The Debutante Bride: A Sweet Regency Romance (Ladies of Mayfair) Read online

  The Debutante Bride

  Wendy May Andrews

  ∞∞∞

  Sparrow Ink

  www.sparrowdeck.com

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Dedication

  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

  Epilogue

  Contact the Author

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2019 Wendy May Andrews

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced, transmitted, or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN - 978-1-9994932-4-0

  Cover design by German Creative

  Edits by Julie Sherwood

  Formatting by Sparrow Ink

  www.wendymayandrews.com

  Dedication

  As always, to my superfans, Mum & Dad.

  Thank you for reading every draft and loving each one.

  Your encouragement keeps me going!

  And to Mr. Andrews for being the best everything for me.

  This book has a recurring thread of friendship. Beth relies heavily on her friends to get on her feet in her new life, and one has to be brutally honest with her about where she is going wrong. Everyone needs friends like that. I wish that for you, my dear reader. So this book is dedicated to friends and friendship. May we all be better friends to one another.

  Chapter One

  "Oh, no, it’s Papa! He’s early, and look at me!” wailed Beth as she glanced down at her plain, serviceable frock, the hem of which was liberally sprinkled with leaves and grass due to their pleasant trek through the surrounding countryside.

  The sun had been warming their backs, and the birds had been providing cheerful background music on the beautiful autumn day as Beth had skipped along, happily chatting with her life-long best friend, Max, seemingly without a care in the world. They had been having a glorious afternoon, relishing the last of the mild days, basking in the vibrant colours, endeavouring to wring every last bit of pleasure from their surroundings as winter’s gloom could be sensed on the horizon and summer faded into a memory.

  All of a sudden, it seemed as though a black cloud enshrouded Beth when she spotted the previously shiny, but now somewhat dingy, black and gold carriage in the distance, rapidly approaching. Her carefree manner had instantly transformed into one edging toward terror as she swiftly stifled a fit of hysterics. She felt all colour drain from her previously flushed face as they stood together and watched the labouring horses shudder around a curve in the lane, dust billowing in clouds behind them.

  “You look fine to me,” Max soothingly replied, loyal as always, while he too stared at the approaching equipage. He couldn’t suppress his own shiver of apprehension as they watched the heaving horses swiftly eating up the distance as they neared the end of their journey.

  “You know what I mean, Max! Quick, help me hop over this fence. I shall have to dash across the field. I should be able to make it. ‘Bye, wish me luck! Maybe Papa’s alone,” she added, although her tone revealed a lack of hope in that possibility.

  With that, she ran off in the direction of home without a backward glance. She might have even made it with time to spare, if fate had not been conspiring against her in the form of the largest black horse that Beth had ever seen, leaping over the hedge and almost landing on her. Beth was momentarily frozen with shock, but she swiftly found her tongue and allowed herself an outlet for all her frustrations. The panic she had already been experiencing due to her father’s imminent arrival, combined with the fright she had from the large horse lent a sharpness to her tongue as she turned on the hapless rider.

  “Why don’t you watch where you are going, you detestable lout? You almost landed right on top of me!” With uncharacteristic vitriol, Beth hurled the accusation at the handsome stranger who was struggling to control his badly shying mount.

  “I should watch where I am going?” he demanded, incredulous. “I came upon the hedge. There is no way I could have seen you. Could you not hear me coming? We aren’t exactly silent as we approach a jump, Castor and I. You should have been paying more attention.” His anger caused him to yell at her in return before it dawned on him that the beautiful girl before him was actually trembling with terror rather than anger. And his lecture only added to her discomfort by piling mortification on top of the mess of overwhelming emotions that was already clearly displayed on her lovely, heart-shaped face.

  “I am in a dreadful hurry, sir, and you have held me up even longer. Just be more careful in the future,” she reprimanded him, her heated tone tinged with haughtiness. Without another word or even a by your leave, she continued her headlong race towards the rundown manor house that was her home, not sparing a glance for the handsome rider who was continuing to watch her as she dashed through the servants’ door at the side and swept up the back stairs.

  ∞∞∞

  “Quickly child, you know your Papa hates to be kept waiting.” The kindly older woman made encouraging gestures towards her former charge as she tried to rush her and reassure her at the same time. Beth could see she was trying not to wring her hands, and it did nothing to settle her nerves.

  “I know, Molly, hurry and help me change into a proper gown. Do you know if Papa is alone?” Beth struggled to change out of her soiled clothing, panic and haste making it a more difficult task.

  “No, precious, he’s not,” came the quiet and mournful reply as Molly helped her tug her way out of one frock and get laced up into a clean and decidedly more suitable gown.

  “May the Saints preserve me!” declared Beth vehemently as she turned to allow the other woman better access to lace her more firmly into her gown.

  “Now, Beth, you’ve known this day was coming. You can’t possibly be shocked. Besides, I’ve seen the gentleman, and he don’t look half bad!” reprimanded Molly, although her tone was gentle as she finished with the gown and proceeded to pass a brush through Beth’s dishevelled curls.

