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Mistaken Bride
Mistaken Bride
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Mistaken Bride

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Mistaken Bride
Renee Ryan

THE WRONG BRIDE…THE RIGHT WOMAN?When William Black’s mail-order bride fails to appear at the Boston docks, he’s relieved when beautiful, vibrant Bridget Murphy steps in. However, she has a surprise in store. She will be a temporary nanny to his young twins…but she will not marry without love.Faith Glen, Massachusetts, is worlds away from the poverty Bridget knew in Ireland. And William Black couldn’t be more different from her faithless ex-fiancé. Yet that integrity Bridget so admires binds William to a promise that could keep them apart forever. In this new land of opportunity, does she dare to wish for a happy ending?Irish Brides: Adventure—and love—await these Irish sisters on the way to America…

The wrong bride…the right woman?

When William Black’s mail-order bride fails to appear at the Boston docks, he’s relieved when beautiful, vibrant Bridget Murphy steps in. However, she has a surprise in store. She will be a temporary nanny to his young twins…but she will not marry without love.

Faith Glen, Massachusetts, is worlds away from the poverty Bridget knew in Ireland. And William Black couldn’t be more different from her faithless ex-fiancé. Yet that integrity Bridget so admires binds William to a promise that could keep them apart forever. In this new land of opportunity, does she dare to wish for a happy ending?

“What will you do now?”

Will answered without hesitation. “Find another bride.”

“I see. Perhaps you should consider hiring a nanny, at least for now.”

“No.” He gave one decisive shake of his head.

“I don’t want my children getting used to someone who will eventually leave them like…” He let his words trail off.

“Won’t you at least consider me for the position? It would be a great honor to—”

“No.” His tone indicated the discussion was over. His children already adored Bridget. If she took a position in his home, then changed her mind, where would that leave Olivia and Caleb?

Although…

What if Will made a different offer? What if he supplied her with a more permanent position in his home?

“Bridget Murphy.” He captured her hand in his and held on tight. “Would you consider becoming my wife?”

RENEE RYAN

grew up in a small Florida beach town. To entertain herself during countless hours of “lying out” she read all the classics. It wasn’t until the summer between her sophomore and junior years at Florida State University that she read her first romance novel. Hooked from page one, she spent hours consuming one book after another while working on the best (and last!) tan of her life.

Two years later, armed with a degree in economics and religion, she explored various career opportunities, including stints at a Florida theme park, a modeling agency and a cosmetics conglomerate. She moved on to teach high school economics, American government and Latin while coaching award-winning cheerleading teams. Several years later, with an eclectic cast of characters swimming around in her head, she began seriously pursuing a writing career.

She lives an action-packed life in Georgia, with her supportive husband, lovely teenage daughter and two ornery cats who hate each other.

Mistaken Bride

Renee Ryan

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

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

—1 Corinthians 13:13

To Harlequin Love Inspired editors Emily Rodmell and Elizabeth Mazer. Thank you for your hard work and unceasing efforts in editing this book. I’m in your debt. Your suggestions made the story much stronger. It was a joy working with you both!

Special thanks and acknowledgment to Renee Ryan

for her contribution to the Irish Brides miniseries.

Contents

Chapter One (#ub3e69221-2ca1-5ea3-8ab9-5ab5b026eef0)

Chapter Two (#u5272d5c6-e6ab-5716-8ea9-ecc2d8f0ebe9)

Chapter Three (#u698244c5-cc15-5764-9503-0290d232a9bc)

Chapter Four (#u762fecce-ed18-57ce-9f41-5f0177e4eaac)

Chapter Five (#u4f8e200d-32ac-5aed-b086-f311beb5b7af)

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)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One

Boston Harbor, July 1850

To Bridget Murphy’s way of thinking the voyage to America was more than a thrilling journey across the vast Atlantic Ocean. It was the beginning of a new life. For her and her two sisters. But especially for her.

From the moment she’d boarded the Annie McGee, Bridget was simply Bridget, the soft-spoken Irish lass earning her way to America as a stand-in nanny for the Atwater family.

No more humiliation hanging over her head. No more whispers trailing in her wake. The past had finally become the past.

And now the wait was over. Today she would begin her new life in earnest. Endless possibilities awaited her in her new country—her new home.

Bridget leaned over the ship’s railing for her first glimpse of America, the ribbon streamers at her elbows billowed in the breeze. A gasp of delight flew past her lips, not only because she felt very smart in her new green sateen dress, but at the sight that met her gaze. Chaos, utter and complete chaos, met her gaze. The air vibrated with seagull shrieks, calls for carriages, laughter and commands.

Caught up in the madness, she took a moment and simply watched the activity below. Passengers disembarked the ship with hurried steps. Workmen staggered under the weight of their cargo. Carts full of wares were scattered everywhere. Children darted headlong past the lopsided piles.

Although she recognized many of the people already on the docks, none noticed her.

More the better.

A sudden movement in the distance caught her attention. She narrowed her eyes. A man, alone, worked his way through the crowd with methodical grace. His tall, lithe form stopped every few moments to speak with one of the passengers. There was something about him…

Something that tugged at her very core.

