Married to the Lord (The Wallflower Brides Book 2) Read online

  Married to the Lord

  Samantha Holt

  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 Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  © 2019 Samantha Holt

  All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.

  Edited by Dom’s Proofreading

  Proofed by Destini Reece and Em Petrova

  Cover art by Book Wizz

  Chapter One

  If Augusta crossed her eyes just so, the dancers before her became a rather amusing blur of colors and movement. Their arms and their feet no longer seemed to move elegantly to the music, and glittering jewels and feathers appeared nothing more spectacular than something one would wear every day.

  She uncrossed her eyes and glanced down at the jewels glittering on her wrist. Of course, she was not lacking in emeralds or flowers or expensive fabrics but what a waste they were. Henry was not even here; nor would he be. She was beginning to doubt her erstwhile fiancé would ever return for her, despite the promises of his family. Two years and no wedding date.

  She blew out a breath. She was beginning to look foolish indeed. And the fact this was her friend Chloe’s engagement ball just made things worse. Only a few months ago, Chloe had been as much a wallflower as her. She was happy for Chloe, of course, but she couldn’t deny the news created this little gremlin of jealousy inside her that she wished she could rid herself of.

  She was about to cross her eyes again when she caught Joanna Lockhart looking at her with a bemused expression. Augusta gave an apologetic shrug. “It makes watching the dancing a little less dull.”

  Joanna’s lips quirked. She mimicked Augusta, crossing her eyes so that she looked mightily odd. She uncrossed them and grinned. “So it does. Though, Lady Thornbury just spotted me doing it and I do not think she is impressed.”

  Augusta giggled. Joanna was beautiful and accomplished and had been snapped up as soon as she had debuted—and was certainly the least likely to cross her eyes. But while she was in mourning, there was no dancing for her—leaving her at Augusta’s side and likely horribly bored. Augusta was fairly used to not dancing but apparently Joanna had been popular amongst the ton indeed during her time.

  To the left of Augusta, Chloe leaned in. “Are you laughing at Sir Percival’s dancing or was something else amusing you?”

  Augusta had not even noticed Sir Percival’s dancing. She supposed that is what happened when one watched the dancing through crossed eyes. She turned her attention to the older man, whose arms and legs were as gangly as sticks and seemed to flail about like the ribbons on a maypole. Pressing her lips together as she watched him, she shook her head. “Poor Miss Humphries. It almost makes me glad I have not been asked to dance at all.”

  “Should you not be dancing, Chloe? It is your engagement ball after all,” Joanna asked.

  Chloe made a face. “You know I loathe dancing and Brook is with his mother at present. I’d rather be in the library.” She peered around. “In fact, I might escape soon. Far better than dancing.”

  Augusta nodded vaguely but she was not certain she agreed. Though she did not much enjoy large gatherings, dancing could be fun and was a fine way to pass the time.

  Unfortunately, it was rare she was invited to dance. Whether it was her engagement to Henry, her painful shyness, or her slightly plain looks, she was not certain. Perhaps it was just a culmination of them all. Either way, she lamented that this was what her life had become.

  When Henry had proposed to her, she had envisaged a life much more exciting than this. If only she was a little bit braver. Then perhaps she could wear feathers and jewels and bright colors and attract the attention of someone else. Maybe that would teach Henry a lesson.

  Joanna gave an audible sigh. Augusta grimaced to herself. If she thought her life was terrible, what did poor Joanna think? Her husband had died suddenly and without warning after a brief marriage only recently. No doubt she was missing him.

  Augusta leaned over and tapped the back of her hand gently. “Would you like to talk about it?”

  A gentle smile curved Joanna’s lips. “I feel I have talked of Noah’s death endlessly. Look, everyone is avoiding me as though I have some kind of plague.”

  “Well, we are here,” pointed out Chloe.

  Joanna gave their friend a look. “For now.”

  Chloe did her best to avoid balls at all costs, which was why it rather puzzled Augusta how she had ended up with a man like Brook who seemed to enjoy them so much. However, he was clearly besotted with her and she with him. Somehow, it worked.

  Unlike her and Henry.

  At this point, she might consider joining Chloe too. Every time she stepped into one of these events, she felt every set of eyes in Hampshire upon her. Oh, how everyone stared. Poor Miss Snow. Abandoned by her fiancé who was goodness knows where, doing goodness knows what. Last she heard he was in Spain. Her only letter from him had come all the way from some country that she had been forced to look up on the map. Only since the war finished did anyone go on The Grand Tour but it was rare an engaged man did so. And never for more than two years. She was beginning to look extremely silly indeed.

  “I would be better off at home,” Augusta muttered then clapped a hand over her mouth. “Forgive me, Chloe, I did not mean—”

  Chloe snorted. “I would not blame you.”

