by Cheryl Bolen
Her glance whisked to the three youngest lads. Each of them was very precious to her, and now she’d learned to love Fordyce and Mark, too. She prayed every day for Geoffrey’s safe return. “Does that mean we’ll work toward reform of child labor in Parliament?”
Her husband nodded, a twinkle in his eyes. “Indeed we shall.”
Their marriage was a true partnership. Her life was so full she had not written a single essay since the day she’d wed, but she had helped John draft speeches that were heartily approved when he delivered them in the House of Lords.
When they reached her farm, John was shocked over the transformation. Neat rows of flourishing barley filled every inch of the farm. Peter had borrowed John’s thrasher, and an assemblage of field hands had gathered to help harvest the crop. “I cannot believe it. It was never so productive even when old Mr. Abington
was alive.”
His gaze flicked to Emily. Love shone in her eyes as she watched Peter directing the workers.
Dunton Hall servants were busy setting tables for a picnic where they could all gather for a midday meal. When they finished, the family members and workers assembled around the long table and bowed their heads while John led them in prayer. “We give our thanks to the Lord for all the blessings He’s bestowed upon us, most especially for our family. May our Heavenly Father continue to bless this family, especially Geoff in war and Mark at school, and restore them safely to us.” He looked up at Peter. “Soon Peter and my much-loved daughter will be uniting in marriage, and it’s my hope they will be as happy as Rebecca and I.”
Her husband looked at her, and his lazy, affectionate perusal still had the power to start a joyous fluttering in her heart. She clutched his hand and silently prayed her own thanks for her abundant blessings.
How strange it seemed that just one year earlier she’d had nothing. No home of her own. No family to call her own. And she’d thought she would never find a husband who would not only own her heart but would also come to truly be her other half.
So many times since the day she’d married John she had asked her Savior to help her honor those wedding vows she’d spoken that day at St. George’s, vows which then had made her feel a fraud. During the darkest days of her marriage, she’d almost lost faith that her Savior would once more come to her aid.
Now, as she looked at John with an expanding heart, she gloried in the depth of her love for him, gloried in the knowledge that he loved her as mightily in return.
And she knew her Savior had always been present in this most satisfying of marriages. No woman in the kingdom could be as happy as she.
“I have one more announcement to make,” John said. “Mr. Stanley will be retiring but not before he trains his successor as steward of Dunton. Peter and Emily will not have to leave Dunton after they marry.”
A grateful Emily flew into her father’s arms, expressing her gratitude, and Peter stood just behind her, his hand at her waist and a smile on his face. His gaze darted to Rebecca. “Thank you for having more faith in me than I had in myself. I owe you my happiness.”
She shook her head. “It was your own hard work that has brought your success. We’re all very proud of you.”
“Indeed we are,” John said, clapping a hand on his nephew’s back. “You will make Em a fine husband.”
Emily came to hug Rebecca. “I am so happy you married Papa.”
Rebecca eyed her husband. “As am I. The most fortunate day of my life was the day I selected him to be my husband.”
Emily looked puzzled, but John and Rebecca merely laughed and kissed one another.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt of Handpicked Husband by Winnie Griggs!
Dear Reader,
Though I have been writing and publishing romance novels set in Regency England since 1998, this is my first one for Love Inspired Historical, and I feel I’ve found my home with these wholesome stories.
At the close of England’s Regency period, perhaps the greatest changes ever in British government occurred. In 1832 the great Reform Bill was passed. More changes, like those limiting child labor and establishing compulsory education, came later in the century. Essentially it was a century that started with all the wealth and power resting with a few powerful families, and much of the population was illiterate and extremely poor. By the end of the century everyone possessed the right to be educated and the opportunity to improve their lot in life.
It was important to me that my hero and heroine, Rebecca and Aynsley, were working toward the reforms that were taking shape in British society. I hope I have succeeded in imbuing them with nobility of character.
For years I’ve been writing articles about Regency England. These can be found at my website, www.CherylBolen.com or at my blog, www.CherylsRegencyRamblings.wordpress.com. Readers can contact me through my website, too.
Blessings,
Cheryl Bolen
Questions for Discussion
At the beginning of the book, Rebecca risks humiliation in order to bring about the desired change in her life. What changes in your life would be important enough to risk being humiliated?
Though Aynsley had once preferred Rebecca’s beautiful sister, he comes to judge Rebecca not on her appearance but on her ideas. How do their shared ideas bring them closer together?
What does Aynsley want from his marriage to Rebecca that he lacked in his first marriage?
How does Aynsley justify his employment of children in his mines? Does he want to help pass legislation to restrict child labor?
Why does Rebecca not disclose her alter ego to Aynsley? How does she justify it?
After her marriage, why is Rebecca unable to write her essays?
Rebecca insists she cannot tell a lie, but in one instance she does. When does this occur? Do you think it’s permissible to compliment an undeserving person in order to avoid ill feelings?
Why does Emily resent her stepmother? Do these feelings make her loathsome? Can you put yourself in her shoes and imagine what it would be like to welcome a stepmother?