She couldn’t tear her gaze away.

He moved with the kind of steps only a man confident in his own worth could pull off. Bridget placed her hand on her forehead to shade her eyes from the sun and continued watching him. He had broad shoulders, long legs and lean hips. Even though she couldn’t see him clearly from this distance, she knew his eyes would be a vivid, piercing blue. The kind of color that turned silver in the light.

A little shocked at herself, at the fact that she was admiring a man when her heart was still so tender, she tried to pull back, to duck out of sight. But she found herself leaning forward ever so slightly.

As if sensing her eyes on him, he looked straight in her direction.

Her breath caught in her throat and she pulled back from the rail. Surely he hadn’t seen her watching him. The distance was far too great.

Torn between embarrassment and a sudden wish to see the man up close, to discover if his eyes were truly the color of the sky, she hesitated a moment longer. She’d tarried long enough.

Joining the rest of her fellow passengers, she hurried across the ship’s main deck. She’d told the Atwater siblings farewell earlier this morning. Pamela, the youngest, had been the saddest over their parting. Well, besides Bridget. Laurel and Hilary had been too busy arguing over a treasured bonnet to care overmuch that they’d never see their temporary nanny again.

Bridget sighed to herself. The journey hadn’t been long enough to win over the older two girls. If only—

No. No more regrets. No more if only. Bridget was finished trying to fix the unfixable. Never again would she dwell on things she couldn’t change.

Increasing her pace, her boot heels struck the weathered planks in perfect rhythm with the rapid beating of her heart.

She’d lost sight of her older sister, Nora. No matter. Nora, being Nora, had prepared for this very contingency and had set up a common meeting place near the gangplank.

Not wishing to hear yet another lecture on setting priorities and keeping to timetables, Bridget increased her pace. She resisted the urge to look over the railing at the wharf below. Was he still there? Winding his way through the thick knots of people and cargo, looking for someone in particular? Someone special?

Who? she wondered.

Without breaking stride, Bridget tossed a jaunty wave at the widow Mrs. Fitzwilliam, who had befriended the Murphy sisters on the journey. With her was her attendant Stillman and the three McCorkle brothers Mrs. Fitzwilliam had taken in as her wards. Good-hearted, gracious souls, getting to know them all had been a real blessing. Already running late, Bridget did not stop to speak to them.

Then again…

She’d already fallen behind. What would be the harm in saying one more goodbye to her new friend and those darling boys?

Just as she changed direction, a throng of passengers surged from behind, shoving her back on course at an even greater speed. She would have to catch up with Mrs. Fitzwilliam and the boys later.

Nearing her destination, Bridget wrenched free of the crowd and slid into another small, unoccupied spot along the ship’s railing. At the precise location she’d been told.

Nora was nowhere in sight.

More relieved than annoyed, Bridget took a deep, steadying breath. And promptly wrinkled her nose in chagrin.

Throughout the month-long journey across the Atlantic, she had created vivid pictures of America in her mind. She had not accounted for the smell.

She raised a gloved hand to her mouth. One moment passed. Two. On the third she drew in another tentative gulp of air. Her eyes immediately filled with water. The stench was truly, truly awful. A mixture of rotting fish, animal sweat, burnt tar and something else entirely—garbage, perhaps?

Another jostle from behind and Nora wiggled in beside her.

“There you are,” Nora said, familiar frustration in her tone. “You weren’t here earlier.”

Bridget ignored the gentle reprimand and smiled at her sister. She, too, wore her new dress, a gift from fellow passengers Ardeen Nolan and her aunt, Mrs. Kennedy. “Don’t fuss, Nora. I only just arrived.”

“Well, that explains it, then.”

With her dark chestnut hair parted in the middle and contained in a tight bun, Nora should look severe. Instead, she positively glowed. Perhaps it was the vivid blue of her new gown. Or the paisley shawl. Or perhaps Nora glowed for an entirely different reason.

They had arrived safely in America and had added a new member to their small family.

Smiling, Bridget lowered her gaze to the squirming infant clutched possessively in her sister’s arms. “I see no one has come forward to claim baby Grace.”

Nora’s pretty blue eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “Not a single person.”

Bridget bit her lip to keep from stating the obvious—that Grace had likely been left behind for good. She’d suggested it before, but Nora refused to believe it. Sometimes Nora was the wisest person she knew, and sometimes surprisingly naive. Baby Grace had been abandoned days after her birth. Nora had found her shortly after the start of their journey, and had cared for her ever since.

“I suppose she’ll have to make do with us for the time being.” And Bridget wasn’t completely sorry for it, either. The baby had become a part of both their lives, Nora’s more than hers, even if only on a temporary basis. Grace wasn’t really theirs, no matter how much they wished it to be so, but for now, they were all she had.

Nora looked out in the distance, her eyes taking on a troubled look. “I’m sure there’s been a mistake.” She lowered her gaze to the child in her arms. “Who could abandon such a precious little girl?”

Who, indeed?

In Bridget’s estimation anyone who walked away from their own baby didn’t know the first thing about love. Every child deserved to be loved. Even the difficult ones.