A Hoyden and an Heiress (Greenford Waters Book 4) Read online

  Table of Contents

  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

  EPILOGUE

  A Hoyden and an Heiress

  by Kristin Vayden

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright © 2017 KRISTIN VAYDEN

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  A Hoyden and an Heiress

  Copyright © 2017 KRISTIN VAYDEN

  ISBN 9780692894903

  Cover Art Designed by Kristin Vayden

  For my amazing readers who refused to be silent while they waited for Berty to have her love story. Thank you for loving these characters as much as I do. You’ll never truly know how much I appreciate and love each of you!

  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

  EPILOGUE

  A Hoyden and an Heiress

  GreenFord Waters Book Four

  Kristin Vayden

  BERTY LAMONT WAS bored.

  Both her sisters, as well as her guardian, were married, having beautiful cherubic babies, and were loved by the kind of men that one read about in Gothic novels.

  And while she was perfectly, pleasantly happy to be the doting aunt, she was not thrilled to be carrying the label of spinster. Even if it wasn’t officially a label… yet. At nearly twenty, all the expectations for her life at this point were yet to be realized, and the most difficult part was that the highlight of her week was not adventure.

  But shopping.

  Dear Lord, there simply has to be more to life than this.

  Sighing dramatically, as she was often scolded for by Carlotta, she traced a raindrop’s trail down the leaded glass of her window overlooking Mayfair. No adventure, no tall dark and handsome stranger to whisk her away, and rain.

  Isn’t London depressing this time of year?

  Irritated with her sour mood, she squared her shoulders and stood. Moping about would do her no favors and would likely only get her in more trouble. Adventure remained frustratingly elusive, whilst trouble seemed to find her wherever she tried to hide.

  Odd how adventure and trouble kept separate company. Or, at least for her, they certainly did. But behaving was often duller than she could bear. She wasn’t like her sisters, Bethanny or Beatrix, both of whom were upstanding ladies of the ton with quite notorious love stories. The issue was that she was surrounded by people with epic romances, which put the focus on her lack of one.

  Her older sister was married to Lord Graham, who had faced the wrath of a duke to win her heart. Beatrix was married to a famous spy, who’d scoured the countryside to save her and fought off a villain to win her heart.

  Even her former governess, now guardian, had a heroic romance to tell! It was a story that put all other fairytales to shame — a duke falling in love with a governess.

  And marrying her to boot!

  Yet, Berty had no one to whisk her way to some utopian adventure.

  It wasn’t for lack of trying either; or as Carlotta, her governess-turned-guardian, would say, not for lack of finding trouble.

  Last year had been her first Season, and she’d had a brilliant come out sponsored by the Duke of Clairmont — her guardian and Carlotta’s husband. Her ball had been the talk of the Town. Yet all the men who’d volleyed for her affection had been shades of gray, dull and boring with little color against a monotonous London backdrop.

  She needed color, vibrancy!

  Something other than a gentleman pretending to fawn over her beauty when really he was simply enamored with her dowry. It was insulting.

  But most of all, tedious. And if she’d learned anything from her sisters, it was that love was anything but colorless. Quite honestly, she was beginning to worry that maybe… maybe all the adventurous men were taken.

  Leaving her alone.

  And bored. But which was worse? Marry to simply not be a spinster and relegate herself to a life of endless boredom, or accept the spinster title and make her own adventure?

  But to do the latter meant that she might be alone.

  No children.

  No romance.

  No growing old together…

  It was a difficult price, yet what choice did she have?

  As she left her room, she walked down the stately hall lined with rich wood paneling and paintings of the duke’s family. She descended the marble stairs and strode across the foyer till she reached the parlor, but found it empty. She plucked a book from the shelf and all but flopped onto the settee before opening it to a random page. After studying the same few paragraphs over and over, she twisted her lips. The nearly constant rain of the London spring pattered against the glass of the parlor’s window was irritating, thus pulling her thoughts back to the present.

  “Berty?” Carlotta’s voice called.

  She closed her book then stuffed it under a pillow. “In here,” Berty replied, fluffing the pillow quickly before turning to face the door.

  “Ah, here you are. Are you ready to leave?” Carlotta asked, arching a light-blond brow as a smile highlighted her face. It was easy to see why the duke had been so quickly taken by Carlotta, but she was far more beautiful of character than face — which was saying something indeed.

  “And where are we going?” Berty tilted her head.

  “Out.”

  “Out where?” Berty asked.

  “To Bond Street. I’m tired of you moping about the house. You need to get out, get some fresh air—”

  “The air is anything but fresh,” Berty interrupted.

  “Be that as it may, you need to do something. And don’t say you’re reading. I know what you read, and it’s not of the educational variety. So, come.” Carlotta spoke in her governess tone, the one that made Berty feel about seven years old.

  “Why do you insist on torturing me?” Berty groaned but stood and walked over to where the duchess waited.

  “Because I love you enough to push you when you refuse to push yourself.”

