Wonderful Harriet Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dear Reader

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  About the Author

  Coming August 15, 2013: My Lord Highwayman

  WONDERFUL HARRIET

  A sequel to WICKED AND WONDERFUL

  By

  Valerie King

  WONDERFUL HARRIET

  By Valerie King

  Copyright © 2013 by Valerie King

  All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be reproduced in whole or in part, scanned, photocopied, recorded, distributed in any printed or electronic form, or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or hereafter invented, without express written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This 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, locales, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Formatting and cover by Bella Media Management.

  First Edition eBook

  Published at Smashwords

  Dear Reader,

  WONDERFUL HARRIET was a joy to write. I captured ‘Harriet’ from WICKED AND WONDERFUL by asking the question: How would Judith’s journey, in WICKED AND WONDERFUL, change Harriet’s life? I answered the question thematically first, that Judith’s choices would have inspired Harriet to take her future into her own hands. In that way, WONDERFUL HARRIET was born.

  As many of you know, I write and have been published in several genres, including Western Historical Romance, Regency Romance, Contemporary Romance, and Paranormal Romance, though the pseudonyms vary at times.

  When I first started thinking about releasing my backlist, I thought it would be fun to occasionally create companion stories for the original novels, the real point of inspiration for WONDERFUL HARRIET. I had a terrific time building in the bumbling-but-soon-to-transform Cornelius, who bungles a kidnapping at the outset of the book.

  But it’s Lord Hardwick who gives shape to the story, a typical alpha hero, dominating his world, unaware of the hearts he steals and breaks, and generally headed down the wrong path until Harriet intrudes with her solid common sense. Her transformation, however, sets all the wheels in motion for change, for brighter futures, and for love.

  I hope you enjoy Harriet and Hardwick’s journey as they each engage with life and with each other in a way that lets a forever kind of love blossom in the world of Regency London.

  Enjoy!

  To learn more about Valerie King and to sign up for her newsletter go to http://www.valerieking-romance.com/

  Be sure to read the excerpt from MY LORD HIGHWAYMAN, coming August 15, 2013. You’ll find the excerpt at the end of this book!

  Chapter One

  The wilds of Somerset, 1818

  “She will not give you the money, Cornelius. She had rather die first. You know how my mother is.” Harriet could not credit that in her supremely ordinary life, adventure had finally come to her even if from the most absurd man in the world.

  “Everyone says she’s rich as Croesus,” Cornelius said. “I...I shall make her give me the money.”

  Harriet stared at the pistol leveled at her bosom. The barrel shook. She would have been worried at an accidental firing, but given the sad manner in which Cornelius had actually loaded the weapon, she could only sigh.

  Her uncle had taught her the use of firearms from the time she was very young, and from what she could perceive, the only danger she faced right now was that her captor would accidentally drop the weapon on her foot. The pan had no powder and she could hear the pistol ball roll in the barrel, which of course caused Cornelius to keep the pistol aimed upward at a rather strange angle.

  She unloosened the already loose knot that held her wrists together in front of her and bunched the now unencumbered rope on her lap.

  She knew Cornelius well. She had grown up with him since his family was one of many that her parents visited in any given year. Later, she met him at the local assemblies in Bath. He had been hopeless then but she feared that he had actually grown worse.

  She glanced out the window to her left. She could see her mother’s coach across the street. A fresh team had already been harnessed and the coachman held the reins firmly in hand, ready to be going.

  Cornelius had at least achieved the hiring of a private parlor here at the Swan just across from the Crown. Although, given his intention of demanding a ransom from her mother for Harriet’s safe return, she wasn’t certain how he had paid for the accommodations in the first place.

  Cornelius, it would seem, was deeply in debt and needed funds instantly to extricate himself.

  The trouble was, Harriet could have easily escaped since she wasn’t in the least danger and could overpower Cornelius merely by yelling at him.

  She had arrived with her mother, en route to London for the Season, to enjoy a very fine nuncheon at the Crown. Having taken a few moments to walk up the High Street and back before returning to the coach, she had been waylaid by Cornelius who asked to speak with her on a matter of some urgency.

  Once within the parlor, he had produced a pistol and after having settled the firearm on a nearby table which Harriet could have easily grabbed, he had set about binding her. She had even assisted him in tying the bow. Then he had thanked her for her help.

  For reasons she could not quite explain to herself, she had almost from the first decided to let the very strange and inadequate kidnapping play out.

  Yet, as she stared at the coach awaiting her, she released a heavy sigh. She was deeply discontent, for many reasons she supposed. But if she had to set a date as to when her general dissatisfaction began, she believed it was summer last when she was in the company of the Earl of Kelthorne at his castle in Somerset, during a visit that lasted several weeks.

