Marrying Her Best-Friend, page 1
Marrying her Best-Friend
Seymour Siblings, Volume 3
Fiona Miers
Published by Fiona Miers, 2020.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
MARRYING HER BEST-FRIEND
First edition. July 22, 2020.
Copyright © 2020 Fiona Miers.
Written by Fiona Miers.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Marrying her Best-Friend (Seymour Siblings, #3)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
Forward: For fictional purposes I took some liberties with Welsh/English history.
Chapter One
DESPITE THE ELEGANT ambiance in the large ballroom, an unsettled feeling remained rooted inside the pit of Elizabeth Seymour’s stomach.
She didn’t care what people thought of her, or her brother’s—the Duke of Somerset—heroic and somewhat violent attempt to ensure that her reputation was left intact. But Lizzie still heard the whispers and felt the reluctance of the people around her to have any kind of interaction with her, as they glanced her way with side-eyed looks. Beyond the judgemental expressions, they were cautious to avoid conversation with her, which made little sense given the regular and not-so-secret activities of half the ton.
Were they perhaps under the impression that alleged promiscuity was contagious? Or perhaps the shame of being in the company of such a light-skirted woman threatened their reputations?
Whatever the reason for her isolation, Lizzie lifted her chin and pointedly ignored their ambiguous stares and forced smiles. Instead, she proceeded along the length of the decadently decorated ballroom belonging to the Marquess and Marchioness of Wealing.
She had already decided she was no longer interested in trivial and mindless chatter from people who didn’t make time to know her. She didn’t appreciate anyone who was not sincere at this moment in time, when she needed sincerity the most. Thanks to what she had endured, she would, indeed, value a sincere strength of spirit above many other virtues, for the rest of her days.
Today she had received a letter from her older brother, Will. He and Emma had married suddenly while on a ship heading toward the port of Elsinore in Denmark. The romance between Will and Emma had been unbelievable at first. When they had met, they could not tolerate even being in the same room together. Somehow, the stars aligned and love prevailed when Will made a grand gesture by boarding the train Emma was on at the very last minute and joining her on her journey to Edinburgh.
Lizzie was glad for her brother. Emma was strong enough to keep Will on a straight path, and they were, indeed, a perfectly matched couple.
Admittedly, Woodlock Manor had been quiet since her boisterous brother had departed, and while her oldest brother James and his wife Kitty prepared for the birth of their child, Lizzie had little to do but quietly wander about the estate.
She had assisted Kitty with trips to town and selecting furniture for the nursery, and as much as Lizzie appreciated that the duchess had included her in these tasks, she could not help but feel as though she was intruding. Of course, Kitty had assured her many times that this was not the case, but she still was not convinced. James’s wife was most likely just being her usual polite and sweet self.
Lizzie would most certainly not admit it to anyone out loud, but she was lonely without Will and Emma to distract her, and as she was the last of her siblings still unmarried, she felt as though she would have been a disappointment to her parents if they were still alive.
Despite being the youngest Seymour sibling, she had always been convinced she would be the first to embrace matrimonial bliss. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined her tight-lipped eldest brother, the duke, and her rake of a brother, Will, would marry before she did.
And both were genuine love matches, at that!
She was thrilled for them both, that they had found such happiness, but there was a pang in her own heart, and a kernel of fear that maybe, the same happy ending would not be available to her.
“My lady!” A familiar male voice suddenly called out nearby, removing her from the sombre cloud of self-contemplation she had somehow fluttered her way inside.
Lizzie turned to her right and a smile formed on her lips at the sight of her dear friend, Mr. Carson Wallace. He stood there, appearing very dashing in his formal wear. She’d known Carson for a very long while, as his family resided in the estate neighbouring Woodlock Manor.
They had spent many summer days in the estate gardens playing as children. Despite Carson’s father not bearing a title, the Wallace family was noble in their own right. A very influential and important family, whose wealth spanned as far as their influence.
Carson’s mother had separated from his father under rather scandalous circumstances and forsaken Somerset without her son, which left the young Master Wallace feeling rather abandoned. Luckily, he’d seemed to find solace in Lizzie’s company, and he would often sneak through a hole in the wall separating the two estates, concealed by thick vines of ivy and foliage.
Lizzie loved those secret visits as much as the formal visits facilitated by their parents, and she kept an eye out whenever she thought Carson might sneak over to play. His father didn’t seem to care that he spent so much time with Lizzie, and he would often visit to have tea with her parents while the two of them played in the garden.
Carson had been a good friend to Lizzie for many years, but as soon as he reached the age of thirteen, he’d befriended her brother Will, suddenly seeming to prefer his male company instead of hers. Lizzie hadn’t seen him as much after that and if she tried to join in with them, Will would shoo her away, grumbling about annoying little sisters trying to tag along and ruin things.
