The Substitute Bride: A historical romance with a spirited Regency heroine Read online

  THE SUBSTITUTE BRIDE

  Dorothy Mack

  Table of Contents

  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 ONE

  Into the vibrating silence came the sudden snapping of a log which fell with a small crash, startling one occupant of the comfortable room into starting nervously. The remaining two persons were so engrossed with each other they took no notice of the noise. The gentleman’s boyish, good-looking countenance wore an unaccustomed expression of mingled wrath and amazement. Except for a lurking twinkle in the eyes of the lady watching him expectantly, her attitude was one of utter calm and self-possession.

  Interpreting that humorous gleam, a reluctant grin appeared briefly, but his voice held nothing but exasperation.

  “No, dash it all, Devil, it is out of the question! You shouldn’t last a sennight and well you know it. Taking care of other people’s brats. It wouldn’t suit you at all.”

  Before the lady addressed by this opprobrious title could respond, the third occupant intervened to protest in a light, sweet voice. “Billy, I do wish you would cease referring to your cousin by that terrible name. It will give people a very odd notion of her indeed.”

  The speaker was seen to be a young woman, pretty in the typically English style, with a pink and white complexion, fair ringlets and light blue eyes which she raised reproachfully to her husband’s suddenly laughing face.

  “On the contrary, I think it gives a very fair notion of her character, but there, love, don’t tease yourself. I would not think of calling her that in the presence of strangers. Shall I call you Angel instead, Angelica, as your besotted father was used to do?”

  The lady thus addressed had unconcernedly returned to her stitchery during this exchange. She looked up now with a hint of a smile. “Do call me anything you like,” she invited cordially. “Whatever seems most appropriate.” Now both eyes and lips smiled a challenge at him.

  Casting an appraising eye over his cousin, the gentleman concluded, not for the first time, that she had been singularly inappropriately named. While there was certainly nothing devilish about her regular but unspectacular assembly of features, a person would be ill judged indeed to assume that her customary serenity of expression betokened an angelic disposition. And those unusual green eyes were distinctly non-angelic witch’s eyes, he mused. Not that there was anything devilish in her character either, despite his teasing words. No one knew better than he that there was no harm in the girl. She was warm-hearted and had a generous kindness for the very old or young or ill. With all this, though, marched an independent spirit and a dislike of convention and formality. She had a mighty free tongue, too, he thought worriedly, and none of these traits fitted her to assume an inferior position in someone else’s household.

  He had cherished a great fondness for her ever since she had arrived with her mother, following the sudden death of her adored father some fourteen years before. From his superior position of eleven years against her mere nine, he had immediately taken the shy, grieving wraith under his protection. She had shared his lessons with his tutor, his horses, his sports and his interests as a brother might have done.

  It would have been better if she had been a boy, he could see now with all the clarity of hindsight. Then Charlotte would have had no cause to resent her presence in their home. He could understand that to his very young bride, the self-possessed young woman some three or four years her senior sharing her household on intimate terms with her husband might represent a challenge to her position as undisputed mistress. He was aware that the two girls shared few interests in common, and after four months of enforced association showed no signs that they could exist on any closer terms than polite forbearance.

  He sighed inwardly. Angelica had had one season in London while his mother and hers were still living, but had formed no attachment there. Indeed, as he recalled, she had barely tolerated society and had been eager to return to the country. She had no fortune but a small annuity which would cease upon her marriage, and she flatly refused to let him provide her with a dowry. In any case, she was hardly likely to contract an eligible match hidden away at Wroxham Court. Neither were there any relatives she could go to. Her position had not chafed until his recent marriage. Still, there must be some better course than hiring herself out as a governess. He could not see that as an acceptable alternative to continuing here with them.

  She had been watching his worried expression while plying her needle industriously and now spoke up briskly.

  “Don’t look so unencouraging, Billy. I am quite looking forward to beginning an adventure on my own. You know I have a fondness for children, and what is more they attend to me. You will recall when the Moretons visited here last year I was the only one who could deal with that little demon, Cecil. Although I confess to being sadly lacking in musical ability, you will allow that in all other respects I am admirably qualified to instruct the young. By the time I have gained some practical experience, you and Charlotte will have set up your nursery, and I can come back and reign over your children,” she finished cheerfully.

  Billy still looked unconvinced, but before he could frame a rebuttal, Charlotte had once more intervened.

  “When Mrs. Edgerton called this morning, she did mention that Lord Desmond has just lost his governess. Mrs. Edgerton’s Miss Pringle is a cousin to the woman who taught Desmond’s daughter, and she says her cousin has had to leave to take care of her mother who has been very ill. You are acquainted with Giles Weston, are you not?” she inquired of her husband.

  “Yes, of course. Known him for years, though he is quite a bit older than I. Used to be a close friend of m’ brother’s, but I don’t think…”

  “Oh, Billy, do you think if you wrote to him Lord Desmond might hire me for the position?” asked Angelica eagerly. “I remember him from that visit he made to Gervaise years and years ago, when we were children. I’m sure he would make an unexceptionable employer.”

