by Anne Herries
Susannah could not help wishing that she and Harry might have had a little time together before all his relatives arrived.
She was trying to accustom herself to the idea that she was engaged to a man she loved—a man she was not sure felt quite the same about her. She knew that Harry felt something for her, but most marriages were arranged for reasons other than love, and she could not yet be certain that she was loved as she would wish to be—to distraction.
A Country Miss in Hanover Square
Harlequin® Historical
Author Note
Writing for Harlequin is a constant joy. A Season in Town, Book One, is about Susannah and Lord Pendleton. Susannah never expected to have a season because her mama could not afford it. However, Amelia Royston has inherited a fortune, and she wants to spend some of it on young women in less happy circumstances than herself. Susannah is flattered by the attentions of the dashing Lord Pendleton, but overawed by the prospect of becoming the wife of such an important man.
Beneath the story runs a thread of intrigue that continues throughout all three books in this trilogy and may threaten Amelia herself. Look out for Harry and his friends in the next two.
This book is dedicated to
the memory of my mother, who once told me
my books would be enjoyed by hundreds of thousands
of people worldwide. I laughed, Mum, but you were right!
A Country Miss in Hanover Square
ANNE HERRIES
A Season in Town
a new Regency miniseries from Anne Herries
Look for
A Country Miss in Hanover Square
An Innocent Debutante in Hanover Square
The Mistress of Hanover Square
Available from Harlequin® Historical and
ANNE HERRIES
*A Knight of Honor #184
*Her Knight Protector #188
**Lady in Waiting #202
**The Adventurer’s Wife #208
††Forbidden Lady #209
†An Improper Companion #227
††The Lord’s Forced Bride #231
†A Wealthy Widow #235
†A Worthy Gentleman #243
††Her Dark and Dangerous Lord #249
‡Marianne and the Marquis #258
‡Married by Christmas #261
‡Marrying Captain Jack #265
The Unknown Heir #269
Ransom Bride #276
††Fugitive Countess #279
Bought for the Harem #285
The Homeless Heiress #292
Secret Heiress #297
Bartered Bride #303
‡‡A Country Miss in Hanover Square #312
Did you know some of these titles are also available
as ebooks? Visit www.Harlequin.com
Award-winning author Anne Herries lives in Cambridgeshire, England. She is fond of watching wildlife, and spoils the birds and squirrels that are frequent visitors to her garden. Anne loves to write about the beauty of nature, and sometimes puts a little into her books—although they are mostly about love and romance. She writes for her own enjoyment, and to give pleasure to her readers. She invites readers to contact her on her website at www.lindasole.co.uk.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Prologue
The Spanish Peninsula—1812
Three men lay slumped on the earth, which had been baked hard by the fierce Spanish sun. Harry Pendleton had his back against a rock. Of the three he was in the best shape. Max Coleridge was lying with his eyes closed, his blood-soaked shirt stuck to his chest in this damned awful heat. Gerard Ravenshead was fanning Max with a large leaf, trying to keep the flies from settling on his wound. A neck cloth was wound around a deep cut at the side of Gerard’s head.
‘I thought we were done for,’ Harry said. He was speaking his thoughts aloud, saying what they all felt. ‘What a mess!’
‘You can’t blame yourself for it, Harry,’ Gerard said and looked at him. ‘They knew we were coming. Someone must have warned them.’
‘Ten killed, and the three of us only got out by the skin of our teeth.’ Harry stood up and walked over to take a look at Max. ‘Some how they must have got wind that we planned a surprise raid to take prisoners…’
‘One of the servants,’ Gerard replied and shrugged. ‘In this damned war I’m never sure whether we are fighting the French with the Spanish or the Spanish and the French.’
‘I wouldn’t trust their generals as far as I could throw them,’ Harry growled. He looked at the blood trick ling down Gerard’s face. They had wrapped a kerchief round his head, but it wasn’t doing much good. ‘Your wound is still bleeding. Do you want me to take another look at it?’
‘You saved my life once today,’ Gerard said and grinned at him. ‘You don’t have to nursemaid me, Harry. I’ll manage. We have to get Max back to the village, and by the looks of him that means carrying him between us.’
Harry pulled a wry face. ‘The way you’ve been behaving out here, I’ve some times felt as if you meant to throw your life away…’ Gerard had gained a reputation as some thing of a daredevil.
‘There were moments when I didn’t much care if I died,’ Gerard admitted. He took a swipe at a fly buzzing about his face. ‘But when you’re facing death things come into perspective. I intend to live and return home and one day….’
Gerard left the sentence unfinished. Harry nodded. He knew some thing had been eating at his friend. He suspected it was to do with a young woman Gerard had been courting—and the tiny scar at his temple that he’d noticed when they first met in Spain after a year of not seeing one another. Gerard often rubbed at it when he was thoughtful, and the look in his eyes told Harry he was remembering some thing that made him angry.