  “Molly, you think any man with all his teeth and hair isn’t half bad.” Beth’s laugh was shaky as she made an effort to calm her scattered wits and lighten the mood in the chamber with a touch of humour. “Besides, you know any friend of my father has to be the spawn of Satan.”

  “Elizabeth Marie Dunseith, don’t speak such sacrilege!” gasped Molly in outrage, her ample bosom heaving with distress.

  “Oh, Molly, you know you agree with me.” Despite her trepidation, it was true that Beth was partially resigned to her fate. She had always known it would eventually come to this, at least for nearly as long as she could remember. She had been raised with the knowledge that this day would come; she had just always considered it to be a future event. Now the future had finally arrived, and she was not as resigned as she had always thought.

  “No such thing,” Molly replied dutifully. “Now hurry, child, you have to be ready and serene — and no running.”

  “I fee
l like I am going to my execution,” Beth said with only partially feigned melancholy.

  “Calm down and get yourself down the stairs!” admonished Molly, actually nudging her from the room with a gentle push to the small of her back.

  “Yes, Madam!” Beth gave a mocking salute before throwing herself into her old nurse’s arms.

  “And Bethy, you know your old nurse loves you,” murmured the older woman mistily as they shared a quick, warm hug. Molly silently sent up a prayer for her sweet girl as she watched her darling Beth struggle with her duty.

  With that, Beth dashed down the stairs, pausing only to catch her breath before discreetly entering the drawing room. She could hardly believe her eyes when she watched, as if in a daze, her father and the handsome stranger turn to her.

  How could it possibly be that the man with Father is the same man I saw and yelled at? This is not going to turn out well. I can just see it now, she pondered as she felt panic well up in her breast.

  Knowing there was nothing to be done and her father expected a certain type of behaviour, she calmly plastered a blank, expressionless mask on her face, hiding any and all feelings as was her habit around her father, and waited to see what would unfold. She did not reveal by even the flicker of an eyelash that she had ever clapped eyes on the stranger before.

  ∞∞∞

  Turning around at the sound of the door opening, Justin was surprised to see the young woman he had encountered by the hedge. He had absentmindedly thought she was a servant from what she had been wearing earlier, and here it turned out she was the daughter of the house, he realized with amazement. If her beauty had struck Justin before, he was quite stunned by it now, but felt there was something missing in her face. It had been so alive with expressive feeling just a few short minutes earlier. He watched in fascination as her previously lively face masked into an almost frightening blankness, and her blue eyes took on a cold frigidity like he’d never before seen as she briefly touched her lips to her father’s cheek.

  “Welcome home, Father. I trust your trip went well,” uttered the monotone voice that had previously been full of such furious vigour towards him and his horse. Justin watched in bewildered fascination as the scene unfolded before his eyes, as though he were a spectator, rather than a participant.

  “Ah, Elizabeth, I have a surprise for you,” said Sir Dunseith in an uncharacteristically friendly voice. “Say hello to your betrothed husband.” He gave a flourishing bow as he turned toward the young lord.

  Justin cringed anew at the older man’s crass behaviour. How on earth had he gotten himself into this horrible mess, he asked himself as he watched the young woman’s face close in even more upon itself, if that were at all possible. There was no way to measure what she was thinking. She had shown such spirit out on the path this afternoon. Now she stood before him as still as a statue, not even acknowledging by the blink of an eyelash that she had ever seen him before in her life, let alone that she had been berating him not that long ago, nor that she had heard the outrageous announcement her father had just made. How could he have been so foolish as to think he was doing a good deed by saving this girl from her wretched father? She’s probably as horrid as he is, and now he’d have to live with this mistaken chivalry for the rest of his days. Maybe she’ll throw a fit like the one she portrayed earlier, he thought desperately. Surely, she cannot wish to be wed to a complete stranger.

  “How do you do?” uttered the bloodless lips of the statuesque beauty politely.

  “Elizabeth, meet Justin Fulton, Earl of Westfield. Fulton, my daughter, your bride. Elizabeth, you are going to marry the earl as soon as can be arranged,” the atrocious man announced as though he were announcing something as commonplace as the noon meal. He was unable to keep the note of greed from his voice as he contemplated the prospects of bleeding the earl of some of his wealth, but he just managed to restrain his hands from rubbing together with glee, Justin observed with twisted amusement. His strange detachment allowed him to see the humour despite the horror that was threatening to engulf him.

  Beth’s face remained impassive as she smiled benignly at Justin. “I am honoured.” Her curtsy was elegant and respectful. She did not waver as she performed the exercise.

  Justin was appalled at his involvement in this plot. He looked into her oddly empty eyes and did the only thing a gentleman could.

  “The honour is mine,” he murmured as he briefly kissed the back of her hand, not bothering to linger over it.

