Her Heart To Win E-Book

Jasmina Svenne

• Herausgeber: WS
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Serie: Regency Romance
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 247

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

When the rakishly handsome Jem Hale impudently accosts demure schoolteacher Marianne in the street, little do either of them know what dramatic repercussions their meeting – and a drunken bet among Jem and his acquaintances – will have on their lives, and on those in their wider social circle too…

Leseprobe

HER HEART TO WIN

by Jasmina Svenne

Chapter 1

T

he clattering of horse’s hooves shattered the tranquillity of the hot September afternoon. Lily Baines had been picking apples in the Westfall’s orchard. At the sound of the commotion, she dropped the basket, hitched up her skirt and raced towards the bordering hedgerow.

Standing on tip-toe she saw the approaching carriage hurtling towards her. It was pulled by two black horses and Lily saw at once that they were travelling far too fast for this rutted, pot-holed track. No-one in their right mind travelled at such a speed along here.

“Slow down!” she shouted as the horses drew level with her.

The coachman merely cracked his whip in the air, urging the horses to go faster. For a fleeting second she glimpsed the solitary passenger inside the carriage. He seemed unperturbed at being driven at breakneck speed and Lily wondered if it could be Prudence’s suitor. He wasn’t due for hours yet, although if he’d travelled all the way to Sussex from London at this rate, it could indeed be him.

She would soon know. There was a fork in the road ahead. If the carriage veered right, then his destination was indeed Westfall Manor. And if that was the case, she needed to hurry back if she was to make apple pie for pudding tonight, as promised.

Just as the horses veered to the right, there came the most awful wood-against-metal grinding crunch. The carriage lurched to one side, stopping the horses in their tracks and shooting the coachman clean off his seat to land on the stony ground. A moment later both horses were rearing and whinnying in fright.

For the carriage wheel to get stuck in a rut didn’t really come as a shock to Lily, but nevertheless, she broke into a run. If the driver didn’t scramble clear quickly, the horses’ hooves could catch him a nasty blow. If Prudence’s suitor was the passenger, Lily felt it her duty to make sure he wasn’t hurt. It was one thing warning Prudence that her father’s old friend, widower Jude Mitchell, sounded totally unsuitable for an eighteen year old; another to render him unsuitable owing to the fact that he was dead.

Finding a gap in the thorny hedgerow, Lily squeezed through, dragging twigs and leaves with her, snagging her clothing on the sharp prickles. As she ran towards the stricken carriage she saw, to her relief the passenger emerging from the carriage. Quickly he set about dragging the coachman to the side of the road out of danger from flaying hooves. He attempted to calm the frightened horses, but it was clear to Lily that he had little equestrian experience.

Thinking swiftly, she pulled off her linen shawl as she ran. Reaching the carriage, she thrust the garment at the passenger, aware that if he was Jude Mitchell, he was nothing like she imagined. “Here, cover the horse’s eyes. If he can’t see, he’ll calm down.”

The man turned his head, clearly startled to see her, and to Lily’s annoyance, he cast a lingering glance over her before looking at the shawl she was offering.

Glancing down she saw to her dismay that her blouse had lost its two top buttons and there was far too much cleavage on show. She hoped her glare was scathing enough to make him concentrate on calming the horses before they hurt themselves or anyone else.

“I’ll give it a try,” he said, taking the square of embroidered linen and somehow, avoiding the thrashing hooves, managed to drape it over the nearest horse’s eyes. Miraculously, it did the trick. The horse stopped its frantic rearing and stood calmly, steam rising from its glistening body. The other horse followed suit and within seconds both were perfectly still. The passenger looked astonished. “Well, I’ll be damned!”

“I certainly hope not,” said Lily, not caring for his language. It was hardly the sort of vocabulary to use in front of a young lady. She turned away, holding her dishevelled blouse together as she strode over to the coachman, now sitting on a grassy verge getting his breath back.

“I know I should ask if you’re hurt, but actually you brought this accident on yourself. Surely you could see that this lane isn’t suitable for charging along at breakneck speed!”

