Her Every Wish

by Courtney Milan

  “Thank you,” Daisy said.

  He met Daisy’s eyes. “I voted for your proposal at the end.”

  She blinked.

  He shrugged. “Scant comfort, I imagine, to know the final tally was one against four. But if you want that comfort, there it is.”

  The bell rang as Daisy stared in stunned confusion. “Thank you,” she managed. “And thank you for your patronage.”

  She didn’t have time to say more. The bell rang yet again, and soon her emporium was flooded with customers. The class on dressing hair as a single woman without assistance was filled by eleven; she added an additional day, and that was filled by noon. She had to replenish the bangles from the store she kept in the back twice, the scarves three times, and the hairpins… Lord, she’d need to order more of those the minute she had a chance.

  If this kept up, she would need to hire a shop girl. She’d need two.

  At ten minutes from closing, the shop was still full. She scarcely looked when the bell rang again.

  She saw a man removing a dark hat, a flash of auburn hair. The man was holding a young girl’s hand. The child smiled brightly at Daisy, her red hair a cloud of curls around her.

  “Can I—” the girl started.

  Daisy recognized her; she’d been sitting on her father’s lap during the competition.

  “Go ahead, pumpkin.” The man released her hand. He didn’t look at Daisy.

  But he accompanied his daughter to the register when she returned in five minutes. The little girl placed a bracelet of wooden beads on the counter.

  “Two pence, please.”

  Her father set two pennies down and looked directly at Daisy. “I wasn’t sure about you then. But my daughter was at the competition, and she’s been asking me to go to your store.” He trailed off, frowning. “I’m still not sure.”

  “Enjoy the bracelet,” Daisy said to the young girl. “We’ll have new ones in next week, so be sure to stop by.”

  Her father let out a sigh.

  “I will!” promised the child. “Papa, look at my wrist.”

  “I see it, poppet. It’s very pretty. Just like the rest of you.”

  He was the last to leave, and as Daisy locked the door behind him and drew the curtains, she wanted to laugh triumphantly. She wanted to waltz around the room. And she would, right after she collapsed to the floor in a puddle of weariness.

  Footsteps sounded behind her. Then a voice spoke in low tones.

  “I believe I promised that you would have tea and pastries, madam.”

  Daisy turned.

  Crash stood behind her. He’d come in through the back door that joined their two shops. He had a tray, one stocked with sandwiches and some biscuits that he must have set aside earlier, because she’d been positive there was nothing but crumbs.

  “I tried to bring you something at eleven,” he said, “but you were busy. So…” He set the tray down in her sitting area and waved her to a seat. “Sit.”

  She did. “How was your day?” Crash had opened his velocipede store over a month ago.

  He didn’t sit beside her. He knelt in front of her on the floor and very gently removed a slipper. His fingers pressed into the ball of her foot, into sore flesh that had been abused all day. She let out a little moan.

  He shrugged. “Delightful. The appointment system you came up with last week has cut down the worst of the arguments. Who knew that the velocipede would prove so popular? One would have to be a downright genius to foresee that.”

  She took a sandwich and bit into it. She was hungry, and his fingers were pulling all the aches from her feet, her calves.

  “You foresaw that,” she pointed out. “You did.”

  He looked up at her with a glitter in his eyes. “Ah. So I did. In fact, I suppose my genius is matched only by that of someone who recognized the need for a store catering to working-class women.”

  “Ah.” Daisy smiled. The shop needed to be swept, the shelves restocked, new goods ordered, and the books done… She would never sleep. “Yes. My genius is much overtaxed at the moment.”

  If tomorrow was like today, she’d have to hire someone.

  “I’m greatly pleased,” Crash said, moving his hands up stockinged feet, “that my wife is also a genius. There’s wine upstairs and dinner.”

  Daisy sighed. “After. I still have to—”

  Crash shook his head. “When I saw how busy you were, I asked Cecilia Evans to come by in fifteen minutes. She’ll clean and restock, and you can eat dinner.”

  “Eat dinner.” Daisy smiled at him. “Is that what we’re calling it these days? You didn’t just promise me tea and pastries.”

  “So I didn’t. I know what else you need.”

  Daisy waited.

  “You’ll need a good night’s sleep.” His tone was pious. His look—and the touch of his hand against her knee—was utterly wicked.

  “Hmm.” She considered him. “Do you know what helps me sleep?”

  His smile broadened. “Yes,” he said. “Now that you mention it? Yes, I do.”

  Thank you!

  Thank you for reading Her Every Wish. I hope you enjoyed it.

  So what happens with everyone else in the Worth family?

  Her Every Wish is a side story in the Worth Saga. The Worth Saga is a story about the Worth family—Judith, Benedict, Camilla, Theresa, Anthony, and some others you haven’t yet met.

  * * *

  If you haven’t read Judith’s story yet, it’s available as Once Upon a Marquess.

  * * *

  If you want to know when the next book in the Worth Saga will be out, please sign up for my new release e-mail list at www.courtneymilan.com.

