My Brother's Bride

by Rachael Anderson

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Twenty-five

  Epilogue

  Author's Notes

  © 2018 Rachael Anderson

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever, whether by graphic, visual, electronic, film, microfilm, tape recording, or any other means, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real. The opinions and views expressed herein belong solely to the author and do not necessarily represent the opinions or views of HEA Publishing, LLC. Permission for the use of sources, graphics, and photos is also solely the responsibility of the author.

  Cover image credit: Ilina Simeonova/Trevillion images

  ISBN: 978-1-941363-24-9

  Published by HEA Publishing

  For My Favorite Kiddos,

  Brighton, Kennedy,

  Devon, & Taycee

  Love you!

  MUSIC PERVADED THE crowded ballroom, carrying couples through the steps of the quadrille, while onlookers clustered around the dancers, talking, laughing, sipping drinks, and observing.

  Morgan Campbell, The Marquess of Brigston, did only the latter. He lingered near a door that opened onto a small balcony, where, every now and again, he’d feel a slight draft. Although it provided some relief from the heat in the room, the open door offered no other boon. This was not the country, and London air could never be described as fresh, not even on Grosvenor Street. Too many horses pranced about, too many bodies filled the streets, and too many unpleasant scents lingered as a result.

  Only one month more, and Morgan could leave his parliamentary duties behind and return to his coastal hometown of Cawley, Hampshire. Most considered the country to be a bore, but Morgan thrived there. The chirping birds, the salty breezes, the peace he felt every time he walked outside—Oakley Grange revitalized him as nowhere else could. It was London that tired him, or at least the endless social obligations. He despised frivolous chatter. It rang in his ears and made his head ache.

  A servant offered Morgan a drink, but he declined, directing his attention towards the middle of the ballroom, where his younger brother, Jasper, danced with a paragon of beauty. Her blue eyes sparkled, her golden hair shone, and her sapphire silk dress glittered with the light of the crystal chandeliers. She moved with natural grace and elegance that bespoke good breeding.

  It was no surprise she had captured his brother’s attention. Jasper had always been drawn to beautiful women, especially those with fair coloring. He called them angelic. He would dance with them, take them driving in Hyde Park, and shower them with pretty posies—at least until his interest waned or was captured by another pair of blue eyes and golden locks. It had been the pattern for years now, ever since Jasper had finished at Eton. With his good looks and charisma, he’d always been able to charm most women.

  Not long ago, their mother had asked Jasper if he planned to settle down at some point. He’d chortled, as though the mere suggestion was laughable, then insisted he had no intention of getting caught in the parson’s noose anytime soon.

  Yet here he was, recently returned from Gretna Green with a wife.

  A wife.

  Jasper had always been rash and impulsive, but this latest move had surprised even Morgan. Elopement? For what purpose, and why this blue-eyed angel over all the others? Two months ago, Jasper hadn’t even known of Miss Abigail Nash’s existence.

  “A shilling for your thoughts,” his mother spoke quietly at his side, startling Morgan. He hadn’t heard her approach.

  She waved a fan in front of her flushed face. The room was becoming unbearably hot, even with the open door.

  Morgan took note of the new lines surrounding his mother’s eyes and mouth and the creases in her forehead. Life had taken a toll on her of late. Ever since the passing of Morgan’s father, the tell-tale signs of age had begun to manifest. In the light, Morgan could see a few gray streaks woven through the rich brown color of her hair.

  She peered at him with an arched brow, patiently waiting for him to answer.

  Morgan turned his attention back to the couple on the dance floor. “I was thinking they make a fine pair.”

  “They do,” she agreed. “He is handsome, and she is quite lovely. Good breeding too, with a large dowry. Her father is on the continent at the moment. I had hoped he would return for the ball, but he sent his regrets. She has been staying with Lord and Lady Knave, who have overseen her launch into society.”

  Morgan nodded, already aware of his new sister-in-law’s circumstances. He’d taken it upon himself to do his own sleuthing, not that it had enlightened him. If anything, what he’d learned only compounded his confusion.

  “Why elope, Mother? They had no reason to. They both have excellent pedigrees, Jasper is well-situated, and she has a sizeable dowry. Neither family would have opposed the match.”

  “Since when has Jasper needed a reason to do anything?” asked his mother wryly. “He probably imbibed too much one evening, decided on a new lark, and convinced the poor girl it would be a grand adventure.”

  “Perhaps.” Morgan had to concede that was the only explanation, but it didn’t explain everything. His brother had always looked upon marriage as entrapment and elopement was not something society smiled upon, even when it came to a darling of the ton like Jasper. Despite his reckless ways, his brother had always valued his reputation.

  There was also Miss Nash to consider. Why agree to the scheme? There had been no settlements negotiated on her behalf or agreements made. Her entire dowry would now belong to her new husband—a man who would spend it at the racetracks, gambling dens, Newmarket, or his tailor’s. Jasper would also see his new wife provided for as well—he did have a heart, after all—but he had no head for business. He wouldn’t care about investing or growing the sum. He would merely spend, spend, spend, and when the money ran dry, as was always the case with him, he’d look to Morgan for more.

