A Reluctant Bride
A Reluctant Bride
Jess Michaels
The Shelley Sisters, Book 1
Copyright © 2019 by Jesse Petersen
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
At Buns and Roses 2019 the lovely Allyson Wotzka won a chance to dedicate this book. On her behalf, this book is dedicated:
“To my children Ashlyn and Larry Reeves, who have taught me anything is possible.”
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
Excerpt of A Reckless Runaway
Also by Jess Michaels
About the Author
Chapter 1
Summer 1812
Thomasina Shelley stood at the sideboard, plate balanced on her hand, watching the man standing across the parlor by the fireplace. The Earl of Harcourt.
She stared, as she always did when the man was in the room. How could one not? He was tall, with a lean strength and a graceful way of moving through the world. His dark blond hair was always perfectly in place and his brown eyes seemed to take in whatever and whoever was around him and make quick, simple judgments that he never doubted. He was, in a word, perfect.
Suddenly she felt an arm come around her waist and she jumped as her sister Juliana appeared at her side. Juliana squeezed her gently and said, “I imagine I know what you are thinking.”
Thomasina managed a weak smile as she shook her head. “I would think not.”
“You are staring at our sister and her fiancé and wondering how in the world we will manage when we Shelley Triplets are separated at last.”
Thomasina bent her head and stole another glance at the man she had been so closely observing. She had been focusing on him, but yes, her identical triplet, Anne, was indeed standing with him. Harcourt was hers, after all. Or he would be in just one short week when the wedding they had all come to his estate to attend would be held here in the beautiful, wild Lake District.
Anne would become Lady Harcourt. And Thomasina would have to call the earl brother.
“The Shelley Triplets will always be sisters, though, will we not? Society will never let us forget it, spectacle that we are,” she said with a shudder, as she tried to focus on Juliana’s statement and not her own inappropriate feelings. “And Anne will come to London often, I’m certain.”
Juliana snorted a laugh. “She will, indeed, for she has been complaining to me all week about how much she hates this estate.”
“She does?” Thomasina said with a tilt of her head. “I cannot imagine why. The land is beautiful, the air is clean, it’s quiet.”
Juliana chuckled. “Have you met our sister? All those things might suit you very well, but Anne is already lamenting the idea of being stuck out in the country where there will be no fun to be had.”
Thomasina shook her head. She and Anne and Juliana were as close as could be. She adored both her sisters, but they could not have been more disparate in their characters. Anne was the wild one, the one who liked to have fun, sometimes to her own detriment. And Juliana was calm and responsible and even keeled. She fixed situations and smoothed ruffled feathers with ease.
And Thomasina? Well, she was the boring one, she supposed. The good one, Anne had often accused with some small amount of disdain to her tone. As if being good was so very terrible.
“Well, she’ll grow to like it,” Thomasina mused. “I’m sure she will be happy with the earl in the end.”
Juliana let out a long sigh. “I hope so. She has been…odd in the past month since we arrived here to begin the preparations.”
Thomasina pursed her lips. Normally she was very in tune with Anne’s moods, but recently she’d felt disconnected. Since her sister’s engagement, actually, Thomasina had felt a distance beginning between them. The reason why, she didn’t want to explore too fully.
“I can speak to her after the party if you’d like,” Thomasina said, shrugging back into the role of beloved sister. One she had perhaps abandoned too long. “Possibly she’ll be more open with me if she’s struggling, as you believe.”
Juliana replied. Thomasina heard her do so, but she didn’t fully understand the words because at that moment the Earl of Harcourt broke away from her sister and the others they had been standing with and came across the room toward them. God, he moved with such certainty. Such confidence and grace. It was a pleasure to watch him command a room as he did.
She blinked and dropped her gaze as he reached them.
“Good afternoon, Thomasina,” he said. “Juliana.”
“Good afternoon, my lord,” Thomasina managed to whisper at the same time as her sister. “It is a lovely luncheon.”
