BILLIONAIRE ROMANCE: The Unforgettable Southern Billionaires: The Complete Collection Boxed Set (Young Adult Rich Alpha Male Billionaire Romance)

by Walker, Violet

  I know that he was expecting a reaction. I could see him watching me carefully as though I were an unstable prototype on the verge of exploding, but I was too shocked to move. I just stood for a moment, blinking stupidly, before I could finally move my mouth enough to respond, “They settled on you?”

  Edmund shrugged but his hand twitched as though he wanted to reach towards me. “I was in a clerical position, but father thought that I could be… more, I suppose.” He grimaced again, though I could see that he meant for it to be a smile. “Even the unacknowledged children of Lord Haversham are expected to make good matches.”

  “And you went along with it.”

  “I – I didn’t want to, Rosalie, but I felt as though I must. He – he said that he would acknowledge me if I could get you to marry me. He would give me his name and welcome me as family. It’s everything I ever wanted.” He looked so earnest that I almost wanted to hold him close and comfort him. But the words he spoke repulsed me. I took a step backwards. He watched me go with mournful eyes. “Please, Rosalie, I know that it was wrong.”

  “And yet here we are,” I said. My voice wavered and bordered on hysterical. “Did my father tell you to sleep with me as well? Did he pay you extra for that?”

  “Never,” Edmund replied forcefully. “I swear it, Rosalie. He never – he knew that you wouldn’t want me as a suitor, but he’d hoped that you would consent to a marriage of convenience. He said that you’d scared off half the eligible men in the country, and that if he presented me to you as the son of a lord you would dismiss me on principle. But if I came as a manservant – if I could show you that I could care for you and make you happy – that you might at least consider it. He never – I don’t think the possibility that you could fall in love with me ever crossed his mind.”

  “It should never have crossed mine,” I said viciously. He flinched but I was too angry to feel sorry for him. “You have lied to me since the moment we met!”

  “I – yes, I have, but I didn’t want to!” he said. “Especially not after – well, I never expected to care for you as much as I do.”

  “No, of course not. This was all an elaborate ruse to marry into money and take your father’s name!”

  “Rosalie, I care about you,” he said, stepping forward with his arms outstretched as though he meant to take me into his arms. I stepped away and he hung for a moment in the air before slowly lowering them. His eyes were red and his adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “Rosalie, please –”

  “You’re dismissed.”

  “Rose –”

  “You’re dismissed, Mr Price!”

  I didn’t mean to raise my voice. He jumped as though he’d been scolded and gave me one last baleful look before bowing shortly and quitting the room. He closed the door gently behind him.

  As soon as he was gone, the gasping sob I’d been holding back during our encounter spilled out of my lips. I covered my mouth and realised that my hands were shaking. I turned my back on the door, threw myself onto my workbench, and let the tears fall.

  THE END

  Steampunk Romance

  Airborn

  Book Three

  Rose Haven

  Steampunk Romance: Airborn

  Chapter One

  I nearly fell out of the window the morning I got the steam engine working.

  Granted, my bedroom was on the first floor so the fall would not have killed me. But I still felt a twinge of concern when I realised that the shock I’d felt upon realising that the contraption worked – the shock which had sent me reeling backwards into the open window – could have killed me if I’d been in my attic workshop instead. If I hadn’t tangled my legs in the curtain I would have gone straight over.

  I quickly untangled my legs and straightened up, grateful that my yelp of surprise had been drowned out by the gruff rumbling of the machine. I had attached a wheel to the motor to test the spin of the gaskets, and as I watched, the engine sputtered for a moment and a large plume of grey smoke came out of the chimney. Then the scorched iron trembled as the wheel spun so quickly that I couldn’t make out the spokes – they blurred together, creating the illusion of a large plate sitting on the workbench.

  “Oh, lovely,” I said, watching the engine for a moment longer before closing the grate on the coal fire and stifling the flame. The engine sputtered for a moment longer before finally falling silent.

  I was quite pleased to see that the machine was working properly. I would have been more pleased if I weren’t exhausted from spending a month working on it. I had jury-rigged it from memory after the Mothers, an organisation which was dedicated to stifling the knowledge and freedom of scientists all over England, had stolen my original blueprints. I’d switched the fuel from oil to coal after a few incidents where I was nearly asphyxiated, but it was not until I switched from copper casing to iron that the engine was able to generate enough heat to get the wheel spinning.

  Someone knocked on the door of my room.

  My corset was undone, my room was littered with blueprints, and my hair was in such disarray that I thought it might reasonably be considered a nest for woodland creatures. The box of broken indoor illumination globes I’d built was sitting in the corner, the light from the window glinting on the glass baubles which made up their casing.

  Deciding that there would really be no point in trying to clean up, I called out: “Enter!”

  Edmund’s face appeared in the crack of the door. I felt a swoop of emotion in my chest when I saw him, but I suppressed the urge to run into his arms.

  “Can I help you, Mr Price?” I asked, straightening up and throwing my chin out, trying to conjure as much dignity as I could despite my state of undress.

