by Rose Pearson
The Smithfield Market Romances
A Sweet Regency Romance Boxset
Rose Pearson
Contents
A Rogue’s Flower
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Saved by the Scoundrel
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Mending the Duke
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
The Baron’s Malady
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
My Dear Reader
A Sneak Peek of Love and Christmas Wishes
Sarah’s Magical Christmas
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
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© Copyright 2018 by Rose Pearson - All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document by either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
Respective author owns all copyrights not held by the publisher.
A Rogue’s Flower
A Smithfield Market Regency Romance
(Book 1)
Prologue
“Elsbeth?”
Miss Elsbeth Blakely, daughter to some unknown persons and nothing more than an orphan, turned her head to see Miss Skelton enter the room, her thin figure and skeletal appearance matching her name perfectly.
“Yes, Miss Skelton?” Elsbeth asked, getting to her feet as she knew she was expected to, given that this was the lady in charge of the House for Girls. “What can I do for you?”
Miss Skelton, her black hair tied back into a tight bun, gave a small disparaging sniff. “What are you doing in the schoolroom, Elsbeth? The dinner gong has sounded, has it not?”
Elsbeth did not back down, nor feel ashamed of her tardiness. “I have every intention of coming to the dining hall the moment I have finished my letter,” she replied, calmly. “After all, was it not you yourself who told me that I was to leave this place just as soon as I could?” She tilted her head just a little, mousey brown curls tipping across her forehead as she did so. Her hair had always been the bane of her life, for she had such tight curls that it was almost impossible to keep them neat and tidy as she was expected to do.
Miss Skelton sniffed again. “That is no excuse, Elsbeth. I expect better from you.”
Elsbeth sighed inwardly, aware that Miss Skelton was almost always disappointed with her. Ever since she could remember, Miss Skelton had been a tall, imposing figure that gave her nothing but disparaging and cutting remarks, designed to bring down her confidence. Elsbeth had, in fact, learned how to stand against Miss Skelton’s venomous words, shutting down her emotions and closeting away her heart whenever the lady spoke.
“May I ask what letter it is you are writing?” Miss Skelton asked, her hands now clasped in front of her. Her long, grey dress with its high collar that hid most of her neck hung on her like a shroud, giving her an almost death-like appearance that Elsbeth hated so much.
“I have been responding to advertisements regarding governesses,” Elsbeth replied, with a slight lift of her chin. “Mrs. Banks has encouraged me in this and I intend to find a position very soon. I do hope that you will give me the references I require.” She lifted one eyebrow, a slight challenge in her voice as she waited for Miss Skelton to reply. Mrs. Banks, the lady who taught the girls everything from elocution to grammar, had encouraged Elsbeth in her hopes of making a life for herself outside of the Smithfield House for Girls. Mrs. Banks told her that she had all the knowledge and ability required to become a governess. In a recent spat with Miss Skelton, Elsbeth had been urged to leave the House for Girls as soon as she was able. Miss Skelton pointed out how frustrated she was that she could not throw Elsbeth out on her ear; the two things had come together to encourage Elsbeth to indeed depart. What she required of Miss Skelton was a reference to whichever one of her potential employers wrote back to her with further enquiry.
“I suppose I must,” Miss Skelton replied, her voice thin. “If it means that I can get you out of this place, then I will do all I can to help you.”
Elsbeth found herself smiling, feeling as though she had won victory. “Thank you, Miss Skelton. It is much appreciated, I am sure.” Turning her back on the lady, she sat down again and continued to compose her letter, hearing Miss Skelton’s mutter of frustration before she left the room.
Breathing a small sigh of relief, Elsbeth let her pen drift over the page, writing the same words she had written on three other occasions. Her desire to become a governess was growing with every day that she had to spend here. Even though it was the only home she had ever known, it was slowly beginning to suffocate her.
The Smithfield House for Girls was right next to the bustling Smithfield Market, but was in direct contrast to the happiness and warmth that came from there. Elsbeth often spent time looking out of her window to the market place, finding her heart filled with both happiness and pain, wishing that she could have the same joy that was in the faces of so many of those who came to the market. They laughed and smiled more than anyone ever did in the House for Girls, mostly due to the fact that Miss Skelton was neither happy nor joyful.
