Bachelors of Bond Street, page 1
Bachelors of Bond Street
Shana Galen
Janna MacGregor
Minerva Spencer
Bachelors of Bond Street
Copyright © 2019 by Shana Galen, Janna MacGregor, Minerva Spencer
How to Brew a Perfect Kiss
Copyright © 2019 by Shana Galen
Love by the Letters
Copyright © 2019 by Janna MacGregor
A Second Chance for Love
Copyright © 2019 by Minerva Spencer
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Bachelors of Bond Street
Love by the Letters | Janna MacGregor
Love by the Letters
Dedication
One | A perfect autumn day | London, 1817
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight | Three months later | St. Aulyn Apartments above The Hungry Mind Bookshop | London
About the Author
Also by Janna MacGregor
How to Brew a Perfect Kiss | The Survivors: a Novella | Shana Galen
How to Brew a Perfect Kiss
Acknowledgments and Dedication
One | London 1817
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Excerpt
About the Author
Also by Shana Galen
A Second Chance for Love | Minerva Spencer
A Second Chance for Love
One | London 1817
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Epilogue | Ten Years Later | London
Excerpt
About the Author
Also by Minerva Spencer
Cover Design by The Killion Group, Inc.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
Love by the Letters
Janna MacGregor
Love by the Letters
Miss Portia Bellingham, a wealthy merchant’s daughter, wants her sister’s eighteenth birthday to be the best-ever. She’s ensuring it’s spectacular by giving her sister the ultimate gift—her heart’s desire. Portia is convinced she’ll never find her own true match, but she’ll do anything for her sister including crafting a love letter, one that Portia pours her heart and soul into. She’ll even personally deliver it to her sister’s secret beau. But something goes horribly wrong when she slips the love note to the wrong man, the dashing Bond Street bookstore owner, Mr. Gabriel St. Aulyn. Desperate to get the note back, Portia changes her identity, then risks everything, even her heart.
Could finding your heart’s desire be that easy?
Believing in fate, Gabriel can’t help but be intrigued when the mysterious Portia Belmont repeatedly comes to the store asking for research help. But soon he suspects she’s there for something else when he finds her in his storage room, then his bedroom. But Gabriel can’t be angry when he discovers her true identity—not when they share so many common interests, namely books and all those delicious kisses. When he comes upon the love letter by accident, there’s only one thing to do—ask Portia to marry him. But love never comes easy, especially when it’s revealed the letter wasn’t intended for Gabriel, and Portia’s betrothed to someone else. Will both decide to push fate aside and take this chance for a love that comes only once a lifetime?
Dedication
For Corinne DeMaagd
One
A perfect autumn day
London, 1817
“How are you going to write a letter that will change the Earth’s orbit, not to mention your world forever, if you don’t have a quill?” Portia Bellingham couldn’t help but grin at her younger and only sister, Beatrix Bellingham, who just happened to be turning eighteen tomorrow.
“I had it earlier,” Beatrix exclaimed as she stood from Portia’s desk. “Where could I have left my portable writing desk? It contained my quill and seal inside.”
“Probably the last place you had it,” Portia teased. “You may use my mine.” She walked to Bea who sat at the desk in Portia’s bedroom then opened a drawer. Inside, perfectly arranged, were her lucky quill, sharpener, ink, and all the accompaniments for sealing a letter.
Bea settled into the chair. “I’m nervous.”
“Darling, this is a momentous occasion.” Portia bent and hugged her sister. “It’s only natural. You’re eighteen tomorrow, and tonight, you’re writing a love letter to the man you want to spend the rest of your life with. Now, leave it to me.”
Bea nodded.
Portia took a deep breath. She’d written these words so many times she had them memorized. Her gift to her sister were the sentiments she’d hoped to give to her very own love, but after three failed Seasons, the likelihood that she’d find such a man were nil. The balls and social events had been pure torture. She had spent years in the vile pit of society, and she wouldn’t allow Bea to suffer the same. Anything Portia could do to safeguard her sister from the humiliating ravages of a Season, she’d do in a heartbeat.
Though her family was richer than the majority of the ton combined, she and Bea would never be considered their social equals. Not when their father was a merchant, albeit a very successful one at that.
“Are you certain you want to help me?” Bea’s voice quivered slightly.
Portia nodded without any hesitation. “Now, let’s begin.” She waited as Bea dipped Portia’s writing instrument into the ink, blotted, then poised the quill over the foolscap.
“My dearest love,
Every time I press my quill against the paper, I think of pressing my fingertips against your lips, your cheeks, your bare chest, and so many other places as I learn what pleases you. Does my boldness shock you? Hopefully not, and you’ll continue to read more.”
Bea gasped. “Portia, that’s almost scandalous.”