  Edmund hesitated, gazing around the room at the mess I’d made – his eyes finally falling on the steam engine in the centre of my largest workbench.

  “I heard a noise,” he said slowly. “Are you alright Ro- Miss Lapointe?”

  It wasn’t the first time in the last month that he’d almost called me by my Christian name. Before our falling out, I had enjoyed it when he bucked convention and spoke to me as an equal. Now, I appreciated the distance which my name and title brought.

  “Everything is fine, Mr Price,” I replied. “I will call you if you are required.” He hesitated again, lingering in the doorway as though he meant to keep speaking. My mouth went dry as I said: “That will be all, Mr Price.”

  His face fell. “Of course, Miss Lapointe.” He turned and closed the door gently behind him.

  I felt a twinge of regret when I saw him disappear, but I suppressed that as well. Now was not the time to be lingering over what could have been. I turned to my steam engine and ran my fingers over the warm metal, pulling a spanner out of my tool belt and tightening one of the gaskets. I had to cannibalise my father’s old cuckoo clock for spare parts – I only hoped that I could put the thing back together before he returned home from France.

  Despite my best intentions, my mind inevitably wandered towards Edmund. I wished that my father would return from France so that I could ask him to send the man away. He’d sent a letter several weeks ago to tell me that his trip had been extended indefinitely. I’d considered sending a scathing reply, but I felt that the depth of my fury could not be expressed in writing.

  My father had colluded with Edmund’s father to arrange for us to marry. Rather than ask me outright, Father hired Edmund as my manservant so that I would get used to him and perhaps fall in love – or at least like him enough to consider bonding myself to him for the rest of my life. Edmund had known, but he hadn’t seen fit to tell me until a slip of his tongue had betrayed him. The idea that Edmund had lied to me – that he’d known about my father’s plans for weeks and had not considered it important for me to know – was a deeper blow than the knowledge that Father had intended to trick me. After all, Father was always trying to trick me into marriage. But Edmund… I had trusted Edmund. I had given myself to him in ways I’d never considered giving m
yself to any man. He’d deliberately set out to trick me into falling in love with him – all so that he could be acknowledged by his father, a Lord with more illegitimate children than he had teeth.

  I still dreamed of him every night: the feeling of his lips on my skin, the brush of his naked body against me, over me, within me. It was an intoxicating thought which would often lead to my waking, gasping, and trembling as I tried to settle into a restless sleep. Every night I remember the way it felt when he’d held me and kissed me, and every day I would wake up to find him distant, apologetic, and so cold I thought that my blood might freeze in my veins.

  That was perhaps the worst part of this whole affair. I’d become addicted to the smell of his skin and the feeling of him pressed against me. Now all I had was the memory of it.

  I tried to push those thoughts away and focus on my work, but after a while I realised that it was hopeless. Seeing Edmund always threw me off. Eventually I gave up, considering myself happy with the engine as it was and stuffing my spanner back into my tool belt and ringing for a maid. Most of the maids wouldn’t come in my room – I got the impression that most of them thought I was possessed – but there was one who would always come when I called.

  Another knock on the door: “You called, Miss Lapointe?”

  “Come in, Kitty,” I called.

  Kitty entered the room, glancing around with little interest and curtseying to me. Kitty was a short, mousy girl with a gap in her front teeth and vibrant green eyes, and she seemed almost bored by me – though she was always sure to be respectful.

  “Is the noise bothering the maids?” I asked.

  Kitty hesitated. “Yes, Miss,” she said finally. “I thought you might have hurt yourself, but Mr Price said he would come to check on you.”

  I nodded along with her. “Well, I apologise for that,” I said. “In the future, if the maids are concerned for my safety, you may come and see to it – Mr Price surely has other duties.”

  “I thought his duty was taking care of you?” Kitty asked.

  That was the cover-story he’d fed the maids, I remembered. His true duty was to marry me, inherit my money, and earn his father’s approval. My own father must have truly be scraping the bottom of the barrel of suitors if he was willing to marry me off to the bastard son of a lord. Or perhaps he was just desperate to be rid of me? I’d never given much thought to the possibility that I could be a burden on my father, but after seeing the lengths he was willing to go to so that I would marry… well, I was beginning to realise just how awful it must be for him to have raised a daughter who refuses to even consider marriage.

  “Whatever his duties are, I would like you to see to my safety from now on.”

  Kitty looked like she was stifling a sigh. I wouldn’t have blamed her if she had sighed out loud. I had given her several new duties since my falling out with Edmund – she was responsible for bringing me my meals now, so that I wouldn’t need to see him three times a day.

  “Of course, Miss,” she said. Then she seemed to remember something and patted her apron, pulling an envelope out of her pocket. “This arrived for you a while ago. I wanted to wait until there was a lull in… all of this –” She gestured around at the room. “Before I brought it up to you.”

  “Thank you,” I said, grateful that Kitty had taken the delivery of the mail instead of Edmund. I wondered what Edmund had been doing to miss the mail, but I did not want to look a gift horse in the mouth. “I’ll call you if I need anything else.”

