The Duke Wins a Bride, page 1
The Duke Wins a Bride Ebook Edition
Copyright © 2022 by Nina Jarrett. All rights reserved.
Published by Rogue Press
Editing by Katie Jackson
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form by any means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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For more information, contact author Nina Jarrett. www.ninajarrett.com
THE DUKE WINS A BRIDE
INCONVENIENT BRIDES
BOOK ONE
NINA JARRETT
CONTENTS
Prologue
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
Epilogue
Afterword
To Redeem an Earl: Prologue
To Redeem an Earl: Chapter One
To Redeem an Earl: Chapter Two
About the Author
More Books by Nina Jarrett
To the amazing Mr. Jarrett:
Sixteen years ago we met and fifteen days later we married on a train platform with a license obtained the day before.
Taking a leap of faith with you was the most important decision I ever made. You have taught me kindness, supported my dreams, and caused me endless embarrassment by crowing my achievements to every pair of ears you encounter. You inspired the confidence I needed to write, so this book, in its entirety, is dedicated to you.
PROLOGUE
1818, LATE SUMMER
Annabel pressed her face against the mullioned windows facing the stable yard. She squinted to make out the figure riding up from the woods, frowning in confusion as she confirmed it was her betrothed, Richard Balfour. The Earl of Saunton had arrived early by at least an hour.
It was her rare use of this south-facing bedchamber that had allowed her to witness his early arrival. She had been exhibiting an uncharacteristic flash of vanity, twirling her new muslin day dress as she admired her reflection in the mirror. The embroidered gold flowers on the delicate ivory fabric suited her coloring and made her look softer … perhaps even pretty.
“You are no English rose, girl. I wonder if I will ever be able to marry you off.” Annabel shook her head to clear her father’s vitriol from her thoughts. He was wrong. An actual earl wanted to marry her. Richard was her true love, and he saw her as pretty and captivating. He had stated as much when he had courted her before asking for her hand in marriage.
Chewing her lip, she tried to figure out what to do about her betrothed’s early arrival.
“You are a hoyden, girl. No gentleman wants to marry a girl who rides in breeches.” Annabel again pushed back her father’s caustic remarks. Richard liked to race her, and he had asked her to marry him while they had been out riding on the estate in those buckskin breeches. When he had inherited his earldom a handful of years ago, he had met plenty of debutantes in London. As a handsome and wealthy member of the peerage, he could have any young lady he desired—and he wanted her. To be chosen by him was the fulfillment of her dreams from the best part of the past decade. She was just nineteen and had never even had a Season, but she was preparing to marry the man she loved in just two more months. She was a success despite the baron’s dire predictions.
Annabel glanced around the guest chamber at all the beautiful dresses of her trousseau. She would embark on her new life soon, managing the earl’s household the way she desired and working with Richard to provide a school to his tenants’ children. They would start a family. Her father, the baron, would be tolerated, but an insignificant part of her new life. Perhaps her brother might even come home and take her seriously as a married noblewoman. The future was so bright. Not every daughter of the aristocracy got to marry her one true love.
Annabel caught herself dallying and hurried downstairs to meet him.
Thirty minutes had passed and still Richard had not called at the front door. Perhaps he was conversing with the stable master. However, it was Gibbons’ afternoon off, so it was unlikely he would be in the stables when he could take advantage of such a fine day.
Annabel considered visiting the kitchens to forewarn the housekeeper that someone should bring tea as soon as Richard appeared. Then she would cut through the kitchen gardens and head to the stables to meet him. Her mind made up, Annabel set off to the servants’ staircase.
It was about fifteen minutes later when Annabel entered the dim interior of the stables, her nose tickled by the fresh scent of hay as she made her way down the stalls looking for Richard. She startled as she heard a strange moaning, like a cat keening in pain. Horses nickered in protest as she hurried forward to the end stall to see what was making the strange sound, her slippers soundless on the hard-packed ground. She peered into the stall and then … then her heart stopped in a painful spasm. Strange, the blood was rushing and pounding in her ears so loudly she was sure she would go deaf. How could one’s heart stop and blood pound at the same time, she wondered to herself in a daze. As if from a great distance, Annabel observed that she had entered a state of mild shock and took a deep breath to compose herself.
Caroline from the kitchens was bent over, leaning on the outer wall, and wailing indecently as Richard pounded into her. His buckskins were down around his knees and covering his riding boots, but Annabel was spared the indignity of looking on his naked buttocks by the tailcoat he wore that billowed back and forth. Growing up around horses and the animal husbandry texts within their well-stocked library, she had a fair idea of what her inexperienced eyes were beholding, and she did not believe it was suitable behavior for a man whose wedding was only weeks away. Not suitable at all!
