Evelyn's Beau

By A.M. Westerling

After a disappointing Season, Lady Evelyn Kendall retreats to Kendall Hall in Cornwall. Her immediate future does not include a husband, although a renewed acquaintance with long-time family friend Oliver Harrington shows promise. When a local vicar offers her an opportunity to organize a Christmas pageant for disadvantaged children, Evelyn accepts, never thinking it would lead to disaster for both her and Oliver.

Lord Oliver Harrington has long harbored feelings for Evelyn, but dealing with an ailing father and a faltering estate leaves him little time to pursue his intention of seeking her hand in marriage. However, his plans to improve the family fortunes are disrupted when a thief strikes the Harrington holdings.
When Evelyn realizes who the thief is, will Oliver blame her? Or will the magic of mistletoe lead her into his arms?

“For a limited time, you can purchase this novel/novella, and eight more, for 99 cents in the anthology, “Hugs, Kisses and Mistletoe Wishes: A Sweet Christmas Romance Collection.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: BWL Publishing Inc.
• Release date: Nov 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9780228617914

A.M. Westerling

From vikings to viscounts, join the adventure, live the romance.Living by the motto "You don't know unless you try", A.M.Westerling started writing historical romance because she couldn't find the kinds of stories she enjoyed. After all, she thought, who doesn’t enjoy a tasty helping of dashing heroes and spunky heroines, seasoned with a liberal sprinkle of passion and adventure?Westerling, a former engineer, is a member of the Romance Writers of America and active in her local chapter. As well as writing, she enjoys cooking, gardening, camping, yoga, and watching pro sports.Visit her at:www.amwesterling.comwww.facebook.com/A.M.Westerling www.Twitter.com/AMWesterling

Book preview

Evelyn’s Beau

The Ladies of Harrington House – Prequel

A.M. Westerling

Digital ISBNs

EPUB 978-0-2286-1791-4

Kindle 978-0-2286-1792-1

PDF 978-0-2286-1793-8

Print ISBNs

BWL Print 978-0-2286-1794-5

LSI Print 978-0-2286-1795-2

Amazon Print 978-0-2286-1796-9

Copyright 2021 by A.M. Westerling

Cover art by Michelle Lee

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

Dedication

To Vicki and Jude – Thank you!

Chapter One

Laughter and shrieks of delight filled the normally staid grounds of Harrington House for today marked the eighth birthday of Oliver Harrington, the future Earl of Trewland. Boys and girls darted to and fro amongst colorful flags fluttering in the summer breeze and beneath the shade of an enormous oak tree stood a tent with tables laden with food such as might be favoured by children: cakes, sweets, sausages on sticks and the like.

A small group played blindman’s buff while others waited their turn for a pony ride. Yet another group watched a puppet show, including Oliver, who sat cross legged on the ground at the back. He turned to the young girl sitting beside him. I’m going to marry you one day, he announced with all the ferocity his young years could muster. It’s my birthday and you must do as I say.

The little girl, Lady Evelyn Kendall, stuck out her tongue. I’m not marrying you. I’m marrying my papa. Giggling, she jumped to her feet and sped off, blonde curls bouncing and white ruffled skirt flowing behind like a banner of whipped cream.

He pursued her, pulling on the blue bow that festooned the back of her dress to get her to stop. I am. You can’t marry your papa. He’s married to your mama.

She tossed her head. I am going to marry him. You’ll see.

You’re only six years old. You can’t marry anyone. You’re too little, he argued.

I’m not too little. She propped her fists on her waist. And if I’m too little, then how can I marry you?

Her logic obviously left him non plussed for his face reddened and he began to bluster. Perhaps I don’t wish to marry you, I’ve changed my mind. You’re much too stubborn and I don’t like stubborn girls.

I don’t like you either. And the little girl darted off, leaving the forlorn Oliver watching her.

***

Fifteen years later, 1783, London

Evelyn fiddled with a lock of her hair while she waited for her maid, Abigail, to finish doing up the buttons in the back of her dress.

There. All done. Abigail stepped back and crossed her arms, a satisfied expression on her angular face at the results of her ministrations. Ye shall be the belle of the ball.

As long as I don’t have to dance with dreary gentlemen who don’t know their right foot from their left.

Ye’ll have a lovely time and I expect your dance card will be filled in no time.

Evelyn pursed her lips and regarded herself in the mirror. A gold ribbon sparkled where it was threaded through the blonde curls piled high and a white feather arced over her hair. That was the only thing about her appearance that pleased her.

She frowned. Her striped yellow and red silk dress was hideous – festooned with flounces and bows, with a high standing white linen collar that pushed up against her jawline. It was the latest in the parade of ghastly frocks and gowns Mama had chosen for her over the past half year while they were in London for Evelyn’s first season.

The others had been tolerable but Evelyn absolutely detested this one. She hadn’t been able to argue the decision but truly, the dress made her look like a bowl of trifle or perhaps a pudding and not at all the alluring young woman she wished to be. I doubt very much I’ll attract anyone suitable. Because I haven’t caught the attention of any eligible bachelor yet this year. Despite attending every assembly, every salon, every ball, her time here had been a debacle. True, she’d had a few calling cards left for her the morning after but only from disreputable rakes or bumbling idiots who merely wanted her inheritance.

