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The Earl's American Heiress
Carol Arens
From American heiress… …to his convenient Countess! When American schoolteacher, Clementine Maccoish, rescues a handsome stranger from perilously drowning late at night, she’s stunned to discover he’s actually Heath Cavill—the Earl of Fencroft—and the man she’s conveniently betrothed to! He has a reputation for being a man of mystery, so what was he doing outside so late? Intrigued by his secrets, Clementine wishes to find out the truth before she walks down the aisle to wed him!
From American heiress...
...to his convenient countess!
When American schoolteacher Clementine Maccoish rescues a handsome stranger from perilously drowning late at night, she’s stunned to discover he’s actually Heath Cavill—the Earl of Fencroft—and the man she’s conveniently betrothed to! He has a reputation for being a man of mystery, so what was he doing outside so late? Intrigued by his secrets, Clementine wishes to find out the truth before she walks down the aisle to wed him!
CAROL ARENS delights in tossing fictional characters into hot water, watching them steam, and then giving them a happily-ever-after. When she’s not writing she enjoys spending time with her family, beach-camping or lounging about in a mountain cabin. At home, she enjoys playing with her grandchildren and gardening. During rare spare moments you will find her snuggled up with a good book. Carol enjoys hearing from readers at carolarens@yahoo.com (mailto:carolarens@yahoo.com) or on Facebook.
Also by Carol Arens (#u0102500e-25b5-598b-bc53-c6c5131a5b03)
Dreaming of a Western Christmas
Western Christmas Proposals
The Cowboy’s Cinderella
Western Christmas Brides
The Rancher’s Inconvenient Bride
A Ranch to Call Home
A Texas Christmas Reunion
The Walker Twins miniseries
Wed to the Montana Cowboy
Wed to the Texas Outlaw
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
The Earl’s American Heiress
Carol Arens
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08918-0
THE EARL’S AMERICAN HEIRESS
© 2019 Carol Arens
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Note to Readers (#u0102500e-25b5-598b-bc53-c6c5131a5b03)
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Dedicated to Brielle Mary Iaccino,
our sparkling, happy earth-angel.
Contents
Cover (#ue2cd4044-bdf7-5f08-af6b-6a1d4bbfe933)
Back Cover Text (#u892f6dd8-e50e-500f-a6bf-23e5ecb8efbb)
About the Author (#u194302a4-363f-5154-8d7a-dc852629c8a8)
Booklist (#u9fbbd2b8-40f6-500f-8447-81885c602998)
Title Page (#udac3ac27-9950-5659-b37e-200c88684b34)
Copyright (#ucaeaa75e-59ad-52ee-b081-56e903c7a8c1)
Note to Readers
Dedication (#ua1e19f80-d5e4-5573-838c-4832933e1eac)
Chapter One (#u90590566-019f-4003-8541-9990efd701fd)
Chapter Two (#u2a6d3d01-886a-59fb-8459-601b6521257a)
Chapter Three (#u9a8965ab-6d87-52a4-a97e-19d995904a77)
Chapter Four (#u512dd89d-19e2-5c9d-ab99-8e97f1252c06)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u0102500e-25b5-598b-bc53-c6c5131a5b03)
Santa Monica Beach, an afternoon in May 1889
One did not need to open one’s eyes to appreciate the majesty of the Pacific Ocean.
It was better, in fact, to keep them closed. Doing so made it easier to ignore the hustle and bustle of high society as it went through its prancing and posing at the Arcadia Hotel, grandly squatted three hundred yards down the shore from where Clementine Macooish stood.
With closed eyes one could better feel the rush of a cold wave across one’s bare feet and the tickle of shifting sand between one’s toes as the salt water retreated into the sea.
“Once the ocean laps at your toes, it will summon you home forever,” she muttered softly, even though no one was within shouting distance. “Or with one’s dying breath—no, not that—with one’s first gasp of eternity!”
That last was a vastly more positive thought. Beautiful thoughts often came to her when her eyes were closed. She would write this one down and share it with her students at Mayflower Academy.
Moist air, the cry of gulls circling overhead... Sensation became sharpened without the distraction of the outrageously incredible vista glittering all the way to the western horizon.
Without sight, what a simple thing it was to draw in a lungful of salty, fish-scented air and imagine being as free and weightless as a pelican gliding over the surface of the water. Free to dip—free to swirl in feathered—
“Clementine Jane Macooish! What in blazing glory do you have on?”
She opened her eyes and turned when she heard the voice she loved above all others approaching from behind.
“Good afternoon to you, too, Grandfather.” She fluffed the gaily dotted ruffle of her bodice. “This is a perfectly respectable bathing gown, and you know it.”
“Respectable for underwear. Cover those bloomers with a proper skirt, girl.”
“Don’t look so shocked. If you walked the shoreline from the hotel you’ve seen this costume a dozen times on other ladies.”
“I came down the cliff steps, every blasted ninety-nine of them.” Her grandfather was trim, fit and in excellent health, so she doubted the stairs had been a burden on him. “Besides, those women are wearing stockings and booties. Your feet are bare as hatchling birds. And your hair! Surely you’ve not come without a hat.”
“It’s around here someplace.” She glanced about and didn’t see it. Perhaps it had tumbled away with the onshore breeze or been carried away by a gull. “Stand beside me and close your eyes.”
She snatched his sleeve to draw him closer.
“Folderol,” he grumbled, but did as she suggested.
She plucked the bowler hat from his head and tucked it under her arm. “Now there, doesn’t the ocean breeze feel lovely gliding over your scalp? The sunshine so nice and warm?”
With a sidelong glance, she noticed a smile tugging one corner of his mouth. Truly, he was far more handsome than most seventy-year-old men. With his gray beard and mustache, neatly trimmed, and dark brows arching dapperly over intelligent brown eyes, it was no wonder he drew the attention of ladies of all ages when he passed by.
“Fine for me,” he said, opening his eyes and pinning her with one arched brow. “I’m bald on top while you’ve the hotel ball to prepare for. I can’t think how Maria is going to do a thing with that thicket of hair, not with salt and sand stuck in it.”
“In that case I might have to stay in my hotel room tonight.”
Of course Grandfather would never permit it, but it was what she wanted to do, and she was duty bound to say so.
“Do not test me, child. You are a well-bred Macooish woman and will represent the family as such. And besides, you are quite lovely, even given the dishabille you are now in.”
Grandfather would think so, of course, since he had been the one to raise her. The truth was, her hair was far too red to be considered fashionable, her eyes green rather than the desired blue. But it was her nose that was her biggest beauty fault, being a bit too sharp. Unless she was smiling, her countenance had a slightly severe appearance, bordering even on arrogance, or so Grandfather had warned.
Her younger and prettier cousin, Madeline, had a nose that looked sweet no matter her mood.
And Clementine’s temperament? She was far too direct and opinionated to be considered socially graceful. Truly, she smiled only when she felt like it, not when it was required. Her smiles were quite genuine, to be sure, but never given away simply to put someone at ease during an awkward conversation. Sadly, on those occasions she tried, the gesture came out more as a grimace.
Madeline was far better at playing the hostess. Indeed, she excelled at charming people. Her cousin was petite, with fairy-blond hair. Her blue eyes were lit from within by a gracious spirit. Madeline had a gift for making a stranger into a friend.
It was why Grandfather had elected Madeline to be the one to cross the ocean and marry a peer of the realm—a lofty earl, no less.
Every morning and night Clementine thanked the good lord that she was not the charming granddaughter.
Which allowed her to be the one who was free to stand on the beach in her bathing costume, wiggle her bare toes in the sand and dream of being a pelican.
