The Salvation of the Deceived Lady: A Clean Historical Regency Romance Novel Read online

  The Salvation of the Deceived Lady

  A Historical Regency Romance Novel

  Hanna Hamilton

  Edited by

  Robin Spencer

  Contents

  A Thank You Gift

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Sacrificing the Untamed Lady Henrietta

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Also by Hanna Hamilton

  About the Author

  A Thank You Gift

  Thanks a lot for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me, because this is the best way to show me your love.

  As a Thank You gift I have written a full length novel for you called A True Lady. It’s only available to people who have downloaded one of my books and you can get your free copy by tapping this link here.

  Once more, thanks a lot for your love and support.

  Hanna Hamilton

  About the Book

  Because two can keep a secret if one of them is dead…

  The diamond brooch she accidentally discovers the night of the ball at Langley Hall is all it takes for Miss Selina Terrell to see her quiet life turn into her worst nightmare.

  Through a twist of fate, she becomes the puppet of a mysterious man lurking in the shadows. He bestows upon her a single mission: to spy upon the handsome Marquess of Northfolk – the man she is secretly in love with – or see her honor forever sullied in the eyes of society.

  As she’s running out of time, she has but two days to make a choice - save herself or risk it all to protect the only man she has ever cared about.

  Chapter 1

  The scent of lavender followed Selina as she entered the garden and turned toward Caddington Park, her family home. She didn’t relish giving up the independence of her morning walk, but any further delay was sure to inspire one of her mother’s lectures, another tirade of her faults.

  She stopped and turned back toward the woods, wishing to hide among the trees and blend into the foliage; perhaps they would not notice her absence. Selina sighed. Avoidance was useless. Her family needed her as a place to hang their disappointments. She squared her shoulders and raised her chin before leaving the wild wood behind her and crossing the manicured garden.

  The morning’s solitary walk afforded her a peace that eluded her most days, and she stole little moments of respite as often as possible. This morning, she had awoken early, the first rays of the sun slipping through her window, inviting her outdoors. Not wanting to alert the household to her plans, Selina dressed herself before retrieving her flower basket and sheers from the garden house. She strolled along the avenue that meandered around the wooded estate. Like her, the flowers bloomed more abundantly away from the critical eye of her mother, and those were the ones she coveted for her flower arrangement.

  Frequently, she wandered from the path in pursuit of those, moving with a single-minded purpose, paying no heed to the mud obstructing her. It was not a simple love of beauty that spurred her forward. Her mother often commented that not everyone had an aesthetic eye and Selina was determined to prove that the subtle snub was undeserved. She was certain her selections would impress her mother, although that was an impossible accomplishment.

  As the path emerged from the wood, Selina shifted her basket which overflowed with the fragrant blossoms of Sweet William and foxglove. She breathed in their perfume as she clutched the handle of the basket and returned home.

  Selina heard her mother’s voice rising on the wind before she saw her family on the veranda, enjoying their breakfast in the open air. Her body tensed in preparation of her mother’s imminent critique.

  “Selina,” her mother said, putting down the letter she had been reading. “You really should tell someone your itinerary before disappearing so early in the morning. Your father was terribly worried, were you not, Lord Downe?”

  Her husband grumbled as he shifted in his seat without lifting his gaze from his newspaper.

  “I am terribly sorry to have worried you, Mama. I simply went for a walk to cut some flowers for the front hall.” To emphasize her point, she displayed the blossoms to her mother.

  “Yes, well,” her mother said, eyeing the blossoms dismissively. “We decided not to delay our breakfast while awaiting your return, darling, but you should eat something now.”

  Selina nodded, then took her seat at the table. As she spread jam on her toast, she could feel her mother’s eyes lingering over her dress, specifically taking in the mud covering her hem.

  “We have discussed this, Selina. It is unbecoming for a young lady of your standing to parade around as filthy as a field hand. What, pray tell, happened to your clothes?”

  Selina sipped her tea and avoided her mother’s gaze. “I did not want to make a fuss, it really was not such an alarming event. It only felt so very urgent at the time,” she said, her mind racing to fill in the rest of her story. Traipsing through the mud, hunting the perfect petal, would only solidify her mother’s poor opinion. She needed a story that would improve her mother’s evaluation of her, not crush it.

  “Good heavens, Selina. What happened?” Lady Downe asked, color rising in her cheeks.

