Mine, Forever and Always: Historical Romance Novella
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Mine, Forever and Always
By Tammy L. Bailey
Just shy of fifteen years old, and during a fake and impromptu wedding ceremony, LILY SCOTT married her best friend's brother, HENRY DALTON.
It seemed harmless enough until he leaned in and whispered to her his true feelings, amorous words she has been unable to forget: Now you’re mine, forever and always.
Unfortunately, growing up pulls them apart and transforms Henry into a pompous scoundrel. When they meet again at a house party hosted by Henry’s sister, will Henry remember his once faithful promise to Lily?”
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental. Mine, Forever and Always COPYRIGHT © 2017 by Tammy L. Bailey
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author, Tammy L. Bailey, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Cover Art provide by RomanceNovelCovers.com. Cover created by Tammy L. Bailey
A Word of Thanks
My Family
My Friends
My Readers
Kathy Sloe for always being willing to read and review my projects.
Heather Belleguelle of Behest Indie Novelist Services.
Table of Contents
Mine, Forever and Always
Copyright
A Word of Thanks
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
To the Reader
About The Author
More Books by the Author
Chapter One
(London, 1816)
“Please, Lily! You are much more romantic than I am, and so you must write the letter to Mr. Waverley for me! With this, he is sure to know my affections are real, and he will ask my parents for my hand in marriage.”
Lily blinked at Jane, both surprised to hear about this Mr. Waverley and amused that Jane Dalton, the most prolific matchmaker of their generation, thought Lily more romantic.
“Otherwise, I will be forced to marry a man who is fifteen years my senior with more hair popping out of his ears and nose than is growing on the top of his round head.”
Lily sighed, the conversation reminding her of her own unfortunate circumstances regarding marrying well at one and twenty. Although the man her parents had in mind for her was handsome, there was something about his character that set her on edge.
“I’m truly sorry, Jane, but I don’t write love letters. I write plays. Besides, how can I pour my heart out to a complete stranger? It wouldn’t be genuine.”
Her friend scoffed and turned toward the casement window, her bottom lip protruding over her upper lip. Jane’s lithe profile was that of a woman who surely had no want of attention. Striking with a fair complexion, cornflower-blue eyes, and soft light brown curls, she was the envy of every woman between sixteen and sixty. Her appearance contrasted with Lily’s forest green eyes, olive skin, and dark mahogany hair. Lily had often wondered whether she would be more memorable if she possessed softer features like Jane’s.
“When have I ever asked a favor of you?” Jane sniffed, a handkerchief lifted to her pert nose for dramatic effect.
Lily narrowed her gaze, recalling the day when Jane, bored out of her romantic mind, decided Henry needed to take a wife. Lily, two years younger and infatuated with the heir to Hadley, had agreed to play his young bride in the spirited ceremony.
What she’d thought was a sweet diversion changed her life, and not for the better. Unrehearsed, Henry said his impromptu vows before shifting a peck on the cheek to a firm kiss on her lips. What he uttered next changed her entire world. Now you’re mine, forever and always.
“Pompous,” Lily mumbled. Not only had her “husband” turned out to be an infamous libertine in the seven years since their wedding, but he’d also forgotten his words and, along with it, her name, introducing her to one of his lady friends as “Miss Prescott” last summer. Oh, Lily supposed, children had succumbed to sillier pastimes through the centuries. She only wished she’d known to guard her heart before engaging in one of them.
“Please, Lily.” Jane rotated around to blink her wispy lashes. “You are my dearest and closest friend. Mr. Waverley must know how I feel. I cannot risk him falling in love with someone else.”
Jane’s words and her ardent pleading struck a deep chord in Lily’s soul. What right did Lily have to deny her friend a chance at happiness? “Very well, but how am I supposed to slip a letter to Mr. Waverley without him believing I was the person who wrote it?”
Jane smiled, her lovely face alight with hope. “I will make sure he is to stay in the guest room across from Henry. We shall wait until tomorrow night after everyone has gone to bed. You will bring the letter to me, where I will sign the bottom. Next, we will sneak to Mr. Waverley’s room and slip the note under his door. He will be none the wiser.”
Lily hesitated to nod. Always romantic and never sensible, Jane had a way of turning everything into a wedding march of some sort.
“We must, however, keep this letter a secret between us. No one in my family must know, especially Henry. Although he and Mr. Waverley are the closest of friends, my brother would probably shoot him first and ask questions later. He has no tolerance for secrets, you know.”
No, Lily didn’t. It seemed a lifetime since they’d spent more than a minute in each other’s company. A minute where he’d forgotten her name, and she’d forgotten how to speak.
“Now, try not to dally too long. The parlor games will start soon, and I have someone in mind for you.” She paused to send Lily a triumphant grin before bending down to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Oh, and if you find yourself unsure of what to write, just imagine a man you love with all your heart.”
