Tell Me You Love Me

Book 3: Here Come the Grooms

by Ella Quinn

Genres: Historical Romance; Regency Romance

Synopsis

A career diplomat pursues his perfect match in this charming Regency romance set in the delightful world of bestselling author Ella Quinn’s much-loved Worthingtons and their extended family—where true love is the ultimate temptation.

For fans of sexy, sparkling historical romance by authors like Julia Quinn, Sabrina Jeffries, Amalie Howard, Martha Waters, and Evie Dunmore.

After years stationed in Spain as a diplomate with Britain’s Foreign Service, the time has come for Mr. Walter Carpenter, brother-in-law to the Earl of Worthington, to marry. But Walter’s plans to wed his true love—and lover—the daughter of the Spanish Foreign Minister, soon come to an abrupt and shocking end. Despondent, and afraid he can never trust another lady, he returns to England, knowing he must find a wife. But can he marry without love?

Miss Catherine Stratford, daughter of a career diplomate, was drawn to handsome, heroic, and not least of all kind Walter Carpenter the first time she met him at the age of 16. Yet just as she was to make her come out, her family moved to Vienna. No other man has captivated her since. With a mandate to wed, her parents have sent her to relatives in England to find a husband.

Catherine is exhilarated to discover that Mr. Carpenter is also present with the same mission. As a series of matchmaking house parties commences she hopes he will emerge from his darkness to see her as a love he can trust—and most of all, love in return. But to find their way to one another, they will have to navigate the other eligible ladies and gentlemen in attendance, Walter’s fears—and one long held secret Catherine must ultimately reveal . . .

Release date: November 24, 2026

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 336

Sample

May 1826Madrid, Spain

Mr. Walter Carpenter, a diplomat with Britain’s foreign service, brother to the Earl of Stanwood and brother-in-law to the Earl of Worthington, shrugged on his jacket as he gazed upon the lady he wanted to make his wife. Josefa Maria Louisa Montalto was the eldest daughter of the Duque de Montalto, the Spanish foreign minister. She and Walter had been having relations for the past two months. During that time, she had refused, for one reason or another, to allow him to approach her father with an offer of marriage. She gazed at him from beneath thick ebony lashes. Her hair, so black it appeared almost blue, was spread out, tangled around her body from their lovemaking. He needed to make her his in truth.

“Josefa, I must speak with your father. Soon. We can’t keep on like this.”

She swung her long legs over the bed, and stood, donning her robe. “Walter, my love.” Her hand pressed against his chest. “You cannot.” She glanced away. “I cannot marry you.”

“You what?” Walter shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing. “You can’t marry me? I don’t understand. You and I have been having relations for two months. You said you loved me. I love you.” He grabbed her hand. “What do you mean you can’t marry me?”

She looked up. Her midnight-blue eyes misted. “I do love you. But I have been betrothed to Don Gaspar of Conde since I was an infant.” She searched Walter’s eyes. “He is the closest friend I have. I cannot betray either him or my family. I cannot create a scandal. That would not be good for you or your career either.”

He would have given up his career for her. Yet the look on her face told him it was useless to argue. Stepping back, he removed her hand from his chest. “Then what was this. Us?”

Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, but she did not meet his gaze. “He cannot.” Josefa sniffed and a tear carved a path down her smooth cheek. “He cannot be a husband to me.”

Walter’s mind spun with reasons. “Is he impotent?”

She closed her eyes. “He cannot be with a woman.”

He dragged his hand through his hair. This could not be happening. “He prefers men?”

“You cannot tell anyone. You must not. I only tell you because I love you and you deserve to know the truth.” Josefa bent her head. “He can only be with a man.” Then she looked up at him. Her chin firmed, and her eyes hardened. “I have known since I was a girl. I must protect him. I must protect his line.”

Walter swallowed. “When is the wedding?”

“In two days.” She turned away from him. “You must go. We can never see each other again.”

He glanced around the well-appointed room. It was medieval in appearance. Rich tapestries covered wood-paneled walls. The bed covers and hangings were red, embroidered in blue, green, and gold. Her maid would arrive when it was time for her to depart. And he’d take the tunnel to a place many streets away from the fifteenth-century house. He was still having trouble accepting what she’d said. “I’m leaving. I wish you well.”

