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Winter Collection
Spring Vacation Collection
Summer Wedding Collection
Autumn Collection
European Collection
Love Letter Collection
Old West Collection
Summer in New York Collection
Silver Bells Collection
All Regency Collection
Annette Lyon Collection
Under the Mistletoe Collection
Mail Order Bride Collection
Road Trip Collection
Seeking Persephone
Courting Miss Lancaster
The Kiss of a Stranger
Friends and Foes
An Unlikely Match
Drops of Gold
Glimmer of Hope
As You Are
Longing for Home
Hope Springs
For Elise
A Friend Indeed
A Happy Beginning
The Road to Cavan Town
(Originally published in the Winter Collection)
A Christmas Promise
(Originally published in the Silver Bells Collection)
Dream of a Glorious Season
(Originally published in the All Regency Collection)
A Lesson in Love
(Originally published in the European Collection)
About Sarah M. Eden
Chapter One
Gloucestershire, England, September 1808
Poverty had prevented Caroline Downy from spending the Season in London. Her innate good sense had prevented her from crying about it. She was betrothed, after all, which bordered on the absolutely miraculous for a young lady without a dowry and nothing but her family’s respectable standing to recommend her.
The match was an arranged one, which took all of the heart-pounding excitement out of the experience. A lady wished to be loved rather than settled for. She wasn’t marrying a complete stranger, something for which she was unspeakably grateful. George Barrington and her brother Thomas had been the very best of friends since their days at Eton. George had spent most of his school holidays at Downy House, in fact. Caroline knew him and liked him very much. She simply didn’t love him, and he didn’t love her. Feeling true enthusiasm for such a loveless arrangement was difficult, to say the least.
“Is that what you intend to wear?” Mother eyed Caroline from across the sitting room. “You present a rather uninspiring picture, my dear.”
The observation was not made in a spirit of criticism but of concern.
“I would love to don a new dress and slippers for the arrival of my intended, Mother, but I haven’t had either in years. This is the best I was able to manage.”
“Oh, Caroline.” Mother sat next to her on the sofa and took her hands. “I loathe the necessity of this. A girl ought to be courted and treasured, not auctioned off.”
“Was I actually auctioned off?” She sincerely hoped the arrangements had been undertaken in a less humiliating manner.
“Well, no, but this is hardly better. George is the very best sort of gentleman, but he wasn’t of your choosing.” Mother’s eyes took on a far-off and weary expression. “I wanted so much more for you.”
“And I expected so much worse.” She squeezed her mother’s hands. “Our financial situation has never been a secret. I have known for as long as I can remember that my chances of marrying were slim, and that, if I did somehow manage the thing, I would likely find myself attached to a cold and heartless man. George is a decided step above such a possibility.”
Mother nodded, though her agreement was clearly hesitant. “We haven’t seen him in more than a year. There is every possibility that he has undergone a fundamental change.”
“Let us choose to be optimistic.” As difficult as that choice sometimes was.
Over the course of her twenty years, she had resigned herself to never being truly loved by her future husband, had even convinced herself that she could find satisfaction in simply being treated with kindness and respect. But in the month since word had arrived that George Barrington was her intended, she’d struggled to feel content with what she’d always expected. Indifference from a stranger could be endured. Disinterest from a gentleman she counted as a dear friend would, she felt certain, weigh down her soul one indifferent glance, one dismissive gesture at a time, until the burden simply crushed her.
“It’s deucedly good of you to do this, George, but marrying a chap’s sister to save his family from destitution is taking friendship a touch too far.”
George reined in his mount. This misunderstanding needed to be cleared up before Thomas convinced Caroline that George was simply doing them all a favor. “For the last time, Tom, I didn’t ask for your sister’s hand as a favor to you.”
Tom looked at him as though he were a loon. “But with the depth of your coffers, you could marry anyone you wished.”
“And I am marrying exactly whom I wish.” George speared him with a look. “So you can simply clear your brainbox of the absurd notion that my actions are the result of pity or charity or anything of that sort.”
They both dismounted and handed their reins to waiting grooms before making their way up to the house. Some of George’s happiest memories were connected with Downy House. For George’s entire childhood, his own father worked on amassing his fortune, while George’s mother had relentlessly pursued the elusive standing in Society she coveted. Only at Downy House had George not felt alone.
The early years of happy camaraderie with Tom and his brother, Edward, had paled in later years compared to Caroline’s companionship. They’d not been in one another’s company as often as he and the male members of her family had. Nevertheless, she, and she alone, was the reason he continued to return after his years at Oxford and despite having a country home of his own. She was the part of Downy House he’d missed most acutely over the past fourteen months.