Something tore within Annabel’s chest. She suspected it was her innocence shattering as her heart broke into pieces. Her life would be forever altered.
Caroline suddenly shrieked, followed a few seconds later by a loud groan from Richard as he collapsed forward to pant against the wall. Annabel startled back into the moment. An eerie calm descended on her as a bitter numbness spread through her limbs, accompanied by a strange, frantic energy that made her breathing quick and shallow.
“I apologize for my interruption, but I have a couple of things to say.”
Everyone flinched in surprise, including Annabel herself. Richard and Caroline fumbled to right their clothing before turning to stare at her. Annabel realized she was the one who had spoken out loud. It would appear she was taking charge of the situation.
She looked to Caroline, who stared at her before bursting into loud sobs. Regretful tears streamed down her face. Annabel noted, with an odd sense of detachment, that it was not an attractive look as she continued to search for her own wits.
“I am so sorry, miss!” wailed the distraught maid.
Annabel drew a deep breath. “Caroline, I have known you since we were both young girls. You have been a member of our household for many years now. It is with great regret I must inform you that your services are no longer required.” The girl’s sobbing grew louder, a great noisy caterwauling that was rather unappealing.
You are in shock, Annabel. Your behavior is odd. Get this over with.
“Because of our long acquaintance, I would bid you to go see Mrs. Harris to request a character reference based on how you have executed your duties, the current circumstances notwithstanding. Inform her I would like her to assist you in finding a place in a new household as soon as possible. I will be along shortly to sign the reference. You are to depart Baydon Hall by the end of the week.”
Caroline stopped sobbing, her blonde curls hanging limp after the storm of tears. She looked at Annabel with astonishment. “You would give me a reference?”
“Consider it an act of kindness. I detest the necessity of this conversation, but neither will I see you destitute, despite your disloyalty and lack of moral compass. I suggest you take me up on it before I change my mind. However, I do require something from you, Caroline.”
“Yes, miss?”
“How long have you and Lord Saunton been … meeting in the stables?” Richard made a choking sound as Caroline’s face reddened in shame.
“You mean meeting in the stables?” the maid clarified.
“Indeed. The emphasis is on meeting, not stables.”
The maid looked down, shamefaced, to stare at the toes of her shoes. “About
“What’s that?”
Caroline squirmed. “About two months.”
“Here in the stables?”
“See here, is this really necessary?” interjected Richard.
Annabel turned to glare at him. He immediately relented, staring in abashed fascination at the hay scattered on the ground beneath his boots.
“Caroline, here in the stables?” she repeated.
The maid nodded, keeping her face averted to the floor. “Usually. I would come wait here for him on days he was to visit, and he would arrive early, with the woods at the back to cover his approach, so no one would know what time he arrived.”
Annabel’s fingers and toes felt icy with shock as she digested this information. “Hurry along. Lord Saunton and I have private matters to discuss.” She shooed the girl out, gesturing toward the stall door as she stepped aside.
The maid rushed out in apparent relief. Annabel did not blame her. She wished she could rush out and pretend she had not witnessed—nor heard—the past few minutes. Return in time and be back in the guest chamber trying on her trousseau—and this time fail to glance out the window. If she attempted to comprehend all the consequences of this moment, she felt it would tear her physically limb from limb. Her dreams for the future were lost. Her entire life changed in a matter of minutes.
Drawing a fortifying breath, Annabel turned to look at Richard. She was not certain what emotion she had expected to find on his face. Shame? Sheepishness? Tears would be nice. A fitting response to celebrate her loss of naïveté and the rending of their love. It was unexpected to find him scowling in defiance. He appeared to be blushing, at least.
“I believed a contemptuous father and an indifferent brother were the worst influences I had to contend with. Yet I discover a beloved’s face can disguise a more awful character than anything I could have postulated before this day.”
“I never promised you love.”
Annabel considered for a moment and knew she could not deny it. “You are right. You said I was pretty, captivating, even. You said I was one of the most interesting people you had met. Our long acquaintance, coupled with the marriage proposal and sentiments you voiced, all misled me into believing you loved me.”
“I do love you, in a way. Just not the way you mean.”
“But it is the way that matters! To me!” With that, her calm shattered, and tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks.
“Annabel, this changes nothing. I care for you very much. I want to make you my wife, any way you see fit. As my countess, you will have more freedom than this tiny world your father forces you to live in. It will be good for you.”
