Hell of a Lady

by Anders, Annabelle

  But these ducks were no cowards, especially when an entire bag of bread still awaited them.

  In a matter of mere seconds, the peaceful grassy area transformed into a circus of nurses, children, fowl, and small yapping dogs running in circles after one another.

  Just as Rhoda moved to jump into the fray, a warm arm wrapped around her from behind. “I’ll not have you running after them in your condition.”

  “But Eleanor’s dress!” Rhoda gave a halfhearted tug, but in truth had no desire to escape.

  Her husband’s breath caressing the skin behind her ears never failed to send tingles down her spine. That and the discreet kiss he’d placed on the sensitive skin there. “Look, see, Dev and Marcus already have the dogs mostly contained. And Mrs. Bobbitt has the children well in hand.”

  “Cecily and Sophia are increasing as well.” Rhoda glanced over her shoulder to stare into her husband’s beautiful blue eyes. She never failed to be surprised that they could appear even brighter than the sky.

  Justin laughed, causing tiny wrinkles to appear at the corners. “Our children shall never lack friends, that is for certain.”

  Just as she would not. How lucky they had all been, at that first ball, to have been ignored by most of the gentlemen present. To have been left alone so that they might forge their own very special bond.

  “They are more than just friends, Justin.” She wondered that her heart did not explode from so much joy. “They are family.”

  She felt him nod behind her and together they watched the flurry of activity taking place near the edge of the water.

  Prescott bent over to swipe one of the puppies away from the mud, and at that moment, a duck took purposeful aim at his ducal backside. Exhibiting more strength than one would attribute to the feathered creature, the poking bill sent the unsuspecting Duke of Prescott flying head first into the pond. Surprisingly, his splash was not all that impressive.

  “What on earth are you doing, Dev? People are going to think we’re a group of uncivilized urchins.” Sophia rushed to her husband and reached out with a gloved hand to assist him out of the water.

  “Oh, no!” Rhoda gasped, knowing she could do nothing about what was about to occur.

  For the same diabolical duck was now rushing toward Sophia from behind with a decidedly wicked look on his face.

  Sophia’s fall, accompanied by a high-pitched scream, caused a much greater splash then the duke’s had.

  “Never a dull moment with all this family.” Justin took Rhoda by the arm to lead them toward their muddied cousins. “Not when four devilish debutantes get together.”

  – The End –

  DEAR READERS,

  Thank you so very much for experiencing this journey of happily-ever-afters for all of my Devilish Debutantes. But does it really have to end?

  Of Course not!

  Remember Miss Louella Rose?

  Ah, yes. She had her very own reasons for being out of sorts at the Garden Party. Her story will kick off my new series which I’ve titled, The Not So Saintly Sisters.

  On a sober note, I feel it my responsibility to issue a trigger warning for her story.

  I never wanted to know so much about the very alarming practice known as cutting. When you discover somebody near and dear to you, however, suffering from an addiction, you absolutely must learn as much about it as possible.

  It is often misunderstood, mimicked, and criticized, but I’ve learned that for those who are truly compelled into self-harm, they cannot control it any more than an alcoholic or overeater.

  Even more alarming, the more a cutter dwells on it, the greater the compulsion.

  For that reason, I find it necessary to recommend that anyone with cutting compulsions NOT read the following sample chapter of my next book, THE PERFECT DEBUTANTE. Or the book itself.

  I’ve done my best to write an accurate depiction of a young woman who struggles with cutting and the most realistic means she has to overcome it. Although cutting has been referred to by different names throughout history, the compulsion is nothing new.

  Know that cutters rarely are suicidal and most leave off the practice in their twenties.

  I am not a psychologist, nor an expert in any way. THE PERFECT DEBUTANTE has been written based solely upon my own personally conducted interviews, research, and experience.