Why would a wealthy aristocrat like Aynsley want to reduce his own power by extending the franchise so the masses would be able to vote?
What brings about feelings of jealousy in Rebecca? Does she act on these feelings? How does this make her feel?
No matter how hostile Emily is to her, Rebecca insists she loves her stepdaughter. Could you “turn the other cheek” in such a manner? Should Rebecca have returned Emily’s hostility?
Why does Rebecca not tell Aynsley it was his daughter—not Rebecca—who betrayed him? Do you think she should have revealed the information to him? Would you have been able to conceal such a fact?
How did Aynsley react to Rebecca’s plan to allow his uncle to participate in family dinners? Do you think Aynsley’s first wife was right to exclude the uncle?
In what ways do you think Aynsley was a good Christian during the time he turned his back on God?
Do you agree with Rebecca’s assessment that the Lord sent her to Aynsley and his family? Why?
The things that were most important to Rebecca at the beginning of the book are not what are most important at the end. What does she discover is most important?
Chapter One
Northeast Texas, 1894
An ear-splitting shriek ricocheted through the forest, startling a raucous cloud of blackbirds from the roadside trees.
“Easy, Trib.” Adam Barr patted the horse’s neck as the animal shied. What now?
The buggy behind him slowed to a stop, but Adam ignored it, along with the uneasy questions from the three men seated inside. He’d promised to escort the men from Philadelphia to Texas, not be their nursemaid.
The wailing continued and Adam fought the urge to tilt back his head and answer with a wild, full-throated howl. He’d gritted his teeth so often these past few days the muscles in his jaw hurt. Taking on this job when more important business waited for him in Philadelphia had him in a foul mood
, as his companions could no doubt attest.
After six years of biding his time—six years, two months and thirteen days to be exact—he’d thought he could finally pursue his goal without distraction.
If this assignment had come from anyone but Judge Madison...
Adam scanned the brush-skirted hardwoods lining the trail. Whatever the source of that eerie sound, it was headed their way.
He eased his rifle from the scabbard. Anticipation stirred his blood. He might have to employ his “company manners” with his three charges, but this bellowing beast was another matter.
No telling what manner of creature roamed this forsaken backwoods. The wail was too high-pitched to belong to a bear. A large cat maybe?
He urged Trib closer to the trees. There seemed to be a pattern to the sound, a certain mangled cadence. Almost as if—
Well, what do you know?
He leaned back. Not a wild animal after all. Too bad.
“Do you think it’s a wolf?”
Adam glanced over his shoulder. Chance’s expression, like his tone, held more eagerness than worry. Did the kid think it would be some kind of lark to face down a wolf? Of course, from what Judge Madison had told Adam, the twenty-one-year-old was on this expedition precisely because he was prone to seek out trouble.
“Sounds more like an infernal wildcat.” Everett adjusted his shirt cuff with exaggerated care, doing a creditable job of appearing unconcerned. But his British accent was more pronounced now, something Adam noticed happened when anything rattled the dandified cynic.
Mitchell, who controlled the skittish carriage horse with ease, refrained from comment. Nothing unusual in that. The loose-limbed bear of a man had spent most of the trip west with a sort of sleepy-eyed disinterest. What was different, however, was the subtle alertness that radiated from him now, as if he were a cavalryman waiting for the enemy to appear over the rise.
Another strident note drew Adam’s focus back to the roadside. He didn’t bother to disabuse them of the notion that it might be a wild animal. It’d do the pampered trio good to have something to worry about besides the unorthodox plot they’d gotten themselves embroiled in.
“Perhaps you should get the carriage moving,” Everett said. “I’m sure our escort can handle this better without us to distract him.”
“We shouldn’t abandon Mr. Barr,” Chance shot back. “He might need—”
“This is about common sense, Junior, not courage,” Everett interrupted. “Besides, I do believe Mr. Barr is more interested in getting rid of the lot of us than having us guard his back.”
“I told you before—the name’s Chance, not Junior.”
Adam’s jaw tightened. Everett was right. Even if it had been a grizzly headed this way, he’d rather face that than listen to more of this petty bickering. This assignment couldn’t be over soon enough to suit him.
A heartbeat later, the source of the ear-grating racket stepped onto the roadside. As soon as the creature caught sight of them, the discordant warble ceased.
“It’s a man!” Chance’s tone carried as much disappointment as surprise.
“Not quite.” Adam didn’t blame the youth for the mistake. The party responsible for that unmelodic braying wore baggy overalls and an equally oversize shirt, both of which had seen better days. There was even a smudge of dirt on one cheek to match those on the clothing.
But this was no man.
From Adam’s closer vantage, he spied a frizzy brown braid long enough to brush the seat of the overalls. That, along with the slender neck and hint of curves below, proclaimed this person as most definitely female. He hesitated, though, to use the word lady. She appeared more a disheveled forest waif than a civilized being.
The girl seemed as startled as the men in the carriage. But a flicker of something else—disbelief? wariness?—shadowed her surprise.
Remembering he still cradled the rifle, Adam resheathed it and tipped his hat. No point scaring her more than they already had.
