( COMPLETED STORY)
What happens when the rakish Lord in the whole of London is truly falling in love with a simple, plain, and most ordinary girl, something he has been avoiding- his innermost fear. True love?
Miss Amy Ott is London's newest riddl...
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London, 1823
Bedfordshire, England
Amy Ott tapped her fingers against the porcelain cup in her hand and sat perfectly still. Across from her, sitting just as still, was Jane Croftman. The girl's smile didn't reach her dark brown eyes, but it was obvious she was trying to be pleasant... unlike Jane's older sister.
Catherine Croftman, a beauty with the same dark eyes and hair to match Jane's, parted her lips with a tiny laugh. "I'm sure you'll have better luck at this year's season than I had at last year's... After all, who could resist your dowry?"
Amy watched her cousin, Christa Eaton, stiffen next to her, and Amy fought the smile that wanted to bloom. To make sure no one saw the joy on her face, she brought her tea up to her mouth and pretended to drink the cool liquid. The compliment had not been a compliment at all, rather an insult to Christa's beauty. Across from Amy, she watched as Jane did the same. The two girls had twinkles in their eyes, glad that Christa had been put down—because after all, she'd started it.
Christa Eaton, the daughter of the Duke of Hensman, was rich, pretty, and the meanest person Amy had ever met. Amy hated that they were related, especially at this moment. Christa had forced Amy to accompany her on a walk to Anglebrook so that Christa could introduce her to her 'friends'. It was obvious now that Christa used the word 'friend' very loosely.
The friends she spoke of were Miss Catherine and Jane Croftman, daughters of a wealthy land gentry. They actually had more money than Christa's father, the Duke of Hensman, but to many of their privileged peers, like Christa, that did not matter. Money or not, the Croftman girls, along with their elder brother, struggled in society and Christa had made it her business to ensure that they knew it.
Which brought Amy's mind back to the matter at hand. Catherine's insult had only come after Christa had commented on Catherine's failed seasons. She'd had two so far and would be entering her third this spring.
Christa cleared her throat and looked out the window at the far end of the yellow stateroom. Anglebrook Manor was something to behold, and the girl lucky enough to marry Joseph Croftman, their brother, would gain it all—yet another reason Christa was here. "The cool weather is heavenly outside. Are your father and brother hunting this morning?" It was her way of asking if Joseph was around.
Catherine narrowed her eyes, and once again, Amy didn't blame her. It seemed hypocritical that Christa would put down the sisters of the man whom she wished to marry. "I haven't the slightest idea, Christa. However, you're more than welcome to take a stroll through our woods. If my Joseph does have a rifle in his hand, you're sure to encounter him one way or another." By a stray bullet perhaps.
