A Bride for Lord Albany (Regency Novella Book 3)

by Angelina Jameson

  Copyright 2017 Angelina Jameson

  Editor: Geek Girl Author Services, geekgirlauthorservices.com

  Cover Design: Lily Smith, www.coversbylily.com

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this novella may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means-except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews-without written permission. The characters and events in this novella are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  License Notes

  This novella is licensed for your personal enjoyment. This novella may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this novella with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this novella and did not purchase it, or if it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Dedications

  For my husband. Backrubs are a small price to pay for such an awesome tech guru.

  ***

  To Yvonne Radacy for always listening to my crazy ideas and then talking me out of them.

  ***

  To Natalie Anderson, Beta reader extraordinaire. Your enthusiasm for this series gave me the push to finish it.

  ***

  And to my boys, Thomas and Tyler, with love

  Prologue

  September 1797, Devon

  “Rotten luck,” Mr. Winge said with a lopsided grin as he knocked her ball from the field of play. The grin took the sting from his having ruined her chances to win.

  The other gentlemen who indulged in lawn bowling had been most circumspect in rolling their ball past hers and not hitting it. Winge had no such reservations.

  She in turn had tried her best to thwart his efforts. “Take that,” she said under her breath as she hit his ball with hers, not caring that neither of them would fare well in the outcome.

  The game had felt like flirting. No man had ever flirted with her before. They did flirt with Amelia. Her older sister Amelia, proclaimed a diamond during her first season, had recently married a duke.

  Men also flirted with her best friend Louisa. Louisa had secured a husband during their first season. Emma had not. Louisa and her intended were part of the group playing lawn bowling.

  “Never compare yourself to anyone.” She hadn’t realized the future viscount stood near her as she watched Louisa converse with her fiancé. “You are pretty in your own way.”

  If there had been envy reflected on her face it wasn’t due to Louisa’s beauty. She envied the girl for finding a man who loved her. Emma’s parents were in an arranged marriage. A loveless union. She fully expected the same for herself.

  The gentleman beside her would be Lord Albany one day. A future viscount for a son-in-law would be more than acceptable to her father, a mere baronet. Winge’s dark glossy hair and fine blue eyes were in stark contrast to Upton’s lank brown hair and uninspiring gray eyes. Winge was a handsome man. All she had to recommend her was a large dowry.

  She fluttered her lashes as she’d seen her sister do. “I prefer actions over compliments, Mr. Winge. If your esteem for me is so high perhaps you would let me win the next game.”

  “You are too much the competitor to accept a thrown game, Miss Emma. I show my esteem by treating you as a fierce opponent.” His warm glance touched her reddening cheeks before he bent to retrieve his ball. “Lovely, but fierce.”

  The house party was nearly over. The last week she had enjoyed attention from both Lord Upton and Mr. Winge. Upton, a few years older than Winge’s nineteen years, was a marquess. Her father would be astonished if she could secure a titled gentleman. Of the two men, she preferred Mr. Winge by far.

  Upton’s interest had come across as dutiful. Her father’s wealth too obviously what attracted the man to her. If Winge was merely interested in her inheritance he hid it far better than the marquess.

  Lord Upton looked as if he would develop a paunch as he aged. Mr. Winge had shown more interest in the physical games of the party.

  “There you are, Emma,” Louisa said as she approached them. “Excuse us, Mr. Winge. I must commandeer Miss Emma.”

  “I hope you do not take her very far,” the man replied with a wink. “I have grown quite attached to your pretty friend.”

  How she refrained from giggling as Louisa drew her away she never knew. Once the women reached the privacy of Emma’s bedchamber, they both gave way to laughter.

  “He is smitten.”

  She shook her head at her friend. “He is merely teasing.”

  “He likes you. I can tell. We must make sure you look your best for the ball.”

  Emma picked up the dress airing on her bed.

  Louisa shook her head. “The yellow shade your mother insists on dressing you in washes out your complexion. The light blue is more flattering on you.”

  “Do you really think Mr. Winge is interested in me?”

  “Although the party is for my betrothal I knew when papa invited so many young men we would find a husband for you.” Louisa knew her friend wasn’t looking forward to another season next spring. “Mr. Winge will fall in love with you once he dances with you. You are the best dancer I have ever seen.”

  To compensate for her lack of beauty, Emma concentrated on the womanly graces. She was not only skilled at dancing, but drawing and playing the pianoforte. Her singing voice was better than most.

  The ball on the last evening was a finale to the house party. Once Louisa was satisfied with Emma’s gown choice, the woman returned to her own bedchamber to rest before the evening’s festivities.

  Emma should be resting. She was restless; excited about the evening ahead. Lord Upton had asked if he could speak with her after the ball. She didn’t want him to propose. She wanted Mr. Winge.

  The day remained fair. She stepped out of the family entrance to the house into a rose garden. She had visited Louisa’s childhood home often and knew the grounds well. A quick walk around several plots of flowers and perhaps she would be able to settle.

  As she walked down a gravel path, assorted rose bushes beside her, she heard voices on the other side of the tall hedgerow that surrounded the garden.

