And with that, she brushed past him and slammed the door on her departure.
***
Mercy was sitting in the front parlor at her great-aunt’s house on Hanover Square when Mary Ellen Marks, the Duchess of Fontaine, walked in. She didn’t even have to look up to know it was the seven and eighty-year-old widow, for her thumping cane preceded her entrance. Mercy had been meant to stay with the duchess, her father’s aunt, when she arrived in London, but she’d sent her maid in her stead. Now she chose to stay there rather than return to the townhouse with her parents, where the never-ending lectures from her mother would eventually drive her mad.
As the lady sat down across from her, Mercy didn’t expressly acknowledge her, but said snidely, “I suppose you’re here to gloat about my current predicament. Disgraced and discarded by a viscount that I never wanted in the first place and denied a love with a simple man. Makes for quite the story for the newspaper headlines, don’t you think?”
Never one to mince words, her aunt said, “I do believe that you needed to be taught a lesson in how to properly behave, but that doesn’t mean I wished for your heart to be broken.”
Mercy finally regarded the older woman. Her great-aunt’s wizened gaze was soft and understanding and almost made her burst into another round of tears when she thought there was no more left to shed. “I fear it’s too late for that.”
“One never knows what the future holds,” the duchess pointed out. “Look how well things ended for Miss Albright. She is quite happy in spite of your deception.”
“Indeed,” Mercy said sourly. “I shall have to find another ladies’ maid now when Faith was quite irreplaceable.”
The older lady shook her head slowly. “Still thinking of yourself instead of others, I see,” she murmured.
Mercy pinched the bridge of her nose, already weary with this conversation. “You misunderstand me. I’m happy for Faith, but she wasn’t just a devoted servant. She was my friend.” She stood and walked over to the mantel to stare into the flames of the fire. “And without Freddie—” She broke off, realizing that she didn’t even know the true name of the man who had quite stolen her heart. It was the only reason she hadn’t rushed back to Brighton already. She had known that last night they were together at the Mansion, embarking on that foolish scavenger hunt that something was amiss. Now, she would likely never know who he really was.
“Don’t despair, my dear girl. I have a feeling things aren’t as despondent as they may seem.”
Mercy didn’t turn around as the cane thumped back out the door, heralding the duchess’ departure.
She didn’t know how long she continued to stand there, wishing for some way to end this miserable feeling in the middle of her chest when there was a commotion in the foyer. Curious, she turned to see a gentleman in a greatcoat rushing by the parlor, but upon seeing her, he stopped and looked at her as if he’d seen a ghost.
When recognition struck her, she likely mirrored the same shock.
“Freddie?” she whispered and took a tentative step forward.
He didn’t move. “My God, it’s true.”
She frowned, completely at sea. “What’s true?”
“You’re Lady Mercy Granville.”
She wasn’t sure how he might have found out, but there wasn’t any point in lying about it any longer. “Yes.”
He shoved a hand through his dark hair, and she had to look away to compose herself. How many times had she stroked his gorgeous mane? Oh, how her heart ached to do it again!
“I can’t believe this.” He barked out a laugh that was more disbelief than merry. When he saw that she wasn’t joining in his humor, he sobered. “Do you not know who I am?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Well I know you’re not Freddie Bartholomew, for he’s engaged to my ladies’ maid.”
“Miss Albright,” he guessed correctly.
She frowned. “Yes. That’s right.”
This time when he laughed, his eyes twinkled with a matching enthusiasm. “I wouldn’t have ever guessed that things might have turned out as they have, but—” He broke off and strode toward her. He reached out and grasped her hands in his. “Allow me to properly introduce myself. My real name is Malcolm Grant, the Viscount of Westbrook.”
Mercy’s mouth fell open, as she struggled to absorb the fact that the man she’d fallen in love with over the past two weeks was none other than the man she’d been promised to. Instantly, her ire sparked and she moved away from him. “What was this? Some sort of game? A test to see if I was a worthy viscountess?”
He blinked. “What? No, you don’t understand, I—”
“No, you don’t understand.” She pointed her finger at him accusingly. She spun away from him and began to pace. “I can’t believe I was duped into thinking that you truly cared for me! What a lark you must have been having at my expense!”
“Might I remind you that I wasn’t the only one using such perfidy?” he snapped.
She faced him, her anger at the boiling point now. “I’m a woman who has to safeguard her reputation! What was your excuse?” He opened his mouth to reply, but when he hesitated, she pounced. “Oh! To think that all this time I was putting myself through such anguish, pining for someone who likely didn’t even care one whit for me and—”
He walked forward and grasped her upper arms, forcing her to stop pacing and look at him. “I love you, and I want to marry you, you stubborn woman. That hasn’t changed!”