Now, ye’ll have them lined up. But the sympathy in Abigail’s brown eyes told Evelyn everything – the dress truly was a disaster.

Could she refuse to attend? Plead a headache or some such? No, she decided. Although not strictly the season as Parliament was not sitting, this was still an event of some consequence and her absence would draw more notice than her choice of clothing. Besides, there was no accounting for taste. Others might find her outfit pleasing. She must simply grin and bear it and next time, put her foot down when her mother suggested a frock Evelyn didn’t like. Too, she would be attending the ball with her parents so it’s not like she could wear something else without her mama’s notice.

She gritted her teeth and picked up her fan. How horrid could it possibly be?

Abigail slung Evelyn’s velvet evening cloak around her shoulders. I can’t wait to hear all about it. The final ball for some time. Are you excited or perhaps a little sad?

Relieved. She tapped her maid’s shoulder with her fan. Of course, I shall tell you all about it. I expect I shan’t be able to sleep from the excitement of it all, she added drily.

I’ll wait up for you. I have some mending to do; it will pass the time nicely.

Evelyn waved and made her way downstairs to join her parents in the foyer of the Kendall London town house.

Don’t you look lovely, Lady Kendall murmured approvingly when Evelyn joined them. She stepped over to pull open her daughter’s cloak. She nodded when she saw the dress. It’s every bit as gorgeous as I remember. Your papa shall have to beat off the suitors, you’ll see.

Indeed I shall. Lord Kendall’s chest puffed up. No one is as beautiful as my favourite daughter.

I’m your only daughter. She grinned. Dear Papa. That was their standing jest. Evelyn had four brothers but no sisters making her, of course, the only daughter.

But to be the most beautiful young lady in attendance tonight? She doubted that very much. The dress made her look like a naughty toddler playing dress up. Young gentlemen much preferred elegance. True, she had blonde curls and lips the color of pink roses but she was rather short of stature which meant Abigail had to struggle with the laces of Evelyn’s corset to give even the slightest hint that she had a waist.

If even one bachelor approached her, she would be surprised.

Chapter Two

Oliver leaned against the wall close to the entrance to the Barrington’s ballroom watching the parade of young ladies enter. And beside him, his closest friends Simon Whittington and Francis Vaughan. This wasn’t his first time in London, and he knew what to expect – the young ladies about to enter the marriage market would prance about in their finery, giggling behind their fans and flirting when out of view and ear shot of their mamas.

Tonight was the final event in London’s social calendar of see and be seen. Then, thankfully, he could return to Cornwall and truthfully explain to his parents that although he’d been out and about, he’d not found a young lady with whom he might choose to spend the rest of his life.

Lord and Lady Kendall, Lady Evelyn, shouted the footman announcing the guests as they arrived. Oliver recognized the names and straightened to peer at the new arrivals through the leaves of the potted tree they stood behind.

Egad, her dressmaker should be shot, murmured Simon.

Oliver slanted a glance towards his friend. Since when are you so knowledgeable on ladies’ fashion?

Even I can see the dress does nothing for her. A note of disgust threaded through Francis’ voice.

Well, she does hail from Cornwall, said Simon. "It’s only natural such a backwater would be years behind.

I think it’s a defense mechanism. To scare off potential suitors. Oliver inspected Evelyn closely. What else could it be? What could possibly possess the woman to wear such a monstrosity? Even now, a few titters rolled through the air as the new arrivals worked their way into the room. Sympathy surged through him at the crimson tide spreading across Lady Evelyn’s cheeks. Poor thing, she’d heard the titters and rightly guessed they were about her.

You know her, do you not? Francis poked him in the ribs.

I know of her, he corrected his friend. Her family lives several estates away. But I haven’t seen much of her since we were children. Between boarding school and university, he’d not spent much time at his family’s country estate. That is about to change, he thought to himself. He looked forward to returning to Harrington House, in the countryside just outside of Falmouth where he intended to take over managing the Trewland estates from his ailing father. Doubtless he would encounter more of the Kendalls and the lovely Lady Evelyn there, however, in the meantime, chivalry dictated that he save the young woman from embarrassment. Being neighbors and all.

Excuse me, I do believe I shall remake our acquaintance. He pushed himself off the wall and adjusted the knot of his neck cloth.

Ah, that’s our Oliver, forever rescuing damsels in distress. Simon chuckled. While you busy yourself with that, I shall find the refreshments.

Splendid idea, agreed Francis and the two pushed their way through the crowd of velvet and satin clad bodies and out of sight into the adjoining salon.

Oliver waited a few moments for the Kendalls to make their way further into the ball room before making his move.

Lady Kendall, he bowed to Evelyn’s mother. Oliver Harrington.

Why Lord Oliver, cooed the woman who turned to look at her daughter. Look who it is, Evelyn, it’s Oliver Harrington. From Harrington House.

Judging by the frown on Evelyn’s face, she was rather unimpressed with his presence. Did she guess his intent? To save her from embarrassment? Perhaps she didn’t feel she needed saving.

Good evening, she said. How lovely to see you here. Her wooden tones plainly indicated she didn’t find it lovely to see him at all.

He stifled a grin. He liked a challenge and Evelyn was about to present him with one. He would coax a smile from her lips if it took him all evening. He