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Bartered Bride
Anne Herries
Indulge your fantasies of delicious Regency Rakes, fierce Viking warriors and rugged Highlanders. Be swept away into a world of intense passion, lavish settings and romance that burns brightly through the centuriesAnne is the daughter of a schoolteacher and a ladies hairdresser who, after leaving high school at 15, worked in her father's shop until she married.She ran her own hairdressing salon for a while, then gave it up to write and help her husband run his antique business. Her first success came in 1979 when, writing as Lynn Granville, she was accepted by Robert Hale. Success with Mills & Boon came soon after and Devil's Kin was published in 1981.Anne wrote 12 books for Mills & Boon before trying her hand at mainstream fiction. She has now written several books under her own name of Linda Sole and other pseudonyms. However, Mills & Boon remains one of her favorite publishers because of the friendly family atmosphere. She decided to write for them again while continuing her other work–it's a busy life, but fulfilling!Writing has always been a pleasure and is a dream come true for Anne. However, she is happily married and enjoys many other things in the company of her husband. Her main interests apart from writing are watching good films and reading other authors; also walking in the sun and swimming–mostly in Spain because it's warmer.Her main love, apart from her husband and writing, is for animals and birds. She loves feeding the squirrels that come regularly to her garden, as well as many varieties of birds–and even foxes during the recent bad weather. Anne says happiness comes from enjoying the good things around us.
“Release me from the contract and I will make certain Papa pays you every penny from the estate.”
“No. Jilt me and you will be ruined, your father and sister with you.”
“But why?” Lottie was puzzled.
“Because I need an heir. One woman is as good as another in the dark. Your father owes me and you chose to deceive me. You will keep your part of the bargain whether you wish it or not.”
Tears were stinging behind her eyes, but Lottie refused to let them fall.
“Have it your own way, sir. You hold all the cards it seems but you may come to regret this…” She walked past him and this time he let her go.
Bartered Bride
Harlequin
Historical #303—March 2011
ANNE HERRIES
Award-winning author Anne Herries lives in Cambridgeshire, England. She is fond of watching wildlife, and spoils the birds and squirrels that are frequent visitors to her garden. Anne loves to write about the beauty of nature, and sometimes puts a little into her books—although they are mostly about love and romance. She writes for her own enjoyment, and to give pleasure to her readers. She invites readers to contact her on her website: www.lindasole.co.uk.
Bartered Bride
Anne Herries
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Available from Harlequin
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Did you know some of these titles are also available as ebooks? Visit www.eHarlequin.com
A Season in Town
a new miniseries from Anne Herries
Look for
A Country Miss in Hanover Square An Innocent Debutante in Hanover Square The Mistress of Hanover Square
Coming soon
Praise for Anne Herries
“In An Innocent Debutante in Hanover Square, Anne Herries shows us how life was not always easy for the less fortunate in Regency England… These and other social issues combine with danger…making it a great read from beginning to end.”
—Cataromance
Contents
Prologue
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
Prologue
Nicolas, Marquis of Rothsay, nine and twenty, tall, strong, handsome, and known to most of society as a cold heartless rake, looked helplessly at the diminutive lady before him. Henrietta, Countess Selby, might reach no higher than his shoulder in her heels but she was the only person he would heed, the only person he truly cared for in the world—and, he sometimes thought, the only person who cared two hoots for him.
‘Marry to get an heir, dearest Henri?’ he murmured, looking at his godmother with a sceptical expression. ‘Who do you suppose would have me? The matchmaking mamas take one look and stay well clear of me for fear I may corrupt their little darlings.’
‘More fool them,’ Henrietta replied, a sparkle in her eye. ‘Besides, it is no such thing. You know very well that there are many young ladies who would be happy to become your wife.’
‘Why, for the sake of my fortune?’
His dark eyes smouldered, a mutinous, brooding expression on lips that could at certain moments be sensual and passionate, but were, these days, more often set in lines of disdain or disappointment. His memory strayed to a woman he had known some years previously, when he was first a green youth on the town.
‘The lady will give you an heir—or more than one to be safe. In return, you will keep her in comfort for the rest of her life. Surely an heir is worth a little effort? You owe it to the family, Nicolas. Also, you should remember your father’s last request. He did not exactly make it a condition of his will, but it was his dying wish that you should provide the estate with an heir. You are in your thirtieth year, dearest, and while I would not suggest you are past your prime, I should hate you to leave things too late.’
‘Should you, dearest Henri?’ Only his beloved godmother would dare to say such a thing to him, and only she could make him smile at the idea that he might soon be past his prime. ‘I suppose Cousin Raymond might be called my heir?’
‘That nincompoop? He has no more brain than a pea-goose and thinks only of his appearance and what is the latest scandalous tale upon the town.’ Henrietta fixed him with a compelling stare. ‘If you will not do it for yourself, then do it for me. Had I to refer to Raymond as the head of the family, I should soon find myself in my grave.’
