A Hoyden and an Heiress (Greenford Waters Book 4)

by Kristin Vayden

Lady Southridge grinned mischievously. “And, I’m quite proud of myself, even if I’m giving the accolades to my own person.”

  “And why is that?” Carlotta asked, placing her hand on her hip.

  “Because I helped this little situation along, and…” She flicked her wrist. “…the little party you had me create for next week now has a new purpose, since the fiend has been eliminated. It is now an engagement party.”

  “Rather, it’s a bloody wedding celebration. Damn it all, I hate it when you’re right, Diana.” The Duke of Clairmont strode into the room with a frustrated air.

  “Charles!” Carlotta scolded.

  “Oh?” Lady Southridge gave a knowing smile.

  But Berty’s attention was on Henry as he met her gaze with a warm and victorious grin.

  He mouthed, “I love you.”

  She flushed in response.

  “Dear Lord, I don’t know whether to be thankful that you’re all finally betrothed, or if I’m contemplating murder of this one for forcing my hand.” He cast a withering glare to Henry.

  “You’re thankful,” Berty answered.

  “I’m also annoyed. How in the devil did you know?” The duke gave the dowager a glare.

  Lady Southridge gave a delicate shrug. “It was time.”

  “A bloody special license,” the duke swore.

  “Pardon?” Carlotta asked.

  Berty watched as Henry came up beside her, meeting her gaze with an expression that bespoke of love, devotion, and joy.

  “Diana was so convinced that since I sent off Berty, she’d come back betrothed. I told her it was utter rot to think such things. But I purchased the damn thing to spite you, to prove you wrong, and here I’m the fool,” he grumbled, pointing a finger at his adoptive mother.

  Berty watched the exchange.

  “A special license?”

  “Yes, but we needn’t use it. It will surely cause talk.”

  “At last!” Berty grinned wildly, earning a perplexed expression from the duke and Carlotta and a rather amused one from Lady Southridge.

  Because she certainly knew.

  Because, well… it was exactly how Berty would react in a similar situation.

  “All my sisters have had the most dashing, gossip-worthy, whirlwind romances. It was difficult to imagine that mine would be any less.” She reached out and grasped Henry’s hand, earning an encouraging smile.

  “And now… now I quite think that my story is the best of all. And how could I do anything less than my sisters? Let them talk, let them whisper about the way Henry loves me, the way I love him. Let it be the on dit of the Season, for I cannot imagine a more perfect ending and beginning to this…” She glanced to him. “…to us.”

  “Er…” Carlotta lifted a hand. “…I’m not sure you truly want to deal with the gossip, love. It’s quite hurtful, and I don’t wish you to endure what others will do to bring you down.”

  Berty considered her words. “I do believe I approached that incorrectly.” She frowned then took a deep breath. “I made it sound as if I wanted people’s opinion. But that is not the case. I do not wish their good — or poor — opinion. Rather, I find that I care only that I have his good opinion.” She glanced to Henry.

  “Well…” Lady Southridge broke the silence. “…then I suppose we have the need of clergyman.”

  Carlotta chuckled, casting a knowing grin to the duke.

  “Damn and blast. I know of one.”

  “Ah-ha! You do! Do you think that vicar is still alive?” Lady Southridge asked.

  “I suppose I’m about to find out.” The Duke sighed heavily.

  Henry glanced to Berty in inquiry.

  Berty giggled. “You see, as much as my guardian surely scolded you for wishing to marry so quickly, he found himself in a less compromising, yet every bit as urgent situation when he married Her Grace.”

  “In our very chapel.” Carlotta smiled warmly.

  “Indeed. I was a flower girl,” Berty teased.

  “And the vicar?” Henry asked, his grin growing.

  “Was reluctant to wake so early and made my life hell till I said ‘I do,’” the duke grumbled. “It’s early enough. I’ll see if I can make arrangements.” He glanced to his wife and Lady Southridge. “You two, see that they are chaperoned at all times. Clearly they cannot be trusted alone.” He gave a meaningful glare to Henry before he quit the room.