Josefa moved toward him.

“No.” Walter stepped away from her. “Do not touch me.” He pressed the place on the wall that opened the door and stepped inside the tunnel. “I hope you are happy in your marriage.”

As the door closed, he heard her sob, but she had made her decision. She’d rejected him. When he reached the street, his coach was waiting. “Back to my residence.”

Walter climbed in and the carriage started. Why had he not considered there was a problem? But how could he? He knew men who preferred other men, and he did not condemn them. But to be used like she had used him. He leaned his head back against the squabs. Why had he not been suspicious the first time he’d asked to speak to her father, and she had refused? Why had she never introduced him to her family? Walter hit the side of his coach. He should have known something wasn’t right. He should have been suspicious. But she’d been a virgin. A well-born daughter of a duke. He covered his face with his hands but refused to give in to his tears. The ambassador was right. It was time to return to England and find a wife. He had just enough time to travel to the port of Valencia on Spain’s east coast to catch the ship that had been booked for him. The one he’d planned to miss. From there, they’d sail south to Gibraltar, around the tip of Portugal and up the French coast to England, making stops along the way. The embassy had made the arrangements. Walter was fortunate he’d not yet canceled them. Although, at this point, he didn’t care if he’d had to work his way back to England as a sailor. As long as he got away from her and her machinations.

Josefa tried to stem the tears flowing down her cheeks. A knock on the door came. It was probably her maid. “Come.”

“Josefa?”

She turned to her fiancé. “Gaspar, what are you doing here?”

He could not meet her eyes. “I came to see if you were all right.”

“I am well.” She wiped the moisture from her cheeks and took a breath. “And I am with child.” Josefa fought an incipient sob. “He is gone.”

Gaspar pulled his bottom lip under his teeth, then looked at her. “You were in love with him?”

“I was.” She tried to stand taller. “He is a good man.”

Gaspar stared to cry. “I-I am sorry.”

“No.” Josefa wrapped her arms around him. This was the way it always was. She protected him. First from his father, then from the world. “It is what we agreed.” No one could know. In Spain, it could mean his death. “I will always protect you.”

His strange light blue eyes stared at her. “And I will always protect your child.”

“Our child.” She fixed her focus on him. She had originally selected Walter because both her and Gaspar’s mothers were from the Austrian Empire and had blond hair and light blue eyes. It would not be strange for her to have a child with those attributes. Yet, Josefa had never expected to fall in love with Walter. “You must never forget that this child is yours.”

“I will never forget.” Gaspar gave her a slight smile. “He or she is mine. No matter what sex, the child is the next heir.”

“Yes.” Unlike the laws of other countries, Spain allowed girls to inherit. That was a blessing. She did not think she could do this again. “I must go. Tomorrow will be a busy day.”

“Thank you, again.” He hugged her. “You are the best friend I could ever have.”

“As you are mine.”

Dover, England, six weeks later.

Walter saw his elder brother Charlie, the Earl of Stanwood, waving from the dock and smiled. It had been a difficult passage. Not because of the weather. The winds and the ocean had been favorable. The other passengers had been entertaining, and he’d replied in kind. Yet, he still could not see his way forward. To find a lady he could love. To trust again. Could he wed if he wasn’t in love or couldn’t trust? His family only married for love. He wanted that too.

Charlie boarded the ship and took Walter in a hard hug. “We’ve missed you. Everyone. Our brothers and sisters. Even the ones by marriage. The children who have been born since you left, or were too young to remember you, want to finally meet their Uncle Walter.” Charlie leaned back. His sky-blue gaze, just like Walter’s—just like all his Carpenter siblings—seemed to bore into his eyes. “What’s happened? What’s wrong?” Charlie slung his arm around Walter’s shoulders and guided him off the ship. “Don’t answer now. We’ll talk when we get to the hotel.” His brother glanced over his shoulder. “Simmons, take Mr. Carpenter’s luggage to the White Horse.” His chin firmed. “I have rooms reserved and a private parlor. I came alone to give you a day or so to recover from your journey. Would you care for a brandy?”

A lump formed in Walter’s throat and tears pricked his eyes. “Yes.” God, it was good to be home. “A brandy is just what I need.”