  Gads, would his bride be as daft?

  “It’s good the season is nearly over,” said his mother. “By January, their elopement will be nothing more than a distant memory. Hopefully for me as well.”

  Morgan didn’t need to ask the cause for her distress. It stemmed from a fortnight prior, when Jasper had breezed into the dining hall during dinner with a blushing Miss Nash on his arm. He’d announced that the lovely woman at his side should now be addressed as Lady Jasper Campbell. They’d just returned from Gretna Green, he’d said with a laugh, as though he had just returned from a day at the race track with his cronies.

  Jasper hadn’t bothered sending word ahead to prepare his mother, nor had he given anyone even a hint of his intentions. He’d merely disappeared for a few days as he often did, only this time, he didn’t return bearing tales of various exploits and pranks. He’d returned with a wife.

  His mother had remained stoically composed, at least until Jasper and Miss Nash—or rather, Lady Jasper—had retired f
or the evening. Only then did she wring her hands, berate her late husband for leaving her to deal with their ramshackle son alone, and sob on Morgan’s shoulder. He’d comforted her as best he could while silently cursing his brother.

  She’d eventually taken herself off to bed, and when morning came, bless her soul, she’d waltzed into the breakfast parlor with a stiff upper lip and a plan to throw an elaborate ball to celebrate the marriage of her son to Miss Abigail Nash.

  Now here they were, hosting said ball in an effort to show the ton that the Campbell family thought nothing of the elopement and accepted the new Lady Jasper with open arms. From all appearances, it was a smashing success. Friends, family, and acquaintances had come in droves. But it didn’t take a keen observer to notice the majority of onlookers hadn’t come to celebrate. They’d come to speculate.

  Why an elopement? Why Miss Abigail Nash?

  Morgan couldn’t fault their curiosity, not when it mirrored his own.

  “She doesn’t have the glow one might expect from a new bride,” his mother said.

  Morgan peered closer at the couple, realizing that his mother spoke the truth. Although Lady Jasper smiled, laughed, and spoke to those she partnered, there was something forced in her expression. Peculiar that. She had once seemed quite taken with his brother.

  Morgan still remembered the evening they’d met. Jasper had insisted his brother accompany him to Almack’s to appease Sally Jersey, who wasn’t happy with Morgan’s lack of patronage. It had taken a great deal of convincing on Jasper’s part—Morgan despised the top lofty setting—but he’d finally agreed, for no other reason than to quiet his brother. Not ten minutes after they had arrived, Jasper laid eyes on Miss Nash, begged Sally to introduce them, and had danced his first waltz of the evening.

  Miss Nash had glowed then and again later that same evening, when Jasper had asked for a second dance. A few days later, she had blushed prettily when Japser bowed over her hand at Lady Mosley’s musicale and had smiled blissfully a week later during a drive at Hyde Park, when Morgan had come upon the happy couple.

  Looking at her now, however, there was no glimmer about her person. Rather, she appeared as though her mind was preoccupied with some distant, unpleasant memory. She hid it well—Morgan doubted others had noticed—but now that his mother had pointed it out, he could see it plainly.

  She’d probably seen beyond her husband’s charms to the shallowness beneath and was regretting her impulsiveness. Or perhaps she was mourning the loss of a grand wedding. An elopement may have sounded thrilling at one point, but certainly it had lost its allure by now.

  Morgan shook his head. Marriage after only so short an acquaintance and an elopement at that?

  Utter foolishness.

  “Perhaps she is tired,” his mother suggested, her furrowed brow belying her words.

  “I’m sure that’s it,” Morgan agreed, hoping to ease her concerns. Since the passing of his father, she’d had enough burdens to fret over. She didn’t need to worry that her younger son had landed himself in the worst sort of muddle, especially when there was nothing to be done at this point. Lord and Lady Jasper had made their choice. All the family could do now was put on a good face, throw a congratulatory ball, and embrace their new daughter and sister as best they could.

  “She seems sweet,” offered his mother.

  “Yes.”

  “And she has an intelligent look about her. Perhaps she’ll be a steadying influence on him.”

  Morgan had no reply to this. If the former Miss Nash had allowed Jasper to spirit her away to Gretna Green, how steadying or intelligent could she be? From all appearances, they were two peas in a pod—both handsome, impetuous, and foolish.

  His mother examined her eldest son in that shrewd way he had come to loathe. After a moment, she sighed. “At least Jasper has finally married. I wasn’t sure he ever would. Why aren’t you dancing?”

  “I find the quadrille tedious.”

  “The cotillion as well?” she asked, naming the dance that had come before the quadrille, which he’d also chosen to sit out.

  “Yes.”

  “Surely there is at least one young lady present who interests you.”

  Morgan withheld an eye roll. They’d had this conversation before. “I made an effort at the beginning of the season, you know I did. I danced with many young ladies, called on several, and even took a few riding.”

  “I’m well aware,” she said.

