A Marquess for the Summer (Preview)

Prologue

Twelve Years Ago

“Nanny Philips, are you asleep?”

Jane leaned over her nanny’s chair, giggling when she heard the old woman’s soft snores. She was undoubtedly fast asleep. That worked well for the plans Jane had for the day. No one wanted her to explore the woods on the edge of their property. Apparently, it was unsafe for a seven-year-old girl, but Jane was sure she would be fine. She knew a lot about plants and what animals to expect to see in the woods. Jane doubted anything could surprise her. She just needed to keep to one trail and place markers on the trees to ensure she could find her way back.

Looking around the garden, she ensured no one was watching before she slipped into the cluster of trees. She had never been inside before and was excited about what she would find. Jane wanted to discover something new and put it in her sketchbook. Nanny Philips had complimented her the other day on how good her drawings were becoming, and if Jane wanted to become a botanist like her, she could. Jane frowned, recalling the conversation she had with her mother soon afterwards. She had said that girls did not work. Instead, they became wives and mothers, but Jane didn’t want a husband or children. She wanted to explore the world like Nanny Philips did.

Leaves and twigs crunched under her tiny feet as she carefully stepped further into the woods. It was getting darker as the trees grew thicker, but she wasn’t scared. Nanny Philips had said darkness was simply something to be explored and not feared. People were scared of whatever they didn’t understand, so Jane wanted to learn about everything, so she was never afraid of anything. However, she couldn’t help feeling a little nervous. She was alone, and this was her first time in the woods, but she was determined to make her mark in the world, starting with this adventure.

Birds squawked above her, not at all sounding like the ones from their garden. Those crooned prettily, even when angry and fighting over the bird bath or seeds from a bird feeder.

“Noisy birds,” she mumbled, ducking under a low-hanging branch.

She adjusted her bag, which contained lemonade, cheese, and fruit. She had taken it from the refreshments her nanny always kept on hand while she played outside. Nanny Philips liked having little picnics in the garden because she said sunlight was good for children. She let Jane play around, quickly changing her into a clean dress before her parents came home. They were always away at social engagements, but Jane didn’t mind. She preferred being with her nanny.

Jane looked behind her, making sure she remembered her direction. She had broken a few branches along the way and would tie a few ribbons the further she walked into the woods. Nanny Philips always taught her to leave some evidence of herself if she was worried about getting lost. Jane’s nanny was a wise woman who taught her many things, from identifying plants to learning about the world beyond what she read in books. Nanny Philips used to travel to exotic countries with her husband, meet different people, and learn new cultures and languages. She always said she would gladly go to Brazil again because it was a beautiful country, but her husband died during their return to England from Egypt.

One day, Jane hoped to travel around the world, but she needed to know everything about her country before she stepped foot anywhere else.

The coolness of the woods kept Jane from feeling hot, but she soon grew tired of walking and sat down on a rock nearby. It was as good a place as any to explore the vegetation around her, so she took out her sketchbook and pencil along with her lemonade, sipping the beverage as she looked for something interesting to draw.

 A low, growling sound made her heart still before it raced like it wanted to run out of her chest.

“It’s just a woodland creature,” she said.

Nanny Philips had said an animal never attacked unless it was threatened. Jane looked around, worried she was between a mother and her nest. The animal might also be hungry and smell the food in her bag. Wanting to be certain, she took out a piece of cheese and threw it towards the growl. She waited a moment, hoping she would see the animal that had growled at her. It didn’t appear. Jane threw another piece, but further this time. The bush where the growl had come from moved, but nothing stepped forward. She heard the growl again, but this time, several others were around her. Jane could perhaps handle one woodland creature, but not many.

Slowly, she stood up, returning the sketchbook and lemonade to her bag. She needed to get away but wasn’t sure what direction to take. The growls were coming from several directions, including the path she had walked. She didn’t hear anything behind her, but that would take her much deeper into the woods, where little light filtering from above wouldn’t help her with her sketches. However, she could always come back, or maybe she needed a good hiding place to see what creatures would come out of their hiding places. She felt they were foxes because they usually lived in woodland areas.