Within minutes Walter was bathing in a large copper tub at the White Horse as Simmons tutted over Walter’s wardrobe. “Sir, you’ll need to visit Weston as soon as we arrive in Town.”

He didn’t think his clothes were that bad, but his valet had never taken to Spanish tailors. “I wouldn’t be surprised if my brother has already made arrangements.”

“His lordship is most accommodating.”

Yes, he was. He also took being the head of the family seriously and would want to know why Walter was so blue deviled. “In any event, I shall ask.”

“Thank you, sir. I have your kit laid out.”

“Thank you, Simmons.” Walter rose from the bathtub. “How much time do I have?”

“Only thirty minutes.”

“That will do.” At least he didn’t have to have his cravat perfectly tied for his brother.

In a bit less than a half hour, he strolled into the private parlor. Charlie was already there, glass of wine in hand, gazing out the window.

“I hope you don’t mind.” Charlie turned and went to the table. “Brandy or wine?”

“A brandy wouldn’t go amiss.” Walter took a chair at the table.

His brother poured a glass of the fortified wine and pushed it across the table, then refreshed his half-empty glass of claret for himself. “I ordered beefsteak with various vegetables and cod as a second course.”

Walter nodded. “Thank you.” Good English fare. “That sounds excellent.”

“I’m happy that you’re pleased.” Charlie took a sip of wine and waited.

Walter braced himself with a large drink of brandy. “The short story is that I fell in love then found out she was already betrothed.” Over the course of dinner, he told his brother everything but her name. Charlie listened without questions, simply injecting a comment periodically. “That’s the whole story.”

“Could she be with child?”

“No.” Walter shook his head. “I thought she might be, but there were a few days when we did not meet. She told me it was due to her woman’s time.”

His eyes hard, Charlie pressed his lips together. “Do you still plan to wed?”

“I must.” Walter swallowed. “In order to rise in my profession and be sent to Vienna I must marry.”

His brother’s face was stern as he gazed at something over Walter’s shoulder. “Do you mind if I consult with Oriana and our sisters?”

Oriana was Charlie’s countess. It wouldn’t be Walter’s first preference, but, in all honesty, he didn’t think he had a chance in hell of keeping them ignorant of what had occurred. They would also be crucial to him finding a wife in summer. “No. I suppose they must be told.”

His brother nodded. “Particularly as we’re at the end of the Season. They are the only ones who could possibly work out a way for you to meet eligible ladies.”

Walter was supposed to have returned to England over two months ago, but he thought he knew who he’d wed. “I understand. I’m just …”

“I know. Your heart isn’t in it.” A knock fell on the door and the maids entered with their meal and another bottle of claret. Once they left, Charlie continued, “I know a bit about not finding someone to wed. I met Oriana completely by accident.”

As his siblings kept Walter informed about all the goings-on in the family, he knew how his brother and sister-by-marriage had met. He grinned. The first real smile he’d given in weeks. “I know.”

Charlie grimaced. “I can’t decide whether to tell you to allow Kenilworth and Merton to assist you or not. Their help is a bit of a double-edged sword.”

“Should we add Theo and her duke to that as well?” Theo was a sister Walter had gained when his oldest sister, Grace, had married Matt, Earl of Worthington. Matt had guardianship over his four sisters; and Grace, with the help of their grandfather, had guardianship of Walter and their brothers and sisters. All seven of them. Once both groups of siblings had met, Charlotte, the Marchioness of Kenilworth née Carpenter, and Louisa, Duchess of Rothwell née Vivers, the two second eldest, decided that Matt and Grace were better together than apart, and they proposed that all of them become one family. Walter had been fourteen at the time. Everyone agreed. Mary, Walter’s youngest sister by blood, was the only one who had not yet wed. She was due to come out next spring.

Charlie rubbed his chin. “Theo and Chandos have been very successful in matching couples.”

Again, Walter had already been informed. “I am open to all suggestions.” What he didn’t know was if he was open to love again. “I suppose I’ll have to throw myself on their mercy.”

Charlie almost choked on a piece of beef. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“Is everyone in Town?” It wouldn’t surprise Walter if they were.

“Almost.” His brother chewed and swallowed. “Those who aren’t will be there soon.”

He nodded. He was looking forward to seeing everyone. Then again, there were so many in his family he’d not yet met. “How many are we now?”

