L.L. Diamond's Blog

Happy Friday! Today, The Unexpected Heir is out on Kindle Unlimited, Kindle, and paperback! Just click the links to read/purchase. If you did not follow the preview, then click on the links to read the prologue and first four chapters. Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4.

If you’d like to win one of three ebook copies of The Unexpected Heir, please comment below!

Happy Reading

To purchase, click here!

The week is flying by and we’re up to Chapter 3! If you haven’t read the previous chapters yet, please follow the links to catch up. Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2. Release day is Friday, July 11! I’m trying to get everything up and ready for launch, so when I have a preorder link, I’ll post it on social media and here.

Now, for the cover! I couldn’t resist adding Herne into the cover. He’s a reindeer in real life, but it was the best white stag photo I could find

Now, onto Chapter 3!

Chapter 3

1st October 1811

“Oh, Mr. Bennet! Do you not see that this would be a marvellous thing for our girls?”

Her mother’s cries carried out of the library and into the hall. Elizabeth paused and breathed deeply for a moment. She had once again returned from her walk to one of her mother’s fits. They occurred more and more often these days. She could not escape them it seemed.

After steeling herself, she stepped inside her father’s sanctuary, and her mother sneered. Whatever words were to come would not be good. Elizabeth’s body tightened.

“And what are you doing about finding a husband? When your father dies and we are cast out, do not think I can keep you. If you had been a boy—”

Papa held up a hand. “Do not say it, Mrs. Bennet! As for my visiting Netherfield, we know little of the gentleman who has leased the property. He and his family may not be magical. We must tread with care. I shall speak to Sir William. I heard he has called on them.”

“What do I care if they are magic or not?” Her mother’s voice had become shrill. “I shall not have the funds to keep your daughters when something happens to you. They must be wed. I shall not have it any other way. I insist you go and go now!”

Elizabeth crept around her mother to sit in her preferred chair. If she said nothing, her mother might forget her presence for the time being.

“I have your tea, Mrs. Bennet,” said Hill as she entered quickly with a tray. 

“When did I say I wished for tea?” The housekeeper remained so patient with Mama when she was like this. Such a skill was one Elizabeth desired. Her equanimity was difficult to maintain when her mother’s ire was so often directed at her.

Papa stood and moved a book so Hill could place the tea tray on the desk. “I ordered it. Now, sit and take a cup, my dear.”

With a flounce and a huff, her mother sat then accepted the tea from the housekeeper. After her first sip, she opened her mouth to continue her vitriol, paused, and rested her hand with the cup in her lap, a frown marring her pretty face.

“What was I to say? My mind is so foggy all of a sudden.” Mama blinked and looked down into her tea.

“Do not worry yourself over such triflings,” said Mrs. Hill. “I believe you were about to remove to the parlour to attend to your needlework. Miss Bennet is sewing clothing for the Smith’s new baby. You could join her. Would that not be lovely?”

“I am embroidering a tablecloth for the dining room, with five-petaled lilacs. Those are for good fortune, you know.”

“You showed me your progress two days ago if you recall. The piece shall be beautiful when it is finished.” Mrs. Hill aided Mama to stand and placed a hand upon her back as she helped her from the room. “If you would like, I can bring the tea for you to drink while you work.”

“Yes, thank you, Hill,” said Mama as they departed. Hill closed the door after returning briefly for the tray.

“I am pleased you did not employ Jane to calm her. Jane exerts herself too much to care for Mama.”

Her father dropped back into his chair and leaned forward against the desk, rubbing his temples. “I agree. I am attempting to do better. Jane will not be with us forever, and we must learn to do for ourselves.”

“So you have had the same visions?” She was not prepared for Jane to leave, but the day was coming if the glimpses Elizabeth had seen were correct. How she would miss her dear sister when she was married and gone!

“I have seen a little. I only know she is to marry a fair-haired gentleman.”

Elizabeth leaned against the arm of her chair. “Mr. Bingley I have heard him called in mine. He is a very happy fellow from what I have seen.” He never failed to wear a wide grin in her visions.

“He does seem to be that,” said Papa. “Mr. Bingley is also the name your mother just used for the gentleman leasing Netherfield. I suppose there may be something to her rantings.”

“And it is also likely they are from a magical family.” The assumption was one that could be made. Her father would not sanction a marriage between someone without magic and one of his daughters. He could not take the risk that someone would inadvertently notice one of their talents and accuse them of witchcraft. Such an unequal match was dangerous.

Papa dipped his chin to look at her over his glasses. “Have you seen Fitzwilliam since the equinox?”

She shook her head. “No, but I have reason to believe he will find me out walking at some point.”

“Will you allow him to get to know you? Lady Anne and Darcy were excellent people. I cannot imagine they raised their son to be anything less. I could never part from you for someone unworthy.”

Through the window, the leaves falling from the trees caught her eye. The last thing she wished for was an arranged engagement, but what if this Mr. Darcy was indeed well-suited for her? She might regret rejecting him without giving him an opportunity to prove himself. “I feel I should see if we are a good match first.”

“I fear there are few who would challenge your quick mind. Fitzwilliam was intelligent and talented, even at a young age. While we awaited your birth, Darcy and I both worked with him. He exceeded all of my expectations at that time. From what I heard from his father in the years following, the young Darcy continued to impress his father with his skill.”

Elizabeth could not help but fidget. She had withheld a few details when she had told her father of their meeting. Could he provide insight into the questions she had from that night?

“What are you holding back, my dear?”

She almost laughed at his perception. He always knew when she kept secrets.

“Well, as we approached the stones on the equinox, the vibrations from the altar greeted me at the edge of the wood, but so did other sensations—strong ones—and they strengthened when I spoke to him. Could I be sensing his power?”

He sat back, his gaze penetrating. Could he see through her? “You are accustomed to sensing magic. The hum is what one characteristically feels, and the strength can vary based on the other’s talent. I would venture this is more than the usual, but what, I only have suspicions. You and Fitzwilliam will need to discern that meaning between the two of you. Since the sensations greeted you when you entered the forest, I am sure it must be more than mere attraction.”

Her cheeks heated. “I would rather not discuss any attraction with you, Papa.”

With a laugh, he picked up a book near the edge of the desk. “I feel the same, Lizzy. I feel the same. Come, I believe we were to review a few more advanced protective charms today. If we are to make any progress, we should begin.”

~*~

30th September 1811

“Sir,” said the butler. “Mr. Bennet of Longbourn.” The servant shifted against the door as the gentleman being announced stepped into the drawing room.

Fitzwilliam had to hold his breath for a second not to chuckle. Since he had little recollection of the gentleman from his youth, his father had oft times described Mr. Bennet to him as resembling the illustrations they had once seen of Merlin, without the long robes, of course. Mr. Bennet wore a suit that appeared at least five seasons old, and his hair was cropped closer to his head, just as Fitzwilliam would have expected. He even had a longish sort of beard.

Bingley stepped forward with his usual jovial countenance. “Mr. Bennet, I am pleased to welcome you to Netherfield. May I present my good friend Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, my brother-in-law, Mr. Reginald Hurst, his wife Mrs. Hurst, and my sister Miss Caroline Bingley.” Bingley gestured to each as he introduced them then he motioned to the couch. “Please do sit. I have been eager to get to know all of my neighbours.”

As Mr. Bennet took the offered place on the couch, their guest tilted his head for a moment while he glanced about the room, his lip curved ever-so-slightly on one side. The expression was not so dissimilar to the one Elizabeth wore from time to time on the evening of the equinox. If he had to guess, Mr. Bennet was amused by them all. How much could the gentleman perceive from the brief time in their proximity? His father once said Mr. Bennet was rarely fooled by people. Fitzwilliam could not wait to ask for Mr. Bennet’s opinions of his friends.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances,” said Mr. Bennet. “I hope you are enjoying the neighbourhood. Meryton is small, but we are an amiable lot.”

Bingley nodded with his hands clasped together in his lap. “The few I have met thus far have been quite agreeable. I have heard from more than one person that Longbourn borders the Netherfield lands. Is that true?”

“Longbourn is approximately a two mile walk south through the fields. Netherfield’s lands stop at Oakham Forest as you near the west side of the property.”

Fitzwilliam cleared his throat. “The forest is part of Longbourn, is it not?”

“Yes,” said Mr. Bennet. “The Bennets have owned Oakham Forest for centuries.”

Miss Bingley tittered. “I confess to knowing little of property, but would not the land be more profitable if you were to clear it and use it for farming or livestock?” Mrs. Hurst gave a slight cackle. The lady said little and usually followed her younger sister’s lead, and Miss Bingley would never see the value in trees. She possessed a weak talent and placed more emphasis on status and money. 

“Caroline, you know very well that trees are valued in our circles.” Bingley leaned forward and glared at his sister. He could attempt to exert her to behave, but whether she responded was unlikely. Miss Bingley listened to no one.

Mr. Bennet watched the exchange, his eyes bright and darting from one person to the next. “I have heard the owners are seeking to sell Netherfield. May I enquire if such was mentioned to you, sir? I know the neighbourhood is concerned of who might purchase the property.”

“With good reason,” said Bingley. “None of us wishes to be accused of witchcraft. Meryton is one of the few magical hamlets remaining near London. I find the town enchanting, and it would be a shame if the neighbourhood did not remain as it is. Do you know how long it has existed?”

Mr. Bennet relaxed into his seat and crossed his ankle over his knee. “Meryton is recorded as having existed in the Domesday Book. I have documents stating the Bennets were gifted their land in the 6th century. I assume the town came into existence not long after.”

Miss Bingley’s nose crinkled as though she smelt something foul and looked at Mr. Hurst who mirrored her sister’s expression. They would never see the value of such a place.

