Love Unexpected: A Regency Romance (The Saunders Family Saga Book 1)
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
More Books from G.G. Vandagriff
About the Author
Copyright
Love Unexpected
A Regency Romance
By
G.G. Vandagriff
ACB
Dedicated to
my spunky granddaughter
Astrid Carolyn Bailey
Chapter One
London
Spring, 1816
“Oh, Marianne! My brother Ernest just sent a note ’round!” The Honorable Arabella Saunders, a débutante in her first Season, tripped into the morning room of her home. “He is coming home today. He must be on furlough. I had no idea!”
“Dearest, how wonderful,” Marianne, Lady Deveridge, replied, looking up from the scarf she was knitting. Fiddlesticks! Penny must be matchmaking. “I have never even met the man. He is your sea captain brother, is he not?” she inquired.
I would have to have something seriously amiss in my brainbox to consider marrying a sea captain!
“He is! And you will like him prodigiously. He is ever so entertaining. And handsome as well.”
“I am so happy for you, Arabella. I know how you have missed him.” All at once, Marianne dropped her knitting into her basket, stood, and pulled her shawl around herself. “I have a notion to take a turn about the garden. Will you kindly tell Penny if she asks?”
“Of course!” If Arabella guessed that Marianne was not absolutely thrilled at her news, she gave no sign. She only shrugged before flying out of the room like a happy fairy, anxious to spread her good cheer.
Marianne opened the french door and let herself outdoors and down the steps onto the stone path that led through the flower beds. The scent of lilacs was welcome. Making for the rose arbor, where she could find relative privacy, she sat on the wrought iron bench within.
Arabella’s news was enough to make Marianne pack up and take Gweet with her back to Buckinghamshire. Penny must have known Captain Saunders was coming when she invited Marianne and her twelve-year-old daughter to spend the Season in London. The idea made her as cross as two sticks.
Could Penny’s timing be worse? Today of all days is certainly not the time for someone new to enter my life.
But she could not blame her friend. The lady had no idea of the significance of this particular day in Marianne’s life. Even if she knew, she probably would never guess that Marianne still mourned. She never talked of Ian or the eleven years of her marriage.
The doors opened, and her daughter skipped down the steps.
“Mama, Mama! The most lovely surprise! A real sea captain is coming to stay. He is Arabella’s brother. Do you think he will have stories about pirates? How I wish Warrie were here. Can you imagine how excited he would be?”
“Gweet, be careful, darling. I am guessing you have come out to cut flowers?”
“Yes. Arabella wants a special arrangement for her brother’s room. Can you help me? I’m afraid I will botch it. I might cut the flowers too short.”
Glad of the diversion, she said, “It is always better to cut them too long than too short. You can always trim them later. But I can help, if you like. What colors were you thinking of?”
“He likes coral. And yellow.”
“There are some Kerios over there,” she said. “They would be lovely.” Rising from her seat in the arbor, she went to help her daughter.
* * *
At luncheon Marianne expressed her concern that perhaps Wellingham House would seem a bit cramped to the captain with her and Gweet in residence. It was ridiculous, of course. Wellingham House was large.
“You are not to leave on any account!” said Penelope, Viscountess Wellingham. “Ernest is used to living on a crowded ship, and he thrives on company. We are all so delighted that he is coming home for a spell! He has been at sea with only the occasional furlough since he was fifteen years old.” Marianne’s hostess sipped her soup and then continued, “Imagine! Seventeen years at sea. I confess I am wondering how he will adjust to a six-month furlough. He is one of those men who lives for adventure. And just think—he has never met Sammy.”
Penny referred to her toddler-aged son, the apple of her eye.
“Now that will be an adventure indeed!” said Marianne.
Once Gweet was excused, Marianne asked her hostess, “Does the captain . . . does he like children? Gweet is so terribly forward; I would not have her get in his way for the world.”
“He will adore Gweet—never worry.” Penelope put a hand to her head. “Linens! What am I thinking? I must have Tilly make up his room. And Cook! She will never forgive me if I do not let her know Ernest is coming so she can make his favorite raspberry fool.”
“Gweet and I have the flowers taken care of for his room,” Marianne said. “They are just ready to be taken up. Would you like us to take care of the flowers for the rest of the house? I saw that your roses are just coming into bloom.”
“Oh yes. That would be a tremendous help. Ernest is that fond of roses. He misses them at sea. We have such wonderful gardens at Somerset Vale where he grew up.”
“You know I love to arrange flowers,” said Marianne. “You have such a delightful garden here.”
“I must see to airing his room,” said her friend, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “It has been such a damp spring.”
* * *
Marianne used all her floral artistry to fashion the arrangements for the entry hall, the dining room, the morning room, and the drawing room. She was exceedingly fond of flowers.
After placing the family room’s bouquets, she took the captain’s upstairs to his room, acknowledging the butterflies which had taken up residence in her midsection. She glanced in the cheval mirror standing in the corner of the very masculine room.
