The Viscount's Bride (Love's Pride Book 2)

by G. L. Snodgrass

  The Viscount’s Bride

  G.L. Snodgrass

  Copyright 2015 G.L. Snodgrass

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof in any form. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means. This is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Purple Herb

  Publishing

  http://www.glsnodgrass.com/

  You can contact me at

  GL@glsnodgrass.com

  Thank you for your support

  Other Books by G. L. Snodgrass

  The Reluctant Duke (Regency Romance)

  The Viscount’s Bride (Regency Romance)

  Certain Rules

  Unwritten Rules

  Worth Saving (Dystopian Romance)

  A Demon's Nightmare (Paranormal Romance)

  More Than Best Friends (Collection of Short Stories)

  Novellas

  Nothing So Quiet

  My Sister’s Best Friend

  Hidden Friends

  Love's Winding Road

  Short Stories

  Best Friends

  Rescuing a Best Friend

  A New Year's Kiss

  Asking the Right Question

  Prom Date

  The One That Got Away

  Dragon's Skin

  The First

  Dedicated to you, dear reader.

  Thank you.

  Contents

  The Viscount’s Bride

  G.L. Snodgrass

  Copyright 2015 G.L. Snodgrass

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgements

  The Reluctant Duke

  Chapter One

  Miss Caroline Jennings’s dreams disappeared with the simple rap of an auctioneer’s gavel. Every hope, each secret desire gone like the morning dew.

  Her home and everything in it taken. Sold to strangers. She gulped and bit her lip to hold back the tears. Not now she told herself. Crying would be for later. Not now.

  First her father’s death and now this embarrassment. She felt a pain so deep she feared it would never ease. All she had known was lost. It was as if her world had torn itself in two and swallowed her soul.

  Glancing across the room she observed her two younger sisters. Alice and Beatrice stood close together, holding hands. Looking at their world crumble. Her loves. Her reason for being. Having just turned sixteen, they were on the cusp of womanhood. Innocent, with no awareness of what lay before them.

  A warm sense of pride flowed into her soul. They were holding up well. No tears. Father and Mother would have been proud. It didn’t replace the pain but gave her something to hold onto. She would have given anything to protect them from this.

  A movement to her left brought her attention to a group of the servants looking on from the back of her mother’s parlor. Their grave faces set in stone.

  It wasn’t only her and her sister’s lives destroyed she thought. The impacts were far and wide. The servants would need to find new jobs. Start new lives. Friendships formed over a lifetime would be torn apart all because of her father and his failures.

  She must write letters of recommendation. Mentally she added it to the list of things that needed to be done to undo a life.

  Sighing to herself Caroline squared her shoulders and watched four strong workmen remove her mother’s dresser.

  What now she wondered. What do they do? Where do they go?

  Would they end up on the street?

  London streets were not very welcoming to three young women. A shaft of fear pierced her heart. She knew the stories. Tales of fallen women sold into life’s of hell.

  Her mind frantically searched for someone to help. Someone to turn to in her hour of need. Nothing. There was no one. No family to take them in. No rich relatives that might offer a safe harbor in this storm. No prospective groom.

  Her father had neither sought nor needed friends. The family had never been accepted. Even their nearest neighbors barely acknowledged them.

  Not for the first time, she regretted her decision to forsake the marriage mart. Of course, her father’s history had stopped any hope long ago.

  Instead, she had convinced herself that her wish had been for a quiet, secluded life. A life where she could help her young sisters break away from their parent’s low beginnings and into society. Read her books, help with her charities. Maybe become the favorite aunt.

  My god, she realized. The hospital, she wouldn’t be able to help fund the Children’s hospital anymore. She must inform the board that donations would no longer be coming from the Jennings family.

  The list was growing ever longer.

  A sense of overwhelming helplessness washed through her. Several of the people in the crowd glanced at her, obviously wondering how she would react. Waiting for her to fall apart.

  She buried her hands in the folds of her dress to stop anyone seeing them shake. Her world might be coming to an end, but that was no reason to let anyone know how hurt she was.

  “Never let them see your fear,” her father used to say.

  Maybe if he’d been a little more afraid they wouldn’t be in this fix, she thought, then immediately chastised herself for thinking such thoughts. He wasn’t to blame. Not really. He had come so far, given them such a beautiful and wonderful life.

  All the way from a Dorset fisherman to Hyde Park of London.

  Not for the first time she wondered where her father had gotten his money. Maybe if she knew, she could do something to replenish their fortune.

  No matter where he had gotten it initially. It hadn’t lasted. Nothing ever does. She had no idea that the money had disappeared long ago. Washed away through a thousand merchants. All to build this privileged world for his family.

