“Marry me…
and you’ll have your freedom.”
Her father’s will dictates Violet Harper must wed or be disinherited—yet she’d rather face the wilderness of the wintry Yorkshire moors than be bound to cynical, damaged soldier Captain Lance Amberton. Lance promises a marriage of convenience that will grant Violet her independence. In exchange, she must put her faith in Lance and see beyond his gruff exterior to the man beneath...
“Fletcher has crafted a romance to engage medievalists.”
—RT Book Reviews on Besieged and Betrothed
“Medieval fans will love the pageantry, the original setting and the surprises at every turn.”
—RT Book Reviews on Married to Her Enemy
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, too, Miss Harper.”
Violet felt a shiver run the full length of her body. How could a man who’d seemed so warmly charming the first time they’d met now be so glacially chilling?
He lifted an eyebrow, though if he was remotely concerned by her lack of response, he didn’t show it.
“Your father’s will made me responsible for you,” Lance said.
“I can take care of myself!”
“Really?” His eyebrow lifted again. “Have you ever done so before?”
“No.” Violet stiffened at the insinuation. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t.”
“True, though apparently your father thought otherwise. He made me your protector.”
“He meant your brother, not you!”
Amber eyes blazed with some powerful emotion, quickly repressed. “Nonetheless, it’s me you’ve got. Your father wanted an Amberton to look after you, and I appear to be the only one left.”
Author Note
This story is set in one of my favorite places, the heritage coastline and moorland around the ancient port of Whitby in North Yorkshire. Since Dracula got there first, I deliberately avoided anything gothic-related in the first book of this series, The Convenient Felstone Marriage, but this time I wanted to evoke the wilder atmosphere of the surrounding landscape, the rugged heathland and windswept moors that remind me of why I fell in love with Victorian literature in the first place. This was also largely thanks to the copy of Jane Eyre my mother gave me, which I read on a visit to my grandparents, twenty-five years ago. It was the first “grown-up” book I ever read and is still my favorite. In my mind, Yorkshire, romance and a gothic landscape will be forever entwined.
JENNI FLETCHER
Captain Amberton’s Inherited Bride
Jenni Fletcher was born in the north of Scotland and now lives in Yorkshire with her husband and two children. She wanted to be a writer as a child but became distracted by reading instead, finally getting past her first paragraph thirty years later. She’s had more jobs than she can remember but has finally found one she loves. She can be contacted on Twitter, @jenniauthor, or via her Facebook author page.
Also by Jenni Fletcher
Harlequin Historical
Married to Her Enemy
The Convenient Felstone Marriage
Besieged and Betrothed
Captain Amberton’s Inherited Bride
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Contents
Prologue
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
Epilogue
Excerpt from From Courtesan to Convenient Wife by Marguerite Kaye
Excerpt from His Wicked Charm by Candace Camp
Prologue
Amberton Castle, North Yorkshire—1862
‘There’s no way out, Lance. I’m trapped.’
Captain Lancelot ‘Lance’ Amberton turned his attention away from a particularly attractive redhead on the dance floor and fixed his twin brother with a speculative stare. From the tone of his voice it was obvious he wasn’t talking about the ballroom. He’d listened to Arthur’s railing against their father’s domineering behaviour a hundred times before, but the new note of despondency was unsettling enough that he almost missed the footman passing by with a fresh tray of drinks. Almost.
‘It’s your own fault.’ He darted a hand out, swiping the tumbler of brandy he knew was destined for their father. ‘You shouldn’t be so damned responsible all of the time. Do something shocking. Try saying no to him once in a while.’
‘Easier said than done.’ Arthur’s eyes, the same rich amber shade as his own, looked woebegone. ‘It’s not as if we can both run away and join the army.’
‘I had to run away.’ Lance tossed back a lock of dark chestnut hair. ‘He would have thrown me out if I hadn’t.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘It is and you know it. Father and I have done nothing but argue ever since Mother died. We get on far better at opposite ends of the country.’
‘I just wish you’d told me what you were planning.’
‘So you could have done the right thing and told him?’
Arthur dropped his eyes guiltily. ‘He would have bought you a commission if you’d asked.’
‘That’s not the point. I didn’t want to owe him anything. I had the money Mother left us and I wanted to choose my own regiment. Father would have kept me in the local militia just to keep an eye on me.’
‘He’s still glad to have you back here tonight.’
‘So he can show off his ne’er-do-well son in uniform, you mean?’
Lance threw a scornful glance around the ballroom. As pleased as he was to see Arthur again, his family home held little appeal any more. After just two days’ leave, he was already itching to get back to his regiment. There were rumours that they were about to be posted abroad and he couldn’t wait to put Yorkshire behind him.
‘Don’t put yourself down.’ Arthur gave him a sympathetic look. ‘You’re a captain in the Fusiliers at twenty-two and doing pretty well by all accounts. That’s something to be proud of.’
