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- Herausgeber: WS
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
It’s 1827 and the Brayemore’s are planning a return to London as Algeria creeps closer to the brink of war.
Aurora, the family’s maid, longs to go home to Spain with her fiancée, Julian, but they lack the money. Desperate to stay together, the couple come up with a way to reunite in England.
When Lady Brayemore orders Aurora to stay in Algeria, however, the lovers struggle with the threat of separation. With political tensions mounting, Aurora and Julian are running out of options.
As the rumors of a blockade loom, a wealthy socialite offers the young lovers an enticing plan, but it has a dark twist. She will get them on the last ship sailing for Spain if they kidnap the young Miss Rowena Brayemore.
Is Aurora willing to forfeit her home and her love? Out of time and options, will Aurora choose honor and loyalty to the Brayemore’s? Or will she commit this dark deed to get home?
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Seitenzahl: 68
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021
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Aurora's Dilemma
Prelude to Stepping Across the Desert
Kat Caldwell
Copyright © 2021 by Kat Caldwell
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Thank you, Elaine Kane!
Iwas blocked on what to name this sweet novella until Elaine saved the day! She suggested Aurora's Dilemma, which I thought was perfect. Thank you, Elaine!
Contents
Chapter One
Algeria, 1827
“What are you doing out here? It’s the middle of the morning and you think it’s time to rest? We have a dinner party to get ready for. Get moving, lazy girl!”
Chafiq’s low, heavy voice invaded the quiet of the garden, sending Aurora flying from her spot leaning against the stucco wall.
“Get on.”
“You never take a break, Chafiq?” Aurora asked, twisted her lips into a smile. Truthfully, she had never seen him take a break, but everyone cut corners somehow.
Chafiq’s heavy set eyebrows came together, his eyes narrowing. With the four scars on his face from his time as a former ship slave, and his bushy brown hair and eyebrows, Chafiq always looked terrifying. When he looked at her like that, he seemed ready to eat her alive.
Aurora swallowed hard, then shrugged and walked away, trying to be as slow and deliberate in her step as possible. It infuriated her the way these former slaves thought they had the authority to boss her around.
Each day she regretted more signing on to work for the elegant and rich Mr. Brayemore. An English merchant who had lived in Madrid for six months with his daughter, sweeping up the attention of the rich as though equal to royalty. The way all the other servants spoke about him convinced Aurora that working in his household would be better than staying with Señora Manuella, a minor dame of the Spanish royalty. She was about a hundred years old when Aurora started at age twelve, stank of rotten cabbage, and demanded foot massages from Aurora’s small hands.
She had to admit, being a chambermaid to Señora Manuella was slightly better than being a washing maid or the dishwasher. The skin on their hands was always peeling off. Aurora admired her own hands, rough around some edges. Certainly not like a wealthy woman, but soft enough from rubbing oil on them every night. That was one perk of working for Señor Brayemore.
Aurora took her time wandering along the stone pathway between the lilacs before finally making her way to the house. The idea of working for a young mistress appealed to Aurora when she applied for the job. A bit like having a distant older sister to look up to. Aurora had thought it would be nice to work for someone as young as Miss Rowena. Leaving behind her family in Madrid had been difficult. She hadn’t really understood she would go with the Brayemores to Algeria when she first started working for them, but soon enough the idea appealed to her. She’d been nowhere but Madrid before. Seeing the sea for the first time was both frightening and glorious. And though she didn’t love Algeria, she had found her love here: Julian. A man introduced to her by footman, Randolph. The moment Aurora met Julian, she knew he was the one she should marry.
Aurora retrieved the basket of cut irises she had left in the sun half an hour before, the original reason for her mid-morning excursion to the garden. Señorita Rowena never went one day without fresh flowers. The old, dying ones were so generously given to the servants. From an arched-shaped window on the house’s second floor drifted down the notes of piano music, followed by Señorita Rowena singing.
“Through the kitchen then,” Aurora grumbled to herself. She usually avoided the kitchen, but once Señorita Rowena started her singing lessons, the young mistress banned all traffic through the first floor of the house.
“What are you doing down here?” a voice demanded in French.
Thelma, a woman twice as tall and three times as wide as Aurora, blocked the way through the small door leading to the cooking area. She was more of a guard to the pantry than she was a cook.
“I’m bringing flowers up to Miss Rowena’s room and thought I would bring her some tea as well. She’s singing.”
“With her big concert tonight? She’s gonna lose that precious voice of hers if she isn’t careful,” Thelma grumbled as she heaved her bulk back into the pantry, rummaging sounds echoing out.
Aurora plucked a strawberry from the bowl on the table, unconcerned, when she noticed two small, brown eyes across the way, watching her. Aurora smiled, her eyebrows raised, daring Amelie to snitch, knowing she wouldn’t. Amelie might be the true cook of the house, the one that made the pears look like roses and the duck taste French, but Aurora knew how to gather secrets about each servant. When Amelie started waking up with puffy eyes, Aurora stayed awake one night and caught her sneaking out to meet her lover.
And Amelie knew it, which was why Aurora knew she wouldn’t snitch.
“Okay, move now. Out of the way. Give me the teacup,” Thelma demanded, her large hips shoving Aurora to the side. Aurora turned her face away and gulped down the tart berry in her mouth. “Where are you going?”
“To take her the flowers.”
“But you say you take her tea.” Thelma stared at Aurora, her dark eyes searching for lies.
Aurora adjusted the flowers to cover her mouth in case bits of strawberry flecked her teeth. If only she had a secret on Thelma, she could use to stop the woman from lording her status over her. “You go, take the flowers, then come right back here. No stopping. No loitering. No telling me you are coming and then you don’t come.”
Aurora nodded her head, swallowing a sharp response hanging from her tongue. Past the stone-floored kitchen and halfway up the stairs, she allowed some choice words to roll off her tongue in Spanish, though in a whisper. She would not let Thelma get her down. Tomorrow was market day, which meant she would see Julian.
***“Hola, mi amor.” Two large hands grasped Aurora firmly around her waist as she stood waiting for an ancient, very slow vendor to fold the ivory buttons into brown paper.
Aurora jumped. “Julian, you scared me.” She wiggled out of his grasp, enjoying the way his fingers lingered until forced to drop to his side. “How did you get away?”
Julian shrugged. “I find my ways to see you.” His smile showed two crooked front teeth that endeared Aurora to him from the moment she first met him. Him feigning that leaving his responsibilities at the dock was as easy as taking a stroll made her love him even more.
Once she had the buttons finally in hand, Julian took the packages and they stepped out into the street, away from the market. The Algerian spring sun was already scorching by midday. Aurora tugged at the ribbons on her hat, bringing the rim closer to her eyes.
“Have you heard about the French?” Julian asked. “They are arguing with Algeria about the wheat debt. Or a payment. Or something like that. Today is the first day that there are fewer ships in the harbor.”
Aurora stopped, looking up in alarm at him. “Is it war?”
Julian shrugged. “The French just came out of war. I don’t know. Could they afford another? And with Algeria?”
He nodded his head towards two men down a narrow alley who were beating another. Probably for stealing or not paying a debt. Aurora shuddered.
“I know nothing about war. I only care about our plans.”
“I care about our plans as well. They are staying as they are. We save money, you take what you can from the house, we sell it and we leave this place for Spain.”
