Runaway Christmas Bride Read online

  Runaway Christmas Bride

  by

  Isabella Hargreaves

  Copyright © Isabella Hargreaves 2017

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Find out more about Isabella Hargreaves and her books at:

  www.isabellahargreaves.com

  Foreword

  With thanks to my wonderful editor, Lauren Clark, and Brian Sinclair and the members of the YON Beyond writing group for their assistance with the editing and beta reading Runaway Christmas Bride.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  About the Author

  Other books by Isabella Hargreaves

  http://www.instafreebie.com/free/LZUvF

  Chapter 1

  22 December 1815

  This couldn’t be happening. Miss Amelia Fortescue looked from one parent to the other and an icy chill flowed through her body. They were matchmaking again! “What are you two planning?” she asked, in a low, controlled voice.

  “You will make him a beautiful bride.” Her mother continued her line of conversation as though unaware of Amelia’s horror.

  “But I don’t know the man!” Amelia swayed in her seat as her father’s ancient travelling coach lurched between the twin stone pillars marking the entrance to Wellworth Park.

  “That will soon be remedied,” her father, Baron Fortescue, said, dismissing her objection with a brusque rustle of the newspaper he held open at a report about a recent curricle race to Brighton, which Amelia knew he had bet upon.

  “Look!” her mother said, pointing out the window.

  Amelia craned her neck to see ahead from her rear-facing position. An expanse of snow-dusted pasture lay beyond the avenue of bare-branched elms through which they drove. Within minutes, the sight of a large and new-built house filled the small carriage window.

  “What an impressive home Wellworth possesses,” her mother prattled on. “You lucky girl. He’s a marvellous catch.”

  “Indeed,” her father agreed. Having finally finished reading his newspaper he entered the conversation fully. “I’m looking forward to Christmas here.”

  Her parents exchanged a meaningful look.

  “I’ve heard his house is furnished from Sheraton’s latest catalogue and holds prize-winning artworks,” Amelia’s mother purred.

  Do furnishings matter when I don’t even know the man?

  Her parents’ conversation batted back and forth, praising Wellworth Park, its owner’s taste, and his wealth. Amelia continued to stare out the window at the wintery scene.

  “Just a pity about his war injury,” her mother mused.

  Amelia darted her eyes from the view out the window to her mother. What injury?

  “I hear he no longer fences or boxes because of his leg, but I’m not sure whether he still rides,” her father replied.

  Had he been seriously wounded?

  “I can’t understand why a man of his age and fortune joined the army. What a foolish idea! But I’m sure Amelia will not be bothered by that,” her mother said. She turned to her daughter. “As you looked after your grandmother all those years, you have good nursing skills. You’re a perfect match for him. So much better than the usual debutant.”

  Is Wellworth both old and an invalid? “How could you?”

  Neither parent answered. Her mother flicked a glance at the baron then leaned forward to pat Amelia’s hands where they lay in her lap.

  Finally, her mother replied, “If you were to find Major Wellworth at all acceptable as a husband, we urge you to encourage his advances. That is all. He is very eligible.”

  “But I’ve never met him.”

  “But you soon will,” her mother said.

  “Why would he be making advances?” Amelia’s heart pounded from foreboding.

  “See what you think of him before dismissing his suit out of hand,” her father said.

  “His suit? He’s already approached you? For me, sight unseen?”

  “But he has seen you,” her mother replied.

  “Will I have any choice about whether I marry him?” Amelia’s blood curdled in her veins at the thought of such a one-sided union.

  “It appears to have been love at first sight for him.” Her mother gave a smug smile.

  I can hardly credit that as true. “But why? I didn’t take during the Season and I haven’t had a single offer! I know dressmakers don’t sigh resignedly when they see my figure, and my teeth are straight so I don’t mind smiling, but those are my only positives. My hair is boring brown, and I’m not a beauty—as you’ve told me yourself, Mother. Doesn’t that say enough?”

  “You underestimate yourself, my girl,” her father said.

  “I don’t think I do! What could possibly have interested him in me?” Except my family’s pedigree? “I suspect Major Wellworth fell in love with your title, Papa.”

  Her father’s mouth, with permanent creases of disapproval etched around it, hardened into a straight line. “And if he did, does it matter?”

  I can see that it doesn’t matter to you. His wealth wouldn’t have anything to do with it? She twisted her fingers into the pale material of her debutant dress.

  Her father added a frown to his stern look. “He’s a very gentlemanly fellow despite being the son of a banker.”

  “That’s as may be, but—”

  “No buts, Amelia,” her mother cut in. “As you say, you didn’t receive a single offer during the Season. You will be charming towards him. We have high hopes that his affections are engaged and you are not to do anything to discourage that state of being!”

  Amelia’s stomach hollowed into a pit of dread. Her great-aunt had warned her of her parents’ desperate scheming for wealth through her marriage. “No matter what I think of him?”

  “Only if he were found to be a rake of the worst sort. Anything less and I would consider him perfectly suitable husband material,” her father said.

