Fool for Love (Montana Romance) Read online

  Praise for Merry Farmer….

  The Loyal Heart

  This is a really entertaining book with love, lust, action, intrigue, humour, stress, happiness and sadness and is well worth taking the time out of your day to read.

  -Lindsay and Jane’s Views and Reviews

  The Faithful Heart

  There is enough adventure, romance, and moments of genuine heartbreak here to keep readers glued to their e-readers for the duration.

  -InD’Tale Magazine

  The Courageous Heart

  The action and intrigue begin in the first chapter and continue to the very end. … Readers will root for these star-crossed lovers

  -InD’Tale Magazine

  Our Little Secrets

  [Keeps] the reader believing and turning pages at a rapid rate! … Ultimately making this a totally unique and refreshing bit of fun!

  -InD’Tale Magazine

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright ©2013 by Merry Farmer

  Smashwords Edition

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design by Pehr Graphic Design

  www.facebook.com/pehrdesign

  [email protected]

  Cover image of couple © Konradbak | Dreamstime.com

  Cover image of cows in field © Natalia Bratslavsky | Dreamstime.com

  Fool for Love

  By Merry Farmer

  Acknowledgements

  I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Kristine Medley Farmer, Angela Quarles, and Samantha Warren for helping me bring this novel along and make it into everything it has become. Their help, opinions, and nagging mean everything to me.

  Special thanks also to Constance Philips, Felicity Young, and Cheryl Kidron for putting up with me, listening to me, and helping me out where they could. It isn’t possible to do this whole novel-writing thing without the help and support of friends like you guys!

  For my wonderful editor and friend, Alison Dasho

  You taught me everything I know about writing well.

  I’ll miss working with you!

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter One

  London, 1896

  The ballroom of Mr. Reginald Hamilton’s townhouse was awash in bright, swirling colors. The lamps were all lit, bathing the room in a warm, sparkling glow. Musicians played a lively waltz. The scents of candles, perfume, and bodies was rich as half of London society danced their cares away. But above it all, the room buzzed with the sound of lords and ladies spreading the latest gossip.

  Amelia Elphick wedged her way through it all, heart pounding terror in her throat, one hand clutching the not-so subtle curve of her stomach. Her simple cotton skirt and blouse marked her as an interloper amongst the finery, even as she struggled to keep her head high.

  “Who is that?” she caught one of the ladies murmuring.

  “Dear Lord, that’s the Marquess of Horsham’s daughter!” a second woman gasped.

  Amelia blanched, pushing on through the crush. It was too late to turn back.

  “Look at the state of her!” the first woman said.

  “I heard she’s the governess here now,” the second woman informed her with a haughty sniff.

  “That’s not what I meant,” the first replied. “Look at the state of her.”

  Amelia dropped her trembling hand from her belly. She was well aware that she was past the point where her sins could go unnoticed, but this was her last chance. Nick was at this ball.

  She spotted him several yards away, deep in conversation with her employer, Mr. Hamilton. Nicholas Hayworth stood tall and handsome, the aristocratic lines of his face sharp in the lamplight. The rich blue of his eyes and black of his hair drew the attention of every woman in the room. She knew his face so well, knew every contour of his nimble body. Even now, with shame threatening like a thundercloud, she wanted to embrace that body, to melt into him and have him tell her everything would be all right.

  A different body, as tall as Nick’s but broader and more muscular, bumped into Amelia as she surged toward Nick. The man knocked her off balance, sending her spilling over her feet and his. She flailed for balance and hit a glass out of one of the fine guest’s hands. The man caught her, but the sound of shattering glass and a lady shrieking broke through the hum of gossip. All eyes snapped to her.

  “Watch it there, Miss Amelia.”

  Amelia raised wary eyes to the man who had both tripped and caught her. Her heart sank. Of all the Hamilton’s guests, she had bumbled into Mr. Quinlan, the American that had been staying in the house for the last few months. He smiled at her with his artless brown eyes and boyish grin and set her back on her feet. The hush that had followed her spill burst into a full roar of whispers.

  “You all right?” Mr. Quinlan asked again as he brushed imaginary dirty off of her skirt.

  All Amelia could manage was a tight nod. “I’m fine, thank you.”

  It was a lie. She swallowed and turned, wincing, to Nick. He had seen her stumble. Everyone had seen her stumble. Nick sneered at her, his head tilted with aloof grace. She had to do this now, before it was too late. All eyes bored into her as she rushed through the gap that had formed in the crowd.

  “Nick,” she kept her voice low as she reached him, “Nick I must speak with you. It is a matter of utmost urgency.”

  She reached out to him. Nick backed away. His glance darted through the crowd that now judged him as much as her.