Jane slipped from the room to give Lily some time to think about what she wanted to write. After many starts and stops, Lily brushed back her thick hair and dipped the quill into the black ink. For once, she wanted to leave her heart out of things. However, with the evening growing late, she resigned herself to take Jane’s advice. It might even do her well to confess her feelings and let them go, once and for all.
My Love,
You may have thought of me only once or twice; yet, I have thought of you for what seems all my life. With one slight gaze in your direction, I am lost. I know it seems impossible for me to confess such things, to express an affection that has been unrequited. However, you must know, I have loved you and only you.
At last, Lily laid the quill down, blew out a slow breath, and pushed back in the chair. Although her soul soared with newfound freedom, her mind knew Henry would never see or hear those words from her. They had grown too far apart, creating an invisible wedge between them, so they were little more than strangers.
Discouraged by her thoughts, she swiped at a stray tear and folded the paper, stuffing the confession inside her sleeve. She believed it would remain safer there than anywhere else. Then she plumped up her cheeks and smoothed out her
pale pink empire dress.
Downstairs, the light from two fireplaces and two dozen candles danced about the spacious drawing room and over the six or so well-dressed occupants. She recognized both Mr. Frank Naughton and Mr. Harry Bentley from a previous gathering, as well as the two other women whom Jane had invited and thought suited each gentleman best. Although Lily liked Miss Caroline Putnam and Miss Olivia Carrington, they didn’t mingle much, satisfied to remain inside their tight circle of conversation.
“Oh, Lily!” Jane called from somewhere behind her. Both eager and anxious to show her friend the letter, Lily twisted around, stepped, and smacked into a hard and well-proportioned figure. She opened her mouth to apologize when her gaze fell on the victim of her hastiness, Mr. Henry Dalton. Unprepared, her breath left her in a rush, a gesture he noticed and acknowledged with an arrogant lift of one dark eyebrow.
With her heart pounding an erratic beat, she dipped into an awkward curtsey, only to have the letter she had tucked away, fall to her slippered feet. She gasped and reached down to retrieve the love note, a second too late.
“Give that back at once.” She straightened as she spoke, her voice lowered to a strained, demanding whisper.
Mr. Dalton lifted the letter to his lips, his gray eyes narrowing over the folded edge. If he smirked or sneered, Lily couldn’t tell.
“Am I to assume, Miss…” He paused.
The pompous. “Scott. My name is Miss Lily Scott.” She emphasized the last word.
He lowered the letter, his smile wide but void of humor. “Yes, of course. Am I to assume, Miss Scott, that this letter I witnessed fall out of your left sleeve is some intimate diversion meant for someone…in this room?”
Chapter Two
Lily followed Henry’s smoky gaze as it shifted from one end of the parlor to the next. She believed he took his time to settle back on her once again. Inside her white gloves, her hands began to sweat. “I wouldn’t know, sir.”
She answered him honestly. She had never met Mr. Waverley or heard anything about his features. She supposed he was handsome. Jane only liked gentlemen who were, in some way, striking in both character and appearance.
“Now, if you have finished with your questions, I would like to have back what you wrongfully took from me.”
Henry slipped the letter into his jacket, smiled, and stepped toward a voluptuous creature with dark, sultry eyes.
Lily dropped her shoulders, recognizing the woman as Henry’s latest rumored conquest. At the sight of them together, her stomach churned with nervousness, and her head ached with sudden disappointment. Oh, God. Why am I here?
Her thoughts turned to poor Mr. Waverley. Of course, the only thing saving Jane’s secret love from a bullet wound was that Lily had neglected to put his name at the top of the letter, and it remained unsigned.
“Did you write the letter?”
Lily jumped and spread her gloved hand over her chest. Her heart thumped against her palm as she rotated around to face her friend. “Yes,” she answered, leaving out the fact that it no longer remained in her possession. “It’s…written.”
Jane clapped her hands like a child. “I’m sure it’s perfect, but I’ll read it later when Aunt Sophia has fallen asleep,” she whispered.
Lily glanced over at the gray-haired woman, her head bobbing one way and then the next, against a red and gold striped mahogany-framed couch. Aunt Sophia remained the preferred relative above everyone else because she always fell asleep during her sole occupation as a chaperone.
“For now, I’m trying to discover what possessed my brother to ask me to invite Miss Appleton,” Jane said, all the while smiling in their direction. “They are not together, but I do believe he chooses to associate with the most disagreeable women on purpose, just to vex me.”
Lily tried to avoid glancing in Henry’s direction by instead sending her friend a sympathetic smile. She’d always remembered Jane as being outspoken and determined. With a much larger dowry than Lily, she attracted her fair share of suitors, all of whom she tried to deflect with her infamous “parlor games.” That is until Jane had suddenly and surprisingly realized her unrecoverable love for Mr. Waverley.
“I cannot begin to speculate about Henry’s many cordial affairs,” Jane continued, fanning her face in disgust. “Do you know that Miss Appleton is rumored to have been engaged five months ago, but the wedding was called off because of something the groom discovered but did not disclose?”
