned balls, and encouraged his friends to attend and tout his finer qualities? By making himself more available in increments, he would become more familiar and thereby more acceptable. Excited by his plan, he raced downstairs.
Rosabel Smith tirelessly worked in the kitchen. Upon her husband’s death last year, she had agreed to take the job of housekeeper and cook in his beautiful townhouse. A surge of affection for her willingness to assume duties beyond her writ filled him as he studied her from the kitchen entrance. She hummed and bounced as she kneaded a mound of fresh dough. Her lace cap joggled and tendrils of graying hair escaped. Her gray uniform sashayed across the floor.
He strode into the room and whistled.
Mrs. Smith flashed a smile in his direction. “Ah, your lordship, how are you this fine day?”
“I’ve been better.”
She laughed and shook her head. “Girl troubles, my lord?”
Luke laughed. “I guess you could say that.”
“You know my rules; I will always treat you like family. So if you need an ear, your lordship, I wouldn’t mind bending mine to you.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Smith, but what I need is a list of balls for the month.”
“A full month, eh? I personally am not on the circuit,” she paused and shook her head at her own joke, before adding, “but I’m sure if I ask the upstairs maid, Paulina, she will know.”
“Thank you.” He leaned over her shoulder. “What’s for supper?”
Mrs. Smith tapped him on the nose with her floury finger. “If you must know, your lordship, you are having chicken, potatoes, fresh bread, and a sweet.”
“Hmm, sounds good.” He grabbed an apple off the table, tossed it in the air, caught it, and took a bite.
Mrs. Smith shooed him from the room and he headed upstairs to search his wardrobe.
Cora (Southern Hearts Book 3) Page 19