“But why, Caro?” Tom had harped on this same topic for weeks, ever since he’d heard of the betrothal. “She’s not what most would consider a beauty.”
“The assessment of a brother,” George replied. “Your sister happens to be a very lovely and fine-looking lady. More importantly, she is intelligent, possesses a witty sense of humor, is accomplished, an excellent conversationalist—”
“Enough.” Tom held up his hands in surrender. “If you promise to quit making my bumbling baby sister sound like the Toast of the Town, I’ll promise to stop quizzing you about your choice of fiancées.”
“I will accept that offer, my friend.”
They even shook on it. George’s past had been far from picturesque, but his future looked brighter. Mr. Downy had accepted his offer. Edward, the oldest brother, had seemed enthusiastic at the prospec
t of the match. Tom didn’t mean to make things awkward. And Caroline— his darling, beloved Caroline— had agreed to the match.
His future was bright, indeed.
Chapter Two
George and Tom were late.
Mother again wore her all-too-familiar expression of pitying sadness. “I do wish we had arranged for you to have a new dress. George spends the Season in Town, and you must surely seem a dowd when compared with the well-to-do young ladies he interacts with there.”
That was not a very comforting comparison. “Fortunately for me, George already knows our financial situation.” Heat stained her cheek at just how aware he must have been of every aspect of their lives. “My thrice-mended sleeves and threadbare hem will come as no surprise.”
“I suppose not.” Mother fretted with the fringe of her shawl. “It is not as though he hasn’t seen you in outmoded dresses and such all of your life.”
Mother was not helping in the least. She made Caroline sound like the absolute worst marriage prospect imaginable.
“How did the arrangement come about?” Until now, Caroline hadn’t yet had the courage to ask, not truly wanting to hear the answer. She felt, however, it would be best to know all she could before George arrived. “Did he ask Father, or did Father make the proposition to him?”
“I don’t rightly know.” Mother ran her fingers over the keys of the pianoforte as she passed. “The entire thing was arranged in London. At their club, I believe.”
At their club? “Meaning, of course, they were likely drunk as wheelbarrows when the agreement was reached.” Wasn’t that terribly fitting?
“Do not use such an undignified expression, Caroline,” Mother scolded.
“My apologies.”
Before the silence grew overly long, Mother spoke again. “Between the two of us, I must say I am convinced that much of the reason for your fortuitous match lies in George’s mother’s ambitions.”
Everyone knew of those. Mrs. Barrington’s not-so-subtle eye was on more exalted rungs of the ladder of Society than she could ever hope to reach on her own.
“The Downys may not be wealthy,” Mother added, “but we have a fair bit of cachet.”
Although that was diminishing with each generation. Caroline’s great-grandfather had been a duke. Caroline’s father was the youngest son of the duke’s youngest son, which made her one step removed from being an absolute nobody. Apparently, however, that one step meant something to the Barringtons.
Boisterous male voices sounded in the corridor. Though the family maintained an income sufficient enough for both a butler and a footman, the servants were never boisterous. The commotion, therefore, was likely the gentlemen arriving at last.
The last time she’d seen George Barrington, he was her friend. Now he was her betrothed. Caroline didn’t care for the change one whit. She hadn’t the slightest idea how she was expected to behave around him now.
“Caroline. You’re woolgathering again.” Mother’s panicked whisper snapped her back to the present.
She watched the door, waiting for her future to step inside. She’d always liked George. Even when they were children, he had been good and kind. She sincerely hoped that had not changed.
The door opened, and the butler stepped inside. “Mr. Downy and Mr. Barrington, ma’am.”
Mother rose and glided gracefully toward the door as Tom entered.
“My dear Thomas.” Mother greeted him with an embrace.
Caroline’s eyes remained glued to the doorway. She was happy to see her brother again, but he was not at all the most important arrival.
Oh, please let him not have fundamentally changed. If I must marry someone who doesn’t love me, I need him to at least be kind.
George stepped inside. The absence of a year hadn’t rendered more of an outward change in him than the difference between a twenty-one-year-old and a twenty-two-year-old. He boasted the same nearly black hair, brown eyes, and easy smile. He held himself confidently but without arrogance. He still pulled everyone’s eye when he entered a room. That had been true of him for several years now, but never more apparent than just then.
Having known him as a child, Caroline couldn’t quite clear her mind of the memory of him as a ten-year-old boy, all knees and elbows, running about Downy House with more energy than grace. She had been all of eight years old and passing through a stage of clumsiness herself. He had, by his mere presence, eased much of her self-consciousness. If this boy, she’d reasoned, could be so gawky and yet be so universally doted on, then she need not worry about her lack of elegance.