  Billy grinned at her. “I’m sure you do remember him, my dear. To the best of my recollection, you followed him around like a Tantony pig after he pulled you out of the lake.”

  “And whose fault was it that I fell into the lake?” she retorted with spirit. “You would insist that you could handle the boat even with all that wind.”

  “And you, of course, were always determined to try anything I could do and never paid the least heed to any hints that your company was not desired.”

  Charlotte’s sweet voice interrupted this recital of earlier peccadilloes in which she had no part.

  “Will you write to Lord Desmond then, Billy?”

  Her husband’s expressive countenance sobered suddenly, and he looked long and intently at his cousin before answering reluctantly, “Yes, if she wishes it.”

  For her part, Angelica met his gaze with her usual equanimity and answered promptly, “Indeed I do wish it.”

  “Very well, I’ll do it tomorrow,” Billy said with resignation, and promptly changed the subject by asking his wife about her visit to one of his cottagers who had fallen from his roof while mending it.


  Angelica sat quietly, her needle never pausing over her work, but she felt drained of all strength. She was grateful to Billy for turning attention away from her, for she needed time to gather her resources for the next step in her plan to remove herself from her cousin’s home without leaving any impression of coercion or ill feeling behind. She bore Charlotte no ill will for her very natural feelings toward her husband’s cousin, and was honest enough to admit that she herself had not been happy about relinquishing the reins of management to another. Since her aunt’s death two years ago, she had been virtual mistress of Wroxham Court despite the presence of an aged spinster relative for propriety’s sake. She suspected ruefully that she must have an odiously managing disposition, a quality very ill-suited to her station in life.

  If only she and Charlotte had been of different temperaments, perhaps they could have contrived to rub along more comfortably together. For Billy’s sake, she must take some step which would allow him to live happily alone with his bride. Apart from marriage with the widowed incumbent of a nearby parish, which certainly did not appeal, she could think of no other solution than to hire herself out as a governess, the only genteel employment open to a female of her station. Her opinion on the desirability of being born a male exactly coincided with that of her cousin.

  She sighed for the opportunities lost through her unfortunate feminine nature, but decided practically to concentrate on preparing herself to become a competent governess. Now that she had made the decision, she was eager to act on it and hoped Billy would soon receive a favourable reply from Lord Desmond. She remembered him with pleasure as a charming man with a friendly smile, who had been kind to his host’s younger brother and cousin. They had tagged after him shamelessly following the rescue, she recalled. Wrinkling her brow in concentration, she tried to remember just when the meeting had occurred.

  “What’s the matter, Devil? Have you changed your mind about seeding a position? A good thing, too, if you have. I still think you totally unfitted for the life of a governess.” Her cousin’s sharp eyes had noted her furrowed brow.

  She chuckled, revealing a solitary dimple at the left corner of her mouth. “No, I am simply trying to recall when we received that visit from Lord Desmond. It was the only occasion when I met him, and I do remember hearing later that same year that he had married.”

  “Let’s see, then it must have been quite ten years ago, because Desmond has been a widower for some six or seven years.”

  “He is engaged to be married,” put in Charlotte unexpectedly.

  “Is that so? Now this is a surprise! I run into him occasionally in London, though I’ve seen little of him since Gervaise died, of course. From what I’ve heard, he has pretty much forsworn your sex, my love, ever since his wife died.”

  “Mrs. Edgerton said Miss Pringle’s cousin wrote that he was affianced to a very beautiful girl, the Earl of Dorset’s elder daughter, I believe.”

  “He must have an eye for beauty. I remember hearing that his wife was one of the Incomparables of her season. Don’t believe I ever met her though. Before my time. Well, as I said, Devil, I’ll write to Desmond in the morning, though it will go against the grain with me to play such a trick on an old friend.” He grinned wickedly at the affronted expression on his cousin’s face and dodged the pillow she threw at him.

  “Never mind,” he said soothingly, “blood being thicker than water, I’ll make you sound like a compilation of all the virtues peculiar to the species governess.”

  Even Charlotte laughed at that, and the talk turned to more general matters.

  A week later, a still bemused Angelica was preparing to bid farewell to her cousin and his wife. The Viscount Desmond had replied with commendable, not to say unnerving promptitude that he would be happy to employ Mr. Wroxham’s cousin, and could she come immediately to his house in London as his situation was rather urgent. Puzzling a bit over this, Angelica threw herself into preparations for leaving the only home she remembered, rather relieved that there was no time to ponder the decision. It had been arranged for her to travel in her cousin’s carriage with Annie, their former nurse, accompanying her. They would put up overnight at one of the better hotels in London, so Angelica could get a good night’s rest and arrive fresh at the viscount’s residence in Grosvenor Square the following morning.

