Believe in Me

Book 6: Worthingtons

by Ella Quinn

Genres: Historical Romance; Regency Romance; Romantic Comedy

Synopsis

The bestselling Regency romance series continues as a dashing man of the world hopes to settle down with a lady with who'd rather travel.



Marriage has worked out quite nicely for her older sisters, yet Lady Augusta Vivers is certain it would end her studies in languages and geography—and stop her from travelling. But when her mother thwarts her plan to attend the only university in Europe that accepts women—in Italy—she is forced to agree to one London Season. Spending her time at parties proves an empty diversion—until she encounters the well-traveled Lord Phineas Carter-Wood.



Phineas has studied architecture all over the world, yet Augusta is his most intriguing discovery yet. How can he resist a woman who loves maps and far-off lands? But her longing for all things foreign hinders any hope of courtship. When he learns her cousins have offered a trip to Europe, he secretly arranges to join their party. For he is determined to show Augusta that a real union is a thrilling adventure of its own. And when their journey is beset by dangerous obstacles, he gets far more opportunity than he bargained for . . .



Contains mature themes.

Release date: February 26, 2019

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 385

Sample

“Italy!” Her brother’s bellow could probably be heard all over the town house and in Berkeley Square. Possibly even farther.

From her position on the sofa, Lady Augusta Vivers stifled a sigh. She refused to allow her posture to sag or disappointment to show on her countenance. She had known her campaign to be allowed to attend university was not going to be easy. Perhaps she should have started her scheme earlier. Or given her brother a hint to temper his shock.

“It is not as if Padua is some unknown place in South America or Africa,” she pointed out calmly.

“Where on earth did you come up with such an . . . idea?” Her mother paled a bit and her faint voice pierced the deadened air.

“I wish to further my studies.” Augusta fought to keep the exasperation from her tone. Why else would she want to go to university? Not only that, but traveling there and living in Italy for a time would allow her to see a little of the world she had been studying. “As educated as Miss Tallerton and Mr. Winters are, they long ago exhausted the limits of what they can teach me. Which is the reason I have been corresponding with professors in Europe and taking lessons from visiting scholars, hoping to learn more. It is no longer enough.” In fact, her thirst for knowledge had grown to the point that she needed to attend university as much as she needed food or air. “Yet it has become clear that the only way I am going to succeed is by studying with experts. For that, I must attend university.”

“But, my dear”—her mother paused for a moment as if to gather her thoughts—“do you not wish to wed?”

Of course she did. Just. Not. Now. “I do not recall anyone asking Charlie if he was forsaking marriage simply because he wished to attend Oxford.” She wished Grace’s brother, properly called the Earl of Stanwood was here. He’d be able to help. Augusta turned her gaze back to Matt. As her guardian and Earl of Worthington, he was the final decision maker. “If I were a boy you would allow me to go.”

“You’re fair and far off there, my girl.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I might consider Paris, but Italy is too far away. If anything were to happen”—this time he wiped his hand down his face—“we would not be able to get to you in time. I doubt if there is even an English consul or vice-consul there.”

She was glad she’d prepared for this point of contest. “The closest consul is in Venice. Only about twenty-two miles to the east.”

“Augusta.” Grace’s gentle voice was a sharp contrast to Matt’s exasperated tone. “Is there not a university that will accept women closer than Italy?”

Augusta shifted on the sofa so that she faced her sister-in-law, next to her, and smiled. “There was one in Holland, but it was reduced to a school, like Eton, and is just now attempting to regain its status as a university.” Trying to ignore the worried look in Mama’s eyes, and the tick in Matt’s jaw, Augusta focused on Grace, who appeared to be the only helpful person present. She might also be able to persuade Matt. “Padua is also the only university that has an excellent reputation and will award a degree to a female.”

Her sister-in-law nodded. “I see.”

“My dear.” The corners of Mama’s lips tipped up weakly. “You did not answer the question about marriage.”

“I see no reason to rush into matrimony. Grace did not wed until she was four and twenty.” After thinking she could never marry because she had guardianship of her brothers and sisters. Everyone agreed that Matt convincing her he could be trusted with guardianship had been the best thing for all her sisters and brothers and sisters by marriage.

As there was nothing to be said to that, silence fell again. The only comforting thought was that Matt had not actually said no.

