скачать книгу бесплатно
From Wallflower to Countess
Janice Preston
From Wallflower to Countess was shortlisted for the RoNA Rose Award in 2016!She Was Always Overlooked…Most girls would dream of marriage to the dashing Earl of Stanton, darling of the ton. For plain Lady Felicity Weston, used to being ignored, it’s a terrifying prospect! Richard has always thought love is for fools. Although after an explosive wedding night he’s intrigued by his shy new bride.Day by day the tentative trust between these newlyweds grows. But the stakes in this marriage of convenience are raised when Felicity falls pregnant… Will giving the Earl an heir finally help this wallflower blossom into a confident Countess?
‘Do not make fun of me, sir. I may be a spinster, and therefore in your eyes a poor, undesired thing, but I have feelings and I have pride.’
‘Felicity, I promise I intended no slight. The thought never crossed my mind that you might think I was making fun of you. I was … Oh, confound it! Come here.’
He had run out of words. He clasped her shoulders and drew her close. A finger beneath her chin tilted her face to his. He searched her eyes. They were shuttered. She was rigid in his arms. Was she scared? Had she never known a man’s kiss? The thought, strangely, pleased him: knowing his wife had never experienced another man’s touch. But he must take care not to frighten her. He lowered his head, slowly, and put his lips to hers.
He almost recoiled in shock. He had expected ice. What he felt was fire.
AUTHOR NOTE (#ulink_1311c1e0-b4a6-5d7a-bc8e-bff8b7c58899)
I first met Richard, Earl of Stanton, many years ago, when he was a drop-dead gorgeous secondary character in my first ever attempt at writing a Regency romance. That attempt has not yet seen the light of day, but I always knew Richard would have his own story. I had no idea which lucky lady would share his journey, until one day he ran up the stairs in his shirtsleeves and came face-to-face with an unprepossessing but sparky spinster who had absolutely no intention of ever getting married.
One year on from that meeting Lady Felicity Weston’s fear of unrequited love is as strong as ever, but her circumstances have changed. She begs her mother to find her a quiet, unremarkable gentleman with whom she might be content, little realising she will end up with society’s most eligible bachelor.
I hope you will enjoy reading about the arranged marriage between Richard and Felicity, and about how they help each other to reveal and ultimately resolve their emotional conflicts on their journey to true love.
I had a lot of fun writing their story, and I’m sure both Richard and Felicity will pop up from time to time in my future Regencies.
From Wallflower to Countess
Janice Preston
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
JANICE PRESTON grew up in Wembley, North London, with a love of reading, writing stories and animals. In the past she has worked as a farmer, a police call-handler and a university administrator. She now lives in the West Midlands with her husband and two cats and has a part-time job with a weight management counsellor (vainly trying to control her own weight despite her love of chocolate!).
To my friend Morton Gray.
We’ve shared an exciting, unpredictable journey since we first met on the steps of Birmingham Library.
Thank you for your generosity, your support and your wonderful imagination!
