The Heiress's Timely Hero (Timely Bride Book 2) Read online

  The Heiress’s Timely Hero

  Dana R. Lynn

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Untitled

  The Heiress’s Timely Hero

  by Dana R. Lynn

  Published by Clean Reads

  www.cleanreads.com

  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.

  THE HEIRESS’S TIMELY HERO

  Copyright © 2017 DANA R. LYNN

  ISBN 978-1-62135-628-8

  Cover Art Designed by CORA GRAPHICS

  For Hanna and Abby. I hope this meets your expectations.

  Chapter 1

  Kent, England, 1821

  “My own mother is attempting to murder me.”

  Shocked that she had dared to utter the words aloud, Anne de Bourgh slapped one elegant gloved hand over her mouth and twisted her torso to glance around. She was alone. That was almost as shocking as her outburst had been. For her mother, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, never left her alone. Whether she was sitting in the dreary parlor or resting, someone was always nearby. Someone in her mother’s employ who was paid to inform Lady Catherine of Anne’s every movement.

  But now, she was alone. Her aging companion, Mrs. Jenkins, had stepped out for a breath of fresh air. Anne would never lower herself to gossip, but she was fairly certain that the woman had been imbibing and was tipsy. It would not be unusual for her to sneak back to her room for a nap. How Lady Catherine had allowed this behavior to continue she did not know. Anne would not complain.

  Resolved not to let the moment pass her by, Anne picked up the teacup filled with the special tea her mother had made for her daily. Cautiously, she sniffed at the fragrance rising from it, wrinkling her nose in distaste. Without remorse, she tipped the cup and let the contents pour out her window, into the shrubbery below.

  She straightened as footsteps hurried towards the lounge, placing her now empty cup on the table beside her. As best as she could, she rearranged her expression into what she hoped was innocent. Vacant would work to her benefit, too.

  Her mother, and all her mother’s staff, often underestimated Anne’s intelligence. As was common in the ton, the assumption was that a weak constitution invariably went hand in hand with a weak mind.

  Weak in body she may be, but her mind was as sharp as any gentleman’s, and her understanding was excellent.

  Which was how she had come to be daily dumping her morning tea amid the bushes, instead of drinking it down like the docile daughter her domineering mother had trained her to be. Did Lady Catherine think her taste buds and sense of smell were also addled?

  Anne’s personal maid, Betsy, scurried into the room, quick as a field mouse. Funny, that she should compare the younger girl to a mouse. For there was nothing at all mousy about her. Her hair was fiery red, and her eyes were the greenest Anne had ever seen. They blazed with life and intelligence. How such a rare creature came to work for Lady Catherine de Bourgh was a mystery.

  If Anne had been less wary, she might have trusted her with her secrets. This was not a girl she could expect to be held easily under her mother’s thumb. In fact, she reminded Anne a bit of her cousin Fitzwilliam Darcy’s sparkling wife, Elizabeth. Now, there was a brave one! She never allowed Lady Catherine to scare her.

  Marrying Elizabeth Bennet was the best decision William had ever made. Anne grimaced. Once, she might have called her tall and sober cousin Darcy, as he was known by the rest of the ton. During the past few years, however, she’d grown closer to him. She could never call him Fitzwilliam. Not only was it a horrid first name, but it was also her mother’s family name. Besides, the name was now associated with scandal and bad memories. Seven years ago, her cousin Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam had disappeared under mysterious circumstances, along with the woman he loved, Miss James. Richard was the younger son of an earl, Lord Whitehaven. Lord Whitehaven and his sister, Lady Catherine, had tried to force Richard to marry Anne. Not because it was a good match. No. Lord Whitehaven and Lady Catherine both believed Anne would die young. If she had married Richard, then Rosings Park, the family home, would remain in the family.

  Richard’s disappearance had set tongues wagging for months. Anne did not pay attention to the gossip. She only knew that she missed her cousin, dreadfully. Simply hearing the name Fitzwilliam was painful. Nor could she bring herself to use the name for Darcy, so she had taken to calling him William, the way his sister and his wife did.

  “Oh, miss!” Betsy said, interrupting her thoughts. It was almost a wail. “You have finished your tea!”

  “My mother said every drop must be drained.”

  The servant flicked her a surprised glance. Did the girl hear the ironic undertones laced through her voice? She must remember to contain her sarcastic streak better.

  “Yes, miss.” Betsy picked up the cup and put it on a tray to be returned to the kitchen. Her nose crinkled and the pink corners of her mouth turned down. Eyes shifting nervously towards her mistress, she bit her lip.

  “Miss, how do you feel?” The question was casual enough, but Anne had been focusing in on hidden meanings for years. Betsy knew something. How much? And was she in collusion with Lady Catherine?

  “I feel perfectly well, thank you, Betsy.” Anne watched carefully, intent on gauging the response to her answer.

  And there it was. A soft sigh. A slight smile tilting the lips that had been turned down seconds before. Betsy was relieved. Maybe she had a friend in her maid, after all.