Her pale-blonde curls were escaping their top knot, and her milky skin was flushed pink from climbing the stairs in an effort to hurry. It was nearly time for tea and the arrival of the captain.
She ducked into her room and rang for Foster, her maid, to come and repair her hair and help her change into her forget-me-not-blue muslin with the white satin sash.
Gweet! Heaven only knew what condition she was in after having the run of the garden. Her daughter was on the cusp of maidenhood, but she had been accustomed to playing with her twin brother and had never yet embraced the fact that she was a female. At this point, Marianne could only pray that the girl did not have a rent or a mud smear on her yellow dress.
What was the sea captain like? Did he have an eye for the ladies, a woman in every port? Or was he taciturn, disliking feminine company?
Silly! Why am I even wondering? He is Beau’s brother, and Beau is charming in every way. He treats Penny like his treasure, though he is a tease. This captain is sure to be charming as w
ell.
Marianne had known Beau for years as he had gone to school with her brother, Bertie. They had formed a tight friendship. Fortunately, their close association had continued after his marriage to Penelope or she might never have come to know her dear friend.
She had never had a friend she cherished as she did Penny. For that reason, though she had no marital aspirations, she sincerely hoped the captain would not dislike her on sight.
When her toilette was complete, she made her way down her stairs to the drawing room from which she could hear conversation and laughter. She reminded herself that, no matter how charming the man, she could not allow him to charm her. A sea captain, indeed!
Conversation immediately ceased upon her entry. Her eyes flew to the figure in a white-and-blue dress uniform standing in the center of the room. She very nearly gasped.
Oh my. Now there is a man!
Broad-chested, blond-headed, with brilliant blue eyes set in a well-tanned face, the captain was looking at her with open curiosity. His air of masculinity reached out across the room, and her senses came to attention. She gave her head a little shake to break the spell.
“Ah! You must be Penelope’s bosom friend. She has been telling me that you are Ian Deveridge’s widow.” His voice resonated in the sudden quiet.
Fighting the sense that bid her to flee, she at last gave up and walked in his direction.
“Yes, I am Lady Deveridge,” she said, reluctantly offering her hand. He took it in his and bowed over it. The touch warmed her all the way up her arm and into her chest. Alarmed, she barely resisted the instinct to snatch her fingers away.
“Captain Ernest Saunders,” he said. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“I am pleased to make yours as well. You knew my husband?” she asked.
“I met him several times in Egypt. We put into Alexandria for supplies and repairs occasionally. I admired the man greatly and was very sorry to hear of his passing. You have my condolences. It must be nearly three years now?”
“Three years ago today, as a matter of fact.”
At that moment, Arabella entered holding Gweet by the hand. The girl had never been bashful. Walking forward, she executed a grave curtsy. She said, “Arabella tells me you are her brother, Captain. I am called Gweet, though actually my name is Marguerite. My twin is Lord Deveridge, but he is at Eton.”
The reverent awe with which her daughter was looking at Beau’s brother was something Marianne had never witnessed in her daughter.
The captain performed a full bow. “I am enchanted to make your acquaintance, Miss Marguerite.”
“Are you married?” Gweet asked.
“No. I have spent too much time at sea to settle down,” he said with a grin.
“Then I should like to marry you, please.”
Amused but not terribly surprised at her daughter’s request, Marianne gave Captain Saunders full marks for not showing a twitch of a smile. Instead he put both hands on her shoulders and said, “I may be wrong, of course, but I do not think you are quite old enough to marry, as yet. Shall we talk about it again in a few years?”
Behind a furrowed brow, Gweet appeared to be considering this. “I shall be eighteen in just six years.”
“And by then I shall be at least a hundred!”
“I am not a child, Captain. I expect that you are near to thirty now. You will be six and thirty when I am old enough to wed.”
“We shall talk about it then. But I am as certain as I can be that you will have your mind set upon marrying a duke or at least a marquess when you make your come out.”
Gweet shook her head solemnly. “I will show you. I can be faithful.”
Marianne fought the urge to tell her daughter that her prospective husband would never venture such a pledge. Her own feet were back on the ground. This man may be a glorious specimen of manhood, but he was not for her.
Tea was very merry. Beau was home from the Foreign Office in time to celebrate his brother’s arrival. For some reason never understood by Marianne, Beau had always found great amusement in aping the dandy’s mode of dress, though he was as far removed from that set as a man could be. Today he was turned out in turquoise. Other than raising his brows, the sea captain forbore commenting.
“Well, brother, is it true you are to be half a year with us?” he asked Captain Saunders after a manly embrace and slap on the back. His wife’s corgi, Wordsworth, detecting a new relation, ran circles around both of them, emitting his high-pitched yips.
“I am on the extended furlough due me after the war. If I can find enough to keep me entertained.”
Oh dear. Does that mean he will be here in this house the rest of the Season?
