Cosily snuggled in her rose-canopied bed, Holly wondered what her parents had planned for her birthday. A December baby, hence her middle name, Holly, she hoped her parents might throw her a ball. Everyone who was aquatinted with her called her Holly rather than by her first name, Annabelle. She was already ‘out’ and after a very successful season had received no less than five proposals of marriage.
However, her father had declared none of them suitable, insisting that Holly could do better. He would be surprised to know that his daughter agreed with him. Her mother had become somewhat distrait by the season’s end with no husband selected, but Holly consoled her, asking why she thought Holly should settle for less. After all, she was in possession of a pretty face and a fine figure; she had wealth and connections with some of the best families of the ton. She was still young; her fourth of December birthday would be her eighteenth. They all knew there would be a number of eligible gentlemen in attendance around the Christmas season, those gentlemen who would not normally be seen dead amongst the debutant ‘cattle markets’.
Take the Earl of Caulderbury, for instance. With an excited wriggle, Holly recalled his handsome features. She knew that if she landed the earl, all her parents’ hopes and dreams would have come to fruition. On that happy note, she turned her head to the pillow and slept.
Chapter 2
The birthday ball she’d hoped for came to pass and was well underway. Holly had yet to make her appearance, waiting upstairs for a summons. Meanwhile, Matilda, her maid, used the extra time afforded her to put some finishing touches to her mistress’s hair.
“Have you finished?” Holly asked, twisting on the dressing stool impatiently. She was aquiver with excitement. Her mother had extracted a promise from her to remain upstairs until she was sent for. Henrietta wanted her daughter to make a grand entrance, with the best impression she could.
“All finished, miss. Perhaps a twirl in front of the looking glass to see what you think?”
Holly needed no further urging. She spun around in front of the long French mirror that her parents had given her for her seventeenth birthday the previous year.
She liked what she saw. Her blue eyes glittered brightly, full of laughter as she perused herself dressed in an organza gown of silver and blue. Her cheeks were fashionably rosy, without the aid of rouge, as were her bow-shaped lips, now parted to show a row of white teeth, set in a heart-shaped face. Her sweet hourglass figure had many a gentleman’s blood pounding. In short, Miss Annabelle Holly Lushington was a luscious catch, and she was more than fully aware of her own charms.
A ratter-tat sent Matilda scurrying to the chamber door. It seemed her moment had come. Holly took a deep breath to calm the fluttering of her heart.
“Good luck, miss!”
“I do appreciate you, Matilda,” she said, kissing her maid’s cheek. The girl had been with her for the past five years, and Holly hoped she would agree to come with her after she married and moved on into her husband’s home.
Sweeping down the staircase into the crowded inner hall, Holly mentally thanked her mother for making sure the most eligible bachelors of the ton were contained there and thus kept from wandering into the main ballroom before Holly could catch their eye. She stopped near the bottom of the stairs. Her father clapped to draw everyone’s attention.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began.
Holly gazed about her, satisfied to see there were very few young ladies within the gathered crowd.
“We are assembled here tonight to help my beautiful daughter, Holly, celebrate her eighteenth birthday. Darling…” He held out his arm, and she stepped down the final steps, placing her palm in her father’s outstretched hand. He leant forward and kissed her forehead.
“Come, let us escort your suitors into the party.” Tucking her arm in his, he led her through into the glittering ballroom.
As soon as they were inside, Holly found herself besieged by gentlemen wishing to mark her dance card. Just as Lord Manning took her hand for her first reel, the Earl of Caulderbury materialised at her side.
“A moment, if you please, Manning. I believe Lady Annabelle promised me the first dance of the evening.”
Holly gasped at this blatant lie. She revised her opinion of Lord Mounthurst, for she actively disliked arrogance.
“I am afraid you are mistaken,” she said firmly. “I did no such thing.” Attempting to pull Lord Manning forward, she added pressure on the crook of his arm where her hand rested. “Come, sir,” she urged, but he remained rooted to the spot.
