Always the Chaperone Read online

  Always the Chaperone

  Never the Bride

  Book 2

  Emily E K Murdoch

  © Copyright 2020 by Emily E K Murdoch

  Text by Emily E K Murdoch

  Cover by Dar Albert

  Dragonblade Publishing, Inc. is an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.

  P.O. Box 7968

  La Verne CA 91750

  [email protected]

  Produced in the United States of America

  First Edition March 2020

  Kindle Edition

  Reproduction of any kind except where it pertains to short quotes in relation to advertising or promotion is strictly prohibited.

  All Rights Reserved.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  License Notes:

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook, once purchased, may not be re-sold. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it or borrow it, or it was not purchased for you and given as a gift for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. If this book was purchased on an unauthorized platform, then it is a pirated and/or unauthorized copy and violators will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Do not purchase or accept pirated copies. Thank you for respecting the author’s hard work. For subsidiary rights, contact Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.

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  Additional Dragonblade books by Author Emily E K Murdoch

  Never The Bride Series

  Always the Bridesmaid (Book 1)

  Always the Chaperone (Book 2)

  Always the Courtesan (Book 3)

  Always the Best Friend (Book 4)

  Always the Wallflower (Book 5)

  Always the Bluestocking (Book 6)

  *** Please visit Dragonblade’s website for a full list of books and authors. Sign up for Dragonblade’s blog for sneak peeks, interviews, and more: ***

  www.dragonbladepublishing.com

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Publisher’s Note

  Additional Dragonblade books by Author Emily E K Murdoch

  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

  Epilogue

  About Emily E K Murdoch

  Chapter One

  “And he is forbidden, Matthews, from having a third, do you hear me?” Charlotte smiled at the butler knowingly, shaking away the hair over her eyes. “The earl has never been able to hold his liquor, and my brother’s wedding is not the time to test that.”

  Matthews bowed and walked from the lawn to the terrace, toward a gentleman who required help. He had managed to finish an entire bottle of port single-handedly and now seemed so intoxicated that he looked unsure whether he had attended the wedding with his wife and children.

  Charlotte placed two bottles of wine on the silver platter moving past her in the hands of a footman. Well, the weather had held, which was a miracle for March. The wedding had been perfect. Exactly what her brother deserved.

  The lawn of Stonehaven Lacey was clipped to precision, all two hundred guests had arrived on time, and more importantly, to Charlotte’s mind, on their best behavior. It was done.

  Her smile faded. It was likely to be the only wedding Stonehaven celebrated. After all, the odds of her taking a trip down the aisle were less than none.

  “What a stupendous wedding, Lady Charlotte!” A woman Charlotte did not recognize beamed. “And you have undertaken all the details yourself, your new sister was telling me.”

  Charlotte swallowed the temptation to say it was the only wedding she would probably ever organize and nodded.

  “You are a wonder. Is she not a wonder, Mrs. Bryant?”

  The most notorious gossip of Bath turned and smiled, walking over to the pair of them. Charlotte’s heart sank. Anyone but Mrs. Bryant.

  “A lovely wedding,” she said in clipped tones. “Of course, nothing can quite compare to Maria’s wedding, but then it is unfair to strike the comparison. Why, I heard the other day…”

  As always, Mrs. Bryant was soon surrounded by a flock of nosy people eager to hear the latest news and scandal. Trapped in the middle, Charlotte’s attention wandered, and she saw them.

  Richard and Tabitha. They looked so in love, so happy. Charlotte quashed the bitterness threatening to rise each time she thought about them. She had promised herself she would not be emotional and had come through the whole day without tears. She was not going to succumb.

  She needed a distraction.

  “You must excuse me,” she said to the crowd, none of whom were paying her any attention, eyes on Mrs. Bryant. Breaking free from the crush, she crossed the lawn and brought her new sister into her arms.

  “I could not be more pleased to be proved wrong,” laughed Charlotte. “It is clear to anyone who loves Richard that he is absolutely besotted with you.”

  Tabitha laughed, her green eyes sparkling in the afternoon sun as Charlotte released her. “I do not think I could have asked for a better husband, nor a better welcome into a family. Thank you for being my bridesmaid, Charlotte. I would not have had the courage to marry today without you.”

  Charlotte knew Tabitha meant her words kindly, but it hurt to see such a young thing become the new Duchess of Axwick, her mother’s title. Tabitha was barely five and twenty. Here she was, ten years older, and no closer to marriage than she had been when Tabitha’s age. “Well, it’s certainly better than being a chaperone.”

  Tabitha opened her mouth, but before she could speak, a young woman approached them with a nervous smile.