Beau smiled broadly. “We will try to bear up. Maybe even find you a wife.”
“I have done quite well in that category, actually,” Captain Saunders said with a grin. At his brother’s interested expression, he added, “The Honorable Marguerite has assured me she will settle for a six-year engagement.”
“Marguerite?” Beau frowned.
“I think you know her as Gweet,” his brother replied.
Laughing, Beau said, “She can do a sight better than you! She is destined to be the Incomparable of the Season of 1822.”
“What’s an Incomparable?” asked Gweet.
Penelope answered her, “He means you will be the most beautiful and accomplished débutante of your Season. Your mother was the Incomparable in her day.”
Captain Saunders gave Marianne an assessing look. “I would imagine so. If it were not for our Arabella here, I imagine she would be the Incomparable this Season.”
She disliked obvious flattery. Turning away from him, she asked Arabella, “How is Mr. Befuddled progressing in his campaign to win your heart, dearest?”
“He has advanced to the stage of bad verse,” she said. “At least Mr. Tailor’s Dummy has the wit to plagiarize Shakespeare.”
“So no one has caught your fancy, sis?” Captain Saunders asked. “Perhaps I should introduce you to . . .”
“No sailors, if you please,” said Penelope. “We want the girl to have a happy marriage.”
Her brother-in-law laughed. “I can produce testimonials on behalf of my officers. They know how to make ladies very happy.”
Penelope frowned. “Please, Ernest. Restrain your questionable humor.”
Arabella, unfortunately, looked interested. “I should adore to meet your officers!” she proclaimed.
“They are a bit . . . seasoned for a lady as young as eighteen,” said the captain. “Perhaps I misspoke.”
“May we invite them to my ball, Penelope?” the débutante asked.
Marianne could not restrain herself from commenting. “I do not think you would find it at all enjoyable to have your husband gone for long periods of time, Arabella. I speak from experience.”
“Oh,” said the young lady. “I was not thinking of marriage! Only a lovely flirtation. I do not think I shall marry until I am at least twenty!”
Beau harrumphed. “Twenty may be a bit young,” he said.
Penelope laughed. “I do not think she will last until twenty,” she said. “She has flocks of admirers.” Then she turned toward the doorway. “Ah, here is Sam! Come, darling, and meet your uncle.”
The toddler remained shyly in the doorway, clutching the hand of his nurse. His father got up and hoisted him onto his hip, excusing Nurse Hinshaw.
“You must salute your uncle,” he said to his son. “Remember? We practiced.”
The little fair-haired boy flattened his chubby hand and brought it to his brow.
The captain returned the salute, saying, “As you were, mate.” Taking the child in his arms, he rocked him with an exaggerated motion. “Sailing, sailing over the stormy sea!” He threw Sammy up into the air and caught him. “Whoops, that was a big wave. Are there whales about?”
Sammy giggled with obvious glee. His blue eyes sparkled, and he put his chubby hands on his uncle’s face. “Mo-w
ah!” Wordsworth wagged his entire hindquarters, jumping up as though he would join the fun.
“Now, Ernest, you’re getting him all excited!” said Penelope. “He’ll never let you go.”
“I can use a mate like him on me ship. He’s just the right size to peel potatoes.”
Sammy’s laughter rang through the air, and Marianne felt a moment’s admiration for the big man who was so at ease with children.
Arabella took the little boy from her brother. “Shall we play puzzles, Sammy?” I bought you one of a boat! The same kind that Uncle Ernest sails.”
She sat with him on the hearth where there was a wooden puzzle of a man-of-war. To his glee, Arabella let him throw the pieces on the hearth while Wordsworth nuzzled his hands, in want of some attention.
The party soon fell to discussing family matters, specifically whether they could tempt Manfred Saunders away from his estate in the North for Ernest’s visit and Arabella’s come out.
Marianne wished again that she could find some excuse to depart from Wellingham House. This charismatic man filled the place, and she had ceased to be comfortable.
Chapter Two
Captain Ernest Saunders felt a distinct chill coming from Lady Deveridge. Ladies normally warmed to him with enthusiasm, so her reaction was unusual, to say the least. Had she heard something to his discredit? He tried to shrug off the feeling, but the contempt of a beautiful woman was not so easily shaken.
Ernest told himself to give her time to come about. The important thing now was to find something to amuse him during this sojourn with his family. He was unused to being idle. His first order of business was to purchase a horse.
“Does Strangeways still have his stud operation? I am in the market for a horse. Perhaps he could advise me.”
Beau replied, “He’s given it over to his brother. I don’t know if you’ve met Howie Gibson. Quite sound. He’s doing a good job with it—breeding hunters and race horses. They even have a horse running in the King’s Plate this year. I believe he is the odds-on favorite to win.”
“I don’t know that I’m yet in the market for a race horse.”
“He may have a yearling or two for you to look at. As for Tony, he’s just back from America.”