by Dawn Brower
Francesca would like to believe she was smarter now, but there was no way to determine if she’d be so foolish over a man again. Her naivete had already came out shining on her first interaction with a handsome scoundrel. She wished she’d been at least smart enough to ask for his full name. Francesca wanted to slap him in the face for taking advantage of her.
Someone had to know who he was. He’d been at a family gathering after all. There were always more than family at Christmastide. They had friends of friends there. The question was how to discover his name without spilling her own secret along the way…
She sighed. It seemed too difficult. Matthew had been her downfall, and soon the entire ton would be able to see for themselves the mistake she’d made. There was only so much time left before her belly gave it away. Even in that she wasn’t certain how long it would be. She’d never been enceinte before…
“There you are,” Scarlett Kendall, the Marchioness of Blackthorn, Francesca’s mother said. “Why are you hiding out here?” Francesca inherited her strawberry blonde hair from her mother, though hers was lighter than her mother’s richer red. The marchioness had hers pulled back into a simple plait, and her day dress, while elegant, was also a simple butter yellow with white lace trim around the bodice.
They had arrived in London earlier that week to prepare for the season. Her comeout ball would be in a couple of days. At first she’d been excited for it. Now she wished she could cancel it. Doing so would be a scandal in itself though, and she wouldn’t add to her family’s embarrassment. She’d sneaked out to the garden to find some peace from all the preparations. They had decided to stay at her grandfather, the Duke of Weston’s, townhouse. The ballroom was larger and could accommodate the number of guests invited. After her ball they would retire to the smaller Blackthorn house.
“It’s a lovely day don’t you think?” It was actually quite chilly, but she’d needed the cooler air to help her overheated skin. She’d been ill at odd times of the day, and some days she seemed fine. At first she’d dismissed it as nerves. It wasn’t until a couple days ago she’d realized she couldn’t recall the last time her courses had come. “And there is so many people inside. It was stifling.” That part was the complete truth. Francesca had heard balls were so packed sometimes it was difficult to move. That sounded almost terrifying now considering her condition.
“I’m sorry,” her mother said. “Sometimes when one has to endure society obligations it can become unbearable.” She lifted her hand and brushed a stray lock behind Francesca’s ear. “But the good news is once this is done you can pick and choose what balls you wish to attend. Try to have fun.”
Francesca wished and wished… But wishing didn’t work. Her fate was already sealed. Since cancelling the ball was out of the question she’d see it through, and she would make a decision later what she should do next. She would like to at least attempt to uncover her baby’s father’s identity. If that wasn’t possible then she’d confess all to her parents. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
“I will have fun.” She smiled, but she didn’t feel even the slightest bit happy. Francesca wondered if she would ever feel that way again. “I’ve been looking forward to this ball for a while now.” And having her one night with Matthew had ruined it for her. “How could I not enjoy it. The preparations however…”
Her mother laughed. “They are tiresome.” The smile fell from her mother’s face. “Are you certain you are all right? I’ve been having strange dreams.”
Francesca’s heart raced. Her mother had a prognostic gift, and if she had dreams…they might give away her secret. “I’m fine.” She put more effort into her smile. “I promise. What were these dreams about?”
Her mother glanced away. “They were flashes really. You didn’t look happy, there was a man but I only saw him from the back. He had dark hair…” She shook her head. “It’s probably nothing. Maybe he’s the one you’re meant to fall in love with. The path isn’t always easy on the course to true love.”
Her mother couldn’t be more wrong. Matthew didn’t love her at all, and even if she found him Francesca doubted he’d take responsibility for the baby he’d help create. Still she had to try..
“You could be right. The ball is soon, and perhaps this mysterious man will be one of the guests.”
Her mother hugged her. “I hope whoever the man is that wins your heart realizes how lucky he is to have you.”
Francesca fought tears. Her voice was a little husky as she spoke, “I’m sure he will be worthy of it. I wouldn’t pick a man undeserving now would I?”