  Shortly before noon, Berty slowly walked down the aisle of the GreenFord Waters’ Chapel. Henry waited beside a familiar and equally disgruntled vicar as her small family watched.

  And if the vicar had attempted to make the duke and Carlotta’s wedding as lengthy as possible, he was equally inclined to make Berty and Henry’s wedding as short as possible.

  So, with blessed haste, Berty took Henry’s name.

  And he sealed his honor upon her lips as the vicar pronounced them.

  When Berty finally came up for air from the ardent kiss, it was to find home in his eyes.

  To find adventure in his embrace.

  And discover that life wasn’t simply about what happened…

  It was about who it happened with.

  Life itself was quite a beautiful adventure, indeed.

  BERTY STIRRED HER tea, the air of expectation thick in the parlor as she sat with her two sisters and Carlotta.

  “So?” Beatrix asked, her similar brown gaze shrewdly evaluating her younger sister.

  “Are you?” Bethanny asked, her hand distractedly rubbing her swollen belly as she and Lord Graham expected another heir in the upcoming months.

  “Yes,” Berty answered, a deep blush of pleasure rushing through her.

  Beatrix squealed, her own hands rubbing her only slightly round belly as she rejoiced with her sister.

  “That was quite fast, I must say,” Bethanny added with a twinkle in her eye. “And I haven’t quite forgiven you for having the wedding without us in attendance.”

  A heated flush overtook her face. In her candid honesty, her sisters were fully aware that she and Henry had anticipated their vows, but since it was only by a day, no one could be certain if she had conceived before or after. They could only all be certain that she had, indeed, conceived.

  So when can we expect another niece or nephew?” Beatrix asked. “And I’m more inclined to forgive you since I’ve known Henry longer, and was quite delighted to see this rather impulsive side of him. You’re a good match.” She gave a sidelong glance to Bethanny, earning a narrowed gaze from her eldest sister.

  Berty glanced to Carlotta, who was simply holding her peace as she grinned knowingly. “I’d expect in about seven and half months. You’re not far along. And I, for one, am thankful that since you did marry rather abruptly, there won’t be further scandal when the little one makes his, or her, arrival.”

  Berty glowed with delight. It was quite candid to speak thus with her sisters, but they were family, and this was indeed something to celebrate. “The scandal wasn’t too large,” Berty added. “Anyone who knew me at all wasn’t truly surprised.”

  “I’d say they were more surprised that you married an unknown. While you were quite known for being a Hoyden—”

  “Beatrix!” Carlotta scolded.

  “It’s true.” Bethanny shrugged.

  “Be that as it may—“ Carlotta started, offering a motherly pat to Berty’s knee.

  “Can I finish?” Beatrix asked tartly, with a small knowing grin.

  Carlotta sighed. “Very well.”

  “You were known for being a hoyden, but you were more recognized for your fortune. It turned the ton on its ear when they learned that you married an untitled gentleman as a love match, especially after so many others were quite interested in securing your hand. It’s astoundingly romantic,” Beatrix finished, a gentle smile expressive in her brown eyes.

  To her sisters’ credit, as well their respective husbands’, they had all accepted Henry with open arms and knowing slaps on the back, Lord Neville, Beatrix’s husban
d, especially.

  “You know, I still hear Neville comment as to how he would have never guessed that you and Henry would have gotten along. He’s still sore that Lady Southridge contributed to the match, not he.”

  “It’s a wonder that he cares,” Berty teased.

  “He’s rather competitive, you know.”

  ”Indeed.” Bethanny winked. “Ask my husband. He lost at Whist to Neville just last week. I think he’s still crowing about it.”

  “He is, in fact.”

  “Graham is going to demand a rematch,” Bethanny remarked, concerning her husband.

  “You know what I think we need?” Carlotta set her tea down and waited till she had the full attention of the room.

  “What?” Berty asked, tilting her head.

  “A house party. At GreenFord Waters. We’ll invite Lady Southridge, and we shall make a delightful time of it, all of us.”