  Kitty curtseyed and left the room in a whirl of skirts. I waited until she was gone before settling on the bed – my chairs were all covered in tools and metal shavings – and slit open the envelope with one of my fingernails. My eyes fell on the salutation at the end of the letter, and my heart sank: With love, Mummy.

  Swallowing hard, I took a moment to let my fingers stop shaking. Then I read:

  ‘Dearest Rosalie,

  I know that you are still upset with me because of the unfortunate incident with your attic. I understand that your father has not returned from France yet, and will not return from the foreseeable future. I hope that you have arranged to have the attic fixed in the interim?’

  The paper crinkled in my hands as I read. I could read the condescension in her words as surely as if she were standing right in front of me, and I did not appreciate it. I felt like an eight year-old child again being scolded for getting my dress dirty. Mother may not have been a mother for many years, but she had lost none of the talent for raising naughty children.

  ‘I was also very disappointed to hear that your relationship with the new manservant, Mr Price, has become inappropriately close. I am glad to hear that he has excused himself from your boudoir.’

  “How did you know that?” I asked, speaking aloud without realising. I shut my mouth quickly and stared around the room, looking for anything which could have been out of place.

  The Mothers Organisation had put listening devices in my attic workshop to make sure that I was not making any breakthroughs which could be considered dangerous to society. I couldn’t see how they could have done that in my bedroom – I had barely left it since I’d been forced to hide out there. The thought that she could know about Edmund and I, the fact that she could have listened to us, made me feel sick to my stomach with mortification. I clenched my teeth to stop the bile rising in my throat.

  I couldn’t see anything out of place, but I could not know for sure. Was there another way that the Mothers could be getting their information? Still mulling that thought over, I turned back to the letter.

  ‘Please remember that your behaviour in your youth could lead to regrets and consequences which you will feel for the rest of your life. You are lucky that you came out of the affair without disgracing yourself or your family.’

  “As if you are in any position to lecture me about family,” I muttered angrily.

  ‘I am aware that you are continuing your experiments. I cannot express to you how foolish this endeavour is. Believe me when I say that the world is not ready for your brilliance, and my organisation is not prone to giving second chances. I was able to intervene on your behalf before, but my power is limited and I will not be able to protect you from them for much longer. When I was young, I was foolish and too clever for my own good. Your father indulged me, but that path would have led to ruin if only I hadn’t made a deal with The Mothers for my life and your safety. You have no idea how heartbroken I was to hear that you were following that path.

  I beg you, dearest Rosalie, to temper your mind. Accept an offer of marriage from a man of good family, and let yourself be content with mediocrity. I wish with all my heart that I had done so at your age.

  With love, Mummy’

  Chapter Two

  I stared at the letter for a long moment. I had hoped that any correspondence between my mother and myself would give me the answers to questions which had haunted me for the last several weeks – but this letter raised more questions than it answered. What kind of deal had she made with The Mothers? Exactly how much power did she have with the organisation? How did she know about Edmund – and my continued experimentations?

  Shaking my head slightly, I folded the letter and slid it back into its envelope. The scent of lilacs wafted up from the paper, and it reminded me of Sunday mornings spent snuggling into my mother’s skirts or lounging in her bed. I could barely remember how she looked – every memory I had of her had been re-written with the image of her standing in my attic workshop with a pistol on her hip. Before she’d attacked with The Mothers I’d had fond, if vague, memories of her. But then I’d learned that she had faked her death and left myself and my father to join a group of women bent on suppressing intellectual curiosity.

  But if she were to be believed, then she had not chosen that fate. The Mothers had given her a choice – join them or die.

  “I would have died,” I said aloud, hoping that she was listening. “I would have died rather than leave my daughter.”


  There was no response.

  My sadness and confusion was rapidly replaced with anger. She had counselled me to be content with marriage and mediocrity, but she could hardly make any claims to my good sense when she had left me to my own devices for over half of my life. Whatever foolish mistakes she had made when she was young, whatever choices had led her down this road, she could not speak to my choices when she had already proven herself incapable of making ones.

  Besides, I thought gazing over at the steam engine and the drawer which concealed the pistol I had modified with The Mothers’ design in mind – she did not have the advantages I had. She had been surprised by The Mothers’ machinations. I had seen what they were capable of, and I was ready for them.

  But how did she know about Edmund?

  I stood up, tossing the envelope onto the workbench and ringing the bell for a servant. Kitty appeared in the doorway almost immediately.

  “Yes, Miss?” she asked, her eyes darting to the envelope curiously.

  “Will you fetch Mr Price for me, Kitty?”

  Kitty nodded, not betraying the confusion she must have been feeling. I had just finished telling her that I did not want Mr Price to attend me, and now I was asking for him. She did not comment – she curtseyed quickly and turned to fetch him. I began to pace while I was waiting.

  “Miss Lapointe?” Edmund asked when he entered, pulling me out of my thoughts. He stood in the doorway, leaning heavily on his cane, and gazed at me with an unreadable expression.

  I stopped pacing and pushed aside the sensation of longing which built up in my chest upon seeing him. “Come in, close the door.” He did as I asked, giving me a questioning look as he closed the door gently behind him. “Did you tell anyone about our affair?”