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Captain Amberton's Inherited Bride
Captain Amberton's Inherited Bride
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Captain Amberton's Inherited Bride

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Captain Amberton's Inherited Bride
Jenni Fletcher

‘Marry me……And you’ll have your freedom.’Her father’s will dictates that Violet Harper must wed or be disinherited—but she’d rather face the wilderness of the wintry Yorkshire moors than be bound to cynical, damaged soldier Lance Amberton. Lance promises a marriage of convenience that will grant Violet her independence. In exchange she must put her faith in Lance, and see beyond his gruff exterior to the man beneath…

“Marry me…

and you’ll have your freedom.”

Her father’s will dictates Violet Harper must wed or be disinherited—yet she’d rather face the wilderness of the wintry Yorkshire moors than be bound to cynical, damaged soldier Captain Lance Amberton. Lance promises a marriage of convenience that will grant Violet her independence. In exchange, she must put her faith in Lance and see beyond his gruff exterior to the man beneath...

“Fletcher has crafted a romance to engage medievalists.”

—RT Book Reviews on Besieged and Betrothed

“Medieval fans will love the pageantry, the original setting and the surprises at every turn.”

—RT Book Reviews on Married to Her Enemy

JENNI FLETCHER was born in the north of Scotland and now lives in Yorkshire, with her husband and two children. She wanted to be a writer as a child, but got distracted by reading instead, finally getting past her first paragraph thirty years later. She’s had more jobs than she can remember, but has finally found one she loves. She can be contacted on Twitter @JenniAuthor (https://twitter.com/JenniAuthor) or via her Facebook Author page.

Also by Jenni Fletcher

Married to Her EnemyThe Convenient Felstone MarriageBesieged and Betrothed

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).

Captain Amberton’s Inherited Bride

Jenni Fletcher

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

ISBN: 978-1-474-07359-2

CAPTAIN AMBERTON’S INHERITED BRIDE

© 2018 Jenni Fletcher

Published in Great Britain 2018

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.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

For Rachel and Phil. Congratulations!

Also for Therese, my writing bestie.

Contents

Cover (#u8b5fc8b4-26fd-5849-9ec3-cad9e3f7328b)

Back Cover Text (#u044ee785-522b-5b60-9bcd-59b153071750)

About the Author (#u2893e242-1e40-5857-a32e-805bd1d99722)

Booklist (#u572c6878-9abd-5732-8354-69374fadc4cf)

Title Page (#u0912083f-3a02-50c8-9167-1761a06dafd3)

Copyright (#uc58ce41a-1bb3-5d39-8ffb-153daa100ab5)

Dedication (#u211ec547-3c4b-5e0a-a08b-e77314f97b0a)

Prologue (#ub2cab909-3f49-516c-8172-11c397adc3ae)

Chapter One (#u2df34941-3bc4-57ab-a22f-5bd05bf996fa)

Chapter Two (#u64fb0d48-2d62-50dd-8321-62c81066c9e9)

Chapter Three (#u1217bfcf-4530-53c9-be6c-896b38e78f9b)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

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)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Prologue (#u932573ea-bb54-5701-b75d-555159dd7067)

Amberton Castle, North Yorkshire—1862

‘There’s no way out, Lance. I’m trapped.’

Captain Lancelot ‘Lance’ Amberton turned his attention away from a particularly attractive redhead on the dance floor and fixed his twin brother with a speculative stare. From the tone of his voice it was obvious he wasn’t talking about the ballroom. He’d listened to Arthur’s railing against their father’s domineering behaviour a hundred times before, but the new note of despondency was unsettling enough that he almost missed the footman passing by with a fresh tray of drinks. Almost.

‘It’s your own fault.’ He darted a hand out, swiping the tumbler of brandy he knew was destined for their father. ‘You shouldn’t be so damned responsible all of the time. Do something shocking. Try saying no to him once in a while.’

‘Easier said than done.’ Arthur’s eyes, the same rich amber shade as his own, looked woebegone. ‘It’s not as if we can both run away and join the army.’

‘I had to run away.’ Lance tossed back a lock of dark chestnut hair. ‘He would have thrown me out if I hadn’t.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘It is and you know it. Father and I have done nothing but argue ever since Mother died. We get on far better at opposite ends of the country.’

