New Year's Masquerade by Katherine Grant

Author:Katherine Grant [Grant, Katherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: beta hero, historical romance, second chance romance, feminist romance, regency romance, regency romance in england
Publisher: Katie Flanagan
Published: 2020-03-01T00:00:00+00:00

New Year's Day

Ten in the morning

When Bernard awoke the next morning, it took him a few minutes to remember it was New Year’s Day. His wedding day. He’d spent the night dreaming of Annabelle: torrid dreams of her naked in his sheets, sweet dreams of walking hand-in-hand through a blooming countryside, bitter dreams of them arguing.

None had featured the unfortunate Miss Dawes.

Rising, Bernard surveyed his estate from the vantage of his bedroom. He could see all the way to the river miles away that glittered blue in the winter morning sunlight. The spire of the parish church gleamed like a beacon of truth.

And the sunlight lay bare all the shortcomings of Ambley Park, as well. The crumbled Greek folly arcing over the top of the hill. The brown fields that hadn’t yielded crops for three years straight. The tenant houses that bowed under the weight of the wind.

He was lord and master, which meant he needed to bring an income to fix his home. Not marry any old duchess.

No matter how much he loved her.

Yet even as he rang for his valet to start dressing for the ceremony, all Bernard could see was Annabelle’s face. All he could smell was her – lavender and human desire, mixed in a heady gulp of breath. All he could think was that he daren’t live without her.

You deserve to act from the heart.

He went through the motions of shaving, dressing in his wedding suit, arranging his hat and gloves and cane just so. But Bernard was beyond a jumble of nerves. The very idea of going down to the chapel turned his stomach. If it wasn’t Annabelle, it simply wouldn’t do.

With still an hour before the ceremony, Bernard decided to take a walk around the grounds, the better to calm himself. He had felt this aching before, when Annabelle was promised to the duke. Eventually, he had learned to think again. He would this time, too. All he needed was a little space.

The morning was brisk, though above freezing, and the path soft under his feet. Bernard walked away from the gardens, the better to forget Annabelle. Still, he heard her whisper in every rustle of the bare branches.

A quarter mile from the back of the house, the path turned into the manicured woods, leading eventually to the glimmering Ambley pond. Bernard was just entering the birch trees when he discovered a figure ahead of him.

His mind was so clouded that at first his heart sped up, thinking immediately that it was Annabelle. But in just as quick an instant, he recognized the short figure could not possibly be his duchess. No, in fact, it was Miss Dawes.

Bernard frowned. Surely the bride should be safely in her quarters, preparing for the ceremony. Instead, not only was she about the property alone, but she seemed to be perched on a log, scribbling in a journal.

Clearing his throat, Bernard stepped within range. “Good morning.”

She looked up with a start. He was reminded that his fiancée

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