“If that is so, Caulderbury, then I am happy to forego the pleasure. The lady is all yours.” Bowing graciously to Holly, he said, “Please mark your card and pencil me in for a later dance, my dear.” He moved away, leaving Holly seething at the earl’s highhandedness.
She gritted her teeth. The earl stepped in, cool as you please, to usurp the Viscount’s position at her side.
“Shall we…” He slid his arm about her waist, giving a firm tug so she found herself held flush against his masculine frame. Heat stained her cheeks.
Reluctantly, she placed a gloved hand upon his arm, and he swept her onto the dance floor with a proficient grace she knew her previous partner would have lacked. They spoke little as the dance progressed. As soon as it was over, he guided her back to where her father stood conversing with a group of guests.
“I should like a word, Lushington, in private if you could spare me a few moments,” Caulderbury interrupted haughtily.
Holly glared at the man. How rude to make demands to speak with her father at her birthday ball? Before she could formulate a suitable set down, her next dance partner arrived and drew her away for their dance. She had to be satisfied with throwing the earl a dark scowl. He raised a sardonic eyebrow at her before turning to follow her father from the ballroom.
The evening progressed in a twirl of giddy pleasure. Refreshing homemade lemonade, and finally a sumptuous birthday supper followed the dance. At the end of the feasting there came a tinkling sound which drew her attention. Her father was tapping a glass with his spoon. An expectant hush fell about the table.
Holly bashfully lowered her gaze; a small smile of pleasure hovered over her mouth. How sweet, her father was going to toast her birthday. It seemed she was proven right. Footmen arrived with trays of glasses brimming with pale, sparkling champagne. They circled discreetly, placing a glass in front of each guest.
“As you know, tonight is my dearest daughter Annabelle Holly’s eighteenth birthday, but that is not wholly the reason that I invited you all here this evening.”
Holly was nonplussed. It isn’t? Her father smiled across the table at her.
“I am proud and happy to announce the betrothal between my daughter, Lady Annabelle Holly Mable Lushington, and Lord Gregory Richard Anthony Godfrey Mounthurst, Earl of Caulderbury. Ladies and gentlemen, I bid you rise.”
Everyone around her stood. Holly sat frozen in place.
What?
“Please join me in a toast to the betrothed couple!”
People sank back down into their seats after the toast. Holly looked over at Lord Caulderbury as he clasped her father’s hand. He glanced up and caught her eye. They stared at one another. He rose suddenly to his feet and closed the distance between them. Her mouth went dry. The words ‘be careful what you wish for’ echoed in her head. She was not ready for this.
His progress was slowed by guests detaining him to offer their congratulations. Holly admitted he was a charmingly handsome man. The gentlemen pumped his hand. A bevy of simpering ladies took the opportunity to kiss his cheek and offer him congratulations.
Had this announcement been made yesterday, she might have been pleased by the sudden turn of events, but after tonight’s interaction with the earl, she was worried.
Knowing that her parents would chose her husband had not prepared her for the feeling of futility that swamped her. Mounthurst had not even asked her personally for her hand in marriage before the
announcement was made. Neither of her parents had sought her opinion on the match. It appeared she was nothing more than a pawn to be bartered.
Desperately needing to escape, Holly felt she could no longer remain and stood. With a fixed smile she hastened through the throng. Her mother’s eyes widened—she had caught sight of her daughter ploughing through the well-wishers, but luckily, she was too far away to attempt interference.
Holly had just taken her first step on the staircase when a large gloved hand clasped her upper arm, halting her progress.
“You cannot leave without first speaking with me.” It was Caulderbury.
Holly tried to shake his hand from her arm, but his grip was firm.
“I can and I will. Goodnight, Lord Mounthurst.”
“Come, do not behave so childishly,” he reproached. “Although perhaps at eighteen that is exactly what you are.”
His rude arrogance simmered her blood.