  She could remember him pacing back and forth in his study. A sense of regret and guilt flowed through her. Why hadn’t she pushed him to find out what was wrong. She should have asked for his secrets.

  Their lifestyle hadn’t helped things. She wished he had told her of his troubles. She and her sisters could have done so much to ease his burden.

  Instead, she had willingly believed that life would go on as before. Never questioning, never worrying. She had been such a fool.

  Shuddering, she thought of all the shopping sprees, the milliner’s bill alone must have given him a shock. But he had never said a word. Always so desperate to ensure his daughters had what he had never had.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the approach of Mr. Tanner, her father’s solicitor. The tall, thin man had a small smile. The kind of smile that made a girl’s spine tingle with warning.

  “Miss Jennings. I have good news,” he said.

  She tried to return his smile but failed miserably. Unless he told her
it had all been a dream. That her world had not been torn apart, no news this day would ease the pain.

  “It appears that we have done better than expected. The sale will cover your father’s debts.”

  Her heart did not soar with elation. She could care less. They were taking her mother’s dresser. What did she care if some London businessmen she didn’t know were satisfied? A burning anger began to build.

  “It is nice to know that the creditors will be satisfied. We wouldn’t want them to suffer now would we,” she said. Trying hard not to sneer.

  “No, of course not,” Mr. Tanner said, oblivious to her sarcasm.

  “But,” he continued. “The good news is that there will be a little left over. Even after the servants are paid, my fees taken care of, and, of course, the auctioneer’s percentage. Even then, you should receive a small amount. Enough perhaps?"

  Her blood ran cold as she remembered her childhood home. That had not been her plans. The girls would never marry into society if they lived in some hovel on a barren back road in the country. They wouldn’t meet bankers and barristers or poets and soldiers living at the end of the road. Especially in Dorset.

  Her London would be lost to her. The museums, libraries. The hustle and bustle of this vibrant city would be denied to them. Instead, if they were lucky, they would live three to a room in some rundown shack. Scraping a living from the kitchen garden.

  Her mind flashed to the small house she had been born into. The bare gray walls. The wobbly ladder that led to her loft. The wooden shutters that failed to keep the wind out. Her mother’s red hands on washing day.

  Maybe she could become a ladies companion or a governess. But the girls. What of them.

  She smiled faintly and said. “Thank you, Mr. Tanner. That is good news.”

  He puffed up as if he had brought her life saving medicine.

  She so wanted to tell him the truth. That her life was ruined. The lives of her sisters was ruined. While it might be better than selling themselves on a London street corner. It wasn’t better by much.

  “Your father was from Dorset wasn’t he,” Mr. Tanner said. “Perhaps you could return there. I am sure he had friends who would help.”

  The thought of returning to Dorset filled her with self-loathing. They had come so far. To return in shame would be the ultimate failure. A shiver ran down her spine. She’d rather move to Scotland.

  “I have always wondered.” Mr. Tanner continued. “Where did your father obtain his wealth? He refused to discuss it with me. I have always thought though that it was related to his life in Dorset.

  Caroline smiled weakly but did not answer. The last thing she was going to do was discuss her father’s business with a London solicitor.

  “The buyer has agreed.” Mr. Tanner said interrupting her thoughts. “As a favor to me. To allow you and your sisters to remain in the house until the end of the month,” Mr. Tanner looked down at her as if he expected her to be grateful. How grateful she wondered. Was Mr. Tanner expressing interest in her? Now, at a time like this?

  Be careful Caroline, she thought. You’re a penniless woman with two young women to care for. You can’t ignore such possibilities anymore.

  A shudder shook her body. There were worse things than a hovel in the country she realized.

  Smiling back at the tall man she tried to pretend that she did not recognize the gleam in his eyes.

  “Our coach and horses? What of them. They were hired I believe?”

  He opened his leather binder and scanned a piece of paper. His eyes narrowed as if he was having problems reading it.

  “Ah, the coach and team. Yes, those are rented, quarterly, Miss Jennings. Your father always did insist on having the fastest horses. Those are paid for until the end of the next month.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Tanner. That is good news.”

  “Why may I ask? Are you planning on going somewhere?”

  “Yes, Mr. Tanner. Dorset. Maybe I can find the answers there.”

  .o0o.

  The summer salt air greeted her like a long lost cousin. The sharp, tangy aroma of dried seaweed and distant surf drew her mind back to a thousand memories as a little girl.

  Pulling her gloves tight, she waited for Hampton to open the carriage door. She glanced at Amy to see if she was being judged by her maid. Well, she couldn’t really blame her. It was rather embarrassing.

  Her loyal maid and really, her only friend outside of the family. What did that say when you had to pay someone to be your friend she wondered?

