An Unkissed Lady: A Historical Regency Romance (The Evesham Series)

by Audrey Ashwood

  “I would prefer you to lavish your affections on me instead of constantly kissing the dog.” Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. The wrinkles in the corners of his eyes deepened as he pulled Rose towards him on the sofa. “You should see his face as he lets your kisses wash over him. Unlike me, he does not appreciate your expressions of love.”

  Rose struggled not to laugh, trying hard to find a sceptical expression. “I do not believe you, my Lord. Where is the evidence?”

  Fifteen minutes later, Rose had to admit defeat, but only because time was pressing, not because she did not relish the marquess’s kisses. “You have to go now,” she said. “The seamstress will soon be here to make the final alterations to the dress. You know what they say.”

  “To kiss the bride as often as possible before marrying her?” He brushed her lips once more.

  “I have never heard of it.” Rose leaned towards him and returned the kiss, maybe a little more. It was as if she just could not get enough of him. This was hardly surprising – after all, did Rose not have to catch up for the last two years?

  “Is everything all right? You look thoughtful.”

  Rose said yes, shook her head, and then added, “Yes and no. I just remembered that for two years I believed that I loved Richard de Coucy. I cannot forgive myself for my foolishness, nor my blindness.” She sighed. “Everybody, really everybody, tried to make me understand that he did not love me, and the more I heard it, the less I wanted to believe they were right. My sisters and mother were incredibly patient with me. And so were you…”

  “I will admit, it was not easy for me,” Gabriel said, taking the liberty of pulling her close, and leaning her head against his shoulder. They held each other tight, and Rose thought she had been luckier than she deserved. Gabriel had become her friend before he became her husband – how many women could rightly claim that about their husbands? “But without these two years of becoming who we are, our love may never have progressed beyond the stage of dreaming. Do you understand what I mean?”

  “I think so,” Rose replied slowly. “You mean, without the obstacle that Richard posed for us, we would not have taken the trouble to get to know one another?”

  “Exactly,” he agreed and wanted to kiss her once more, when there was a quick and sharp knock on the door.

  Rose’s maid, who, like all well-trained servants usually never knocked, stepped into the drawing room and bobbed a curtsey. “The seamstress is here,” she said.

  Rose gave Gabriel her hand. “That is my cue,” she said, “and your signal for departure.”

  He kissed the inside of her wrist. “Tomorrow,” he said so softly that no one but Rose could hear him.

  “Tomorrow,” Rose confirmed. It took no more than this one word to express her happiness.

  Epilogue

  The wedding took place with the smallest of circles due to the Marquess of Cavanaugh’s hasty pursuit and the bride and groom’s travel plans. Rose had suggested to take Lady Henrietta with them to one of the Cavanaugh’s remote estates, instead of travelling to Venice, and to stay there until the child was born. It was an unusual arrangement that had raised eyebrows in high society – of that, Rose was sure. She was equally certain that, as the newly appointed Marchioness of Cavanaugh, she would raise the baby of her “youngest sister,” as she called Henrietta, as her own.

  When they stepped outside the church after the brief ceremony and Rose said her goodbyes to her family, she was so happy, and at the same time, sadder than ever before in her life. Annabelle, sensible as ever, was the first to lead the farewell. Rose, who did not think it possible for her sister’s tummy to grow even rounder, carefully leaned over the enormous bulge. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Henrietta kept looking at Annabelle, visibly nervous. “May I tell Henrietta that she is allowed to write to you when the baby arrives?” Of course, the Evesham sisters knew about the pregnancy now that Rose had become the wife of the marquess. Unfortunately, in the two hectic weeks since Rose’s second engagement, there had been no time to arrange for Henrietta and the constantly tired Annabelle to have a chat.

  “Of course she can write to me. I shall share every detail with her, if it helps her to be less anxious.” Annabelle kissed Rose once more on both cheeks and then hugged her tightly. “I hope I can persuade Marcus to visit you up there in Scotland when our little girl comes into the world and has settled in, but he hardly lets me out of his sight. I am just glad that I was allowed to come here at all.”

  “I did not mind her coming down to the church,” spoke the cool voice of Marcus St. John, Annabellee’s husband, “but I know how fussy your priests are.” St. John came from an old Catholic family, but neither him nor Annabelle seemed to be burdened by the different religions. He bent over to Rose and kissed her on both cheeks. “If the health of Bell and our son so allow, we will come and visit you. Take care, little one.”

  Upon walking away, Rose heard her big sister point out to her husband that she was surely going to have a girl and that he would have to wait a little while until his heir was born. Rose wiped away a tear and was glad that her sister Felicity was hugging her so tightly to allow her to say that she was shedding tears for that reason, not out of emotion. Her sister was also beginning to show that she was in good hopes, Rose thought. Felicity and Luke, the Duke of Somerset, promised Rose that they would travel to Scotland as soon as Luke’s business permitted – as well as Felicity’s condition. “I am glad that you gave that dandy his marching orders,” announced Rose’s sister, clearly audible to all bystanders.