  “Lady Catherine said her physician would be paying you a call this morning, miss.”

  “Her physician called on me Tuesday last. A mere six days ago. I wonder why I am to be subjected to another exam.”

  Betsy hesitated. Glanced nervously over her shoulder.

  She did know more about what was going on. Anne determined to find out what. It would have to wait, though. Her mother had her spies all over the grand, if overdone, house. She would have to conspire to be alone with the maid. Away from the house.

  The physician arrived shortly after Betsy left her. Lady Catherine marched into the room on his heels. Anne forced herself to suffer through his examination. Each time he looked at her with his cold eyes, she shuddered with revulsion. He smiled at each shudder. A cruel, greedy smile.

  “Madam, see how she shakes? A sure sign that she is weakening. You must have a care, Miss de Bourgh. Your health is very delicate at present.”

  His expression was that of the utmost concern. Anne, however, wasn’t deceived. Malicious glee rang in his voice.

  “Do you need more of the tonic I gave you, Lady Catherine?”

  A conspiratorial glance flowed between the doctor and her mother.

  “I have sufficient tonic to last out the week, sir.”

  “Good, good.” The physician nodded sagely before returning his gaze to Anne. “Now, Miss de Bourgh, be certain to take the full dose. It is most effective that way.”

  “I empty my tea cup each morning, sir. Exactly as my mother instructed me.” Only she was aware of the double meaning in her words. It was unbecoming of her, she was aware, but it gave her quite a bit of pleasure to be the one deceiving them. The pair of them, so satisfied that their nefarious plan would succeed. Anne watched as they exchanged smug smiles.

  “Capital! I will be on my way. Lady Catherine. Miss de Bourgh.” He bowed to each of the ladies, his oily smile firmly in place. “Until next week.”

  “Of course. Walk with me. I have something I need to discuss with you.”

  Anne could hardly keep her bland countenance. Her mother ordered everybody about. If His Majesty came for a visit, she would most likely demand he bow to her.

  Lady Catherine left the room with the physician, without acknowledging her daughter. Anne was used to being ignored by her mother. Ever since she had failed to capture either of her cousins in marriage, her mother had abandoned her emotionally. Not that her mother had ever been maternal. It had been nearly eight years since William had married Elizabeth. Her mother had flown into a rage upon his marriage. When Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss James had disappeared together seven years ago, presumably to marry against his parents’ wishes, Lady Catherine had lost all interest in her only child. She had even ceased to communicate with her offspring. All communication was done through carefully selected servants. The situation had become unbearable.

  That’s probably when Mama started to plan to kill me, she thought. Although it had taken up until recently for her to implement her plans.

  About two weeks ago, she had started to receive a new “tonic” in her tea each morning. She had first noticed the bitter taste and the strange smell. Then she had started to feel lethargic, and her mind began to get hazy. She had enough
of her wits about her to realize that the timing of her “illness” corresponded with the new medicine. So, she had done her best to avoid taking it.

  Anne had no hope of escaping her current circumstances. She was thirty-two years old; hopelessly on the shelf. Not that she had any prospects. Her mother had never allowed her to officially come out when she was younger, so certain that her wishes to combine the wealth of Rosings and Pemberley would come to fruition.

  Anne rose from her seat and returned to her rooms. She surprised two maids gossiping in her sitting room as she entered. She couldn’t hear what they were whispering about, but it wasn’t too difficult to guess. Their whispers ceased as she approached. Their curtsies were hurried. The flustered girls collided in their haste to escape from her room. Most likely, they were racing to see who could reach Lady Catherine first to inform her that Miss Anne was going to her rooms to “rest”.

  Rest. That was the last activity she wished to do at the moment. She had been “resting” all her life. Yes, she had caught more than her share of colds as a child, but she hadn’t been sickly. Resentment bubbled up inside her. The only reason society thought she was sickly was because her mother had forced inactivity on her all her life. No balls. No strenuous activity. No music lessons.

  She had no accomplishments, thanks to her mother’s scheming.

  And now that her mother’s plans had all fallen through, she had nothing. Period.

  No coming out. No suitors. No hope.

  Derbyshire, England, Present Day

  The heavy clouds rolling across the dark sky promised a thunderstorm was on its way. Again. Morgan James scowled at the sky, shoving his hands into the back pockets of his blue jeans as he stalked towards the monstrosity of a house. He reached the door not a second too soon. The sky opened up and dumped thick sheets of rain on the already soggy English landscape.

  He missed Pennsylvania. At home, he could be getting ready for the fall semester at the college where he taught. Very few things gave him as much pleasure as teaching science. Science was real. It kept him grounded. It had also saved his life.

  Not for the first time, he wondered at the wisdom of keeping this old place. It was ugly. Drafty. Expensive to keep up. Not to mention the fact that both he and his sister lived across the ocean from it.

  In his bones, Morgan knew that none of these matters were important. It had been left to the two of them by their grandmother. And it held something that they couldn’t allow to be found by anyone else.