  The carriage door snapped open but still she hesitated. You can’t put this off any longer. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into her new world.

  The house was smaller than she remembered. Very much smaller. How had they ever gone from this to a spacious mansion on Hyde Park?

  It looked old and decrepit. Made of field stone. The mortar showed cracks. She could just imagine the cold sea air seeping through the walls in December.

  No one had lived here for fifteen years. One of the shutters had twisted and hung by a single hinge. Birds had probably built nests in the brick chimney.

  Her stomach fell and tears threated to erupt.

  Sighing to herself she shook her head. It was so much worse than she had feared. It would take all of their funds to make it livable.

  “Stay here,” she said to Hampton and Amy. Her voice shook. Don’t let them see the pain she reminded herself.

  They both glanced at the house and then back at her.

  “Miss? Are you sure? Maybe I should go in first,” Hampton said.

  She smiled at him. She couldn’t tell him that she was embarrassed for him to see how far the family had fallen. Bad enough he had seen the house at all. No, she must do this herself. In a few days, there would no longer be servants available to make life easier. Best she learn now.

  “That is all right Hampton. Nothing will hurt me here.”

  Pulling open the only door, she stepped into the darkness. Slivers of light filtered in from the cracks in the shutters. Dust and dirt danced in the narrow sunbeams.

  A sudden movement to her left made her jump. A mouse, several mice in fact, scattered. Surprised by her entry. A full body shiver ran through her. Her mother would be so ashamed. She had always kept the house spotless.

  They were going to need a cat. Several in fact.

  She could tolerate an occasional mouse in the fields. But inside the house? Her sisters would become hysterical. Once again the sad sinking feeling of failure washed through her.

  The inside of the house was as she remembered it. One large room. A small kitchen next to the fireplace. An old table in the center and her parent’s bed on the far side.

  A ladder led to the loft above. Glancing at the ladder she smiled to herself. The girls would have to learn how to climb. They were going to have to learn so much.

  Running her hand along the table a brief memory flashed into her mind. Strange men with strange accents talking with her father late at night around this very table. Mother had hurried her and the babies to bed before they arrived.

  She had feigned sleep then snuck to the edge of the loft and looked over the edge. Three rough looking men were in a heated argument with her father. Their accents were strong and so strange that she couldn’t understand what they said. They wanted her father to do something, but he refused.

  She had wanted to tell the men to leave her father alone.

  The largest of the men had looked evil. She remembered the vicar talking about demons. Caroline had thought for sure this was what they would look like. Evil eyes that never rested. Long fingers with uncut yellow fingernails that looked more claws.

  Even at her young age she knew that this man didn’t work with his hands. He was too evil to ever do anything honest.

  She could remember the sense of fear that had flashed through her. Father had looked worried. Her big strong father was never worried. What could make him this concerned? Finally, he’d nodded his head in defeat and acc
epted what the men were saying.

  She had never seen her father look so crestfallen. It was a turning point in her life she realized. The first time she had discovered that her father was less than perfect.

  Squaring her shoulders, adult Caroline pushed aside the little girl memories.

  She looked around the room one more time. It would do. They could survive here, barely. Although some people might think that they’d be better off on the streets of London.

  “Be grateful Caroline,” she said to herself. “At least we will have a roof over our heads. Not much more, but at least a roof.”

  Dusting her hands, she squared her shoulders and left the house. Now to find Franklyn. Her father’s crewman and partner. Maybe he could tell her how her father rose from this to London.

  Chapter Two

  Caroline stared at her hands in her lap. Don’t let them see your fear she reminded herself. Even if it was only her maid Amy. No one must ever know.

  For the thousandth time, she pondered what she had learned in Dorset from Franklyn. No one must know. It would ruin any last chance for her sisters. Once again she swore to herself to take her father’s secret to the grave.

  She could take being poor. Destitute even. At least she could keep her head up with some semblance of pride. But if people knew the truth about her father. She’d never be able to look them in the eye.

  She had gone to Dorset hoping to find answers. Used a portion of their few remaining funds. Hoping to find some help. To find some answers.

  She shook her head and tried to put it behind her. It had taken days and piecing parts together until she found Franklyn. She had been surprised to find him still alive.

  Now, half blind with gnarled hands disfigured by a life time of pulling nets from freezing water. It had taken her another half the day to pull the story from him. When he was done, she wished desperately that she hadn’t.

  Sighing to herself she looked out of the coach.

  “How much longer Miss?” Amy asked.

  The maid had never been outside of London, but the young girl didn’t seem to enjoy the majesty of all that surrounded them. The tall trees they passed. The green fields swaying in the late summer wind. Caroline wondered once again what her life would have been like if her father hadn’t left his village for London.