by J. L. Carter
THE SKY REGENCY
J. L. CARTER
Copyright © 2017 Carty Publishing
Photo and Cover Design by: Jean Hamant
All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is dedicated to my beloved beta readers,
Thank you so much for believing in me!
And to my professor of British Studies back in university,
Sorry for this mess.
NOTE TO READERS
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidences are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is (I hope) entirely coincidental.
The book contains violence, sensual sex scenes, alternate History, British aristocrats and alpha male alien shifters. It’s definitely not for the faint-hearted.
You have been warned!
CONTENTS
BLURB
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
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
BLURB
All she wanted was a change.
All he wanted was a mate.
It’s 1810, and Europe is at war as Napoleon stages his great march across the continent and the British Empire battles the threat. King George III’s illness leaves him raving about sky invasions—rants that his courtiers dismiss as the thoughts of a madman.
Margaret Swinton has her own problems; unwillingly promised to Julian Barwick, Duke of Bridgewater and a royal insider, she struggles to find feelings for him, something that her family cannot understand.
However, History will soon be transformed when strange lights start to appear over England: a new invader with a power that easily overwhelms the primitive British forces. As George III repeals the Regency Act, Margaret meets Aidar, the gorgeous and dreaded Prince of the Sky Men.
Margaret quickly finds herself trapped in a deadly, deceit-filled love triangle in a world that has changed forever. The stakes are high, and one wrong move could easily spell disaster…
1
It’s the middle of 1810, and the entire world has just been shaken. Napoleon has recently created a strategic alliance by marrying Austrian archduchess Marie Louise. In all parts of Europe, he is now a major threat to the United Kingdom, for the French Empire is reaching its greatest moment.
Unlike its many coalition partners, the British have remained at war throughout the period of the Napoleonic Wars. Protected by naval supremacy, the country has maintained low-intensity land warfare globally for over a decade.
On a lesser scale, in England, King George III is getting weaker and weaker. He speaks, quite frequently, of an incoming invasion. “Not from the sea,” he rasps, eyes darting this way and that. “It will come from the sky. They will arrive in flocks and droves, like birds of the maddest sort. They will destroy everything, and what they won’t destroy—what they won’t destroy will wish for death, for that peace would be a kinder fate.”
Word travels quickly throughout the kingdom. While the greater part simply knows that the King is growing frail and that the Prince Regent will soon take his place, they are unaware of King George III’s fever dreams, or how paranoid he has become; locking himself away within the royal chambers, refusing to let anyone visit unless they are thoroughly vetted beforehand.
Rumors spread that he is unfit to rule. They spread of dark days in the future, and unease over the Prince Regent’s sudden rise to power. Many who frequent the royal grounds are aware of this—but Margaret Swinton is not. She is far more focused on her own life, and the disdainful fact that she has been promised to be Julian Barwick’s bride.
The man is a duke with close ties to the royal family. He reins over Bridgewater, a place that Margaret has never been and, if she had her ways, would never visit.
Alas, this marriage will be a boon to Margaret’s family. Her parents, Amelia and Richard, are desperately looking for a way to clamber out of their middle-class life and into a world of History book grandeur. While they are perfectly capable of using trade and work to maintain their current life, it seems to be an impossible feat to get near a higher ground.
At least, not on their own.
That would be where Margaret comes in. In the years to come, she’s certain that her sisters, Susan and Charlotte, will meet the same fate. Right now, though, she is the eldest daughter, and finding means to better the life of her family is her responsibility, and her responsibility alone.
Sighing, Margaret presses her forehead against the window. It’s hard, on nights like this, with the wedding looming in the future, to break herself out of her thoughts. Even with the rest of the family milling about in the background, the young woman, just recently turned twenty, feels very much alone.
“Bound to an unbreakable contract,” mutters Margaret.
Susan settles down next to her elder sister, tucking the skirt of her pale-yellow gown about her legs. The bench seat is pressed right against the window. Cool, night air seeps in through the glass. “What’s a contract?”
“Nothing,” says Margaret, quickly. She sits up, trying to school her features into something less distraught looking. “I was just talking to myself, Susan. Pay it no mind.”
“That’s an unbecoming habit for a lady. But no, I can tell. You’re upset over something!”
“I’m not!”
“Don’t lie to me,” insists Susan. She tucks a curl of brown hair behind her ear, then tugs it back loose. It’s a nervous habit that the youngest daughter of the Swinton family is desperately trying to break. “I can tell with you, Margie. You’re upset over something.”
Margaret glances around, trying to locate the rest of their family. It sounds like her mother is in the kitchen, gossiping with Charlotte, the middle daughter. Her father is nowhere to be seen.
It’s just the two of them.