The man got to his feet, dusting himself down. “It’s the first time I’ve been to this part of Sussex and my passenger was in a hurry.”

“More hurry, less speed!” stated Lily, repeating a phrase often used by the manor’s cook, Mrs Pritchard – a woman who seemed to have an appropriate expression for all occasions. “Well, now you see where such haste has got you!”

Lily spun round to point to the lop-sided carriage, only to find that the passenger, whoever he was, was standing so close behind her that she stepped right into him.

The palms of her hands landed flat against his chest. The heat and firmness of his body through his loose fitting white shirt seemed to burn her and she sprang backwards as if struck by a flame. “Oh!”

Her touch didn’t seem to have startled him however. If anything it seemed to make his eyes smoulder as he gazed down at her. He had eyes the colour of a summer’s sky and a face that was lean and angled, strong cheekbones and a jawline that warned of arrogance, yet his mouth seemed on the verge of a smile. There was a small scar over his right eyebrow and his hair was raven black, swept back from his brow and falling in silky strands to his broad shoulders. The entire appearance of the man and his close proximity caused her heart to flutter. It was a sensation quite new – and alarming to her.

Lily’s own violet-coloured eyes swept from that far too handsome face to his throat, noticing a tangle of dark hairs through the laced-up slit at the neck of his shirt. His style of garb was quite buccaneer, like the character Don Juan that she’d read about in a novel in Sir Joseph’s library.

His shirt was tucked into the wide and ornate leather belt of his buttoned-up breeches, and those in turn tucked into knee-high leather boots. His stance was firm, legs a little apart, as if he was aboard a ship on the high seas.

Immediately she halted her fanciful thoughts, aware that he was smiling at her. It was far too familiar a smile, certainly not a respectful smile. This was a downright flirtatious smile, and she tugged her blouse together again, wishing the buttons hadn’t pinged off as she’d battled through the hedgerow.

“My dear lady, we are indebted to you. That was an incredibly brave thing to do. You could have been struck by the horses’ hooves.”

He had a deep, melodic voice, which Lily was loathe to admit, sounded like music to her ears. She stiffened her resolve. Quite clearly he knew how handsome he was, and no doubt he thought he could charm every woman he met. Well it was not going to work with her.

Feeling as stiff and starched as one of Lady Hester’s gowns, Lily said, “More to the point is the reckless way the coachman came hurtling along the lane…”

“We apologise.” His smile widened, making tiny lines appear around his wickedly sparkling eyes, as if he found this all so amusing. “I apologise. The coachman was only following my orders.”

It was as if her body was on fire. Men often smiled and tried to win a smile back from her, and once she’d even had a marriage proposal – of sorts. But never had a man so outrageously handsome paid her such attention. She felt completely out of her depth, and the worse of it was, she found it almost impossible not to be drawn to those seductive eyes.

Drawing on all her willpower, Lily tilted her chin, looking beyond him to the stricken carriage. She was not about to stand here arguing all day. She had better things to do. Although if she was honest, she had very little to do, but that wasn’t by choice. She was neither family nor staff at Westfall Manor, merely their guilty burden.

“Being sorry is hardly going to get the carriage out of that pothole. You’re going to need help.” As she spoke she could practically hear Lady Hester’s tone exactly. No wonder Prudence teased her for being so prim and proper.

“We certainly will need help,” the passenger mused, striding back to the stricken carriage.

With his back to her, Lily couldn’t fail to notice the width of his shoulders and how his back tapered down to a lean waist. She assumed he was in his early thirties and clearly by his physique, he led an active life. It was impossible not to gaze further at the firmness of his athletic body. He was the stuff of her secret fantasies. However, fantasy and daydreaming were the limit of her experience with men, but in her head her thoughts drifted wildly. She felt the sudden rush of colour to her cheeks – just as he turned to speak to her again.

He went to say something, and then stopped. Instead his lips twitched into a knowing smile. “You look very pretty when you blush.”

“I’m certainly not blushing,” she snapped, her bosom rising in annoyance at his audacity. “I’m flustered, and understandably so!” And marching past him she retrieved her shawl that was still draped over the horse’s head. She was glad to slip it around her shoulders, covering her cleavage and feeling just a little less vulnerable.

