An Unwelcome Suitor (Entangled Inheritance Book 4) Read online

  An Unwelcome Suitor

  Ashtyn Newbold

  Copyright © 2019 by Ashtyn Newbold

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.

  Front cover design by Amanda Conley Photography

  Editing by Tori MacArthur

  www.ashtynnewbold.com

  For Hannah and Eliza

  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

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  More from the Entangled Inheritance series

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  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  It came as no surprise that when my great-aunt Augusta summoned my two sisters and me to the drawing room, she did so with the sole intention of discussing men. One particular man, in fact. A man that had been mentioned so many times within the walls of Brookhaven, that I had begun to think he was a mere legend. Aunt Augusta had been known to tell tales, after all, and she would claim that there were no better tales to tell than that of noble and handsome men, as they always made for the most diverting subject matter.

  Even if the observer was seventy-two and half blind.

  The man Aunt Augusta currently enjoyed discussing was far too young for her to possibly consider for herself.

  She was not that senile… yet.

  So that left the other three women in the room: my sisters, Juliana and Martha, and myself.

  The lace points on Aunt Augusta’s cap settled on the white curls on her forehead as she spoke, her enthusiasm causing them to rattle. “He has always greeted me with a friendly nod, and his voice is most comforting; it has a richness that I liken to a warm cup of chocolate. He is quite young and therefore not a bore to look at. His smile is most cordial, and he provides a marvelous distraction to my aches and pains through intelligent conversation.”

  I tapped my foot against the Persian rug. Intelligent conversation. Which of us sisters enjoyed such conversation most? It was a game I enjoyed playing, wondering at which of her great-nieces Aunt Augusta hoped to match with this particular man, her new physician. If Aunt Augusta would stop speaking of her physician’s ever-growing list of virtues, I might have a chance to discover the answer.

  I held my hands clasped in my lap, exerting all my energy not to bounce in tortured anticipation. She could not have been hoping to match him with Martha—at fifteen, she was too young, not even out in society. That left me and the eldest, Juliana.

  “Oh, he possesses the most stunning pair of eyes I have ever beheld,” Aunt Augusta added to her list of compliments toward the infamous man. “They shine like the moon against a dark sky. The color is of a most unique nature. At first, I was quite certain they were blue, but upon closer inspection, I have determined them to be grey.”

  Martha was the only one who appeared genuinely interested in the description. “Would you say his eyes are grey like the hilt of a sword, or closer to that of stone?”

  Aunt Augusta pondered over Martha’s question as I exchanged an amused glance with my elder sister. Juliana’s eyes danced with amusement of her own, but she quickly looked down at our cat, Apricot, in her lap before she could be seen.

  For a woman with such limited vision, Aunt Augusta missed little. She raised a sparse eyebrow at Juliana before addressing Martha’s question. “They most closely resemble a wet stone, one that has recently been rained on.”

  It was conversations like this that demanded a great deal of good humor and an even greater deal of patience. Even so, they never failed to entertain me. “How can you be certain of the color of his eyes?” I asked. “Just last week you had a basket brought in from the garden of what you claimed to be white roses, though they were clearly pink.”

  Aunt Augusta’s face tightened in indignation, her wrinkles deepening for a brief moment. She pretended to hate my teasing, but I suspected she reveled in a good verbal sparring. She swatted a hand through the air. “Oh, posh, Elizabeth. They were white. You mean only to confuse me.”

  I touched my fingers to my chest. “I am saddened to hear that you think so little of me, Aunt Augusta. I only mentioned the flowers to suggest that perhaps your perception of color is not adequate to describe your physician’s—pray, what was his name?”

  The bags beneath Aunt Augusta’s eyes gave way to the roundness of her dark, almost colorless eyes. “Dr. Pembroke.” Her tone was sharp. “Dr. Luke Pembroke.”

  Blast. I should have remembered. If I wished to remain in Aunt Augusta’s favor, then forgetting the name of her most recent darling was an unpardonable mistake. Fortunately, I did not care for her good favor at a moment like this. I did not wish to be matched with her physician any more than Juliana did.

  “Yes. Dr. Pembroke. If you perceived his eyes as grey, and the pink flowers as white, I am only led to believe that Dr. Pembroke’s eyes must be more vibrant in reality than they appear to you. Perhaps a crisp blue, or even a deep ivy green?”

  The loose skin on Aunt Augusta’s cheeks wobbled as she pursed her lips. “That is nonsense. Pure nonsense. His eyes are grey, and that is the end of it.”

  A mixture of a sniffle and a cough came from beside me—Juliana’s attempt at hiding her amusement. She knew as well as I that Aunt Augusta refused to be wrong. Juliana gave a pleasant smile in our great-aunt’s direction. “I should like to meet Dr. Pembroke.”

  Aunt Augusta turned, her pursed lips stretching to a smile. “Would you, dear?”

  “Yes, if only to settle your squabble with Eliza over the color of his eyes.”