  “I have nothing to say to you, Miss Elphick,” he hissed.

  “Please, Nick!” The threat of tears pinched Amelia’s voice. “You know … you know what it’s come to.” She smoothed her hand over the bump of her belly.

  Nick sniffed and backed further away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  To his side, Reginald Hamilton’s back stiffened. His eyes went round with shock and disgust. “Miss Elphick!” he exclaimed in a whisper. “What is the meaning of this?”

  A flash of boldness stiffened Amelia’s back and her resolve. “Ask Mr. Hayworth,” she said. “It is his doing.”

  Nick blanched, shrinking from the eavesdropping guests. “How dare you!”

  “No, Nick, how dare you!” Her attempt at bravado withered as the horror of the situation spilled over her. “I have your child growing inside of me and you know it. You have known it all along, yet you turn your back on me?”

>   “Miss Elphick,” Mr. Hamilton was red with rage, “Have I have entrusted the care of my precious little girls to a harlot?”

  Before Amelia could summon a defense, Nick muttered, “Like mother, like daughter.”

  The pitch of whispered gossip around her spun with such fevered intensity that Amelia thought she might swoon. Ripples of shock spread through the room as London’s finest stood on tip-toes to see the tragic farce unfold.

  Amelia met Nick’s eyes with what was left of her pride, tears running two hot trails down her cheeks. “I loved you. We were to be married … before.”

  “Yes, well that clearly isn’t the case now.” The smirk that bit at Nick’s beautiful face was too much to bear. Every promise he had made shattered.

  “My family is not what it once was.” Amelia made one last attempt to stave off ruin, sniffling and wiping her eyes. “But you and I have been friends for too long to break over such things. I thought … I thought you still cared for me.”

  “I care for certain parts of you.” Nick’s gaze flickered down.

  “Mr. Hayworth,” Mr. Hamilton warned, “my house has seen enough scandal for one night. Pray do not make it double.”

  “Forgive me, sir.” Nick bowed low to his host. “It was not my wish to disrupt your magnificent gathering. That, I believe, was the lady’s intent.” His stare pierced Amelia with such malevolence that her heart withered.

  “I have no wish to make our private emergencies public,” Amelia countered.

  “Our emergencies?” Nick balked. “I think not.”

  Amelia’s chest constricted in panic. “You must help me, Nick,” she implored in barely more than a whisper. “You must-”

  “There is nothing I must do,” he clipped his reply. “You have ruined yourself, now face the consequences.”

  Amelia gulped, tears stinging. A sob caught in her throat as the weight of her sins piled down on her. She stole a desperate glance around the room. Men and women who had smiled and welcomed her at her coming-out just three short years ago now turned up her noses at her as if she was diseased. It was all because she couldn’t control her instincts. Her cheeks burned scarlet in humiliation.

  With one last deep breath she laid her life at Nick’s feet.

  “So you have no intention of fulfilling your responsibility toward….” She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t even think that Nick’s child was inside of her. “After all we-”

  “Enough, Miss Elphick!” Mr. Hamilton snapped. “Go to your room! We will discuss this in the morning.”

  Amelia gasped, blinking rapidly. She had heard that tone of voice, seen the same sharp glower from Mr. Hamilton when one of his daughters had disobeyed. She took another step back, lowering her head. It was no use resisting. Her great gamble had been a failure. Her life was over.

  She turned to flee, but where she had hoped to find a quick escape, she was met by a wall of faces. Women and men of refinement and breeding, their jewels as bright as the scorn in their eyes, stared at her as though she was a guttersnipe loose amongst her betters. The turned-up lips, the pointed glares at the bulge of her stomach, the whispering behind hands and fans, flayed Amelia like a scourge.

  It took all of her effort to put one foot in front of the other. Her whole body shook as she walked through the crowded ballroom, the last vestige of what her life had been. The musicians had stopped playing, the dancers had stopped dancing. Her heart had stopped beating. She couldn’t lift her head or raise her eyes to meet any of them. With all the awkward humiliation of her fall, she shuffled toward the door.

  “Of course you’d expect that from Sophia deLaurent’s daughter,” someone murmured to her left.

  “She always did give herself airs,” another voice chased her, “but ones true nature always shows through the gloss, doesn’t it.”

  “Such a pity,” a male voice chuckled to her right. “I wonder how much she’ll charge once she’s taken her place on the market.”

  Amelia burst into a sob, clapping a hand to her mouth. It was over. She didn’t care who she crashed into or whose toes she stepped on as she fled the room at a run.

  She passed Mr. Quinlan, who was red with fury, at the door. His fury was no more than she deserved. She was furious with herself for the folly that had cast her out of the life she’d tried to resurrect for herself. But there was no hiding from the truth of who one really was at heart.

