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Lady Mary Contrary: Regency Ever After book 2
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Lady Mary Contrary
Regency Ever After
ANNEKA R. WALKER
Copyright © 2020 by Anneka Walker
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means, including information and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real, or are used factiously.
Cover design by Blue Water Books
First Printed Edition, January 2020
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Author’s Note
Historical Note
About the Author
Dedication
To Emily
My cheerleader, writing partner, and dear friend
Acknowledgements
Going from manuscript to print takes more than just one little writer. I need to thank all those on my writer team! Thank you, Shaela, for a wonderful cover. Summer, you did a fantastic job with your edits! Emily, you always give me the best reactions and story advice. Kaylie, your guidance inspired the last chapter. Heather, your eye for detail is so appreciated. Sally, thank you for sharing your advice with me. My husband, Jonathan, deserves lots of thanks for his continual patience and constant encouragement. And, most of all, I want to thank my Heavenly Father. He is the giver of all things. Every story He grants me is a blessing and a learning experience.
Chapter 1
Banbury Castle, Oxfordshire, England, 1803
Mary pulled back the damask curtain in the alcove on the second floor and saw a carriage come up the drive. She knelt on her chair for a better view, pushing her collection of seashells to one side of the window ledge to make room for her elbow, and held her breath. Her eldest brother Anton stepped out first and then Terrance, the brother just older than her. Anton put out his hand and helped their mother down. The carriage door shut behind them and finally, Mary’s breath released. No one else followed.
They’d dropped him off before returning home. Good riddance.
Blake—Mr. Gunther now that they were no longer children—had left with her brothers to win the fair heart of the most exquisitely beautiful woman Mary had ever seen. And now she would learn who had won. One of her brothers, or Blake.
Mary squeezed past the metal knight statue that blocked her secret place of reprieve, and smoothed her cornflower-blue morning dress. She took a bracing breath and forced herself to walk down the stairs to greet her family. Why did it feel like she was marching to her own execution?
It was easy to predict who the victor would be. Anton might be an earl now, but he could be awkward around the opposite gender, and Terrance had no desire to marry for several years to come. She also knew Blake to be the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on. He could charm a snake. Mary wished she could say she was immune to him.
Their butler, Pearl, pulled open the door as she reached the last stair. In walked her mother, escorted by Anton. Her eyes went straight to Anton’s depressed features. Mary felt a little faint. No matter how she tried to prepare herself, she could not bear to hear the outcome of their house party.
“Mary, dear!” Mother put out her arms and Mary rushed into them.
She needed this comfort, ached for it. “I’m ever so glad you’re home.” Mary burrowed her head into her mother’s shoulder.
“Good heavens! What is the matter?”
Mary pulled back and did her best to keep the moisture in her eyes from spilling over. No matter how many times her tears wet her pillow, there seemed to be more the next day. She wiped her cheeks dry and forced a smile. “I’ve missed you is all. How is my sister? And how is the new baby?”
“Jillian is exhausted. Baby June is darling. And I would not be surprised if their nursemaid does not bring the rest of her children here within the fortnight. I told Jillian to send them with me, but she would not be parted from them.”
Mary frowned. “Oh dear. That doesn’t sound good.”
“No,” her mother answered. “You know how stubborn your sister is. Her health is vastly more important than a few weeks without her older children.”
“But how did you arrive home in the same carriage as my brothers?”
“They stopped to see the baby on their way home from visiting Rosewood Park. So here I am.”
Anton cleared his throat. “Well, if no one has a hug for their favorite brother, I shall just be off then.”
Mary turned to her generally serious brother and couldn’t help but try to tease a smile. “Of course I have a hug for Terrance. Where is he?”
Terrance came up behind Anton. Since Terrance was taller, his amused expression could not be hidden. “Did someone say my name?”
Anton groaned. “Very well. Every woman seems to favor him. Why should you be no different?”
Mary spread her arms and leapt towards Anton before he could step away. She knew he must be heartbroken—she felt the same unrequited love towards Blake—and she longed to comfort her brother.
“I’m only teasing.” She pulled back and narrowed her eyes. “You know I love you and Terrance the exact same. Which hardly means anything since I am still angry you left me in the first place.”
“You didn’t miss anything,” Anton huffed.
“Was it so very awful?” Mary could only imagine Miss Bliss rolling her eyes at her brothers’ attempts to woo her.
Terrance stepped forward and put his arm around Mary. “Not so very terrible as all that.” He grinned at her like he’d escaped the misery of falling for Miss Bliss unlike everyone else.
Mary leaned into him, happy to have her family home at last. “You can say that Terrance, only because you left without any intention of winning over any hearts.”
“He is the one who conquered,” Anton said with a sigh, “where Gunther and I did not.”