He smiled and motioned his head at the empty plate she still held foolishly in her hand. “Is it?”
She blushed as she looked at the dish. Gods, she’d all but forgotten, she was so distracted by her sisters and the party and…well, other things she would do best not to lose herself in.
“It smells delicious,” she said, hating how hot her cheeks were. She probably looked like a plum right now. And her hands were shaking, which he had certainly marked because he seemed to notice everything. And everything was not good. Not when she got so tingly whenever he was near her.
“My lord, I wanted to ask you about your library—” Juliana began.
Harcourt turned his attention toward Juliana, and Thomasina took her opportunity. “I shall let you two discuss that,” she said. “And excuse myself. Good afternoon.”
Harcourt blinked at her as she set the plate down on the sideboard and then backed away. His gaze stayed on her, even and cool, all the way until she turned and hurried from the room. Even then she felt those eyes on her, dark depths that one could lose oneself in.
“Great God, girl,” she muttered as she staggered through the earl’s halls, away from the parlor toward so many other chambers. She needed to find an empty one. One where she could hide for a moment and regain her composure. She tested the first door and found it open.
She hurried inside and shut the door behind herself, her breath short. “You need to stop feeling this!” she admonished herself softly.
“Stop feeling what?”
Her sister Anne sat up from her reclining position on the settee in front of the fire, where Thomasina hadn’t been able to see her. It was almost as if the floor had come open beneath her as she stared in shock at Anne.
“I, er,” she stammered. “I didn’t—”
“Oh gracious, you are turning purple!” Anne said, getting up and crossing the room to her. She caught her hands and drew her toward the warmth of the fire. “Take a breath, Thomasina, before you fall over! I’m certain whatever you are feeling, it cannot be so bad as that.”
“You would be surprised,” Thomasina muttered as she did as her sister required and drew a few long, cleansing breaths. Then she shook her head. “Wait, what are you doing in the parlor? I just saw you at the luncheon.”
Anne rolled her eyes. “Oh, I needed a break from it all. I swear, ever since we arrived it’s been one thing after another. This never-ending march to my doom.”
She said the last with feeling, and all but hurtled herself away from Thomasina.
Accustomed to this high drama in Anne, Thomasina shook her head slightly. “Well, it is your wedding celebration, isn’t it? You must have expected there would be much to do.”
“I suppose,” Anne said, plucking at a loose thread on the back of a chair on the opposite side of the room. “I just thought it would be more…more fun. There has only been one fun thing here and it—”
Anne broke off with a blush. Thomasina stared at her. Her sister was truly out of sorts. That was a rare thing, as Anne normally carried herself with as much certainty and confidence as her future husband did. Now she shifted as she paced the room, worrying her hands in front of her, her lips pinched and her cheeks pale.
Thomasina stepped in her path and caught Anne’s cold hands in hers. “Dearest, I realize that marrying must be a rather overwhelming idea. After all, it is pledging your life to one man for the rest of your days. But you will be happy. Harcourt will make sure of it.”
Anne rolled her eyes. “Oh, Harcourt! Harcourt, Harcourt. That I would marry such a man as that.”
Thomasina drew back in shock at her sister’s dismissive tone. “What—what do you mean? A man such as that? What is wrong with the earl?”
She could certainly think of nothing. Her sister was apparently another story, for she immediately launched into a tirade. “He never smiles, Thomasina. Never! And laugh at my quips or jokes? No! He only stares at me like I’ve carried something unpleasant into the parlor.”
Thomasina opened her mouth to interrupt, but Anne seemed to be on a roll now and barreled on. “His finances must be in a terrible state, even worse than rumors have named, for he is always hunched over some ledger, utterly distracted. He likes the country over London, so that means I shall be forced to stay here on this dreadful estate with him and his mother, who always seems so nervous and never meets my eyes. Like she has something to hide. Probably that her son has dead wives stacked up in some locked room somewhere and I shall be next.”