  “Then you should also know that none of them captured my fancy.”

  “One might have, if you’d given her half a chance.”

  Morgan pushed away from the wall, not wishing to discuss his courting habits any longer. He fiddled with the cuff of his sleeve as he scanned the crowd, his gaze stopping on Miss Parker and her mischievous eyes. She grinned, encouraging him to approach with the promise of a diverting flirtation.

  “Perhaps Miss Parker will partner me for the next dance. Will that meet with your approval, Mother?” Morgan knew full well it would not. The widowed father of Miss Parker had attempted to court his mother while she was still in half mourning, and she’d yet to forgive the impertinence.

  “You’re punishing me,” she said with a scowl.

  “No, I am reminding you why I have not settled on a bride as of yet. Miss Parker is the most interesting debutante I have become acquainted with this season.”

  “Fiddlesticks.”

  Morgan pulled his gloves tighter around his fingers and lowered his voice to a murmur. “She did not attempt to court you, Mother. Her father did.”

  “At her encouragement, or so I’ve been told.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “You’ve never been one to listen to gossip.”

  “It’s not gossip when it comes from a close friend who isn’t prone to embellishment.”

  Morgan refrained from pointing out that his mother was still young and beautiful. It was only natural for a man like Mr. Parker to wish to court her. Granted, he ought to have waited out her mourning period, but worse crimes had been committed.

  “Why would Miss Parker encourage her father to court you?” asked Morgan.

  The look his mother gave him said he should already know the answer. “Isn’t it obvious? If I were to marry her father, it would place her in a better position to sink her clutches into you. It’s no secret she has set her cap at you. Look at her now. She has kept one eye on you all evening.”

  Morgan glanced at Miss Parker again. The moment their gazes locked, her eyes crinkled flirtatiously, only now her smile appeared more cunning than mischievous.

  Morgan’s neckcloth felt restrictive all of a sudden, so he tugged on it and took a step closer to the door.

  “Ah, see?” said his mother in an amused tone. “You don’t wish to be entrapped any more than I do.”

  Morgan forced his hand back to his side, thinking his mother was far too perceptive. Over the past few years, the seasons had begun to feel like a game of chess, with mothers and daughters making calculated moves to break through his defenses and capture him. It unnerved him. He had no intention of marrying a conniving woman. He wanted someone real. Someone he could trust. Someone who enjoyed his company as much as he did hers.

  He had to hand it to Miss Parker, though. She had been more subtle than the rest. Up until now, Morgan had considered her to be a diverting dance partner, nothing more. Now he knew better.

  The quadrille came to an end, and Morgan made a quick decision. “Perhaps I will request a dance from my new sister-in-law instead.”

  “How very cowardly of you,” teased his mother.

  “Not cowardly. Strategic,” he said before moving forward to claim the hand of a woman who wouldn’t be out to ensnare him. How she’d managed to snare his brother was the question.

  As he approached, Lord and Lady Knave did as well. They were an attractive pair who’d endured their own share of gossip—something about Lady Knave stealing her sister’s intended or Lord Knave marrying the younger Gifford daughter
because he’d been spurned by the elder? Morgan didn’t know which version was closer to the truth, nor did he care. However their union came about, it seemed a happy one. He simply wanted to know why they hadn’t kept a closer eye on their charge.

  “Lord and Lady Knave.” Morgan nodded to both in turn. “I see you are acquainted with my new sister-in-law.”

  Lady Knave tucked her arm through Lady Jasper’s. “Your brother has absconded with my dearest friend, sir, and I cannot decide if I should be pleased or irate with him.”

  “Jasper has that effect on most, I’m afraid,” said Morgan wryly.

  Jasper took his wife’s hand and brought it to his lips. “You should only ever be pleased, Lady Knave. I adore this woman and could not wait another moment to make her mine. How fortunate am I that she agreed.”

  Lady Jasper blushed prettily. “I am the fortunate one, my lord.” Her words were spoken without flippancy, but there was also some hesitancy, as though she meant them but didn’t at the same time. How very peculiar.

  “Lord Brigston, if you have come to request a dance from Lady Jasper, you are too late,” Lady Knave said, interrupting his thoughts. “My husband has already secured her hand for the minuet.”

  This seemed to surprise both her husband and Lady Jasper, but they were quick to mask it behind smiles.

  Jasper didn’t seem to notice the exchange. He took the news good-naturedly, tucking his wife’s arm possessively through his own. “I’m not sure I can part with my wife, even for you, Lord Knave. Must you dance with him, my dear?” His eyes twinkled as he gazed down at her. She was a head shorter than him, which meant she would only be a half a head shorter than Morgan. His brother had always had the larger personality, and at some point during their adolescent years, he had gained the larger stature as well.

  “It isn’t fashionable to dote on one’s wife, my lord,” said Lady Jasper.

  “It isn’t fashionable to elope either, yet here we are.”

  “Which is why we should not give the gossips more to discuss.” She gently retracted her arm and curtsied to Lord Knave. “I would be honored to dance with you, my lord.”