The room was so quiet she could hear the birds chirping outside, and the thumps of children running a floor above. The muffled sound of someone coming down the corridor had them all turning their heads.

A knock came, and Walter Carpenter, age seventeen, another of Grace’s brothers and Augusta’s best friend, poked his head in the study and glanced at them all. “Not a good time? I’ll just take myself away.”

“Wait right there.” Matt’s commanding voice stopped Walter’s retreat. “What do you know about Augusta’s plans to attend university?”

“I . . . er . . .” Walter slid her a quick sidelong glance. “Only that she’s been planning it for several months.” One of Matt’s brows rose. “It’s not as if she’s doing anything untoward. Don’t we all support ladies being educated?”

Augusta flashed Walter a grateful smile. Her mother groaned, Grace’s lips twitched, and Matt slapped his palm against his head.

Mama’s husband, Richard, Viscount Wolverton, who had been lounging against the fireplace, straightened. “When does the term begin?”

“Not until September.” Did his question mean he might support Augusta’s desire to go to Padua? “I brought it up now because I have done all I can do without final permission, and there is the month it will take to travel to Padua.”

“September,” Mama chirped brightly, a relieved look on her face.

Oh, no. Augusta was not going to allow them to end the conversation. “My other point in mentioning it now is to save you from the expense of a Season for me.” Of all the girls in the family, Augusta was sure she was the only one who did not care if she formally came out. “If I am going to attend university, there is no need for me to be on the Marriage Mart.”

“I think it’s too late for that,” Matt grumbled.

Augusta barely kept her jaw from dropping.

“What he means”—Grace held out her hands to Augusta, taking her fingers in a reassuring grip—“is that most of your gowns have already been ordered. Aside from that, if Matt and your mother agree that you should attend university, you will benefit from having been out.”

“Yes, indeed, my dear,” Mama said quickly. Augusta had the feeling her mother was praying she would decide to marry and forget about continuing her studies. “Grace is absolutely correct. Acquiring a bit of Town bronze is essential for one’s . . . one’s development.”

Augusta scanned the other faces in the room. None of them looked happy. If she refused, they would not take it well. There was no reason she could not continue with her plans and arguments for university while she was attending social events. “Very well. I agree to a Season.” Augusta speared her brother Matt with a narrow-eyed look. “That does not mean I have given up my intention to attend university.”

His lips thinned as he nodded. “We will continue the discussion later.”

“You should know”—she took a breath—“I have contacted Cousin Prudence Brunning and asked if she would be willing to be my chaperone.”

Matt’s dark brows drew together. “Who?”

“You would not remember her,” Mama said with an airy flutter of her hand. “She is the daughter of Martha Vivers, who married George Paine, a rector. Prudence is a year or so younger than you and a widow. Her husband was in the Life Guards and died at Waterloo.”

“Indeed.” Augusta was glad her mother remembered Cousin Prudence. “When he was in Spain and Portugal she traveled with him. Therefore she is used to foreign places.” By this time Matt was staring at Augusta as if she had grown another head. “She also speaks Italian, Portuguese, and Spanish.”

“Naturally, why else would you contact her?” He closed his eyes for a moment as if in pain. “You’ve given me a great deal to think about.”

Augusta squeezed Grace’s hand and rose. “Thank you for listening to me.”

A series of nods and tight smiles answered her. When she reached the corridor, Walter had been joined by her twin sisters by marriage, Alice and Eleanor Carpenter, age fifteen, and Augusta’s birth sister, Madeline Vivers, also fifteen.

Alice put a finger to her lips as Eleanor grabbed Augusta’s hand.

“Come,” Madeline whispered. “We can hear them talk from the antechamber in the other room.”

They hurried her into a seldom-used parlor and opened a door to what reminded Augusta more of a butler’s pantry. Except instead of dishware and silver, the shelves were filled with ledgers, paper, pens, and bottles of ink. How had she not known this was here?

“You must be very quiet,” one of the twins said softly.

“Matt, you cannot possibly be considering allowing her to travel to Italy!” Mama’s voice came clearly through the door. “It would have been kinder of you to have told her no.”

There was a clink of crystal and a few moments of silence, before Matt responded, “In my opinion, she deserves the opportunity to follow her desire for more education.”

“Yes, but not in Italy.” Mama sounded almost frantic.