“Twenty-one, not including the younger children?” Charlie grinned. “But half of the adults or close-to-being-adults you already know.”

“That sounds about right.” The conversation, brandy, and wine had already made Walter feel better than he had since he’d been betrayed. And he was looking forward to seeing his family again. It had been far too long.

As soon as dessert, an extremely tasty apple pie, was consumed, Charlie rose. “We’d better retire soon. I planned an early start for tomorrow.”

“I’ll be up in a little bit.” Walter needed time to think.

Charlie nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I’ll be up early.” Walter nodded. He was about to lose all control over his life. Would he really be able to let everyone else take charge? Every single one of his sisters, either by marriage or by blood, were forces to be reckoned with. Part of him just wanted someone to pick a bride with whom he could live. But would he really be happy if he allowed them to do it? Didn’t he want to select his own bride? Could he trust himself? Could he trust another woman? Those were all questions for which he didn’t have answers.

His brother hadn’t been exaggerating about leaving early. At four the next morning his valet entered and laid out Walter’s kit. “We depart in less than an hour. His lordship said he wants to be home by dinner.”

He threw off the covers and went to the washstand. Soap, razor, and a piece of linen were already there. Matt had insisted that the boys learn to shave themselves. And, although Walter preferred to let Simmons do it, there was no time this morning. Just over twenty minutes later Walter strolled into the private parlor. “How long do you intend to take to reach Town?”

“Ten hours,” Charlie said around a mouthful of eggs and ham. He chased his food down with a cup of coffee. “Six horses and frequent changes. We’ll go to Worthington House for dinner.”

That meant that the entire family was expected to be present. Walter took a seat then dug into the plate that had already been prepared for him. “I don’t suppose we’ll stop for luncheon?”

His brother shook his head. “The cook here has prepared baskets.”

Just under ten hours later, they arrived in front of Stanwood House on Berkeley Square in Mayfair. A very pretty and pregnant lady, a Great Dane, and two toddlers holding a nursemaid’s hands emerged from the house. Charlie jumped down and embraced the lady before patting the dog and picking up the twins.

“They heard the coach and demanded to greet you.” She smiled. Turning, she looked at Walter. “You can be no other than my brother Walter. I have heard a great deal about you. Welcome!” Glancing at the children, she said, “Olivia, Kip, come meet your uncle Walter.”

“Uncle Walter!” The child that Walter assumed was Kip reached out for him.

Not to be left out, little Olivia leaned toward Walter. “Uncle Walter.”

The Great Dane sniffed him before leaning against his leg in a Great Dane hug. “Greetings.” He bussed the children’s cheeks before addressing the lady. “You must be Oriana.”

She smiled. “As you see.” She fell in next to him as they entered the house. “We are all so happy to have you home even if it’s for a short time. Your sisters, their husbands, and children will be present at dinner.”

“I got that impression. The children look like small copies of you and Charlie.”

Her smile widened. “In many ways they are, but do not let their coloring fool you. Kip looks very like my father in his face, and Olivia resembles Grace.”

Walter stared at the children, who were looking over their father’s shoulders at him. His nephew had his and his father’s coloring, just as his niece had her mother’s, but that was where the resemblance ended. “You’re right. At least about Olivia.”

“There is a small painting of my father in the morning room.”

“I’m interested in viewing it.”

The butler appeared at their side and bowed. “Welcome home, Master Walter.”

“Royston. You haven’t changed a bit. I’m very glad to see you.”

“Thank you, sir. Your trunk arrived earlier, your valet has already gone up. You are in your old room.”

“Thank you.” Walter had lived across the street at Worthington House while he was growing up, but once Charlie had reached his majority and moved into Stanwood House, Walter stayed there when he was in Town.

“You two will want to freshen up.” Oriana took Charlie’s arm as the nursemaid gathered the toddlers. “You are going to be mobbed when we arrive across the street.”

“I have no doubt.”

Olivia looked back over her shoulder and solemnly nodded her head. “Mobbed.”

It would be wonderful to see his family. But there were a lot of them.

Miss Catherine Stratford stood next to her traveling companion, Jane, Mrs. Jasper Haughton, widow, as they approached Dover, England. “It has been so long since I’ve seen my aunt and uncle Huntingdon and my cousins, I do not think I’d recognize them if they were to meet me at the docks.”

