Just before they reached the front, Papa spoke in her ear. “Louisa, I don’t think I can do what you ask me to do. I can’t. Your mother—“ he began, and broke off abruptly.
Louisa glanced at her father from under her veil. His eyes reflected something like anguish and longing, a rare moment of emotional rawness from a man known for being sanguine. Her heart lurched, and she patted his arm. “It’s all right, Papa. Thomas and I will take care of each other. Now it’s your turn. Go and find happiness with Mary. Mama would want you to be happy.”
Papa swallowed hard and gave a curt nod. As they drew close to Thomas, the last strains of Mary’s song drifted down from the choir loft. Papa handed her to her beloved, his head slightly bowed.
“Take care of her, my boy,” he murmured. “She’s a treasure.”
Louisa gave Papa a quick peck on the cheek and then took Thomas’s hand. He smiled at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
“Well done,” he whispered as they turned to face the altar. “A grand way to start our adventure.”
Louisa smiled and clasped his hand more tightly. What an exciting exploration her life would be. With Thomas by her side, there was nothing she could not do.
Lily George
Christian romance author Lily George drew up devouring the books in her mother's bookstore, and wrote for three hours each night after her family went to sleep. But she never dreamed that anyone would actually want to read her writing until she came up with the plot for her first inspirational Regency romance, Captain of Her Heart.
That book was handpicked by Love Inspired senior editor Melissa Endlich as the overall winner of the MARA Fiction from the Heartland contest, one of the few times an inspirational romance novel has swept past the secular romances in every category.
Lily George's characters represent the flip side of the Regency era. Instead of lords and ladies, George's characters are commoners--hardworking, plain-spoken individuals who often face insurmountable obstacles in their pursuits of love and quests for faith.
Though her career as a Christian romance author came completely by surprise, George has no plans to slow down. "I'll keep writing clean romance novels as long as people want to read them," she vows. "I love writing books that you can share with your grandmother and your daughter."
Lily George’s website: www.lilygeorge.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LilyGeorgeAuthor
Twitter: @lilygeorge2
Stealing the Duchess
Marie Higgins
Copyright © 2015 by:
Marie Higgins
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Cover Design by Sheri McGathy
This book was built at IndieWrites.com. Visit us on Facebook.
Acknowledgement
I want to thank Aileen Fish for suggesting the idea of a wallflower Regency romance. From there, this story took off. I want to also thank her for helping with edits, along with Sarah Baker, Carol Spralding, and always, my good friend Veronica Mesia.
Chapter 1
North Devon, England, 1812
Heavy footsteps creaked on the warped floor in the hallway, and the terrifying sound pierced right through her. Clutching the saber in her shaky hands, she stood behind the closed door in her bedchambers. She would not let them take her without a fight. It didn’t matter that her heartbeat pounded so fast she could scarcely breathe, or that her limbs shook hard enough to break her bones, she was determined to win.
Mr. Woodland—the handsome man she’d met yesterday—was the blame for the turmoil going on right now, she just knew it. He’d been too charming, too sweet, and literally swept her off her feet. She’d always known how to talk to men, but this man had seemed out of her area of expertise for some reason. Now she surmised his purpose. He’d wanted to get close to her…but for what, she wished she knew.
Why hadn’t she seen his trickery through his sugar-coated words? But now it was too late. She was fearful for her own safety.
The wind outside whipped around the small cottage where she’d lived since she was a child, but tonight, the sound did not comfort her. Every member of her family was dead, killed by the murderous hand of the man who’d charmed her so abruptly.
Was she next?
Alexandria Templeton stared at the passage she’d just written and nibbled on her bottom lip. As she thought about the plot—or what she’d plotted so far—this passage didn’t make much sense. Why had the woman’s family died? And more importantly, why were these men trying to kill off her main character?
She set her quill down on the desk and blew out a frustrated breath. Once again, she’d started a story before she had time to really think about what was going to happen to her characters…and why. Hadn’t she learned by now not to write before she was ready? In the four years she’d been writing stories, she should have learned this lesson by now.
Closing her eyes, she stretched her neck and rolled her head from side to side, releasing the tension building in her muscles. As she fluttered her eyelids open, she gazed out the nearest window. The sky was so blue, and from the closest tree that stood so still, it was obvious there wasn’t a late-spring wind in the air today, either. This would be the perfect weather to ride her horse, Buttercup.
She scooted her chair away from the desk and stood. She placed the lid on her inkwell and the quill back in its cup before hurrying to change into her riding habit. Riding around the estate on days like this really cleared her head and made her think better. Especially when working on her next mystery novel.
She donned her riding habit with the lavender short-waist jacket, black skirt, and matching hat. Fitting her hands into the purple gloves, she left her room. As she walked down the hall, the door to her sister’s room opened and out stepped Alexandria’s brother-in-law, Walter Hinsdale, newly appointed Duke of Linden. A frown creased his expression as he dug his slender fingers in his bushy blonde hair and scratched his head.