  The inevitable goodbyes were said, and the carriage rolled smoothly down the avenue of still bare chestnut trees, accompanied by the outrider Billy had insisted upon. Her last glimpse of the Court came as they came through the gates onto the road. When the trees were in full foliage, only the chimneys were visible at this point, Angelica thought, as with misty eyes she watched the grey stone house disappear from view.

  She sank back against the corduroy squabs, her face, despite her best efforts, revealing to the woman who knew her intimately some of the desolation she was experiencing at this wrenching apart of her old life. A necessary wrenching, she reminded herself firmly. For Billy’s sake, she must go away and make a life for herself apart from his and Charlotte’s. It had hurt to see his natural brightness of spirit dimming slightly, as he came slowly to the realization that his two loves could not dwell together in true amity. He was as dear to her as the brother she had never had.

  She would find consolation from knowing she was doing the right thing. The faint anxiety that had haunted Billy’s eyes this past week would fade as he read the cheerful, happy letters she was determined to write him.

  At this point in her reflections, she squared her shoulders and sat up straighter, determined to keep her thoughts on the future.

  Neither woman had spoken thus far, but Annie had been covertly studying Angelica, and at this sign that the girl was overcoming her lowness of spirits, she spoke matter-of-factly.

  “When you marry, I shall come to you. Mr. Wroxham would be perfectly willing.”

  Angelica jumped, for she had completely forgotten Annie in her absorption. As the sense of the maid’s words penetrated, her lips twitched and her green eyes lit with amusement.

  “Come now, Annie,” she spoke in a rallying tone, “you speak as if I had only to be seen to be swamped with offers. I have been seen, you must remember, and I was not inundated with proposals of marriage. I am sorry to disappoint you, but at three and twenty I am definitely on the shelf.”

  “Nonsense!” was the brisk retort. “I know what I know, and that Mr. Linders has been angling after you these two years and more. It’s not a manor house, but he has a nice, snug rectory and a private income besides. He may not be a member of the gentry, but he’s quality born and a well-educated gentleman. You could go far and do worse.”

  “Mr. Linders is a very worthy gentleman as you say, Annie, but it is a strange thing — I find myself oppressed by his serious nature. I have always the unworthy desire to say shocking things to rouse him from his gravity. I am sure he secretly believes I have too much levity. In fact, it is my belief that he does not understand me at all, but simply wishes to remarry because he is lonely and a parson needs a wife. Almost any other female would be a better choice than I.”

  Annie was silenced a moment by the serious tone of her mistress’s voice, but eventually she persisted in arguing, “It would be better than working in a nobleman’s house.”

  “No, Annie, believe me: we should not suit at all. At least as a paid employee I will have some independence. There will be times when I am free to do as I please and go where I please. I do not think I have the proper temperament for marriage,” she added thoughtfully, her eyes fixed unseeingly on the piece of tatting in Annie’s busy hands.

  “Nonsense,” came the brisk retort. “You will change your tune when the right man comes along.”

  “Since my non-existent fortune renders me totally ineligible in any case, it is just as well I have never formed the least attachment for any man.”

  At this prosaic remark, Annie pressed her lips firmly together, but allowed the subject to drop. Her heart misgave her when she thoug
ht of what the future might held for the girl. The prospect seemed as bleak to her as the scene through which they were riding. The damp, grey, cold remains of a frigid winter dish spread before them for mile after mile. Neither woman derived any comfort from the unfolding of the still-fallow landscape, and both were relieved when the villages surrounding the city signalled the end of the tedious journey.

  Angelica’s pulses were beating in time to her chaotic mental sensations as the sights, sounds and odours of the city drove all coherent thought from her mind. She had forgotten how alive London made one feel. Now her eyes greedily absorbed the passing scene, and she was almost sorry when they swept up to the large hotel.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Angelica rose very early the next morning, too agitated by the immediate prospect of a fundamental change in her life to remain supine. Her mood hovered between reluctance to cut the last tie to her old existence and eagerness to begin an independent life. Certainly, there must be immense satisfaction in being able to say, “I earn my own living; I owe no one gratitude or humble appreciation for favours bestowed.” She resolutely refused to dwell on the ambiguous status of governesses in general, certainly not of the family nor yet of the household. One day at a time would be her motto, and her optimistic nature foresaw a much more interesting pattern of living in a nobleman’s town house than the quiet country existence she had been used to since her own brief season.

  She was fumbling with the buttons of a demure grey woollen dress made high to the neck, its collar trimmed in the same delicate lace which edged the long tight sleeves, when Annie entered the room to draw back the curtains and stopped, speechless for a second, to see her very much awake.

  “Here, let me do that,” she said, bustling over to her mistress. “Why didn’t you call me, if you must get up at the crack of dawn? Though how a body can sleep with all the noise of this place — carriages and horses going by at all hours — I’m sure I don’t know.”