“’Tis that old?” asked Hurst. He was already in his cups, so thankfully, he had not said anything more thus far.

“How fascinating!” Bingley grinned from ear to ear. A surge of what could only be described as joy filled Fitzwilliam, and he steeled himself to force his friend’s emotion from his body. Bingley needed to control himself. The elder Bingley son had been the heir, but he had died five years ago. Bingley was, as a result, head of his family, but with no more than the mere talent of being able to project his happiness onto those around him. The magic suited him. Bingley was so pleased with everything and everyone, it was almost contagious.

A chuckle came from Mr. Bennet. “’Tis an interesting gift you have, sir.”

Bingley reddened. “Forgive me. I had not intended—”

Mr. Bennet held up a hand. “I am not offended. Spreading happiness to others is harmless. I would wager a little joy could do many a great deal of good.”

“Well, Darcy is helping me learn to control my outbursts. They occur less often than they once did.”

“Bingley was often exhausted and drained from the power he was exuding,” said Fitzwilliam. He could recall Bingley’s eyes being red-rimmed and lined with dark circles. Holding in his emotions had been difficult at first, but Bingley had practiced and become more proficient. 

“Forgive me, Mr. Bennet, but I must ask,” said Bingley. Fitzwilliam had to keep from laughing. Bingley wore an expression that made him appear almost like an eager puppy. “But I have heard mentioned that you have five daughters—all reputed to be rather pretty.”

Bennet’s eyebrows shot up. “I do have five daughters, and I believe they are all beautiful in their own way, but I am hardly impartial. My eldest is Jane, then comes Elizabeth, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia.”

“I heard they are all out?” asked Miss Bingley.

“Their mother insisted upon it, so yes, but I would not approve of an engagement for Kitty or Lydia as yet. They are still too silly to understand a lifelong commitment.”

The clock in the hall chimed and Mr. Bennet stood. “Well, I should be returning to Longbourn. Will we see you at the next assembly? I believe it is in a little over a fortnight.”

“Yes,” said Bingley, beaming. “I should be pleased to go.”

“Good.” Bennet stepped forward and offered his hand. 

After Bingley shook it, he held out his arm towards the door. “Let me walk you out.”

Fitzwilliam stood. This was the opportunity he required. “I shall join you.”

His friend shook Bennet’s hand one more time at the front door, but Fitzwilliam stepped outside with Mr. Bennet and walked with the gentleman to his carriage.

“You look just like your father did at this age,” said Mr. Bennet. “I would have recognised you instantly in a crowd. You do have your mother’s eyes and nose, however.”

Fitzwilliam laughed. “Yes, Mrs. Reynolds tells me the same quite often. Has Elizabeth told you of our meeting?”

“She did, but should you not call her Miss Elizabeth?”

“Yes, I should, yet the glimpses I’ve had over the years of her have been frequent enough to make me feel as though I know her. I assure you; I shall address her properly when we are in company.”

The older gentleman dipped his chin with a slight smile. “From what Elizabeth has told me, you intend to court her instead of relying upon the arrangement. Well done, young man. My daughter can be wilful, and she was not best pleased at the idea of marrying a stranger.”

“I dreamt of your conversation of our engagement.”

“A fortuitous foresight I would say,” said Mr. Bennet.

“Yes, I have known of this most of my life while she has not. I am uncertain whether she has had visions of me, so she may not have any attachment. I shall not know more until I can talk to her.”

“She speaks little of what she sees. I have impressed upon her the importance of allowing the future to unfold as it will.”

Fitzwilliam nodded. “Yes, I would not have spoken of the matter unless I was assured it had already happened.”

Mr. Bennet clapped him on the shoulder. “Knowing your father as I did, I am sure you would not. Since I would prefer you to wed my daughter over anyone else, I shall tell you she takes walks every morning, usually in Oakham Forest. She likes the stones and visits them often. There is also a willow near the brook where she seeks solace on occasion.”

“Will she not object to you revealing her sanctuaries?”

He grinned with a slight chuckle. “Most certainly.” He wagged a finger. “But ensure you win over that beast of hers. Herne is quite protective of her.”

Fitzwilliam allowed a quirk of his lips. “She named him Herne?” Herne was said to be a ghost with antlers who haunted Windsor Forest in Berkshire. The name was appropriate.

“She thought it fitting.”

“Well, he did not take issue with me speaking to Elizabeth the night of the equinox festival, but I shall be prepared nonetheless.” An apple or carrot would be appreciated by the stag, would it not? He had never left treats for the deer on Pemberley grounds, but his horses appreciated those particular foods.

“You could see him?”

“Yes; I could also sense the protection spell, but I could not miss him when I approached the forest.”

Mr. Bennet looked at him over his half-moon spectacles. “How fascinating! If I may ask: your friend, Mr. Bingley—I have sensed that he is a good sort of gentleman?”

With a frown, Fitzwilliam shrugged one shoulder. “He can be capricious, but he is not one to do evil. His brother was the heir, but he died five years ago. He was thrown from his horse.”

“How tragic,” said Mr. Bennet.

“Yes, and Bingley was left to take up the mantle. He may have difficulty finding a wife who is willing to settle for a talent, but he is a good fellow. Why do you ask?”

Mr. Bennet waved a hand. “No reason, really. Just wanted to ensure my sense of others is still working properly. But I should go. My wife was in an ill temper when I departed, so I should return.”

“Of course. I hope Mrs. Bennet is feeling better.”

“Thank you, Fitz. . .” He laughed and shook his head. “I should call you Darcy now, though it is strange to do so.”

When Mr. Bennet climbed inside his carriage, Fitzwilliam stepped forward to close the door. “I shall see you soon, sir. Good day.”

Tell me what you think!!

Happy Monday! We’re getting into the unposted chapters in our book preview. I’m working on getting all of the particulars (including the cover) finished for the release on the 11th. If I can get a preorder up, I will, but I hit my head on a bookshelf last week and have had to adjust how often I work at a time so I don’t get a headache. The book is proofread, and I have plenty of time to get it up on Kindle so I’m not worried. I rested most of the day on Friday and have felt much better since. With the time away from the screen and concentrating, which has been what’s made it ache more than anything.

Now! Since we’re on Chapter 2, if you missed the prologue, click here; Chapter 1, click here.

Chapter 2

21st of September 1811

The crisp evening air greeted Fitzwilliam Darcy as he slipped from the door at the back of Netherfield and with a quick step, started in the direction of Oakham Forest. When he reached the fields, the remnants of this autumn’s wheat harvest crunched beneath his feet. He took in a bracing inhalation. His soul rejoiced at being out of doors and out of Netherfield. Since his arrival, Miss Caroline Bingley had been following him like a dog in heat, and he had been at his wit’s end to escape her clutches. Much to his relief, the Bingleys and the Hursts had departed the day before for Stonehenge, which had given him a reprieve, but today, leaving the house provided him the additional respite he required.

He had spent a prodigious amount of time riding the fields atop his stallion Hengroen[1] during the past two days. This morning, after racing through the fields, he had skimmed the wood along the edge of Netherfield’s lands. The magic from within the forest was strong, the pull it created similar to that of Nine Ladies on his own lands in Derbyshire. Of course, the stones were emanating more power due to the equinox; the strength of the draw would fade after a week or so.

As he rode, he had passed villagers who had come to make their offerings of libations to the trees, pouring cider, mead, or water upon the ground around their trunks. Some harvested from a cluster of apple trees along the south side of the forest. 

Since the earth was nearing its time of rest, all and sundry prepared for winter by drying and storing from the harvest. Those in Meryton were doing the same as what occurred in Lambton this time of year. He had never missed an equinox at Pemberley before, but he had an obligation to fulfil in Hertfordshire this year, and while he could have delayed this until closer to the winter solstice, something in him itched to satisfy a certain curiosity. 

Little contact had occurred between Mr. Bennet and him in the years since Fitzwilliam’s father had died. Of course, their lack of correspondence had been part of the plan to help protect Elizabeth. Their betrothal had been arranged while she was in her cradle, but while it had been known that his marriage had been arranged long ago, the identity of his bride was a well-guarded secret to most. Mr. Bennet had not wanted Elizabeth to be forced to wed at too young an age. Fitzwilliam, however, was more than ready to marry. His sister required the steady presence of an older sister, and he required an heir. The time had finally come.

He lifted the hood of his cloak while he continued towards Oakham Forest. He had never visited the stone circle here, though he had read of the site in his father’s journals. The pull of the power in its midst steered him as he wound through the trees at the periphery of Netherfield’s fields. As he walked, voices could be heard in the distance; villagers who were also going to the circle to celebrate. Bingley and his sisters had chosen Stonehenge since the “fashionable” people were to gather there. Miss Bingley had been put out that Fitzwilliam had chosen to remain behind. Her presence, and that of the ton, were all the more reason to do so as far as he was concerned!

As he drew close, a creature bounded before him, making him jump back. His jaw gaped at the sight. A white stag? Those were exceedingly rare. When he stepped further into the trees, the creature took one step closer, then another. Fitzwilliam extended his hand, and a prickling shot up his arm as he drew closer. Someone had levelled a protective spell upon the animal, and a powerful one at that.

The stag eyed him in a way that unnerved him before it closed the distance between them and sniffed Fitzwilliam’s outstretched fingers. The air glimmered as they drew close to each other. The great beast had been shielded as well. Why was it he was able to see the animal?

“I shall not harm you. I can only assume Elizabeth cast the spell to protect you, but do you protect her as well?” He spoke in low, soothing tones. He had no desire to frighten the beast.

The magnificent animal snorted and threw his head up and down before he crept a bit closer. He nuzzled Fitzwilliam’s hand for a moment, but soon, his head lifted with a start before he bounded back into the forest.