He approached her with eyes narrowed in curiosity. “Dare I ask what has brought such an amused smile to your face?”
“I was remembering the first time you came to Downy House.”
His smile pulled broad. “I was such a gawky boy, and I was absolutely gleeful at the prospect of spending Christmas with someone other than my governess. I am certain I made a nuisance of myself.”
She had been well trained in the expected niceties of receiving a new arrival. “You were most welcome then, as you are now.”
He offered the obligatory bow, which she returned with a curtsey.
“We are, indeed, very pleased to have you here with us again.” Mother had abandoned her “dear boy” to offer her own curtsey and salutations. “How fares your mother?”
“She is well, thank you.” George’s manners had grown quite impeccable over the past year. “You appear to be in good health yourself.”
“I am, thank you.” Mother sat once more. With a quick widening of her eyes, she signaled for Caroline to do the same. The gentlemen could not, after all, be seated if the ladies were not. “Mr. Downy tells me your Shropshire estate is doing well.”
Mr. Downy. Mother never referred to Father so properly when only the family was about. Until this visit, George had been considered near enough to family to be included in that exception.
“It is.” George flipped the tails of his jacket upward as he sat in the spindle-back chair. “The tenants are prospering. The neighbors seem pleased to have someone in residence.”
Mother nodded her approval. “An empty home can be a burden when a neighborhood has been accustomed to a full selection of company.”
“Indeed.” George punctuated the response with a quick incline of his head.
Behaving so formally with a gentleman with whom she’d once spent rainy afternoons splashing in mud puddles was decidedly odd. She’d suspected interactions between them would be a bit awkward, especially at first, but this was worse than she’d anticipated.
She folded her hands primly on her lap, and in a voice of theatrical properness, addressed her brother. “Why, Thomas, is this not the mildest weather you ever remember experiencing in July?”
Tom could always be counted on to recognize a jest when she made one. “Indeed, sister dearest. I shudder to think what lies in store come winter. I may need to invest in new woolens.”
Caroline dropped her mouth open in a look of shock and pressed her hand to her heart. “Why, Thomas. How scandalous of you to discuss such a thing.”
“I offer my most humble apologies, sister dearest.”
Mother’s eyes darted from George to the others and back again several times. “Behave,” she whispered harshly. “We have company.”
Tom, bless him, laughed out loud. “It’s only George, Mother.”
“He is your sister’s betrothed.” Mother’s eyes darted between them all. “If we misbehave so poorly, he is likely to change his mind, and then where will we be?”
“Very well. I will postpone the eulogy until after he’s permanently shackled to her.”
Tom’s humor didn’t often fall short of its intended mark, but it did in that moment. Eulogy. Shackled to her. If Tom was to be believed, her goal of simply being content in her match was doomed to failure. George, who had once been her friend, would come to resent her.
“How pleased we are that you are to be part of our famil
y, George.” Mother’s attempt to salvage the conversation was not terribly graceful. “We knew Caroline would have to marry at some point, but I confess I assumed she would make a far less pleasant match, someone older and not terribly picky.”
Being discussed as if she weren’t present was always a wonderful experience.
“Then allow me to confess something as well,” George said. “I am yet in shock at my tremendously good fortune. Your daughter might have married any number of gentlemen with far more to recommend them.”
Mother sputtered a moment. She seemed to find that declaration nothing short of inexplicable. “Well, Mr. Farber was on her father’s list of gentlemen he meant to speak with on this matter, and he is both wealthy and significant in the eyes of the ton.”
“Don’t forget his legendary love of brandy,” Tom added with a laugh. “Besides, Mother, Farber is at least as old as Father. Surely Caro wasn’t so desperate as all that.”
Mother turned wide eyes to Tom. “Oh, but she was. Without a dowry, how else was she to secure an offer from someone better?”
Caroline stood, offering a benign smile. “I feel a bit of a headache coming on, so I mean to go lie down for a bit. Once the lot of you decide if I am to be declared fortunate or desperate, do send word with one of the maids, as I would very much like to hear the verdict.”
She held her head high as she made her way toward the door. It was likely a more dramatic departure than she ought to have indulged in. But, heaven help her, the past month of knowing she’d been handed off to the highest bidder had proven a difficult reality to embrace. That weight only grew with George here speaking of her in the same dismissive way, as though she really was a commodity to be traded and evaluated. George, who had always treated her as a person worth knowing. Who had never seemed to devalue her because she was female. Even he seemed to have changed.
Sarah M. Eden British Isles Collection (A Timeless Romance Anthology Book 15) Page 1