  “Is anyone else coming?” Berty looked out into the hall, expecting to see one or more of the children.

  “Nope. They are all in the nursery today, and it’s just you and I.”

  “Can’t we at least bring Grace?”

  “No. She’ll be tired before we even finish two shops.”

  “That’s the point,” Berty mumbled.

  “I heard that. And shame on you for using Grace for your own schemes. She’s only five.”

  “My sisters always used me.”

  Carlotta paused, and again, that pale brow lifted as she shook her head. “Your sisters tried to keep you in line, the only one using anyone was you. Believe me, I know.”

  �
��Very well, you win.” Berty continued into the hall.

  “Er, love, perhaps you should change?”

  “What’s the point? Am I going to meet someone I haven’t? Is he going to sweep me off my feet and my perfectly fashionable gown is what draws him into my arms?” Berty clasped her hands to her chest, sighing dramatically before scowling at Carlotta.

  “Do you want to risk it?” Carlotta asked, smirking.

  Berty paused, took a deep breath, and silently walked to the stairs. Drat, I hate it when Carlotta is right.

  “Thought so.”

  “Heard that.”

  “Don’t care,” Carlotta sing-songed.

  “I’ll be down shortly.”

  “I’ll be here,” Carlotta chimed.

  Berty could hear the smile in her voice. It was as comforting as it was irritating. But in short work, her maid had redressed her in a pale blue muslin day gown with a cream pelisse. And as much as she resented the fact, she did feel much more optimistic and even excited about going out.

  It was a sad day when shopping was the highlight.

  “The carriage is out front.” Carlotta linked arms with Berty, squeezing her gently before nodding to Murray, their wiry, gray-haired butler, who opened the door and wished them well.

  As Berty passed, Murray winked at her, making her smile broaden. Murray had always been a favorite amongst the sisters. He’d often sneaked them peppermints that he kept in his pocket when they were younger.

  A footman helped Berty ascend into the duke’s carriage. The two blood bays stomped impatiently as the coachman tried to settle them down.

  Soon they were heading down Mayfair toward Bond Street.

  “Where’s the duke today?” Berty asked, making small talk as her eyes scanned the slowly passing view of Hyde Park.

  “He’s finishing some paperwork on his estate in Bath,” Carlotta answered, a small grin tugging at her lips as if remembering a fond event.

  “I miss GreenFord Waters. We truly should take time to visit this summer.”

  “Agreed. Bath might be good for you.” Carlotta studied her, her gaze sharpening.

  Berty narrowed her eyes. “Stop inspecting me. I’m quite healthy and quite well.”

  “I’m aware. But I miss… I miss that little spark you always had. It’s been absent. Care to tell me what’s stolen it?” Carlotta tilted her head, her green eyes soft.

  “It’s just the usual.” Berty sighed, turning to gaze out the window. She’d already confided in Carlotta concerning her fear that maybe no more adventurous romances were to be had.

  “Ah, well… I may have a solution.”

  Berty’s gaze shot to Carlotta; curiosity froze her as she waited.

  “Mr. Willox spoke with the duke last week. It would seem that there is a potential leak of information in one of the country regiments near Bath. Mr. Willox has been assigned to explore the suspicion, but he needs a cover story.”

  “And?” Berty leaned forward.

  “That’s where you come in. It’s perfectly safe, or else you know Charles—” Carlotta cut off her words as though aware of the impropriety of referring to her husband by his given name. “—the duke, wouldn’t agree to it.”

  Berty smiled. The duke was as overprotective as they came. “True.”

  “And you’ll be properly chaperoned, just spending a holiday in the country. Mr. Willox will go as a footman, and it will be quite inconspicuous for him to visit taverns, inns, and the like so that he can gather whatever information he needs.”

  “Sounds divine!” Berty clapped her hands. “Mr. Willox… Have I met him?”

  Carlotta shook her head. “No. In fact, I haven’t either. The duke knows of him through his work with Lord Neville and Mr. Sheppard on your sister’s… er, situation.”

  “Ah, I see.” Berty clasped her hands on her lap. “So, he works for the War Office?”

  “Indeed. He was of great assistance to Lord Neville before the… situation with Beatrix was properly addressed,” Carlotta politely added.

  Berty was always impressed by the way her guardian could make a questionable affair sound better than it was in truth, a rare and sometime aggravating gift. Where Berty would have elaborated the tale to include the villain having had a cape and sword, Carlotta had only called the whole sordid mess a situation.

  Berty tilted her head, her enthusiasm growing as she considered the plans. “When will I be departing for Bath?”

  “Well, that detail isn’t known presently. However, it should be quite soon.” Carlotta pursed her lips as if suppressing a smile and smoothed her skirt. “I understand your heart, Berty. Of the three of you sisters, you’re the one who needs the most freedom. But in a world that tells young ladies to suppress the bolder side of their nature, I’m thankful that you haven’t conformed.”