  “Yes, do tell your story,” Rebecca, Selina’s older sister, said, raising her eyebrow. Upon any other field of battle, Rebecca would be her fiercest ally, but against the formidable adversaries that were their parents, one sister’s misfortune was another’s victory. Each of Selina’s missteps elevated the stature of Rebecca.

  Lady Downe stared at her youngest daughter as Selina struggled to swallow a bit of toast. “Well,” she said, pausing to dab crumbs from her lips. “I had just stopped along the footpath to cut an exceptionally lovely stem of foxglove when I heard the squeal of children. I turned and looked up hill in time to see Mrs. Davies’ twins taking turns rolling down that rather steep hill in the meadow.”

  “Do not tell me you took a tumble with them,” Rebecca laughed.

  “Of course not!” Selina said, her cheeks flushed.

  “Do not be flippant, Rebecca,” her mother said to her middle daughter. “Mrs. Davies?”

  “Yes. She is the cook at Langley Hall. Her cottage is on the edge of the wood,” Selina said.

  “I cannot say that I have ever made her acquaintance,” Lady Downe said. “But that is no matter. Continue, Selina.”

  The frantic beating of Selina’s heart slowed slightly. She was grateful that her mother paid no mind to the lives of servants. She cleared her throat before beginning. “Well, they seemed to be having a marvelous time, Mrs. Davies’ twins, so I turned back to my flowers. That was when I heard t
he crying.”

  “Crying? From whom?” her mother asked, concern rising in her voice. She may not know Mrs. Davies, but she had the sympathy of a mother. Selina needed to proceed with caution. She did not want to incite her mother’s charitable spirit.

  “One of the girls rolled off course and found herself tangled in some brambles. The poor thing could not get herself free.” That was not entirely true. She had seen the girls playing, and they often gleefully rolled down the hill in that meadow. Even if they did not find themselves in any mischief today, Selina was sure they must have found themselves ensnared at one point or another.

  “It would appear that Mrs. Davies allows those children to run wild,” her mother tsked. “But what does that have to do with your dress?”

  Selina’s heart lightened. If her mother was able to pass judgement upon Mrs. Davies’ parenting, then she trusted the tale. She leaned in as she picked up the story. “Her sister could not free her from the briars, and so she called to me. I could not just leave her there, could I? That would not have been the Christian attitude, would it, Mama?”

  “No, I suppose not,” her mother said as she poured another cup of tea. “Perhaps I should call upon Mrs. Davies and enquire after the girl. I do hope the briars spared her face.”

  “Oh, no, Mother,” Selina said quickly, terrified of an encounter between her mother and Mrs. Davies. It would be impossible to free herself from the tangles of this little lie. “There is no need for that, Mama. The child was remarkably unmarred by the experience. I dried a few tears, and she joined her sister in another frolic. The only casualty seems to be my hem.”

  “Hmm,” Rebecca said, studying her sister’s face. “It’s uncanny how easily you find yourself in the right place for mischief.”

  It was clear that Rebecca had not believed a word of her story. While her sister openly enjoyed her discomfort, she would never expose Selina. Sibling rivalry had its limits. With pursed lips, Selina forced a smile for her sister. “It just seems to be my luck.”

  “Well, the Davies twins were lucky you were there,” Lady Downe said with conviction, unaware of the hostile exchange between her children. “Such reckless play so early in the morning! I wonder if their poor mother even knows they were out.”

  “Do let it go, Mama. Children make mistakes. I daresay they learned enough from this one,” Rebecca said casually. She winked quickly at her sister. Selina released the breath she had been holding. She smiled appreciatively to her sister.

  “I don’t know,” her mother said, “some children have a very difficult time learning from their mistakes.”

  Selina felt her cheeks grow hot under the gaze of her mother. “Is that letter from Marianne?” Selina asked, changing the subject. Her eldest sister, Marianne, married Lord Richard Percy at the start of the season, just after Easter. Both families expected them to take a house in London after the wedding, but as a surprise for his new bride, Lord Percy took Marianne on a journey to Italy. Selina felt the absence of her oldest sister keenly, and she looked forward to their return to England.

  “It is,” her mother said, picking up the letter again. “She and Richard are having such a lovely time in Italy,” Lady Downe said, caressing the paper as if it were a piece of her daughter. “At first I disapproved of such an ostentatious trip after the wedding, but it seems to be a wonderful experience.”

  “Are they still visiting Richard’s great aunt?” Rebecca asked, bored by the interrogation of her younger sister and intrigued by news of her eldest.