“I wonder if Elizabeth has entered the wood,” he said softly.

He allowed his hand to fall before he continued towards the centre of the forest. He had just crossed a small brook when he came to an abrupt halt. “Blast, I forgot a log for the fire.”

His eyes darted to take in everything around him as he continued. After a couple of minutes, his gaze landed upon a fallen limb off to the side. The large branch appeared to have broken upon its impact with the ground and several pieces were suitable for his purpose. He noted one thicker piece about three feet long. That piece would do nicely. After all, he could not appear at an Autumn equinox celebration without an offering for the fire. He would be considered rude indeed.

He removed his gloves and shoved them in his cloak pocket before picking up the sizeable log and returning to the path.

After about four minutes more, a clearing became visible through the trees. People had already gathered, and a bonfire was being set up in the middle while offerings of leaves, nuts, apples, and candles had been set upon the altar.

“Mr. Darcy,” exclaimed Sir William Lucas, a portly gentleman who stood near the logs as they were being arranged. “I see you have come to join us for our Mabon[2] celebration. You are quite welcome, of course! The Bennets have yet to arrive, but I believe most of the village has come for the festivities. Have you met Mr. Bennet yet? I should be pleased to introduce you when he arrives.”

“I thank you for your kind offer, but my family has been acquainted with the Bennets for generations. I am certain that when the time is right, Mr. Bennet and I shall speak.”

Sir William pressed his palms to his broad waist with a booming laugh. “Yes, yes, I am sure you will.”

All around them quieted as an unusual warmth filled Fitzwilliam’s chest and gooseflesh covered his neck. As he glanced around, those in attendance had all turned to greet a gentleman and his wife who had just entered the clearing. They were followed by five young ladies of varying age from a tall blonde who appeared to be the eldest, to a shorter, stout young lady near the back who could be no more than sixteen. The man was older and wore half-moon spectacles that were perched on the mid-point of his nose. On his arm was an attractive lady whose red curls framed her face well and who also seemed to enjoy being the spectacle of the moment. She nodded to her neighbours as she entered the circle.

“Ah, there is Bennet now. Good, we can proceed.”

While Sir William shuffled away, Fitzwilliam’s gaze flitted over the tall blonde who stood directly behind her mother, but he did not spare her a second glance. His gaze was drawn to the smaller lady to her side. Everything in him locked onto her. He could not look away.

She seemed petite to him, but he was six foot three. Most ladies were small when compared to his stature. Despite that the hood of her pristine white cape was up, her auburn curls could be discerned as they framed the edges of her face, and her eyes sparkled in the dim light of the setting sun.

Her head lifted a hair, and she frowned. As she turned in his direction, he remained rooted to the spot when their gazes collided. The warmth inside him burned a bit brighter, and gooseflesh now covered him from head to toe. He had never experienced anything similar to this. Did she feel that too, or was he alone in his response to her presence?

Their gazes held while her family shifted to the front of the group, Mr. Bennet taking his place behind the altar.

“Good evening. . .”

If Fitzwilliam had been asked later to repeat the ceremony and the words Mr. Bennet must have said before and after, the task would have been impossible. Oh, he turned to face north, south, east, and west with the rest of the group when the time came, but otherwise, he was completely distracted by the lady standing four feet ahead of him and slightly to his right.

Two or three times she turned and glanced at him, but never for long before she returned her attention to her father. As soon as the bonfire was lit to complete the ceremony, the families all set themselves on blankets to enjoy the feast, each family adding a dish for all to consume.

Fitzwilliam stood near the edge of the celebration until Elizabeth rose, her white cape making her easily identifiable as she entered the woods. He followed behind her at a slight distance while she wove through the trees until the white stag from earlier stood before her.

She approached the great beast without hesitation and stroked his head. “I know you are behind me. Why have you followed?” Despite her obviously speaking to Fitzwilliam, she remained petting the stag’s head, her back facing him.

“I thought perhaps you had cast his protection spell. Now I am certain of it.”

“What makes you believe I am capable of such magic?”

He stepped closer, so he could speak more freely. “Because I know you bear the mark of the Bennet heir on the inside of your arm, Elizabeth.”

She pivoted in place and quirked one eyebrow. “What makes you believe that?” Her voice was softer this time.

“Do you not know?”

Hesitant steps brought her to stand even closer. “If I indeed bear the birthmark you speak of, would my father not have declared it to the world by now?”

“Not if he wished to protect you for as long as possible.” She had not answered his question. Did she not feel in her bones who he was? He had been aware of her in an instant.

“And now you are meant to protect me as well, are you not?” So, she did know who he was.

“If you will allow it.”

“Do you mean I have a say? According to my father, I have no choice.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Does he know you are here?”

“He has not come to Netherfield to greet my friend Bingley yet, so I do not believe so. We are not faithful correspondents. We had no wish for the betrothal to be discovered as it could compromise your identity as the heir. You know as well as anyone that there are always those watching who would wish harm on those who wield their power for good. We could not be too careful.

“I confess I came in the hopes of catching a glimpse of you. My parents told me of you, but what they knew was mostly from your birth or tales your father and mine exchanged when you were young.” He often had dreams of her: when she felt strongly about something. A number of times, he had seen bits of their future. Visions of what was to come could change, so as much as he had come to anticipate those sights, he did his best to tame his heart—to tame his expectations and not become attached to her or what he saw. He refused to be heartbroken if she decided against him.

“Pray, do know that I believe this marriage would be what is best for the both of us, but I would not have you marry me for no more than obligation.”

She scraped her teeth along her bottom lip. “You are giving me a choice about whether I marry you?”

“Yes. And I assure you, I shall abide by your decision. You will always have any support and protection the Darcy family can provide. The bond of our families demands no less.”

She removed her glove and held out her hand, palm facing him. He nodded and stepped forward, so they were almost toe to toe. He removed one glove and drew back one side of his cloak. When she placed her hand over his heart, he covered it with his own.

Her gaze held his, though his body trembled at the surge of magic that accompanied her palm against his clothing as well as their ungloved hands. While she was now determining the truth of his heart, would this sensation occur every time they touched?

After a few minutes, she drew back. “I should like some time to consider what I shall do.”

With a nod, he put on his glove. “Am I allowed to do what I must to convince you of my suit?”

One side of her lips curved. “You hope to court me when you hardly know me?”

He shrugged. “Is it not the standard practice—to court a lady with the intention of coming to know her? You must be aware that I have my own reasons.” He would not speak to her of the visions he had seen—at least not yet.

“You will not disclose those reasons to me?” Her arms were again crossed over her chest while she spoke, but the barely there smile and the tilt of her head indicated more of a playfulness to her stance rather than a true challenge. His own lips quirked at her manner.

“No, I believe your continuing curiosity will be to my benefit.”

She bestowed a full smile upon him, and the effect was similar to the sun emerging from the clouds on a dreary day. “Very well. I suppose I shall allow you your secrets—for now.”

Without another word, she turned and began her return to the stone circle. His heart and soul pulled for him to follow, but he had done what he had intended—more, really. He had never meant to speak to her tonight, but fate had intervened. Now he must decide how to woo the fair Elizabeth Bennet.

~ *~

Elizabeth returned to her family and attempted to behave as though naught had happened when she entered the woods. Her father knew well that she would venture into the trees to seek out Herne, but meeting that gentleman was not what she had anticipated before departing Longbourn this evening.

Her insides had been tumbling and fluttering more and more as she approached the stone circle, and when they had entered the clearing, her entire body had erupted in gooseflesh. Had he experienced the same response to her proximity? She had never heard of the like happening before. What had caused such a response this evening?

The Darcy family held a history of powerful magic. Could her body have sensed the additional power? She never had such a reaction to her father’s presence, but she had been with him since birth. They were accustomed to the magic that radiated from each other.

The oddest part of the encounter had been that, even from the moment she set eyes on him, she had been acutely aware of who he was. No explanation existed for how, yet every tiny part of her screamed out that he was Fitzwilliam Darcy, the man she was supposed to wed. One thing was certain: he had not lowered the cape, but what she could discern of his face was pleasing. He was handsome and tall. Was it strange that she now longed to know what he looked like without the cape? He appeared as though he was broad shouldered and likely muscular. Why did that make her chest flutter more than it already had been?

Her father, who had been speaking to Sir William Lucas, glanced over at her and lifted one of his eyebrows. Did he know she would be approached tonight? Thank God he could not read the direction of her thoughts!

“Miss Elizabeth, your father was telling me you have made a study of your family history. ’Tis fascinating, is it not? It is no wonder the non-magical have been creating tales of Merlin and the Lady of the Lake for centuries.”

She smiled and shrugged as she joined the two gentlemen. “If only they had all of the particulars. I believe the truth to be more fascinating than anything that has been written thus far. Of course, my ancestor did not want a few of the specifics immortalised, lest the lady herself know of our existence before her demise.”

Sir William’s head jolted a bit to the side. “Forgive me, but I see Mr. Goulding. We need to discuss the matter of the spring that runs along the border of our properties.”

“No good will come of arguing over the matter, Lucas,” said her father. “I suggest the two of you agree to get along and share the magic. That spring is given freely by the earth for all to use. Its bounty is not meant to be owned and hoarded by one man. Those who share without reserve reap the benefits in the long run.”

The portly gentleman nodded in a twitchy manner. “Yes, I am sure you are correct. I shall attempt to smooth matters over with Goulding.”

As soon as the man was across the clearing, her father leaned in a hair. “Do you believe him?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Her father groaned and wiped his hand over his face. “The people of Meryton have used that spring for potions for centuries.”

“It would be a tragedy to have to hide it.” Magical springs often disappeared. No sooner had the Fountain of Youth been discovered in the Americas than it had been hidden because all and sundry sought it out as word spread of its existence.

