Becoming A Lady
By
Marie Higgins
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Becoming A Lady
Copyright © 2013 by Marie Higgins
(this book was previously published under my old pen name – Phyllis)
Cover Design by Sheri McGathy
Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
Dorothy Paxton is not pleased when a handsome Englishman walks into her inn and announces he's taking her to England to reunite her with the grandfather who turned his back on her years ago. Her escort, Calvin Seton, bribes her by paying her brother's doctor's bills, and soon she's on the ship sailing for London. Little by little, Calvin's charm softens her heart. While her lady's companion teaches her to become a lady, Dorothy is secretly wondering if the price of love is worth it. Especially when she knows Calvin will walk out of her life as soon as they reach England.
Can she afford the cost of love?
Dedication
I want to thank Melissa Lynne Blue, Mary Martinez, and Veronica for helping me with this story. You ladies are the greatest!
Chapter One
New York, 1823
The Once Proud Goose
With great curiosity, Calvin Seton stared at the sign creaking above the inn door. He had to hand it to these Americans, the establishment had been christened with an exceptionally creative name. Truly, the most unique he’d encountered since he’d stumbled across the tavern dubbed The Moldy Eye located in Scotland.
Shrugging away his musing, Calvin adjusted his hat, grasped his walking stick and limped toward the three wooden steps leading into the inn. Thankfully, there were only three steps to climb. He loathed steps because of his injured leg. Nevertheless, he was here for one and one purpose alone. Find the Duke of Longdale’s illegitimate granddaughter, Dorothy Paxton. What worried Calvin was that he would have to drag the girl back to England kicking and screaming.
Just thinking of the job he’d reluctantly accepted had him gritting his teeth in irritation. While the duke paid well, Calvin didn’t think retrieving the man’s long-lost granddaughter constituted much of a position for a gentleman. But Calvin’s father and Longdale were friends, and with Calvin’s military career up in flames, the position had been impossible to refuse.
The old duke had expertly appealed to Calvin’s ego, arguing that no other man had the necessary skills for the job. As a high-ranking scout officer, Calvin had done reconnaissance on a regular basis for three long years.
Lamplight shone golden and inviting through the window, beckoning Calvin up the steps. The tantalizing scent of roasted meat and ale wafted from the door. Even if his quest for Miss Paxton didn’t end here, he could certainly use a hot meal. He swung the door inward and—
Crash!
An entire table toppled, sending several pints and plates filled with food rolling across the floor. Calvin jumped back to keep from getting anything splattered on his boots.
A young woman in brown, homespun garb, hurried around one side, squaring off with a man who looked to be in his fiftieth year.
“Mr. Slater, I’ll have to ask you to leave.” The girl held her chin at a defiant angle as she kept the toppled table between herself and the man.
“Come now, missy. I offered to pay ye fer it.”
“The services you’re referring to are not offered at my establishment. Kindly leave.”
Shock washed through Calvin. This place was hers? Impossible! She was too young—mayhap early in her twentieth year. He must have not heard correctly.
The handful of patrons scattered about the room, gawking at the display. They seemed less inclined to help the young serving woman. Calvin took a few careful steps forward, preparing to help the wench if these savage Americans didn’t feel the need.
Slater staggered two steps around the corner of the table with the obvious intent to continue pursuit of his petite young prey.
“I’m warning you, Mr. Slater. Jeremy will be back any moment and Mrs. Currey is right up those stairs. Leave now before things start to get ugly.” The young woman’s gazed moved slowly over the man named Slater, from his dingy worn clothes, to his scuffed up boots. She shrugged. “On second thought, I see things have already gotten ugly.” She hurried toward a door leading to the back room as a few patrons chuckled.
Slater growled. “Missy, yer threats don’t scare me.” He lunged to grab her, but she darted away. “Come now, my dear. I bet ye’ve never been kissed by a real man.”
“Ha!” She laughed haughtily. “A real man is going to kiss me? Where is he? For some reason, I thought you were the one after that privilege.”
Snickers scattered around the room, but still, nobody moved to help.
The man with silver streaks through his dark hair drew closer to the young woman by the second, and if Slater didn’t back away, Calvin would interfere. The poor girl would not be able to fight off Slater by herself. He was double the girl’s size, and although obviously foxed, Slater could still be powerfully strong.
“Ah, but Missy. I am a real man. Come ‘ere and let me show ye.”
She glared at her attacker, swiping a blonde curl off her forehead, pushing it back toward the bun skewed on her neck. “I can assure you, Mr. Slater, if you are a real man, then I would rather be kissed by a cow.” She held up a hand, her palm facing him.
Slater jumped, and as quick as a blink, grabbed the young woman’s wrists. “Ye’r not gettin’ away from me now.”
“I beg you, Slater, leave now. I see no need for violence.”
“Pity,” Calvin interrupted loudly, grasping Slater’s shoulder, “but I do.”
Slater whirled toward Calvin, the drunk’s glassy eyes wide with shock at being confronted by a stranger. “This is none of yer business.”