  “Yes!” Bethanny agreed. “It’s been ages since we’ve all been there together.”

  Beatrix frowned. “I do believe the last time we all were there was when Lord Graham proposed.”

  “You’re correct.” Carlotta nodded.

  “It’s long overdue,” Bethanny affirmed.

  “And to think we are returning to the place where it all began.” Berty met the gaze of each lady. “The place where you fell in love with the duke. “She nodded to Carlotta. “And where Lord Graham poured out his heart to you, Bethanny. And where Henry married me.”

  “You forgot about me!” Beatrix chimed in. “Rather, I was at Lady Southridge’s estate, but I have to find some sort of distinction.”

  “Of course, dear.” Carlotta patted her hand.

  “So, it’s decided?” Bethanny asked.

  “It is,” Berty answered.

  “And may our children enjoy the halls and grounds as much as we did as children. It has quite a legacy, you know,” Carlotta replied softly.

  “It does indeed,” Beatrix affirmed.

  “Yes. A legacy of love.”

  Berty couldn’t agree more.

  THE END

  Now enjoy a sample of the beginning of the series, “What the Duke Wants” by Kristin Vayden.

  GreenFord Waters Series

  Book ONE

  Chapter One

  Charles Evermore, Duke of Clairmont, glared at his solicitor, narrowing his eyes until he could no longer see the small-framed man before him. There had to be a mistake. There was no other explanation for the words coming from the man’s mouth.

  “Your grace, if you’ll simply read the documentation for yourself…” Mr. Burrows spoke with practiced patience.

  Charles stood and stalked around the desk, ripping the papers from his grasp. Mr. Burrows leaned back, folding his hands and watching Charles with unaffected impassivity. Not for the first time, Charles thought the man looked like a praying mantis, all long and lean with exceedingly large eyes and a patient demeanor that was all too deceptive.

  But he was the best solicitor available.

  He had better be for what Charles paid for his services.

  “If you’ll start on the second page…” Mr. Burrows suggested.

  Charles read the endless prattle of legal terms until his eyes focused on the chilling phrase.

  Wards.

  Three girls, to be exact. Ranging from ages seven to sixteen.

  And, as heaven stood by laughing, he was to be their guardian.

  Charles stared at the words, willing them to disappear. He hadn’t the time, the energy, or the inclination to take over the raising of three insufferable miniature females! He could hardly tolerate his mistresses, and they were full grown and low maintenance! He studied the rest of the document, searching for any other names that might take this plight away from him.

  “You’re likely curious as to why you were chosen,” Mr. Burrows suggested.

  “The question had crossed my mind.” Charles remarked sarcastically.

  Mr. Burrows wisely ignored the duke’s surly attitude. “It was a tragedy, to be sure. The poor girls lost both parents in a carriage accident—”

  “And there were no aunts or uncle to take them in?” Charles interrupted.

  Mr. Burrows simply blinked, raising his eyebrows slightly and waiting.

  “Carry on.” Charles waved his hand, somewhat chagrined at his idiotic question. After all, if there were a spinster aunt or bachelor uncle, hell, any relative at all, they wouldn’t be given to him as wards.

  “As I was saying…” Mr. Burrows shot Charles a pointed gaze. “The girls were left quite without any family. Only providence connected them with you, your grace. You see, they are actually your mother’s second cousins, God rest her soul.”

  “So I’m the urchins’ cousin? Bloody perfect.” Charles mumbled under his breath.

  “So it would seem.” Mr. Burrows stood, collecting the papers from Charles’s outstretched hand. “You’ll not need to worry about a dowry or any such things for the young ladies. Their parents left them quite a bit of wealth. However, I would suggest you begin a search for a proper governess.”

  “Bloody hell, another female in my house. Exactly what I need.”

  “Yes, well, that female might be your salvation in helping you train the children into young ladies. After all, they’ll need to someday make a match.”

  “That’s the only way I’m ever going to be rid of them, isn’t it?” Charles combed back his jet-black hair with his hand, feeling a miserable headache beginning at the base of his neck.