  Against all logic, there was a time portal on the grounds.

  “Is it raining again?”

  Speaking of that time portal . . .

  Mackenzie Fitzwilliam, his sister, grimaced as she entered the room, her very sleepy two-year-old daughter Georgiana on her hip. She was several months pregnant again, although she was only now starting to show. Seven years ago, his sister had found the portal by mistake. And landed two hundred years in the past. Fortunately, she had managed to find her way back home again.

  “Sure is, sis.” He grinned as the toddler held out her arms to him. Taking the little girl from her mother, he chucked her under the chin then placed a kiss on her black curls. “Where’s Trouble?”

  “Morgan, your niece’s name is Sarah. Not Trouble.” Kenzie fixed her deadliest glare at her brother. Unfortunately, he just smirked in response.

  “He calls her Trouble because she gets into it so much. Don’t you, Sarah Beth?” Richard Fitzwilliam strolled into the room, holding the hand of four-year-old Sarah. Sarah shrugged, more interested in the grape Popsicle in her hand.

  Instantly, Georgiana’s loyalty changed. Holding out her arms, she started to fuss. Experience told him her volume would only increase until she got her way.

  “You better let me have her, Brother. I’m heading to the playroom with Sarah.”

  Morgan handed her over.

  “Noisy baggage.” Richard plopped a smacking kiss on her cheek and led the girls away. They had him completely wrapped around their little fingers.

  Morgan stared after his brother-in-law. His sister hadn’t returned from Regency England alone. She’d literally appeared in the arms of Richard, a former Colonel in His Majesty’s Army. Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam had willingly resigned his commission and left his home and family to follow Kenzie into the unknown. He had adapted rather well to the modern world. Although, every now and then, he would use a phrase from the past. Luckily, most people back home just figured that was how the English talked.

  “Hey, Morgan.” He turned to look at his sister. Kenzie walked apart from her family and came to stand next to him. She darted a quick glance back at her husband, watching him disappear inside the playroom. It hadn’t been a playroom originally, of course. But being stuck in England for three weeks meant they had to improvise. So the large room that had at one time been a second sitting room became Sarah’s own personal domain. In that room, she was the queen. Morgan loved his nieces with all his heart.

  “What’s on your mind, sis?”

  Kenzie played with her long, dark braid. A sure sign she was concerned.

  “Richard’s worried. He was doing some research on his family.”

  Morgan raised his eyebrows. They had recently discovered the James family were descendants of Charles Bingley and his wife Jane. Charles had been one of Richard’s friends from the past. Unfortunately, that meant they were also related to Charles’ sister, Caroline. Richard rolled his eyes whenever her name was mentioned. Apparently Caroline Bingley was a fortune hunter with a nasty temper. She hadn’t interested Morgan enough to find out more.

  “His cousin, Anne de Bourgh, seemed to disappear about seven years after he did. And there were questions about his Aunt Catherine’s involvement . . .”

  “Don’t even ask it, Kenz.” Morgan frowned at his sister. “It was one thing to accidently go back in time. And it was a miracle that you both made it home in one piece. And in the correct year. You can’t risk it again. Who knows what would happen. Not to mention the damage to time itself. Could you imagine accidentally erasing someone?”

  “I know. I just wish I could ease his pain.”

  “Mackenzie. Even if nothing happened to her, she would still be long dead. It’s the way things work. Not everyone gets a happy ending.”

  Dissatisfaction fluttered across Kenzie’s face. Then she sighed and nodded. “I know. And you’re right. It would be easier if we could stop coming here year after year. He only worries about his family like this when we’re in England. The other forty-nine weeks of the year he’s perfectly content.”

  Morgan nodded. He had seen for himself that his sister’s marriage was a happy one. At times, he was almost jealous. He doubted very much that any woman would want him. Not with his defects.

  Later that evening, he wandered around the library. His mind went over the conversation with his sister again and again. She couldn’t go back again. Neither could Richard. It was too risky.

  But why couldn’t he?

  It wasn’t like he had a family to support. No wife. No kids. If anyone could go back, it was him.

  For an hour, he wrestled with his thoughts. It wasn’t a good idea. He knew that. But at the same time, it would give him a purpose. If only a temporary one. He could go back, check on Richard’s family, and then return home. If his sister was correct, there were several people in the past who knew about the portal. Or who knew about his sister and Richard’s situation.

  Absently, he picked up the book on the desk. Flipping through the pages, he saw that he had picked up Richard’s art journal. The crisp white pages were filled with intricate pencil drawings. People. Landscapes. Doodles. For a military man, he had a surprisingly sensitive side. Morgan flipped one more page. And stopped.

  He knew the face before him. Richard had drawn her before. Lungs burning, he realized he was holding his breath.

  She was exquisite.

  But that wasn’t what made his chest ache. It was the hopeless despair that seemed to fill those penciled-in eyes. The mouth wasn’t smiling. But the corners were turned up slightly, as if she were trying to show a brave face.