  “Lady Charlotte? I beg a moment of your time and apologize for the intrusion.”

  Charlotte’s false smile did not waver. She knew what this interruption was about. “Yes, Miss Darby?”

  Her nervous smile broadened, and she started speaking quickly as though she would lose heart if she did not speak in a rush. “It is only that I thought you may be attending The Magic Flute in Bath next week, and I would very much like to go. But my father is too unwell to leave the house, and I have been asked by William Lennox, the Duke of Richmond, to attend. You must have met him and his brother, but of course, I may not go alone. It would not be seemly, so I was
wondering if you would accompany me as my chaperone?”

  There it was. The inevitable request, and Charlotte had been so sure she would get through the wedding without one! It hurt, for she had acted in that capacity for four or five couples last Season. She did not consider Charlotte a companion but an old woman who would ensure nothing untoward occurred. But did Miss Darby have to make it so obvious?

  Miss Darby had not said the word spinster, but she may as well have. Charlotte bit down the retort that she should ask Lady Romeril to do it, for she was over sixty and definitely beyond the suggestion of scandal.

  In her most genteel voice, she said, “Of course, Miss Darby. I would be delighted to accompany you. Please send round the details in a notecard, so I shall ensure not to engage myself for anything else that evening.”

  “Oh, Lady Charlotte, you can have no idea how happy you make me!” Miss Darby’s eyes were wide and so was her mouth. “And to think before I thought of you, I could not conceive of anyone else who would accompany me, for you know Miss Seton is too young, and Mrs. Coulson is engaged that evening. After I saw you in the church today, I thought…”

  Was there any point in trying to stem the flow of those well-meaning but excruciating pleasantries? Charlotte stared as Miss Darby allowed her mouth to run away with her, trying to ignore the hurt on Tabitha’s face. Without saying a word, she reached out and squeezed her new sister’s hand.

  “And how is the Duchess of Axwick feeling?” Her brother, Richard, had crept up behind Tabitha and wrapped his arms around his new bride, murmuring in her ear.

  Tabitha flushed with pleasure, and Charlotte turned away. She could not bear the happiness on their faces. At her time of life, the possibility of marriage was over. A life of chaperoning was ahead of her.

  “–will tell the gentlemen. Thank you again!”

  Charlotte blinked. She had paid so little attention to Miss Darby; she had not noticed her raptures had ended. The lady curtsied and returned to her group.

  The group was predominately ladies, all young, pretty, with the most ridiculous bonnets of the latest fashions. Accompanying them were two gentlemen. They were obviously brothers, and one could see it in their faces, the same eyes and the same curve of the mouth. They even held themselves similarly, rather stiffly, as though a wooden board had been shoved up their shirts and breeches.

  Charlotte stifled a giggle. One of the brothers was taller than the other, and more handsome, in her opinion. More strength in the jaw, more breadth in the shoulder. More presence than some gentlemen had and others strived for.

  What would it be like to be a woman standing with them? Laughing away without a care in the world, certain you are going to find a match and end the Season married?

  And what would the gentlemen be thinking? The shorter of the two was speaking, telling a story, and capturing their attention. Her gaze flickered over to the taller. What was he like? Did he enjoy societal pleasantries, or was he as bored as she was?

  His gaze suddenly met hers, and Charlotte gasped as a flash of something—heat, intrigue, interest, she could not tell, sparked across her body. He was looking right at her as though he had sought her out in a crowd and finally discovered her. His eyes were blue, and he smiled.

  Heat warmed her cheeks, and she immediately dropped her gaze. What must he think of her, staring at a gentleman?

  Richard and Tabitha had disappeared, but a few people stood around talking, and she quickly attended to their conversation. Anything to distract her from that look.

  “—and so I told them, I do not care whether it is a park or a garden or the street!” A woman was saying in an impressive voice, and two others were nodding. “If you are going to be seen in that gentleman’s company again, I beg you to take a chaperone. I mean to say, without a chaperone, who can tell what truly occurred!”

  Charlotte’s heart sunk. Of course, it was a conversation about chaperones. Fate would permit nothing else. As Admiral Jenkins spoke to give his commendation to the woman’s words, Charlotte risked a glance.

  He was still staring, and his smile was wider.

  He could not be staring at her. There must be a young, beautiful lady behind her. Her jaw relaxed as she turned to look.

  There was no one behind her.

  This was unprecedented; no gentleman had ever looked at her like that! Charlotte felt uneasy, desperate to walk away but with no control over her feet. She was the one always in the background, not the woman in the front!

  “What say you, Lady Charlotte?” The admiral was glaring as though she was supposed to heartily endorse his words and had missed her cue. “As a seasoned chaperone, you must agree it is vital for our young people to have an older, wiser presence in their courting?”

