A Misplaced Lady (Brides of Forsaken Bank Book 1)
A Misplaced Lady
Laura Beers
A Misplaced Lady
By: Laura Beers
Text copyright © 2020 by Laura Beers
Cover art copyright © 2020 by Laura Beers
Cover art by Blue Water Books
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, copied, or transmitted without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
More Romance by Laura Beers
Prologue
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
Epilogue
About the Author
More Romance by Laura Beers
Regency Brides: A Promise of Love Series:
A Clever Alliance
The Reluctant Guardian
A Noble Pursuit
The Earl’s Daughter
A Foolish Game
Prologue
England, 1871
Lady Adelaide Berkeley may have only been eleven years old, but she was mature enough to know that it was not polite to eavesdrop. However, that didn’t stop her from creeping closer to the study where her father, the Marquess of Devon, and her aunt, Lady Clara, were in a heated argument.
Under normal circumstances, she would not care to listen to her father and aunt’s personal discussion, but she found herself rather bored on this chilly spring morning. She glanced to her right and then her left to be sure no one was witnessing her eavesdropping before she peered in.
Adelaide saw her father sitting at his large mahogany desk, his expression solemn.
“You can’t possibly be serious,” he said gruffly.
From her position, Adelaide could see her Aunt Clara’s unyielding expression as she met her father’s fiery gaze.
Clara’s voice was uncharacteristically firm. “I am completely serious. I intend to marry Henry Brisbane.”
“But he is an American!” her father protested, pounding his fist on the desk.
“I am well aware of his heritage,” Clara remarked dryly, appearing unperturbed by his outburst.
The dark-haired marquess’s glare intensified. “I won’t release your dowry if you marry this man.”
“That would be most unfortunate, but it wouldn’t alter my decision.”
A smug smile tugged at his lips. “But would Henry be willing to marry you without a dowry?”
“I have no doubt,” she replied. “We are a love match.”
Her father huffed. “Love match. There’s no such thing.”
“You’re wrong,” Clara chided. “We fell in love the moment we saw each other.”
“You have been reading too much Shakespeare, sister,” he stated. “Love is built upon mutual affection, and it develops over time.”
“Perhaps you haven’t been reading enough Shakespeare,” Clara quipped.
The marquess rose from his chair and walked to the window, looking out over the expansive gardens of Buckshire Manor. “You won’t be happy moving to America. They’re an uncivilized lot.”
Adelaide gasped, quickly covering her mouth with her hand. Her aunt couldn’t leave Buckshire Manor to move to America. She just couldn’t!
“Good heavens, brother, you are spouting nonsense,” her aunt remarked. “America is the land of opportunity.”
“You are the daughter of a marquess,” he said, glancing over at her. “You were born into privilege.”
“I am well aware of that fact.”
“Yet you would give that all up to marry an American?” he asked skeptically.
Clara bobbed her head. “I would.”
“How did you even meet this American?”
“In London, at a ball hosted by Lady Westinghouse,” Clara revealed. “He came here looking for a bride.”
Clasping his hands behind his back, the marquess’s face grew stern. “You know nothing of this man. You wouldn’t be the first woman who fell in love with a man before discovering his true character.”
“I know his true character,” Clara challenged, her voice rising. “Good heavens, Adam. I am nearly thirty years old. I’m old enough to know my own mind.”
“Your mind is just befuddled.”
“It is not!” Clara rose from her seat, her back stiff. “I will marry Henry, with or without your permission.”
“You would defy me?” he asked in a surprised tone.
She nodded, causing the brown curls that framed her face to sway back and forth. “Without hesitation.”
Some of the anger dissipated from her father’s expression. “I’m just concerned about you, Clara. You are naïve in the ways of the world.” He hesitated before adding, “In the ways of men.”
“You need not worry about me.”
“You are my sister,” he said. “I will always worry about you.”
Her aunt walked closer to him, her expression softening. “I love Henry. I had hoped to receive your blessing before we wed tomorrow.”
“What’s the rush?” her father questioned. “Remain in England until the end of the Season. Then, post the banns.”
Stopping in front of him, Clara replied, “He has courted me for nearly three weeks, and he cannot tarry here any longer.”
“But why?”
“He just purchased a large ranch in the Wyoming Territory, and he needs to return home to oversee it,” she explained.
“A ranch?” he repeated in disbelief. “You are not suited for ranch life, Clara. It will be the death of you.”
“I’m sturdier than I look, Adam,” she chastised. “Besides, I won’t actually be doing the work. We will employ a household staff. At least, I assume we will.”
“You don’t know for certain?”
