Regency Romance: Fallen Duchess (A Historical Victorian Murder Mystery Love Regency Romance)

by Tracey D Morgan

  "I'll do it," he quickly agreed.

  "Good. I'll sort the details out with George."

  "That takes care of one problem, but how are you going to find me a wife?" Matthew was curious to see what kind of solution Ivan would dream up for him. Women in Texas were of short supply — especially in their small town — and he doubted any of the local girls would settle for the local bit house bartender.

  "I'll order you a bride," Ivan proclaimed.

  Matthew couldn't have been more confused. "What do you mean? Like, from a catalogue?" Matthew sure hoped Ivan meant a real woman and not a bag of sugar dressed up in lace and calico — or worse, one of Ivan's poker friends dressed in lace and calico.

  "Yes, exactly," he added. "I will contact an agency and have an ad placed for you. With your luck, a nice girl will take it as an opportunity to better her life."

  "But I don't want to get married, I just need a 'bride' temporarily," Matthew stated. He worried Ivan was getting a bit carried away.

  "Exactly! The girl doesn't have to marry you once she gets here; you can offer her some money to pretend to be your fiancée and then pay to have her settled up somewhere nice. With the shortage of women here, she will be a bride in no time."

  "I don't know Ivan," Matthew hesitated. Ivan's scheme was completely ridiculous, had too many variables, and was completely dependent on an individual being desperate enough to try and make it work. Matthew wondered if he was actually desperate enough to be that individual.

  "Well Matthew, perhaps you are right. I'm sure once you explain to your mother the situation, she'll understand," Ivan offered sympathetically.

  "I'll do it!" Matthew said, a little too eagerly.

  Ivan was taken aback by his sudden change. "Well, sure," he offered a wry smile. "You just need to fill out a few forms for George's place and fill out a description for the bride order."

  "Where do I sign?" Matthew asked. The moment Ivan had used his "mother" and "understand" in the same sentence, he knew the scheme was his best option. There was no way the outcome could be any worse than dealing with his uptight, overbearing, high-society mother.

  At least that is what he told himself.

  Chapter Three:

  "Come on, let's just take a quick peek inside," suggested Eva.

  "Are you going to run off out West now and marry a gold miner?" teased Mia as she flipped through a ladies fashion magazine.

  "No," Eva stuck her tongue out at her elder sister. "I just want to see what the ads for brides say," she explained. "Besides," she added, "those poor men must be terribly lonely all alone in the middle of nowhere without a woman to keep them warm," as she spoke, she got a far off look in her eye.

  "Hogwash," interrupted Olivia.

  "Language!" chastised Mia.

  "What I meant," Olivia continued, "was that a women should strive to be more than just some man's bed warmer," she said hotly.

  "Olivia!" Mia scolded again, "We are in public." She looked around her to make sure no one had heard her sister's words. Mia was all about keeping up appearances.

  Both Eva and Cora giggled at Olivia's bold words and Mia's embarrassment.

  "Well, Cora and I are going to do what we want, right Cora?" Eva turned to her for validation.

  "Um, yes," Cora agreed with some hesitation.

  "Good, now here, take one." Eva handed Cora one of the magazines that had the ads for mail-order-brides. "Now, if you will excuse us," she said smugly to the other two sisters, "we have some husband picking to do." She turned on her heels with a flourish.

  Cora remained behind for a moment, not sure if she should follow in Eva's footsteps. Although Eva had treated the notion like a silly joke, it touched on a harsh reality for the girls as many people already regarded the Morgan girls as spinsters.

  They left the store to find a comfortable spot to sit and peruse the lonely heart ads. As they flipped through, they giggled at the ads and openly imagined how different their lives would be if they decided to take up an offer.

  "It would be such an adventure," Cora commented as she read an ad from a homesteader in Idaho.

  "Truly. Just imagine," Eva sighed. She ran her fingers absently over an ad for a prospector in California.

  "Do you think you would ever take any of these men up on their offers?" Cora asked cautiously. "You would be giving up everything to start a life with a man you've never met."

