Flirting with His Forbidden Lady--A Regency Family is Reunited

by Laura Martin

  ‘I love you, Beth.’

  ‘I love you, Annabelle.’

  They embraced for a long while, only pulling apart as Beth heard the hooves of the horses pulling their carriage slow to a stop outside.

  ‘It’s time,’ Josh said, taking Beth by the hand and giving Annabelle a kiss on the cheek.

  Hand in hand Beth and Josh descended the steps and climbed up into the carriage. They leaned out and waved as they moved away, looking back until they rounded the corner and the house behind them was obscured from view.

  ‘Any regrets?’ Josh asked, coming to sit on the padded seat beside her.

  ‘None at all.’ She felt sad to be leaving her sister behind, but she didn’t regret her decision. They were off to start their new life together and Beth couldn’t wait to set foot on the ship that would take them there.

  Josh enveloped her in his arms and kissed her, only stopping when they reached the docks half an hour later.

  ‘Shall we, Mrs Ashburton?’

  ‘Lead on, Mr Ashburton.’

  Beth felt the slight wobble of the gangplank as she stepped off the solid land of the docks, but she straightened herself and boarded the ship with a steady step. She looked to the horizon, wondering at the change in her fate these last few months, then all thought was swept from her mind as Josh picked her up and twirled her round before murmuring something about their wedding night in her ear.

  Epilogue

  ‘Close your eyes,’ Josh said, his excitement contagious.

  Beth did as she was bid, closing her eyes lightly so her eyelashes brushed against her cheeks. The sun was warm on her face, despite the parasol she held above her head. They were travelling in an open-top carriage; Josh had insisted it was the best way to introduce her to her new country, her new home. So far he hadn’t been wrong. The sights of the crowded streets, the colourful clothes of the residents, the scent of the exotic spices, all were better appreciated in the open air.

  Now they were approaching their new home, climbing the lush green hills, and with every second Beth felt the anticipation build. Josh had described the estate in so much detail she felt as though she had already walked the cool hallways of the house and explored the lush green rolling hills that made up their land.

  ‘Are you ready?’

  Beth nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation. This was her new home, the house she would be mistress of, the place they would start their family and live their lives.

  ‘Open them.’

  She did. Slowly lifting her lashes to let her eyes adjust to the bright sunlight, Beth gasped, unable to believe quite how beautiful it was. The house was painted white with grand pillars framing the front door and large windows to let in the sunlight. It was large but didn’t lack character as some sprawling mansions did. In front of the house was a pretty little fountain and laid out to each side neat little gardens. The white of the house contrasted wonderfully with the deep greens of the surrounding rolling hills and it was built in such a way that it had uninterrupted views all the way down to the sparkling sea.

  ‘Oh, Josh, it’s beautiful.’

  ‘I know.’ He kissed her and Beth saw the happiness in his eyes. He might have loved his time in London and enjoyed the voyage, but here he was at his happiest. Here was his home. ‘Come on, I want to show you everything.’

  He gripped her hand and helped her down from the carriage, pulling her along in his excitement to give her a tour around her new home. Outside the house a small group of servants awaited them, smartly dressed and smiling broadly at their master’s return.

  ‘This is Heena. Heena, I would like you to meet my wife. Heena is our housekeeper. She was my nursemaid when I first came to live here with the Usbournes and when I built my own house I asked her to come and be my housekeeper.’

  ‘I could never say no to you,’ Heena said, smiling fondly at Josh before turning her attention to Beth.

  She was a woman in her late forties, plump and short with glowing skin and one of the widest smiles Beth had ever seen. She stepped forward and took Beth by the hand.

  ‘I am so happy to meet you, Mrs Ashburton. Anything you need, anything at all, you let me know.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Introduction after introduction followed in a whirl and Beth knew it would take her some time to learn all the names and roles. All the staff seemed eager to meet her and friendly, and she could see they were happy to have Josh back home.

  ‘I know everyone is watching,’ Josh murmured in her ear once they had finished with the introductions, ‘but I’m going to pick you up now and carry you over the threshold.’

  He grinned at her, not giving her a chance to reply, and swooped her up into his arms.

  Beth wriggled until he gave her a stern look, stilled for a second and then wriggled some more.

  ‘This dress must weigh a stone.’

  ‘Is that your way of telling me I’m getting heavy?’

  ‘Not at all, my lovely wife. Just your clothing must weigh more than when I did this on our wedding night.’

  ‘Hmm.’ She couldn’t be mad at him. She was heavier. They had spent much of the six-month voyage to India in their cabin and at some point something miraculous had happened inside her. By her calculations she was about four months pregnant, her belly just starting to round. She hadn’t told Josh yet, wanting to tell him once they were here and settled so he wouldn’t spend the whole trip worrying about her.

  He carried her inside and Beth expected him to place her down in the hall but instead he kept her in his arms.

  ‘I know I should show you the house,’ he said softly in her ear, ‘but I really think you would like to see the bedroom the most.’

  ‘For its wonderful view? Or perfect proportions? Or perhaps because the furniture is so well made?’

