Verwandte Artikel zu A Proper Guardian (Heartsong Presents, Band 1057)

A Proper Guardian (Heartsong Presents, Band 1057) - Softcover

Scheidies, Carolyn R.

 
9780373486687: A Proper Guardian (Heartsong Presents, Band 1057)
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0373486685 ISBN 13: 9780373486687
Verlag: Love Inspired Heartsong Presents, 2013

Inhaltsangabe

Lady Winter Renton will marry only for love 

As the sole heir of her family's country estate, Lady Winter is plagued by greedy aristocrats looking for a marriage of convenience. Perfectly capable of running the estate after her father's death, she is infuriated by their scandalous proposals. She wants more than a heartless merging of property and bloodlines. Until she meets true love, Winter vows to carry on alone. 

Winter's appointed guardian, the dashing Earl of Alistair, is intrigued by his lovely young ward, and whisks her to London for a season of elegant balls and lavish soirees. As his admiration for her turns to love, Lord Alistair finds himself ensnared in rumors of political conspiracy and social scandal. Can Lady Winter trust in Lord Alistair's love, and have faith that God has a plan for the two of them—together?

Die Inhaltsangabe kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Carolyn’s published credits include over two-dozen books, hundreds of articles and a regular newspaper column. She's worked as an editor, speaker/teacher and book reviewer, leading workshops, lecturing at both UNK and Central Community College. She has been interviewed on NTV, KHAS television and AFR radio as well as in numerous print and online publications and had a monthly book review segment on NTV when she was a regular book reviewer. http://IDealinHope.com

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

1803

"Winter bowed her head over the ornamented desk. "Lord, I'm so tired and lonely. Why did You have to take father away?" With a sigh, she ran her small, crooked fingers over the elegant scrollwork of the desk. Here she felt her father's presence as nowhere else. Here she diligently worked on the estate books as her father had done for so many years. Here, at this desk beside her father, she had learned to handle estate affairs.

By the time he passed away, the tenant farmers felt comfortable approaching her with their problems, considering her both honest and fair. But the responsibility of running the entire estate by herself had taken its toll on the fragile young woman. She straightened and stretched, trying to dissipate the stiffness in her muscles from the hours of work over the heavy books.

There was no one else, no son to inherit. The rolling fertile land, the long red-stone Renton Hall, the overseeing of staff and tenants, the duty hers and hers alone. The task wearied her even as it gave her purpose.

Winter pushed back her waist-length brunette hair, unaware of the silver highlights sparkling through it. She preferred having Mrs. Duncan pull her hair to the sides, leaving the rest streaming down her back. She tried to rub her stiff shoulder, but her inflexible fingers could only assuage the stiffness slightly.

She stretched her equally stiff leg, grimaced at the flash of pain through her thigh and knee and clenched her teeth. She wondered, not for the first time, what her life might have been if the arrogant cup-shot peer driving the high-perch phaeton had managed to avoid their carriage. What if their carriage had not overturned, breaking her mother's neck and crippling her?

Shaking her head to clear away the anger, she cried out, "Lord, why? Why did You take father, as well? I know he was ill, but…"

Slowly lowering her leg, Winter smoothed the skirts of the white-sashed, deep rose muslin gown that hugged her young maturing figure. Recalling the wide full skirts her mother always wore, Winter smiled at her simple practical gowns, designed to be comfortable with a minimum of underskirts and fullness.

Since she neither subscribed to fashion magazines nor mixed in society, she had no idea her practical gown reflected the new French simplicity in fashion. She only knew her gowns fit comfortably and swished gracefully around her feet.

Again she smoothed down the skirt, liking the feel of the soft material under her palm. "Papa, you don't mind I save black for what few guests I have, do you? I know you said we should not mourn excessively, but it's…it's only been four months. Oh, Papa."

She blinked her long dark lashes over expressive deep blue eyes that dominated her oval face. Despite her grief, she held a maturity belying her small stature and delicate bone structure.

Laying down her pen, Winter rubbed her sore wrist. Even without a scold from the family butler, Richard Duncan, she knew she needed a break.