Lost in thought for a moment, Elsbeth looked up from her page and let her gaze drift towards the window. Whilst her life had not been altogether bad thus far, the question about where she had come from and why she was here had always dogged her mind. Miss Skelton had never said a word, other than to state that her living allowances had been paid for – and continued to be paid for – year after year. That was why she could never throw Elsbeth out onto the street, since money was sent specifically for Elsbeth’s upkeep. Elsbeth could still remembe
r the day she had asked Miss Skelton who sent the money, only for the door to be shut in her face. That had been the day she had begun to dislike Miss Skelton intensely. Elsbeth was frustrated that the woman would not give her any information despite seeing the it upset her to have no knowledge of her birth.
Elsbeth had quietly resigned herself to the fact that she would never know, not unless her father or mother came looking for her. It was an agony that would never fully disappear from her heart, the pain of not understanding why she had been sent here as a baby. Why had her parents had turned her over to Miss Skelton instead of keeping her to raise themselves? She did not understand why Miss Skelton would not speak to her about the matter, did not understand why she would not even explain why she would not do so. That, however, was a burden Elsbeth knew she simply had to bear. Miss Skelton was not about to change her mind, in the same way that she was not about to become a warm and kind-hearted lady who cared about the charges in the House she ran.
That being said, Elsbeth knew that most of the girls here were from noblemen or gentlemen who had chosen to have a tryst outside of wedlock or outside their marriages. It was more than obvious that this was the case, for the girls were trained in all manner of gentle arts, instead of simply being fed and given a place to sleep as they would have done in the poorhouse. There were standards here, standards that both she and the others were expected to meet. Most of them might never know their fathers nor their mothers, but at least their chance at a decent life was much greater than if they’d been left at the poorhouse. There were varying choices for them in their futures – although most would become governesses or teachers in places such as these. Some would become seamstresses, others perhaps marry. Elsbeth winced as she recalled that the annual ball was due to take place in two days’ time – a chance for the girls who were out to take part in a small gathering where gentlemen in the lower classes could attend in case they were in need of a wife…. or, perhaps, a mistress. She was revolted at the thought, her eyes closing tightly as she fought against the urge to run away from it all. Being now of age, she had no other choice but to attend, even though she was already responding to advertisements for governesses. Whilst Miss Skelton wanted to be rid of her, Elsbeth knew that it would be in any way she could, which included the ball and a potential husband.
Not that the gentlemen who attended were in any way nobility. They were mostly baronets, knights, and the like, who were looking for a wife who could fulfill all their requirements whilst still being of decent standing. In addition, Elsbeth knew that many of the girls had a large dowry set aside for them, although none knew from where it had come. That was what brought such gentlemen to the ball, for even though there might be some murmuring over marriages to girls from the Smithfield House for Girls, a gentleman could overlook it should there be a large enough dowry.
Elsbeth had not thought to ask about herself, and was, therefore, quite unaware of any dowry she might have. Perhaps there would be a way for her to hide from most of the gentlemen on the evening of the ball, regardless of whether she had a dowry or not. She did not wish to marry. She wanted to experience life outside of this place, a life where she could earn her own living and make her own way if she chose. Marriage was just another four walls around her, keeping her in line.
Sighing heavily, Elsbeth finished writing her letter, sanded it carefully and then folded it up, ready to be posted.
“Please,” she whispered, holding the letter carefully in her hand. “Please, let this be the way out of here. Let me find a new life, far away from Smithfield, London and Miss Skelton. Please.” Closing her eyes tightly, she sent her prayer heavenwards before rising from her chair and making her way to the dining room. All she could do now was wait.
1
The following afternoon found Elsbeth finishing her embroidery piece, feeling rather pleased with herself. Embroidery had not come naturally to her and yet here she was, finishing off her final piece.
“Wonderful, Elsbeth!” Mrs. Banks exclaimed, coming to sit by her. “You should be very pleased with your work.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Banks,” Elsbeth replied, with a chuckle. “Although I will say that I do not understand how anyone can find any kind of enjoyment from such a thing.”