Walking backwards, she put the rock between her and the animals, clutching her bag tightly. She was tempted to throw it at them and run but didn’t want to lose her sketchbook. After a minute or two, she realized they were no longer growling. Thinking they had left, she tried to return to her position and continue sketching, but many loud growls suddenly assaulted her ears, striking fear in her heart. Jane took off running, wanting to put as much distance between them as she could. Unfortunately, she didn’t notice the dip in the ground further ahead, but her ankle certainly felt it as her foot went in and twisted. She went down hard, falling into a damp area.

“Ah!” she cried, feeling her teeth rattle with the impact.

She lay stunned on her belly for a moment before rising to her knees, only to yelp in pain when her right ankle protested. She turned around and sat up, dusting the leaves and moss stuck to her arms and dress. Gingerly lifting her foot, she winced at the pain and put it back down. It was undoubtedly injured, and she was alone in the woods. She didn’t even know where she was because she had run blindly to escape potential danger. Jane didn’t want to panic, but her ankle hurt, and she was all alone.

She looked for her bag, disheartened when she saw its contents scattered on the ground. Her sketchbook lay open and was messed with moss, ruining at least one of her drawings. It was the last straw for her.

Tears trickled down her cheeks as she regretted coming into the woods alone. No one knew where she was; her ankle hurt, and a drawing was ruined. This was her worst adventure by far.

***

 Nicholas kicked a stone out of the way, angry at the world. His father refused to listen to him about anything, even when it was important to him. Sending him to a new boarding school and separating him from his best friend was the worst decision anyone could make for him. James was the only one who understood his struggles at home with a domineering father, disinterested mother, and horrible older sister. His home life was miserable, but being at boarding school with James made life better. Being fourteen and not having control over his life was a terrible position to be in, and he just wanted freedom.

Running away seemed the only way to remedy the situation, but he didn’t know where to go. He could easily get money by selling a few things, but his father would likely spare nothing to find him. Nicholas was his heir, after all, and that was all he was concerned about.

“I make one mistake!” he cried, kicking another stone. “Why can’t he just be more forgiving?”

His father’s decision came right after his little adventure with James last month. Nicholas didn’t cause any harm, but his father had been livid when he discovered where they had been. Finding his son ‘roughing it’ with the working class in the back streets of London was seemingly as terrible as committing a crime. All Nicholas and James had wanted was to experience another kind of life that seemed adventurous and offered much freedom. They quickly learned it was anything but that. Poor living conditions, the stench of unwashed bodies, starving children, pickpockets, ruthless criminals—they had seen these factors from a different angle, one that opened their eyes and allowed them to see the world for what it was. Unfortunately for them, their fathers heard about their adventure and pulled them out of boarding school for a few weeks. It didn’t affect their schooling much because the summer holidays followed, but Nicholas’s father had punished him by refusing to let him visit his friend. Now, his father had taken it further by wishing to enroll him at a different boarding school.

Nicholas shook his head, his hands clenching at his sides. He had never made a mistake or disobeyed his father, yet that wasn’t considered. Apparently, James was a bad influence, and leaving them to continue their studies at the same boarding school was supposedly a bad decision. They didn’t realize that James was the one who kept him sane.

Nicholas’s father was all about responsibility and becoming the next marquess, while his mother spent her life spending money frivolously and going to social engagements. His older sister only cared about herself and seemed to hate having a younger sibling. In short, his life at home was unbearable.

Nicholas gave a frustrated cry, violently rubbing his eyes. He needed to do something to change his father’s mind or just select a place where he could escape and live his life as a free man. He was strong enough to take up some sort of labour or—

Nicholas paused when he heard the unmistakable sound of someone crying. The person was young and probably a girl as the cries seemed a little high-pitched and feminine. Curious, he followed the sound deeper into the woods until he saw a little girl sitting on the ground.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “Why are you crying in the middle of the woods? Are you alone?”

The girl looked up, her bright blue eyes growing wide when she saw him. “Thank goodness!” she cried. “I thought no one would ever find me.”

Nicholas frowned as he approached the girl. “But why are you alone here? The woods are no place for a little girl alone.”

“I wanted to explore the woods,” she said. “I wanted to discover something new and put it in my sketchbook, but then I heard growling. I tried to appease them with cheese, but that didn’t help. I started running, but I hurt my ankle, and now I can’t stand up. I don’t even know where I am.”

