Westbury
A
Traditional Regency Romance
Arabella
Sheen
Can Miss Georgina Morton surrender her independence and accept the
Duke’s love?
Miss Georgina Morton,
at the age of four-and-twenty, with a modest annual income of four hundred
pounds, believes she has no need of a husband and can manage quite nicely
without one. Yet within a matter of weeks, she’s betrothed to Giles
Glentworth, the Sixth Duke of Westbury, and bound for Regency London.
Set in rural Wiltshire and elegant, fast-paced London...a
runaway ward, a shooting at midnight, and a visit to fashionable Almack’s, are
only a few of the adventures Georgina enjoys while falling for the Corinthian
charms of the Duke.
Chapter One Excerpt 4
continued…
Tempted
to stamp her foot in frustration, but being of a calm and level-headed
disposition, Georgina knew such an outburst of emotion would achieve nothing productive.
“Georgina,
I think you’re unnecessarily fearful.” said Mr Morton. “The child must have
some sense. Some intelligence. And she has seen you’re a trustworthy
individual, has she not? But on the matter of keeping her here, even though we
might not wish for her to wander the countryside alone, we cannot force her to
stay with us, my love.” Mr Morton looked at his daughter over the rim of his
spectacles. “If we did, we might be accused of kidnapping, or at best, holding
her against her will. She must be free to continue on her travels if she so
wishes and to face the perils of them, if that is the case.”
“Then
in all good consciousness, we must persuade her otherwise,” said Georgina. “For
I cannot allow this to happen.”
“You
cannot stop it from happening. You’re not her keeper.”
“But
Papa, I cannot turn a stray dog away from the door and certainly not this poor
child. With your permission, Abigail must remain here with us until I find a
solution. Perhaps if we are able to discover the whereabouts of her relatives,
her troubles might be solved.”
“Go
and fetch this poor child and let me see for myself how things stand, for I
fear you’re too emotional. I expect your judgement is clouded and all this
runaway needs is a good talking to. Perhaps we can persuade her to return to
her family.”
“I
think not,” said Georgina. “Although Abigail is terrified about what is to
become of her, I believe she is brave enough to find her way to London as she
originally intended. My only wish is that she might do so safely.”
Georgina
stood and walked to the door. She turned and said, “Papa, I will go and find
her. And please be kind, for I know how intimidating you can be. Sometimes you
only have to look at me over your papers and you have me quaking in my shoes.”
Abigail
was no longer to be found in the parlour.
Concerned
and suspecting the worst, Georgina went in search of her, but luckily Abigail
hadn’t left. She was to be found in the kitchen sat at the table with Betty,
the housekeeper, and with Nelson, their cat, on her lap.
The
warm, inviting kitchen was filled with the delicious smell of freshly baked
bread. Betty had been baking, and two large loaves were cooling on the table.
An
array of sparkling brass pots and pans were on a dresser along with copper
jelly moulds and jugs. A kettle hung over the black cast-iron hearth in which a
fire was burning. Steam came from the kettle’s spout, and Betty had the makings
of a pot of tea at the ready.
Abigail
looked up from stroking Nelson. “Oh, Georgina, I hope you don’t mind, but Nelson
came into the parlour, and when he left, I followed him to the kitchen. Isn’t
he gorgeous? And he’s so fluffy.” Heedless of the cat hairs that were being
shed on her clothes, Abigail continued to stroke him. “Betty said she would
bring me tea in the parlour, but I much preferred waiting for you here.”
“I’ve
come to take you to see Papa,” Georgina said. “I’ve explained most of what
you’ve told me, but he would like to see for himself what sort of person you
are. Shall we go to him now? In ten minutes Betty can bring tea and some of her
delicious caraway-seed cake. Or would you perhaps prefer some sandwiches?”
“Oh,
no. Cake is fine. And yes, I would love to meet your father.”
When
Georgina managed to distract Abigail away from Nelson, they went to the library
where Mr Morton had remained. Georgina knocked before entering. He was still
sat in his high-back armchair.