With the horses standing perfectly calmly, she stroked their noses. “You poor things. What a fright that must have given you. But it’s all right now. Good boys.”

“You know about horses?”

He was standing right beside her again, and Lily marvelled at the softness of his step for such a large individual. She was quite tall and willowy herself, standing at five feet six, but he was head and shoulders taller than her.

She flashed a look at him from beneath her eyelashes. “I know that they react to kindness rather than a whip.”

“I don’t whip them, Miss,” the coachman interrupted, coming over and fussing his steeds. “These are my babies, they’re everything to me. I wouldn’t treat them badly. The whip’s just for the sound, and they love to run, honestly. Just bad luck that we hit a pothole.”

Judging by the way the horses were nuzzling his chest and hand, Lily sensed he was telling the truth but she kept her tone clipped and her delicate chin tilted. “I’m pleased to hear that. Only now, we need to get some help.”

The buccaneer passenger turned at the word we and she instantly regretted including herself in the suggestion. And why, oh why, did he have to keep looking at her in such a disarming way. He really was quite the expert in flirtation.

“I noticed that we passed through a village a mile or so back,” the passenger said, the intimacy of his gaze causing her stomach to flutter and her heartbeat to quicken. “Could anyone there assist us, do you think?”

“Possibly,” Lily answered, thinking of the blacksmith or Ted Draper, one of the farmers off the estate – who had proposed to her not six months ago.

She quickly decided that the village blacksmith would be their best choice. Ted Draper was a good man, and would certainly help anyone, but his proposal – so out of the blue, had left her feeling awkward around him.

“There’s a blacksmith in the village who owns a very sturdy Shire horse. This won’t be the first time he’s come to the aid of reckless travellers.”

The buccaneer passenger, whoever he was, didn’t seem perturbed at being labelled reckless. Rather, his face lit up as he turned to the coachman. “Excellent! So, my good man, you stay with the horses and my luggage, while the young lady and I find a kindly Samaritan to help us out of our predicament.”

“Right you are, sir.”

Lily’s eyes widened in alarm. She had no intention of going anywhere with this man, this stranger. The prospect sent tremors through her slender body. Heatedly she said, “I’m sure you’ll find him perfectly easily enough. His is the first cottage on the right, opposite the duck pond. He has a painted sign on his gate saying Carter and Son, Blacksmith.”

His far too handsome head tilted to one side, clear blue eyes appealing to her better nature. “Am I right in thinking that you know the blacksmith, and he knows you?”

This man had a charm that did the strangest thing to her common sense. “Well, yes, but...”

“Then we may have more luck in enlisting his help if you were to accompany me.”

She looked at the hopeful, boyish, irresistible expression on his face and felt all resistance melt away. That look had no doubt charmed many a young lady and it thoroughly irritated her to realise she was fighting a losing battle too.

However, she had an apple pie to make. She’d promised Mrs Pritchard, the cook. She wrestled with her conscience – and the fact that it was dangerous and irresponsible to go walking through quiet country lanes with a stranger – and a very disarming, exceedingly handsome stranger at that.

As if reading her mind, he stepped back and bowed outrageously. “Forgive me, I’m being presumptuous. Your kindness has exceeded all expectations already. I’m sorry for burdening you with our troubles.” That expression was back. Intense blue eyes lingered on her mouth, making her feel that he longed to kiss her. “And very attractive shoulders too, if I may say so.”

Heat rushed up her throat and into her cheeks again. He was an out-and-out flirt, a womaniser. No doubt Prudence would know how to deal with such a man; she was an outrageous flirt herself. But Lily had no idea how to handle him. She’d never been in a situation where a man was so clearly attempting to seduce her.

“You may not say so!” She lifted her chin, blushing or not, she met that gaze with a hostile glare of her own. “I find your attentions and attitude quite... unacceptable.”

She had the feeling that the coachman was hiding a smirk, and no doubt the passenger found this whole situation titillating.