She started crying again, making him uncomfortable. He didn’t know how to deal with crying females but felt sorry for the girl. He took his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.

“Here,” he said. “You can wipe your face.”

“Thank you,” she said, wiping her face before blowing her nose.

Nicholas grimaced as she held it out to him. “You can keep it. I do not need it.”

She nodded, scrunching it in her hand. “Thank you.”

“Can you tell me your name?” Nicholas asked. “I might know your family.”

“Nanny Philips said I should never give my name to strangers,” she said.

Nicholas sighed. “Fine, but what will I call you, and how will I find your home? You need to give me some information.”

“My nanny calls me Bumblebee, and I live in London,” she said. “Well, most of the time. Our other home is in the countryside. It’s almost as pretty as Pembroke.”

Nicholas almost laughed. He was quite sure she didn’t walk all the way from London to Wales and land in a Pembroke forest.

“Where do you stay here?” he asked. “You must be living nearby.”

Bumblebee frowned. “It’s a big house with many chimneys,” she said. “I also pick blackberries behind the house—it has many wild bushes. I pick them and give them to the cook.”

“Ah, that could be any house,” he said. “I’ve eaten jam from blackberry bushes around the area, though. They’re delicious.”

“Indeed?” she said, suspicion clouding her eyes.

Nicholas laughed. “For someone needing rescuing, you’re filled with distrust.”

“Nanny Philips said one must always question everything to learn,” Bumblebee replied.

He scoffed. “Your Nanny Philips is wrong. Asking questions and being curious gets you in trouble. Look at you now. You’re lost and hurt.”

Bumblebee scowled. “Nanny Philips is never wrong. You must take that back.”

“I think not,” Nicholas argued.

To his horror, her lower lip trembled. “You’re a mean boy,” she cried.

Nicholas groaned, filled with remorse. He didn’t mean to upset the girl, but he wasn’t in the best of moods.

“I’m sorry,” he said, crouching before her. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just angry, but not at you.”

Bumblebee sniffed, dabbing her eyes. “Why are you angry?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Nicholas insisted.

“You upset me because you’re angry,” she pointed out. “It does matter. Did someone make you angry?”

“Will you forgive me if I tell you?”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

Nicholas rolled his eyes. “You’re quite stubborn. Can you at least get on my back so I can take you home while we talk? Your family must be wondering where you are.”

She nodded. “You’ll have to help me stand up,” she said, holding her arms out to him.

He helped her up, telling her to balance on one leg before he turned around and gave her his back. She placed her arms around his neck, nearly choking him.

“Can you be a little more gentle?” he asked as he stood up, adjusting her weight and bending to get her bag.

She giggled, loosening her hold. “Sorry. Nanny Philips always says I’m quite strong.”

“I believe her,” he said, taking a public road.

It might take longer to get her home since she couldn’t live too far from the woods, but he didn’t think going through the dark cluster of trees would be good for her. Hopefully, she would be able to recognize her home from the road.

“You still haven’t told me why you’re angry,” Bumblebee reminded him. “Being angry isn’t good for you. It makes you weak.”

“Weak?” he repeated.

He felt her nod against his back. “Being angry means you cannot control your emotions. That can bring bad thoughts into your head and make you weak. Being happy makes you strong.”

“Who told you that?” he asked. “Nanny Philips?”

“Yes, but she’s right,” Bumblebee insisted. “When Papa is angry, he drinks a little too much and feels sick the next day. When Mama is angry, she buys jewellery but is still sad. When I’m angry, I feel like something inside me wants to explode. I say and do things I do not mean. Nanny Philips says decisions made in anger can cause regret.”

Nicholas frowned, not liking that she was making sense. He was angry and wanted to run away, but he might think differently once he calmed down. He was already thinking about other options now that he wasn’t so incensed.

“But what if someone did something terrible to me?” he asked. “Don’t I have a right to be angry?”

“Who was it?” she asked. “Your father or mother? Children normally get angry at their parents. I do, but I try my best to understand them.”

“How do you do that? Understand them, I mean.”