“Patience, calm yourself,” Richard said. “If Worthington allows her to go, you know as well as I do that he’ll ensure she is well protected.”

“Matt,” Mama said again. “Do you not remember what happened to Caro Huntley?”

“Who is Caro Huntley?” Madeline whispered. Augusta and the others shrugged.

“Who is Caro Huntley?” Richard asked.

“The former Lady Caroline Martindale, a friend of mine,” Grace responded. “She was living in Venice with her godmother when a Venetian nobleman decided she should marry him. Huntley wed her to save her from him.”

“I am sure she thought she was safe,” Mama pointed out.

Augusta wanted to groan. Leave it to her mother to remember a story like that. Well, she would make good and sure she was not trapped into marriage. At least not before she had her diploma.

“Come, my love,” Richard said. “Let’s leave poor Worthington to try to figure this out. Let me know if you need any help.”

“Thank you. I will,” Matt said.

The door to Grace’s study closed. Without warning the door to the antechamber flew open, and the twins tumbled into the room. Augusta would have fallen as well if Madeline hadn’t been in the way and stopped her descent.

Matt eyed them as the girls picked themselves up from the floor. “I trust you heard everything, or is there any part of the conversation you would like to have repeated?”

“I’d like to hear more about Caro Huntley,” Alice said.

“Not now, sweetheart.” Grace’s eyes sparkled with laughter. “Augusta, we will continue to look at ways for you to continue your studies.” Her sister-in-law rose. “Come. It will be time for tea shortly, and Charlie should be here soon.”

“Matt?” Madeline asked. “How did you know we were listening?”

“You’re not as quiet as you think.” He lightly tugged one of her braids. “Go on. I’ll see you in the morning room.”

For the second time that day, Augusta left the study. “I suppose it could have been worse.”

Walter fell into step beside her. “He could have refused to listen.”

“My mother is going to be a problem. She will probably throw every gentleman she finds into my path.”

“Not everyone.” Walter grinned. “They have to be eligible.”

“There will still be too many of them.” Why couldn’t her mother simply accept that she wanted more from life? “At least I’ll be prepared.”

At a warehouse near the London docks, Lord Phineas Carter-Woods surveyed the numerous boxes he’d brought back with him from Mexico. “The ones marked in red will go to Elsworth.” That was the bulk of them. At some point he’d have to visit the estate he had been bequeathed. “Have the rest sent to my brother’s house in Grosvenor Square, and make sure they aren’t put in the attic.”

“Yes, my lord.” Boman, Phinn’s secretary, part-time amanuensis, general factotum, and friend, signaled to one of two carters waiting for instructions. “Have you decided when we’re leaving again?”

That was going to be tricky. “I hope to be on our way to Europe in a month, but I’ve promised my brother I’ll look around for a wife. We’ll take it as it comes, shall we?”

“What you mean to say”—Boman gave Phinn a stern look—“is that you haven’t told his lordship that you’re not staying in England.”

“Let’s just say that I have not had time to divulge all my plans.” Boman was right. Phinn would have to tell his brother, the Marquis of Dorchester, about his intent to leave England again. If only Dorchester and his wife could’ve managed to have a son or two instead of four daughters, they wouldn’t be trying to make Phinn marry. Although, whatever gave them the idea he could do better, he didn’t know.

“He isn’t going to be happy.”

That was putting it mildly. Phinn had decided not to tell his brother he was leaving again until just before he departed. “I’ll stay for the Season. Once he perceives that I have not found a suitable wife, he’ll be glad to see me go again.”

“What happens if some young lady catches your eye?”

Good Lord! Boman too? “Why is everyone suddenly trying to put a leg-shackle on me?”

“I’m just saying it could happen.” He shrugged. “You almost got caught by that señorita in Mexico City.”

“Not because I wanted her.” Phinn ran his finger under his cravat. “For that escape, I can only thank your sharp eyes.” If Boman hadn’t seen the lady slip something into Phinn’s drink, he might have been asleep instead of hiding on the window ledge when she’d sneaked into his room. Thank God English ladies were not so devious. “The less said about that, the better.” The last trunk was loaded onto the coach. “We must go to Dorchester House and settle in.” Phinn would rather have remained at the hotel, but his brother was insistent he live with him. “There will be no time tomorrow. My brother has made an appointment with me to see Weston, his tailor.” He looked at his worn leather breeches with chagrin. “Apparently, I do not have sufficient clothing to pass myself off as an eligible parti.”