‘I know what you mean,’ Harry said. ‘Soldiering is blood, sweat and tears—and that is the easy part.’ It was listening to the screams of dying men and knowing you couldn’t save them that hurt the worst. ‘Come on, then. Help me get Max on my back and I’ll carry him.’
‘I can walk…’ Max mumbled. ‘Just give me a hand up….’
‘Don’t be a damned fool,’ Harry replied. ‘You’ll be carried as far as we can make it. When we get near the village, Gerard will fetch help.’
‘I could walk with help.’ Max’s face set stubbornly as he at tempted to rise. ‘Damn you, Harry. I’m not a baby….’
‘But I’m the superior officer here, so you will do as you’re told,’ Harry muttered. He grinned at Gerard. ‘There’s one thing, we’re bound for life by this day’s experience. It’s some thing none of us will forget—and if any one of us can help the other in future, we will….’
Max grunted as they hauled him to his feet, and Harry took him over his shoulder. Gerard nodded, his eyes hard but appreciative of his friend’s stubborn determination to take on the burden. He wasn’t sure he could have done it himself, though he would have tried.
‘Comrades in war and peace,’ he said. ‘Let’s get back. My head is fit to burst and Max needs attention….’
Chapter One
England—1816
Harry Pendleton saw the girl run across the narrow country road seconds before he pulled on the reins, bringing his horses to an abrupt halt. Jangling harness, the sound of snorting horses and the curses of his groom took Harry’s attention for a moment as he fought to control the startled beasts. They were not u
sed to being so roughly used! Harry cursed loudly. Another second and he would have knocked the girl down! His heart had been in his mouth for an instant—and it had done his horses little good to have their mouths sawed at in that way!
‘What on earth do you think you were doing?’ he thundered, tossing the reins to his groom and jumping down to confront her. He hardly noticed her pale face or trembling hands. ‘That was a damned stupid thing to do! I could have killed you!’
‘Had you not been driving so carelessly, it would not have happened,’ the girl retorted, eyes flashing. She tossed her long hair, giving him a look filled with contempt. ‘These country roads are not made for such haste, sir. I had no idea that you would suddenly come round that corner like a bat driven out of hell….’
‘You must have heard the sound of my wheels,’ Harry retorted, though he knew that she had some right on her side. ‘What on earth possessed you to dash across the road in that way?’
‘I saw some prim roses I wanted,’ the girl replied. ‘This is a quiet road, sir. No one ever drives the way you were driving.’
‘Possibly because they are none of them able,’ Harry retorted. Even as he spoke he realised that he sounded petulant and arrogant, which was far from his nature. ‘You should be more careful when crossing the road near bends in the road, miss…’ Harry belatedly became aware that she was rather lovely. Her hair had been tossed by the wind and looked like spun gold, and her eyes were so clear that a man might drown in them. He found himself staring like an idiot. ‘Forgive me, I do not know your name.’
‘Nor shall you,’ the girl replied, giving him a haughty stare. ‘Sir, I find you arrogant and rude and I shall say good day to you.’
Stunned, Harry watched as she ran from him, scrambled over a stile at the side of the road and set off swiftly across the fields. He came to himself in that instant, realising that he had handled the situation badly.
‘I am sorry…’ he called after her. ‘I was anxious because I might have killed you. I did not mean to be so harsh.’
The girl did not falter or look back. Harry continued to watch her for a few moments, then he shook his head and climbed back to the driving box. His damnable temper had let him down. It was not often he lost it, but for some reason he had done so this morning. Instead of shouting at her, he should have made sure that she was none the worse for her fright. For a moment he was tempted to go after her, but he was in a hurry; he had promised to meet his friends at a mill held locally at a certain time and was already late. He frowned as he began to drive at a slightly more sedate pace. It was obvious the girl was unharmed, but he had not made the proper enquiries. He ought at least to have asked if she needed his assistance, though it was self-evident that she did not.
A little smile touched his mouth. She had answered him with spirit. Clearly she had not suffered an irritation of the nerves, as most of the young ladies in town might have, had they been subject to such a display of bad manners from a man who was generally considered to be one of the politest men in society. However, from the look of her clothes and the way she had been roaming the country side without a hat or a com pan ion, she was just a country girl—possibly the daughter of the local vicar. It was unlikely he would ever see her again, and, while he felt a certain regret, the incident was soon pushed to a distant corner of his mind.
Susannah stopped running when she was out of breath. What a bad-tempered man the driver of that phaeton had been! Had he been a little more considerate, a little caring in his manner, she would have apologised, for she knew herself to be partly at fault. However, he had come round the bend at such a pace that it was a wonder he had managed to stop at all. She was fortunate that she had not been trampled beneath his horses’ hooves. If she had not felt so startled, she might have admired the way he handled his horses, which were clearly high spirited. However, the way he had shouted at her had put all thought of apology from her mind.