“You are a bully and a sneak, sir; unhand me at once!”
He looked bewildered.
“A sneak…how so?”
Ah, so he accepted my judgement that he is a bully.
“It is usual for a gentleman to ask a lady for her hand in marriage before approaching her father. Although why I expect manners from a man so obviously lacking in basic propriety is another matter. Perhaps it was your title that led me to believe you were a gentleman.”
His flinty gaze regarded her for an uncomfortable moment. Then the frown cleared from his forehead. It appeared that he had come to some kind of decision. He removed his hand from her arm.
“You are absolutely right. I apologise and formally request an audience with you. I shall call upon you at eleven of the clock on the morrow. Goodnight, my lady, sweet dreams.”
Holly flushed. His apology was unexpected. Lifting her chin, she hurried upwards, not giving him the satisfaction of a single backward glance.
She was settled in bed when her stepmother entered. Holly sat up in surprise. Since she had left the nursery, she could not recall her stepmother ever visiting her chamber.
“Ah, good, you are still awake. Your father wished me to check on you since you departed the celebrations so promptly. Are you unwell, my dear?”
Holly was no fool, and she realised Henrietta was concerned about her reaction to the sudden betrothal.
“I am disappointed in Papa. Surely he should have warned me before tonight? I cannot believe that he has betrothed me to a man who has barely spoken one word to me over the past season. It is bad ton, Mama, and an insult to me.” She did not mince her words. Anger made her bold and perhaps harsher with her stepmother than she ought to be.
Henrietta sat beside her on the bed; a worry frown creased her forehead.
“Your papa does not wish you to know this, child, but I think you should be informed that your father is deeply in debt. He took out a very large loan two years ago in order to make an investment in a railway project that investors thought certain to make money; however, it failed abysmally. The repayments have left us totally without means. The earl approached your father at the beginning of the season and made him a proposition. He was in need of a wife after the period of mourning for his first wife had passed, but he wanted to observe you from afar before he made any offer for you.”
“I-I don’t know what to say. What will happen to all of you if I refuse the earl’s offer?”
“We shall manage. It will mean selling up and leaving London, but if you feel you cannot marry him then I shall support your case against your father. He loves you so much that he will not force you into matrimony with a man who does not suit. It was only last week that matters were finalised between them. The earl is a strange man, but he is honourable. He suggested he would settle a dowry on you in compensation if he decided not to marry you, so that you could make a suitable alliance next year.”
“I see.”
“Your father showed me the legal papers today which the earl has pre-signed. The only legal requirement left is for your marriage contract to be signed.”
“So if I marry Lord Mounthurst, he will pay all Father’s debts, and you can all stay here?” Holly clarified.
“My dear, he has promised to do so much more than that. The earl has kindly offered to settle money on us and will pay a dowry for both Isabella and Elizabeth at their coming out.”
Holly swallowed her pride. She knew she had to go through with this marriage. The man was attractive and titled; she had imagined becoming his wife. Mountfield had agreed to save her family from penury. It was her bounden duty to agree, and agree she would. After all, she had expected to marry the man her father had selected for her, and the earl was her father’s choice.
“Tell Papa that I shall do as he wishes and accept the Earl of Caulderbury.”
Henrietta leant in and hugged her.
“Thank you, darling. You know that I could not love you more if you were my own daughter.”
“I love you too! You brought me up, and to me you are my Mama.”
Lying wakeful through the long, dark night, her mind a hive of contradictory factors, Holly finally concluded that the best way for her to find happiness was to be determined to make her marriage work. Exhausted by her own churning emotions, she slept, albeit fitfully.
Chapter 3
By George, she was a feisty piece and the complete opposite of his first wife, Beatrice, his sweet Bunty. The thing he appreciated about Lady Annabelle was that difference to his deceased wife. If only he and Bunty had been lucky enough to have had a son, he would never have been in this position of needing to marry again. As it was, this betrothal felt like a complete betrayal of his dear Bunty’s trust, despite the fact she had died nearly two years ago.
