A Chance Gone By (Brides By Chance Regency Adventures Book 2)

by Elizabeth Bailey

  “That’s it. Said if Justin thought you were looking to wed elsewhere, he’d come to his senses.”

  Justin’s hold tightened about Marianne’s hand. “She was right.”

  “Hate to say it, but she usually is, my mother.”

  Marianne could not hold back the rising amusement. “She made you Justin’s decoy.”

  Alex laughed. “Just so. And it worked.”

  “Why could you not have come out and said so at the outset?”

  “Don’t be a nodcock, coz. Had to find it out for yourself.”

  Justin thumped his cousin on the shoulder. “Well, and I must thank you too, Alex. You stood buff and kept me sane.”

  Marianne saw his cousin redden. Had she not guessed all along he had been Justin’s confidant? “Have I you to thank for delivering Justin into my clutches then?”

  “Nothing of the sort. Mind you, had to call him to order now and then.”

  “So you did. But if you will forgive me, Alex, we’ll resume this discussion at a later date.”

  Alex cocked an eyebrow. “De trop, am I? I can take a hint, coz. I’ll take myself off.”

  He shook Justin’s hand once more, dropped a quick kiss on Marianne’s cheek, and left them.

  Resuming their leisurely progress, Marianne felt Justin take her hand again. She was charmed with the gesture, feeling all the freedom of being able to show her love by letting her fingers entwine with his, and feeling too the warmth of knowing herself beloved.

  Justin was silent so long, she became a trifle concerned.

  “What are you thinking?”

  His hold tightened briefly, and a faint grimace came her way as he looked at her. “My stepmother’s tongue betrayed me. I had not wanted to tell you of my father’s words.”

  The light in her heart did not dim. “Well, he had reason. He was doing what he thought was the best for you.”

  “It is like you to be so generous, Marianne, but I can’t be. He condemned me — and you too, I now learn — to purgatory, which would have lasted a lifetime had Selina not been enamoured of O’Donovan.”

  Remembrance of the pain sent a fleeting shadow across Marianne’s happiness, but she banished it. “Don’t let it trouble you. I dare say time would have done its work. You’d have found a modus vivendi of some kind.”

  “Lord knows I was trying to. I had convinced myself to think of you only as a friend. After all, I had years of practice.”

  “You convinced me too,” Marianne said on a wry note. “And your father never showed me anything but kindness. It did not occur to me he might disapprove of a union between us.”

  “Which made you believe I did not care enough.” He halted and turned her to him, doubt and dismay in the green eyes. “My darling, I’m sorry for that. Should I have told you? Explained why I could not offer?”

  Touched to her core, Marianne blinked away a stray tear. “No, my dearest one, you did right to keep me ignorant. It would have been anguish to give you up, knowing you wanted me as I wanted you. I would have suffered for you as well as for myself.”

  Justin drew her gently into his arms and kissed her. Not deeply, but with tenderness that told her more than any words how this relieved him.

  She did not speak again until they had reached the oak, and a wave of nostalgia went through Marianne as she recalled their many trysts in this favoured spot. Sitting with Justin’s arm cosily about her, Marianne could scarcely believe all that had happened in so short a time.

  “Dame Fortune has smiled kindly on us today.”

  Justin laughed. “And long overdue.”

  He signified his satisfaction with an assault that left her breathless and protesting.

  “If you do that, how can I behave?”

  The teasing gleam she loved appeared. “Who says I want you to?”

  She struck him, but lightly. “You are quite outrageous.”

  “What, with you dinning proper conduct into my ears all these years? Impossible. I am a model of decorum.”

  “You’ll be a model of a hen-pecked spouse by the time I’m done with you, dreadful creature!”

  “By no means. The moment you’ve made your vows I’ll turn into a domestic tyrant. You’ll be cowed in no time.”

  Marianne acknowledged this ludicrous notion with a giggle, but her attention had caught. She sat up in a bang. “Justin, it’s very well to talk of an immediate wedding, but how can we? You’ve no notion how much preparation will be needed, even for a small affair.”