  “Do you always have to blare everything out like that?” Rose moaned, while still smiling.

  Her sister shrugged while Luke rolled his eyes. “I have been trying to teach her ladylike manners for two years, but without success.” He winked at a blushing Rose and led his wife aside.

  Saying goodbye to her mother and her father took longer, especially since the duchess cried, which was unusual for her. “Felicity is right, even though it was not necessary to shout it out to the world.”

  “Felicity is, stupidl… unfortunately, almost always right,” Rose replied, smiling at her sister, who had turned to her upon hearing these words, pressing her hand melodramatically to her heart. “Mother, there is no need to cry,” Rose said to the duchess. “I am the happiest woman on earth, and I have found the best man in the world for me.”

  “Yes, I know, I know. Come here, my child, let me hug you again. Scotland is so terribly far away from London, and the food is inedible.” A shiver ran through her. “Only a barbarian can fill a sheep’s stomach and then cook and eat it.”

  “Get a grip,” her father said, admonishing his wife. “You see, you are terrifying Rose with your talk of Scottish barbarians. Things could have been far worse. After all, Rose was sensible enough not to marry a … let us say, a man we disapprove of.”

  “I promise I will write to you as often as possible,” she assured her mother. “You are always welcome, is that not right, Gabriel?” Gabriel’s presence would be enough to distract her father from the vexing subject of Marcus St. John and Catholicism, and her mother from Scottish food, she hoped. “Where is he? Gabriel?” She turned to search for him and saw him turn the corner.

  “Oberon,” Rose exclaimed in delight. “There you are.” She left her parents and ran to Gabriel, who was leading the dog on a leash. Rose leaned down and inspected the laurel wreath before taking it off and placing it over her arm. Oberon seemed relieved to see her with his loyal brown eyes and licked her once over her glove. “Does that mean he will accompany us on our journey?”

  Gabriel nodded. “I think he would resent me if I left without him.” He gave her the leash. “But I am sure he would not even notice my absence as long as you are with him, feeding him with rose petals.”

  He wrapped an arm around her waist. “We should climb in. The sooner we leave, the sooner we can sleep in a decent bed.” Rose felt herself flush at the mention of a bed. “Where are Dr Hollingsworth and Catherine?�
� she asked, searching for them.

  “I think they are making an appointment with the pastor.”

  “Does that mean …?”

  Gabriel nodded. “Yes, the two of them will marry, as well. The good doctor asked me for Catherine’s hand yesterday.” He smiled broadly and helped her inside the carriage, then climbed in behind her. “It was the most pleasurable of all duties that I have ever had to fulfil as head of the family.” He looked around the small space of the cab, Oberon lying on the seat opposite them. “Have you noticed something?”

  “No,” Rose replied. “What is it?”

  “We are alone.”

  “How about a kiss?” Rose returned his smile. “I want one last proof that I really and truly married the right man.” She closed her eyes and lifted her face towards him.

  She felt his mouth upon her smile. “You cannot think any different. You are now the Marchioness of Cavanaugh, before God and the world. You are mine, and I will gladly prove to you every day that I am the right one.”

  He kissed her.

  Oberon barked.

  THE END

  Dear Readers,

  If you liked “An Unkissed Lady”, you will LOVE “An Orphan for the Duke” from my Wharton Series.

  Meet a broken, handsome duke who agrees to raise the orphaned daughter of his dying best friend. She is a shock to the duke – in both age and appearance. He was expecting a child, and not a stunningly beautiful woman!

  There’s a sneak peek on the next pages.

  An Orphan for the Duke Sneak Peek

  A Sweet Historical Romance

  A broken duke.

  An unexpected arrival.

  Can her presence heal the man who swore never to love again?

  Seven years ago, the Duke of Devonshire’s heart was shattered. After his late-wife’s death, the duke immersed himself in work and duty so he could numb the pain. Despite his possession of immense wealth, a historic title, strikingly handsome looks, and not few possible prospects, he wants for nothing in this world – except to be left alone.

  That solitude ends suddenly with the arrival of a desperate letter from an old friend, containing his dying wish that the duke care for his daughter. The duke, unable to ignore his dying friend’s appeal, orders the house to be prepared for the child’s arrival – much-loved toys and dolls, a room with the best views in the front of the house, and a swing in the garden. Only a few days later, Isabella arrives at the luxurious Hardwick Manor.

  But when the orphaned girl steps out of her carriage, he is stunned to discover she is actually a stunningly beautiful woman!

  What fate awaits the woman who has lost everything? What of the duke who has sworn never to love again?

  Reading Sample:

  “The Lady Isabella Thornton and company have arrived, Your Grace.”

  “At such a late hour?” the duke wondered. “I shall greet them in the parlour.”

  The footman bowed his head and left.

  After several weeks of anticipating this event, Isabella had arrived at Hardwick Manor, at last. How unfortunate that his mother and sister were not in residence to greet the child, he thought. The two were not due to return from London until the following day, leaving him burdened with the responsibility of seeing to the child. Nevertheless, he would take it upon himself to greet the guests and determine if the girl was well. If she was fit, then his housekeeper, Mrs Claxton, could manage without him. His book and his brandy would not have to wait long, he presumed. He did not plan to tarry in the new guests’ company for too long.