Lily pressed her lips together. While her heart had remained steadfast and loyal to Jane’s brother, he’d veered off onto a path of open debauchery. Sometime between their quiet walks in the garden, a lovely pretend wedding day, and this moment, he’d become a man she hardly recognized. What had happened to the young boy who had reached for her hand when he thought her unhappy or hurt? Perhaps she might address him as Mr. Daltrey, next time.
“Oh, good. Look, Henry’s unlatched himself from Miss Appleton and is now speaking to Mr. Waverley. I shall introduce you to him.”
Lily shook her head. “But I had hoped to have some punch.” She needed something to steady her nerves, a place to think on how to retrieve the letter. Since seeing Henry again, her heart hadn’t slowed its pace, and her hands had yet to stop shaking. Of course, when she turned away, Jane grasped one of her trembling hands, hauling her toward where Mr. Waverley and Henry stood talking, a glass of brandy in their right hands.
Lily believed she could not imagine Mr. Waverley any more handsome. He was tall with soft blond hair and gentle blue eyes. He was not, however, her husband. Stirred by Henry’s presence, Lily shifted her gaze to him. Her progress forward faltered when his hand reached into the pocket he’d secured Mr. Waverly’s letter. In slow motion, her legs tangled, her ankles twisted, and she landed on the hard floor with a graceless thud.
She lay for a moment mortified and out of breath. The room, already cast in long shadows, drew larger over her. She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to comprehend just how miserable she appeared to everyone.
“Are you hurt anywhere?” She flipped her eyelids open to find Henry bent down, his face but a few inches from hers. Unable to yield one coherent word, she shook her head.
“All the same,” he said, slipping his hands under her legs and lifting her into his arms.
“This is not necessary,” she whispered, hoarse and near tears.
“Put her on the couch, Henry,” called Jane’s voice behind them.
The letter. “No!”
He halted, his eyes narrowing on Lily’s face so long, she thought it might catch on fire.
“I’d…I’d much rather…you take me to my room.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw, and she held her breath, waiting to see what he’d do next.
“Very well,” he said after a long moment and pulled her snug against him. He carried Lily up the winding staircase, her pulse sputtering with each easy stride.
For propriety sake, Jane lingered behind them. As he concentrated on his steps, Lily stole glances at his closed expression.
She supposed she’d stared too long at his Grecian features when he cleared his throat, making her jump.
“I don’t remember you being this clumsy, Miss Scott,” he said, one eyebrow quirking upward.
His mocking and unemotional tone caused the romantic spell he’d woven around her to snap. Drawing in a long breath, she unleashed years of resentment upon his beautiful, arrogant head.
“Since it has taken you this long to recall my name correctly, I’m astonished that you remember anything about me at all.”
He exhaled and turned his head, so his lips fell close to touching hers. “I assume you still occupy the same room?” he asked, changing the subject.
His gray eyes turned a shade darker, and she remembered how they’d change when he was running out of patience. “Yes,” she said, swallowing hard and loud.
He nodded and rotated sideways to twist the knob to her door. Somewhere between the landing and now, Jane had disa
ppeared.
He grumbled something under his breath, and Lily knew he was not happy with his sister leaving them alone. Still, he brought Lily closer into his sturdy chest. While her mind remained in a state of utmost alarm, her body wanted only to snuggle deeper into his arms. A few years ago, she’d had many whimsical thoughts of this moment, of Henry proposing and carrying her into their new life together. However, like a fool, she’d placed all her hope, all her dreams, on the capricious vow he’d recited to her. She didn’t know why he’d chosen to forget her, but it hurt more than anything she’d experienced thus far.
“Are you hurt, Miss Scott?” he asked again, his warm breath laced with a tinge of alcohol.
Yes. “Just my pride, sir,” she answered him.
One side of his mouth lifted as he strode across the room, stopping near the side of her canopy bed. He bent to set her down when her arms wrapped tighter around his neck. He couldn’t leave her now. She hadn’t retrieved the letter.
With her heart in her throat, she pulled Henry’s lips to hers, kissing him as he’d kissed her on their wedding day. The words he’d said echoing softly in her mind.
Chapter Three
Henry felt Lily’s thunderous heartbeat against his chest, felt the naïve tremble in her kiss. He had guessed she’d do something to retrieve the letter from his pocket, he just never assumed she’d go this far. He, of course, should have expected it.
More than aroused, he allowed the softness of her mouth to press against his. As she fumbled for the letter, he cupped his palm behind her head, coaxing her closer. Her kiss, sweet like honeysuckle and soft like silk, ignited the blood in his veins. Furious by her attempt to distract him, and yet entranced, he parted her lips with his tongue. She tensed, her fingers halting inside his jacket. Too late to turn back, he stroked the inside of her mouth until he drew a moan from deep in her throat. Her response was a glorious sound, a sound he’d forbidden himself to imagine, until now.