“Parents do things we sometimes do not like or understand,” she explained. “But they believe their decisions are best for us—that’s what Nanny Philips says. I try to remember that so I don’t argue with them and say things I do not mean. Do you love your parents?”

“I suppose so,” Nicholas replied, wondering where she was going with her question.

“Would you want any harm to come to them?”

“Of course not!” Nicholas cried. “I might get angry, but I wouldn’t wish them any harm.”

“Being angry harms you and them,” she said. “It makes you misunderstand each other, and then you feel … There’s a word Nanny Philips always uses. It means you’re sorry about something.”

Nicholas frowned as he did a mental search through his vocabulary. “Resentment?” he offered.

“Yes!” she cried. “Resentment. Nanny Philips always says you should just swallow your pride and make amends because that will make you much happier, and your relationship with your parents will improve.”

Nicholas tried to find fault with what the little girl had said, but the more he thought about it, the more he could see she was right. His father couldn’t help grooming him to take his place one day, and going for an adventure in the rough streets of London was dangerous. His father did what he thought was best, even if he didn’t like it. Perhaps Nicholas could speak to him again once everyone had calmed down.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“That is none of your concern,” she said rather primly.

Nicholas smiled. She said it as though she was imitating someone, possibly her mother.

“Well, I just want to ensure the girl I’m carrying on my back isn’t really an old woman using an enchantment,” he said.

Bumblebee broke into peals of laughter. “You’re silly,” she said.

Nicholas grinned. “Maybe.”

“There’s my nanny!” she cried suddenly. “Nanny Philips!” she yelled, nearly busting his eardrums.

The old woman ahead of them appeared frantic as she looked around, finally seeing them. She came running towards them, relief brightening her features.

“Bumblebee!” she cried. “Thank goodness! Where have you been?”

“I wanted to go exploring in the woods and hurt myself,” Bumblebee explained as her nanny took her into her arms. “I’m sorry for making you worry.”

“It’s fine, as long as you’re here now,” she said, kissing the little girl’s cheeks. She looked at Nicholas. “Thank you, young man.”

Nicholas smiled. “It was no problem. If anything, I enjoyed our conversation on the way here. Bumblebee is a wise little girl.”

“She is,” the nanny agreed. “And full of mischief,” she added, tapping Bumblebee’s nose. “Would you please excuse us, young sir? Her parents will be home at any moment. I do not wish to worry them.”

“Of course,” said Nicholas. “I need to get home as well. Goodbye, Bumblebee. Hopefully, we will meet again, and you can give me more pearls of wisdom.”

The little girl nodded, looking serious. “Just make sure you do not get too angry again,” she said.

He laughed. “I’ll certainly try.”

She smiled, the gesture oddly warming his heart. Nicholas felt a little disappointed when they turned away, making him frown. He had only known the girl briefly, but she had undoubtedly made an impression on him.

Chapter One

A ladybug flew onto Jane’s arm, its little legs tickling her skin. She always managed to attract insects or other wildlife outside, but she wasn’t keen on the ants that liked to get into everything and everywhere. Fortunately, the spot they picked to take a break from their journey to Pembroke and have a light meal was devoid of ants.

“I haven’t seen an ugly part of Wales yet,” Evelyn, her best friend, commented. “Is everywhere this green and beautiful?”

The ladybug flew away, freeing Jane to move her arm. She stretched for a piece of cheddar cheese and topped it with fig preserve.

“I haven’t seen the whole of Wales, but what I have seen is lovely,” Jane replied, offering her friend the sweet and savoury combination. “You will undoubtedly enjoy staying in Pembroke. Rose House has its own stream and river.”

“I recall all the stories you would have about Pembroke once you returned home,” said Evelyn, taking the cheese with a thankful smile. “I was always rather envious, but in the best possible way. Summers at Brighton didn’t seem nearly as interesting.”

From the age of seven, until she was thirteen, Jane and her parents made their journey from London to Wales for a brief holiday at Rose House every summer. Lord Wickham, the owner of the estate, was her father’s old friend from boarding school, and he insisted they stay with him before moving on to their country estate in England. Eventually, Jane’s mother complained about the back and forth of the journey, but Jane suspected it had more to do with the young woman Lord Wickham eventually married.