  Dispatching the butler with a few orders, the duke told the man what must be done. “See to their bags and trunks. Send for Mrs Claxton. If she is not awake, see that she is awakened at once, I have need of her.”

  With his footman and butler sent about their tasks, the duke prepared himself to greet his guests. That the child was John’s daughter should have been a reason for him to pause, but he was incapable of feeling any emotion other than worry. Why had the child arrived in such an untimely manner? Why could she not have arrived when his mother was in residence to attend to her?

  He left the library and walked along the corridor leading to the hall.

  He entered the parlour.

  The silence that greeted him was not what he was expecting. He did not see anyone or hear any sound that may indicate he had a youthful visitor. He did observe that the drawing room door was ajar, however. Would his footman have left a small child and company in the drawing room, a room filled with priceless objects such as the figurines and gilded statues that his mother adored, he thought, worried about the child breaking something. As he approached the door, he hesitated. This was John’s daughter; he did not wish to appear an old, ill-tempered man to a young girl – that would never do. Even he could see that. Willing himself to appear less imposing, he was buoyed by the fact that Mrs Claxton would arrive soon to trundle the little girl off to the nursery. The housekeeper might give her a bowl of stew or some other suitable evening meal. He smiled and willed himself to appear as benevolent and kind as he could manage before, finally, entering the room.

  He was astonished by the sight before him.

  Inside the drawing room, a woman stood at the opposite end by the wall of windows.

  Moonlight flooded through the panes of glass, bathing her features in a soft glow. Her pale skin was illuminated by the soft light, and her brown hair glistened, as all around the moonlight danced and played, making her appear like an angel, despite her being dressed in the dark garb of mourning. She must not have heard him approach because she did not turn to face him. She remained with her face lifted towards the light.

  He stood, motionless, appreciating the statuesque figure of the beauty who slowly opened her eyes, as if she were enraptured by the view of the full moon on the lawn that lay just beyond the window. As he observed her, watching for any indication that she was a ghostly form or the result of his imagination, he dared not speak. He was awestruck by her, as he would be of a magnificent view of a painting.

  Matthew was accustomed to being in complete control of all that he felt and all that he surveyed. Yet, at this moment, as he stared at the beautiful woman, who stood unaware of his observation, he was lost for words. However, it was but only for a moment. He quickly quelled the emotion he felt welling within. He dismissed his own reaction to her as astonishment, at having a visitor so late in the evening and nothing more. He was a duke, for heaven’s sake, he was not a boy besot by beauty. He was not in the habit of feeling awed for any reason. He was not one to stand in stupefaction gazing at the beauty in front of him. It was time to address her.

  “My footman informed me that I have a visitor. Whom am I addressing?” he asked formally. “Have you arrived with the child?”

  She turned to face him – her deep-blue eyes were as pleasant as the graceful features of her oval face. Who was this young woman – the child’s nurse or her governess, perhaps? He wondered, even though her wardrobe did not announce her to be either of those.

  She lowered her head and curtsied. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Grace. I am Isabella Thornton, the daughter of the Earl of Chatham.”

  He stood silent, trying to make sense of her words.

  “I have travelled with my maid. I believe she is seeing to the matter of my trunks,” she continued, her voice as delightful as music played gently on a harp.

  “You are Isabella Thornton?” he asked as he tried to reconcile the woman who was standing in front of him with the image of a young child.

  “I am known as Lady Isabella, Sir.” She smiled. “I was told that you were expecting me.”

  …

  End of the Reading Sample.

  What fate awaits the woman who has lost everything? What of the duke who has sworn never to love again? Find out now!

  Grab An Orphan for the Duke on Amazon.

  Also by Audrey Ashwood

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you enjoyed my last book and
that you’re ready to move onto the next. You’ll find my other books and series below. I have three regency romance series that are ready for you.

  Here is what’s in store…

  The Evesham Series features the three Evesham daughters Annabelle, Felicity and Rose on their journey to finding love. While each book is a standalone, starting at the beginning (and going in order) is more fun.

  The Evesham Series:

  The Cold Earl’s Bride

  No Lord Desired

  An Unkissed Lady

  The Wharton Series features several different plotlines, including the tale of a poor girl whisked into a world of wealth and privilege by her grandmother; a women on the brink of ruin who must marry a dark duke with an even darker secret; and a duke who agrees to raise the orphaned daughter of his dying best friend, only to find she’s not a child but a beautiful woman. Each book is a standalone.

  The Wharton Series:

  A Bride for the Viscount’s Cold Son

  The Duke of the Moors

  An Orphan for the Duke

  Come along and join Rosalie, Grace, and Claire on their quest to find their happily ever afters. The Curtis Sisters Series is a clean and wholesome historical romance series written by R.R. Wynter and co-written by Audrey Ashwood.