  Joanna cocked her head and eyed Augusta. “Why on earth would you want to be hidden away?”

  “Because I can feel everyone’s pity.”

  Joanna nodded. “I feel it too.”

  Lord, here she was lamenting her own situation when Joanna’s was far worse. She really needed to stop being so silly. “Joanna—”

  “It is well enough, I promise. It is getting rather tiring, everyone treating me as though I might shatter at the mere mention of my husband.”

  “I very much doubt anyone pities you. You are both beautiful and accomplished women,” Chloe said determinedly.

  Augusta wanted to argue with that declaration. Joanna was indeed beautiful with her fair hair, elegant profile, and curvaceous figure. Augusta could not see the same in herself. Her hair was a rather uninspiring black. It seemed to absorb all the sunlight around her, eating up any kind of glow her skin might have. She was tall—too tall for a woman—and had few curves at all. It took the tightest of stays to ensure she had any cleavage to fill out her gowns. She liked her eyes and her lips but when combined with the dullness of her figure and hair, she did not think she inspired much interest.

  Something, she suspected Chloe never cared much about. Her wildly curly hair was a vibrant red. It looked as though someone had suffered a battle to try to tame it most days. Nevertheless, Chloe was extremely pretty and far mo
re interesting to look at than herself.

  Augusta blew out a breath. All this pitying herself would get nowhere. How many months had passed by as she sat and wondered when Henry would return for her? She watched the many young women be guided across the dance floor, smiles plastered upon their faces. How many were genuine, she did not know, but she imagined many were. All of them shared the same dream—a dream that had been pushed upon them since they were young girls.

  They all just knew they would make their debut and find the perfect man. Many of those girls might even fulfill that dream tonight.

  She herself had fulfilled that dream. And yet it had not come to fruition. Much longer and she would be considered a spinster and upon the shelf. No amount of communication from his family or herself would encourage him to set a date. She balled her hands into fists.

  Why, if she thought about it too much, she would get so…so...so bloody angry. How unfair it was that she should sit here and watch everyone enjoy themselves while she waited for Henry to finish whatever it was he was doing. Why should he have all the fun?

  Straightening her shoulders, she lifted her chin. Perhaps if she made herself look more available, she could find herself a dance partner. It really was time she began to enjoy herself again. If she was to have to wait another couple of years for blasted Henry, she could at least have a little fun.

  Though Augusta tried to catch the eye of several men, none came her way. In fact, the three of them were given a wide berth. She let her shoulders sag. “This is why I prefer horses,” she muttered to herself.

  “And this is why I prefer books,” drawled Chloe.

  “I like people,” sighed Joanna. “Just not at present.”

  A young woman caught Augusta’s eye as she waved frantically from across the room. It took Augusta a moment to recognize her in her rather mature gown and fashionable hairstyle. Miss Worthington hastened over. “Oh, I am so glad you are here. I did not see you tucked away in this corner.” Miss Worthington took Augusta’s hands, forcing her to her feet.

  “I thought it best to…well…” How did one explain that one had resigned oneself to being a wallflower?

  “Did you hear the news? Mr. Rochdale proposed! We are to be wed before the end of summer.”

  Well, at least Augusta did not need to enlighten her friend as to why she was tucked away in the corner of the ballroom. She suspected she could have said almost anything and her friend would not have noticed. She remembered that feeling when Henry had proposed—that giddy, whirly, blurred sensation that meant everything else was dulled. Unfortunately, that feeling had long since passed.

  Forcing a bright smile, Augusta squeezed her friend’s hands. “Yes, I heard. I am so thrilled for you. He seems a good man.”

  Miss Worthington nodded vigorously. “He is such a good man,” she enthused. “Mama and Papa approve of him greatly. After the wedding we shall be honeymooning in Europe and then travelling to his estate in Kent.”

  “Kent?” Augusta echoed.

  “Yes, but of course we shall return to Town for the Season. And Mr. Rochdale has work in Hampshire.” Miss Worthington squeezed Augusta’s hands. “We shall still see each other, I promise.”

  Augusta’s smile wobbled. How many times had she heard such a promise from her friends? Married life took up much of one’s time. Her original circle of friends had changed so drastically and Augusta was left on the outskirts. She understood well enough that becoming a married woman changed one’s life—and she was pleased for her friends, really she was—but she just wished she could join them finally.

  “And I wager by next Season, you shall be wed to. What fun it will be! Two married women. Perhaps we shall even have babies.”

  Augusta could hardly visualize herself married let alone having babies. After Henry proposed, she had spent many a night picturing such things but those imaginings had faded over the past years. Sometimes, she forgot what Henry looked like. She had to look at the little painting she had of him to remind her. If she forgot what he looked like, he had no doubt forgotten her entirely. Did he even recall they were engaged?