“This changes everything! Our love? That was the most important part to me! I thought we would be partners, taking on life’s challenges together. That we would make each other strong. That you were strong. But you are a weak man driven by base desires. If I do not help that stupid, naïve girl find a new place, what will happen to her?”
“She is a grown woman who made her own decisions.” Richard’s defiance had returned.
Annabel shook her head in disbelief. Just how many women had Richard been attending to since their betrothal had begun?
“I shall let the baron know to cancel our wedding. I could rail or scream, but I am not even sure where to begin. Good day, my lord.” She turned to leave.
“Annabel.” Richard grasped her arm. She looked back and found his expression belligerent, his stance stubborn. “I have no intention of allowing you to break the betrothal.”
“What!” Her composure was forgotten as her jaw dropped.
“I want to marry you. Your father will agree with me. The baron will not pass up the opportunity to be closely connected to an earl. It saddens me you saw what you did today, but the wedding will proceed. The matter is out of your hands.”
Annabel stared at him in wordless dismay. Tearing her arm out of his hand, she lifted her skirts and set off at a run to find her father.
CHAPTER 1
EARLY AUTUMN, APPROXIMATELY ONE MONTH AFTER THE STABLE INCIDENT
Josiah Ridley scowled at his daughter. “He is an earl, you ungrateful girl!” he bellowed. Catching himself, Lord Filminster lowered his voice. “My heartfelt regrets on finding your betrothed in a compromising situation, but this marriage will elevate our entire family within society. It will improve the chances of your brother making a better match. The wedding will proceed, Annabel. I will not discuss it yet again. It is time for you to accept it!”
Annabel, much to her shame, stamped her foot in anger. It was pointless as she was wearing slippers and standing on a thick, blue and yellow Aubusson rug which absorbed all audible evidence of the futile foot stomping. “This is important! I cannot marry a man who engages in carnal relations, with our kitchen maid no less, only weeks before our wedding!”
The baron bent his balding pate as he returned to his ledgers. “You chose him to be your husband, and I signed the contracts. I will not allow you to cancel the wedding with the earl. It has been set in place for months. He will advance our family’s social status, and I will not alter this course over a minor indiscretion. It is unfortunate that you had to witness his depravity, and Lord Saunton should learn more discretion to save himself from future feminine vapors such as those you have plagued me with for the past month. Good day, Annabel.”
Annabel’s mouth fell open at her abrupt dismissal. Her father scribbled in one of his ledgers, clearly indicating that the discussion was over and her presence was no longer of note. Was she mad to think Richard’s behavior was unacceptable, or was her father so ambitious to improve his standing in society that he felt nothing about committing her to a miserable lifetime with a faithless rake for a husband?
She stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
Her father’s muffled shout reached her as she fumed in the timbered corridor. “And change into proper attire, young lady! Breeches are for menfolk!”
Annabel swallowed a scream of frustration, her heart pounding so hard she felt it would burst right out of her ribs as she leaned back against the ancient marquetry to compose herself. After arguing with her father yet again, she had to reconsider her options. Her brother may or may not have helped her out of this predicament, but he was off gallivanting in London with no expectations of his return. Pleading her case would probably have no effect on him. Dearest brother Brendan had not visited her in four years, so it was doubtful he would help her even if she tracked him down, nor was she certain he would agree with her on the matter. Richard Balfour was one of Brendan’s closest friends, so it would be unappealing to him to intervene. Writing to him, if she could even find out where he was, seemed utterly pointless.
She had attempted a private discussion with her aunt who had visited this week past. She had snorted at Annabel’s naïveté, scolded her for discussing improper topics, and changed the subject to the trousseau. It was clear the baron’s sister would be of no aid in this situation.
With every passing day, the wedding grew closer, like a spectral figure waiting in the shadows to harvest her very soul. Annabel stared sightlessly at the colorful medieval tapestries hanging on the opposite wall, chewing on her bottom lip in anxiety and racking her brain for a solution.
As she reflected on the trying month since The Stable Incident, she grimaced at the parade of emotions she had displayed. After her father confirmed Richard’s prediction, she had taken to her room for nearly two days to nurse her broken heart. When she had tired of weeping, she had an epiphany. Her heart could not truly be broken as she had never known the real Richard, just a masquerade of a charming gentleman that smiled, laughed, and paid her attentions. If she had never met the genuine man, could she have ever truly loved him? Common sense said no. It must have been the idea of Richard that had infatuated her. Awareness of that peculiar distinction was the impetus to rise from her bed and plot to prevent the wedding.