  Aunt Augusta’s nose scrunched. “I would hope my testaments to his character would give you greater reason to meet him than that. It is my dearest wish to see you matched with him, Juliana. Eliza is far too untameable for such a calm and sophisticated man, and Martha too young to consider. Yes, he has only his physician’s wages, but with Brookhaven willed to you and your sisters, you shall want for nothing.”

  “No.” My voice and Juliana’s came in unison.

  Aunt Augusta scowled. “Why ever not?”

  It was not my place to tell the true reason, yet Juliana did not seem intent to tell it either. She simply stared at me, her blue eyes expectant.

  I sighed. “As you know, Juliana has always been rather… squeamish with the sight of blood. If she were to connect herself with a physician, she would be forced to hear tale after tale of her husband’s medical practices, many of which, I daresay, would involve blood.”

  Juliana cast me a look of gratitude for not divulging her secret.

  Aunt Augusta scoffed. “Not Dr. Pembroke. He would never have a lady endure such grotesque conversation. At any rate, a surgeon deals with much more blood than a phy
sician.”

  Juliana fanned her face. “Do stop speaking of it.”

  “Of what?”

  “Blood.” Juliana gave a forceful swallow after the word.

  I extended my hand in my sister’s direction. “See, Aunt Augusta? It will never do.”

  She huffed a breath of displeasure, deepening the wrinkles on her forehead. “Do you simply mean to secure Dr. Pembroke for yourself, Eliza? I already tried to match you with Mr. Hill and you refused the endeavor.”

  I was already shaking my head before Aunt Augusta finished speaking. “No, I assure you, that is not my design.”

  “Then what is your design?”

  Martha’s eyes had grown rounder than the biscuits on the tea table as she watched the exchange.

  I raised my chin. “I simply hope to ensure Juliana’s future happiness. I care for her happiness more than anyone.” How could Aunt Augusta fault me for an answer like that? It was entirely true. For all Juliana had done for me, for Martha… her happiness was of my utmost concern, and I meant to preserve it, whatever the cost.

  Aunt Augusta glared at me. A shard of glass flying across the room would compare well with a glare from Aunt Augusta—transparent, sharp—you did not see it coming until it had punctured you squarely in the chest.

  “You cannot claim to know better than me what is best for Juliana’s happiness.” Aunt Augusta’s voice matched her stare, cold and inarguable. “I took the three of you in when you had nothing. I have fed you, clothed you, and I have exhausted immense effort to ensure this estate will be left to you and not my incorrigible nephew.” She blinked hard, her words cracking. “The happiness of my great-nieces is my highest priority. By matching Juliana with Dr. Pembroke I do so with the sole intention of seeing her happy.” Fat tears began their escape down her cheeks, and a pang of guilt stabbed at me sharper than even her glare had. “She is six and twenty for heaven’s sake!” Her voice was garbled with sobs. “I have never seen a happy spinster, and Juliana is already quite on the shelf.”

  It was rare to see a hint of softness fall through the cracks in Aunt Augusta’s gruffness. When it did, I was nothing but a servant at her knee. I chose to ignore the masked insults thrown at Juliana about her lack of a husband. She would have a husband soon enough. My insides rose with giddiness at the mere thought of the secret she had entrusted to me.

  “Oh, Aunt Augusta.” I stood and moved to her side, sitting beside her on the sofa. I threaded my arm around her narrow shoulders, catching a tear that wobbled off her chin. “I do not doubt your love and devotion for us. I did not mean to cause offense.” I kissed her leathery cheek.

  She swatted at her tears, eyeing me with scrutiny. The expression hung there for a long moment before the wrinkles around her eyes softened. She patted my hand, letting out a long sigh. “You are quite incorrigible yourself at times, Eliza. Perhaps I might begin calling you my incorrigible niece rather than my untameable one.”

  Aunt Augusta had concocted names for many of her relations. Mr. Yeatman was the incorrigible nephew, I was the untameable niece, Juliana the admirable one, and Martha the bluestocking. Her dear Dr. Pembroke had been appointed the name of ‘The Faultless Physician.’

  My lips pulled into a smile. “Ah, but there are none so incorrigible as Mr. Yeatman.”

  “If you do not learn to hold your tongue, I may question that assessment.” For a moment Aunt Augusta’s eyes sparked with mirth. I tucked the expression away in my memory. I did not know how much longer I would be able to see it. Aunt Augusta’s health had been deteriorating for months. Her skin hung loose and her hands shook when she raised them, but those were normal signs of aging, weren’t they?

  She sighed. “Thankfully I had the foresight to ensure he will never inherit Brookhaven.”

  I gave her hand a squeeze. “I do not enjoy speaking of inheritances, Aunt Augusta. Brookhaven will not be the same lively place without you in it.”

  “Having one on the brink of death in residence does not invoke liveliness.”