Calvin tightened his grip, making the man flinch. “The lady asked you to leave. I suggest you do so before I feel the need to help you through that door.”
“Lady?” Slater belched, and it was followed by a laugh. “Ye think she’s a lady?”
He shoved at Calvin, making him stumble back into a table. A sharp pain shot through his injured leg and he grimaced. Quickly, he righted himself, preparing himself for battle, because clearly this imbecile did not understand when to stop.
“Lo, look what we ‘ave ‘ere.” Slater pointed towards Calvin. “A cripple who wants to play rescuer.”
The bulky man began to turn toward the young woman again. Calvin gripped his cane harder and struggled to be of some assistance. Just then the woman lifted a bottle of spirits and smacked it across Slater’s head. Breaking glass fell around the man mere seconds before he fell, slamming to the floor in an unconscious heap. Blood trickled from the cut on his forehead.
Shuffling of feet pounded on the floor as a man—slightly younger than the woman—ran in from outside. He stood over Slater’s body, shifting his gaze between him and the woman. “Dorothy? What have you done this time?”
Calvin blinked with wide eyes. Dorothy? As in Dorothy Paxton? Silently, he prayed this was not the duke’s granddaughter. Longdale would have heart palpitations if he knew his long-lost granddaughter turned out like…this.
She dropped the neck of the broken bottle before planting her han
ds on her slim hips. Her gaze stayed on the younger man throwing an accusing glare. “Jeremy, do not lay blame at my feet. Anyone here will tell you Mr. Slater made unwanted advances toward me.” Her eyes moved to Calvin, and she pointed. “Ask this man right here. He even tried to get Slater to leave.”
Jeremy looked upon Calvin for the first time. Within seconds, the young man’s eyes widened as they traveled over Calvin. In fact, the woman acted as if she finally noticed him as well.
“I’m much obliged to you for assisting my sister,” Jeremy said and bowed.
Calvin returned the bow. “I could see how foxed the man was, and because of his intoxicated state, he would not listen to your sister’s warning. I feared for your sister’s safety.”
Jeremy turned to a couple of other men. “Help me move Slater outside.”
The clatter of footsteps on the stairs had Calvin turning toward the noise. A buxom woman wearing an off-white apron around her thick waist hustled into view. She gasped and ran to Dorothy.
“Miss Paxton, what happened here? Did another bloke try to force himself on you?”
Calvin’s hopes dropped as he silently cursed. This couldn’t possibly be… No, he couldn’t believe it. Yet the more he watched her—now relaxed and smiling as if she owned the victorious moment—the more she resembled her grandfather, Duke of Longdale.
Things were getting worse by the minute.
Taking a deep breath, Calvin moved toward a table and sat. Dorothy eyed him suspiciously as she helped the older woman lift the table that had toppled earlier. She and the woman talked in low voices as they cleaned the floor, but Calvin could not understand them. His mind was still trying to wrap around the fact that this woman was the duke’s granddaughter.
How was Calvin supposed to bring her back to her grandfather looking like this, in the worn and dirty clothes of a working class woman? Especially a woman who owns the inn! The old duke was way up in years, and there had been rumors of his health declining. Seeing his long-lost granddaughter like this would certainly put the old man in his grave.
Once the food had been picked off the floor and the other patrons were seated at their tables, Dorothy’s gaze rested fully on Calvin. Eyes wide, she glanced over him from the top of his hat down the length of his body to his Hessian boots. A smirk played upon her mouth.
“Good day, Miss,” Calvin greeted.
“Good day?” she answered. “You think this is a good day?”
“I’m quite certain you have had better,” he quickly corrected.
Chuckling, she shook her head. “Actually, Mister, this is a normal day for me. Now, what can I get you? Food or drink?”
“Forgive me, but I’m not here for either. As it were, I’m looking for someone.”
“I gathered as much.” She tilted her head, her stare narrowing. “But I don’t give out information unless you order a drink or a meal.”
Placing his hat on the table, he leaned forward. Peering directly into her steely blue eyes, he slid a couple coins on the surface. “If that is your game, then serve me a whiskey. Watered down, if you please.”
“If I please?” She snorted again. She grabbed the coins then moved quickly into the other room. Within seconds, she brought him a cup and set it in front of him.
Calvin had to give the woman some credit. Her establishment was clean, and the service was quick. “I thank you, Miss.” He grinned. “You service is very prompt. Here is another shilling for being so hasty.” He slid the coin on the table.
“Thank you kindly, milord.” She pocketed the money. “Now, what were you saying about finding someone?”
He had no plans of drinking the vile liquid, so he pushed it aside. “I’m looking for a certain woman, and the trail has led me here to New York. In fact, to this very establishment.”
“Does this woman have a name?”
“Dorothy Paxton.”
Her eyes widened once again. “Pray, why would you be looking for her?”
“I’ve been sent to find her. Now, if you will, I would like some answers.”
She shrugged. “Forgive me, but I cannot help. I’ve never heard of her.”