  But what was a girl to do? Once one was engaged, they were at the mercy of the man to whom they were engaged. She could not break it off—her parents would be heartbroken and no doubt gossip would circulate to why. It might be better for her to break things off than Henry—or else she would be entirely ruined—but it still left her with few options. She was an only daughter with no plans other than to marry.

  “Do not be sad.” Miss Worthington released Augusta’s hands and cupped her face. “He shall come for you, I am certain of it.”

  Augusta forced her smile back in place. “I’m sure he will.”

  Miss Worthington snapped her head around at the sound of her name being called. “Oh, forgive me, everyone wants to congratulate me. I have never had so many people wish to speak to me in one night.”

  “Go, go,” urged Augusta, shooing her friend away with her hands.

  She paused to watch Miss Worthington disappear into the crowds, biting back what had to be the millionth sigh of the night. She really was over all this moping and waiting. It was high time she did something else with her time. But what?

  She rejoined her friends. “It seems Miss Worthington has some good news. She is engaged to Mr. Rochdale.”

  Joanna nodded. “I had heard. They seem a good match.”

  “I had heard nothing. But I never seem to hear the gossip.” Chloe peered at her nails and began to chew the corner of one. “I cannot even remember who Mr. Rochdale is,” she murmured around the end of her finger.

  “He reminded me a little of Henry. They are the same age.” Augusta frowned. “At least I think they are. It has been so long since I’ve seen the man, it is hard to say.”

  Joanna gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure he shall set a date soon.”

  “I am losing hope of that ever happening.” Augusta straightened. “But in the meantime, I’m determined to spend my time more wisely. All this sitting around the edge of the ballroom is becoming tiresome indeed.”

  Joanna chuckled. “That sounds rather like a vow.”

  “Perhaps it is.” Augusta tilted her head.

  To do lots of things was not in her nature. To talk with people, to dance, to explore all the various things in the world had always seemed so strange to her. She was much more comfortable spending time with just a few people and doing gentle things, such as walking or riding her horses. Solitary pursuits mostly. But those solitary pursuits had only reminded her of her unmarried status. Maybe it was time to change things.

  “Perhaps,” Joanna suggested, “you should show your fiancé what he is missing.”

  Chewing on her bottom lip, Augusta weighed the words. He was not missing much at the moment but could she possibly change? Become one of those vivacious creatures that every man wanted and every woman envied? It seemed almost impossible and, yet, she could not help but want to try.

  “I suppose I could…be a bit more fashionable.” August shrugged. “Mama would not object to new gowns at all.”

  Chloe narrowed her gaze at her. “You are thinking of powdering and primping yourself?”

  “I know it sounds silly—”

  “Not all,” Chloe interrupted. “I think it is a fine idea. Far better than sitting around and waiting for that—” She paused and smiled. “For Henry to return.”

  “I could try to be more confident. Force myself to do more things.”

  “I can certainly help you and, of course, offer my aid as an escort.” Joanna grinned. “We could be seen at all the right places to ensure word of how wonderful you are reaches Henry.”

  Augusta blinked. The plan began to take root in her mind. Somehow, she was going to pull herself away from being a wallflower and show Henry exactly who she was without him. With the help of these two women, it might very well work.

  The smile that began to break across her face froze when her gaze landed on a dark-haired man pushing his
way across the ballroom with a determined look on his face. Her heart gave a little jolt. What was he doing here? He rarely attended events like this.

  His gaze latched onto hers. Her throat tightened. She stood swiftly, turning so that she nearly knocked into one of the chairs, then twisted the other way and bashed into Chloe’s legs.

  “Oh, forgive me. I must…” She could not finish the sentence. Not when he was looming upon her. She moved past Chloe with haste, aware of her calling her name. The room became a blur as she dashed past dancers and doors until she barreled through one and shut it behind her. Pressing her back against the cool wood, she took a deep breath and glanced around at the darkened confines of the empty room. How silly she was but she could not face him.

  It was too humiliating.

  She could not fathom what Henry’s brother might want with her; nor did she want to find out.

  Chapter Two

  Pausing, Miles debated his options. Follow Augusta and confront her as to why she might run from him or give up and turn around. He rotated on his heel. Why he should cause such wide-eyed fright in the petite girl, he did not know, but it was highly likely to do with his brother Henry.

  Bloody Henry.

  If only his damned brother would return and marry the poor girl. Lord knows, she had been waiting long enough.

  He returned to the table where Walsingham and Roberts watched him with amused grins. He sank onto the chair and ignored the smug look in his friends’ eyes.