  “How soon can we get this deed wrapped up, Wife?” Papa boomed to Mama in seeming good humour.

  “I’m not sure, Father. I will confer with the minister about the reading of the banns, and…” she trailed off uncertainly as she was inevitably interrupted by her brash husband.

  “No! That will not be necessary. We got a special license on our way down here,” Sir Dunseith declared with relish.

  “We did?” Justin exclaimed in stunned surprise, having had no idea things would develop so quickly. He had been harbouring a secret hope that he would find a way out of this predicament, if there were enough time for something to intervene. He experienced the decidedly unwelcome sensation that he no longer had control over his own life and wondered fleetingly which of the Fates was laughing over his quandary as a rushing noise filled his ears. He struggled to maintain his composure, as well as his consciousness, as the conversation continued to swirl around him.

  “This calls for a drink! Someone fetch a decanter,” boomed Dunseith, who seemed already the worse for drink. “We must have a celebration!”

  “Come along, Elizabeth, we have many things to discuss,” called Mama, her tone faint as they gently drifted from the room.

  “Mama! What shall I do?” Beth’s groan was low but frantic once they were out of earshot. “I shall positively die! I don’t know this man. How could he wish to be wed to me? He must be exactly like Papa, and I shall have to maintain the vapid creature Papa trained me to be. I cannot live like this for the rest of my days, Mama. Is there nothing I can do?”

  “Hush, child, you do not want your Papa to come in here,” Beth’s mother admonished with a tense glance at the door they had left slightly ajar. “I am sorry, Beth, I should have stood up to your father years ago and not allowed this situation to develop. Now we shall have to live with your Papa’s actions. I wish you were not going to suffer the consequences of my cowardice,” Lady Claire wept weakly.

  “No, Mama, this is not your fault. You tried to defy him in the past, and that did not get us anything but more trouble. I will marry this man, as my father orders. I also lack the courage to stand up to Papa. I will just have to act the way Papa taught me, to keep the peace.”

  “Oh, my darling daughter, maybe you will find happiness with this man. I’m sure not all men are as your father is,” Claire said although, as usual, her voice was weak and doubtful.

  “Perhaps,” Beth said, although she was hesitant to agree. Her limited experience didn’t fill her with hope, and in that moment, she was unable to muster the strength to comfort her mother, wishing instead there were someone to offer some to her.

  “Well, shall we collect our needlework and return to the gentlemen? You should come join your father and your fiancé. You will need to learn all about him, my dear. It is best to know what your husband likes and dislikes. It smoothes the way nicely.” Beth’s mother prepared to once again drift from the room, seeming to have forgotten about her daughter’s distress.

  “I shall have the rest of my life to do so, Mama. I need some time alone to get used to the idea of leaving here. By the way, how soon do you think Papa will want this done?”

  “Mayhap tomorrow,” answered Lady Claire, her uncertain tone distant as she hovered near the door.

  “Tomorrow? Oh, no, Mama, I cannot. This is too much to ask. No, I shall not! I must go, Mama. I need some time to adjust myself to this.” With that, she whirled around and ran from the room with her emotions in a riotous turmoil.

  ∞∞
∞

  “Max, Max! I need you!” Beth nearly sobbed as she ran towards where she expected to find her friend. There he was, as dependable as always, lying on the riverbank in their usual meeting place. She flung herself onto the soft ground beside him, momentarily unconcerned about the state of her gown in her despondency.

  “Oh, Max, it’s horrid. He said not more than two words, and it seems Papa expects us to be wed TOMORROW! What shall I do? How can my own father do this to me? I had no idea we needed this Fulton’s money so desperately that the marriage must take place immediately. Everyone keeps telling me that I have been expecting this all my life, but that doesn’t change how terrible it is now that the time has arrived. I always knew my father would arrange an advantageous match for me, but the reality is so much more terrible than the expectation.” She paused for a moment, as she made an effort to calm herself, and carried on in a more sedate tone. “I don’t know if I can go through with it. If only Mama and I could run away. If it were not for my fear of what he would do to her, I would refuse to go along with this madness.” A new idea occurred to her and she turned to her dear friend with a lighter countenance. “Maybe you and I should run away together. I’d promise to be a very good wife,” she finished on a cajoling note with a winsome smile.

  “Beth, you know I love you like a little sister. But we would end up hating each other. You know we would never get along as husband and wife. For one thing, we are much too young to be on our own. And for another, you would always be telling me what to do, and we would be miserable. Besides, our fathers would hunt us down and kill us. Yours for the obvious reasons, and mine because he expects me to marry to advantage as well.” Max paused for a moment then continued in an altered tone. “Did you say Fulton? Do you mean Lord Fulton, the Earl of Westfield?” Max questioned in some surprise.

  “Yes. I mean, I think so. I will admit that I was not paying complete attention when my father mentioned his title, but that does sound familiar,” she replied with trembling lips, struggling to prevent the tears welling in her eyes from falling.