  Berty blinked in shock before recovering her voice. “I’ll remember you said that when you next lecture me on my lack of manners.”

  Carlotta sighed. “I didn’t praise your lack of social grace. I praised your determination to remain true to yourself. Believe me, there is a distinction.”

  “If you say so.” Berty shrugged her shoulders.

  “It would be wise to be on your best behavior…” Carlotta spoke in a sharp tone, her veiled threat clear.

  “Drat.” Berty bit the word.

  “I thought you’d appreciate the reminder.”

  Berty opened her mouth to give a smart reply but hesitated, deciding to keep her peace. With an arched look from Carlotta, Berty turned her gaze to the window. They were just approaching Bond Street, and the cobbled streets were thick with carriages, people, and carts. The gray clouds dissipated enough to allow a few beams of sunlight to illuminate the square, lifting Berty’s spirits further.

  The carriage rolled to a stop just before Mrs. Bell’s shop. While her name wasn’t as en vogue as Madame Monique, she was vastly popular for her designs. Mrs. Bell had designed Berty’s come-out dress, which had sparked a frenzy shortly after.

  “Shall we?” Carlotta asked, scooting to the edge of her seat as the footman opened the door for them.

  Berty waited for her turn to alight from the carriage. The scent of smoke and humanity swirled to her nostrils, but a blessedly refreshing breeze helped perfume the otherwise stagnant air.

  Carlotta nodded to several people, all of them returning the gesture as they made their way to the entrance. One did not cut a duchess.

  The small bell rang as the door opened, and Mrs. Bell’s assistant smiled a welcome as she quickly bobbed a curtsey. “Your Grace! What a lovely surprise! How may we assist you today?” The younger woman all but fell over herself.

  Carlotta gave a kind smile, one that Berty recognized as her ”Be at ease, I’m not going to bite” smile. “Today we require a few sets of gloves, as well as a few day gowns.”

  The assistant nodded quickly. “Of course! Please follow me, and I’ll assist you with the gloves and then notify Mrs. Bell of your arrival.”

  “Excellent.” Carlotta smiled her thanks, and Berty watched as the assistant aided the Duchess of Clairmont. Carlotta had learned to wear the title well, with a natural grace that made it seem seamless to those outside her family, or so she’d been told. But it had taken some adjustment, especially in relating to others and the way they immediately deferred to her because of her title.

  To Berty, it only endeared her more.

  As they looked at the softest kid gloves London had to offer, Berty let her mind wander.

  An adventure! Truly Carlotta and the duke had given her the most precious gift. Even if only to Bath, it was still something other than the London scene of routs, card parties, and the same mundane social calendar! A delightful hope burst through her. And who knew whom she’d meet or where she’d explore! Part of her envied Mr. Willox. How exciting would it be to play a part, to be someone else, to have a chance to uncover a mystery!

  The possibilities were endless, and it overjoyed her heart.

  If on
ly she could leave sooner than later!

  Much sooner.

  HENRY WILLOX CHECKED his pocket watch then placed it back in his jacket. The hired hack hit a rut in the road, and Henry grabbed the seat to keep from shifting too much. No matter how he looked at his predicament, he was damned if he did and damned if he did not. His assignment was easy enough — gather information on the regiment stationed near Bath and determine if a leak of information existed.

  What wasn’t easy was that his assignment would not be completed alone.

  The driver pulled up to the Duke of Clairmont’s residence, and Henry bit back a groan. This was going to be hell. A chit was going to be his cover story. In truth, he didn’t think he needed a cover story, but Neville and the duke had insisted. So, he was to be saddled with a young miss of the ton, posing as her footman and dealing with her drama.

  Lord help him.

  The carriage came to a stop, and Henry closed his eyes, praying for deliverance before stepping onto the circular drive of the duke’s residence. Already two conveyances were being loaded with what he assumed were the duke’s ward’s belongings.

  He refused to roll his eyes as a footman tied a trunk to the back of the well-sprung carriage.

  A month. They were simply going to be gone for month.

  Ignoring the additional trunks being carried out, Henry took the steps to the entrance two at a time then paused. The door was open. Should he knock or simply wait?

  “And you would be?” An elderly gentleman arched a bushy gray eyebrow.

  He was dressed in the duke’s livery; presumably he was the butler.

  “I’m here to meet with His Grace about the journey.”

  “Ah, you must be Mr. Willox. If you’ll come this way? His Grace is expecting you.”

  The butler started down the hall, and Henry took in the lavish surroundings. Marbled columns lined the entrance, and as he walked inside the Town residence of the Duke of Clairmont, he was immediately reminded of their difference in stations. Marbled floors glistened with high polish, rich Turkish rugs decorated the flooring that led up to richly paneled walls with intricate tapestries, all tastefully accented by the newest trend in London, Egyptology. When he’d met the duke before, it had been at Lord Neville’s residence. And while Neville was quite wealthy, it was clear that the duke was everything his title implied — powerful, wealthy, notorious.