  And so, I give you the first chapter of:

  THE PERFECT DEBUTANTE

  (The Not So Saintly Sisters, Book 1)

  By

  Annabelle Anders

  CHAPTER ONE

  A Little Relief

  Miss Louella Rose huddled on the floor behind the large canopied bed taking up most of her chamber. If her mother took it upon herself to peek inside, she would believe the room to be empty.

  Which was exactly what Louella wanted—what she needed.

  But Mama would not come now anyhow. She and Papa knew she was not at all pleased with them. Not after Papa had told her his decision, giving her no choice but to consent to the betrothal he’d arranged for her with their neighbor’s son.

  And they expected her to be grateful! Of all things!

  Anger. Frustration. Disappointment. The hopelessness of her situation made her want to be invisible. Black crept into the edges of her vision.

  How could they do this to Olivia?

  Cowering behind the bed, Louella opened the bottom drawer of the nightstand and reverently withdrew the sewing basket.

  The tattered straw and old cloth lining provided a modicum of comfort, in and of itself.

  “You are the beauty of this family, Louella. A perfect English Rose. This is your duty. And your mother assures me the marquess is quite handsome. You’ll be a duchess someday, gel. Now stop your blathering.” Her father’s words had been meant to placate her. A beauty! Perfect?

  Louella knew what they saw.

  A young girl with an unblemished complexion, chestnut brown hair, and blue eyes with thick lashes.

  But it was only her shell.

  She was not perfect; she was not beautiful.

  Dizziness gripped her.

  Closing her eyes a few moments, Louella inhaled deeply before opening them again and unraveling the ribbon from around her wrist. She’d tied the silk loosely, but it managed to leave an imprint on the tender skin nonetheless.

  She would use a needle this time. Hopefully, that would be sufficient.

  She could not access her abdomen during the daytime. Her stays prevented that well enough.

  Rolling her arm to expose the tender skin there, she located an unscarred section and compelled the needle downward. As the sharp point drew a short crimson line, she felt nothing. Was this even her?

  She pressed harder the second time, and a thicker line of blood oozed onto her pale, almost translucent skin. A sting. And tingling. Ah, yes. I’m real.

  And the berating voices swirling in her mind began to subside.

  Blood is real.

  The blood is mine.

  I am real.

  She drew another line, this one longer, and just the tiniest bit deeper than the first two. The needle stung. It hurt even.

  Her racing heart slowed.

  It would be okay. Olivia would understand.

  She could now feel the floor beneath her and the frame of the bed digging into her back.

  The last cut was shallow, barely a scratch, really.

  Her vision cleared.

  As she watched the blood flow and begin to congeal, her breathing slowed. Her muscles relaxed, and her bones nearly melted onto the floor. She could almost fall asleep right there. Still holding the needle between her fingers, she dropped her hand to the carpet and tilted her head back, resting it on the side of the bed.

  She could do this. She didn’t want to, but she could. Papa would insist.

  After what might have been a few seconds or several moments, Louella roused herself from the blessed lethargy enough to clean the needle and replace it in the sewing basket.

  S
he then washed her wrist in the wash basin, dried it, and rewrapped the silk ribbon to tie it snugly.

  Using her teeth, she managed a fairly decent bow.

  Louella had done this before.

  The devil didn’t dwell inside her.

  It was just.

  Her.

  “You wish me to marry Little Louella Rose?”

  Captain Cameron Samuel Benjamin Denning, Marquess of Stanton, barely remembered the girl.

  She’d been a child when he left, gallivanting about her father’s estate, and often his father’s property as well.

  He vaguely remembered the older sister… blonde, she’d been on the verge of womanhood, sweet and pretty. But he’d been a cocky bastard at the time. All he’d noticed was that the gel had been cockeyed.

  And the younger girl? Louella Rose? She had been all skin and bones, eyes too large for her face, dirt on her dresses, and ah, yes, stringy brown hair. She would have been most unmemorable but for her temper. She’d lobbed an apple at his head on one occasion. He scratched his chin. If memory served him correctly, he’d done something to provoke the attack. He’d been an ass that summer. Hating his father. Hating his father’s new family. Hating pretty much everybody, including himself.