  “But—”

  “And you should, too,” her mother finished.

  Her father pointed a manicured finger at her. “Listen to your mother, Amelia. Our financial situation is dire. I borrowed heavily for your come-out this Season. I will not see that investment squandered. It’s not for you to be looking for some beautiful beau to swoon over. You have a duty to your family to make as good a match as possible, and that means wealth, not looks.” His set expression told her not to dare argue her case.

  Amelia’s face heated. She didn’t trust herself to say one more word without her anger escaping. She would either utter something rude, or burst into tears at the injustice of her position—as bait to land a wealthy husband to pay off her family’s debts; all of them the result of her father’s love of gambling.

  “And you will be the perfect Christmas bride.” Her mother gave her an encouraging smile.

  “What do you mean ‘Christmas bride’?” Amelia’s stomach felt like it had fallen to the centre of the earth. Christmas was just three days away.

  Neither answered.

  Was she to be married off to a man she had not met, before she could get to know him? This was her worst nightmare!

  The coach rocked to a stop in front of the enormous stone edifice she had seen earlier.

  Mutiny bubbled in her mind. She would not be forced to marry an elderly invalid. Her next actions would be determined by Major Wellworth. If she didn’t like what she saw, she would catch the first coach to Great-Aunt Lavinia in Bath. Her
parents could have the competence her grandmother had left her, as soon as she turned twenty-one. Her grandmother had wanted to ensure Amelia was not forced into marriage or a poor relation’s role because of her father’s desperate financial state. Her birthday was only a few weeks away. She just needed to avoid the trap her parents had set with Major Wellworth until then.

  She could, couldn’t she?

  Chapter 2

  A team of servants flowed from the house, but Wellworth was not there to welcome his guests. His butler greeted her parents and announced in a haughty voice, “Major Wellworth has been called away on urgent farm business and will not return until teatime. He sends his compliments and begs you to make yourselves comfortable.”

  The interior of Wellworth’s Palladian-inspired home was well-appointed and in the latest fashion, as Amelia’s mother had predicted. A Classical painting decorated the ceiling of its grand foyer, and a huge fireplace, with a roaring log fire, heated that vaulted space. A Christmas garland of holly studded with red berries lay across the mantelpiece. Vases of flamboyant hothouse flowers glowed vivid red in each corner of the room.

  The housekeeper led the way to their chambers and informed them that tea would be served in the drawing room in an hour’s time.

  Their host still hadn’t returned when they assembled for tea. The butler delivered a message in his master’s handwriting, saying that he was unfortunately further delayed by farm business, but would have the pleasure of their company at dinner.

  After the French doors closed behind the butler with a light click, Amelia’s mother examined the room and gave a nod of satisfaction. “You will have such a beautiful home,” she said.

  “Will, mother? It’s already arranged, no matter what I want?” The situation was far worse than she had thought! Dread balled in her gut, constricted her lungs, robbed her of breath.

  “Weddings don’t take long to organise, especially when there is no reason for delay by either party. And wouldn’t a Christmas wedding be romantic? You’ll make such an attractive bride in your white silk,” her mother answered.

  Amelia gulped. That was it. She could not stay. Her parents would not succeed in forcing her to marry a man she had never met, one who was too busy to even meet them when they arrived. “Mother, I wish to lie down and rest. I’ll make sure I’m ready in time for dinner.”

  “Of course, my dear. Wear your newest evening dress to meet Major Wellworth. I’ll come up in good time to assist you,” her mother responded.

  Her cheeks hot, Amelia smiled and nodded. It pained her to lie to her parents, but she would not marry an old and crippled man. No fortune could be worth that degree of sacrifice!

  Aunt Lavinia had insisted Amelia come to her if the situation with her parents became unbearable. This was the first time she had ever thought to take up that offer. Wasn’t being married off to this man suitably unbearable? A rush of affection for her great-aunt warmed her heart.

  Amelia guessed she had about an hour to get back to the posting inn at the nearest village to catch the afternoon coach to Bath. She must be long gone before her mother arrived to supervise her dressing.

  Inside her room, Amelia stuffed a plain dress and underclothing into a small bandbox, then pulled her winter redincoat over her day dress, checked that the corridor outside was empty, and hurried downstairs.

  Amelia reached the grandiose foyer without encountering even a housemaid. Neither the hall porter nor the butler were anywhere to be seen. She opened the heavy front door and slipped out into the crisp afternoon air.

  After about half an hour’s hurried walk along the entrance avenue, Amelia reached the drive gates. The cold of the fallen snow seeped through her leather boots and woollen stockings until her feet burned and ached with every step. Her sodden skirt slapped against her boots as she trudged along the muddy verge for another ten minutes. At last the village came into view. And there was the coaching inn.

  To enter its coffee lounge, she needed to pass the door of the public bar.

  A shabbily dressed man lurched from within. He grabbed her arm, and slurred, “Just what the doctor ordered—a pretty young miss!” His beer-laden breath assailed her nose.

  She tugged her arm. “Let go!”