Phinn climbed into the coach followed by Boman, who settled on the backward-facing seat and said, “Have you decided to hire a proper valet?”

The carriage rolled through the narrow streets. “I don’t like the idea of hiring a man, then letting him go in a month or two.”

“We can take him with us. Europe isn’t the Far East or Mexico. You’ll need someone who knows how to take care of your kit.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Glancing out the window, Phinn marveled at how societies never changed much. There were always the poor living in squalor and the rich who didn’t seem to care. “You were able to assist before, but you’ll be too busy preparing for the next trip.”

“You keep saying that.” Boman’s tone was as dry as parts of Mexico. “And we haven’t even set foot in your brother’s house yet.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t love his brother, but Phinn would have been happy to have visited for a week and left again. Not that it would have been possible. He had a paper to deliver at the Royal Institution, letters to write, travel documents to acquire, and a host of other details to which to attend. Unfortunately, other than the paper, he’d have to leave most of it to Boman while Phinn danced, literally, to his sister-in-law’s tune, and his family’s scheme to get him married.

“Do you have the charms?” He didn’t know if they’d work. It might all be a hum. After four daughters, his brother was becoming desperate to secure the succession, and as Dorchester’s eye had turned to Phinn, he needed all the help he could get. It was probably ridiculous of him to trust a Haitian witch’s magic, but anything was worth a try.

Augusta, her elder sister Louisa, the Duchess of Rothwell, her step-sister, Charlotte, the Marchioness of Kenilworth, and their mutual friend and cousin, Dotty, the Marchioness of Merton left the modiste’s shop where Augusta had had fittings on gowns that had been designed purely on her measurements. What followed could only be described as an extravagant indulgence of shopping that lasted most of the day before they retired to Charlotte’s town house. They had just been served tea and sustenance consisting of biscuits, bread, cheese, and plum tarts.

“I must not have been paying any attention at all when you three came out.” Augusta reached out and stroked Collette, her sister’s Chartreux cat.

“You were still in the schoolroom,” Dotty pointed out.

“With a nose in a book.” Louisa unobtrusively gave Abby, Charlotte’s Great Dane, a piece of cheese.

Charlotte swallowed her sip of tea. “I understand that you have no intention of marrying this Season, but I would not tell that to any of the gentlemen you meet.”

“Why not?” Augusta did not like prevarication. If she made the impression her sisters and Dotty had, it would be dishonest to lead a gentleman on. “I would not wish to give anyone false hope.”

“You also do not want to become a challenge.” Charlotte’s dry tone caused Louisa to hold her napkin to her lips while her shoulders shook.

What was so funny? “I don’t understand.”

“Men, as a rule,” Dotty said, “find anything unattainable to be particularly enticing.”

That was not something Augusta wanted to hear or had even considered. Yet, now that she thought about it, Bentley had hung around Louisa for her entire Season, even after everyone and his dog knew she would not marry him. And Harrington had done the same thing with Charlotte. Although, she had gone back and forth about him until she’d met Kenilworth. Still, they’d both managed to wed other men. “What did you do?”

“When I was trying to discourage gentlemen,” Louisa said, “Grace told me to be kind but to not show them any partiality.”

“Unfortunately”—Charlotte grimaced—“that doesn’t always work.”

“Never be caught alone with a gentleman.” Dotty’s tone was serious, but her eyes twinkled. “It ended well in my case and Charlotte’s, but not if you wish to avoid marriage this Season.”

“I must arrange to never be alone at entertainments.” Perhaps Augusta could make friends with other ladies she’d meet at Lady Bellamny’s party. “I’ll also not attempt to save a gentleman from someone else’s trap or get kidnapped.”

“That should do it,” Louisa said, as Dotty and Charlotte laughed. “You can always call upon us and our husbands.”

Kind, but noncommittal. How hard could that be? From what she had seen at the country assemblies, most men would rather talk about themselves. She would simply let them.

Phinn arrived at his brother’s house as the boxes he’d sent were delivered. Based upon the other times he’d visited, he assumed he’d be put in the green room in the front of the house. Fortunately, there was a small, little-used chamber next to it.