Jane’s mother had not liked the younger and prettier woman, so after many complaints, her father relented and made excuses about why they could no longer visit his friend. However, since the man Jane was to marry was from Pembroke, her parents had thought it would be a wonderful idea to stay in Wales for the summer—their first time in six years. Lord and Lady Wickham offered their home after they heard about her parents’ intention to stay in Pembroke, but the only reason Jane’s mother agreed was because the couple would not be there all summer.

“It is wonderful coming back here again,” said Jane. “I’m glad your parents allowed you to come with us this year.”

A slight breeze blew strands of her brunette hair into her face, making her regret taking the pins out. Fortunately, she had stuffed a ribbon in her dress pocket, so she fished it out and held it out to her friend.

“I told you not to take all the pins out,” Evelyn chided, rising to her knees. “Better yet, I told you to wear a headband to keep your hair back. You know how quickly annoyed you become when anything touches your face. ’Tis one of the only times you show a negative emotion.”

Evelyn crawled across their picnic blanket, taking the ribbon from Jane, quickly plaiting her waist-length hair into one braid, and tying the ribbon at the end to keep it from unravelling.

“I hate anything constricting,” said Jane.

Such as being forced to marry someone with whom she had nothing in common. Jane inwardly sighed, hating how the mere thought of the unwanted match ruined her good mood. Her father had given her little choice in the matter, stating it was her duty as his daughter to marry a man who would contribute to their family’s financial security and stability. They were by no means struggling, but her father always tended to look into the future and preferred not having any weak areas to potentially ruin the Ascot name. Henry Lancaster supposedly had the right family background, political and social influence, and respect to add to the Ascot name. Also, he was titled, which would give her one. Jane didn’t want to become the next Baroness Lancaster, especially if it meant marrying a man she didn’t like, but what she wanted didn’t matter.

“Girls!” Jane’s mother called. “It is time to return to the carriage. We are losing daylight.”

“Yes, Lady Ashbourne,” Evelyn replied, quickly placing their food in a cloth and tying up the ends.

They stood up and removed their blanket, allowing Jane to shake and fold it. Jane had insisted they sit away from her parents because they had already spent several hours in their company. She loved her parents, but they rarely had anything good to say about anyone. They loved complaining and pointing out flaws while ignoring their own, quickly draining a person of all patience and joy.

Returning to the carriage, their footman helped them inside, where her parents were already seated and waiting for them.

“We should make it to Rose House by nightfall,” her father informed them. “I had hoped to reach the estate with some light to spare, but our stops have eaten into our time.”

Jane inwardly sighed. He was indirectly complaining about needing to stop more than once along the way. If it were up to him, they would remain in the carriage and only stop to change horses.

“I will be glad once we reach the estate,” said Jane’s mother. “The journey seems more gruelling than I recall. It must be my age.”

“Citing age  as a reason is a slippery slope, Mama,” said Jane. “People will use it against you whenever you make a mistake or fail to live up to expectations. Comments such as, ‘she’s too old to understand the fashion of the day,’ or ‘she’s too old to wear something so extravagant’ will quickly hound you. Age is an excuse to render someone irrelevant.”

“Age is experience,” her father argued. “And with it comes wisdom. That can never be irrelevant.”

“Perhaps in some situations,” said Jane. “However, the world is changing, and people are looking for new ways to better their lives and improve things.”

Her father pursed his lips, crossing his arms over his chest. “What is wrong with the old ways of doing things? Of tradition? Do not tell me you are sympathetic towards these radical people calling for political change. I heard enough of their rot in London. Thieves and scoundrels—the  lot of them.”  

Jane inwardly shook her head as his bushy moustache twitched, indicating his growing annoyance. She hadn’t said a word about anything political, yet he was getting worked up as though she had mentioned the topic and wished to argue with him. Jane’s father wasn’t one to debate with anyone. He preferred to force his opinion and expect everyone to accept it. She needed to tread carefully now, or she would have a disgruntled man for the rest of the journey.

“I do not agree with anything radical, Papa,” she replied, sounding as meek as possible to appease him.

“And rightly so,” he said. “I taught you better than that. You will have to watch your words around Lord Lancaster. He hates these radicals as much as I do, and he will not appreciate his betrothed holding strong views on any matter. Your role is to support him in any capacity necessary.”