  “Yes. Percy has not been to Italy since he was a child, and his relations there are so eager to become acquainted with him and his lovely bride, that they are constantly surrounded by interesting people. Marianne is being entertained by family that they are both meeting for the first time,” her mother said. “I think their match will be quite a success.”

  Lord Downe cleared his throat. “Richard will only have peace if Marianne gives him a son,” he said, as he placed his paper on the table. “A man can only rest easy when he is awarded a son to replace him, to inherit his land and his title. Otherwise, there is no purpose for his accomplishments.” The melancholy in his voice resonated with a familiar ring. It was his favorite subject, and the women in his life were well versed in that point of view.

  Selina cringed under the weight of her father’s words. She felt guilt for her existence, although it was entirely outside her control. Her father had three children, all girls, and the Viscount was obsessed with discussing the futility of his life without an heir. Early in his marriage to Lady Downe, optimism dominated his daily life. They were young and, in his mind, destined to have sons. Marianne’s birth had been a setback. Rebecca’s had been a shock. Selina’s however, had been his biggest disappointment. Being with child at such a late point in Lady Downe’s life had been miraculous, and Lord Downe interpreted it as a sign of his son’s arrival. Another daughter had been a cruel trick against him. If there had been justice, a son to inherit would have sprouted from the family tree, but Lord Downe was denied that luxury, and it wounded him deeply.

  “Yes, well,” Lady Downe said, clearing her voice, “some things in life just cannot be changed.” A chill entered her voice, and Selina was heartened to know she did not carry the burden of her father’s opinion alone. It was one of the few things she shared with her mother.

  “Is Marianne still expecting to return next month?” Rebecca asked, as eager as her mother and sister to change the subject.

  “I’m not sure,” her mother replied, scanning through the letter. “There are some business concerns Percy would like to address while they are in Florence, so they may remain a month or so longer.”

  “Even when they do return to England,” Selina said, “they won’t return to Berkshire. Marianne said they will be settling in London.”

  Rebecca took her hand and squeezed it. She looked to her sister and saw the same sadness. Selina was not mourning for her sister, she was suffering the loss of their childhood together. Marianne was the first to enter the adult world, taking on the role of wife, and eventually, mother. It was the future the three of them were trained to enter, but it meant relinquishing the freedom of childhood and their dependence upon each other, which cannot survive outside the nursery forever.

  “That may be,” her mother said. “I, too, wish they would settle here, but it is not to be. I will, however, feel much better having my daughter in the same country.”

  Lord Downe opened his mouth to comment, but was interrupted by the appearance of the footman.

  “Yes, Ford?” he said.

  “This just arrived for you, My Lord,” Ford bowed as he presented a letter on a silver tray.

  “Thank you,” Lord Downe said, as he opened the letter. A smile played at his lips as he read. “I hope you are not offended by the summer solstice, my darling,” he said to his wife.

  “Whatever are you talking about, Lord Downe?”

  “In honor of their son’s return, the Duke and Duchess of Langley are hosting a ball celebrating the longest day of the year.”

  “Lord Northfolk is home?” Selina asked, her eyes widening.

  “It appears so,” her father said. “Does that interest you, Selina?”

  Her father laughed as her milky skin again reddened under his teasing.

  Selina had not seen Elias Weston, Lord Northfolk, in several years, although he had been the center of her childhood. When he did not return to Berkshire after completing his studies at Oxford, she taught herself to stop expecting his return.

  “Not particularly, Father. I’m just surprised,” she said, avoiding her father’s gaze. “I thought his move to Scotland might be permanent.”

  Her father waved the invitation as he spoke. “Luckily for our little society, it wasn’t.”

  “He is a fine young man,” Lady Downe said.

  Selina inspected the petals filling her basket to hide her blushing face. She agreed with her father’s estimation of Elias. She judged every man she met
against his character, by which they all fell short.

  “He will do his father and his title proud, I’m sure,” her father muttered before hiding behind his paper.

  Lady Downe narrowed her eyes at her husband, but continued to speak to her daughters with an airy voice. “Naturally, we shall attend. It would be an unforgivable slight not to.”

  Selina’s heart rose. Meeting him again in a crowd would be much better than encountering him alone. She feared her face would betray her and give away too much of her emotions. Her heart could adjust to seeing him from a distance at the ball, and by the time she would have to speak with him, she would be fully in control of herself.