Mary blanched. “Wait, what does this mean?” She needed someone to spell it out for her.
Anton pointed to Terrance. “He’s engaged to be married.”
Pulling out of Terrance’s arm, Mary stared at him. “You? But…” she sputtered. “You told me you did not intend to marry. How did this happen?”
Terrance shrugged. “Generally, a man asks a woman to marry her and then the lady says either yes or no. In this case, she said yes.”
“She chose you?” Mary put her hands to her temples.
Terrance rolled his eyes. “If you will not believe me, then who shall?”
Realizing she’d hurt Terrance’s feelings, she dropped her hands. “Forgive me. You are just as handsome as Anton and Blake.”
“Mr. Gunther,” her mother corrected, after handing Pearl her hat. While Mother was an unusually tenderhearted countess, she spent a great deal of time attempting to train her children in the formalities of society. “You are not children. How many times must I remind you?”
“Please, Mother. Mary was just telling me how handsome I am.” Terrance grinned at Mary. “Go ahead.”
Terrance tapped his chin as he thought. “Seven weeks, six days, and three hours.”
“Utterly maddening,” Anton said, stalking off. “Send him away so we shall have peace until then.”
Mary and Terrance watched him leave.
“Anton may never forgive me,” Terrance whispered. His tone held true sorrow.
“Give him time,” Mary said, reaching for his arm. “He did not love her, just the idea of her.”
“Yes, well, tell that to Gunther too.”
Mary did not even want to know how crushed Blake was. Even as she thought it, she started trying to imagine the answer. Was he heartbroken? She shook her head. The man was an idiot. Why should she care if he nursed a heartache? He deserved worse.
“Why the scowl?” Terrance asked. “You think Gunther will hate me forever too?”
Mary lifted her gaze back to meet Terrance’s. “I hope he does. I hope he stays as far away from you and this family as the plague. I hope Blake … ”
“Mr. Gunther,” her mother corrected, popping her head out from the drawing room door before disappearing again.
Mary made an unladylike grunt and folded her arms across her chest.
“What is it with you two?” Terrance asked, real concern on his face.
How to explain? With her heart safe a little longer, now all she could feel was anger. “All you need to know is that if the house is burning down and only Mr. Gunther and a sack of rotten potatoes are left inside, I’m going to save the potatoes!”
Mary spun around and marched back up the stairs. It didn’t matter if Blake was still unattached. Perhaps deep, deep inside she could admit to a touch of relief he did not marry so soon after ... well, it didn’t matter. With no more reason to cry over the man, now she could just focus on her anger. At least her brothers had the sense to leave Blake at his home and not bring him here.
The last thing she wanted was to ever, ever see the man again. She stomped into her room and shut the door with a little too much force. She pulled out a piece of paper and sat at her desk. With her drawing pencils, she sketched a rough image. First the eyes. Blake’s eyes were dark, deceiving her that those pools of brown could see into her soul. She drew his nose, this time without the accuracy she’d given his eyes. She extended the nose making it long and bulbous. His smile came next—his wickedly, corrupt lips. She made his teeth long in front and added his signature dimples. She sighed. Those beautiful dimples. Her eyes hardened as she scribbled away at his blond hair. The man thought he had the hair of Adonis the way he fluffed it constantly.
Blake Gunther was a conceited cow.
When she finished, she stood and walked to a picture on the wall depicting Banbury Castle, her home. She’d sketched it and father had framed it for her. She pulled it down and stabbed Blake’s portrait onto the nail. There. Now she only required a few darts to throw at it. Or rocks. Whichever she could find first. She put the frame on the desk and grabbed her shawl for a walk. A bit of fresh air and some harmless entertainment would rid her heart of the only man she had ever loved.
Chapter 2
Blake Gunther might go mad. His own mother sat before him with cold accusations on her tongue. There was not an ounce of doting sympathy for his recent broken heart. Convinced of his rogue behavior—heartless, indulgent, and without morals—Blake might as well have been an advocate of the devil.
“My son, my own flesh and blood, is a vile sinner.”
Blake resisted rolling his eyes and appealed to his mother’s sensibilities. Sure, Blake enjoyed harmless flirtations, but nothing untoward. “The neighbors are simply jealous. Their sons do not come from handsome stock like me. It is to your own credit, you know. Have some pride in your offspring.”
His mother threw her head in her hands and began to weep. “My son is an adulterer!”
Blake’s eyes bulged and his mouth unhinged. He knew of a rumor or two with his name attached, but this was a bit thick. He turned to his father. His, dear, useless father. Never had he known a man more spineless. His father gave him a commiserating glance and then went back to his beetle collection.