  What can you tell me about the next book?

  Next up is After the Wedding. Camilla Worth and Adrian Hunter will cross paths, and sparks will fly.

  What do you mean others you haven’t yet met?

  There are seven full-length books in the series. The Worth Saga is, of course, a series about the Worth family. But it’s also a series about an organization (which you’ll first discover in Book 3, The Devil Comes Courting) and another family (which you’ll meet for the first time in Book 2, After the Wedding). And, as with all my series, there will be a handful of novellas that explore side characters.

  You can read an excerpt from Camilla’s book right after this page.

  When will all these books release?

  I’m not a fast writer, unfortunately, and I’m extremely bad at predicting when I’m going to finish a book. At my best guess, maybe late in 2016 for Camilla’s book? Add question marks to the end of any date I ever give you. Add lots of question marks. If you want to get an email when my books become available, you can sign up for my new release e-mail list at www.courtneymilan.com. Or you can follow me on twitter at @courtneymilan, or like my Facebook page at http://facebook.com/courtneymilanauthor.

  I don’t want to wait that long! What can I do in the meantime?

  I have three other finished historical romance series (as well as a handful of stories that aren’t in any series). If you’re new to my books, I suggest starting The Brothers Sinister Series with The Duchess War. It’s free on most platforms right now. It’s the first book in the Brothers Sinister series, and it’s about Robert Blaisdell, the Duke of Clermont, who doesn’t want to be a duke, and Minnie the shy wallflower who doesn’t want to be a duchess.

  * * *

  After that, you might want to read The Turner Series and The Carhart Series.

  * * *

  If you haven’t tried it yet, I also have a contemporary romance series. Trade Me is the first book in the series. It has all the things you know and love about Courtney Milan books (humor, angst, and lengthy author’s notes about things I couldn’t stop researching), but there are bonus smartwatches. Come for the technology; stay for foul-mouthed billionaires and jokes about insider trading.

  * * *

  If you’ve already read all my books, I have a list of recommendations for o
ther authors on my website at http://www.courtneymilan.com.

  After the Wedding: Excerpt

  Adrian Hunter has concealed his identity and posed as a servant to assist his powerful uncle. He’s on the verge of obtaining the information he needs when circumstances spiral out of his control. He’s caught alone with a woman he scarcely knows. When they’re discovered in this compromising circumstance, he’s forced to marry her at gunpoint. Luckily, his uncle should be able to obtain an annulment. All Adrian has to do is complete his mission…and not consummate the marriage, no matter how enticing the bride may be.

  * * *

  Lady Camilla Worth has never expected much out of life—not since her father was convicted of treason and she was passed from family to family. A marriage, no matter how unfortunate the circumstances under which it was contracted, should mean stability. It’s unfortunate that her groom doesn’t agree. But Camilla has made the best of worse circumstances. She is determined to make her marriage work. All she has to do is seduce her reluctant husband.

  From Chapter One

  Lady Camilla Worth had dreamed of marriage ever since she was twelve years of age.

  It didn’t have to be marriage. It didn’t have to be romantic. Sometimes she imagined that one of the girls whose acquaintance she made—however briefly—would become her devoted friend, and they would swear a lifelong loyalty to one another. She’d daydreamed when she lived in Leeds about becoming a companion—no, an almost-granddaughter—to an elderly woman who lived three houses down.

  “What would I ever do without you, Camilla?” old Mrs. Marsdell would say as Camilla wormed her way into her heart.

  But Old Mrs. Marsdell never stopped frowning at her suspiciously, and Camilla had been packed up and shunted off to another family long before she’d had a chance to charm anyone.

  That was all she had ever wanted. One person, just one, who promised not to leave her. She didn’t need love. She didn’t need wealth. After nine times packing her bags and boarding trains, braving swaying carts, or even once, walking seven miles with her aging valise in tow… After nine separate families, she would have settled for tolerance and a promise that she would always have a place to stay.

  So of course she hoped for marriage. Not the way she might have as a child, dreaming of white knights and houses to look over and china and linen to purchase. She hoped for it in the most basic possible terms.

  All she wanted was for someone to choose her.

  Hoping for so little, she had believed that surely she could not be disappointed.

  It just went to show. Fate had a sense of humor, and she was a capricious bitch.

  For here Camilla stood on her wedding day. Wedding night, really. Her gown was not white, as Victoria’s had been. In fact, she was still wearing the apron from the scullery. She had no waiting trousseau, no idea what sort of home—if any—awaited her. And she’d still managed to miss out on her dreams.

  Her groom’s face was hidden in the shadows; late as this wedding was, on this particular night, a few candles lit in the nave did more to cast shadows than shed illumination. He adjusted his cuffs, gleaming white against the brown of his skin, and folded his arms in disapproval. She couldn’t see his eyes in the darkness, but his eyebrows made grim lines of unhappy resignation.

  It might even have been romantic—for versions of romantic that conflated foolhardy with fun—to marry a man she had known for only three days. And what she knew of the groom was not terrible. He’d been kind to her. He had made her laugh. He had even—once—touched her hand and made her heart flutter.