He nodded while he glanced around them. “The hour is becoming late, and many are beginning to depart. We should as well.” He looked at her over his spectacles. “I do expect you to tell me what occurred with that young man who followed you from the stones.”

She arched her one brow at him. “Do you not know who he is?”

He offered her his arm. “I am certain I do, but I should prefer to hear it from you.”

Of course, he would, and he would not relent until she told him all.

[1] The name of one of King Arthur’s warhorses.

[2] A feast held around the equinox by the Druids. Pronounced Mah-bon in British English.

I’d love to hear what you think!

I dove into some different research when I wrote The Unexpected Heir. My boss is into magical lore and Dungeons and Dragons, so we had several discussions while coaching about some of the magical theories. One discussion that stuck with me was ley lines, and I played with the concept for The Unexpected Heir, so I thought I would give you some background on why I described magic and its source as I did in the book.

So, what is a ley line?

The term “ley line” was coined by archaeologist Alfred Watkins during the 1920s. The theory is that ley lines are lines of energy that connect landmarks, such as megaliths and ancient monuments, across the Earth. For example, you could have a ley line that connected Stonehenge to Macchu Pichu or the Egyptian Pyramids. In fact, many of these sites sit at a convergence of more than one line. This really wasn’t a new concept since in 1870, William Henry Black made the claim that the monuments all over western Europe were connected by geometric lines.

Alfred Watkins first proposed these existed after noticing that the footpaths connecting the hilltops in Herefordshire all lay in straight lines, and when looking back, a lot of the old roads were formed in straight lines and people using hills and various landmarks to find their way through what was once a dense forest. More recently, the British Museum’s Reginald Smith and Captain Robert Boothby are said to have linked ley lines with underground streams and magnetic currents. Some believe you can find ley lines by metaphysical means, including using a pendulum or dowsing rods, which are L or Y shaped rods that are made to turn in your hand.

If you look at many of the sites linked to ley lines, they are all either mystical in some way or holy by a culture’s religion.

In The Unexpected Heir, I could not use the term ley line since it did not originate until the 1920s, so I used “veins” as the source of magic. However, I do not describe the veins as being a grid-like thing. I took some liberties with the theory. For example, the stone circle in Oakham Forest where Elizabeth walks lies on the same vein as Stonehenge. Nine Ladies is mentioned as being near Pemberley, but that stone circle runs on a different vein of magic running through the earth. The different veins can have slightly different properties, so you may find the magic from one vein lends well for certain charms and a different vein may lend well to others. I do not delve into this too much, but it is mentioned usually in conversation between Darcy and Elizabeth.

In this book, I have played with this theory as well as taken some liberties with an old Arthurian legend, in which Merlin was in love with the Lady of the Lake. She tricked him into teaching her his magic, then used what she had learned from him to trap him into a tree forever. Incorporating all of this made writing the book a lot of fun. I hope you enjoy the story as well!

Release day is my 27th wedding anniversary: July 11, 2025!

Prologue

21 December 1791

“I can see the head! Keep pushing, Frances. He is almost here, and he has a full head of thick auburn hair.”

Anne’s hand smarted as her friend bore down with an ear-splitting scream, the babe slipping into the waiting grasp of the midwife as though the entire process had been the product of minutes and not the long interminable hours that had actually occurred. The woman began to vigorously rub the babe, bringing forth a cry that was, no doubt, heard throughout the house.

“Is it the heir?” asked Frances, her tone urgent.

The midwife smiled. “You have a beautiful daughter.”

Frances’s face crumpled. “What? No! This child was supposed to be the heir! What am I going to do with another girl?” Anne’s heart sank. She would have been grateful for any child, but Frances had always been fickle. Still, how could anyone not cherish an innocent babe?

The midwife caught Anne’s eye and pointed to a distinct mark on the inside of the child’s arm. Anne gasped. “I shall clean her up and bring her to her father.” Without another word, she took the babe to a table near the fire where she wiped away the remnants of the birth. She turned the child’s arm to run a finger over the mark. How was this possible? By all that was known, this was impossible. She shook her head. All she could do was take the little girl to her father and hear his opinion on the matter, so she swaddled her in clean warm blankets. Anne could not help but give a tiny laugh. The wide-eyed little one watched her so intently. She almost seemed to be taking her measure while Anne cared for the infant. She had never seen such an alert newborn.

Once the babe was presentable, Anne gathered her up but paused on the way to the door. “She is truly beautiful. Would you care to hold her?” When Frances turned the opposite direction without uttering so much as a “no,” Anne’s heart split and bled. She looked down upon the small child in her arms. The poor dear! She had done nothing—except being born a girl.

As Anne departed and made her way down the narrow stairs, the babe’s eyes were still open and alert. She brushed her finger down the child’s soft cheek. How could anyone not love a baby? Anne had to shove the stirring in her stomach back down where it belonged. She and Frances had been friends for years now, but at this moment, Anne had to forcibly resist the urge to return to the bedchamber and shake the woman. Why was Frances so recalcitrant?

When Anne reached the library, she knocked and was bid enter. 

Henry Bennet and Anne’s husband, George, jumped to their feet as soon as she stepped inside. “Well?”

She smiled. “You have a beautiful daughter.” She held her breath in her lungs while she awaited Bennet’s response.

He did no more than frown. “But I saw—”

“She bears the birthmark,” said Anne.

Both gentlemen gasped. “Are you certain?” asked Bennet, who hurried forward.

She handed the child to the father and with great care, showed him the four-point star on the inside of the babe’s left arm.

“A female has never borne the mark in any family.” Bennet’s voice was low, as though he whispered to himself.

“She will require protection,” said George. “A lady with the abilities of a man will be sought after—will be in great danger from those who would wish to use her for their own purposes.” A pang ripped through her. Her husband was correct of course. This child would not have an easy time of it. Those who understood the meaning of the mark would do anything to marry her into their families by whatever means necessary.

Bennet dropped back into his chair and stared at his new daughter. “My God. What am I going to do?”

George wagged a finger and took the chair across from his friend. “Do not despair just yet. I think I may have a solution.”

Chapter 1 will be posted soon!

Sources:

https://www.learnreligions.com/ley-lines-magical-energy-of-the-earth-2562644
https://prehistoric.org.uk/standing-stones/ley-lines/

It’s been a busy spring of proofing audiobooks for me, but all has settled with the recent release of A Novel Holiday and the soon to be release of It’s Always Been You (Book 1 of The Wedding Planners).

For those who have not heard the sample of A Novel Holiday. Check it out below!

For those who enjoyed The Wedding Planners, It’s Always Been You is approved for final review and should be coming soon! I’ve found another new voice, Christine Beyhmer to perform Ellie and Will’s story. I hope you enjoy the sample!

To celebrate, I’m giving away 3 audiobook codes to 3 commenters. Make sure you tell me which book you’d like to win!

Happy Reading!

Release day was yesterday! I am thrilled with the response to those few who have already read and left ratings and/or reviews. Thank you for taking the time to do so!  If you haven’t already downloaded it, click the title to download A Novel Holiday! If you haven’t been around for the preview, click for the Prologue, Chapter 1, and Chapter 2. Chapter 3 will be posted below just in case you’re on the fence

Now, since I do giveaways for releases, make sure you leave a comment and let me know what you think. I have a giveaway at Austen Variations. Please click here to enter on that site. Just leave me a comment

Chapter 3

Will

October 20

I stood on the sidewalk while I stared at the façade of the Buttercream Beanery and sighed. Of course, Georgiana would want her birthday cake from this particular bakery—of course, she had no idea what I’d said when Jane told me who I’d been talking to at the charity gala either. I’d be fortunate if Liz—Elizabeth Bennet—hadn’t put laxatives in any food she served me. I hadn’t missed the narrowing of her eyes when she’d heard my comment, and no one in eyeshot would’ve missed the roll of her eyes as she’d laughed and turned toward the bar to face away from me.

My behavior was abominable. I could admit it. Yes, I was shocked to know “Liz” was in fact Elizabeth Bennet, but I could’ve handled it better; not that I’d say as much to her! If I’d insulted my housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, that way, she would’ve baked my favorite brownies and put as much chocolate-flavored laxative in them as possible. and I have no doubt I’d be stuck on the toilet for days while I cried like a toddler. Mrs. Reynolds was like a second mother to me and had witnessed on occasion my less-than-sociable side, which she despised. As a teenager, she’d once hauled me out of a party at our home by my ear to read me the riot act over my haughty behavior. She’d have done it at the gala too if she’d been there to witness it.

Enough with the stalling! I sucked in a breath in case Liz was in the shop. Maybe she wasn’t and I’d get in and out without her ever knowing. My palms were coated in a sheen of sweat. Why was I so nervous? Yes, my aim was to avoid her. The problem remained: how do you avoid someone in their own place of business?

After I climbed the steps, I waited for a mother and daughter to exit before I stepped inside. The rich aroma of fresh espresso and decadent pastries hit me in a wave and beckoned me to take in a huge breath while I glanced around the interior.

The space was large and bright and likely took up the entire first floor of the building. Pristine white walls gave the shop a clean aesthetic with pale slate-blue accents and several windows that provided a view into a courtyard set up with brick pavers and large urns filled to the brim with autumn-colored mums, decorative brown grasses, and a colorful pumpkin here and there.

To the left was the entrance to Novel Books, the bookstore, while a large counter ran across the back wall and curved around the right corner of the shop. To the left, a display case filled with pastries, cupcakes, cookies, and cakes invited customers to indulge in every decadent chocolate and sugary morsel followed by the coffee bar and the registers before the counter where drinks were picked up near the door to the courtyard. Tables filled the rest of the interior but weren’t so packed people couldn’t walk through. To bring a touch of the season to the space, an orange pumpkin decorated with flowers adorned a place near the registers as well as smaller pumpkins, autumn flowers, and other décor that were sprinkled throughout.