  “She’s not a child anymore,” his father said without glancing up from the papers on his desk.

  What had the sister’s name been? Olive? No, Olivia, Miss Olivia Redfield, oldest daughter of Viscount Hallewell. She’d been closer to him in age.

  “Truth be told,” his stepmother, the duchess, piped in. “Miss Louella Rose is likely one of the comeliest debutantes in all of England.”

  Cameron wasn’t certain he could believe that. The hoyden had been something of a tomboy, trespassing with her sister almost daily. They’d met with better luck fishing on the ducal lands than their own.

  And Cameron had not treated them kindly. Ah, yes, he’d teased the older girl mercilessly for her eye. He winced at the memory.

  At the time, he’d barely reached his majority. He’d been an irresponsible youth, willing to do anything to escape his father and all of his ducal expectations.

  “What of the older daughter?” Cameron stared out the window, contemplating his past wrongs.

  Again, his stepmother supplied the answer. “Something of a spinster. Doesn’t move in society, as I understand. Hallewell keeps her well under wraps. I doubt they’ve brought her with them to London for the Season. If I were to take a guess, I’d say she’s probably simple.”

  His father grunted.

  Cameron knew neither of the girls were what attracted his father to such an alliance.

  The Hallewell estate sat just south of Ashton Acres. Nestled in the low lands, unkempt and overrun with brush, it was aptly named Geyser Gulch.

  But just inside of its borders sat the true prize.

  An abandoned mine.

  Abandoned and branded as cursed by the current Viscount’s father, following a tragic cave-in decades ago. But that wasn’t the end of it. No, the damn thing was rumored to be loaded with gold. A few of the men who’d managed to survive the collapse, but not their injuries, had spoken of a thick vein of gold discovered just before the collapse. Ancient tales warned that the cave-in had occurred because the gold had been exposed.

  Locals scoffed at the notion of gold in the mine. Never, in the history of the area, had any precious metals been mined profitably.

  Viscount Hallewell, like his father before him, believed the mine to be cursed.

  He’d adamantly refused to reopen it.

  Until now, apparently.

  With pockets to let, and a comely daughter at that… Cameron guessed that Crawford, his own father, had finally discovered the bargaining chip to change Hallewell’s mind.

  His son.

  And damnit, upon departing a decade ago, Cameron had promised to marry upon his return. He’d not hated his birthright; he’d simply needed to sow his oats. Such a stupid promise to have made.

  “Isn’t there a son in the family as well?” Surely, the son would have something to say about all of this. It was his inheritance, after all.

  “Not anymore. Died shortly after you left.” Cameron’s father had no sympathy when it came to others’ misfortunes.

  Raising his brows, Cam glanced toward the duchess. She would know more about the family.

  “His mother, the viscountess, was inconsolable for months. But the boy was always sickly. Nearly drowned but then took sick. I imagine he’d have died of some other malady if not for the accident.” She answered the unspoken question. “William, I believe they called him, was only five years old.”

  Cam rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

  All of this seemed rather sudden, and yet, he’d known, before returning, that his father would expect him to marry and set up a nursery. And Cam had promised he’d do just that.

  He intended to keep his promise.

  Because, as backward as it seemed, the one thing he’d carried with him all those years serving his country had been the burden of guilt.

  He’d known his family worried endlessly about him.

  Well, not him, per se. The male son. The heir.

  For the Duke of Crawford had failed to produce a spare. After bringing five young daughters from her previous marriage, the new duchess had failed to conceive again. Cameron was an older brother to five silly stepsisters.

  Yes, the family had spent a good deal of time worrying after his wellbeing.

  Hell.

  Why the Redfield daughter?

  He could only hope she had little memory of him.

  Upon reaching his majority, Cam had been filled with angst. He’d returned from school to discover his father remarried and a house filled with annoying little girls who’d managed only to remind himself of his mother’s absence, and the peace she’d always given him.