Still, Margaret is hesitant to say anything. She knows how the rest of her family feels, after all. She knows their thoughts on the matter.
“Come on,” prompts Susan. Their shoulders bump together. “You can tell me. What are you thinking about?”
Margaret sighs. “I don’t love him,” she says, only because Susan will never leave without an answer. “The Duke, that is. I don’t love him, Susan. I don’t want to marry him.”
As expected, Susan looks nothing short of appalled. “But why ever not? Margaret, I would give anything to marry a duke! Think of the money that you would have access too! Think of the social standing! It would be an entirely new world to explore.”
“You realize that life isn’t the same as the stories in your books, don’t you? He is going to be no Prince Charming, that much is certain.”
“You don’t know that. M. Barwick sounds like a very kind man. I think that he honestly has taken fancy to you, Margaret.”
“But I have taken no fancy to him. I barely even know hi
m, Susan! What does he like? What are his interests?”
Susan clearly still doesn’t understand her elder sister’s worry, but she pats Margaret on the knee all the same. “I’m sure that it will all work out in your favor, Margie. Mother and father wouldn’t have picked out just any old name. They’ve certainly looked into him. Besides, you used to love romance novels! Just consider this to be part of those stories—living happily ever after.”
“This is not a romance book,” huffs Margaret. She shifts, turning back to the window. It’s not quite a full moon. The stars seem extraordinarily bright. “It’s my life. I want to know what to expect out of this man. I want to pick out my own future!”
The bench seat creaks when Susan stands up. Ever seeking to become the proper lady, she smooths out the wrinkles from her dress. “I know that you do. But truly, Margie, this is the right choice. I know it.”
Margaret snorts. “You say that, but you aren’t the one about to be sent away.”
“I would take your place if I could,” swears Susan, and there’s no doubt in either girl’s mind that she means it. Both of Margaret’s younger sisters would leap at the chance to live somewhere aside from their current home, to have a life away from the strict rule of their father.
There’s a gap between Susan’s front teeth. When she smiles, her tongue presses against it just so. A smattering of freckles spreads out over her cheeks. Margaret thinks that Susan is beautiful. The suitors, not so very much. She stands up too, offering the younger girl her hand. “I know that you would, my little star. Come—there’s no sense in lamenting over it. Dinner will be ready soon, I’m certain. Why don’t we go upstairs and I’ll see about braiding your hair?”
Susan’s blue eyes lit up. “Would you?”
“Of course. Come now. We have to hurry. I can hear Charlotte heading this way. We don’t want to be caught up in one of her endless rants, do we?” Their heels clack against the hardwood floor as they head for the staircase.
Charlotte is always throwing a fuss over something or another; the boy that disagrees with her, the way the mud clung to her heels, the fact that her dress is not the newest anymore. She was nothing but complaints. A true royal brat, who was born in the wrong family. In fact, she should be the one marrying the Duke. She already has the manners.
True to her word, just as the duo of young women vanish up the stairs, Charlotte steps into the sitting room. She glances around but, upon finding it empty, gives a truly rotten scowl. Charlotte spins on her heels and flounces back into the kitchen.
The thing to remember is that, once a proposal is accepted and parental consent obtained, breaking off an engagement is considered to be a very grave thing. In fact, a gentleman was strictly forbidden from breaking an engagement once accepted and a lady can only change her mind after careful consideration.
Margaret has given it a lot of consideration. In fact, she spends most of her nights thinking on just that matter.
Tonight is no different. Except—it’s vastly different.
After all, tomorrow evening, her parents will be hosting a party to celebrate Margaret’s betrothal. An engagement party of sorts, which is neither common nor uncommon, but simply an acceptable thing to both do or ignore.
She wishes that it was going to be ignored.
Instead, the stars shine down at her, laughing.
Come morning, her sisters are laughing too, beyond excited over the possibility of meeting someone at the party.
Grumpy and irritated, Margaret turns to them while they’re crowded around the vanity, trying to do their hair. “Who do you think you’re going to meet? It’s a family event,” she says, voice low and words sharp. “You already know everyone who’s going to attend. Unless you want to plan a date with Percy, I would lower your expectations of meeting a man tonight.”
“Don’t be so rude,” huffs Susan. “We’re just trying to have some fun, Margaret.”
“Well, don’t. Tonight isn’t about having fun.” Margaret slips a bobby pin into her errant brown curls. Despite the fact that many men praise her beauty, she can’t see where it comes from.
In the mirror, a tall, slender woman is reflected. She has a rather plain face and a sharp attitude, with hair that is far too long in the summer for her liking. Even now, it seems to be an unmanageable thing.
Oh, if only she could wear it short!
But, no, that would never be allowed. Margaret narrows her eyes at the reflection, as if trying to will it into a different shape.