My eyebrows were surely high on my forehead. I was impressed. When I’d heard Philips had given the go-ahead for a bakery and café, this hadn’t been what I’d envisioned. Liz had done exceptionally well. Even during the middle of the workday, people sat and drank coffee not only inside but also in the courtyard, men and women in business attire hurried in to grab coffee before rushing off to who knows where, and a few mothers allowed their young children to select sweets from the array of cupcakes and cookies on display. Liz had created a thriving business, but why had she stopped at one location? With the success she had here, why not market the same business plan in another part of the city? She was missing a golden opportunity!

As I stood, no doubt gaping at the sight in front of me, my gaze came to an abrupt halt at a familiar ebony-haired beauty, who wore an elaborate black witch costume, a tall hat perched on her head. Liz stood about ten feet away, one eyebrow arched just so, and her arms crossed over her chest. Shit! I was busted.

“Is there something you needed, Mr. Darcy?” My spine stiffened like someone had scraped her pointed green fingernails down a chalkboard. I much preferred when she called me “Will.” I also preferred a more friendly tone, but what could I expect after the gala?

I shifted on my feet. “My sister has raved about the cakes from here since not long after she started Julliard. Her birthday is next month, and I wanted to order a custom cake.”

This time, her eyebrows shot up. “From my bakery? Notwithstanding your sister’s praises, I would’ve thought you’d rather purchase from anywhere else in New York. Once, you were hoping our business would fail, weren’t you? Or maybe you still are. You also seem to know my sister—which is not an item in your favor.”

With a sigh, I prayed for patience. “Yes, Pemberley Books has hoped to acquire Novel Books. Your uncle’s bookstore is large enough to make it difficult to open our own location on the Upper West Side much less Manhattan. We did our research, and your uncle cornered the market here decades ago. Novel Books is big enough that we would be in direct competition. Buying this store out and converting it would’ve been much simpler; however, with your uncle’s death, we shelved the idea to see what happened with the lawsuit brought by your parents—”

“Who were represented by my sister Jane.”

“Yes, Charles Bingley, Pemberley’s legal counsel and a long-time friend, had the information on the trust and your inheritance of it from your sister. He has since become engaged to her.”

Liz shook her head with what had to be a snort. “Good luck to him. He’s going to need it. My sister cares about no one but herself.”

Although I’d met Jane only a handful of times, I’d guessed as much. Bingley was entirely too cheerful, but he did have an impressive demeanor in court. He could argue his way out of most situations—and had never paid for a speeding ticket despite his perpetually heavy foot.

“I’m not friends with your sister if that helps.”

“One mark in your favor.” She pursed her lips to one side for a moment. “Fine, have a seat.” She pulled out a chair at a nearby table before saying a few words to the girl behind the counter. A binder was handed to her, and she made her way back, sitting in the chair beside me.

“Before we get started, would you like a cup of coffee? I had come to grab one before helping to set up for the event.”

I glanced at the extensive chalkboard menu that covered the back wall. “You have peaberry coffee?”

“Yes, it’s imported from Costa Rica.”

I loved peaberry but most of the larger chain coffee shops didn’t carry it. “I’d like a cup of that.” I started to stand. “Here, I’ll come up so I can pay.”

She held up a hand. “I offered, Mr. Darcy. We’ll consider ourselves even after the Scotch you purchased at the gala.”

I frowned. “That was to make up for breaking your shoe.”

“I’d had those heels for a couple of years, and they weren’t expensive. No need to make up for what I probably should’ve replaced long ago.”

Before I could respond, she whirled around in a swish of black satin and some frilly fabric I didn’t know the name of. What was it about Liz that made my tongue thicken in my mouth and my brain muddle? I didn’t have this problem at the gala—not this bad anyway.

She spoke to one of the girls behind the register then returned. “We have a full staff behind the counter, and it gets crowded, even without this dress I’m wearing, so Mia will brew our drinks and bring them over.

“That’s an interesting outfit. Is that your normal work attire?”

She sat stiff and didn’t even crack the tiniest of smiles. “I’m reading for one of the Halloween story events at two.” She flipped open the book. “Do you want a fall-themed or a traditional birthday cake?”

“My sister is gluten-free.”

“That’s not a problem. Eight months ago, our renovations on the third floor of this building were completed, and we’ve now a dedicated gluten-free space as well as a peanut-free space, and every order is boxed or wrapped before being brought down for sale.”

My eyebrows lifted. “That’s an expensive endeavor.”

“Word of our gluten-free cakes spread, and the pantry-sized space we were using hadn’t been adequate for some time.” She pushed the binder in front of me. “These are the birthday designs we currently offer.”

I turned from page to page, finally stopping on a cake where the icing at the bottom was piped on to look resemble a beehive, the cake showing through for contrast. The pattern gave way to the icing at the top where a pair of bees decorated the confection. White flowers gave an extra touch and a nice decorative element. “Georgiana would adore this. She loves bees.”

Liz frowned. “Georgiana? Do you mean Gigi; a tall, thin girl who talks about almost nothing but the piano?”

I opened up my phone and showed Liz a picture from her last performance.

“Your sister is Gigi. She’s so sweet and kind. What happened?” The slight curve to one side of Liz’s lips gave away her tease. “Never mind, I shouldn’t have said that anyway. Forgive me. So, if this is for Gigi, you’ll need a vanilla sponge with hazelnut buttercream. I’ll add a little Frangelico to the buttercream for the center filling as long as that’s okay with you.”

“It sounds amazing, but you’re going to make her cake?” It was a legitimate question. How often did the owner get down and dirty in the trenches?

“My uncle made me attend the Cordon Bleu in London for over a year to learn the nuances of baking and pastries, and I absolutely loved every moment. When I started Buttercream Beanery, it was just me and Char, my assistant, in the kitchen. We have more employees now, of course, or we’d never keep up with the demands of the café or custom orders, but I still bake every morning. Most of the bookstore business is tended to later in the afternoon. Char and I both collaborate on the menus and specials for the coffee shop business—the sandwiches and salads served at lunch, as well as the cakes and pastries we offer in the shop.

“We have extensive kitchens between the baking and kitchen space on the first and second floor to the dedicated allergy kitchen and baking spaces on the third floor. I’ve never handed over the management of the Buttercream Beanery to another. I have a manager who makes the schedules for the front of the house. Char is my back-up in the kitchens.”

“Which is why you haven’t opened another location yet. Right?”

She clamped her lips shut and pulled a tablet from under the binder. “You need one Bees Knees cake, vanilla with hazelnut buttercream and a Frangelico filling. When did you need it?” I sat back. Was she always so defensive with everyone or just me? Her tone was more relaxed and open with Marianne King, at least the little I’d overheard.

“October 31st.”

She winced. “Oh, that must suck having your birthday on Halloween.”

“My parents always put my sister’s birthday first. She never had to share anything with the holiday like those who have their birthdays close to Christmas.”

Liz’s shoulders relaxed a little. “I love that they put her first. Your sister’s a sweet girl. She deserves to be made a fuss over.”

“I have to ask; how do you know one customer among so many?” I couldn’t name a customer, not that I spent much time in our stores.

“That’s easy. She came in all upset one day. I served her some coffee and a piece of cake, and she told me about a boy who’d made fun of her. I played the part of big sister and told her he wasn’t worth her time, and that one day, he’d no doubt live to regret his words. I believe it was her first week at Julliard. The next day, she came in as she did the day after. By the end of the week, she’d brought in a friend she’d made. Since then, she comes in frequently, and almost always with others from her classes. They study, have coffee and talk, and sometimes have lunch.”

“She’d mentioned what happened the first day,” I said, “but never about you. I remember being surprised she’d come to such a mature outlook without talking to me or our housekeeper, who’s like a second mother to us both.”

The sparkle in Liz’s eyes dimmed some. “Gigi told me about your parents. I’m sorry.”

My insides gave a jump at the mention of my mother and father. Georgiana rarely mentioned them to anyone unless she trusted that person completely. How’d I never known of her friendship with Elizabeth Bennet?

“Thank you.”

She cleared her throat. “Anyway, what time do you want to pick this up?”

“It’s a Saturday evening party. Why don’t you come? You can bring the cake with you, and I’m sure Georgiana would love to have you there.” I gave a start. Had I just invited Liz to the party? Where had that come from?

Liz’s chin hitched back. “Okay, first, I’m not a delivery service; however, if that’s requested, I can accommodate you. We have a company we hire out to at an extra charge. And second, Gigi hasn’t invited me.”

“So, it’ll be a surprise.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to crash a party.”

“You won’t be.” I leaned forward and set my arms on the table. “Look, Georgiana never speaks of our parents to anyone—except maybe me and Mrs. Reynolds. The fact that she talked to you about them says loads about her trust in you.” Which was true.

“I caught her at a particularly vulnerable moment.”

“And have you talked to her since?”

Her eyebrows drew down a little in the middle. “What do you mean?”

“I mean does Georgiana seek you out or speak to you when she comes into the shop?”

One shoulder lifted. “Well, yes.”

“How often?”

She blew out a breath and sat back. “I see her a few times a week.”

“Then I think you should come.” I was going to be extraordinarily uncomfortable, but I’d already issued the invitation. I wasn’t going to take it back. Besides, inviting Liz wasn’t about me. Georgiana had never had an easy time making friends. Even if Liz was somewhat older, I’d move heaven and earth to ensure my little sister was happy at her party. What doting big brother wouldn’t?

