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A Reluctant Bride

Jody Hedlund
Chapters (41)
  1. Cover
  2. Books by Jody Hedlund
  3. Title Page
  4. Epigraph
  5. one
  6. two
  7. three
  8. four
  9. five
  10. six
  11. seven
  12. eight
  13. nine
  14. ten
  15. eleven
  16. twelve
  17. thirteen
  18. fourteen
  19. fifteen
  20. sixteen
  21. seventeen
  22. eighteen
  23. nineteen
  24. twenty
  25. twenty-one
  26. twenty-two
  27. twenty-three
  28. twenty-four
  29. twenty-five
  30. twenty-six
  31. twenty-seven
  32. twenty-eight
  33. twenty-nine
  34. thirty
  35. thirty-one
  36. thirty-two
  37. thirty-three
  38. Author’s Note
  39. About the Author
  40. Back Ad
  41. Back Cover

Cover

Books by Jody Hedlund

The Preacher’s Bride

The Doctor’s Lady

Unending Devotion

A Noble Groom

Rebellious Heart

Captured by Love

BEACONS OF HOPE

Out of the Storm: A BEACONS OF HOPE Novella

Love Unexpected

Hearts Made Whole

Undaunted Hope

ORPHAN TRAIN

An Awakened Heart: An ORPHAN TRAIN Novella

With You Always

Together Forever

Searching for You

THE BRIDE SHIPS

A Reluctant Bride

Title Page

Epigraph

one

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LONDON, ENGLAND
MAY 1862

Hang on a little longer, my lamb.” Mercy Wilkins shifted the listless infant in her arms without slowing her pace.

Clara had stopped responding on Chilton Street, but the slightly warm breath coming from between the little girl’s colorless lips told Mercy she wasn’t too late . . . so long as the Shoreditch Dispensary wasn’t crowded and so long as Dr. Bates was available. He’d treat the infant even though Mercy had no way to pay for his services.

“Don’t you fret,” she murmured. “If Dr. Bates isn’t there, I’ll sell my shoes to pay the fee.”

Mercy ignored the cold dampness between her toes, the puckered skin on feet that hadn’t been dry since spring had chased away the chill of winter and invited a familiar tormentor in its place—rain.

The frequent showers not only soaked her half boots but also turned the streets into swamps of mud and horse manure. The mixture oozed through the holes where her toes had worn through the leather and threatened to suck the shoes off her feet.

She’d tied the frayed laces tight, causing them to break and forcing her to knot them yet again. Though the strings didn’t reach the tops of her boots anymore, she was lucky to have them, lucky to have boots at all when so many wore nothing on their feet but rags.

“I’ll gladly trade my boots for you to be seen to by a doctor, my sweet one.” She brushed a kiss against Clara’s cheek. The infant’s face was as pale as the fog that hung over the rooftops, and as thin and hollow as the terraced houses that lined either side of the street.

Several boys bumped against Mercy, jostling her. Fingers darted in and out of her skirt pocket with the nimbleness of an expert thief. She had nothing for the boys to steal. The looks of her should have told them that. Except that with the sick infant, maybe they supposed she had a halfpenny tucked away to pay the doctor.

She caught sight of the face of one of the boys, recognizing him in spite of the layer of soot and filth. “Mr. Martins is looking for another boy to clean the streets. Go talk to him and earn your bread the honest way. D’ye hear me?”

The boy didn’t acknowledge her comment except to hunch further into his man-sized greatcoat and tip his round cap down to shield his face.