“No you wouldn’t,” she agreed. Her mother pulled back then came to her feet. “Do not stay out here too long. It’s too cold still.” With those words she left Francesca alone with her thoughts once again…
***
Matthew Grant, the Duke of Lindsey stared out the window in his study at his country estate, Lindy Castle. He’d grown up there. His parents had left him to the nanny’s and governess’s to raise. He didn’t understand love, so it was no wonder he had been taken low by it when he was a green lad.
One lady, slightly older, and perhaps wiser had stolen his young heart and then crushed it cruelly. After that disastrous mistake he vowed never to give his heart to another. He had none to give either way, and now his heartless mother had decided it was time for him to marry. As if Matthew couldn’t make a decision of his own.
If he wanted to marry there was one woman… He shook that thought away. Beautiful red haired beauties didn’t belong in his world. He should never have had a taste of her innocence to begin with. He’d been a rotten bastard, and he laid awake many nights regretting making love to her. He couldn’t go back and change it, and hell, he didn’t really want to. She was the only good thing he’d had in his life and he wanted to cherish that memory.
“Are you listening to me?” Agatha, the Dowager Duchess of Lindsey demanded. His mother had finally realized that he’d stopped paying attention to her.
He took a sip of the brandy he held in his hand, then glanced briefly over his shoulder. “I do my best to never listen to you,” he replied drolly. Why wouldn’t she go away?
“You need to stop this roguish behavior. There are no heirs in the line of succession to the Lindsey title. If you don’t marry and sire an heir…”
“The title will die with me.” He rolled his eyes. “I know this and do not need you to remind me of it.” He turned around and strolled back to his desk, then lifted the decanter to refill his glass. “I don’t bloody care if no one inherits the title. That seems far better than tying myself to a woman I’ll hate.”
“Once you have an heir you can ignore each other at your pleasure.” His mother smiled. “It’s an age old tradition.”
“One you and my father did with aplomb.” If his father hadn’t died nearly ten years ago he’d probably be harassing Matthew too. “Forgive me if I do not wish to follow in your footsteps. I will not marry some cold society miss because you believe I need an heir.”
His mother gasped. “Please tell me you do not have hopes to marry for love?”
Mathew burst into laughter. God help him. His mother was absolutely too much. “There is an appeal to that if you find it so offensive.” He sipped more brandy. “However I believe in love less than I believe in marriage. It’s a fantasy or for the very lucky.” One of his friends was part of the latter. The Earl of Winchester had somehow miraculously found love over Christmastide. He didn’t quite understand it. Love wasn’t the norm, and as rare as it was, Matthew had no doubts he’d ever find it.
“Well at least you’re not foolish enough to hold out for it.” She brushed imaginary crumbs off her shoulder. “Now about your fiancée…”
“Bloody hell mother,” he shouted at her as he slammed his glass on his desk. Brandy sloshed out and spilled over his hand. “I do not, nor will I ever have a damned fiancée. Stop this constant harping now.”
“I’m not giving up on you marrying.” She li
fted her chin in defiance. “But I will give you some time to consider what I’ve said. The dukedom is important and I do hope you’ll want to leave all of this to your son one day.”
He opened his mouth to yell at her again, but then reconsidered and closed it. Arguing with his mother would not help his situation. She believed what she did, and he had his own opinions. It was far better to put some distance between them. “I won’t change my mind.” The muscles in his jaws twitched. “And I am done with this discussion.” Somehow he managed to remain cool and composed.
“A duke doesn’t have the choice to refrain from marriage. If you don’t choose your bride, one will help you choose her. Mark my words.”
A flash of his red haired beauty came to mind again. He wanted her. Perhaps more than when he’d first met her. One taste hadn’t been enough. Maybe he would try to find her again. If he were forced to have one woman as his wife she might do. No. He shook that thought away. He didn’t want any bride…even her.