His expression became suddenly quite forlorn however. “I apologise, profusely. While I have no right to ask any favours of you, your continued assistance would be greatly valued.”

He looked so humble suddenly that Lily felt the urge to giggle. She rallied quickly, she had no intention of dropping her guard where this man was concerned.

Nevertheless, the carriage needed to be moved. The Westfall’s guest – if this wasn’t him – was due within the next few hours. She certainly hoped this man was not Jude Mitchell. This individual was clearly not a suitable husband for her dear friend, Prudence – nor in fact for any woman in her right mind. A man about to meet his possible new wife should not be flirting with the first woman he bumped into.

Making her decision, and aware that she sounded like a prim school mistress, she marched off towards the village, calling back over her shoulder, “Oh, very well, I’ll introduce you to Abe Carter. He’ll want paying first you know!”

He caught up with her in a few easy strides and she sensed his bemusement. She focused straight ahead, at the leafy green lane bordered by hedgerows lush with plump blackberries. The air was sweet with the fragrance of ripe fruit and wild flowers, but Lily was more aware – acutely aware – of the man at her side. The breathlessness she felt was not due to any lack of fitness on her part. It was because of him. Her body felt aflame and there was a tingling of desire deep inside her abdomen. She tried to banish the sensation, to think of other things – anything to take her mind off this undeniably attractive, if annoying, man at her side.

Deliberately, she concentrated her thoughts on the morning’s events, when she had been summoned into the Westfall’s drawing room. They had all been lined up, Sir Joseph, Lady Hester and Prudence, overshadowed by sombre oil paintings of past occupiers of the Sussex estate. The only cheerful face had been Prudence’s.

As Lily had approached them, smart in her long apple green skirt and ruffled buttoned-up blouse, her honey-coloured hair fastened neatly in a twist at the back of her neck, she saw Sir Joseph catch his breath. Immediately his wife had cast him a sharp, reproachful glance.

The moment passed fleetingly, and while Lily wondered what had caused their reactions she hadn’t ventured to ask. She had simply bobbed a little curtsy, as if she were a member of staff and politely said good morning to them all.

“Good morning, Lily,” they had replied in unison, and then Prudence had lunged forwards and hugged her.

“Happy 18th birthday, Lily! You’ve caught me up! Oh, how I wish it was my birthday, getting presents. Lucky, lucky you!”

“I know,” Lily had agreed, and would loved to have matched her enthusiasm had Lady Hester’s gaze not been quite so severe.

Prudence linked her father’s arm. He patted her hand affectionately, but his blue-grey eyes were still focused on Lily, oblivious to his wife’s dagger-like glances. His expression was curious, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

Usually he avoided eye contact. Over the years he had averted his gaze so often that Lily had given up hoping he would show her any real affection. Not that she really expected any, not any more. They had given her a good education and a good home but she was well aware that her presence here was not out of love. It was an act of charity – which Hester regularly reminded her of.

Lily’s foot suddenly caught in a pothole and she stumbled. Jolted back to reality she felt a strong arm around her waist, catching her and stopping her from falling headlong into the rutted lane.

“Careful!” came that deep melodic voice.

Glad not to have gone sprawling into the dust, Lily realised he was in no hurry to release her – and to her shame she was in no hurry to be released. The strength of his arm was reassuring and his touch was sending delicious shivers up and down her spine. She had never been held so tightly nor so closely. Her cheeks flamed again and reluctantly she wriggled from his grip, putting an end to this foolishness at once.

No doubt he was in the habit of catching women as they stumbled. She wouldn’t put it past him to have tripped her just so he could catch her.

“Thank you!” she said stiffly.

“You were miles away. What were you thinking?”

She looked up from beneath her long sweep of eyelashes. “If you must know, I was thinking what a fine birthday this was turning out to be!”

His black eyebrows arched in surprise. “It’s your birthday? Well, may I offer you the warmest of good wishes!” To her astonishment, he took her hand and brought it up to his lips.

It happened so smoothly and so suddenly that Lily could only hold her breath as he softly placed a kiss on the back of her hand. In doing so, his intense blue eyes locked onto hers, smouldering with a desire that sent shivers through her.