  Charlotte had inherited few things from the Axwick line for which she was thankful, and one of them was her temper. It was her father’s temper and no matter how she tried to suppress the flames, it rose hot and spluttering, like a fire with too much fuel.

  “Are you asking my opinion as someone no longer young?” she asked curtly, a mirthless smile on her face.

  The admiral stomped his feet. “Well, I did not exactly mean…”

  Face still hot from the gaze of the tall gentleman, she decided to rescue the admiral and place him once more on solid ground.

  “You must excuse me,” she said with a deep curtsey, “I have just seen something needing my attention.”

  The man’s relief was palpable, but it was nothing to the confusion whirling in Charlotte’s mind as she stepped away and saw the unknown gentleman was still looking at her. His smile threw his features into an even more favorable light.

  She had to get away from this strange man. What could he possibly want with her?

  She stumbled as she stepped off the lawn and onto the terrace and was immediately accosted.

  “Ah, Lady Charlotte! What a wonderful wedding, do you not think?”

  It was Miss Theodosia Ashbrooke, the well-known matchmaker, all the way from London. Charlotte tried to smile, anything to hide her confusion.

  “Yes, it was,” she managed. “I do apologize, Miss Ashbrooke, please excuse—”

  “Yes, I think it is my third favorite,” Miss Ashbrooke said thoughtfully. “I say so advisedly, for all my clients invite me to their weddings. Why, the other day—”

  “You must excuse me,” said Charlotte firmly, stepping around the matchmaker and aiming for the dining room.

  “Lady Charlotte!” Jacob Beauvale, Lord Westray, grabbed her hand, and if he had not been such an old friend of the family, she would have hit him for so irritatingly stopping her in her tracks once more. “A favor, old thing. I have a sweet miss I wish to have to dinner, but blasted etiquette, I need another female in the house. Are you available?”

  “My calendar is booking up quickly, Westray,” Charlotte said tartly, wrenching her arm away and trying not to think of those piercing blue eyes. “You will have to…” Her voice died as she saw the disappointed look on his face. “Damn it, Westray, you know how I feel about chaperoning.”

  His eyes glittered. “How you love it so much, you mean, when it means helping out a friend who has stood by your brother’s side.”

  “You blaggard,” sighed Charlotte. Anything to get away. “Give the details to Matthews, and I will see if I am available.”

  It was infuriating being unable to find a quiet place where she could think in her own home! But Richard had insisted on the guest list, and though Stonehaven Lacey was a large manor, it was unaccustomed to hosting hundreds.

  Wherever Charlotte turned, there were people, well-wishers, gossips, footmen, the curious, the nosy, and the downright irritating. All she wanted was a minute to sit quietly and think. To treasure that moment when her eyes had met his.

  And then she thought of it. Within moments, she was turning a handle and seeing with relief that the music room was empty.

  She shut the door and leaned on it. Peace at last. As soon as Richard and Tabitha left for
their honeymoon, she was going straight to Bath. How strange that, today, Bath was the quieter option!

  The large pianoforte was in the center of the room, the heavy linen cover faded in patches. The door to the garden was open, but the music room was on the other side of the house from those celebrating her brother’s wedding. No one would find her here. Throwing open the doors, Charlotte breathed in the clean spring air and slumped onto the piano stool.

  She should have expected it. She should have known a wedding was the perfect opportunity for young people to meet potential suitors, for young ladies who had just come out this Season to hunt for husbands.

  At five and thirty, she had seen the same dance over and over again. Some of her peers, ladies of title and fortune who had come out with her, were starting to think of matches for their own children.

  Charlotte pushed up the lid of the pianoforte, allowing her hand to rest gently on the keys. There was no use in denying it. She was a spinster, and her only role in the marriage market now was to help others.

  Her fingers fell naturally into a Mozart sonata. It had been one of the first pieces Mr. Portland, their tutor, had taught her. A natural smile crept across her face at the memory of his frustration, eventually admitting politely—for a tutor did not scream with irritation at the daughter of a duke—that she would never be much of a musician.

  All these years later, it turned out she was not much of a lady of society either.

  “I am almost sure I know that tune.”

  Chapter Two

  It was disgraceful manners to appear bored before a lady. William Lennox knew this even before he had ascended to the title of Duke of Mercia.

  But that did not make it easier when Miss Darby warbled on about all of the delightful beaus at Almack’s.

  “—but then, as a doctor, of course, he is rather busy with his patients,” she simpered, throwing a look up to William. “It is difficult to shake off Mr. Prander, however, who…”