She shrugged. “Frankly, it wouldn’t change my mind.”
Tears came to her father’s eyes, something that Adelaide never thought she would witness. Her father had always seemed so strong and immovable.
“Are you so unhappy here that you wish to leave your family and your home?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion.
Clara smiled. “I have fallen in love, and I would go to the ends of the earth to be with Henry.”
Her father chuckled weakly. “Including the Wild West.”
“Including the Wild West,” she repeated with mirth in her voice.
Reaching out, he pulled Clara into a tight hug. “I don’t agree with your choice, but I am going to miss you, my dear sister.”
“Don’t fret,” she replied, returning his embrace. “This is not goodbye. I shall see you at my wedding tomorrow, won’t I?”
“My family and I wouldn’t dream of missing it,” he said as he released her and stepped back. “I shall release your dowry to Henry.”
“Thank you,” Clara murmured.
Hearing enough, Adelaide found she couldn’t stay silent any longer. She stomped into her father’s study.
“You can’t leave us, Aunt Clara!” she declared. “You just can’t!”
Her aunt turned to face her with an uplifted brow. “I see you were eavesdrop
ping on a private conversation.”
“I was,” she admitted, seeing no reason to deny it. “You left the door open, and I heard everything.”
Aunt Clara walked over and crouched down to look her in the eye. “You should be congratulating me. I’m about to be married, Addie.”
“But why do you have to leave us?” she pressed.
“I’m afraid I must,” her aunt replied. “You see, I’ve fallen in love, and my heart longs to be with him.”
“Well, unfall in love with him!” Adelaide exclaimed, tossing up her hands in frustration.
Clara placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not that simple. We have pledged our love to each other, and we will return to his ranch in the Wyoming Territory.”
“Where’s the Wyoming Territory?” Adelaide asked, scrunching her nose.
A twinkle came into her aunt’s eyes. “It is an untamed land. A land full of adventure.”
“That does sound rather exciting.” Adelaide shifted her gaze towards her father. “Can we go visit Aunt Clara in the Wyoming Territory?”
Her father’s eyes glistened as he nodded. “One day, I hope.”
Tears came to Clara’s eyes as she placed her hand over Adelaide’s heart. “Even though I will be far away, you will always be in my heart, Addie.”
“Will you write me?”
“Every month. But you must write to me, as well.”
“I will.” Throwing her hands around her aunt’s neck, she felt tears rolling down her cheeks. “I’ll miss you, Aunt Clara.”
Leaning closer to her ear, Clara whispered, “You will always be welcome in my home. I hope you know that.”
Adelaide nodded. “I love you.”
“And I love you.” Rising from her crouched position, Clara declared, “You will always be my favorite niece.”
She laughed. “I’m your only niece.”
“Well, it wouldn’t change my opinion, even if I had one hundred nieces.”
Her father cleared his throat as he gave her a stern look. “I would be remiss if I didn’t remind you that it is unladylike to listen to private conversations without making your presence known.”
Adelaide lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry, Father.”
He held out his arms. “Come, give me a hug.”
She ran into his waiting arms.
“And no more eavesdropping,” he said as he released her.
“Yes, Father.”
“Now run along to the nursery and work on your lessons,” he encouraged.
Adelaide curtsied and left the room, still saddened by the turn of the events. Her aunt was leaving to live in America. Would she ever see her again? She certainly hoped so.
Instead of running up to the nursery straightaway, Adelaide decided she needed to visit the library. She wanted to find a map so she could discover exactly how far away this Wyoming Territory was.
1
England, 1881
Lady Adelaide Berkeley closed her eyes tightly, hoping she would wake up from the horrible nightmare she found herself in.
“Did you hear me, Lady Adelaide?”
She opened her eyes and met the concerned gaze of her father’s solicitor, Mr. Wells. “Would you mind repeating that, sir?”
Sitting across from her on a velvet settee, Mr. Wells reached down and picked up a paper from the large pile in front of him.
“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” he said somberly, “but your father’s investments never panned out, leaving you rather destitute.”
“I’m ruined,” she murmured, clasping her hands in her lap.
The rotund solicitor gave her a sad nod, drawing her attention to his double chin.
“I’m afraid you are, Lady Adelaide.” He lowered his gaze to the paper in his hand. “A distant cousin has inherited your father’s title of the Marquess of Devon, a Mr. Joseph Morley. However, we have been unable to contact him. Apparently, he has been touring Europe with his football team.”
“His football team?”
The solicitor brought the paper closer to his face and squinted. “Yes, Lord Morley plays as an alternate on the team known as the Wanderers.”