  ‘All of those things are true, but I have to admit to more nefarious motives.’

  ‘Nefarious? Now I’m intrigued.’

  ‘Intrigued enough to skip the rest of the tour?’

  ‘The rest of the house will still be here later.’

  ‘I love you, Mrs Ashburton.’ He took the stairs two at a time and Beth was only able to catch glimpses of the light-filled house as he whisked her up to the bedroom. Once inside he kicked the door closed with his foot and then carried her over to the bed, depositing her on the crisp white sheets.

  ‘The Usbournes will be here later. I sent a message asking them to join us for dinner at seven. By my calculations that gives us three wonderful hours to test the robustness of this bed.’

  ‘I will need to get dressed for dinner.’

  ‘Fine. Two hours and forty-five minutes.’

  ‘And do my hair.’

  ‘The Usbournes will love you even if you greet them with your hair tangled like a bird’s nest.’

  ‘I’m not sure that is the first impression I want to make,’ she said, laughing.

  Josh cut her laugh short with a deep kiss and suddenly perfectly pinned hair seemed less of a priority. With a soft moan she sank back onto the bed, feeling the wonderful weight of her husband’s body above hers.

  * * *

  Two hours and forty-five minutes later Beth was rushing to fix her hair whilst Josh muttered as he pulled at the laces on her dress. She had spent the entirety of the voyage without a ladies’ maid and as such Josh was now reasonably proficient at fastening her dresses, although not as good as he was at unfastening them. Even so, when he helped her to dress there were always mutterings about the unnecessary complexity of women’s garments.

  ‘Do you think they will like me?’

  Josh paused, his hands falling still on her shoulders. ‘Of course, my darling. They will love you. How could they not?’

  ‘They’re such a big part of your life.’

  He dropped a kiss on the bare skin of her neck.
<
br />   ‘All they’ve ever wanted is for me to be happy. You make me happy. So they will love you for that even before they get to know you and love you simply for being you.’

  ‘I’ve got something to tell you, Josh,’ she said, spinning to face him. ‘I think I’m pregnant.’

  His eyes flicked down to her abdomen, a smile spreading across his face. Beth squealed as he picked her up and spun her round, setting her back down gently and placing a hand over her subtle bump.

  ‘Not just six months of fine dinners in there, then.’

  She swatted him but the movement was cut short as he leaned in for a kiss.

  ‘I love you, Beth.’

  ‘I love you, Josh.’

  His hand was still on her abdomen when there was a soft knock on the door. He moved away to answer it, taking a letter from the person outside.

  ‘It’s just arrived. From England.’

  Beth smiled, recognising her sister’s handwriting. No doubt many letters would arrive over the coming weeks. Annabelle had promised to write weekly, although it would take six months for the letters to cross the oceans to get here.

  Eagerly Beth tore open the envelope, tears forming in her eyes as she recognised Annabelle’s elegant looping handwriting.

  My darling Beth,

  How I miss you already. It has only been three weeks since you set sail, but it feels like a lifetime. So much has happened I barely know where to begin.

  Mr Ashburton has been true to his word and is helping us sell Birling View. We have been to see a few cottages that would be suitable. Mother finds fault with all of them, of course, but I think once she has accepted that we have to move she will be forced into a decision.

  One is just outside of Eastbourne, with beautiful views over the sea. I loved it and liked imagining that you might one day be looking out of your window over the ocean whilst I’m looking out of mine.

  I do have some more news, but I hesitate to tell you. It isn’t anything definite yet, and I can’t quite believe it is happening. In fact I’m not sure it will happen. Perhaps I will write in a week and let you know when things are a bit clearer, once Mr Ashburton has clarified the situation.

  Do write and tell me all about your new home. I miss you dearly, Beth, and I hope you are happy.

  All my love,

  Annabelle

  ‘Read this,’ Beth said, holding out the letter to Josh after a second read-through. She was frowning, wondering what the news could be that Annabelle was holding back.

  ‘How mysterious.’

  ‘What do you think it could be?’

  Josh shrugged, handing her back the letter. ‘Perhaps Leo has found her a position as a companion or something.’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘Or perhaps he means to marry her.’

  Beth blinked, looking back down at the letter as if willing it to divulge some more clues, but the words on the page didn’t offer anything more up.

  ‘Marry her?’

  ‘You’re right. Probably a stupid suggestion.’

  There was another knock on the door and the maid informed them Mr and Mrs Usbourne’s carriage had been sighted at the end of the driveway. Beth forced herself to put down the letter and focus on the evening ahead, even though her head was spinning from the possibilities.

  ‘Are you ready?’

  She nodded and, arm in arm, they walked downstairs. For a moment she thought of her sister, thousands of miles away in England, and wondered if she was doing something similar and then Josh kissed her on the cheek, distracting her completely as they waited for their guests to arrive.

  ‘I love you,’ he murmured to her as his guardians stepped out of the carriage, all smiles and warmth. As they came and embraced her, with Josh by her side, Beth realised she already felt at home here. All she needed to be completely and utterly happy was her husband holding her hand and the little flutter of life inside her.