Jupiter, her iron-gray gelding, would be only too eager for a hard ride up Renton Hill. Then there was dear Mutton-head. Winter smiled. The little black puppy had been her father's last gift. Exasperated at their unsuccessful attempts to train the wriggly puppy, he called him Mutton-head and the name stuck.

Thanks to her father's prudent management, life here was good, if lonely. How she wished for someone in whom she could confide her fears and share the burden of dealing with the estate. With disgust, Winter thought of her nearest neighbors.

Hardly had her father been buried before Lord Nelson stopped in. Portly and pompous, he started by offering condolences. In the next breath he said, "Ah, my dear. With no one to inherit, you are now alone. Surely a wee thing like yourself will not be staying on."

"I…"

He gave her no time to answer as he plowed on. "As your father's dear friend."

She grimaced at this fabrication, but still he took no notice. "I am here to make an offer. Generous, of course. Will give you enough to find a chaperone and establish yourself in London."

"Lord Nelson. Lord Nelson. My lord," she yelled to get his attention, thinking he must certainly be partially deaf. "I am staying right here."

Lord Nelson stepped back in surprise. "But my dear. This is not seemly. Not seemly at all."

With a plastered-on smile she had Duncan show him the door.

His behavior showed at least a modicum of concern. Anthony's approach had been quite odd, to say the least, considering their less-then-amicable relationship. Then again, Winter admitted, Viscount Derik's behavior had never born much scrutiny.

A few days after Lord Nelson's visit, Anthony, dressed in what Winter imagined was the first style of elegance, sauntered into her parlour for all the world as though he already owned Renton Hall.

Bowing low over her hand, he held it so long she snatched it away, knowing from the chill of his palm how much he shrank from her touch. Frowning, he said, "I do not wish for you to be alone at this terrible time of grief. I don't want you to be alone now or in the future." He cleared his throat, hesitated as though considering carefully, "Winter, I am asking for your hand."

She gaped at him in astonishment. An arrogant smile touched the corners of his thin lips.

In her vulnerability, she took his proposal seriously. She glanced up at the rather hard features framed by dark curly hair, took in his lean muscular body. She could do worse. "I do not understand this. You can not possibly have feelings for me, and I have never much cared for you, Lord Derik. Mayhap with time."

Leaning back, the viscount shook his head, "My dear Winter. Time we don't have."

"I don't love you, Anthony." Winter clasped her hands. She hated being in this position.

Lord Derik tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear, making her shiver. "Winter, love has very little to do with my offer."

At her confusion, Anthony wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Winter, don't get in a taking over my words. They are, after all, only true. Your father is gone now. You are alone here, and this is for your protection."

Winter moved away from his embrace. "Anthony, I…"

Hurriedly he continued, "We've known each other forever and our estates march side by side. Combining our estates would make us one of the largest landowners between here and London. Think about it. Marry me and you spend the rest of your life in comfort. No longer would you need concern yourself with ledgers, finances and disgruntled farmers."

It almost sounded good. "I don't know." She stared into Lord Derik's eyes. There was something in his gaze that gave her pause, though she could not put a name to her fear. She got to her feet.

He seemed to sense her thoughts and frowned. "What is there to consider?" He tried to pull her down beside him again. When she moved away, he also stood and stared down on her. "Your bloodlines are impeccable, Winter. Surely you want children."

The flicker in her eyes made him press his suit. "You'll make a good mother, Winter. What more do you want?"

"I am not a brood mare up for sale, Anthony."

She could tell he kept his temper under control with difficulty. Lord Derik took her arm. "Listen, Winter. We'll get along just fine. I'll treat you well. You have my word on that. Besides, you go your way, and I'll go mine."

Winter whispered, "What of love?"

"This is the nineteenth century. We're not...

„Über diesen Titel“ kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Verlag
Love Inspired Heartsong Presents
Erscheinungsdatum
2013
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0373486685
ISBN 13 
9780373486687
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
192
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Nicht verfügbar