In other words, she needed to be a quiet, obedient wife who did everything her husband commanded. In the process, she would lose her very essence and moulded into whatever Lord Lancaster wanted. It struck her as strange that men expected their wives to be submissive and perhaps even afraid of their husbands while their mistresses were rebellious and allowed much more freedom. Jane knew this because her father had had numerous mistresses to which her mother had turned a blind eye. Some of these women had flaunted their relationship with him, but no one had raised an eyebrow. It seemed that even conservative and religious men were not above the lust of the flesh.

“I am confident Jane knows her duty, dear,” her mother said soothingly. “I taught her, after all. She has never disappointed us.”

“That may be, but she carries a stubborn streak in her eyes,” her father argued.

Jane almost smiled. Her father was just as stubborn, so she had inherited the trait from him. Of course, stubbornness in a man was expected, while a woman was seen as argumentative and disrespectful. It was said that the Lord never made mistakes, but Jane didn’t know how else to explain her vastly different way of thinking from her parents. They might as well have been from two different worlds, yet He had given her to them as their daughter.

“I’m sure Lord Lancaster will be a husband who can set her on the right path if need be,” said her mother.

Jane snuck a glance at her best friend, covertly rolling her eyes. Evelyn smiled slightly, offering her subtle support. She had been around Jane’s parents for many years and was accustomed to their constant nitpicking. They never seemed to know they were doing it, which somehow made their behaviour worse because they had internally justified their critical behaviour. However, they were just like any other miserable person because such behaviour could only result from unhappiness. And now, they wished to continue the curse of misery by forcing her to marry a man she didn’t love.

Jane had met Henry on many occasions, and not once had she experienced a spark of passion with him. They had nothing in common, and he didn’t even try to get to know her. She was fated to have a miserable marriage simply because her father found him suitable. Jane wanted more—someone who would listen to her. These thoughts would often lead her to think about her saviour, the young boy she met during their first visit to Rose House. He had been kind, amusing, handsome, strong, and a good listener. Although he had been several years older, she had idolized him, and as she grew older, she had silly fantasies of him walking into her life again and falling in love with her. Jane never met him again and had to accept he likely wasn’t from the area.

“A two-month courtship should be long enough before the banns are read,” her mother said. “What do you think, dear? Lord Lancaster and Jane already know each other. This courtship is merely to ensure people do not assume we have opted for a quick wedding because we’re trying to hide something.”

They all knew she meant either being caught in a questionable situation or pregnancy. Many people had succumbed to one or both of those scandalous options, including a cousin Jane was no longer allowed to see.

“We should ask Lord Lancaster,” her father replied. “He should have the final say.”

“God forbid that I would have an opinion,” Jane mumbled.

“What did you say, Jane?” her father asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I said God forbid it starts to rain,” she lied. “The clouds in the sky appear a little denser than moments ago.”

“I cannot smell rain,” her mother said, taking a few sniffs.

“Perhaps tomorrow,” Evelyn suggested.

“Possibly,” said Jane’s mother. “I hope it doesn’t affect Lord Lancaster’s plans with us. I know he doesn’t like to travel in the rain.”

Her parents invited him to have dinner with them the following evening because they wanted to discuss their betrothal. Although Jane and Henry would go through a courtship, their betrothal was already agreed upon. Her mother had even decided on the flowers, décor, wedding feast menu, and guest list for the big day. Of course, Jane had no say in any arrangements, not even the wedding date. She was just the bride, someone they had bartered in exchange for strengthening family ties. Like the good daughter she was, she had put her family’s needs before her own.                              

“He’ll be fine, Margaret,” said Jane’s father. “He is a man—what can a little rain do? Besides, he is not going to walk in it.”

“I suppose so,” her mother agreed. “What do you think about a summer ball? Lord Wickham said we should think about his home as ours for the summer, after all. I think we should establish our presence here a little more firmly by throwing a ball and getting to know the other families in Pembroke. Most of Lord Lancaster’s family reside in the area, so this would be the perfect opportunity to introduce Jane to them.”