  It might have been romantic, but for one tiny little thing.

  “Adrian Hunter,” Bishop Cantrell was saying. “Do you take Camilla Worth to be your wife? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and protect her, and forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?”

  She would have overlooked the gown, the trousseau, anything. Anything but…

  “No,” said her groom. “I do not consent to this.”

  That one tiny little thing. Like everyone else in the world, her intended didn’t want her.

  Behind him, Rector Daniels lifted the pistol. His hands gleamed white on the barrel in the candlelight, like maggots writhing on tarnished steel.

  “It doesn’t matter what you say,” the man said. “You will agree and you will sign the book, damn your eyes.”

  “I do this under duress.” His words came out clipped and harsh. “I do not consent.”

  Camilla shouldn’t even call him her intended. Intent on his part was woefully lacking.

  “I’m sorry,” Camilla whispered.

  He didn’t hear her. Maybe he didn’t care.

  She wouldn’t have minded if he didn’t love her. She didn’t want white lace and wedding cake. But this wasn’t a marriage, not really. She was being wrapped up like an unwanted package again and sent on to the next unsuspecting soul.

  After being passed on—and on—and on—and on—after all these years, she had no illusions about the outcome in this case.

  The candlelight made Mr. Hunter’s features seem even darker than they had in the sun. In the sun, after all, he’d smiled at her.

  He didn’t smile now.

  There it was. Camilla was getting married, and her husband didn’t want her.

  Her lungs felt too small. Her hands were shaking. Her corset wasn’t even laced tightly, but still she couldn’t seem to breathe. Little green spots appeared before her eyes. Dancing, whirling.

  Don’t faint, Camilla, she admonished herself. Don’t faint. If you faint, he might leave you behind, and then where will you be?

  She didn’t faint. She breathed. She said yes, and the spots went away. She managed not to swoon on her way to sign the register. She did everything except look at the unwilling groom whose life had so forcibly been tied to her own.

  She followed him out into the cold winter evening. There would be no celebration, no dinner. Behind her back, she heard the clink of coins as the bishop turned to Mr. Hunter.

  “There’s an inn a mile away,” the man said. “They might allow you to take rooms for the night. Don’t expect that I’ll give you a character reference.”

  Mr. Hunter made no response. He just started walking down the road.

  That was how Camilla left the tenth family that had taken her in: on foot, at eleven at night, with a chill in the air and the moon high overhead. She had to half-skip to keep up with her new…husband? Should she call him a husband?

  His long legs ate away at the ground. He didn’t look at her.

  But halfway to the inn, he stopped. At first, she thought he might finally address her. Instead, he let his own satchel fall to the ground. He looked up at the moon.

  His hands made fists at his side. “Fuck.” He spoke softly enough that she likely wasn’t supposed to hear that epithet.

  “Mr. Hunter?”

  He turned to her. She still couldn’t see his eyes, but she could feel them on her. He’d lost his position and gained a wife, all in the space of a few hours. She didn’t imagine that he was happy with her.

  He exhaled. “I suppose this…is what it is. We’ll figure this mess out in the morning.”

  The morning. After the wedding came the wedding night. Camilla wasn’t naïve. She just wasn’t ready.

  How had her life come to this?

  Ah, yes. It had started three days ago, when Bishop Cantrell had arrived on her doorstep with Mr. Hunter in tow…

  After the Wedding will be out in late 2016.

  Other Books by Courtney

  The Worth Saga

  Once Upon a Marquess

  Her Every Wish

  After the Wedding

  The Devil Comes Courting

  The Return of the Scoundrel

  The Kissing Hour

  A Tale of Two Viscounts

  The Once and Future Earl

  The Cyclone Series

  Trade Me

  Hold Me

  Find
Me

  What Lies Between Me and You

  Keep Me

  Show Me

  The Brothers Sinister Series

  The Governess Affair

  The Duchess War

  A Kiss for Midwinter

  The Heiress Effect

  The Countess Conspiracy

  The Suffragette Scandal

  Talk Sweetly to Me

  The Turner Series

  Unveiled

  Unlocked

  Unclaimed

  Unraveled

  Not in any series

  A Right Honorable Gentleman

  What Happened at Midnight

  The Lady Always Wins

  The Carhart Series

  This Wicked Gift

  Proof by Seduction

  Trial by Desire

  Author’s Note

  I had the initial idea for this book a long time ago—in 2011, when I was doing research for The Duchess War. I ran into a bit of something in the Leicester archives advertising a charity loan for young residents of the parish looking to start a new trade or business. I remember reading the language very carefully and thinking to myself, huh. They don’t say you have to be a man to apply.

  I thought I knew precisely what to do with that. Except the problem was finding an appropriate hero. I tried someone who was in the competition against Daisy, but unfortunately, didn’t like that dynamic. I tried one of the judges. I tried someone who was tasked with persuading her to withdraw. None of those things worked for me for a number of reasons.