  Chapter Two

  In the faint light of morning, a chill rain beat against Amelia’s roof. She paced by the window of her cold attic room, the letter that had come at dawn clutched in her hand. She hadn’t slept a wink all night. The horrible scene in the ballroom had played over and over in her mind, each of its players looming larger in her imagination. She’d cried herself out while packing her meager belongings in the dark, knowing what the morning would bring. When the lowest footman in the house knocked on her door to hand her the letter at first light, her tears had started anew.

  She paced from the window to the burnt-out fireplace, the letter in one hand and her sodden handkerchief in the other. It had been raining her whole life. She should be used to it, willing to accept her fate by now.

  She stared at the impossible paper in her hand, every blurred word already memorized. She read it again, hoping this time it would say something different.

  Miss Elphick,

  I am well aware of the understanding that previously existed between our families, but as I have informed you many times already, in light of the gross reversal of fortune that your family has undergone, I feel no compunction to maintain this understanding. That you persisted in your attachment to the point of seduction is not my fault, nor is the state that you now find yourself in because of said seduction.

  Your gross misconduct of last night – at a public function hosted by a family willing to hire you in spite of your father’s scandal, no less – casts far more aspersions on your character than mine. I would have been content to keep you and your forthcoming child in an alternative arrangement more suitable to your current station in life had you not attempted to call me out in front of society.

  Frankly, Miss Elphick, I would have thought it was obvious that a gentleman of my standing could never attach himself to a lowly governess, with or without the other matter. Your bold and wicked behavior has put my reputation and that of your kind employer in jeopardy. It’s about time you learn that women of your ilk must keep their mouths shut until you are paid to open them. You are only good for one thing, and the sooner you learn that the more prosperous you will be in what will surely become your future profession.

  The pain of Nick’s dismissal rose from Amelia’s heart into her throat. He had even been so callous as to sign the letter “Mr. Hayworth” instead of Nick. No humiliation had cut so deep, and since her father’s demise that was saying something.

  She set the letter on the thin mantel over the fireplace. It should have been tossed into the fire with the rest of her hopes and dreams, but she couldn’t do it. Not yet. She was as much at odd angles and uncomfortable planes as the slopes of her ceiling. Instead she moved to fetch another handkerchief from the top of her faded bureau. With noisy carelessness she blew her nose.

  There was a knock at the door. She jumped, dropping her handkerchief.

  “Who is it?”

  “’s me, Miss Amelia,” the voice of Betsy, the scullery maid, came through the door. “I been sent to fetch you.”

  Amelia swallowed and squeezed her eyes shut. So much for dignity. They’d sent the lowest servant in the house to get her. There was no escaping the worst of it now.

  “Just a minute.” She hurried to pick up her handkerchief and stuff it in her pocket. With a last heavy sigh she snatched Nick’s letter from the mantle and threw it into the fire. Her life was well and truly over now.

  Betsy was leaning against the doorframe when Amelia opened the door. She snapped to attention, watching with wide, silent eyes as Amelia did her best to keep her back straight. She marched into
the hall, carpetbag in hand.

  “He’s in the drawing room,” Betsy whispered in awe. The drawing room was only opened on special occasions, joyous or somber.

  Amelia sucked in a deep breath and forced herself onward. As horrid as he had been in his letter, Nick was right about one thing. After all Mr. Hamilton’s kindness, she had damaged his reputation. She had repaid the help he hadn’t needed to give her two years ago by causing a scene in his house when important guests were present: the Kennisons from Buckingham and the McAllastairs from Glasgow. And Mr. Quinlan, of course. What must he think of her?

  “Miss Amelia! Miss Amelia!”

  The Hamilton girls jumped up from their spot at the top of the grand staircase leading into the main hall as she rounded the final corner. They rushed to her, eyes filled with awe and fear. Amelia dropped her carpetbag, crouching to hug them both at once as they crushed against her.

  “Darlings!” she choked.

  “Where are you going?” six-year-old Elizabeth asked, her lower lip quivering.

  “Mama says you are dismissed and we are not to speak to you,” eight-year-old Felicity added, “but we snuck out of the nursery to find you.”

  “Your mama is right, dear ones,” Amelia told them.

  She swallowed a sob. She would miss them too much. With a kiss on each of their foreheads she forced herself to stand and step away from them.

  “We won’t let you go!” Felicity declared, throwing her arms around Amelia’s waist.

  Amelia’s heart caught in her throat as her dear young charge squeezed the growing mound of her stomach, the very reason she was being sent on her way. Heart breaking, she pried the girl’s arms away.