“A ball sounds advantageous,” said Jane’s father. “Jane must help you plan it to prepare her for her own balls and dinner parties as Lancaster’s wife.”

“Do you think we’ll still be in Pembroke after their courtship?” Jane’s mother asked. “I’d like to have an engagement dinner party. I already have many ideas. It would be wonderful to have the same theme for the engagement party and the wedding.”

It would be wonderful if they would stop talking about the matter. Jane was sick of hearing it. It was all her parents could talk about since Henry showed an interest in her. She was thankful Evelyn was with her because she would need her friend’s optimism to keep her sane.

Evelyn was vivacious and made the best of any situation. Her parents were also less constrictive, allowing her more freedom than Jane could ever hope to experience. Usually, her parents would never have allowed her to have a friend like Evelyn because someone like her was a terrible influence. However, she was the daughter of the Earl and Countess of Westwood, a powerful couple known throughout the country. No one rejected people like them, for which she was thankful.

Staring outside the window, Jane listened to her parents discuss the engagement party, resisting the urge to place her chin in her hands. Her mother would reprimand her for slouching and give her a lecture about the importance of maintaining the correct body posture, no matter the setting. So, she kept her back straight, her hands on her lap, and her knees together. Evelyn was more relaxed beside her and leaning against the side of the carriage with her shoulder nudged into the upholstery. She looked ready to fall asleep and probably would have if not for the carriage lurching rather violently, nearly jostling them out of their seats.

“What the devil!” Jane’s father cried, losing control of his cane.

“We either rode over a rock jutting out of the road, or one of the wheels went into a hole,” said Jane, righting herself.

She picked up her father’s cane, where it had rolled to her feet, and rubbed the scuffed head before handing it to him.

“The driver knows to be more careful than this,” her mother complained.

“Well …” Evelyn began, a mischievous glint entering her eyes. “I heard this road is infamous for bandits attacking carriages and robbing them of all their belongings. They think nothing of leaving their victims half naked.”

Jane’s mother grew pale, her eyes darting from window to window as though worried that rough-looking men on horses might appear at any second.

“Do not speak of such things, Lady Evelyn,” her mother begged. “I’m sure those rumours must be false. We have never heard of bandits in these parts.”

“I heard the robberies have increased in the last few years,” said Evelyn. “You haven’t been here in many years, so perhaps new blood has taken over from the older folk.”

“Do you truly mean it?” Jane’s mother asked weakly.

Jane quietly laughed, looking away to watch the scenery outside. For all its beauty, it reminded her she was on her way to losing her freedom. Not that she’d had much of it, but being an unmarried woman had given her the freedom to dream about finding the perfect man and being happily married. Now, she had to resign herself to becoming Henry’s property and give up all she had hoped for.  

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“A Marquess for the Summer” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

Jane Ascot’s life is a suffocating cage of strict control and bleak prospects. Forced into an unwanted engagement, her future seems hopeless. Yet, everything changes when she’s rescued from a bandit attack by the enigmatic Lord Pembroke. His presence ignites a spark in her heart, awakening a deep, unexplainable connection. As they grow closer, their bond becomes undeniable, despite her engagement to Baron Lancaster and Lord Pembroke’s lingering grief for his late wife.

If only she knew that a sinister plot would soon threaten her chance at happiness…

Nicholas Ashford, Marquess of Pembroke, lives in seclusion, haunted by his late wife’s memory. Two years after her tragic death, he encounters bandits attacking a carriage and rescues Jane, who resurfaces his long-dormant emotions. Drawn to her despite her engagement to an unworthy Baron, Nicholas cannot ignore his growing feelings. Torn between his troubled past and the looming revelation of dangerous schemes, he must decide whether to fight for the woman who has touched his heart or retreat into loneliness once more.

Can love heal all wounds or is this romance doomed from its very start?

Jane and Nicholas’s lives were forever linked by a fleeting yet unforgettable encounter one fateful Summer as children. Years later, destiny reunites them, revealing the possibility of the happily ever after they deserve. However, the shadows of their families, jealousy and secrets will battle against their tender romance… Will they brave every storm together? Can they secure the future they both yearn for or will their dreams collapse under the many threats around them?

“A Marquess for the Summer” is a historical romance novel of approximately 70,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

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