  He didn’t loosen his hold.

  She tried to twist out of his grip. Her throat constricted with fear. “Landlord!” Amelia tried to cry out, but only a hoarse rasp escaped.

  The wretch dragged her closer. Closer to his reddened, blue-veined face. Closer to his slack, wet lips ready to kiss her.

  Amelia lashed out at him with her free hand. Her palm connected with his face.

  “Damn you.” He tugged her against him.

  Oh god, surely this time he would succeed! Her whole body strained away from his tight hold. Her heart pounded fit to burst through her chest.

  The kiss never happened.

  A large hand slammed onto the brute’s shoulder and pulled him from her, before another fist landed a punch on her assailant’s unshaven chin. The man slumped to the floor. The newcomer lifted him by his coat lapels and deposited his groggy form onto a nearby bench.

  Her rescuer turned to her. The most striking man she had ever seen stood before her. His dark eyes glittered with anger. His country clothes highlighted his muscled form, making him look the epitome of a well-made gentleman.

  She dragged gasps of air into her lungs and her rapid breathing slowed.

  “Are you injured?” he asked. A furrow of concern ran between his dark brown eyebrows and he gave a reassuring smile.

  She shook her head.

  With his right hand, he adjusted his hat, and retrieved a silver-handled walking stick from against the wall, then offered his left arm to her. “Come, let me escort you to your family.”

  She shrank back. “No.”

  A look of concern worried his face. “Do not be afraid.”

  She didn’t know him and although this gentleman looked benign and kindly, still she hesitated.

  His frown returned, this time confused. “Are you alone?”

  She nodded. “I’m waiting for the Bath-bound coach. I believe it stops here?”

  His brows darted upwards. His answer came slowly. “It does. Allow me to escort you to the coffee room where you may wait. Please take my arm.” He offered it again.

  Amelia hesitated. Surely, he could be trusted? He had already helped her. She placed her shaking hand on his arm and allowed him to lead her through the front door of the inn. As they walked, he leant a little on his walking stick.

  He opened the coffee room door. The room was a low-ceiled room with dark stained beams. Half a dozen tables filled the space. A few travellers waited with hand luggage beside their chairs. A stout middle-aged woman picked up her portmanteau and hurried past them.

  “Would you join me for a cup of coffee while we wait for your coach, Miss …?”

  Probably she ought not, but how could she refuse when he had rescued her from that drunk? And his clothes were those of a gentleman. Certainly, there could be no harm in joining him in such a public place. “Thank you, yes.”

  After placing their order with the landlord, the stranger joined her at a small table before a bow window, laying his cane and hat on the chair beside him. “Where have you come from this afternoon? I find it hard to credit that your family would leave you here alone.”

  It couldn’t hurt to tell him? “I’ve come from Wellworth Park.”

  He observed her with undisguised curiosity.

  “Do you know the place?” she asked.

  A smile appeared but died quickly, leaving a gleam in his eyes.

  “I do, quite well. Are you a relative of the butler or the housekeeper there?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Of the steward, perhaps?” He raised a dark brow.

  “Not at all.” This was becoming amusing. She wondered who else she might be attributed to.

  “You’re certainly not a servant.”

  That would b
e obvious from her clothes. “Indeed no.”

  “Then you’re one of the guests.” A maid arrived with their coffee, distracting his fixed gaze. When she left, her rescuer said, “Was the cooking at Wellworth Park inadequate?” He chuckled as though that was an outrageous idea.

  Amelia took a sip from her cup and savoured its warming, comforting blend. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve eaten nothing there.”

  “Was the butler rude? The housekeeper offhand? The servants insolent?”

  She laughed at the thought. “Of course they were not!”

  He sat forward, a frown of bemusement on his face. “But you still wish to leave?”

  “I do.”

  Fixing her with his level gaze, he relaxed back into his chair, a look of languid curiosity on his face. “May I enquire why?”

  Amelia hesitated. Should she reveal such a private family matter to this stranger? Gallant as he has been—will he understand my dilemma? She made her decision. “My parents and Major Wellworth have hatched a plan for me to marry him at Christmas, and I’ve never met the man!”

  His body stiffened as though every muscle was on alert. “Surely not!”

  “I believe it’s true. My parents said as much on the journey here.”

  His eyebrows lifted nearer his hairline. “And would that be so awful?”

  He questions whether it’s a heinous idea? “Do you not know Wellworth?” She couldn’t keep incredulity from her voice.

  “I do.” His words were level and sure.

  “Then how can you question my revulsion at the idea of marrying such an old man?”

  “You believe your parents wish you to marry old Mr Wellworth?”

  Amelia opened her eyes wide. “Yes! Not only is he old but he is also quite infirm!”

  “You’re sure your parents want you to marry Mr Wellworth, the elder, not Mr Wellworth, the younger?”

  “There are two Mr Wellworths?” Now she was confused.

  “Father and son. The elder is sixty.”

  “It must be the son, then. I know he has a war injury that makes it difficult for him to walk. But surely he is quite old also.”