“Saddock,” Phinn said as the butler, who had served his father and now served his brother, bowed. “Be a good fellow and have the boxes put in the room next to mine.”

“Very good, my lord. You will find his lordship and her ladyship in the morning room about to partake of tea.”

“Excellent, I’m feeling a bit peckish.” He strode to the back of the house before Saddock could mention announcing him.

As he neared the morning room, Phinn heard his brother and sister-in-law, Helen, mention his name. He approached more slowly, silencing his steps.

“Have you made a list of eligible ladies yet?” His brother’s tone had an underlying layer of mirth he didn’t appreciate.

A moment or two passed before Helen responded. He could almost feel her narrowing her eyes at Dorchester. “Not yet. Lady Bellamny’s party for young ladies is this evening. I shall leave you and Phineas to become reacquainted while I am at the entertainment.”

“I am not sure a young lady is . . . Oh, how should I put this—adequate for the position.”

“I should think any lady who will put up with a gentleman who might decide to run off and sail to who-knows-where would be appropriate.” Her tone was tart and unquestionably cutting.

“He did promise that if he found a lady to marry, he would stop traveling.” That’s it, Chess, stick up for your brother.

“He said the same thing before he hied off to Mexico and wherever else he traveled.” No improvement in her tone at all.

“Helen, that is not being fair. You know as well as I do that my father sent him to Mexico.”

“He could be like a normal gentleman and remain in Britain.”

Behind him, heavy steps sounded, and a clock chimed the hour. Phinn rapped on the open door and stepped in. “Greetings, I come bearing gifts.” He glanced around as if unaware that only his brother and Helen were in the room. “Where are my nieces?”

As if acid hadn’t been dripping from her lips, Helen hurried toward him. “Phineas, I am so glad to see you again.” She glanced at the package wrapped in oilcloth. “Would you like to take a seat on the sofa, and place your bundle on the table?”

“Excellent suggestion.” He bowed before bussing her proffered cheek.

The butler entered, followed by a footman carrying the tea tray.

“You are just in time.” She sank onto a smaller sofa opposite him and began to pour. “The girls will be down in a minute.”

As if on cue, high-pitched voices could be heard in the corridor. His four nieces entered, followed by their nurse.

“Uncle Phinn, is it really you?” Emma, the eldest at seven, stood in front of him. She would be the only one who remembered him. Cicely had been only three when he’d departed.

“It is.” He hugged her as she flung her arms around his neck. “Come now, allow me to say good day to Cicely.” The little girl with blond hair and big blue eyes, like her mother, approached him carefully. He bent over and held out his arms. She allowed him to pick her up, and soon Anne, age four, and Rosanna, age two, were on the sofa with him. “Emma, would you be good enough to open the package on the table? I believe you will find dolls for each of you. They were made in Mexico.” He glanced at his brother and Helen. “I brought cocoa for you.”

“How very kind.” Helen smiled tightly as Emma handed her a locked silver casket before giving her sisters the cloth dolls wearing brightly colored gowns.

“Uncle Phinn.” Cicely tugged on his arm. “Why do the dolls all have black hair?”

“Because that is the most common hair color in Mexico.”

“Do they really wear these clothes?” Emma held up her doll and inspected the muslin shirt, embroidered vest, and colorful red skirt. “They are very different from ours.”

“These are Aztec Indian ladies.” Or rather what the Europeans wished the Aztecs would wear. Helen would have barred the dolls from the house if they’d come draped in the single cloth the Indians were partial to. “The Spanish ladies wear clothing such as yours.”

“I wear this.” Anne held the doll up to her nurse. “Make it, please.”

“I’ll see what I can do, my lady. Now”—Nurse gathered the girls with a gesture—“it is time we returned to the nursery to put your presents away before we go for our walk.”

“I would really like them to stay.” Desperate was more like it. “I want to get to know them better.”

Helen glanced at him as if she knew what he was trying to do. “Now that you are home again, you will have plenty of time to come to know your nieces.” She nodded to the nurse, who had stopped. “You may go.” Shortly after the girls left, she rose. “I shall leave the two of you alone.”

Phinn and his brother both stood until she left, then resumed their seats.