Hi all! I’ve got a new one coming out December 1st! I love a good modern when I’ve been in a Regency writing bout, and other than Catching Lizzy late last year, I’ve been eating, breathing, and writing Regency (and swimming) for a while now. A modern was long overdue!

If you missed the Prologue, it’s up on Austen Variations. Just click here!

If you’d like to follow along with my Pinterest Inspiration Board, click here!

To those who are sensitive to it, this book does contain some swearing and adult scenes.

Chapter 1

October 11th (present day)-six months later

I stepped into the glittering ballroom and scanned those dressed in their finest tuxes and gowns while they milled around the room and gathered in small groups to chat about this or that. Waiters dressed in solid black wove through the guests with sparkling crystal glasses of champagne while a long oak bar along the right side of the enormous room beckoned to those who craved something stronger. 

God, I missed Zio! While I held onto his arm, he would walk me through the room, whispering his scathing criticisms of those he disliked and ensuring I was introduced to those he tolerated. My uncle could navigate a room and avoid every pitfall and snake in the grass with an ease and grace I’d always envied.

Now, as I watched the crowd, my stomach was tight, and my fingers gripped my clutch so that the beading dug into my flesh without mercy. It wasn’t that I disliked parties, per se, but a charity gala with the supposed social “elite” wasn’t something I’d become accustomed to. Would I ever get used to this?

“Lizzy!” Marianne King, heiress to a magazine conglomerate, waved me to join her. We’d both gone to NYU; although, Marianne was a few years older than me and had gotten her degree in journalism. Her father had made her work for one of his magazines while in college, and as soon as she’d graduated, she was brought on staff. However, she’d busted her ass to make her way to editor-in-chief. While her father gave her the start, he wasn’t one to promote his own daughter over someone more qualified and had left it to the head of that magazine label to choose the new editor based on merit. Marianne had still earned the promotion. Her work over the years had spoken for itself.

I met her halfway, and she gave me a one-armed hug. “How are you doing? I’ve called, but I haven’t heard from you since the memorial service. I’m sorry for not making more of an effort.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry, Marianne. I’ve been so overwhelmed learning about the company and keeping up with the café that I’ve neglected everything but business. Until recently, it’s been all I can do to get into the bakery kitchen a couple of times a week. Thank heavens for Charlotte, my assistant—she’s been a godsend. She can bake everything we offer and direct the staff with no help from me, so she’s been running the bakery.” I’d met Charlotte Lu at Cordon Bleu in London, and we’d hit it off like we’d been friends for decades rather than a few months. She’d moved to New York after we’d both received our certificates. Zio hadn’t blinked at me hiring who I felt was the best person to be my right hand. In fact, after a ten-minute video call, he hadn’t hesitated to approve my choice.

“But you won’t be running both businesses day to day, will you? After all, the Buttercream Beanery was your brainchild, not your uncle’s.”

“The bookstore has a management staff. We’re in the process of mapping what will happen in the future. I will likely spend my mornings running the bakery and café, then spend an hour or two in the afternoon tending to some of the business of the bookstore. Zio didn’t spend much more than that. He’d delegated most of his responsibilities during the past ten or so years of his life. He just liked hearing the latest and being a part of the ordering decisions. He’d stayed on top of what was up and coming.”

“Just like you.”

I shrugged. “I do try, but I have to give my management team a ton of credit. We all keep our ears and noses to the ground for any rumor of something amazing coming down the pipeline.”

“I’m sure your uncle would’ve understood if you kept to the café and bakery side of the business.”

With a sigh, I shook my head. “I don’t know about that. After I had the café up and running, Zio brought me to these charity functions and insisted I meet everyone. He’d call me to the meetings where they discussed book orders and new releases. He’s been preparing me for this since he brought me into the business. I was just too blind to see his intentions for what they were.

“Did you know he bought a smaller building in the East Village and intended to open another store?”

Marianne’s forehead creased. “Are you going to carry through with his plans?”

“I don’t know,” I said and bit my bottom lip for a moment. “I feel like we’re sandwiched in by Pemberley Books. They own most of the big bookstores when you leave Manhattan. I don’t even know if I should make an attempt. I found out a month ago that they’ve been watching and waiting for me to fail so they can buy Novel Books for a song.”

“You’re kidding,” said Marianne. “How’d you even find that out?”

“My sister Jane of all people. When the lawsuit she’d filed in an attempt to gain part of Zio’s estate failed, she was furious and told me. I think it was for shock value, but you’d be proud of me. I didn’t so much as flinch.”

My long-time friend put a hand on my shoulder. “But you haven’t failed. From what I can tell, business is better than ever. I absolutely love the Halloween story time event you’ve started—and promoting it through the local schools was brilliant. My sister took my niece on Saturday, and she raved about it.” I’d mentioned the idea during one of our management meetings, and the idea had flourished from there. On weekends in the month of October, we had employees, children’s authors, and even actors who would dress to the theme of whatever book they were meant to read and set up in a corner of the children’s department. The turnout had been amazing. Every few hours, we had dozens of kids who would appear dressed as everything from a cat to a Marvel character to a terrifying witch.

“It’s been a lot of fun. I’m reading one of the weekends before Halloween. I can’t wait.”

Marianne glanced over my shoulder. “Oh, my father is giving me the ‘help’ signal. He’s been caught by Cruella de Bourgh.”

I laughed, and not so softly, at her name for Catherine de Bourgh. My uncle had mentioned Mrs. de Bourgh here and there. As anyone could imagine by the nickname, she was not known for her kindness.

“I haven’t met her yet.”

“Do yourself a favor,” said Marianne. “Make an effort not to.”

I held my breath so I wouldn’t snort in response as she kissed my cheek and rushed off. I pivoted on my heel glancing around the room. Marianne had stepped next to her father and was smiling and nodding to an imperious-looking woman with grey hair that was pulled back in a severe bun. She held a cane with one knobby hand while she dipped her chin with the air of a queen. Poor Marianne.

As I pivoted to take in the room, I sighed. This was the first event without Zio. Hopefully, I didn’t look as lost as I felt. I could do this! 

I drew myself up and began walking toward the bar. I would pretend I owned the place—I would act as though I was in the café, except I’d never wear a couture evening gown in the café. My usual attire was leggings or jeans and a t-shirt when I was baking. If I worked the front, I usually wore jeans and a bakery polo. Now, standing here in a floor-length, fitted silver sheath gown with a halter neck and gunmetal beading, I was out of my depth. The vintage store down the street had called me the moment they’d gotten this piece, and I couldn’t argue with the price—not when I could never bring myself to buy a similar dress brand new. Nothing was out of place with the gown. It was me who was convinced I shouldn’t be here.

After speaking briefly with two friends of my grandfather, I searched for the ladies’ room. Maybe a moment with fewer people around would allow me to gather myself. I used the facilities and washed my hands before stepping in front of one of the large mirrors to ensure I had no toilet paper stuck to my heel, or my seam wasn’t hopelessly twisted around my body.

I took one more deep breath, exhaled, and opened the door to step into the large corridor. I’d taken no more than a couple of steps when I was bumped into from behind. My foot slipped to the side on my strappy heels, and my hands shot out to brace myself as I fell. However, the blow never came. Instead, strong arms wrapped around me, and the next thing I knew, I was hauled back to my feet.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve been looking where I was going.”

A pain shot through my ankle, and I winced. “It was an accident. No harm, no foul, you know.”

The man straightened from picking his phone and my clutch up from the carpet, and my entire body froze at the first glimpse of his crystal blue eyes. Holy hotness, Batman! No sooner had he handed me the clutch than I clenched it to keep from fanning myself. 

“Are you hurt?” His watered-down English accent washed over me. I could’ve melted at the mellow baritone he possessed, but instead, I cleared my throat and glanced down to my feet.

“I don’t think so.” I took a step back and almost lost my balance when my foot slid from the sole of my shoe. My arms nearly burst into flames when he steadied me.

I lifted my foot. “One of the straps on my heel broke. I can’t wear them like this.” I started to hobble over to a chair, and he wrapped an arm around me to steady me. 

When I sat and began to remove both shoes, he backed up a little.  “You mean don’t mean to walk around the gala with bare feet, do you?”

“You act like the floors are filthy. Besides,” I cupped my hand like I was going to tell him a secret, “they’ll be hidden by my dress. No one will know.” I’d stage whispered in a tone that would’ve made my mother proud.

His eyebrows lifted while I unbuckled the straps on the good shoe. I’d had these heels for a few years and had used them often since silver matched just about everything. I suppose they were doomed to fail at some point. The timing was unfortunate, but what could I do? It wasn’t like I had a spare pair of shoes in my tiny clutch. I’d also break my ankle if I tried to wear them around the gala.

 “Why even carry one of those? They seem rather useless?”

When I looked up, he was pointing to my bag that sat next to me on a side table. Although, it was more of a case since it had a clasp and wasn’t soft. “I have an ID, a little cash, a credit card, and some lip gloss in case of emergency.”

“Lip gloss,” he said dryly.

“No self-respecting girl would leave home without it.”

I stood once I’d taken off my heels and grabbed my clutch. As soon as I’d tossed the shoes in a gold trash can near the ladies’ room door, I ensured my feet were hidden by the hem of my gown. “See, no one will know.”

He stared down at where my bare feet were concealed. “This is all my fault. I know it won’t make up for the shoes, but can I buy you a drink?”

I squashed my inner teenager who was jumping up and down at the hot guy offering her a drink. She would ruin everything. “That would be lovely, thank you.”

When he held out his arm for me to take, I bit my cheek. A gentleman? How many men offered their arm these days? My uncle would’ve, but like I said, these days.

I slipped my hand into the crook, the expensive fabric of his coat tickling my palm. When we reached the bar, he waved down a bartender and leaned over to me. “What would you like?”