‘Poor Henri.’ Nicolas smiled affectionately, becoming in that moment a very different man than was known in the clubs and certain drawing rooms in London. ‘Has my cousin been lecturing you on my morals again? He tried to remind me of my duty to the family name recently. I fear I sent him about his business with his tail between his legs.’
‘Perfectly understandable. I should have done the same in your place. He has no right to tell you how to behave, Rothsay. Yet, do you not see, that makes it all the more important for you to set up your nursery? If Raymond begins to imagine himself your rightful heir, it will make him more conceited than ever—and perhaps resentful if at the last minute you produce an heir. Besides, the children of old men are often weaklings.’
‘Henrietta, I adore you.’ Nicolas swept his godmother from her feet, planting a kiss on her cheek. She gave him a mocking wrathful look and he set her down carefully. ‘Forgive me, but you tempt me so.’
‘Remember I am more than twice your age and to be treated with respect,’ Henrietta said, but there was a smile in her eyes. ‘Will you at least consider marriage, Nicolas?’
Nicolas caught the hint of tears in her eyes and realised that the matter of his heir was important to her. She had no children of her own and, although not precisely lonely, for she had many friends, she must wish for a child to dote on. He suspected that his godmother had not been truly well for a while now. She might be thinking of making her own will, and, while he knew himself her favourite, he believed she would leave her fortune to his son if he had one. She was forever telling him he had more money than was good for him.
In his heart Nicolas knew that her pleas made perfect sense. It was time he produced an heir for the family. His father had begged him to do so on his death bed and Nicolas had pushed the memory to the back of his mind, a little resentful that his father should make such a demand after the neglect of years.
The trouble was that he had become used to his life as it was and had no wish for a change. Love caused more trouble than it was worth and he would avoid it at all cost—but perhaps a marriage of convenience might suit him? It was, as Henrietta said, his duty. He was not yet in his dotage, but if his lack of a wife was causing his godmother distress, he must certainly give it some consideration.
‘For your sake I shall give the matter of an heir some thought—when I return from Paris.’
‘You intend to visit Paris?’
‘Yes, for a few weeks. The company grows stale in London. I need a change of air.’
‘What you need is a passionate adventure,’ Henrietta replied. ‘I do not mean your opera dancers and actresses, who oblige you for the sake of the money you lavish on them. No, Nicolas, you need to fall desperately in love and to be brought back to life. I fear you have no real interest in anything.’
‘Love is a myth,’ he replied, withdrawing from her, a look of disdain upon his mouth. ‘If I marry, it will be to a woman who understands that I must be free to live my own way. As you said, there need be no more than a token marriage on either side. She will give me an heir. I shall give her a home and jewels and there it ends—if I find anyone foolish enough to take me, that is.’
Even for Henri’s sake, he had no intention of surrendering his heart and soul to love. He had witnessed the way love destroyed a man, making him a shadow of his former self, and causing him to withdraw into a lonely place inside his head. Nicolas’s father had worshipped his mother; when she died, he had shut himself off from everyone, including his only child—leaving Nicolas to cope with the loss of both parents alone.
As a young man he had briefly believed himself in love but learned a sharp lesson when the young lady laughed at his offer of devotion. After Elizabeth, he had decided that he would never let another woman under his skin.
‘Believe me, I can do without a romantic attachment, Henri. Love is for fools.’
‘Well, I have said my piece. You must go your own way, Nicolas—and now I shall bid you good morning.’
‘Leaving already?’ The smile had come back to his dark eyes. ‘Stay and have nuncheon with me? It is rare enough that you honour me with a visit, Henri.’
‘If you visited Rothsay Manor occasionally, I dare say I should see more of you. London is too much of a racket for me these days.’
‘You are not truly unwell?’ For a moment real anxiety flashed into his eyes.
Henrietta smiled. The boy she had loved was still there beneath the cold aloof manner he had assumed these past years.
‘No, dearest, I am not unwell—and, yes, I shall stay and eat with you since you ask…’
Chapter One
‘What have you there?’ Lady Hoskins asked as Charlotte Stanton entered the parlour carrying a letter. ‘Is it from your father?’
‘From Clarice,’ Lottie answered with a smile. ‘She apologises for not having written before, but they have been too busy.’
‘Too busy!’ Aunt Beth gave a snort as she looked at her favourite niece. ‘Too busy to write to her own twin? Well, is that not typical of them both? They leave you here and go gallivanting off to Paris while you have the bother of an invalid.’
‘I did not wish to go to Paris with them,’ Lottie replied a little untruthfully. She might have wished to go had her aunt been in better health, or if Clarice had agreed to remain at home with her this time. ‘Besides, you were quite unwell, dearest Beth. I could not have been happy knowing you were here alone.’
‘Nonsense, I have Muffet and the maids,’ Lady Hoskins replied, but the tone of her voice told Beth that she would not have wished to be left alone to cope.