Perdition! He had to tell Dorchester that he was leaving again, but how to do it? Particularly after Helen had reminded him that Phinn never stayed home. It wasn’t that he’d lied, he just had never promised.

“Well”—his brother went to a side table and poured two glasses of wine—“I suppose we should discuss your search for a wife.”

“Do you have anyone in mind?” Not that Phinn thought his brother would try to play matchmaker. He took the glass, taking a grateful sip of claret. His sister-in-law was a different matter entirely.

“No. No.” Dorchester gazed at the goblet as he twirled it. “I believe Helen is going to a soirée where she might form some ideas.” He looked at Phinn. “I don’t suppose you have any thoughts.”

“None at all.” How could he? He’d only been back just over a day. The conversation dropped. If only he could find a way to tell his brother he really did not wish to marry yet. “I will not wed a lady for whom I do not have a strong affection.” That should limit his choices—to precisely naught.

“No,” his brother agreed quickly. “I would not wish you to feel as if you were sacrificing yourself.”

Which, of course, was exactly what Phinn was doing. “I would like to set a time limit on this search for a wife.” In any event, he had to have a firm date to depart the country. “I anticipate I will have met all the eligible ladies in a matter of a month, six weeks at the most. Unless, that is, some lady arrives in the middle of the Season.” He took another sip of wine. After this conversation, he’d have his secretary bring him a bottle of brandy. “If I do not find a female who attaches my affections”—good God, I sound like an idiot—“I would like to take a short trip to Europe. I promise I will return by autumn to try again.”

Dorchester drained half his glass of wine before staring at Phinn for several moments. Finally his brother sighed. “I know you don’t want to wed. And I know you think I’m being unfair.” Phinn opened his mouth, but Dorchester held up a hand. “Allow me to finish, before you lie to us both. You must agree that the succession appears to be at risk.” Phinn wondered if Boman had been able to place the charms in his brother’s and sister-in-law’s bedchambers. “We will continue to try to produce a son, but I need you to do your part and marry.”

“I do understand.” Phinn couldn’t just tell his brother no. He raked his fingers through his hair. “I swear to you that I will do my absolute best to find a woman to wed this Season. I will still ask you to agree that if, after a reasonable time, I am unable to do what you ask, I be allowed to visit France. I will not travel far.” He wouldn’t have to in order to study the churches and other buildings he’d only seen in paintings. “As it is, I can accomplish a great deal without going farther than Paris. I wouldn’t have made the journey to Mexico if Europe had been an option.” He didn’t know why he found it necessary to emphasize that. Unless his sister-in-law’s irritability concerning his travel was getting on his nerves. “I’ll also pray that you and Helen have a boy the next time.”

His brother rubbed the back of his neck, but his lips twitched as well, probably at the vision of Phinn’s head bowed and hands together in pious supplication. “I agree. If you haven’t found a lady to marry by the time the Season is half over, you can travel to Europe on the condition you present yourself in September, ready to try again.”

Free! Thank the Fates, he was free. “I shall try to find a wife.”

“I know you will.” His brother shook his head. “Although, to be honest, it would astonish me if you managed to find a bride before you found Notre Dame.”

As impressive as Notre Dame must be, Phinn truly wanted to find a way to gain entrance to the Hôtel de Cluny, said to be the oldest architecturally fascinating building in Paris. Still, he was a bit surprised that his brother understood. “Thank you.”

“On the contrary, it is I who must thank you.” Dorchester took another sip of wine. “It is I whose duty it is to produce an heir. I should not have to rely on my younger brother.”

“That is one thing over which we have no control.” Those damn charms had better work. Could he manage to put off marriage until they had their next child? Whenever that would occur.

“Fortunately”—his brother grimaced—“I have been told that, even though we must provide a girl her dowry, they are much less expensive than too many sons. Still, I must have at least one.”

“As I said, I shall do my utmost.” Phinn started to stand.

“I have arranged appointments for you beginning tomorrow at eleven o’clock.” A faint grin showed on Dorchester’s face. “You must dress the part of an eligible gentleman as well as act the part.”

Phinn had known he’d need a new wardrobe. If he was honest, his clothing did look a bit worn. Standing, he inclined his head. “I am at your service.”

“My valet shall hire a valet for you.” His brother drained his glass and set it down.

“I would prefer to have Boman involved in the selection.” That way Phinn would be assur. . .