She drew her hand swiftly away, annoyed by her own emotions as much as his audacity. He was certainly a womaniser, a man out to charm every female he met.

She wasn’t in the habit of succumbing to such blatant seduction. The fact was, she had never kissed a man let alone anything else – and she would certainly not be giving her innocence away to the likes of this individual.

“I apologise again,” he said, not looking in the least apologetic. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Nor are you likely to!” Lily answered abruptly, deciding he was far too forward. “Why should I give you my name when I don’t know the first thing about you?”

Nothing she said seemed to affect his good humour. He simply smiled as if he sensed her pompous demeanour was just an act, and then he bowed in a ridiculously flamboyant manner and said, “My beautiful lady, allow me to introduce myself. Jude Mitchell, merchant fleet owner and captain, at your service.”

Chapter 2

L

ily wasn’t really surprised to discover he was Prudence’s suitor, but she was disappointed. As predicted, she was quite correct in guessing Sir Joseph’s old friend would not be suitable for Prudence but not because he was too old or too dreary – far from it. He was far too experienced to be faithful to Prudence. Here he was, travelling to meet Prudence with a view to marriage and he was instantly trying to charm her into bed.

She concentrated hard on these facts, and pushed aside the realisation that to her shame, she was physically attracted to Prudence’s prospective husband. Prudence was her dearest friend. Not a sister, but the closest she would ever come to having family.

“I see,” she murmured as she walked on, taking care to avoid the ruts and potholes.

He strode along beside her. “Now that you know I’m not some wanted criminal, will you let me know your name? I glimpsed you in that orchard. Your home must be nearby?”

“It is actually!” she declared, guessing he was going to be utterly ashamed of his flirtatious behaviour when he discovered she was one of the Westfall.... no, not family, not even staff. But she did live at Westfall Manor. And she knew his reason for calling. She stopped abruptly and tilted her chin at him. “That was the Westfall’s orchard, and all the farms and cottages around here are part of the Westfall estate...”

“And you are Prudence Westfall, Sir Joseph’s daughter!” His face lit up. “Yes, I can see you are. I remember when I was a boy, and he visited my father at London Docks, he had golden hair, exactly your shade.”

Lily finally squeezed a word in edgeways. “No, I am not Prudence Westfall, and I’m not Sir Joseph’s daughter.”

He looked stunned. For the first time since meeting him, Lily saw that he was quite thrown by her words.

A frown creased his broad, tanned forehead. “You’re his niece then?”

“We are no relation. I live at the Manor and my name is Lily Baines.”

“Lily Baines!” he seemed to let the words roll over his tongue. “Then I apologise for my assumptions and I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Lily.”

“Likewise,” she said, because it was the polite thing to say. The Westfalls had brought her up to be well mannered whatever the circumstances. They’d given her the same nanny and private tutoring as they’d given their only daughter. It was the hugs and affection that had been missing.

Sometimes it felt like Sir Joseph and Lady Hester saw her as their cross to bear. Clearly they felt guilty for her growing up as an orphan. Lily knew she was a constant reminder of how they’d failed to notice their scullery maid, Lillian Baines, was pregnant; failed to notice that eighteen years ago Lillian had gone into labour without a doctor present. No doubt they constantly rebuked themselves for not doing enough to save Lillian’s life, although her baby had been born safely.

He touched her arm, a touch that sent unwelcome tingles through her body. She saw that he was merely indicating another pothole ahead that needed avoiding. “So, Lily, what do you do at the Manor?”

She hesitated. Sir Joseph and Hester asked nothing from her. She wasn’t even expected to work as one of the staff. She wished she was a member of staff. At least then she would know her place. Know what her role in life was. She couldn’t explain all that to him, though. Instead she said, “I cook,” which was the truth. “I’m not the main cook. I’m more of an apprentice.”

“Excellent. They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” There was amusement in his voice and Lily felt his gaze burning through her. Deliberately she focused straight ahead.