“When was the last time you saw them?” Jane Haughton asked.

“Goodness, eight years? I think. It was before we moved to Spain.” Had it been that long or longer? “I really do not remember. I do know that my cousin Dorie, now the Marchioness of Exeter, is four years older than I am. That would make her twenty-six, I think.”

Jane sighed. “Unfortunately, there is no doubt at all that my sisters will not know me.”

Catherine tilted her head as she looked at her friend. “That is a bad thing?”

“It has been three years since Jasper died. They will be in rare matchmaking form.” Jane shook her head. “And I am just not ready. I do not have to wed for money. My husband left me quite well-off. However, as we did not have children, my sisters cannot imagine a life for me that does not include them.”

That was unfortunate. “I understand. I wish I could help in some way.”

“If you marry an important peer, perhaps you will require a companion or secretary and hire me. Then one day, I will simply find myself boarding a ship to somewhere.”

“Is that what you want to do? Travel?”

“Indeed. If nothing else, my visit in Vienna showed me that I want to see a great deal more of the world.”

“You should wed a diplomat.” Catherine inclined her head sharply. “That is what I intend to do.” If only she had come out before they had left Spain, she knew exactly whom she would like to marry. Or who she wanted to wed. Mr. Walter Carpenter was the gentleman with whom she compared all the others. None of them had come close.

Jane frowned. “I thought your father wanted you to marry a peer?”

“He does.” Catherine dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand. “It is a ridiculous idea. Even though I know everything about moving households, hiring servants, hosting political and diplomatic parties and the like, I know almost nothing about how to manage a large estate. And, after all, my father was not a peer when he wed my mother. Ergo, I do not see why I must be a sacrificial lamb.”

A peel of laughter emitted from her traveling companion. “What about your dowry?”

Catherine raised a shoulder in a shrug. “I read the documents. There is nothing about his specific approval for the inheritance I received from my grandmother, and, although he does have to give permission for me to receive my dowry, he has given the authority to my aunt and uncle to make the decision.”

“Do you not think they will balk?” Jane asked.

“Not at all. As long as a potential suitor is eligible in every other way, they will approve. My mother and aunt believe in love matches.”

Her friend’s eyes widened. “How progressive of them.”

“Yes.” Catherine smiled. “Is it not?”

“Oh, look.” Jane pointed. “We are entering the harbor.”

“At least you are safe from your sisters for another day or two. You are supposed to remain with me until I reach my aunt’s house.”

She pulled a face. “Perhaps I can manage to contact my banker and man of business and disappear before my sisters descend.”

“That is an idea.” Catherine hoped Jane was able to make her escape. “We are staying at the White Hart this evening, then one night at a hotel that was recommended to my mother before arriving in Town.”

“Miss Catherine.”

Her footman was one of the three servants she had brought with her. “Yes, Fritz?”

“Jeanne and Mrs. Haughton’s maid have the trunks ready. It would be better if we took them off the ship first. Connor and the maids will watch them while I come back to escort you and Mrs. Haughton to the docks. The purser will arrange a cart.”

“Thank you. That sounds well planned.”

Once Fritz had left, Catherine turned to Jane. “Let the rest of our journey begin. I must fetch Gigi.”

Dorie, Marchioness of Exeter, had just had tea delivered for her friends Louisa, the Duchess of Rothwell; Louisa’s sister Charlotte, the Marchioness of Kenilworth; and their cousin-by-marriage Dotty, the Marchioness of Merton, when Dorie’s mother entered the parlor seemingly under full sail waving a much-folded sheet of paper.

“Mama, what is it?”

“Your cousin Catherine is arriving tomorrow.”

Actually, Dorie was expecting Catherine today. As they had been planning for her arrival for a while—indeed, that was one of the things Dorie wanted to discuss with her friends—she did not understand the problem. “I know. We discussed this weeks ago when you received Aunt Stratford’s letter and Catherine’s schedule.”

Mama’s brows slammed together. “Yes, but how are you going to marry her off during the summer?”

“That is what we”—Dorie indicted the other ladies—“are discussing.”

“Very well. I shall leave you to it. Let me know what you decide.” Her mother left as quickly as she had entered.