  * * *

  If you enjoyed this story, why not check out

  these other great reads by Laura Martin

  The Viscount’s Runaway Wife

  The Brooding Earl’s Proposition

  Her Best Friend, the Duke

  One Snowy Night with Lord Hauxton

  And look out for the next book in

  The Ashburton Reunion miniseries,

  coming soon!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Wagering on the Wallflower by Eva Shepherd.

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  Wagering on the Wallflower

  by Eva Shepherd

  Chapter One

  London—1885

  For many people, hell was fire, brimstone and red-faced devils poking you with sharp, pointed pitchforks. But not for Lady Hazel Springfeld. For her, hell was being forced to wear an overly fussy pink ballgown and having to spend the evening being dragged around the dance floor by a boorish man, while mocking society ladies tittered behind their fans.

  Yes, she was in hell. But it was a hell she was going to have to endure. After all, what choice did a young lady of twenty-three have? This was her fifth Season. Her fifth year of trying to find a suitable husband. Her fifth year of being ignored by all the attractive eligible men, who flocked round the pretty girls like bees around the honeypot. Her fifth year of being pursued by men like Lord Halthorpe, who were prepared to overlook her flaws and focus instead on the substantial financial sum they would acquire as part of her marriage settlement.

  While being left on the shelf was becoming increasingly likely, it was also becoming increasingly attractive. If it was a choice between being left on the shelf or marrying Lord Halthorpe, then Hazel would happily climb up on to the highest shelf and remain there for the rest of her life.

  She smiled to herself, imagining what her shelf would be like. It would be a delightful refuge away from everyone who had ever accused her of not being graceful enough, pretty enough or suitably demure enough to attract a man. It would contain all the latest scientific journals and books on astronomy, chemistry and physics. And she could sit up there all day long, reading to her heart’s content, without anyone passing judgement on what was or wasn’t correct behaviour for a genteel young lady.

  Yes, the shelf was starting to appear rather enticing.

  Lord Halthorpe sent her a gap-toothed smile. ‘Good to see you smiling, my dear. I take it you’re enjoying this dance.’

  ‘Mmm...’ she replied, doing her best to avoid telling a lie.

  ‘I think we might be in for some rain later,’ he murmured in her ear, causing her to draw back quickly to stop his walrus moustache from tickling her cheek.

  The weather. That old standby for social chit-chat. Hazel suppressed a sigh and tried to ignore the smell of brandy and cigars coming off his breath. She was at least going to have to try to make polite conversation. Especially as her mother was watching from the edge of the dance floor, concern etched on her face.

  ‘Yes.’ She forced herself to smile. ‘Earlier today I noticed nimbus clouds were moving in, suggesting we’re in for some rain within the next twenty-four hours, and the drop in the atmospheric pressure probably means there will be an increase in the strength of the wind as well. Perhaps not storm conditions, but definitely a weather event of some significance.’

  Hazel knew she shouldn’t do it. Hadn’t her mother told her often enough that men do not like clever women? She had promised her that tonight she would try, really, really hard, to act suitably mindless, but oh, the tedium that came with talking about the weather, how pretty the flowers looked or how lovely the ballroom had been decorated. Just once, she wished she could have a conversation with a man that didn’t
cause her to feel she was being crushed under the momentous weight of boredom.

  Lord Halthorpe looked back at her with a familiar expression of suppressed irritation, one that confirmed her mother’s claim that showing any signs of intelligence was not the way to capture a man’s heart.

  ‘Hmm, yes,’ he mumbled, his strained smile as artificially held in place as his waxed moustache. ‘I say, that’s a lovely ribbon you’ve got in your hair, my dear. Matches your blue eyes.’

  Hazel replied with an equally false smile, then joined him in wincing as her feet once again crushed his toes.

  Poor Lord Halthorpe had now joined the ranks of men whose feet had been reduced to a state resembling mashed potatoes under Hazel’s unruly feet. Making mindless chit-chat wasn’t the only social skill she had failed to master. When it came to dancing, having the proverbial two left feet would be a vast improvement on the clodhopping hooves she possessed.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Lord Halthorpe.’

  ‘Not at all, my dear. My fault entirely,’ he said through gritted teeth.

  Hazel had to give him some credit for his high pain threshold. Or was it simply that he knew how much she was worth? Perhaps the thought of getting his hands on the dowry that came with marrying the Earl of Springfeld’s plain, frumpy eldest daughter was enough to make him impervious to pain.

  Hazel knew that her dowry was by far her most attractive feature for men like Lord Halthorpe. It certainly wasn’t her looks he was attracted to. She was painfully aware that her nose was too long, her face too round and plump, and as for her hair, birds’ nests were more orderly than the unfashionable riot of curls that passed for her crowning glory. The attributes of which she was most proud were not the ones men generally admired. She could quickly calculate mathematical problems in her head, could grasp scientific principles faster than any man she had met and was a quick learner in all academic subjects in general. But who cared about that?