  “Perhaps.” Mr. Burrows nodded and turned away, but not before Charles saw the slightest hint of a grin. “The young ladies will arrive in a few days, I expect. If you need anything more, you know where to reach me. Good night, your grace.” Mr. Burrows paused at the door.

  “Good night, Mr. Burrows.”

  Charles strode over to the fire, studying the orange and red flames. Truly, this was the worst sort of news. At three and thirty, he wasn’t necessarily old, but he was quite accustomed and comfortable with his way of life. Oh, he knew eventually he’d have to suffer through a woman’s presence enough to marry her and produce an heir, but he still figured he had at least five years before that would be necessary.

  And to be sure, he was waiting until it was absolutely necessary.

  A few days, a mere forty-eight hours and his entire existence was going to be in upheaval. To think, only four hours ago he was looking forward to a cozy evening with Céline, the opera diva he had sequestered in a little townhouse not far away. Under the present circumstances, he no longer was looking forward to anything. Rather, he was quite content to stand before the fire and feel sorry for himself.

  Of course! He could take the girls to the country and leave them there with a governess.

  Why hadn’t he thought of it before? It was a stroke of brilliance. He needn’t have his life interrupted after all! Surely the young ladies wouldn’t want him around anyhow. Why, he’d only be in the way. A governess would be infinitely more suitable for them. He needn’t interfere!

  Suddenly the evening was brighter, even the fire cast a cheerier glow about the room. All he had to do was secure a governess. And that couldn’t be hard to do. He’d simply inquire about and interview prospective persons. Better yet, Mrs. Pott, the housekeeper, could interview. She’d be far more capable and wise in knowing what made a good governess.

  Charles congratulated himself on his brilliant plan and to celebrate, strode over to the liquor cabinet, and poured himself a glass of amber-colored brandy.

  “Cheers,” he murmured.

  Already those girls were as good as gone.

  ****

  Two Days Later, Near Bath.

  Mr. Burrows regarded his young client, impressed with the poise and grace in one so young. Why, she couldn’t be a day over eighteen. Miss Carlotta Standhope was uncommonly pretty, it was a shame that she’d not have a come out. The ton would have celebrated her golden hair and clear green eyes, but it was her character that made her
supremely appealing, he decided.

  It must have been a severe blow for her to discover the future she’d anticipated was no longer available to her. It was part of his business, delivery of unwelcome news. However the young woman was taking it all in with such grace and poise, it caused him to greatly respect the young woman. Pity pinched his heart. Unaccustomed to any emotional response when dealing with his clients, he fidgeted with his spectacles “I’m sure you’d like a moment…” He stood to leave, offering her a moment to gather herself in private.

  “No, please.” Her green eyes widened as she visibly swallowed. “I need to understand the full depth of my change in situation. Please…continue.” She took a deep breath as if fortifying herself.

  “Very well, Miss Standhope.” He nodded then resumed his seat. “As I know you’re aware, upon you parents passing several years ago, the substantial inheritance they left for you was primarily invested overseas, in the Caribbean. The interest from that investment has been what you’ve lived on these past years. I’m sorry to say that with the recent tropical cyclone, the investment in the Caribbean was a total loss.”

  “Total, as in I’m penniless, or total as in I’ll still have enough food to eat and won’t be turned out of my own home?” she asked her voice cracking.

  “Garden Gate is entailed, so you’ll not lose the manor or lands, but you’ll also not have any funds to maintain their upkeep.”

  “So, it’s as good as being completely penniless.”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

  “I see.” Her slight shoulders slumped as if carrying a burden too heavy to bear.

  “However, you could possibly lease the land and manor out, not requiring you to sell. That could produce some revenue.”

  “That could work. But what, then, of me? What am I to do?” Tears welled, glistening in her eyes and, though none fell, her green orbs took on the luminosity of glowing emeralds. Captivated by her vulnerable gaze, Mr. Burrows struggled to find some good news to give the poor young woman.

  “I’m not sure, Miss Standhope. Do you have relatives you can impose upon?”