My eyes wandered over the selections. Zio and I always ordered Scotch at these functions, and it seemed appropriate to continue the tradition, particularly when my scan stopped on a familiar dark brown label. “The Balvenie seventeen-year double wood, please.”

Again, the man’s eyebrows shot up on his forehead. “You drink Scotch?”

“Mostly when I come to events like this,” I said, arching my brow to meet his look.

His lips quirked up on one side. “I’m Will.” He held out his hand.

“Just Will?”

One of his shoulders lifted. “For tonight, yes. If you don’t mind.” He leaned over the bar and ordered. 

When he straightened, I tilted my head. “Then I’m Liz.” I couldn’t explain why I’d given him that nickname. No one called me Liz. My family had always called me Elizabeth, except for Zio, of course, and in England, everyone had called me Lizzy. I hadn’t minded. That was the beginning of a new life, so the change seemed appropriate. Now my friends and employees all called me Lizzy.

“So, how often do you come to these things?” asked Will.

A laugh spluttered from my chest. “I’m sorry, but was that meant to be a pick-up line?”

He frowned for a moment, then his expression lightened a little. “Not exactly. Call it genuine curiosity.”

“This is the first I’ve attended by myself. If I’m being honest, I miss the company and feel kind of lost on my own.”

The bartender put my drink beside me, and I curled my fingers around the glass, the familiar weight of it as I lifted soothing some of that unease in my chest.

“I suppose your excuse is better than mine.”

“What’s that?” Now my curiosity was piqued.

“I despise galas and balls and having to put on a polite face. I’d rather write a check and be done with it.” Will held his glass out, and I met it with mine. “To new acquaintances.”

“Not quite acquaintances you could say. It’s not like we’re giving each other much about ourselves.”

He lifted a shoulder. “I suppose if you consider identity, you’re correct. That doesn’t mean we aren’t sharing our true feelings on other matters.”

We both sipped our drinks, and I closed my eyes for a moment to savor the warm vanilla notes that lingered on my tongue. When my eyes opened, Will watched me with a strange look in his eyes.

“What is it?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing. Forgive me. I know very few women who drink Scotch much less seem to enjoy it as you just did.”

“Perhaps I have a more refined palate than most women you know.” I allowed a small smile. Yes, I was flirting just a bit. I couldn’t deny this man looked like he’d just stepped from the pages of a GQ tuxedo spread. The designer tux he was wearing fit him to perfection, and his mahogany curls were a little long but were swept back some, allowing a view of his handsome face. I could stare at him for hours—if I wouldn’t make an idiot of myself.

He glanced around the room. “The ballroom is becoming crowded. Would you like to go to the balcony?”

I tore my gaze from him to where people were beginning to gather around the bar. “Yes, I think I’d like that.”

He offered his hand to help me weave out of the crowd and held the glass door open for me when we exited the room. The cool air of the evening hit me, and I let it wash over my skin. The ballroom had become warmer since I’d arrived, which wasn’t surprising with the number of people who’d entered since I’d left for the ladies’.

“Are you cold?” He set down his drink on the stone balustrade and reached for the button on his coat.

“No.” I held out my hand for him to stop. “It’s nice out tonight. I promise I’m not cold.”

He nodded and picked up his drink. “You’ll tell me if that changes?”

“But if you give me your jacket, you’ll be cold.”

“I’d still be wearing a long-sleeved shirt. Your shoulders are bare. What kind of a gentleman would I be if I let them become goosebumped?”

I laughed. “Goosebumped? Is that a word?”

“I don’t know, but it is now.” He gave a full smile this time. He was attractive before, but with those dimples peeking from his cheeks, he was every woman’s book fantasy—the image in their mind of the handsome leading man. He’d be my perfect adult version of Gilbert Blythe—like after Gilbert and Anne married in Anne’s House of Dreams. God, I loved Gilbert!

Okay! Next Chapter comes on Wednesday with my sale announcement on Austen Variations! Don’t forget to stop by and check it out!

It’s almost October, and let’s talk Montford Cousins! As you may already know, Worthy in Every Way is out on Kindle, KU, and paperback. I’m hoping all of you who’ve read it have enjoyed it. If you’ve been waiting for the entire series to be published, you’re in luck! This is the final book, so if you go to the Amazon page, you can find all of the books listed on that page.

This morning, I’m proofing the first 15 minutes, which due wanting to check all of the voices, Deborah Balm (who produced the last 4 Montford Cousin books) is performing Worthy in Every Way. I’m looking forward to hearing the entire book. What I’ve heard of the first two chapters is as excellent as the previous books. I’m fully expecting this audiobook to come out in November.

You might ask that now, with the Montford Cousins all matched and wed, what do I have planned? Well, I’ve been working on a modern variation. I’ve often needed a reset of sorts after several Regency variations. This time was no different. I fully plan to write another Regency Darcy and Elizabeth variation after this current book.

Stay tuned for more!

Happy Reading!

It’s been a while ladies and gentlemen, but I’ve had a busy late summer. Firstly, I never had the opportunity to share here that Worthy of her Love is now out in audiobook! I’ll have a sample after the chapter for you to try. In the meantime, Georgiana’s story is finally written and almost ready to see the light of day. I can’t wait for you to read it and see what you think. In the meantime, if you didn’t get to read the prologue, click this link to read Tuesday’s post at Austen Variations. Once you’ve done that, simply scroll down for chapter 1!

I don’t have the paperback cover yet since I haven’t formatted it (You have to have the page count for the spine width), but I do have the Kindle cover. I hope you like it!! In the book there are a couple of scenes with a field of poppies, so I depicted that on the cover.

Note: Charles mostly uses sign language (which had been around for a long time by this point) to communicate. Since he lost his hearing almost 30 years into his life, he still has the use of his voice, although his voice has changed. From my research, most who lose their hearing end up with a monotone voice. Due to this, Charles does not typically use his voice in front of anyone but Henry, Jane, and his valet. For that reason and to help the reader know when he is signing and when he is speaking, the font is normal, he is signing and in italics when he is speaking aloud.

Chapter 1

14th April 1815

“Good morning, Miss Darcy. Welcome to Albemarle House,” said Bates with a warm smile. “I understand you are removing to Hemel Hill with His and Her Grace.”

“Yes, I am indeed. Mr. and Mrs. Darcy and the children departed for Nottinghamshire this morning with the Greenes and their children.” They planned to break their journey at Dereham, then continue on to Pemberley in a fortnight. Georgiana was not sure why Jane required her aid with the new baby, but her sister had insisted Jane needed her desperately. She could never abandon dear, sweet Jane, so here she was. She adored children, so any assistance she could provide with Clarissa or even Juliana and Emmeline, the duke’s children from his first wife, would be welcome.

“Of course, miss. The duke and duchess have yet to come down, but Lord Bath is at breakfast should you like to join him.” The earl had been Lord Charles when she had first met him. Of course, the death of Simon, his elder brother and the former Lord Bath, had meant Lord Charles assumed the title since it was separate from the dukedom. These things happened from time to time, yet this one would require more adjustment. The former Lord Bath was not a good man. 

“I shall join Lord Bath then, thank you.”

The butler brought her to a small room with windows that curved outward and gave a lovely view of the garden behind. When she entered, Lord Bath stood and bowed as Bates pulled out a chair across from the earl. After she thanked Bates, she clasped her hands in her lap. Why did this gentleman sitting opposite from her rile her nerves so? He could not hear, but that did not matter. In essentials, he was no different from any other gentleman. 

“Good morning, Lord Bath, I hope you are well.” she said, speaking with both her hands and her voice.

He tilted his head. “Where did you learn that?”

“My brother and his wife have been working with a master who came highly recommended from His Grace.”

“Mr. Creasy?”

“Yes, he has been kind enough to let me join. I still stumble and it is difficult to remember every…” Speaking of stumbling!

She bit her lip and was about to place her palm to her forehead when the earl lifted his eyebrows. He spelled then signed “word.”

“Yes, word.” She nodded. “My brother enjoys speaking to you on matters of estate management, and since you will be a part of our family party in the future, we would not want to see you left out of the conversations around you.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed, he blinked several times quickly, then nodded. Was he overcome? He would not receive a great deal of consideration from most, so if he was, his feelings were understandable. She poured herself coffee. Her distraction would give him a moment to compose himself.

He pointed to her cup. “You do not drink tea?”

“I do, but mostly in the afternoon and evening. Lizzy has converted me to coffee in the morning.”

One side of his lip quirked. “I hear she enjoys brandy. Do you partake of the gentleman’s drinks as well?”

“Lizzy drinks brandy, and my cousin Nicholas’s wife partakes of whiskey—she is Irish—but I have yet to try brandy, or whiskey for that matter.” Georgiana spelled the words she did not know. When she had a moment, she took a muffin from a plate and spread jam upon it before taking a bite. In her nervousness to stay with Jane and her family, she had not eaten that morning. Doing so now might not have been the best idea, but she would try.

Lord Bath returned to his food but mostly picked at what was on his plate. After a quarter hour in such an attitude, Jane finally entered with her husband behind her.

“Oh, Georgiana, forgive me. We overslept and took a tray in our sitting room. No one told us you had arrived.”

“Where is Clarissa?”

“Sleeping in her cradle for the moment,” said His Grace. “We did not want to disturb her before it was necessary.”

Jane glanced between the earl and Georgiana. “Have the two of you eaten?” she asked aloud and with her hands.

“Yes, I was not too hungry, so I had a muffin and some coffee. That should suit me for now.” She spoke as best as she could with her hands so Lord Bath could follow.

With a grin, Jane shook her head. “You have become too much like Lizzy.”

Georgiana pursed her lips. “Not too much. I could never be as forthright and witty as she is.”