“Mrs Pritchard, the cook at the Manor is always saying the same, but believe me, Mr Mitchell...” she turned to look up into his face, to stress the point, “I have no intentions of worming my way into anyone’s heart. I cook because I enjoy cooking, and of course to feed people.”

“Admirable!” His white teeth glinted in the afternoon sunshine. “And will I be tasting any of your no doubt delicious culinary delights?”

“You were to have apple pie and custard for your pudding this evening. That’s what I was doing in the orchard. Now however, other things seem to have taken priority.”

“Alas, that’s true. And I’ve no-one to blame but myself.” He smiled ruefully. “It’s a pity you have to work on your birthday.”

She almost said that she didn’t have to work. That it was her choice to help Mrs Pritchard. Instead she replied, “I love cooking, I don’t think of it as a chore.”

“Will you be celebrating with your family later?”

Lily’s eyes fluttered shut for a second. Birthdays had never been a reason for celebration. How could she celebrate the day her mother died? She prayed her chin didn’t quiver nor her voice catch in her throat as she said, “I don’t have any family, Mr Mitchell.”

His stride faltered. “Your parents are dead? I’m sorry to hear that.”

A wave of sorrow rushed up from inside her, overwhelming her. Her mother had been just her age when she died. Sir Joseph and Lady Hester had told her very little about her mother, their scullery maid. What she knew of her had come from Mrs Pritchard. Controlling her voice, hoping desperately to hide any tremors, she answered, “Thank you.”

A firm hand gripped her elbow. She assumed it was to warn her of another pothole, but his expression was sympathetic, his blue eyes shining, as if he knew what she was feeling. Lily remembered then that he was a widower. His grief could be worse as he had known his wife, whereas she had never known her mother. As for her father, she had no idea at all.

“What happened?” he asked, his tone far gentler than she’d expect from a man like him.

She wasn’t about to tell him that she was the Westfall family’s guilty secret. That she was illegitimate. He would naturally think badly of her mother. So she simply replied, “It was a long time ago, I don’t remember very much and I don’t care to talk about it.” She cast him a quick glance, wondering if she were being impolite. He was only being concerned. “I apologise if that seems a little abrupt.”

“I’m the one who’s sorry,” he said, his voice quite sombre now. “Sorry for your loss. I know how that feels.”

He fell silent and remained so, lost in thought as they walked into the village. The only sounds now were the bird song and the occasional flapping of a wood pigeon’s wings as it took flight.

Occasionally, Lily glanced at him. His features seemed set in stone now, and she almost regretted the fact that the flirtatious, smiling Jude Mitchell had vanished.

Perhaps Prudence would be good for him after all. Despite being almost the same age and having grown up together, she and Prudence were so very different. Prudence was like a pretty china doll, while she was like a willowy leaf blown in from the garden.

Lily’s complexion was fresh and pale – when she wasn’t blushing – while Prudence deliberately added rouge and powder. Lily was slender while Prudence was curvaceous, although Lily imagined that she might also look voluptuous if she laced her corset as tightly and wore such low cut necklines. That wasn’t her style and she certainly couldn’t flaunt her charms as shamelessly as Prudence did.

Then there were their hairstyles. Prudence liked her long black hair to be curled or in ringlets, which Lily enjoyed styling for her. For herself she preferred her honey-coloured long hair to be loose and free or else neatly pinned up in a twist at the back of her head.

It was obvious that Prudence got her dark locks and blue eyes from Hester, although the older woman’s gaze was cold and lacked sparkle. Whereas Lily had no idea whether it was her mother or her father whom she’d inherited her golden hair and almond shaped violet eyes.

Prudence was the apple of her parents’ eye and understandably so. She was as pretty as a picture with her dimpled cheeks and mischievous eyes. Her head was crammed full of the latest fashions, or thoughts of which eligible bachelor would be next to try and win her hand in matrimony. The latest one being Jude Mitchell.

She cast a sidelong glance at Jude and knew without a shadow of doubt that Prudence would be smitten by him, particularly when he turned on his charm. And he, when he set those roving eyes on Prudence, would be equally as enraptured. How could any man not be?

For some unknown reason, the thought sent her heart plummeting.

* * * *