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Chapter 1
November 14, 1817
The only sounds in the room were that of a ticking clock and the matching tap of a quill striking the open ledger on the desk. The study was small and almost empty. John Godfrey, the Baron of Ashbury, had sold off all that he could sell in the past six months since the death of his father. He’d sold all the family heirlooms, unentailed properties, the horses, and anything remotely valuable. He’d worked very hard to bring his estate into profit and invested into ventures that were highly regarded as promising by reliable sources, but that wasn’t enough. Not according to the family solicitor, the gray-haired, bespectacled old man, sitting—or rather slumping—on the other side of the desk.
“So, what you are saying is…?” John started gravely.
“I am saying”—the older man cleared his throat—“that the only way for you to pay off your debts and save the estate is to marry into money.”
“Marry an heiress.” John ceased the tapping and furrowed his brows. “And where do you propose I find this heiress?”
“My Lord.” The solicitor cleared his throat for the dozenth time that afternoon. “You are young and attractive. Many a young lady may find your attentions… err… more than favorable. I am confident you will have no trouble finding well-dowered young maidens during the upcoming season.”
Yes, a young, attractive pauper who has violent nightmares and is unable to sleep in his bed at night.
“Right then,” John said, standing up. “If that’s the only thing you can advise…” He trailed off with a wave of his hand, indicating that the conversion was over unless the solicitor came up with something else to add.
“That’s the only rational thing that might work.” The solicitor stood. “Your investments, even if they do pay off, will take some time, and you need money urgently. So, please, take that under serious consideration.” With that said, he bowed and sauntered out of the office.
“I shall,” John said thoughtfully to the closing door. His hand automatically went to his breast pocket. He tapped it in a thoughtful gesture that came as a habit more than anything else at this point.
There nestled the last letter he’d received from the Angel. The mysterious young lady whose correspondence he’d received by mistake. A lady he had never met and had no hopes of ever meeting but whose letters had given him a reason to keep fighting during the agonizing months he’d spent in the army hospital.
He had been sick at the time, confused and delusional. It was only natural to feel sentimental about a correspondence that helped him regain his focus. He had this ridiculous romantic dream, that upon returning from war, he would find her, tell her that she saved his life, propose his hand in marriage, and live happily ever after.
He scoffed. Perhaps he’d needed that dream at the time. A beacon of hope, a motivation to survive the harsh war when he had nothing to look forward to. It sounded foolish now that he was safe and healthy, back in his native land. But he still couldn’t quite let go of the image.
Rationally thinking, this Angel, whoever she was, was probably already married. If she was as funny, kindhearted, and unique as her letters made her out to be, he had a hard time believing that she’d stayed unwed all this time. After all, that last letter had arrived five years ago.
Five years.Had he held on to the foolish dream for so long? Well, he couldn’t anymore. He needed a wife. Now. And not some mystical Angel, but a living, breathing, well-dowered young lady.
John looked down at his desk. There lay an answering note from a person he’d avoided for seven years now. A person he had no logical reason for avoiding anymore. And the only person who would be able to help him with hunting for a bride—his former fiancée.
* * *
Julie, or rather the Countess of Clydesdale, stood in the middle of the room, quietly conversing with her husband. John studied her as he entered the light-blue sitting room on the heels of a haughty butler. She had changed since he last saw her seven years ago.
John had known Julie all her life. They were lifelong neighbors, friends, and later sweethearts. They’d planned to elope and escape their respective unfortunate households but had been torn apart when John was forced to leave for war.
Seeing her now, he barely recognized the formerly frightened young girl she’d been. Her face had become rounder and softer, the corners of her eyes held laugh lines, and she was relaxed and at ease. She hadn’t been like this back at the Norfolk estate. Becoming a wife and a mother clearly agreed with her. John was certain he had changed since then, too. But in the opposite way. Apart from physical scars, his appearance had certainly suffered from sleepless nights, stress, fatigue, and the horrors of war.
John looked around the spacious and bright room. The walls were decorated with paintings of serene landscapes. As a contrast to the calm elegance of the room, the floor was littered with sketchbooks, pencils, and children’s toys. The room had obviously only been recently vacated by its small occupants.
The butler announced John and exited the room, leaving him and his hosts alone. John lifted his eyes and managed a polite smile for the benefit of his oldest friend.
“Julie, how do you do?”
Julie smiled back. When she smiled, her whole face lit up and made her incredibly beautiful. John would have traded his soul for one glimpse of her smile during the years he’d been at war. Then came the inevitable memory of her letter. The one where she’d said she’d been forced into a marriage with another man. And the devastating day when he came back from war,for her, only to realize that his Julie wasn’t his anymore. Not only was she married, but she had also managed to fall in love with her husband. That was the moment John had gone back to the army, and he hadn’t seen Julie since.
Clydesdale put his arm around his wife’s shoulders, and John followed the action with his gaze.
“You are the one who stole her from me, Clydesdale, not the other way around. I have no desire to steal her back,” John said with a smirk.
“Not that you could, Mr. Godfrey,” Clydesdale answered and bowed in greeting.
Julie raised a brow at her husband.
“It’s Ashbury now,” John said and mirrored the bow.