Her hand nervously fingered the long strand of pearls around her neck. “May I ask what happens to me?” she questioned, dreading the answer.
Mr. Wells shifted his gaze towards her. “You did receive a modest inheritance from your mother’s estate, and that cannot be touched by your father’s creditors.”
Her hand stilled on the pearls. “I was not aware that my mother left me any funds.”
Taking a moment, Mr. Wells rifled through the pages until he stopped on the page he’d been looking for. “Your mother left you £5,000, but it was not accessible until your twenty-first birthday.”
“Which was a few weeks ago,” she replied.
Mr. Wells gave her a look that could only be described as pity. “I’m not sure why your father did not inform you of your inheritance, but I am sure he had a good reason.” The solicitor grew solemn. “We both know that your mother’s death drastically changed him.”
Burning tears came to her eyes at the solicitor’s statement. After her mother’s death more than a year ago, her father had grown increasingly depressed. He had slowly withered away in front of her eyes.
A thought occurred to her. “What of my dowry?”
Mr. Wells frowned. “Unfortunately, the creditors have laid claim to that.” His eyes scanned the drawing room. “In fact, everything in this estate will be put up for auction.”
“Everything?” she asked.
“All the furniture, portraits, tapestries, carpets… anything of value,” the solicitor said.
“Will the estate be auctioned off, as well?” she inquired hesitantly.
Mr. Wells shook his head. “Fortunately, Buckshire Manor is entailed and cannot be sold without permission from Mr. Morley.”
“Do you think he will sell it?”
“I cannot say,” the solicitor replied, “but I will say that your father’s debts are extensive. It is a rather large hole that Mr. Morley will have to dig himself out of.”
A serving maid walked into the room with a silver tray in her hands. She placed it on a table in front of Adelaide.
“Would you like me to pour, milady?”
“No, thank you,” Adelaide responded.
The serving maid curtsied before she departed from the room.
“Would you care for a cup of tea and a biscuit, Mr. Wells?” Adelaide asked politely.
“Tea would be wonderful,” Mr. Wells answered, reaching for one of the biscuits on the tray. “Thank you.”
Taking a moment, she poured the tea and extended a cup towards him. He took a long sip, then asked, “Would you like me to inform the household staff that they are to be let go?”
“Pardon?” she asked, bringing her cup and saucer down to her lap.
Mr. Wells placed his empty cup onto the tray. “There are no forthcoming funds to pay for their wages.”
“But Buckshire Manor cannot function without a household staff,” she protested.
“Which brings us to a ticklish subject, Lady Adelaide,” he started. “Is there another place you can reside until your cousin assumes his title?”
“Buckshire Manor is my home!” she declared.
“This home and everything associated with it now belongs to the new Lord Devon,” the solicitor insisted.
Adelaide pressed her lips together while carefully choosing her next words. “Do you believe Lord Devon will remove me from my own home?”
“I cannot speak for him,” Mr. Wells began, “but he is honor bound to take care of you.”
“Until you can contact Lord Devon, what if I use my inheritance to pay the household staff’s wages?”
Mr. Wells shook his head despondently. “I would not recommend something so foolhardy.”
“Why not?” she asked. “I grew up with many of these people, and I cannot in good conscience force them to leave. It is their home, as w
ell.”
“If you use your funds to finance Buckshire Manor, then you will only be delaying the inevitable,” the solicitor argued. “I must urge you to consider your own future.”
Adelaide took a sip of her tea, delaying her response. She didn’t know what she should do. She felt alone, and frankly, she was afraid of her dreary prospects.
The solicitor picked the papers up off the table and stuffed them into a file. “If I may be so bold, Lady Adelaide, I would suggest that you go live with a friend or relative until the scandal dies down.”
“Scandal?”
He gave her a brief nod. “Your father’s unprofitable business dealings and his debts have been featured in the newspapers.”
“I’ll never understand why anyone would be interested in someone else’s failings,” she grumbled, stifling a groan.
“Your father was a very important man, and the public has a morbid curiosity about these types of things,” the solicitor answered. “Sadly, many people feel the only way to make themselves feel better is by tearing others down.”
“That is awfully disrespectful,” she observed, placing her teacup onto the tray. “My only relation is an aunt who lives in America, but I do have some dear friends that I can seek out during this difficult time.”
The solicitor eyed her curiously. “Have you spoken to your friends lately?”
“Not since my father’s funeral.”
Mr. Wells placed the file into a brown leather satchel. “You may find that recent events have altered your friends’ loyalties, and their doors may not be readily available to you.”