Her heart squeezed with emotion. Her sister must still be quite ill. Her brother-in-law had worn that expression for the last five days. She prayed nothing life-threatening was wrong with her sister, and yet Walter wouldn’t keep Alexandria informed as she wished to be, and he wouldn’t allow her to visit Joanna, either.
Walter lifted his head and his gaze locked with Alexandria’s. His glare pierced right through her as he gave her a nod and proceeded up the hall. She had never seen him smile except when he gazed upon her sister. It was too bad he didn’t do more of that because he was a better looking man when he was happy.
She really wished he would talk to her more. It irritated her that he was so secretive about her sister’s condition. Fisting her hands, she grumbled under her breath. This time, she wouldn’t let him stop her from seeing her sister…even if she had to sneak behind his back to do it.
Taking slow steps, she waited for him to disappear into his study and close the door before she turned and hurried to her sister’s bedchamber. She opened the door slowly, hoping the hinges wouldn’t squeak like the door to her bedroom did. Thankfully, no sound came. As she stepped into the room, she held her breath and waited for the floorboards to groan as they did in her own chambers. Once again, she was relieved when silence greeted her.
Joanna lay on her bed, her arms resting outside of the many blankets covering her, displaying a faded pink gown with a ruffled neckline, fluffy sleeves, and worn pink ribbons around the wrists. Joanna’s blonde hair—a shade darker than Alexandria’s—was braided and hung over her left shoulder as frays of hair came out of the style. Her pale face contrasted greatly with her gown.
No candles lit the room, but a small amount of light glimmered through the curtains on the windows, bringing in a small amount of brightness. She moved her gaze from the bed to the other furnishings; the armoires, two tables, two sofas, and three Persian rugs. Her sister had such lov
ely, expensive furniture. Although, Alexandria and Joanna had never suffered poverty as children, they were not used to seeing such luxuries. Walter made certain his wife was happy—and made to look like a queen. Too bad Joanna didn’t look like one now. In fact, she nearly resembled someone who was on her deathbed.
Alexandria frowned, hating to see her older sister this way. Taking soft steps as not to awaken her, she crept to the bed and stopped beside it. Carefully, she placed her hand over Joanna’s. Startled, her sister jumped and her eyes flew open, her gaze landing on Alexandria. Within seconds, a tired smile touched her sister’s lips.
“Xandria, you have finally come.”
“Oh, dear,” Alexandria panicked. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Nonsense.” Joanna slowly shook her head. “I have wanted to see you.”
“Indeed? Then why was your husband keeping me away?”
“He was? Are you certain?”
“Of course, I’m certain. He specifically instructed me not to go into your bedchamber and disturb you.”
“When did he say that?” Joanna’s eyebrows creased.
“On the first day you became ill.”
Joanna chuckled lightly, but Alexandria could tell her sister struggled to do this.
“Oh, Xandria, he probably meant you shouldn’t disturb me on that particular day. I’m getting better, I assure you. If you had only said something to him, I believe he would have allowed you to visit me.”
“Don’t be too sure,” Alexandria mumbled as she rolled her eyes. Although her sister had only been married a little over six months, Alexandria knew her brother-in-law’s mood swings and how uncommunicative he was.
Joanna lifted her hand, placed it over Alexandria’s, and gently squeezed. “You need not be shy with him, my dear. He’s your brother-in-law, not a stranger off the street.” She took a ragged breath and cleared her throat. “I realize you are reluctant to talk to men, but Walter is different. Truly, I wish you would think of him as family.”
Alexandria would rather not. Besides, if she had to think of him as family, why didn’t he think of her the same way? Not once did he try to go out of his way to talk to her or get to know her. “I shall try,” she answered in a soft voice.
“Oh, Xandria, please don’t fret. If only you’d talk to men the way the characters in your stories do, then you wouldn’t be considered a wallflower. For once, you need to put yourself in your character’s role and talk to a man.” Her grin lifted one side of her mouth higher than the other. “I think you’d be surprised how easy it is.”
Alexandria shrugged. “Perhaps that’s the reason I enjoy writing so much. It’s because I can be a different person in my stories.”
“Just pretend you are one of your heroines. I’m sure that would work.”
“Maybe.” Alexandria took a deep breath and slowly released it. “So tell me, are you truly feeling better? You’re not just saying that to calm my nerves?”
Joanna nodded. “I’m gradually feeling better. The doctor assures me I’ll be out of bed by next week.”
“I hope so. I do miss our talks.”
Joanna’s gaze skimmed over Alexandria’s attire and she arched an eyebrow. “Are you going riding?”
She patted her high neck collar. “Yes. I was on my way when I saw your husband leave the room. That’s when I decided to sneak in and see you.”
“Are you by chance, having problems with your story? Usually you only ride when this happens.”
Alexandria chuckled. “You know me so well.”
“Indeed, I do.” Joanna’s eyelids drooped and she yawned. “Go and ride now so I can rest. Return to me tonight. I’ll be stronger then.”