‘I’m glad someone in the family’s noticed.’
‘He’s noticed. He’s proud of you, too, in his way.’
Lance gave a snort of derision. ‘That makes a change. It’s just a good thing I’m rejoining my regiment next week or we’d be back at each other’s throats—and this time I’m armed.’
‘Well, I’ve missed you these past six months. I’ve even missed the arguing. His lectures have got ten times worse since you left. He talks about duty and responsibility from the moment I get up until the moment I go to bed, which is early to escape. He tells me where to go, what to wear, who to talk to, even what to say. It’s exhausting.’
‘I’ve noticed.’
‘I don’t know how much longer I can stand it. I wish I had your stami
na for fighting, but I don’t. I’m just...tired.’
Lance took another swig of brandy, trying to think of something reassuring to say and failing. Arthur had always been the thinker, the rational, peaceful son, whereas he... He was too much like their father, attacking first and asking questions later. All he knew was how to fight.
‘Well, don’t let it bother you tonight.’ He clapped a hand on Arthur’s shoulder in an attempt to lighten the mood. ‘There’s enough pretty girls here to entertain both of us. Let’s have some fun.’
‘Father doesn’t approve of fun, you ought to know that by now, and I don’t want to hear another rant about how not to behave.’
‘That’s easy. Just watch me.’
‘What did you think I meant?’ Arthur threw him a look that was part reproof, part appeal. ‘Just don’t do anything scandalous like at the Kendalls’ last year. He’ll never forgive you if you ruin his ball.’
‘I’ve no intention of ruining anything. And as for the scandal, as you call it, I barely touched Olivia Kendall. No more than she wanted me to anyway.’
‘She was engaged! If it had been anyone but me who’d found you on the terrace...’
‘Who ruined my evening, you mean?’
‘That, too, but just try behaving for once, Lance, please. As much as I’d like for you to distract Father’s attention, I’ve got enough to deal with this evening.’
‘It’s only a ball, Arthur.’
‘It’s not only a ball.’ Arthur sighed heavily. ‘Haven’t you wondered why Father decided to throw such a big event all of a sudden?’
‘No.’ Though come to think of it, it was odd, especially considering the parlous state of the estate’s finances. The oak-panelled ballroom was usually opened up only once a year, for the spring ball their father considered his social duty, but tonight he seemed in uncharacteristically lavish mood. The room had rarely looked so splendid, with white and red bouquets of cut flowers adorning every available surface and a floor so highly polished it resembled glass, glittering with the light of a hundred candles suspended in crystal chandeliers above.
‘Well, I did. I thought he was planning something, but I never expected...’ Arthur drew in a deep breath. ‘Look, I’m not supposed to tell you, but Father called me to his study this afternoon. He wants me to marry Jeremy Harper’s daughter.’
‘Harper the shipbuilder?’ Lance almost spat out his mouthful of brandy. ‘That miserable old curmudgeon? Since when does he have a daughter?’
‘Since she was born eighteen years ago.’
‘I didn’t even know he was married.’
‘He’s not. His wife died a few years before Mother. Don’t you pay attention to anything?’
‘Not things like that, no.’
‘Lance...’
‘Oh, don’t look at me like that. You know I prefer to swim in the shallows.’
‘No, you like to swim out of your depth and not think about it.’
‘What’s the difference?’
Arthur shook his head remonstratively. ‘The difference is that one day you might want to stand up in the water and not be able to. You ought to look under the surface once in a while.’
‘Duly noted. I’ll read the obituaries tomorrow.’
‘That’s not what I meant.’
‘I know, but it’s the best I can do.’ Lance tossed back the last of his brandy and deposited the glass on a passing tray. ‘So what’s she like, your new bride?’
‘Her name’s Violet and she’s not my bride, not yet anyway. I’ve no idea what she looks like, never mind the rest, and nobody else seems to know either. Harper’s kept her locked away in that redbrick mausoleum he calls a house her whole life. So far as I know this is the first time she’s been out in society.’
‘Well, if she’s anything like Harper...’ Lance started to laugh and then stopped himself. ‘Sorry. But at least you know she’ll be obedient. She couldn’t not be, growing up with him. That can’t have been easy.’
‘True,’ Arthur conceded. ‘I’ve never understood how Father could be friends with that old tyrant.’
‘Something to do with money, I expect. She’ll be as rich as Croesus some day. But you know if you’re supposed to be meeting your prospective bride, you ought to take your eyes off Lydia Webster. You’ve been acting like a lovesick puppy all evening.’
‘Is it that obvious?’ Arthur’s cheekbones suffused with colour.
‘Only to me and everyone else in the room.’
‘I can’t help it, Lance. She’s the most exquisite creature I’ve ever laid eyes on. I’m in love.’