“You’re wrong,” he disagreed. “No woman will ever control me.” He’d made that mistake once. Matthew learned from his mistakes. Edith Whitcomb had taught him that valuable lesson. When she shredded him with her machinations, and false love. She’d had him wrapped around her finger, and convinced him she’d make a wonderful wife. He’d been ready to run away with her before his father had stepped in. He’d offered her a better prize—an old duke and the title of duchess sooner than if she’d married him. Of course she couldn’t have known Matthew’s father would have a fatal accident a few months later. She could have had a younger husband, and the title too.
She deserved the bed she’d made for herself, and Matthew was free from ever marrying. His father had done him a favor, and he appreciated it, but not enough to finding a different bride. Even one as lovely as his Francesca. She would be far better off finding a gentleman worthy of her. Matthew was rotten through and through, and he accepted that. “I’m happier alone.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” his mother said. “One day you might even believe it.”
He turned toward her. His mother was a lovely woman with hair the same black as his own, but she had light green eyes. There was some gray streaked through her dark locks, but only enough to make her seem even lovelier. She must have been quite the beauty in her day. “I already do believe it.”
With those words he left his unfinished brandy on his desk, then stalked out of the room. He would travel to London immediately. There at least he had his club for entertainments, and perhaps a whore or two to help him forget a woman he couldn’t erase from his mind on his own.
Excerpt: Forever My Earl
Ever Beloved One
Prologue
June 1804
The castle sat in the middle of rolling green hills. In the distance waves could be heard crashing on the shore of a nearby beach. Miss Hannah Knight had read about castles. In some ways this one lived up to her imagination. It was enormous in size, but it lacked a moat. She had really hoped she would be able to cross a real drawbridge like a medieval princess. Some dreams weren’t meant to happen. Honestly, how could she have believed the wilds of Kent would have lived up to her silly fantasies?
“How long will we be at Manchester Castle, Mama?” Hannah asked.
Lady Redding, her mother, smiled down at her. “A little over a fortnight poppet, I promised Lady Manchester we’d stay for a nice long visit. You’re one of her goddaughters and she hoped to have all three of you to herself for a time.”
Hannah nibbled on her lip in an unlady like manner. She’d only met Lady Manchester a few times when she was younger. This was her sixteenth summer and in a couple short years her mother promised she’d have her come out. She was too young to enter society yet. This was the conciliation her mother had given her—time spent with Lady Manchester in a real castle. So far she was mildly disappointed, but maybe the inside would make up for the lack of a drawbridge.
The carriage rolled along the road and bounced over several bumps or rocks. Hannah jostled in her seat and continued to stare at the castle. The distance was getting narrower and she could almost make out some of the fine details. The sound of hoof beats on the ground caught her attention. She shifted her gaze and saw a male riding a beautiful white horse. The kind fairytales brought to life. Her breath stilled and her heart beat rapidly in her chest. They were both beautiful. He had dark chestnut hair that curled around his ears as the wind blew it into a fine disarray. His riding breaches were form fitting he must have decided against a riding jacket and cravat because he wore a billowy white shirt that rippled in the breeze.
“Mama,” Hannah said gesturing toward the handsome male. “Who is that?”
“It’s rude to wave like that dear,” she brought her hand up and stilled Hannah’s. “I’m not sure, but it must be one of Lady Manchester’s sons.”
Her mother hadn’t mentioned that there might be potential suitors there. Oh, he was so fine-looking. She couldn’t wait to meet him in person. Would he have brown eyes or perhaps blue. Did it really matter? If there was such a thing as love at first sight Hannah had fallen willingly and completely into it. Maybe some dreams do come true…
“Do you know their names?” Hannah asked hopefully.
She wanted to ask more than that. How old were they. Were they married or betrothed. So much she didn’t know and she felt woefully ill prepared for all of it. The carriage couldn’t reach the castle entrance fast enough.
“One of them is the Earl of Manchester,” her mother said. “Nathanial Edwards or rather, Lord Manchester to you dear.” Was the male on the horse Lord Manchester? She wanted to find out and give a name to his perfect face. Her mother continued, “He is betrothed to Lady Lenora Andersen. They’re to be married while we are here.”