It doesn’t work.
It never works.
“Cheer up,” says Susan. “At least you get to see everyone tonight. One last gathering, right?”
“Right,” says Margaret. “One last gathering. And then I’m gone, and no one here even cares that it’s the exact opposite of what I want.” She slams her brush down on the counter. “I can’t stand it anymore! I’m going to my room until the guests get here.”
“Margie—”
The door slams shut. Susan and Charlotte trade confused looks. Finally, Charlotte says, “she needs to lighten up. Can you imagine—getting to go live with a duke and acting like that? It’s completely uncalled for.”
“It is,” agrees Susan, but her eyes stray towards the door again, and she finds herself hoping that Margaret will come back.
She doesn’t.
With nothing else to do, the two young sisters turn back to the mirror. Margaret might not be excited for the upcoming night, but they most certainly are. After all, there’s no telling if a friend will tag along to the event, or if the brother of a cousin-in-law might show up to meet their in-laws.
2
The party is meant to be a grand thing, and it doesn’t disappoint. All of Margaret’s relatives, no matter how distant, have shown up. Uncle Jeffrey has already stolen away with a silver flask, and Aunt Bonnie is clucking up a storm with Amelia. Richard is smoking just outside the front door.
And Margaret? She’s found herself swept into a conversation with her cousins. She comes from a very large family. Of all her relations, Lucy, Jane, and Emma Campbell are her favorites. The oldest, Lucy, is just a year younger than Margaret—nineteen. At the other end of the spectrum, Emma is just a mere sixteen.
They dream of marrying a wealthy man and not having to worry about life. None of them understand why Margaret is so sour about marrying the Duke.
“It just seems like a shame,” says Lucy. “I know that you don’t love him right now, but you might grow to find some place in your heart for the man.”
Jane says, “you should consider yourself lucky! It could be worse, Margaret. You could be stuck with someone that is truly cruel.”
“Speaking of cruel,” drawls Emma, glancing over their shoulders. As expected, there is Percy Harris, the somewhat distant cousin. He’s a young, lanky boy. Not quite seventeen but the oldest of the Harris children, Percy tends to consider women beneath him.
As always, Percy is full of himself and dismissive of his female cousins. He makes several lewd comments directed at Emma, whom he finds very beautiful. He wraps an arm around her waist and tells her, “that dress looks beautiful on you, Emma.”
“Oh. Well, thank you, I—”
“I must say, though. I would love to see what it looked like off of you.”
Percy smiled, but it was nothing short of tooth. This wasn’t just an uncomfortable experience for Emma because she didn’t like the boy, but it was completely unacceptable in the standings of a proper courting.
If any of the adults were paying attention, they would have had Percy’s hide!
But they aren’t. The adults are quite content in their own affair and Margaret finds herself the eldest in the group, the one that must step up and deal with the problem.
She says, “hand to yourself, Percy. You know that your mother would never approve!”
“My mother isn’t around,” says Percy, with a slight shrug. He leans closer to Emma, but just for a moment. Then he lets go of his cousin, and gives th
em all a winning smile. “But Emma is, and I happen to know that she’s a far better woman than my mother. In fact, she’s far better company than any other woman that I can think of.”
He continues, “would you like to take up company in one of the other rooms? I’m sure that we can find better ways to spend our time than simper around with the rest of the family.”
“Actually,” says Margaret, firmly. She drapes an arm around Emma’s shoulders. “We were just about to step outside for some fresh air. Why don’t you go talk to Damian?”
Percy pulls a face, but Margaret leads her sister’s away from him before he can get out another word. They pass by her father, who has been joined by Cousin Mort, and head for the nearby garden.
It’s Susan’s pride and joy. The air is filled with the scent of roses, and the bushes are in full bloom.
“What a rat,” she fumes. “I can’t believe the audacity of that boy!”
Emma shakes her head. “Like I said, you could have been stuck with someone far worse.”
Jane nods. “Mother is talking with Percy’s parents. He’s going to be looking for someone to wed soon.”
Margaret shakes her head. “Your mother is a smart woman. She would never sentence you to a life spent with that boy. There’s no need for it, Emma. Don’t worry about it so much.”
“It’s hard not to,” says Emma. She stops to pluck a pale pink rose from one of the bushes. Her sister, Lucy, pulls it from her hand and tucks it behind Emma’s hair.
Lucy says, “we’re all going to be fine. Even you, Margaret.”
Margaret isn’t convinced, but she also hates to see Emma upset. And so, she nods, and puts on a painted smile, and tugs on the chain around her neck. The pendant had been hidden behind the collar of her dress. It’s late in the evening. The fading sun catches on the facets of the crystal, turning it into a veritable rainbow of colors.