  “No one can blame you for being nice to the girl, Winge. The chit will have a large marriage settlement. Pity her sister is already married. She is the beauty of the family.”

  She heard a cough before Winge replied, “Miss Emma is a lovely young woman.”

  “She is shapely enough, I admit. Snuff the candles and you won’t have to look at her while you’re bedding her.”

  There was laughter. The same man spoke again. “Your old nemesis Upton is interested. Let him have her. We can find you better.”

  “I don’t think I could do better.”

  “You will have a title. Money will flock to you.”

  She shifted her feet and a twig snapped beneath one of her satin shoes. The voices stilled. She turned on her heel, ran back to the house and didn’t stop running until she’d reached her bedchamber.

  Mr. Winge’s friend thought he was too good for her. Perhaps he would offer for her as she would have a large marriage settlement. If she were to marry she would much prefer Winge to Upton.

  “You look very lovely,” her maid said after finishing her mistress’s hair. The girl rarely complemented her.

  She felt lovely. Excitement brightened her features. Her brown eyes sparkled, her cheeks glowed. Buoyed by the reflection in the mirror, she was ready for the ball
.

  When she saw Louisa in the ballroom, her excitement waned. The girl looked pale.

  “Whatever is the matter?”

  “It’s Mr. Winge. He’s gone. Papa said it was a family emergency.”

  “You didn’t speak with him?” A silly question. She was in shock.

  “No. He left for London a short while ago.”

  She wouldn’t ask if he’d left her a message. Why would he or should he. Louisa would have told her if he had.

  In a trance for the rest of the evening, she’d danced with Lord Upton. He had already spoken to her father. She asked for a fortnight to think about his proposal.

  Mr. Winge had left Devon without a note or a single word for her. She did not see or hear from the gentleman and when the fortnight was over she sent a message to Lord Upton. She had dared to dream for a short while. Now the dream was over.

  Chapter One

  April 1822, London

  It was a rare sunny day in a week filled with rain. Emma and her daughter-in-law Lily strolled down Bond Street, en route to a hat shop. As they approached Phillips Jewelers a woman stumbled into Emma.

  “I must find my brother!”

  Emma heard the agitation in the woman’s voice, and she reached out to steady the woman. When she encountered the fabric of the woman’s outdated dark green traveling dress, the woman jerked from her hold.

  “I must find John. He is in the shop. I must find John.”

  “He is in the jeweler’s shop?” she asked the woman, her tone as soothing as she could make it.

  “Yes. Yes. I must find him.” Despite the woman’s outdated clothing, her voice was refined. She was obviously a member of the gentry.

  She held her arm out. “If you would like to come with me, I am going into the shop. I will help you find your brother.”

  The woman reached out a gloved hand and clutched Emma’s forearm. Her brief glimpse of the woman revealed pleasant enough features. She had a moment of surprise when she noticed a pair of striking blue eyes. They reminded her of someone.

  Lily opened the door to the shop and stood aside as Emma stepped inside with the unknown woman clinging to her arm.

  A bell tinkled over the door and a male voice called out, “I will be with you in a moment.”

  Emma had visited the proprietor before and recognized Mr. Phillips when he entered the main shop from a backroom. She also knew the man beside him: Lord Albany. Although she’d seen the man a few months ago at Lily’s Christmas party, she still felt the familiar tug in her chest at her first sight of the man.

  “John!” The unknown woman released Emma’s arm with a muffled sob.

  Lord Albany moved around the end of the jeweler’s counter. He nodded to Emma and Lily before taking the woman’s hands in his own. “It’s all right, my dear. I’m here.”

  She glanced at Lily. The woman looked as surprised as she felt. Lord Albany had a sister?

  The viscount placed one of the woman’s hands in the crook of his arm, turned and smiled briefly at Emma and Lily. “Thank you for bringing my sister to me. This is her first trip to London in many years.”

  The soft tones the viscount used when speaking to his sister washed over her. His blue coat and buff trousers were the very height of fashion. His dark hair was ruffled. She wanted to reach out and pat the silky strands into place. She shook herself.

  “We were happy to help,” she replied. “Can I be of any further assistance?” Goodness, she was relieved her voice didn’t betray her pleasure in seeing the man again.

  “I have the matter in hand, thank you.” He made a shallow bow. For just a moment he paused, his eyes scanning her features. His warm smile resulted in a rush of blood to her cheeks. The moment passed and all he said was, “Good day ladies, Mr. Phillips.”

  Lord Albany escorted his sister from the shop. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed to see the man go. Perhaps both.

  “May I be of help?” Mr. Phillips asked. His face wore no signs that anything out of the ordinary had occurred in his shop.

  Lily glanced at Emma before she replied, “Since we’re here, I would like to find a simple chain for my husband’s pocket watch.”

  Mr. Phillips assisted Lily to select a suitable chain while Emma strolled to the window of the shop and looked out. Lord Albany and his sister were nowhere to be seen.