  "Sometimes," Eva confessed. She paused with her hand over another ad, "and there are some days where the thought is a bit more enticing than others." With a final sigh, she shut the magazine.

  "Is it really that foolish?" Cora pressed.

  Her sister looked at her for a long time, her heavy eyes searching hers. "I don't think so," she concluded. "There are far worst fates, after all, than an adventure."

  Cora nodded, taking her sister's words to heart. However, her question was not random. She was thinking of how easy it was for a man to pick up and seek his fortune in a new place, while the same type of options were not available to women. Cora longed to see a different world, to experience something far more exciting than dull, predictable Boston. She envied Matthew Carmichael's ability to move to Texas on a whim.

  She wished she could be more like that, to do things on whims.

  "Well, I am going to go check on Mia and Olivia, surely they are done in the store by now." Eva rose with ease, she moved as if she did not carry the worries of someone twice her age.

  Ever since their father had died, money had been tight. Although they were fine for the moment, without a steady source of income, their futures remained unknown. All four girls knew that their best chance at survival was finding a husband who could support them once the Morgan vaults dried up. Although they all joked about the idea of becoming a mail-order bride, their laughter hid the dark reality that such a solution might be in their near future.

  "Ok," Cora said. "I'll wait here until you are all done," she smiled at her sister.

  Eva gave her an appreciative look before turning back toward the store.

  Cora settled back down to continue perusing the ads. There had been one ad in particular that had caught her eye. At first, she hadn't given it much thought, but now she found her mind turning back to it.

  Bride needed for well-established bachelor living in Texas.

  Must be intelligent, good natured, and educated.

  Must be willing to accept offer immediately.

  Travel and accommodations provided.

  Please contact Horn & Carmichael Law to accept offer.

  P.S. Must be amiable and able to get along with a mother-in-law.

  Cora thought the post was quite odd. The ad was directed through the Carmichael law firm — where Matthew used to work before he left for Texas.

  Texas! It all made sense. The ad was placed through Matthew's family firm, who else would deal through that specific agency? In addition, the ad required someone who could get along with a mother-in-law — and only someone with a mother as difficult as Mrs. Carmichael would find it necessary to include such a stipulation.

  Cora knew that this ad was for Matthew Carmichael. She clutched the ad to her breast and smiled with exuberant joy. She knew what she was meant to do; she just prayed that no one had already accepted the offer. This was fate guiding her back to Matthew.

  She quickly ran back into the store to let her sisters know — although she would leave out the part where she suspected it was Matthew Carmichael — that she had found her new husband. She knew it was ridiculous, but her gut told her to go for it.

  Chapter Four

  "So Ivan tells me you are an educated man?" George Gavin boomed in his impressively deep voice. He was tall, with leathery tan skin and a thick grey beard. He looked exactly how Matthew thought an aged Texas rancher would look.

  "Yes sir," Matthew added with confidence. "I was a lawyer for several years before I decided to come out west for a change of pace.

  George gave him a scrutinizing look. "Change of p
ace you say? Well, it sure isn't easy like your cozy chair job; this here is hard work," he added.

  "I'm no stranger to hard work sir," Matthew felt like he was being interrogated. "I've been working at the saloon —"

  "The saloon?" the aged cowboy gave him a mocking scowl. "It ain't nothin' like the saloon when you are herding cattle and fighting thieves." As he spoke, George's eye twitched.

  "Of course not," Matthew added calmly. "But the one thing I've learned from working at the saloon — as well as my time as a lawyer — is the art of diplomacy."

  George gave him a confused look.

  "Let me elaborate. I can't even count the number of fights I have had to break up, the show-downs I've dissuaded and this —" he held up his hand to show a jagged scar that ran down the center of his palm "— is from the time I got stabbed while apprehending a local cattle thief that had decided to come into the saloon for a drink."

  George crossed his arms and gave Matthew a thorough once-over.

  Matthew held his breath.