  “Must it be such a bother? Can we not simply do the thing ourselves and —”

  “No, we can’t, don’t be absurd! You must at least invite your immediate family, and your tenants. And the servants will wish to be present.”

  “Good God! I’d prefer to elope!”

  Marianne set her hand on his where it rested on his knee. “You’re an earl and you have a duty to your people. You can’t possibly cheat them of the pleasure of partaking of your nuptials. It’s an important event in your career.”

  He sighed, but a rueful grin came her way. “If my father could hear you, he would acknowledge himself mistaken. You’re going to make the perfect countess, my love. You’ll probably drive me into an early grave with your chivvying, but I dare say that’s an irrelevancy.”

  “Not until I’ve presented you with an heir and a spare.”

  His lips quirked. “Why do you imagine I’m pressing for an early date?”

  Blushing furiously, Marianne delivered another hit. “I wish you will be serious!”

  Justin put his arm about her again and caught her close. “I can’t be. I’m much too happy.”

  Such a declaration could not but gratify her and Marianne submitted to a further demonstration of his affection. When he released her, he let out a careful breath, eyeing her with some degree of anxiety.

  “Marianne, my darling girl, can we not manage everything in the three weeks it must take for the banns to be read? I truly cannot wait longer for you.”

  Marianne met his ardent gaze and her heart turned over. Her smile was a trifle tremulous.

  “Then we will manage.” A thought occurred and she struck her hands together. “The village women!”

  Justin began to laugh. “What in the world are you talking about, you crazy woman?”

  She smiled, but caught his hand. “I was wondering how I could present an appearance appropriate to the occasion in such short order.”

  Consternation spread across his face. “Your bride clothes? What a clod I am! Marianne, forgive me! I should have thought of it. Pay no heed to me. Take whatever time you need.”

  She shook the hand she held. “No, listen. Mrs Woofferton was saying only this morning that Peggy Baker was asking for work. I will have the women fashion my gown. They did the most wonderful speedy job on the curtains for your bride’s bed —”

  She broke off, releasing his hand and throwing her fingers up to her mouth as recollection leapt into her mind.

  Justin was at once all concern. “What ails you now, sweetheart?”

  “The curtains! Justin, you can have no notion, but I must confess it now. Petherick had very little choice and time was pressing. Only when they were hung did I realise — it was utterly unconscious, I promise you, or I wouldn’t have done anything so disastrously selfish.”

  He captured her distracted hands and held them fast. “Softly, Marianne. I haven’t the least understanding of what you’re saying.”

  She let out a series of little breaths, fighting for composure. “You see, that pattern I chose was so like one I had as a child. And the coverlet too. Almost the exact same colour.”

  “Was it so? I thought when I saw it how the effect was suited to your personality.”

  “Oh, don’t say so. It was dreadful, Justin. Here was Lady Selina’s chamber, and I curtained her in a cocoon expressly designed for myself. I was never more ashamed!”

  She struggled, but the tears would not be suppressed, the echo of the turmoil she’d gone thro
ugh over those very curtains proving too much for her control. Justin, ever resourceful, provided her with a handkerchief. Then, when she’d composed herself, kissed her damp cheeks and cuddled her close.

  “It’s all over now, my dear one, and it is your cocoon, your rightful place, as it should have been at the outset.”

  She gave a watery chuckle. “Well, at least it won’t have to be done over.”

  He grinned and cocked an eyebrow. “Have you any more revelations, or are you done confessing your sins?”

  “Well, if there are any more,” she said with returning spirit, “I shan’t confess them to you, you wretch.”

  “Excellent. As to that cocoon of yours, I can think of several interesting ways to make use of it. Would you wish me to demonstrate?”

  Perceiving that her love was in no condition at this moment to be susceptible to scolds, Marianne gave herself up to a tantalising peek at just what he had in mind.