Alexandria bent and kissed her sister on her forehead. Although her heart still twisted with pain, seeing her sister in such a weakened condition, she was relieved to have a chance to speak with her. Yet…what was really wrong with her sister? Even Joanna didn’t mention why she was ill.
The moment Alexandria stepped out of the house, the sun hit her face, and she squinted from the brightness. Blinking, she adjusted her vision before proceeding to the stable. Along with Walter’s Dukedom came some fine horses. Several Arabians, a few Shetlands, two Clydesdales, and her favorite—the only Highland pony—Buttercup. Never before had she seen a horse as beautiful as she. The beige coloring of her body blended well with the darker brown of her mane.
As she waited for the stable boy to saddle Buttercup, Alexandria glanced out across the estate. Walter was a very fortunate man, indeed, when he inherited such a grand piece of property. The circumstance in which he’d acquired the dukedom wasn’t very fortunate, though, since Walter’s uncle, the Third Duke of Linden, and two cousins—Forbes and Julian Stratford—all died within a few months of each other. The duke and his oldest son, Forbes, died of what was assumed to be the plague, even though it hadn’t struck anyone else on the estate. Julian Stratford, however, died in battle. She’d heard that he had been promoted to a Major only three months before he was killed in the Napoleonic War.
Walter had married Joanna two months before he inherited the dukedom. Thankfully, he also allowed Alexandria to live with them since her parents had died two years hence, and she had no other place to call home.
The sound of floorboards in the stable groaning beneath heavy footsteps nearby shook her from her thoughts as her brother-in-law marched toward her. His expression was stern as he looked at her. “There you are. May I have a word, please?”
Gulping, she nodded and stepped away from the horse toward Walter. Joanna had wanted Alexandria to act like one of the heroines from her stories, but right now, she felt like a coward as she forced herself to face her brother-in-law.
“Yes?” she asked in a squeaked voice.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I’ve decided to find you a husband. You are well past the marrying age, and if we wait any longer, men will not find you a worthy mate. So starting tomorrow, I will be contacting several of my acquaintances to see who would be willing to take you off my hands.”
She inhaled sharply. Clasping her hands together, she held them against her bosom. Take me off your hands? His rude words stung her just as much as a slap across the face would have. How dare he! Could he truly do something so despicable? Yet, he was her guardian, therefore, he could.
Tears burned behind her eyelids and she blinked to keep them at bay. She dared not show her frustration in front of him. Then again, if she did, it would be the first time in history she’d act like that in front of a man.
“I—I understand,” she answered in a whisper.
“Splendid.” He nodded. “That’s all I wanted to say. You can be about your ride now.” He flipped his hand through the air, turned and marched back toward the house. The rolls over his waist and legs jiggled in the same rhythm.
She hurried back to the horse as her eyes stung with tears. The stable boy assisted her on top of Buttercup, and as soon as she grasped the reins, she kicked her heels into the animal’s sides and urged the horse into a run. As she guided the horse away from the house, she allowed the tears to break free and spill down her face until her vision blurred.
Her heart broke to pieces knowing there wasn’t anything her sister could do about this. If Walter wanted Alexandria out of his house and married to one of his acquaintances, it would happen. After all, he was the duke and people would bow to his command.
None of this was fair. She was shy around men, and she always would be, so naturally, she’d not be able to convince them that she would make a good wife…or a bad one. Not only that, she wouldn’t be able to get to know the man before he married her. Therefore, how would she know if she was getting a decent husband or not?
When it became too hard to see, she stopped her horse just inside a group of trees. Leaning her face against Buttercup’s mane, she sobbed harder. What could she do to stop this? What could she possibly say to Walter to make him change his mind? Then again, it sounded like he didn�
�t want the younger sister to his wife living in his house at all.
His words buzzed through her head viciously, churning her stomach. I will be contacting several of my acquaintances to see who would be willing to take you off my hands. Take you off my hands… Off my hands…
From deeper inside the cluster of trees, she thought she’d heard the snort of another horse. Sucking in her breath, she whipped her head toward the direction of the sound. Since tears still filled her eyes, making it hard to see, she wiped the moisture from them. Immediately, a man came rushing toward her.
She blinked again, doubting what she saw. Before she could react, the man’s large hands reached for her waist and gripped her tightly.
“What do you think—” she spat, but her breath was ripped from her lungs as he yanked her off from Buttercup.
Thankfully, he didn’t let her drop to the ground. His arms of steel wound around her so tightly it was impossible to wiggle free. She slammed the back of her head against his chest repeatedly, hoping that would make him release her, but pain shot through her skull faster.
“Let me go,” she cried out, struggling harder.
“I’m sorry, Duchess, but I cannot do that.”
It struck her odd that he’d call her Duchess, yet his tone of voice almost sounded sarcastic, so perhaps he was saying it to be mean.
He pulled her into the wooded area a little more, and she screamed. The sound must have startled Buttercup, because the horse jumped and ran off. Her heart sank. What in heaven’s name was this man trying to accomplish? She screamed again, but her voice sounded hollow and scratchy.
Sweet Summer Kisses Page 25