  George broke into a wide, slightly toothless grin. "I like you." He leaned forward to clap Matthew on his back. "You have the job!"

  Matthew breathed a sigh of relief. He had exaggerated the last part about apprehending a cattle thief. The cut was actually from a broken beer glass, but George didn't need to know that.

  "Well, I leave early in the morning for my cattle drive, how about we celebrate your new job by grabbing a base burner. It's on me," George offered.

  Matthew wasn't one to turn down a drink, especially when his new boss was offering to pay.

  Chapter Five

  Cora couldn't believe she was finally here. As she stepped out of the stagecoach and onto the dusty Texas road, she could feel her heart beating with excitement. She couldn't believe she had actually gone through with it.

  It had taken a bit of convincing to get her mother and sisters to finally allow her to take up the offer. Her mother had been hesitant, since it was offered through the Carmichael law office, but Cora had used it to her advantage by explaining that it made it more reputable.

  When she left Boston, it had been bittersweet. She had no idea when she would see her family again, but she hoped that it wouldn't be too long. The excitement of seeing Matthew again kept her going.

  She turned to the driver. "Where is the local hotel?" she asked politely.

  He gave her bewildered look. "Hotel ma'am? We ain't got a hotel."

  Cora was taken aback. "But where am I supposed to stay then?"

  "With your new husband, I suppose."

  "That will not do. I need proper time to avail myself before I agree to marital vows," she said.

  He shrugged. "I don't know 'bout you ma'am, but most are married right off the coach."

  Cora gasped, "That will not do," she said again.

  The coach driver rolled his eyes at her. "Well, if you must find a place, the saloon has a few rooms to rent."

  "Ok," she thought. "Where is the saloon?" she asked.

  He pointed to a rickety building across the street. "How 'bout you inquire inside 'bout where you will be staying, then come back and tell me and I'll deliver your trunk," he said bluntly.

  Cora figured this was the best she would get until Matthew, her fiancé, came to retrieve her. An acceptance letter had been sent, but she had been advised there was a chance she might arrive before it.

  Cora straightened her travel coat and marched confidently toward the saloon. She was determined to make the best of things. Surely she wouldn't have to spend too long at the saloon before Matthew came to get her.

  As she walked through the doors, she was hit by the scent of stale ale and cigar smoke; cheap piano music played on in the background. She coughed against the fumes, but chose to push forward despite the appalling smell. She hoped he came soon, preferably today.

  As she made her way up to the front counter, she searched for someone who might be able to help her.

  "Hello?" she rapped her knuckles impatiently on the bar counter. "Whom do I talk to about getting a room?" she asked a haggard man sitting at the bar.

  "I can offer you a room with me," he said with a pronounced lisp. As he smiled, he revealed a set of blackened teeth.

  Cora tried her best to hold back her revulsion. "Thank you for your offer, but I will have to decline."

  "Suit yourself," the man turned back to his beer.

  Cora looked desperately around the room; all of the men looked the same. Everyone was drinking, playing poker, or both. No one looked as if they were respectable enough to be running the establishment.

  "Excuse me?" she turned to the man on her other side, "who runs this place?"

  "Joe," the man muttered without taking his eyes of the pint before him.

  "Thank you," Cora said. She looked around the room expectantly, "Now which one is Joe?" she asked again.

  The man mumbled something indistinguishable, and then took another swig.

  Cora was about to give up, when an oddly familiar voice behind her spoke. "Do you need help ma'am?"

  Cora turned around and gasped. It was HIM!

  It was Matthew, but all grown up. He was tall, toned, and had his signature unruly brown hair falling into his eyes. His strong jaw hinted at a five o'clock shadow, which made him look even more daring and intense.

  "Matthew?" she breathed.

  The man's expression changed from polite curiosity, to utter confusion.

  "I'm sorry?" he clarified. "Do I know you?"

  Cora's face fell; Matthew did not remember her. How could this be? She had dreamt about him since she was eight years old, but he didn't even know who she was.