  I studied the crestfallen pinch of her lips. Aunt Augusta had often jested about death, but the words lacked humor. I couldn’t bear the thought of her death being near. I did not feel prepared to manage a household, to navigate life, or to face the floral papered walls of the drawing room without Aunt Augusta seated on the very center of the sofa with a teacup in hand each time I passed the open door. Death was simply not fair. It took without permission, without mercy, and only rarely did it give the courtesy of a warning.

  Six years ago, when death took my mother and father, my sisters and I had not been given that courtesy. We had not prepared for life without them. I was fourteen years old, Juliana twenty, and Martha nine when we were sent to live with a great-aunt we did not know. Juliana had been preparing for her first season, but had stayed behind to be with Martha and me. She had protected me fiercely from grief, as potent as it was, forcing me out of my dark chambers. Juliana had pulled the drapes away from the windows and demanded that I wear a lilac gown rather than the black I had insisted on wearing forever. She had taught me that life, the fragile thing that it was, could not possibly be worth living if lived alone. She had taught me that happiness was more choice than chance, and that the love of a sister could move mountains, shatter strongholds, and command an army.

  My fondness and love for Aunt Augusta had developed slowly, as hers had for me, but with her death looming, I suddenly felt consumed by it. My heart could have crushed under the weight. I assured myself that it was possible she could live another year, perhaps two, or even ten. I cared far more for her than I did for a house. Brookhaven was little consolation for the loss of Aunt Augusta. Still, I couldn’t help but be grateful. Without Brookhaven, Martha and me would not have a place to live. Our only known relatives had moved to Spain, and to be separated from Juliana was not an option.

  Regardless, Juliana would be cared for. My chest pricked with excitement once again as I thought of what caused the twinkle of joy in her gaze.

  Aunt Augusta stood, her legs quaking, her face ruddy with the effort. “I wish to take a nap. I must ensure you are all present when Dr. Pembroke comes for his visit next week. There will be no more evading him. I wish for you all to meet him, especially Juliana.” She winked.

  I stood, taking her arm to steady her, casting Juliana a rueful glance.

  Aunt Augusta turned toward the blue settee where Juliana sat. “Oh, Juliana. I do hope you like him.”

  My sister’s eyes flitted to mine before she nodded. “I have no doubt that he is amiable.”

  Aunt Augusta clucked her tongue. “He is more than amiable. He is all that could be hoped for in a husband. He is intelligent, honest, handsome—as any husband ought to be…”

  I stopped listening, stifling my laughter. Aunt Augusta’s tongue would wag for hours with praises for her physician, yet she scoffed at the idea of praising other women. She had raised two sons, both of which had been taken too young. Her own husband had died decades before. They had become martyrs of all males in her eyes.

  Aunt Augusta’s praises continued to echo through the halls of Brookhaven as I guided her to her room, but I hardly heard them. Delight for Juliana surged in my chest, and no amount of tedious praise for the ‘faultless physician’ could distract me from it.

  With Aunt Augusta asleep for the afternoon, I could finally steal a moment to speak with my elder sister.

  Chapter 2

  “Would you like to meet him?” Juliana asked, her cheeks pink at the centers.

  I held Juliana’s arm snugly around mine as we walked through the gardens, away from the ears of the servants and Martha. Our younger sister had proven herself to be something of a canary, and we couldn’t risk a premature revelation of Juliana’s secret. “I must meet him if I am to decipher whether or not he is worthy of you.”

  Juliana laughed. “His cottage is not far.” She turned toward me. “Please, do not be alarmed by the size. I know it is small, but he is working very hard to afford some
thing larger, even though he knows I will inherit Brookhaven. A larger home will be necessary eventually, for he wants children one day.” Her lips stretched into a smile so wide her eyes nearly disappeared.

  I gasped. “Is there an agreement between the two of you yet?”

  “No, but I am sure there will be soon.” She pulled my arm close as we walked. “Oh, Eliza. Gilbert is truly the perfect man for me. He does not look harshly on my strong opinions, nor my quiet disposition. He accepts me precisely the way I am.” Her features seemed to glow with awe. “Is that not what any woman should desire in a husband?”

  The afternoon sun brought out auburn tones in her brown curls, and I was glad Aunt Augusta was asleep, or else Juliana would receive a scolding for her lack of a bonnet. I was tempted to remove my headpiece and enjoy the warmth on my own face, but it took only minutes for the sun to bring out the ribbon of freckles on my cheekbones and nose, and despite her impaired vision, Aunt Augusta was sure to notice. Even on days when the sun was shielded by clouds, I still could not risk wandering far without a head covering. If rain touched my ash brown hair, it would erupt in untameable fluff. My maid did not deserve the displeasure of combing through it.

  Juliana sighed. “I do not even care that he is poor. He is the kindest man of my acquaintance, and he makes me laugh and smile more than anyone. I would rather have a life full of love and laughter than any measure of finery and prestige. He is so thoughtful. He knows how much I love butterflies. Just last week, he took me out to the woods where he showed me the exquisite butterfly he had carved into a tree.”