His mind snapped shut. The only way he could cope with this courting business was to deliberately not recall any memory of life with Bunty.
His mother had finally made him see where his duty lay, with the succession, continuing the line, thus honouring the family name. All of which meant Gregory needed to produce a son and heir, and to achieve this he had to marry for a second time.
His search had been short, his eye immediately drawn to the luscious curves of Holly Lushington, a blue-blooded filly of impeccable lineage. His cock approved, which was somewhat of a surprise because he’d not felt more than infrequent twinges in that department since Bunty had died. Once again, his mind slid hastily away from painful memories.
He had studied Holly from afar, keeping his distance, unwilling to raise the chit’s hope of marriage to an earl, wishing to observe her manners and decorum throughout the season, yet without her knowledge. He had attended many of the social occasions where she had been invited and remained out of sight. Surprisingly, Gregory had found himself both amused and entranced by her. Being physically different from Bunty was a huge bonus to him. He did not wish to be reminded of her every waking minute, nor did he wish to be making comparisons between the two women.
He concluded that Holly was a kindly girl, as evidenced by how often he’d witnessed her introduce a beau to a wallflower. He took note of the fact that she was mischievous, too, and perhaps even a little naughty as he watched her pick up her croquet ball and move it into a better position, laughingly returning it when called out upon her cheating by her friend. This had taken place at a house party he had attended, seeing the by-play from the window seat of the upstairs billiards room.
Her childish display of dancing a waltz with her friend at the Holden’s Christmas Ball had clinched it for him. She had enough confidence to take up the position of his wife without reminding him daily of what he had lost. Gregory would be able to bed her, as his cock had frequently evidenced whenever he had sight of her. He also felt confident he could leave her to her own devices without the need for his constant supervision. She had been trained as a lady, and from his observations, acted like one, too.
He would fulfil her expectation to make her a formal proposal in the morning. Gregory wished to avoid any misunderst
andings. This was a match, yes, but no tendre was involved; he wanted Lady Lushington. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Oh my, her name was pure serendipity. She must be made to understand that she was to be his wife, but not as a love match. He had to be careful not to mislead the girl. So long as she obeyed her vows and fulfilled her role as his wife, he would promise to endow her with whatever material things she required.
Of course, he wanted to beget an heir with her alluring body, but sex would be the sole interaction between them. He intended that she should pursue her own life, leaving him free to continue with his business interests and the running of his estate.
He arrived promptly at eleven the following morning, having stopped en route to carefully select a bouquet, one that would give his betrothed precisely the right message. Thankfully, being the correct time of year for berry-laden holly, he knew he would be giving her a clear message. Their marriage was to be one of domestic bliss. The intertwined ivy promised duty, fidelity, wedded love, and affection. This bouquet was selected to dash any romantic expectations on her part.
He was met at the door by the butler and found himself ushered through the house into an impressive conservatory full of orange trees and large aspidistras. A small King Charles spaniel lay sprawled upon a low cane sofa which was strewn with colourful cushions. He patted the animal’s silky head. The dog opened one brown eye, thumped his plume of a tail, and promptly fell back to sleep. It was surprisingly warm inside the orangery. Pale winter sunlight flooded the room, raising the temperature. He found it a pleasant place to sit.
Drowsing beside the animal, he came to as a footman entered bearing a large tea tray which he set upon a table across from where Gregory sat. The sound of heels clipping along the hallway became louder, and Lady Annabelle appeared in the doorframe. Gregory stood. He had to admit she was lovely. The light burnished her golden curls. Her skin glowed pale apricot, the perfect foil for her lavender-blue eyes. Her un-rouged, naturally pink lips lifted at the corners. She sank into an elegant curtsy which had the effect of showing off the soft rounded globes of her bosom to perfection. He shifted uncomfortably; an inappropriate erection strained against his breeches.
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