Contents
Cover (#uf375c290-beed-55ff-95f3-6bceaaedf131)
Introduction (#ud50963b1-0a24-5225-95e4-bab5dbe72868)
Author Note (#ud2cd165c-2a6f-5c29-b581-bd14fed751ae)
Title Page (#uc341cc8c-9436-5048-a385-60fc1eee33cc)
About the Author (#ucc9464f0-162f-51c3-8872-2116653f6eec)
Dedication (#u2ffb0429-bfa4-5070-904f-b33a1ab9ee8d)
Prologue (#u3c8da809-d200-5564-a78b-88a7419fea8e)
Chapter One (#u7ead9188-b1b1-52ea-87eb-b1d499cca3fb)
Chapter Two (#u852e4147-96d7-57a4-bf53-ec7388604a03)
Chapter Three (#ud2078089-4431-5841-abc7-637bb27e4ecf)
Chapter Four (#ub6b7464c-0764-5054-bf47-0057fec6a830)
Chapter Five (#ufc2a259a-d4f0-5592-9e6a-65c779bb65bb)
Chapter Six (#u74d39336-b07c-5a84-9740-cf927ec845ac)
Chapter Seven (#ue59862ae-78ab-5784-8716-f3dc001d747f)
Chapter Eight (#u65ab45d2-4861-5f26-9ab9-d8fb584fc4ed)
Chapter Nine (#u20b40e9b-ed6f-5fff-89bf-8cb5447ce111)
Chapter Ten (#u12e268ce-ae73-585c-a2ff-14c7a6511ad0)
Chapter Eleven (#ue88551cf-f90d-5436-bcc6-6eeab2f794c4)
Chapter Twelve (#u26ecaf73-cbd4-5c2b-a72a-5c5371dcbf04)
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)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifty (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue (#ulink_f3cc0860-b821-5e3b-b6eb-b0385aa6588c)
August 1810
The single state had much to recommend it, Lady Felicity Weston mused as she crossed the landing of Cheriton Abbey on her way downstairs for dinner. She was beholden to no man: no man to criticize her appearance; no man to dictate her activities; and, most important of all, no man to threaten the barriers she had erected around her heart.
Her life was content.
As she reached the head of the imposing staircase, Felicity froze. A man, dressed in shirt and breeches, was bounding up the stairs two at a time. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, exposing tanned, muscular forearms. He wore no neckcloth, his open shirt collar exposing the strong column of his neck. With his thick brown hair wet and dishevelled he looked virile and slightly dangerous. Felicity’s mouth dried. Just two steps down from where she stood, he glanced up and slammed to a halt.
Felicity’s stomach flipped as she recognized the Earl of Stanton.
One of the most eligible bachelors of the ton, Stanton was a catch coveted by zealous mamas and ambitious daughters alike. And admired even by disregarded, unprepossessing spinsters who had watched his star from afar and had once—for one brief, uncharacteristic flight of fancy—wondered what it might be like to catch the attention of such a man.
Of all the men in the ton, it was Stanton who had drawn her eye, time and again, during her come-out five years before. But he had never noticed her.
Never asked her to dance.
Never escorted her to supper.
And that had suited her—even then—perfectly. She had seen little of him in the intervening years but she might have guessed Stanton would be amongst the guests at Cousin Leo’s house party. They were close friends.
His chest expanded as he hauled in a breath, his chocolate-brown eyes regarding her with apology but no hint of recognition.
‘I beg your pardon.’ His voice was a rich baritone. ‘I’m aware I am a little late, but I did not think anyone would be coming downstairs for dinner quite yet.’
He swept long fingers through his hair then climbed the remaining stairs to Felicity’s level. Up close, he smelled of rain and horses and leather...and very male. Felicity stepped back involuntarily. His lips twitched.
‘I apologize for my unkempt appearance. I was drenched coming up from the stables and I left my coat downstairs, where it might drip with impunity.’ He sketched a bow. ‘Stanton, Miss...?’
A craven impulse to proffer a false name was swiftly quashed. Much good that would do her if they were to spend the weekend at the same gathering. Besides, Felicity was in no mind to turn into a simpering miss over an attractive gentleman in his shirtsleeves. Her gaze lowered without volition, drinking in the breadth of his shoulders and the strength of those arms. She raised her eyes to his, and caught his expression of wry amusement.
She straightened, lifting her chin. Arrogant wretch. She would do well to remember arrogance was a trait that often went hand in hand with wealth, status and a handsome face.
‘Felicity Weston, my lord.’
She was unsurprised by his perplexed frown. She attended society events rarely now and knew she had faded from memory. She had become accustomed to such a reaction upon introduction and it no longer embarrassed or hurt her, it simply was. People inevitably struggled to place her within the Weston family, not quite believing she was so closely related to her handsome parents and siblings.
Her sense of the ridiculous bubbled to the surface, prompting her to bestow a kindly smile upon his lordship.
‘It is a thankless task, I fear, to try and second-guess my position within the Weston clan. Allow me to enlighten you: I am the sister of Ambrose, Earl of Baverstock.’