  Cam had responded by drinking, carousing, swiving whatever he was offered, and then ultimately threatening to enlist himself into the British Army.

  Which would have been unheard of.

  An unmitigated embarrassment to his father.

  His father had taken the threat literally, and although it would mean sending his heir off to war, he’d negotiated a bargain with him. With the understanding that when Cam reached the age of thirty he would return home and marry the bride of his choosing, the Duke of Crawford had purchased Cam an officer’s commission in the British Navy.

  Thirty had seemed a lifetime away.

  Cam brushed a hand through his hair. What an ass he’d been.

  Damn his younger self.

  “I’m to visit the youngest daughter tomorrow?” he asked. “And she is agreeable? How old is she now?”

  He certainly wouldn’t force the poor girl to marry him if she was unwilling. He would make his offer, formally, dispassionately, but… pleasantly. He would not insist, however, and by God, he wouldn’t beg.

  “She’s ten and nine. A most suitable age. We’ll visit their townhouse together. For tea,” his stepmother responded to his first question.

  “Of course, she’s agreeable. Damned fool girl she’d be if she wasn’t,” his father answered his second question.

  A social climber, then.

  Hell, maybe she’d forgotten him completely!

  “Tomorrow, then? At tea,” he asked as though announcing his own execution.

  “She’s a lovely girl.” The duchess patted Cam’s father on the shoulder. “We’ll allow the two of you a few moments alone, so that you can be certain you’ll get on well together.”

  Well then.

  Damn.

  “Better yet, you’ll have a chance to renew your acquaintance this afternoon, at the Snodgrass Party. I wouldn’t think the Redfields would miss it.”

  Perhaps that would make tomorrow easier. Perhaps he could charm her into forgetting his actions before he’d gone off to war. His stupid and churlish behavior.

  Might make for a less awkward proposal, anyhow.

  Pre
view End

  The Perfect Debutante will release in early 2019

  Please click here to sign up for the exclusive VIP list where you’ll learn more about The Perfect Debutante!

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to Rebecca, the voice inside my head who keeps me going every single day. To Tracy, Kay and Manny for all of your edits, helping me prepare this book for public consumption. To my Beta Readers, Mary, Debbie, and Cassandra, for pointing out that which needs to be pointed out.

  And as always, to my husband, for his unfailing support and encouragement.

  I love keeping in touch with readers and would be thrilled to hear from you! Join or follow me at any (or all!) of the social media links below!

  Amazon

  Bookbub

  Website

  Facebook Author Page

  Facebook Reader Group: A Regency House Party

  Twitter

  Read More by Annabelle Anders

  Devilish Debutantes Series

  Hell Hath No Fury

  Hell in a Hand Basket

  Hell Hath Frozen Over (Novella)

  Hell’s Belle

  Hell of a Lady

  Lord Love a Lady Series

  Nobody’s Lady

  A Lady’s Prerogative

  Lady Saves the Duke

  Devilish Debutantes Series

  Hell Hath No Fury (Devilish Debutante’s, Book 1)

  To keep the money, he has to keep her as well…

  Cecily Nottingham has made a huge mistake.

  The marriage bed was still warm when the earl she thought she loved crawled out of it and announced that he loved someone else.

  Loves. Someone else.

  All he saw in Cecily was her dowry.

  But he’s in for the shock of his life, because in order to keep the money, he has to keep her.

  With nothing to lose, Cecily sets out to seduce her husband’s cousin, Stephen Nottingham, in an attempt to goad the earl into divorcing her. Little does she realize that Stephen would turn out to be everything her husband was not: Honorable, loyal, trustworthy…Handsome as sin.

  Stephen only returned to England for one reason. Save his cousin’s estate from financial ruin. Instead, he finds himself face to face with his cousins beautiful and scorned wife, he isn’t sure what to do first, strangle his cousin, or kiss his wife. His honor is about to be questioned, right along with his self-control.