Besides, she might be a good source of information.
He dug deep for the polite pleasantries that had grown rusty with disuse. “Good afternoon, miss. My apologies if we startled you.”
“Good heavens, it’s a girl.” Chance’s whispered-but-easily-heard comment only served to heighten the color in her cheeks as she broke eye contact with Adam.
“Or what passes for one in this barbaric wilderness.” Everett didn’t bother to lower his voice. “Do you think she speaks English?”
Adam narrowed his eyes in annoyance. Did the men think just because she looked like an uncivilized rube she didn’t have feelings?
But before he could say anything, the girl snapped out of her slack-jawed immobility. Her lips compressed and her eyes flashed daggers. So, there was more wildcat than rabbit in her, was there?
Instead of baring claws, however, she bent down to pluck a stem of grass. Straightening, she favored them with a broad, neighborly grin as she stuck the weed between her teeth.
But something in her stance told Adam the claws were there, merely out of sight for now. He also noticed she didn’t step away from the protection of the trees.
This girl was no fool. He mentally saluted her precaution, then leaned back in the saddle, ready to enjoy whatever performance she had in store for his companions.
“Howdy, gents.” Her words were drawn out in a thick, rustic drawl. “I reckon I was a mite surprised at that, but no harm done. We don’t get many strangers out this way, especially fancy-lookin’ gents like you ’uns.”
Her gaze flickered to Adam’s again. Some trick of the light lent a luminosity to her irises, made them appear to change from green to blue and back again. The image of a statue he’d admired in a museum years ago shimmered through his memory. The scales of the dragon had seemed to glow, had rippled with a fluidity of color that was mesmerizing.
This girl’s eyes were just like that.
She turned to the men behind him, and the spell was broken. Adam collected himself, annoyed at the fanciful turn his thoughts had taken. This trip must have worn on him more than he realized.
Mitchell remembered his manners first. “Are you all right, miss?”
She slid the stem of grass to the other corner of her mouth with bucolic nonchalance. As she did so, Adam saw her size up the speaker, no doubt weighing Mitchell’s intimidating size against his concerned gaze.
She finally flashed a friendly grin. “Fit as a filly in a field of clover. Why’d you ask?”
Let it go, Adam silently advised. But Mitchell apparently hadn’t figured out what was all too obvious to Adam.
“It’s just, well, that screeching we heard. I thought maybe something had frightened you.”
Adam watched for her reaction with interest. Would she dissolve into tears of mortification, or give Mitchell a blistering set-down for his innocent blunder?
To his surprise, she did neither. Instead she winced and gave a rueful smile. “My kinder friends call what you just heard a ‘joyful noise.’”
Adam tilted his hat back with one finger. A female who could laugh at herself? Now there was a novelty.
Ruddy color crept into Mitchell’s face along with the belated light of understanding. “I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean any disrespect. I—”
She smiled and raised a hand. “Don’t fret none, mister. No offense taken. Why do you think I wait ’til I’m out in the woods to really give it my all?”
She looked around, including each of them in her gaze. “You fellas lost? There’s not much out this way but trees and critters. If you’re looking for the road to Bent Willow, you passed the turn about three miles back.”
“Actually, we’re looking for Miss Regina Nash.” A flicker in her expression told Adam she knew the name. “I understand she’s staying somewhere out this way.” He’d hand it to the judge’s granddaughter, she’d taken great pains to make it as difficult for him to find her as possible. But she obviously didn’t know who she was dealing with if s
he thought a trek through the woods would deter him.
The girl nodded, pulling the stem from her mouth and waving it in the direction they’d been traveling. “Her place is about a twenty-minute ride farther on. Can’t miss it.” She rolled the stem between her fingers, eyeing him speculatively. “I was by there a bit ago, though, and it didn’t seem like they was expecting company.”
He swallowed a sour laugh. “No, I don’t imagine they are.” He watched her toss the blade of grass away, still intrigued by her in spite of himself.
Goodness knows it didn’t have anything to do with her looks. In that grubby getup and with smudges on her face, and her hair indifferently tamed into a bushy braid, she lacked anything resembling sophistication or feminine wiles. No, it was more the glimpse of personality he’d seen in her eyes, and the complete lack of apology for her untidy appearance, even after the tactless comments from the men in the carriage. The girl seemed a product of her environment, completely lacking artifice or slyness.
“Do you live nearby?” he heard himself ask. “Can we give you a ride?”
Now why had he made such an offer? It wasn’t like him to act impulsively. Too late to retract the offer now, though.
“No, thanks. I’m headed that’a way.” She waved toward the trail behind her.
Adam nodded with more relief than disappointment. As interesting as this backwoods miss was, he didn’t have time for distractions right now. The sooner he found Regina Nash, the sooner he could be done with this mess.
“Then I suppose we’ll be on our way.” He gathered the reins. “Good day.”
“Nice talking to you fellas.” She hooked her thumbs under the straps of her overalls and rocked back on her heels. “Tell Miz Nash I said hello when you see her.”