Hannah’s heart fell at her words. If it was the same male then he would never be hers. It was ridiculous of her to think she had a chance anyway. She was as plain as a girl could be. She had dark brown hair and equally dull brown eyes. No one ever stopped to look twice at her. Lady Lenora was a lucky girl to be marrying such an attractive man.
The carriage came to a stop in front of the castle. The horse thundered past it and the male stopped by the door. A stable boy took the reins from him and led the horse away. The man turned toward the carriage and nodded at someone Hannah couldn’t see.
The door to the carriage swung open and she met the gorgeous male’s gaze. His eyes were blue. That didn’t describe them nearly enough. They were a rich blue that matched the sea. His hair was even more beautiful in person. The rich chestnut was sprinkled with gold and it looked oh so soft. Hannah wished she was brazen enough to run her fingers through it to find out.
“Welcome to Manchester Castle,” he said. “May I assist from the carriage?”
“Where are your manners young man.” Her mother lifted a brow. “Properly introduce yourself first.”
Hannah giggled when he smiled sheepishly at her mother. “My apologies,” he said and bowed. “I am Lord Garrick Edwards and whose acquaintance am I making?” His gaze met Hannah’s again. She couldn’t answer him even if she wanted to. Her tongue wouldn’t move and her throat was starting to close up.
“I am Lady Redding and this is my daughter, Miss Hannah Knight.” She held her hand out to Lord Garrick. “Thank you for your assistance.”
He helped her mother out of the carriage and then returned to assist Hannah. She wanted to thank him. It was the right thing to do but her tongue was still not functioning as it should. Would she ever get over her the infernal shyness that plagued her?
“My mother has been expecting you,” he said. “Lady Lakeville, Lady Lenora, and Lady Corinne are already here. It’s going to be a festive two weeks up until the wedding. I hope you’re prepared for it all.”
Who was Lady Corinne? Was Lord Garrick betrothed to her? When she’d first heard his name she’d been hopeful once again. He wasn’t the earl who was about to marry. He was free if she… Well there went her foo
lish mind again thinking she had a chance with a man so handsome. Of course he would be taken with someone else. Lady Corinne was probably beautiful and his equal in everything—even for a second son such as Lord Garrick.
“It will be good to see Lady Lakeville again,” her mother said wistfully. “It’s been too long.”
Her mother didn’t leave Redding Manor enough. She often talked about her best friend and how she missed her. This visit was as much for Lady Redding as it was for Hannah.
“I’ll escort you inside,” Lord Garrick said. “They were in the salon gossiping when I left for my ride.”
The door swung open and a stiff older butler stood on the threshold. He lifted his chin up in the air as they approached. Lord Garrick nodded at him and the butler stepped aside.
“Bentley are the ladies still in the salon,” Lord Garrick asked.
The butler nodded, “Yes, my lord.”
Lord Garrick led them to the salon. The ladies were all sitting perfectly poised and drinking tea from dainty cups. The two younger ladies were picture perfect. They both wore muslin gowns of delicate pink with white silk flourishes. They appeared so identical that at first Hannah thought they were twins. Their hair was golden blond and plaited into a knot at the back of their head and their eyes were so blue they rivaled Lord Garrick’s in beauty. No wonder one or both of them had already snared a marriage proposal. Lady Lenora was marrying into the Manchester line, but was Lady Corinne as well?
“Mother,” Lord Garrick said as he leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I bring you the last of your guests. Lady Leonora, Lady Corinne, Lady Lakeville—May I introduce you to Lady Redding and her daughter Miss Knight.” He gestured toward Hannah and her mother. “Now if you’ll excuse me I must wash from my ride.”
He bowed to the ladies and exited. Hannah tried her best not to stare but it was difficult. He was too handsome and she wanted to follow him where ever he went. It broke her heart to realize he would never be hers.