“Do you want me to stop?” Portia waited as Bea reread the words. When her sister looked up with an impish grin and shook her head, Portia continued.
“I long for the day when I can look into your beautiful eyes and know that you see me and my love—the real me with my heart in my outstretched hands for you to hold in your safekeeping forever. Will you love me as much in the future as I love you now?”
Bea lifted the quill off the paper, then dipped it back in the inkwell. “I think I might cry.”
Portia laughed. “Do not even think of such a thing. Your tears will make the ink run.”
“I ache for the sweet taste of your lips against mine. It is a lie that absence makes the heart grow fonder. The truth is that every minute of the day my heart grows more amorous and attached to yours. Not a civilized man alive would call that fondness. It is wild, unkept, and untamable.
It is love.”
Bea stopped writing and bent her head.
“Are you all right?” Portia placed her hand on her sister’s shoulder.
Bea nodded, then tilted her head until she met her gaze. “That’s just so beautiful. I hope you find him.”
Portia didn’t answer as her heart fluttered in her chest. She had yearned for adventure and love. There was a time when she believed deep down that she’d find the man of her dreams. Over the years, such wishful thinking diminished like a tide stealing a child’s sandcastle. In its wake, only a barren beach remained. There was no such man. That was the truth of Portia’s love life.
But she found comfort in saying her precious words aloud for her sister.
It was enough. It had to be.
She cleared her throat and softened her voice.
“When we meet for the first time after you’ve read the words that come straight from my heart, how shall you address me? Your ‘beloved,’ as I hope and pray, or something vile like a ‘bothersome gnat’?
If the latter, I’ll be gone from your life forever.
If the former, then kiss me and take me in your arms. Cherish me as I cherish you. Hold me through the night. When day breaks, we shall ignore it and pretend the nightingales are still serenading us.”
Soon, the letter was finished. Bea sanded it, then put away the quill and inkwell. “I love you, sister mine.” She stood, then reached for Portia’s hand. “This will be the best birthday ever.” Her eyes widened. “Wait! I forgot. Father and I got you something.”
She rushed over to Portia’s dressing room and brought out a large box.
“This is for me? It’s your birthday,” Portia said. She walked to the bed were Bea proudly placed the box. “Our father who hates shopping went with you?”
Bea nodded. “Open it. He picked it out.”
“What is this about?” Portia studied Bea. The excitement in her sister’s voice was undeniable, but something wasn’t right. It was completely out of character for their father to shop. He never gave a fig about fashion.
“Seriously, Portia. Don’t be so suspicious.” Bea wiggled her nose. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“Only if it’s not a Trojan horse.” Portia lifted the lid, then she covered her mouth with her hand in awe. Inside was an exquisite ivory gown with an overlay of peach-colored lace. It was the most beautiful gown she’d ever seen, let alone owned. “It’s magnificent.”
“Just like you. You never know when you’ll need the perfect dress.” Bea hugged her. “But when the occasion arises, you’ll look like a princess.”
“If I have anywhere to wear it. I’m not going through another Season. I can’t accept this.” Her gaze shot to her sister. “Does father have a suitor in mind for me?”
Bea puckered her mouth in a moue of displeasure. “Heavens, no.”
“He’s not desperate to marry me off?” she countered.
“Portia, dearest, Father is just being thoughtful.”
After a moment she allowed herself to relax. Maybe she was reading more into the kind gesture than she should be.
“I want to see you in it,” Bea said.
She tried it on with Bea’s help. She didn’t look like a princess. In her opinion, she looked like a queen in the beautiful gown and felt like one, too.
With the letter in hand, Bea said a quick goodnight and returned to her own room.
Portia carefully slipped off the beautiful gown, then put it away. After finishing her nightly ablutions, she climbed into bed and sighed. Soon, the city’s quiet murmurings settled for the night.
Portia’s gift to Bea was to set her sister’s courtship in motion, ensuring her sister’s future happiness would soon be secure. With a light heart, she closed her eyes. Tomorrow, she’d accompany Bea to find the love of her sister’s life, then she would secretly deliver the special letter to Bea’s beau. If he wasn’t interested, at least Bea had tried.
But deep down, Portia had every confidence that romance, an everlasting one, was in the air tomorrow for her sister. Portia silenced the small pang of envy that had crept into her musings.
It would be enough for her romantic heart to witness her sister’s success in true love since Portia would never experience the same.
THE NEXT MORNING, PORTIA stood on one side of Bond Street directly across from The Greedy Vicar pub house with her excited sister by her side, waiting for Bea’s potential beau, Mr. Hugh Merritt.
“There he is.” Bea discreetly waved her fan at two gentlemen leaving the pub, walking side by side. “He’s the one with the cerulean morning coat.”