Mrs. Banks smiled back, her plump face warm and friendly. “Then I should tell you that I do not particularly enjoy it myself, but it is a useful skill to have when one is seeking a husband.”
Elsbeth suppressed a shudder. “Thank goodness I am not doing so.”
Mrs. Banks nodded slowly. “The ball is tomorrow night. Did Miss Skelton speak to you about it?”
A niggle of worry tugged at Elsbeth’s mind. “No, she did not. Why?”
For a moment, Mrs. Banks looked away, her lips thinning and Elsbeth felt herself grow tense.
“You have a large dowry, Elsbeth. I am surprised Miss Skelton has not spoken to you about this before now.”
Elsbeth shook her head, firmly. “I do not care. I will not marry.”
“I know, I know,” Mrs. Banks said softly, putting one gentle hand on Elsbeth’s. “But Miss Skelton will be sharing that news with whichever gentlemen show an interest in you at the ball. You must be prepared for that.”
Elsbeth felt ice grip her heart, making her skin prickle. “I do not want to marry,” she whispered, her embroidery now sitting uselessly on her lap, completely forgotten. “I know Miss Skelton wishes to get rid of me, but I cannot bring myself to preen in front of eligible gentlemen in the hope of matrimony! I want a life for myself.”
Mrs. Banks gave her a small reassuring smile, one hand reaching out to rest on her shoulder. “And I am sure you will receive a return to your letters very soon,” she replied, calmly, “but you must be aware of what Miss Skelton intends to do. Your dowry is very large, Elsbeth. You have clearly come from a wealthy family.”
Putting her head in her hands, Elsbeth battled frustration. So much money, just out of reach. With it, she could do whatever she pleased, set up a life for herself wherever she wanted.
“Although….”
Her head jerked up as she saw Mrs. Banks look from one place to the next, her eyes a little concerned.
“Although?” Elsbeth repeated, encouraging the lady. “Although what, Mrs. Banks?”
Mrs. Banks paused for a moment before shaking her head. “Never mind. It is not something I should say.”
Knowing that Mrs. Banks was the closest thing she had to a friend, Elsbeth reached across and took her hand. “Please, Mrs. Banks, tell me whatever it was you were going to say. I feel so lost already. Anything you can tell me will help.” Her blue eyes searched Mrs. Banks’ face, desperate to know what the lady was holding back.
“I should not be telling you this, Elsbeth,” Mrs. Banks replied quietly, “but I have seen how miserable you are here and how Miss Skelton treats you. I am sorry for that. You are a free spirit and she, being as tight-laced as she is, does not understand that. She has never wanted to nurture you, she has simply wanted to contain you, and I cannot hold with that.”
A lump in her throat, Elsbeth squeezed Mrs. Banks’ hand. “I know,” she replied, quietly. “I have valued your teaching and your friendship over the years.”
Mrs. Banks drew in a long breath, her shoulders settling as she came to a decision. “As have I,” she said, with a great deal more firmness. “Then I shall tell you the truth about your dowry. If you do not marry before you are twenty-one years of age, then the dowry, in all its entirety, goes to you.”
Elsbeth gaped at her, her world slowly beginning to spin around her.
“Just think of it, Elsbeth,” Mrs. Banks continued softly, her voice warm. “You need only be a governess for three or four years before you will be truly free. If you are careful, I believe you will have enough to live on for the rest of your days.”
Elsbeth could not breathe, her chest constricting. She could hardly believe it, could hardly take it all in, and yet she knew that what Mrs. Banks was saying was the truth. Sh
e would not lie to her.
“Why has Miss Skelton never spoken to me about this?” she asked hoarsely, as Mrs. Banks squeezed her hand. “I could have stayed here until….”
“You have answered your own question,” Mrs. Banks replied, sadly. “Miss Skelton wants you gone from her establishment and she thought that, in telling you the truth, you would be filled with the urge to remain. There will be funds aplenty until you reach the age of twenty-one, for I am certain that Miss Skelton told me that whoever it is that pays for your board here would do so until either you are wed, or you are twenty-one.”
Elsbeth shook her head, fervently. “That cannot be the case. Miss Skelton told me that I must find a place soon as the money that pays for me will soon cease.”