‘I just wish you’d told me what you were planning.’

‘So you could have done the right thing and told him?’

Arthur dropped his eyes guiltily. ‘He would have bought you a commission if you’d asked.’

‘That’s not the point. I didn’t want to owe him anything. I had the money Mother left us and I wanted to choose my own regiment. Father would have kept me in the local militia just to keep an eye on me.’

‘He’s still glad to have you back here tonight.’

‘So he can show off his ne’er-do-well son in uniform, you mean?’

Lance threw a scornful glance around the ballroom. As pleased as he was to see Arthur again, his family home held little appeal any more. After just two days’ leave, he was already itching to get back to his regiment. There were rumours that they were about to be posted abroad and he couldn’t wait to put Yorkshire behind him.

‘Don’t put yourself down.’ Arthur gave him a sympathetic look. ‘You’re a captain in the Fusiliers at twenty-two and doing pretty well by all accounts. That’s something to be proud of.’

‘I’m glad someone in the family’s noticed.’

‘He’s noticed. He’s proud of you, too, in his way.’

Lance gave a snort of derision. ‘That makes a change. It’s just a good thing I’m rejoining my regiment next week or we’d be back at each other’s throats—and this time I’m armed.’

‘Well, I’ve missed you these past six months. I’ve even missed the arguing. His lectures have got ten times worse since you left. He talks about duty and responsibility from the moment I get up until the moment I go to bed, which is early to escape. He tells me where to go, what to wear, who to talk to, even what to say. It’s exhausting.’

‘I’ve noticed.’

‘I don’t know how much longer I can stand it. I wish I had your stamina for fighting, but I don’t. I’m just...tired.’

Lance took another swig of brandy, trying to think of something reassuring to say and failing. Arthur had always been the thinker, the rational, peaceful son, whereas he... He was too much like their father, attacking first and asking questions later. All he knew was how to fight.

‘Well, don’t let it bother you tonight.’ He clapped a hand on Arthur’s shoulder in an attempt to lighten the mood. ‘There’s enough pretty girls here to entertain both of us. Let’s have some fun.’

‘Father doesn’t approve of fun, you ought to know that by now, and I don’t want to hear another rant about how not to behave.’

‘That’s easy. Just watch me.’

‘What did you think I meant?’ Arthur threw him a look that was part reproof, part appeal. ‘Just don’t do anything scandalous like at the Kendalls’ last year. He’ll never forgive you if you ruin his ball.’

‘I’ve no intention of ruining anything. And as for the scandal, as you call it, I barely touched Olivia Kendall. No more than she wanted me to anyway.’

‘She was engaged! If it had been anyone but me who’d found you on the terrace...’

‘Who ruined my evening, you mean?’

‘That, too, but just try behaving for once, Lance, please. As much as I’d like for you to distract Father’s attention, I’ve got enough to deal with this evening.’

‘It’s only a ball, Arthur.’

‘It’s not only a ball.’ Arthur sighed heavily. ‘Haven’t you wondered why Father decided to throw such a big event all of a sudden?’

‘No.’ Though come to think of it, it was odd, especially considering the parlous state of the estate’s finances. The oak-panelled ballroom was usually opened up only once a year, for the spring ball their father considered his social duty, but tonight he seemed in uncharacteristically lavish mood. The room had rarely looked so splendid, with white and red bouquets of cut flowers adorning every available surface and a floor so highly polished it resembled glass, glittering with the light of a hundred candles suspended in crystal chandeliers above.

‘Well, I did. I thought he was planning something, but I never expected...’ Arthur drew in a deep breath. ‘Look, I’m not supposed to tell you, but Father called me to his study this afternoon. He wants me to marry Jeremy Harper’s daughter.’

‘Harper the shipbuilder?’ Lance almost spat out his mouthful of brandy. ‘That miserable old curmudgeon? Since when does he have a daughter?’

‘Since she was born eighteen years ago.’

‘I didn’t even know he was married.’

‘He’s not. His wife died a few years before Mother. Don’t you pay attention to anything?’

‘Not things like that, no.’