Frowning, Susannah sat down on a fallen log to recover her composure before going home. As her nerves ceased tingling, she suddenly saw the amusing side of the affair and laughed. It had been quite an adventure, and she had often longed for some thing of the sort. However, in her dreams the gentleman would smile and speak softly, making her heart beat faster. Her heart had indeed slammed against her chest, but from fright rather than pleasure. Now that she had begun to feel calmer, she remembered that he had been rather handsome—if you liked arrogant, rude men! She tossed her head and put the incident from her mind as she approached the cottage they had taken after poor Papa died. She must hurry; she had been out a long time and her mama would be looking for her.
Susannah walked into the cottage, carrying a basket of herbs and wildflowers she had picked in the hedgerow. Her fine gold hair had blown all over the place and her cheeks were pink from the fresh air. She looked beautiful, if untidy, and not quite the proper young lady. Her looks were misleading—she had been taught her manners and was in truth a well-behaved girl, though spirited and inclined to be reckless at times. She took her precious finds into the large kitchen, setting them down on the scrubbed pine table. The smell of baking was everywhere, tantalising and tempting. She felt hungry, her mouth watering at the thought of such a treat. Her hand was reaching towards a plate of cakes that were still cooling when Maisie walked in. Maisie had once been her nurse, and now she kept house for Mrs Hampton, turning her hand to anything that needed doing, because they could no longer afford the luxury of servants.
‘Now then, Miss Susannah,’ the woman grumbled. ‘You leave them cakes alone. Your mama has the Vicar and some friends coming for tea this afternoon, and I’ve used the last of the butter. At least there’s none to spare for more baking.’
‘Can’t I have just one?’ Susannah pleaded, her stomach rumbling with hunger. ‘I haven’t eaten since first thing this morning.’
‘You should have been here for your luncheon instead of wandering about the country side like a hoyden.’ Maisie looked at her with disapproval, which masked the deep affection between them. ‘Go and change your gown before anyone sees you. It will be time for tea in an hour or so. You can wait until then.’
‘I’m hungry now,’ Susannah said and snatched a warm and chewy oat biscuit, fleeing from the kitchen with Maisie’s scolding ringing in her ears.
She sighed as she went upstairs to change out of the old gown she had worn for her walk. She had managed to get grass stains on the hem again, and there was a small rent where she had caught it on some briars, so it was a good thing she had chosen this gown. It was important to conserve her best things for special occasions these days. They had just enough money to live on and pay Maisie her meagre wage, but Susannah had no idea what they would do when they needed new clothes.
Everything had changed after her father died, for he had lost his estate by making unwise investments and at the gaming tables. Mama had a little money of her own, which she had inherited from her father, but the income was scarcely enough to keep them.
‘I do not know what to do, Susannah,’ her mother had told her when they moved from their comfortable house to this modest cottage. It had seemed bare and poor compared to the comfortable house they had been forced to leave, but somehow they had managed to turn it into a home. ‘If I release what little capital I have, we could afford a Season in town for you, but then we should have nothing left.’
‘And if I did not take, you would have given up your living for nothing,’ Susannah said. She was a good-natured girl and had accepted their downfall into poverty with good grace. ‘No, Mama. We shall manage as best we can. Perhaps I shall meet someone—a prince!—who will love me for myself and carry me off to his castle. I shall have jewels and beautiful clothes, and you will never have to worry again.’ Her smile was unconsciously wistful.
Mrs Hampton shook her head sadly at her daughter’s flight of fancy. ‘You are very pretty, my darling, but things do not often hap pen that way. I dare say someone will offer for you, but he may not be to your liking.’<
br />
‘You are thinking of Squire Horton, I suppose.’ Susannah pulled a face, for the Squire was past forty, a generous kind gentleman, who had buried two wives and had a brood of boisterous children. She appreciated his qualities, but found him rather large and a little too dull for her quick mind.
She flicked her long, honey-coloured hair back out of her eyes. It was always escaping from its ribbons and curling in tendrils about her face. She presented a charming picture, for she was truly beautiful, but she seldom considered her looks, though she knew she was pretty because everyone told her so. However, it had not turned her head, and she was generally popular with both the gentlemen and the ladies she met. Unfortunately, situated as they were, she met very few gentlemen that either she or her mama considered a suitable match. ‘Well, if nothing else turns up, I may be forced to such a marriage, Mama—but it is not yet too late for some thing exciting to happen.’
Susannah lived in the expectation of some thing exciting happening. She would meet a handsome man, not necessarily a prince, of course, but rich enough to keep both her and Mama in comfort. He would sweep her up on his horse and ride off with her to Gretna Green, where they would be married and live happily ever after, preferably in an ancient castle. Failing that, perhaps a relative they had never heard of would leave them a fortune. Mama said they had no rich relatives, but perhaps there was someone somewhere who might be kind to them.
Her biscuit finished, Susannah applied her mind to the little tea party her mother had planned for friends. She changed her old gown for a favourite primrose-silk afternoon dress and brushed her hair into order, tying it back with white ribbons. A white stole draped over her arms and she was instantly transformed from the hoyden, who had been traipsing the fields to find herbs her mama might use to make lotions and seasonings, into a young lady of some considerable style and beauty.