“Carson!” Lizzie greeted him now with genuine cheer, delighted to have someone to speak with who didn’t force his smiles and scurry away without meeting her eyes the moment she spoke. “How lovely it is to see you.”
“And you, my lady,” Carson reciprocated her cheerful greeting, before softly kissing her hand. “You’re dressed very formally this evening.”
“We are in the presence of nobility.” Lizzie grinned.
Carson chuckled and his light green gaze met with hers. So clear, so direct. So unafraid of being tainted by her bad reputation. Her heart lightened as he asked, “Would you care to dance?”
“You are well aware that once we start, I will not be able to stop. Your dancing is enchanting, and difficult to cut short,” Lizzie admitted. “And one can only dance so much.”
“You think dancing has a limit? Who told you such a ridiculous thing?” Carson’s eyes sparkled with amusement.
“Apparently everything has a limit before it becomes unnecessary and trivial,” Lizzie answered, more bitterly than she intended to. She took a deep breath, trying to release some of her frustration about her current situation, and forced a smile to her lips. She didn’t want to place a dampener on her conversation with Carson. He was not the cause of her annoyance, nor did she wish to involve him in her woes.
Carson gazed even more intently at her and cocked his head. “Is everything all right, Lizzie?”
“Everything is fine, Carson. How are you? Have you been doing anything interesting?” She was desperate to shift the topic of conversation.
“If listening to carpenters hammering in the manor house is considered interesting, then indeed, I have,” Carson answered with a chuckle.
“That is right. You are having the library redone after the rains of the winter caused some damage. I had forgotten about that,” Lizzie answered. “How is everything progressing?”
“Too slow for my liking.”
“But you have always been such a patient man.” Lizzie placed her hand on his.
Carson lowered his gaze for a few seconds, then glanced back at Lizzie, his eyes suddenly changing. She wasn’t certain what happened in that moment, but her heart began to pound in her chest as Carson’s light green gaze consumed her. Her skin tingled under his touch and she quickly removed her hand from his, her unsettled feeling now stemming from a completely different cause.
“Thank you for the offer to dance, Carson,” Lizzie managed to say as she caught her breath. “Perhaps in a while. I must first visit the powder room.”
“Very well. But I will seek you out if ‘a while’ becomes too long,” Carson answered with a charming smile and a hint of wry amusement in his tone.
Lizzie cocked her head and glanced at him before she turned away.
What had just happened between them?
She made her way through the ballroom, once again passing the curious gazes of the other guests, but this time, her thoughts were focused more on that strange moment with Carson than any snide looks or whispers. Though it wasn’t possible to ignore them completely, she did manage to keep the ominous feeling that tried to claw its way
Tears threatened to make their appearance, and she pressed her lips firmly together and glared at her reflection to stop them welling up.
Her brow furrowed when she considered the strange feeling she’d experienced when she touched Carson’s hand. She had been hiding her adoration for Carson for most of her life, and it had become such a habit that the sudden surge of emotions was unexpected and rather strange.
She couldn’t allow herself to love him any more than she already did, as he had never shown any sign that he reciprocated her feelings as anything other than an old and dear friend. And the last thing Lizzie wanted was to lose the only person who truly believed she was still good inside, and not the monster everyone else in Somerset thought she was.
Monster may have been a strongly worded term, but their stares and whispers made her feel as such. An abomination to her gender.
A loose woman.
She drew in a slow breath, gathering her strength to push through the remainder of the evening. She couldn’t wait until this ordeal was over and she could be safely ensconced in the confines of her bedchambers, where no judgement was passed, and she was able to breathe freely once again.
Lizzie lightly touched her hair and brushed a loose tendril from her cheek. While she gathered her courage to face the guests in the ballroom once more, she smoothed the skirt of her dress and drew in one last breath before leaving the powder room.
The guests in the ballroom had carried on as though she had never left, or perhaps as though she didn’t exist. She sauntered toward the refreshment table, pretending indifference. As she passed a group of women, she heard their words, which cut deeply, like swords through her flesh.
“I saw her earlier with Carson, practically undressing the poor man with her eyes.”
“Such a promiscuous woman.”
“The only reason Lord Dorset publicly admitted the tales were untrue was because His Grace paid him to do so.”
“Perhaps we should ask her.”
“Lizzie!” Lady Margaret’s pitchy voice called out to her, and despite every cell in her body begging her not to respond, she slowly turned around. Lady Margaret and her group of young women were simpering directly at her. All had matching fake smiles, and a nasty light in their eyes.
“Yes, Lady Margaret?” Lizzie inquired, forcing a smile.
“Do you have a moment to spare? There is something we must ask you,” Margaret answered, with no regard for correct forms of address.