  "Do you not know who I am?" she asked.

  "Am I supposed to?" he slurred his words slightly.

  It was at that moment that Cora realized Matthew was drunk.

  "Son, how about you get the fellas another round and let me do the talking to the pretty lady?" A weathered, older cowboy clapped Matthew on the shoulders and turned his blurry attention on Cora. "Howdy do, ma'am?"

  Cora was appalled. She had traveled thousands of miles on a whim to find Matthew and not only did he not remember her, he was a drunkard.

  She completely ignored the leering look of Matthew's older companion. If she wasn't so angry, she might have cried. "How could you!" she exclaimed a little bit too loudly.

  The whole room went quiet as people turned their heads to watch the commotion at the front.

  "Sorry?" Matthew asked.

  "I came all the way here for you and instead of meeting me at the coach, you are off getting drunk with your friends!"

  Matthew's face went very pale, his mouth hung open in a shocked expression.

  "Is this here your girl?" the older cowboy prodded Matthew curiously.

  "I, um —" Matthew began.

  They were suddenly interrupted by a gentleman waving a letter in his hand excitedly, "someone accepted your offer —" he stopped as soon as he noticed the small, confused group. "Er, I mean she is here," he cleared his throat gruffly.

  All eyes turned to him, expectantly.

  He approached the group of stunned faces and extended his hand. "You must be Ms. Constance Morgan," he said to Cora.

  Cora let out a sigh of relief, someone knew who she was. "Yes, and you are?"

  "Ivan Johnson," he exclaimed as he took her hand and kissed it.

  Cora blushed. She turned to Matthew and saw, to her horror, that his face was even paler than before.

  "Morgan?" Matthew stuttered.

  "Why yes son," the older cowboy shook him roughly. "Don't be so embarrassed, at least your girl just caught you with a drink — you weren't whorin' or nothin'."

  "But a Morgan!" Matthew exclaimed once again.

  This time, Cora felt like crying. He did know who she was — almost too well. He was rejecting her for no longer belonging to the same social class as him. Obviously, Mrs. Carmichael had gotten to the youthful, accepting, kind-hearted boy she had met all those years ago an
d replaced him with the cold man before her who abided by social hierarchies. Cora thought here in the West, family name shouldn't matter.

  "You know Matthew," she spoke as her eyes began to sting with the onslaught of fresh tears, "I thought you would still be the same kind boy I met years ago. I guess I was wrong." And with that, she turned smartly on her heels and walked right out the door of the saloon.

  She had no idea where she was going to go, all she knew was she needed to get as far away as she could from Matthew Carmichael.

  The cad, she thought. He had placed an ad for a wife, but had rejected her because of who her family was. Cora now knew that she had idealized Matthew and had bestowed unrealistic qualities upon him. He was not the man she had thought he was, although he looked exactly like the handsome, strong, dark haired young man she had imagined.

  She swiped at the hot tears as they rolled down her cheek. She did not want to cry over a man, especially a pompous, self-righteous one like Matthew. She had been so foolish to think that he would welcome her with open arms without exhibiting any of his mother's prejudices.

  "Ms. Morgan?" a man called her name.

  She turned around to see Ivan Johnson — the only one who had been somewhat decent – huffing it towards her, his face red with exertion.

  "Ms. Morgan," he stopped before her. "I am very sorry, this is all my fault," he began.

  "No, it's Matthew's," she said hotly. "And mine, in a way, for presuming too much."

  "He usually isn't like this, but when he saw you it was like he saw a ghost!" he exclaimed.

  Cora rolled her eyes. "I'm sure he did," she muttered. She wasn't about to explain to this man that his "friend" was a social snob.

  "Look, you obviously need a place to stay. My wife and I have a guest room in our house. I would like to extend the offer of lodgings until we can make alternative arrangements for you."

  "How kind," Cora smiled. "However, I will be returning home on the coach later this day."

  "Coach?" Ivan looked bewildered. "The coach left about an hour ago and won't return for another two weeks."