Calvin couldn’t believe she was lying to him. “I beg to differ. Not more than ten minutes ago, I heard your brother call you Dorothy, and the other woman called you Miss Paxton.”
Dorothy rolled her eyes. “Perhaps you heard wrong. After all, Paxton does rhyme with…um…a lot of words.”
“And I suppose Dorothy rhymes with a lot of words as well.”
“You are correct.” She folded her arms. “Besides, why are you looking for her?”
He couldn’t stop the smile pulling on his mouth, so he smoothed his mustache with his finger and thumb. “Why are you so interested in knowing if you don’t know this woman?”
She shrugged. “I’m curious. You’re the first person who has wandered into town looking for someone I have never heard of.”
“I plan on staying here until I find some answers, too. So perhaps you should get used to me.”
“Perhaps.” She arched an eyebrow. “What’s your name, stranger?”
He shook his head. “Hmm…I think that question is going to cost you.”
Her cheeks reddened and her gaze narrowed. He tried his best not to grin. Two could play her game.
“What is your price?” she finally asked.
Surprising, but the more he studied the woman’s face, the lovelier she became. Long, thick lashes outlined her striking blue eyes. And she had the prettiest shaped mouth he’d ever seen. One way or another, he had to earn her trust. He didn’t want to take her back to England fighting him the whole way. “I was thinking about dinner sometime.”
She chuckled. “Mister, I believe you can have dinner anytime you wish. All you have to do is order it, and I shall serve it promptly.”
He wanted to laugh, but refrained. What a refreshing sense of humor she had. He shook his head. “No, you misunderstand. I’d like to have dinner with you.”
She flipped her hand through the air. “That, you won’t ever get.”
He pulled away from the bar. “Then I suppose you don’t want to know my name badly enough, do you?”
Dorothy’s chest rose and fell from her deep breath. Silence stretched between them for several seconds before she blew out a gust of air between her lips. “Fine, I shall have dinner with you tonight. Now are you going to tell me your name, milord?”
Placing the hat on his head, he adjusted it low over his forehead and stood. “I am Mr. Calvin Seton. I am the third son of an earl, so you need not refer to me as my lord.”
“Are you indeed from England?”
“Yes. Surrey, to be exact.” He winked. “I trust you will be ready tonight by seven o’clock?”
She rolled her eyes. “If I must, I suppose I shall be ready by then.”
Although she tried to speak politely, Calvin heard the sarcasm in her speech. He gave her a grin, grabbed his hat and turned away, and left the inn.
Chapter Two
Numbness crawled over Dorothy, leaving her mind frozen with fear. There could only be one reason a man from England would come to New York to find her.
Grandfather—the dirty rotten bugger who had been ashamed that his son had sired an illegitimate daughter!
Mother had told her all about Lord George Whitley, whom she’d fallen hopelessly in love with. Lord George had been a sailor—a smuggler, to be precise. Dorothy’s mother had fallen in love fast, and from the way she told the story, Lord George had returned the feeling. Yet he had left on the next tide, not even leaving Dorothy’s pregnant mother a shilling to help bring Dorothy into the world.
Five years later, Dorothy’s mother tried to contact Lord George’s father, the Duke of Longdale, to see if the duke would spare some coins to help Dorothy through school. Longdale wouldn’t have anything to do with the rubbish schemers—as he’d referred to Dorothy and her mother. Old Dukie Longdale would rather not have his reputation soiled by owning up to his son
’s mistake.
In Dorothy’s twenty-two years, she had hoped to never see an uppity British man again, but her wishes went unheard when Calvin Seton entered her inn. She’d never come across a man like him. Not only was he a very handsome man with fine manners, but his smooth-as-silk British accent had her knees buckling a time or two. Serving the miscreants of New York didn’t give her many chances to meet gentlemen, and now she wished she’d never struck up a conversation with Calvin Seton.
The headstrong, stubborn part of her wanted to tell him to leave her sight and never return, but the lonely woman buried deep inside wanted to outfit herself in a gown, do her hair fancy, and strut around the streets of New York on his arm. And to be sure, that man had an arm worthy for a woman to hang on. His whole body fitted nicely in his clothes, and his shoulders…
Dorothy held in a dreamy sigh. It was a good thing the stubborn side of her would win this mental argument, and not let her daydreaming side take over. That man was probably just like Lord George. All he wanted from a working class woman was to have his wicked way with her.
That was definitely something Dorothy did not allow any man to do. She would only allow her future husband to touch her in any intimate way. Even though Mr. Seton had placed curious thoughts in her head of what it might feel like to be held and kissed by such a vigorous man, Dorothy was not going to repeat history! Her mother would be turning over in her grave if she knew Dorothy harbored such improper ideas about the man from England.
“Dorothy? Are you daydreaming again?”
The sound of her brother’s voice pulled her back to her surroundings. Blinking out of her thoughts, she turned toward her half-brother—the only real family she had left now. Although they each had different fathers, she and Jeremy looked enough alike to be twins. The only difference between them was their eye color—and years, of course. She offered a smile, forced as it was. “I’m not daydreaming.”
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