Sometimes Blake thought he must have been adopted from some unknown family. He was nothing like his parents in personality. However, he had the same broad shoulders of his mother and the same blond hair and stormy eyes as his, much shorter, father. Blake did love them both dearly, even if he could not understand them.
He leaned forward and handed his mother a handkerchief. She accepted it, mopped up her face, and blew her nose like a trumpet.
“There, there, Mother. Do not upset yourself needlessly.”
His mother’s eyes jumped to his. “No? While you were away at a house party, your father and I were subject to a visit from three different people, including the vicar. Each had a story and bade us to caution you before more young ladies suffered at your hand.”
Blake sat back and the stiff wooden chair in their library creaked as if it might snap under his weight. He was not a small man. He had won many rounds in the pugilist ring in college but turned a spectator when he realized the importance of keeping his face unmarred and all his teeth—two important things for a bachelor.
“Everyone steals a kiss now and then,” Blake petitioned, “but I promise I am a gentleman, and you do not have any reason to be disappointed in me.”
“Stealing kisses?” His mother gasped, and she nearly knocked her lacy mobcap from her head as she flung her hand to her forehead. “Mr. Gunther? Mr. Gunther?”
“Yes, dear?” his father asked, holding a large magnifying glass up to his latest acquired sample.
“Did you hear what he said?”
“I did,” his father answered, completely uninterested.
“I am afraid there is only one course of action.” His mother took a deep breath to calm her nerves and then offered his death sentence. “I’m cutting you off until you marry. You can have your horse, but if you travel farther than twenty miles, I will see he is gone too.”
Blake gripped the chair so hard the arm fell off. He turned to secure it back. He should never have returned home. At least he could go to his friend’s house a few miles away. He’d spent most of his youth there avoiding his unhinged family.
Blake turned back to his parents. “Surely, you cannot be serious. You can trust that I am who I say I am. When have I ever disappointed you? Hmm?”
His mother’s brow raised. “When you were eight and broke the window in the garden shed. When you were ten and cut off the braid of Lady Mary. When you were fourteen and put your father’s beetle collection on the cake we served the vicar. When you were fifteen and scared the children at the cemetery. When you were seventeen and I received a letter from school of your repeated nighttime wanderings. Need I go on? I think I could entertain us both for several days with my recounting. The point is, you have gone too far this time.”
His mother generally exaggerated, but her list of his misdeeds was painfully and entirely accurate. He did not esteem himself as much of a troublemaker until she painted his character so perfectly. Now even he wondered.
“No money?”
“Not a farthing.”
Blake swallowed back the breakfast that threatened to make an ugly appearance. That meant no leaving town. That meant living with his parents, possibly until his father died and he received his inheritance. He looked at his father. The man was healthier than most his age. He spent most of his time out of doors exercising as he searched for his bugs.
A sigh escaped his mouth, and he found himself humbly agreeing to the situation presented to him. What was his choice? The cards were stacked against him. His father would never be persuaded to argue with his wife. And his mother, an ostentatiously stubborn woman, had him pegged as a philanderer.
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br /> Blake excused himself and made his way to the stables. A bruising ride would do him good. A stable boy brought out Stargazer, his handsome Arabian blood horse. Was it a crime if Blake possessed nice things? Would someone slander his name because of his horse too? He wished he had the names of his accusers. The vicar never liked him, so no surprise there. But who were the others that threw his name under the cart?
He mounted his horse and urged him into a run. The countryside around his home soothed him as nothing else could. He did look forward to coming home, but this—the trees, the open space, the clean air—this is what pulled him there every summer, not the stone and mortar. His younger sisters were fun to tease, but there was a decade gap between them in age. Thankfully, his best friends were like his brothers and treated him as one of their family. He could see Banbury Castle as Stargazer’s long strides narrowed the distance.
The castle had belonged to the earl’s family for only a few generations and had been rebuilt to outwardly resemble the medieval fortress it had once been. The enclosed courtyard in its gray, boxlike shape with menacing brattices might not seem welcoming to some, but what was left of the moat and the defensive border wall provided hours of playtime for a couple of boisterous boys. Blake did not even realize he’d intended on visiting today. The route was habitual after all these years.
Stargazer loped across the Banbury Bridge, past the market place, and around the back of the castle toward the stables. Blake was sweating when he pulled Stargazer to a stop—worse than his horse. He gave the reigns over to Lord Crawford’s stable hand and stalked off toward the gardens. Now that he was here, he didn’t care to see or talk to anyone. Anton would commiserate with him, and Terrance, well, Terrance would be pining for his sweet fiancé. The girl he stole from Blake.
“You!”
Blake whipped his head around, surprised to see Mary behind him, walking near a small orchard. Well, it was Lady Mary now, but since she had always been simply Mary since they were children, it seemed difficult to call her anything else.
Lady Mary Contrary: Regency Ever After book 2