  In the carriage on the way back to the Upton townhouse, Emma asked Lily, “What were you whispering about to Mr. Phillips before we left the shop?”

  “I asked him if perhaps he had shown Lord Albany something I could purchase as a gift for the viscount. The man was instrumental in helping me get Charles to the altar.”

  Lily did not elaborate.

  “Well?” she asked her daughter-in-law. “Did Mr. Phillips tell you what they looked at?”

  “They hadn’t looked at watches at all. Mr. Phillips hired a young man as an apprentice on Lord Albany’s recommendation and wanted to show him how well the boy was working out.”

  “Lord Albany is running a registry office?”

  Lily shook her head. “The boy is deaf and comes from the village near Lord Albany’s estate. He had nowhere to go when his father died. Lord Albany knew he could repair watches. I told you the viscount was a kind man.”

  “Perhaps. One kindness does not a man make.” She knew she was being unfair. She couldn’t call the man unkind simply because he hadn’t offered for her all those years ago.

  Lily shook her head. “Lord Albany also helped facilitate Geoffrey and Grace’s union. I think the viscount is a romantic.”

  “He is so romantic that the only woman he ever proposed to begged off as she believed he only wanted her for her fortune.” Once the words were out she regretted them. She sounded like a bitter woman. Seeing Lord Albany again had rattled her.

  “I don’t believe he would behave in such a dishonorable manner. Perhaps he merely allowed the woman to break the engagement with any excuse she wanted.”

  She made no reply.

  “Thera are so many gossips in society. I’m sure it would be simple to find out more about the man.”

  Lily’s words caused her a moment of disquiet before she realized there was nothing anyone in London could know about the long-ago house party in Devon. Emma’s life had been largely spent in the country. Lord Upton had preferred town and she’d preferred to avoid her husband. Her only news of society came from sporadic letters from her sister the duchess or if she chose to peruse a copy of one of the newspapers that invariably made it to Kilmeade Hall.

  Lily had grown up on the neighboring estate and her mother Cynthia had become Emma’s friend and confidante. Cynthia had coaxed her to town for Lily’s season nearly four years ago. Emma had been in half-mourning for her husband and only saw Lord Albany in passing. She’d seen him more in the last six months than the last twenty years.

  “What do you think, mother?”

  She started at the sound of Lily’s voice. “Pardon, my dear? I was wool-gathering.”

  Lily’s gaze upon her looked assessing. The idea that her daughter-in-law was up to something passed through her mind.

  “I said we can ask Lady Cairs about Lord Albany when we attend her ball. You must wear the ballgown Mrs. Bell designed for you. The dark red one. I think she called the color Pompeian.”

  “As you wish, my dear.” She looked out the carriage window. It would not do to act too interested in the topic of Lord Albany. “I do hope it doesn’t rain.”

  * * * * *

  Albany decided there was nothing for it. His sister Lisbeth would only calm down after he told her they would leave London and drive home to the estate in Essex. The three-hour carriage ride was a small price to pay to make his sister happy.

  “I am sorry, John,” Lisbeth said several times during the journey.

  “It is quite all right,” he replied. “I’m the one who should apologize. You weren’t ready to go to town. I ought to have known that.”

  “I shouldn’t ha
ve told you I wanted to go to London. I merely wanted to please you.”

  He looked across the carriage at the sister who was almost ten years older than himself. Despite being in her early 50’s, Lisbeth had a childlike demeanor. He couldn’t understand it. Her body had grown up while her mind stayed the age of an adolescent. The doctor told him it was a medical condition, but he wondered if it was because she’d been left alone, out of society, for far too long.

  “I think you were very brave to go to London with me.” He smiled. “It seems you are no worse the wear for our little adventure. Surely the visit to town has provided ideas for your next painting.”

  Lisbeth nodded eagerly. “Oh yes. I did enjoy seeing The Tower. I will have to mix several pigments together to get the color of the stone just right.”

  His thoughts turned to Lady Upton. Emma. He’d never used her Christian name aloud. He hadn’t seen the dowager marchioness since Christmastide. She’d worn a crimson pelisse. He thought the color an excellent choice for her peaches and cream complexion. He’d always thought Emma was a handsome woman. To his eyes she’d grown lovelier with age.

  For a moment he’d thought she looked pleased to see him before her features settled into a blank mask. There were few things he regretted in life. One was leaving the house party without telling her he would contact her when he could. It may not matter to her now. It mattered to him. He would seek her out. He needed to know if the reason he’d never married had been because of his sister Lisbeth or if he’d held on to something between them he’d only imagined.

  Emma rarely went to town. He would return to London on the morrow. Lisbeth would be settled. He had to return for an important vote in Parliament. He must ensure he crossed the path of Lady Upton again.

  Chapter Two

  Albany perused the piece of vellum in his hand. “Will wonders never cease? I have received an invitation to a wedding.”

  His manservant made a noncommittal sound. He’d finished folding his master’s cravat and quietly awaited a verdict on the result. Lincoln had a lisp. His speech didn’t bother his employer; the valet simply preferred to speak as little as possible.