Margaret was the daughter of a duke, as was Lizzie, but Lady Margaret considered herself a much higher rank and class. She was a spoiled young woman who only used people as she saw fit in order to obtain what she wished, and threw her father’s fortune in everyone’s faces.
“And what might that be?” Lizzie inquired, already knowing what was coming.
“How much did your brother pay Lord Dorset to inform everyone that the tales he told of you were untrue?” Margaret asked, and her group of cronies giggled behind her with their pseudo-shocked expressions.
Lizzie’s eyes narrowed, but she would not allow these women to upset her.
“Perhaps you should stop pretending that you are such a saint, Lady Margaret. We all know what activities you and Lord Niall partake in down at the stables.” Lizzie sighed, annoyed at herself for stooping so low as to match Lady Margaret’s nastiness.
Lady Margaret raised a brow and crossed her arms. “And this comes from a woman who spends more time on her back than anyone else in Somerset?”
“As opposed to bent over a hay bale?” Lizzie countered.
Lady Margaret expelled a gasp and shook her head. “Is Carson aware of your dalliances? Surely, he would not want you if he were to find out about you and Lord Quinton. His mother—”
“Do not dare speak of things of which you have no knowledge,” Lizzie exploded. “Every single tale Lord Dorset has spread of me is false. I am not a promiscuous woman, but I do not require anyone to believe me. I don’t give a fig what anyone thinks of me, least of all you. You know nothing of life, and I pity you more than anything.”
As Margaret’s eyes widened in shock, Lizzie whirled around and moved to the refreshment table. She grabbed a bottle of wine, not caring in the least how unladylike she appeared, and stomped out of the ballroom toward the terrace. She rushed down the narrow steps and disappeared into the night, still clutching the wine.
Chapter Two
CARSON MADE HIS WAY through the ballroom, leaving the whispers of the gossips behind. He had witnessed the verbal confrontation between Lizzie and Lady Margaret along with her group of ignorant and judgemental ladies. In his opinion, that term was not even accurate. They were anything but ladies. They were cruel and unkind.
He had not imagined, however, that Lizzie would ever speak such harsh truths to Lady Margaret, or anyone else, for that matter. She was clearly fed up with Lady Margaret, and perhaps everything that she had been going through had finally caught up with her.
He had known of the situation that involved Lizzie and Lord Dorset, but after a lengthy discussion with Will, he knew there was no truth to the rumours being spread, much to his great relief. He could not bear the thought of Lizzie being with another man, especially not one with such a devious reputation as Lord Dorset.
He’d had feelings for Lizzie since he was a boy, but he had never said anything to her, as he was certain he would never measure up. She was the daughter of a duke, and despite his own family’s reputation and status, he was convinced that she was much too good for him. She deserved to be courted by a man with a title, not someone like him. A nobody.
It had pained him through the years as he watched her be courted by young gentlemen, but he had managed to remain silent. He’d kept his feelings to himself, and all this time he had been convinced it was better this way. But he had spent many of his nights thinking of Lizzie and imagining what his life would have been like had he possessed the courage to make his feelings known, and the ability to offer her the position and title in life that she truly deserved.
There had been times when he had almost spoken up. Times when he imagined declaring how he felt, and discovering that title and position did not matter. However, the thought of her rejecting him was one of his worst fears.
And truly, she did deserve the best.
Despite his general confidence in life, it was becoming increasingly more difficult to think about the woman whom he’d loved for most of his existence living a happy life without him.
The cool night air brushed against his face as he stepped onto the terrace and caught sight of Lizzie, who steadily stomped toward the stable block, clutching the bottle of wine she had pilfered from the refreshment table. He had never seen her act as erratically as she had tonight, but he didn’t blame her in the least. He was uncertain of exactly what Lady Margaret had said to her, but it had to have been rather upsetting for her to retaliate in such an impulsive manner.
Carson descended the narrow set of stairs that led to the side of the manor house, and in the distance, watched Lizzie disappear into the stable building, which also held the hayloft. She left the door to the building ajar, allowing him access a few moments later.
The space was dark, but numerous beams of bright moonlight shone through the openings of the loft above his head, illuminating the inside of the stables in a silver light. Carson stepped inside and immediately noticed Lizzie seated on a bale of hay. The expression on her beautiful face was sad as she glanced down at the open bottle of wine. Her shoulders were slumped and there was an air of defeat about her that he could not reconcile with the Lizzie he knew.
As he took a step closer, the door banged behind him. He froze as Lizzie jumped, before glancing up at him.
Carson held his hands up apologetically. “My apologies, my lady.”
“No need to apologize.” Lizzie sighed. “And it’s Lizzie, not my lady. You know that. What are you doing here, Carson?”