“Charlotte, you were about to say something?” Dorie asked.

“Indeed.” Charlotte grinned. “Walter just returned yesterday with instructions to find a wife for him.”

Now that was interesting. “Really?”

“And naturally,” Dotty injected, “he must have a wife with the proper credentials.”

“Someone suited to the diplomatic lifestyle,” Louisa added.

“Hmm. I believe Catherine might just suit.” Then Dorie remembered the letter her aunt had written. “The only problem might be that her father wants her to wed a peer.”

The ladies frowned.

“What exactly does the letter say?” Charlotte asked.

“What is she like?” Dotty said at the same time.

Dorie went to her desk and took out a copy of the letter her mother had, as well as her cousin’s travel plans, and perused it. “Well, for one thing, as I suspected, Mama is off on her dates. Catherine is arriving today.” Dorie glanced up at the sound of the new doorbell. “I believe we will shortly discover what she wants and how serious her father is about her marrying into the peerage.”

An extremely elegant lady in her early twenties, twenty-two to be exact if Dorie’s memory served, swept into the parlor holding a lead on the end of which was a small brown and white dog with wavy fur. “I hope you do not mind. I found Gigi in Paris and could not resist her. She is only twenty weeks old, but already house trained. One of my servants will take her out when necessary. Where are my manners. I am your cousin Catherine.” She looked at Dorie and her friends, then her gaze returned to Dorie. “You must be my cousin Dorie. You resemble my mother.”

Smiles slowly dawned on Charlotte’s, Dotty’s, and Louisa’s faces. They must be thinking the same thing as Dorie. This was no milk and water miss. She was a lady after their own hearts and temperaments. Holding out her hands, she went forward and embraced her cousin. “I am so happy to finally meet you. Did you bring a chaperone or companion?” She was certain one was mentioned.

“Jane, Mrs. Haughton, decided to go to Mivert’s Hotel to prepare for her sisters’ arrival, or her escape, whichever comes first.” Catherine glanced at the other ladies. “If I interrupted your conversation, I am happy to go up and come back down later.”

Dotty laughed as she rose. “Not at all. In fact, we were just getting ready to discuss your husband hunt, as it were. I am Lady Merton—call me Dotty—I believe we will become fast friends.”

“Indeed. Your timing is perfect.” Charlotte rose and greeted Catherine. “I am Lady Kenilworth. I concur with Dotty, call me Charlotte.”

Louisa joined them. “I am the Duchess of Rothwell. I agree with the others, call me Louisa. There is no reason we should not be on a first-name basis.”

“Well then.” Dorie waved them to the sofa and chairs. “Unless you need to refresh yourself, we may begin.”

“Not at all.” Catherine glanced at the tea tray. “I would dearly love a cup of tea.”

Dorie walked over to the bellpull and tugged it. A footman answered. “We would like more tea, please.”

Once the ladies had settled, Charlotte began again. “Our brother Walter has just arrived from Spain and must find a wife. He is due to be posted to Vienna if he is married.”

Catherine’s jaw dropped slightly before she recovered. “Walter, Mr. Walter Carpenter?”

“Yes.” Louisa appeared concerned. “Why?”

“This is perfect.” Catherine smiled. Dorie glanced at her friends. They all had the same look of confusion on their faces. “I see I must explain. Mr. Carpenter arrived in Spain when I was still in the schoolroom. Unfortunately, before I was of age to make a come out, we were transferred to Vienna. I have always thought of him as the perfect gentleman for me.”

Dotty tilted her head to the right then to the left before saying, “What do you want from a husband?”

“I have every intention of being a diplomat’s wife. However, I also want a husband who is kind, has a sense of humor, and likes people. Mr. Carpenter was very nice to all of us schoolroom misses without being condescending. He was the epitome of a gentleman. And he had, and still has, a reputation of being an astute diplomat and master negotiator.”

Dorie’s three friends exchanged looks and nodded.

“I must tell you something,” Charlotte said. “He is not in a good frame of mind at the moment. Before he left Spain, he fell in love with a Spanish lady. They were, er, quite intimate. It was not until he told her he insisted on speaking with her father that she informed him she had been betrothed since childhood to another gentleman, and that she had no intention of breaking the betrothal. He is not only heartbro. . .