  ***

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  A NOTE TO THE READER

  Dear Reader,

  For once in my life, a song inspired me to write a story. I became riveted one day by the words of You Don’t Know Me as sung by the mellow tones of the King himself. For those too young to remember, I am talking about the one and only Elvis — as a forever fan, I say that with conviction.

  Written in 1955 by Cindy Walker, the first version I heard was by Ray Charles. YouTube features it by Elvis, Ray Charles, Willie Nelson, Michael Bublé and a beautifully sung arrangement by Norah Jones, to name but a few artists.

  The song is a heart-breaking testament to the pangs of unrequited love. The lyrics are beautiful and poignant and as the idea for a story crept into my head I couldn’t stop listening to the song. So much so, I found I had learned the words by heart, though some have slipped away from me now.

  The idea for the story encompassed the point of the song in that our hero thinks of our heroine only as a friend, where in truth she loves him deeply. Thus, he does not really know her. It’s the poignant nag of the constant ache that makes the song so telling, and this was what I tried to recreate in the story of Justin and Marianne.

  If you listen to the song, you’ll find the title comes directly from a part of the lyrics:

  Afraid and shy I let my chance go by

  The chance that you might love me too

  And Marianne does consider taking her chance, but her courage fails her.

  As the story opens, I wanted to explore the exact same emotional turmoil which originates from the first verse, and this in Marianne when Justin finally arrives at the ball:

  You give your hand to me

  And then you say hello

  And I can hardly speak

  My heart is beating so

  Likewise, after this painful interlude, to end that particular little scene, I wrenched poor Marianne’s heart as Justin walks away with his betrothed, with a lyric taken from the final verse:

  You give your hand to me

  And then you say goodbye

  I watch you walk away beside the lucky guy

  The result of all this is that the story always reminds me of the song and vice versa. Of course, since this is romance, A Chance Gone By ends more happily for Marianne than for the unfortunate singer of You Don’t Know Me! I leave you to judge whether the recreation is as heart-breaking as the song itself.

  If you would consider leaving a review, it would be much appreciated and very helpful. Do feel free to contact me on elizabeth@elizabethbailey.co.uk or find me on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads or my website www.elizabethbailey.co.uk.

  Elizabeth Bailey

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  ALSO BY ELIZABETH BAILEY

  The Lady Fan Mystery Series

  The Gilded Shroud

  The Deathly Portent

  The Opium Purge

  The Candlelit Coffin

  The Mortal Blow

  Brides by Chance Regency Adventures Series

  In Honour Bound

  Knight for a Lady

  A Winter’s Madcap Escapade

  Marriage for Music

  Damsel to the Rescue

  Widow in Mistletoe

  His Auction Prize

  Disaster and the Duke

  Taming the Vulture

  Georgian Historical Romance

  A Fragile Mask

  A Lady in Name

  An Angel’s Touch

  An Undesirable Liaison

  Fated Folly

  Friday Dreaming

  Hidden Flame

  Just Deserts

  Mademoiselle at Arms

  Seventh Heaven

  Sweet Sacrifice

  The Conqueror’s Dilemma

  The Viscount Besieged

  Short Romances

  Mad, Bad and Dangerous

  Out of the Desert Sands (historical)

  To Catch a Thief (historical)

  Heartbreak Holiday

  A Fateful Connection (Regency)

  A Matter of Time (Time-slip)

  Edgy Women’s Fiction

  Fly the Wild Echoes

  For One More Tomorrow

  Silence of a Stranger (suspense novella)

  Non-Fiction

  What’s Wrong with Your Novel? And how to fix it

  Musings from the Writer’s Desk

  Published by Sapere Books.

  11 Bank Chambers, Hornsey, London, N8 7NN,

  United Kingdom

  saperebooks.com

  Copyright © Elizabeth Bailey, 2016

  Elizabeth Bailey has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events, other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.

  Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales are purely coincidental.

  eBook ISBN: 9781912786541