“Papa,
this is Abigail. The young person I told you about. She’s hoping to stay with
us―for a little while.”
“Indeed?”
said Mr Morton.
Abigail
dropped a curtsy.
“Yes,
sir. And thank you for allowing me to stay in your home. It’s so kind of you.”
“Nothing
has been decided, young lady. I don’t know enough about your circumstances to
understand if it warrants you staying with us. Would you care to explain what
has happened?”
“Oh,
Papa. I’ve already told you what has happened, and―”
Mr
Morton held up his hand, and Georgina fell silent.
“Let
the young lady speak, Georgina. I prefer to hear the story from the source.” Mr
Morton looked long and hard in Abigail’s direction. He eyed her from top to toe
and made an assessment. Like Georgina, he too came to the decision she was of
good family and ought not to have been allowed to venture abroad. But he was
determined to get to the bottom of the problem and find out exactly what was
going on. “What brought about your departure from Bath, and why did you leave
the safety of your home?”
“It
wasn’t my home, sir. And the reason I left so suddenly is because I urgently
need to reach my Great Aunt, in London. Only…that dreadful coachman cast me off
and now I’m stranded in Avebury.”
Mr
Morton reached down to a wicker-basket beside his chair; he lifted a log and
threw it onto the fire. The log knocked against others burning in the hearth,
and sparks danced into life.
He’d
had time to think.
“We
must write to your Great Aunt, and we must do so at once.” he said. “Your Great
Aunt can send someone to collect you.”
Abigail’s
eyes widened with fear.
“Oh,
no! I must tell you that I do not wish to be collected. I would not wish for my
Great Aunt to be so troubled.” Abigail sighed despondently. “Mr Morton…sir…can
you not lend me the money to pay my fare? I promise it will be returned as
quickly as possible.”
“I
won’t lend money,” Mr Morton said. There was a frown on his brow. “Not because
I think it will not be returned, but because the same might happen to you
again. You could become stranded. Left by the roadside and in a worse position
than you are now. Perhaps next time someone of a similar character as that of
my daughter will not be on hand to save you.”
“Can
Abigail stay, Papa? Please? At least for a little while. Perhaps in a few days
she will be more inclined to contact her relatives and seek help. Is that not
so, Abigail?”
Abigail
nodded. “Yes...perhaps. Maybe in a few days.”
“Surely
there can be no harm in her staying with us?” Georgina asked.
Mr
Morton raised a brow, sceptically.
“I
should imagine her family will be worried, concerned and fretful,” Mr Morton
said. “Georgina, if you were to run from home, I certainly would be troubled.”
“Oh,
no, Mr Morton. No one will worry about me,” said Abigail with a smile. “Truly.”
“Papa…?”
Georgina looked expectantly at her father.
Mr
Morton, knowing
of his daughter’s determined nature, and realising it might take
a few days to uncover all Abigail’s secrets, eventually nodded his consent.
And
Georgina was happy. Their guest was to remain.
Disclaimer, Copyrights
and Publishing
Any
names or characters have no existence outside the imagination of the
author
or are used fictitiously, and actual events are purely coincidental.
No
part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, copied,
stored
in a retrieval system known or hereinafter invented, without
written
permission of the publisher.
Copyright
© 2019 by – Arabella Sheen
Published
by priceplacebooks
All
rights reserved.
ISBN
978-0-9575698-4-3
About Arabella
Sheen
 |
| Arabella Sheen |
Arabella Sheen is a British author of contemporary romance and likes
nothing more than the challenge of starting a new novel with fresh ideas and
inspiring characters.
One of the many things Arabella
loves to do is to read. And when she’s not researching or writing about
romance, she is either on her allotment sowing and planting with the seasons or
she is curled on the sofa with a book, while pandering to the demands of her
attention-seeking cat.
Having lived and worked in the
Netherlands as a theatre nurse for nearly twenty years, she now lives in the
south-west of England with her family.
Arabella hopes her readers have
as much pleasure from her romance stories as she has in writing them.
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