‘With Lydia Webster?’ Lance took a second glance across the ballroom to make sure they were talking about the same woman. ‘She’s a flirt and a gold-digger, and a pretty shameless one, too. She’d throw you over the moment she found out about our family finances, or lack of them, I should say. Better take your chances with Miss Harper.’
‘Don’t!’ Arthur’s face displayed a rare flash of temper. ‘Don’t speak of her like that.’
‘I’m only trying to stop you making a mistake.’
‘No, you’re treating me the same way Father does, as if I can’t think for myself. Well, I can and I ought to be allowed to choose my own bride.’
‘You’re right, you should. So tell Father that. Refuse to marry Miss Harper.’
Arthur’s expression turned sullen. ‘I don’t hear you saying no to a woman very often.’
‘I don’t need to. I’m not the heir. No one wants to ensnare the feckless younger brother.’
Not that it stopped them wanting to do other things, he thought cynically... Cordelia Braithwaite for one had been throwing beckoning glances in his direction all evening, ever since her husband had abandoned her for the card room. Not to mention the pretty, and currently partnerless, redhead. Even if he had just promised to behave, some opportunities were too good to miss. As soon as he finished consoling his brother, he’d start taking advantage of them.
‘Only younger by ten minutes.’ Arthur sounded bitter. ‘Sometimes I wish we could just change places. Then you could tell Father for me.’
‘Wouldn’t work, I’m afraid. I’d never be able to look as responsible or intelligent as you. Ten minutes makes all the difference, apparently.’
‘Then maybe you’re right.’ Arthur’s dolorous tone shifted suddenly. ‘Maybe it is time I stood up to him.’
‘That’s the spirit.’
‘I just need to be blunt.’
‘Absolutely.’
‘I’ll tell him I have my own plans.’
‘Exactly.’
‘I’ll say... Wait!’ Arthur’s hand shot out and gripped his shoulder. ‘There she is.’
‘Who?’
‘Violet Harper!’
Lance turned casually towards the doorway, though it took him a few moments to actually locate the subject of their conversation. Standing between their two fathers, she was the tiniest, most unusual-looking woman he’d ever seen, nothing at all like he would have expected, an innocent daisy between two bristly thistles. Dressed all in white, she looked more like a fairy-tale creature than a woman, seeming to give off an almost translucent glow in the candlelight. Even her hair was pale, a shade of shimmering, silvery blonde that fell in a perfectly straight line to her waist. It gave her an oddly top-heavy appearance, though the top of her head barely skimmed the shoulders of their father, whose six-foot frame both he and Arthur had inherited. How would one kiss such a woman without getting backache, he wondered, not to mention other things? Not that he’d shirk such a challenge...
‘It could be worse.’ He nudged Arthur none too subtly in the ribs.
‘What, your behaviour?’
‘Very funny. I mean Father’s choice of bride. She looks like a kitten.’ He grinned. ‘I want to pat her on the head.’
‘You marry her, then.’
‘Shall we go and suggest it? I’d like to see Father’s face if we did. Harper’s, too. They’d both have apoplexies on the spot.’
‘Maybe we ought to suggest it, then.’
‘She’s pretty.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘Unusual. I like unusual.’
‘You would. Have you ever met a woman you didn’t like?’
Lance shrugged, unabashed. It was true, he wasn’t biased towards any one type of woman. He liked variety—the more of it the better—though there was something particularly intriguing about Miss Harper, something that piqued his interest more than he would have expected. He let his gaze roam over her face and figure appreciatively. Her tiny size and distinctive colouring made her appear strangely ethereal, as if she were in the room and yet apart from it somehow. He couldn’t think of another way to explain it, but the duality only increased her appeal.
The longer he looked, the more he noticed other contradictions about her. Pint-sized though she was, her hips and breasts were disproportionately wide and generous, quite distractingly so, in fact. Her facial features were large, too, her eyes in particular seeming to take up half of her face, their intense blueness striking even from a distance. And as for her lips—he found himself running his tongue along his own instinctively—surely they were the most sensuous-looking pair he’d ever laid eyes on. Plump and voluptuous, like a bow he wanted to pluck on.
He took a flute of champagne from a passing footman and gulped it down quickly, taken aback by the strength of his attraction to her. If it hadn’t been for the obligation of marriage, he might have felt jealous of his own brother.
‘I wonder what she thinks about marrying you.’ He dragged his gaze away finally.
‘She doesn’t know anything about it.’
‘What?’
Arthur turned his back pointedly towards the doorway. ‘The whole thing’s bizarre, but Father and Harper have already drawn up papers. According to their agreement, I’m only to marry her after Harper dies. He married late, so who knows how old he is now. We’re engaged, but she’s not to be told anything until after the funeral. Then we get married, I get his fortune and she gets a title.’
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