A sudden gust of wind loosened one pesky wave of Portia’s mahogany hair, blocking her vision. The recalcitrant tress had a mind of its own. Quickly, she stuffed it behind one ear.
Portia tilted her head and blinked twice. “They’re both wearing blue coats.”
“He’s the handsome one.” Bea huffed a sigh. “Really, Portia, have you had your eyes examined lately? Perhaps you need a new pair of spectacles.” Bea’s voice turned dreamy. “He’s just as I described. Tall, elegant, and perfect.”
The two men were both handsome in their own way, but one was a little taller than the other and his visage more pleasing than the other in Portia’s humble opinion. Which meant there was no need for new spectacles. “I see him.”
Bea’s face brightened into a smile that made her simply beautiful. “How will I ever repay you for this?”
“There is no need.” Portia squeezed her little sister’s hand. “This is my gift to you.”
Bea nodded with a tight smile. “I found my perfect match. And after today, he’ll know my deep regard.” Tears welled in her eyes. “You are the best sister I could have ever asked for.” Bea leaned in, then kissed Portia on the cheek. “I know there’s someone perfect for you out there,” she whispered.
Portia felt her own eyes grow misty from the affection in her sister’s words. After their mother had died, Portia had always been Bea’s stalwart defender and had relished the role of guiding Bea to adulthood. Besides sisters, they were best friends.
“Perhaps, someday,” Portia answered. “However, Mother is looking down on us both and smiling. She would have wanted this for you.”
“She always loved our birthdays.” Bea sniffed. “But she wanted you to marry first.”
“Sometimes we don’t get what we want. So, we change our expectations. I want this for you.” Portia wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. “All right then, I’ve work to do.” She returned her attention to the two men. “Look there. They’re stepping into the book shop. That should make it easy enough.”
Bea squinted in the direction Portia waved. “After you’ve delivered it, we’ll wait for a moment and see if he approaches. At the end of the letter, I asked him to step outside.” She let her fan dangle from her wrist while she clasped her hands tightly together. “I might expire from the excitement of waiting. What if he doesn’t want a thing to do with me?”
“Then he’s a fool,” Portia soothed. “Remember, you’ve met him before, and you said he was quite attentive.”
Bea nodded hesitantly.
“He took a turn around the Serpentine in Hyde Park with you,” she reminded her sister gently. Though Portia hadn’t attended the walk that day, their loyal lady’s maid, Hortense Fox, had been beside Bea. When they’d returned home, Bea had regaled Portia with the story, then again once daily since that fated day.
Bea dipped her head modestly. “And chatted the entire time. He seemed genuinely interested in me.”
“Of course, he was interested. You’re stunning but, more importantly, you’re kind.” Portia clasped her sister’s shoulders. “This is your future. Whether he courts you or not isn’t something we can control. But we can at least let him know that you’d welcome his attention.”
“You are brilliant. All that book learning has served you well.” Bea stood on tiptoes and peeked over Portia’s shoulder. “Now, be off with you and good luck.”
“Happy birthday, darling,” Portia said affectionately, then crossed the street, mindful of the carriages passing and the men lounging idly as they watched the world go by. Hortense stood guard at Bea’s side, but Portia could feel her gaze following her as she entered the bookstore.
Not a single soul was in the shop. Only the bell mounted on the door jingled a greeting at her entrance. Portia smoothed her pelisse as she looked around the aisles of books stacked neatly in their shelves, as if inviting her to peruse their titles. The smell of leather and paper wafted around her. She took a deep breath. It was her favorite fragrance—new books. She longed to trace her hands along the spines of the volumes as she meandered the stacks. But now was not the time for such luxury; she had to deliver Bea’s letter.
She turned her attention to the rest of the shop, then smiled to herself.
All the stars, moons, and planets had aligned perfectly in this moment. Her sister’s beau was nowhere in sight, but his morning coat lay neatly folded on the shop’s counter in invitation. She recognized the exquisite cut of the coat that had set off his figure admirably. Without hesitating, Portia walked the small distance. After a quick glance around to see if anyone watched her movements, she slipped the love letter into the hidden pocket in the tails of the blue wool coat. She skated her hand across the pocket’s silk lining while the tantalizing fragrance of cedar and mossy woods wafted toward her. Her earlier thought on new books being her favorite scent quickly dispersed. She inhaled and closed her eyes. Bea’s potential beau had one thing in his favor. He smelled divine.
“May I help you?” The resonance of a deep, forbidding baritone surrounded her.
For a moment, she froze with her hand in the coat pocket. Slowly, with her back turned to the man, she carefully slipped her hand free from the garment, hoping he hadn’t noticed the slight movement. With a graceful turn, she faced him. “Do you work here?”