“I believe you could if you wished it,” said Jane.

“Your Grace, the carriage is in front of the house. Your trunks are loaded, and the servants’ carriage awaits them in the mews.”

The housekeeper entered with the small bundle of Jane’s new babe in her arms. “I took the liberty of bringing your little lady to you, Your Grace. ’Twas so nice to have a babe in the house. I shall miss it.”

“Here, I should like to hold her if you do not mind.” With a slight lurch forward, Georgiana reached for Clarissa and took the small babe, cradling her with care to her chest. As soon as the wee thing was secure in her arms, Georgiana could have wept. More than anything, she desired a family—children to care for as Lizzy and Fitzwilliam did Alexander and Sophie—but how was she supposed to trust her heart to a gentleman? Wickham had wanted her for her fortune similar to the way Mr. Bingley had desired Jane for hers. Somehow Jane had overcome those scars, but perhaps she had not cared for Mr. Bingley as Georgiana had been fooled into caring for Mr. Wickham. How was she to overcome her reticence with most gentleman? She could not imagine being so open with anyone.

“She seems content in your arms,” said Jane, “but you have had plenty of practice with Alexander and Sophie.”

The housekeeper turned her attention back to her mistress. “Lady Emmeline and Lady Juliana are having their breakfast. They will follow with Miss Fletcher.”

“Good,” said Jane. “I know His Grace has business to attend at Hemel Hill, but I did not want the girls rushed this morning. If you have any issues or questions, do pen me a letter.” 

After the housekeeper nodded, Jane hurried out on her husband’s arm. No sooner were they alone than Georgiana’s gaze met Lord Bath’s. What was he thinking? He was so unreadable all of the time. Here and now, he did no more than stare at her while the baby slept in her embrace. With a start, he held out his arm for her to go ahead of him, and she followed Jane and her duke with Lord Bath close behind her. The flesh of her back prickled. She had never experienced such a sensation before. Why would it happen now?

*******

No matter how he tried not to cease staring, Charles could not rip his gaze from the sight of Miss Georgiana Darcy holding his niece. What was it about this lady that disconcerted him so? He had been in company with her and her family more than once since Henry wed Jane, but he had not truly spoken to her until that night in the library—the night when Clarissa was born. That was the evening Miss Darcy had requested he teach her to sign, but what was he to make of her learning on her own? No, he would not consider it. As soon as he lost his hearing, he became unmarriageable. No lady—not even one reputed to be as timid and sweet as Miss Darcy would want him now.

Since that night in the library, he had taken great pains to avoid her company. When he knew she would be coming, he hid away in his sitting room with a book or rode Rotten Row. Most of the time, she called before the fashionable hour, so the Row was not crowded. Without his hearing, navigating the usually busy stretch of dirt track would be dangerous indeed.

His brother helped the ladies into the carriage then took his own seat before Charles climbed in and sat beside him. Thank heavens propriety demanded Jane sit beside Miss Darcy lest he be so close to her. He was attracted to her, but she was the maiden relation of his sister-in-law. He could not act on his desires.

At a light pat to his forearm, his head darted from the floor where he had trained his gaze.

“Are you well?” asked Jane, her mouth moving with her hands.

He nodded, but when the carriage began to move, he dropped his head back into the squabs and closed his eyes. The next couple of hours would be long with Miss Darcy in the carriage. Rather than attempt to join their conversations, he would sleep, or feign sleeping, whichever he could manage.

*******

Once they had all stepped down from the carriage, Charles followed his brother and the ladies towards the house. Jane hastened upstairs with Clarissa while the housekeeper, Mrs. Deaton, showed Miss Darcy to her own rooms, leaving him with his brother.

Unfortunately, Henry tugged at his forearm before Charles could disappear to his sitting room. “I wish to speak to you.”

His brother the door closed behind them after they entered the study. “You are avoiding Miss Darcy, are you not?”

Avoiding Miss Darcy? Of course he was avoiding her. Henry was aware of his aversion to people—aside from his close family that was. Why did he seem to believe Charles would do anything different today?

“Come now. You never sleep in the carriage. I am not stupid.” Well, that part was true.

“What does it matter if I eschew her company? I shall see her at meals and be as polite as possible, as I was this morning, but why must I spend any more time with her than necessary? She is Jane’s guest, not mine.” Unlike when he was in company, he used his voice. Henry had heard it as it continued to alter, so no reason existed for him to be silent with his brother and Jane.

Henry leaned back against his desk. “Miss Darcy is also exceedingly shy and uncomfortable around those she does not know well. She enjoys riding, as do you. Since I need to attend to some business of the estate, I cannot show her the property, but you can.”

After narrowing his eyes, Charles shook his head. “I thought her here to be of aid to Jane and the baby. When would she have time to ride?”

“She is not a nursemaid, and Jane will not require her every moment of every day. I do intend to take Jane to the grotto in the next week or so. The place is a special one for us, and I do not want that tarnished by what happened there.” Two men had ambushed Jane’s footmen just outside the exit and chased a very heavy with child Jane until they caught her and abducted her. “We had hoped Miss Darcy would watch Clarissa for us then and when Jane is required to attend her household duties, but otherwise, she will be tasked with entertaining herself.”

“Does she not have a companion?”

His brother took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. When his hand dropped, his shoulders mirrored the movement. “From what Darcy told me, her companion wed a local landowner a year ago—a country squire from what he described. Miss Darcy opted not to have another.”

“You and Jane are playing matchmaker.”

“Charles—”

“Do you think me ignorant? Do remember that I lost my hearing, not my wits.” Why would he do this? Why would Jane do this? Why could they not let him live his life in peace? One day, when he left this world, he would bequeath his title and lands to Henry’s younger son…if Henry ever had a son.

“I am very aware you did not lose your wits, Brother, but you have lost your confidence. I remember a man who would flirt with the ladies at balls and who, from time to time, even sowed his wild oats with a widow or two. You are not so changed—not in essentials.”

“But why would she wish to be tied to a man no one respects?”

“I respect you,” said Henry, accentuating his statement with a pound to his chest. “Jane respects you. Darcy and Greene speak highly of you as do their wives and Lord and Lady Richmond. Do you honestly believe Jane would introduce you to a lady who would think less of you because you do not hear?”

Charles sank into the chair by the fire. “I visited Mrs. Chapman.”

Henry frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “When was this?”

“Before Jane’s abduction.” He dropped his head back and closed his eyes. “She has always been a compassionate lady, so I thought to try speaking to her when…” At a touch to his arm, he opened his eyes.

“Did she ridicule you?”

“No, I could not speak—I had no need to speak. I only ever visited Mrs. Chapman for one reason, and she was pleased to see me, so once I bowed in greeting, we adjourned upstairs.” He shook his head. He and Mrs. Chapman had been friends for a few years. She had lost her husband after a fall from a horse and had never intended to marry again. During a house party at a neighbouring estate, she had invited him to her bedchamber. He had not refused. They were not together often, but when they found themselves both in town, or found each other at some event in the country, they indulged.

He shook his head. “I could not bring myself to try to say a word. All I could do is worry that if I made a sound, she would be repulsed. In the end, I could not do it.” He squeezed his eyes closed at the burn. No, he would not cry!

Again, his brother touched his arm. “You never gave her a chance and were likely overcome by your fear of ridicule. That does not mean you will never again…”

“Pray, do not say it.”

Henry sat across from him and rested his elbows up on his knees. “Were you considering offering Mrs. Chapman your hand?”

“No, I do not care for her in that way, and she would never accept it. She is a wealthy widow and as you know, fifteen years older than me.” Most thought her younger—hell, he had believed her to be younger when he first met her.

Henry stood before him. “If I have naught but girls, the dukedom dies with one of us. You need to wed. We are not insisting you consider Miss Darcy but saw an opportunity to introduce two like-minded individuals.”

“Like-minded how?” No lady would want to be shuttered away at Bathwick Abbey with him. They would wish to attend performances and plays in town, which no longer appealed to him, for obvious reasons.

“According to Jane, she has always been uncomfortable around strangers and has no desire to spend time in town. She has been quite content to remain at Pemberley for the past several years.”

“You should have consulted with me before you agreed to this scheme.” He would have never capitulated to it, which is surely why Henry and Jane never mentioned it, but why force this lady into his company when he did not want her there?

“What are we supposed to do, Charles? You hide away from people more and more. The only reason you have come to know Darcy, Greene, and the Montfords is because you met them at the wedding, then were forced into their company when Jane was kidnapped. I do not want to see you lonely for the rest of your life. Would you wish that for me?”

Charles scrubbed his face with his hands and rose. “I shall not court a lady just because you want me to. Do you understand? Now, I do not wish to discuss this further.”

His brother tugged at his arm more than once, but Charles waved him off and departed. He strode upstairs and surely barked at his valet for his riding clothes—he could not know for certain if he barked, but Jennings had startled when he made the request. The assumption was reasonable.

Once atop his mount, he turned the stallion in the direction of the west fields and urged him into a gallop. What he needed now was a good run to clear his head—to for a short time, purge all thoughts of his future, his lack of wife, and the candidate his brother and sister thrust into his notice from his mind. He could not think on any of that now. It was all too much.

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Chapter 2 will be posted at Austen Variations on Tuesday and barring something major arising, I should have the release up by Thursday. I have a coaching conference next week, so it may go up earlier and the release celebration and final preview will still be on Thursday if that happens.

Now, for that sample of Worthy of her Love!

Now, as far as Georgiana and Charles go, I’m not sure what to think at this moment. Do you have any theories?

Today’s the day! 58 JAFF authors giving away books for free. It’s a great opportunity to load up your Kindle. Link and QR Code are below! Don’t miss out!

jaffbonanza.sale