“That’s a lie!” she countered hotly. “You broke things off with me through a letter! You didn’t even have the decency to do it in person!”
“Dammit, woman!” he growled in return and she could tell he was swiftly losing his patience. “I didn’t know you were the woman from Brighton until I returned to London!” He exhaled heavily. “How can I prove to you—?” He yanked her against him, capturing her mouth with his.
Mercy resisted the embrace for a moment, but those lips were just too familiar and she found herself melting into his arms.
When he pulled back, her anger had dissipated somewhat, followed by an aching need.
“Now do you believe me?” He didn’t wait for her to reply, but continued. “I was in agony when Lady Beth told me that you had returned to London. I left Brighton determined to find you, but when I returned home, my valet told me who you really were. You see, you weren’t the only one who wanted to embark on one last adventure before being chained in matrimony for the rest of time. I convinced my valet to take my place and escort my future bride about town until I returned, not knowing that you had done the same.” His grip tightened slightly. “Don’t you see what this means? We were both trying to outrun our fate, but we were destined all along.”
She blinked, the threat of hopeful tears blurring her vision. “What are you saying?”
“I want to marry you! Now, today, tomorrow.” He shook his head. “As soon as I can obtain a special license. Or we can go across the border to Gretna Green if you prefer. Just say you’ll be mine from this moment on.”
Mercy could hardly breathe. “Am I dreaming? Is this really happening?”
He smiled tenderly as a tear slipped down her cheek. He exhaled heavily as he wiped the moisture away with his thumb. “Indeed, my darling love.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck with a happy smile. “Then my answer is yes.” She laughed. “Apparently, it’s always been yes.”
Epilogue
A fortnight later…
Malcolm swept his wife into his arms amid a round of laughter and carried her over the threshold to his estate at Westbrook Hall in full view of the servants who had been lined up to greet their new mistress. “Welcome, Lady Westbrook,” he murmured in her ear, while catching the delicate lobe between his teeth and biting it gently.
Her merriment quickly subsided into a shivering mixture of delightful sighs. “I can’t wait for a tour, my lord,” she whispered in return. “I’m especially curious about the bedchambers.”
> He growled in approval and carried her up the sweeping staircase to the second floor. He opened the door, kicking it shut behind him as he strode to his bed and laid her down on the coverlet. He knew he would never tire of this woman, for each day that passed was like their first time together. While some of the excitement would likely dim over the years, she would always have a special place in his heart.
He joined her on the bed and after christening their new bedchamber in true newlywed fashion; they lay in each other’s arms in the aftermath, naked and replete. His wife traced a pattern on his chest as she lay on him. “I daresay it was rather fitting that we were joined in matrimony alongside our maid and valet.”
“And rather untoward, if my mother is to be believed,” he added with a smirk. “But since it was the vicarage on the Duchess of Fontaine’s estate, it’s not as if she could truly impugn such a high standing lady of the peerage when she sanctioned the double wedding.”
Mercy sighed. “I shall miss Faith dreadfully.”
“And I will mourn Freddie’s loss, as he was an exemplary valet, but I promised you that we would visit them often, and I intend to hold true to my word. However, you also seem to forget one key factor, my love.”
She lifted her head and looked at him curiously, “What’s that?”
He grinned. “As long as we’re together Miss Albright and Mr. Bartholomew will never be forgotten.”
Her laughter rang out through the room and he had never heard anything that sounded quite so… perfect.
I’d like to thank you for purchasing this book. I know you could have chosen any number of stories to read, but you picked this one and for that I am humbled and grateful! I hope that the romance captured your heart and added a smile to your day. If so, it would be awesome if you could share this book with your friends and family and post a review! Your feedback and support will help improve my writing and help me to continue growing as an author. You can find all my links on my website - authortabethawaite.wix.com/romance
Cheers! xo
About the Author
Tabetha Waite began her writing journey at a young age. At nine years old, she was crafting stories of all kinds on an old Underwood typewriter. She started reading romance in high school and immediately fell in love with the genre. She gained her first publishing contract with Etopia Press and released her debut novel in July of 2016 - “Why the Earl is After the Girl,” the first book in her Ways of Love Series. Since then, she has become a hybrid author, transitioning into indie publishing. She has won several awards for her books.
She is a small town, Missouri girl who continues to make her home in the Midwest with her husband and two wonderful daughters. When she’s not writing novels filled with adventure and heart, she is either reading, or searching the local antique mall or flea market for the latest interesting find. You can find her on most any social media site, and she encourages fans of her work to join her mailing list for updates.
www.authortabethawaite.wix.com/romance
In Love With a Charming Brunette Page 9