At that Thomasina could not remain silent, and as powerful defensiveness rose up in her, she shook her head. “Anne, that is ridiculous, you’ve been reading too many French fairytales. Harcourt is a good and decent man, and to accuse him, even in jest, of something so terrible is not right.”
Anne tilted her head slightly and speared Thomasina with a speculative look. Thomasina shifted beneath it, for Anne often saw her too clearly about mundane things. She certainly didn’t wish to be seen when it came to the very complicated feelings she had for Harcourt.
She turned away as Anne huffed out a breath. “You are right, of course. Harcourt is nothing but decent.”
At the emphasis, Thomasina faced her again with a huff of breath. “You say that as if it were a curse.”
“It’s just so boring!” Anne flopped back on the settee and dropped her forearm over her eyes. “My life will be endlessly, ceaselessly, lovelessly boring, and I shall wither up and die from it.”
Thomasina’s lips parted and she sat down on the edge of a nearby chair to stare at her pouting sister. “You really think your marriage would be loveless?” she asked. “You don’t think you could come to love Harcourt if you tried?”
Anne peeked over her arm at her. “And you say I read too many fairytales! What one have you spun for yourself about my future life with this man? That I will find deep and abiding love for him hidden somewhere in the larder?”
“You could—”
“No, my dear,” Anne interrupted. “That will not happen. And I am not the problem. I have love and passion to share in abundance. The problem is him. He is…he’s incapable of love, I think. He’s made himself so cold to the world, so dedicated to propriety and naught else, that he could not allow himself to melt even a fraction for any woman. And that is what terrifies me.”
Thomasina dropped her gaze to the floorboards. She had observed Harcourt over the past month since their arrival. Hell, she had observed him from the moment he entered their house to be introduced as Anne’s intended, much to the shock of all three sisters. And yes, often he could be proper and cool, distant.
But there were times when she also saw something else in his gaze. A heated core, a passionate center that he was obviously fighting not to reveal. Those were the times she wished she could approach him. She wished she could take his hand and offer comfort to him.
Those were the times she had to walk away so she didn’t do something so utterly foolish and wrong. It would destroy everything if she did. She couldn’t do that. It wasn’t in her nature to take what wasn’t hers.
She cleared her throat, pushed thoughts of Harcourt aside and focused on her troubled sister. Anne needed her now, and that happened so rarely that it was a remarkable situation.
“Anne, you may be correct that Harcourt’s nature is not the perfect complement to your own. Father should have thought of your temperament before he made the match,” she began. “But your engagement has been announced, the banns read and your wedding is happening in a week’s time. There is no other answer than to make the best of it.”
Anne lifted her arm and stared at her. “No other answer,” she repeated softly.
“I wish for your sake that there were, for I hate to see you so unhappy and so certain your future will be bleak,” Thomasina continued. “But I do believe Harcourt is a good man. And if you were just to…to try a little, perhaps you would find more to connect yourself to him than you think. In time you might even be happy with him.”
Anne continued to hold her gaze on Thomasina and she sat up slowly. “Perhaps you are right at that,” she said slowly. “Perhaps I should regroup and make the best of it.”
Thomasina nodded, ignoring the twinge in her heart. After all, she knew that if Anne tried even a little, she would certainly fall in love with Harcourt and that would be the end of that. “It’s for the best, I think.”
“I only need one thing to do so,” Anne continued. “One little favor from my best and truest sister.”
Thomasina’s brow wrinkled and she stared at Anne. Best and truest sister had gotten her into trouble a hundred times in her twenty-two years on this earth. “What do you need?”
“A break,” Anne said, clasping Thomasina’s hands in hers. “Oh, Thomasina, how I need a respite. Since we arrived it’s been hectic, and perhaps that’s part of why I feel so overwhelmed. But if you could just help me take a little time away, I’m certain I could return to my duties refreshed and ready for my future.”
“A break?” Thomasina repeated in confusion. “What do you mean?”