  She was friends with Kelthorne’s sisters and had been invited to enjoy the newly inherited castle. The married women had been plotting to get the quite roguish Earl of Kelthorne betrothed at last.

  They had achieved their goal, but only because fate had stepped in and provided exactly the right woman for Kelthorne and not the one of their choosing.

  It had all been so romantic for among the group was an extraordinary young woman, Judith Lovington, who had been hiding in a traveling troupe of performers for some eight years, from the time she was fourteen. She had escaped a damaging situation that somehow involved the Marquess of Stolford, though given her maidenly status, Harriet had been prevented from knowing many of the details. An attempted abduction was all that she’d been told.

  In the end, Kelthorne had managed to find Miss Lovington before harm was done and a few weeks later, after having fallen violently in love, they were married.

  Yes, very romantic.

  Judith Lovington had therefore dominated Harriet’s thoughts for months now. She was happily married and was said to be with child. Harriet sincerely hoped that Lady Kelthorne would be in London, despite her delicate state. She wanted to see the young woman again, two years her junior, who had overcome such tremendous odds to have love transform her life.

  Love. That elusive state in which Harriet had never once found herself, never known even a moment’s fluttering of the heart. Well, perhaps one man had made her heart flutter, possibly even throb horribly on occasion, but he had been so far beyond her reach that she had ignored the occasional plucking of her heartstrings when he but entered a room.

  As for her mama, Mrs. Banwell cared only that Harrie
t stop disgracing herself and finally take a husband. However, at four and twenty, Harriet’s unwillingness to marry the numerous fortune hunters who had sought her hand, had made her a confirmed ape-leader.

  She was woefully on the shelf.

  The problem, however, seemed to be fixed on the terrible fact that Harriet was simply not up to snuff. Yes, she might have more natural intelligence than Cornelius, but she seemed lacking in some essential quality that Judith Lovington possessed in abundance. But what that quality might be, she was not sure.

  Yet somehow, in this moment, as Cornelius once more set the useless weapon on the table, again within Harriet’s reach, and searched around in his pocket for something, she felt that above all things, her life must change.

  She just didn’t know how to go about the business.

  Cornelius drew a rumpled sheet of paper from his pocket. “I say, Harriet, would you listen to my ransom plea? I should like your opinion.”

  Harriet bit back her smiles. “Of course, Cornelius. You are my very good friend. I would oblige you in anything.”

  Cornelius smiled. “You were always a right ‘un, Harriet.”

  He picked up the pistol once more, but the weight of it, being a larger, older sort of firearm, wavered around a great deal. The pistol ball continually threatened to roll out the end of the barrel. Struggling as he was to keep the crumpled page unfurled so that he could read it, he finally handed the pistol to Harriet for her safekeeping.

  She chuckled softly, took the gun, settling it sideways on her lap, on top of the rope.

  “Very well.” He cleared his throat and read: My most esteemed Mrs. Banwell. I beg you will forgive this extreme impertinence on my part but I must have two hundred pounds from you today because my cousin demands that I settle my debts myself from now on and I had forgot a certain amount I had lost at one of the East End hells. You see, I have gambled my quarterly allowance away yet again and Hardwick, my cousin, told me three months ago that he would no longer pay for any debts of mine, that I must budget my money more wisely, or suffer the consequences.

  All well and good for him to tell me that, when he has eight thousand a year and can pay all the debts he could ever incur, but what am I to do on only a tenth of that amount per annum? I’m sure you see my difficulty and must sympathize with me. To that end, my dear most honorable Mrs. Banwell, I beg you will send two hundred pounds to the Swan by half past one if you ever hope to see your daughter, Harriet, alive again.

  Yours, etc. Cornelius Sibford.

  He lifted his hopeful gaze to her and waited for her response.

  Harriet rubbed a gloved finger along the polished wood stock of the pistol. “I must say, that was beautifully done. You have an excellent manner of writing.”

  “I do?”

  “Indeed, you do.” She absolutely refused to comment on the content.

  “But will it serve? Will your mother send the money? I am most desperate. Hardwick expects an accounting by two o’clock.”

  “It is a hard case, there can be no two opinions on that score. But Cornelius, though I do not like to mention it because I can see that you are very determined--”

  “Most determined,” he nodded, then began to chew, as was his dreadful habit, on the cuticle of his right index finger.

  “Yes, as I was saying. The problem is that your plan will probably get you hung at Tyburn Tree. Kidnapping is a terrible offense against the King’s Law.”

  “Eh? What’s that? But I only want two hundred pounds.”

  She lifted the gun slightly. “Yet, you’ve held me at gunpoint.” She lifted the rope. “And you bound me. Although, I believe the note will probably send you to prison before anything else.”

  He looked so cast down, so hopeless, that she actually felt for him and his ridiculous scheme. He sat down in a chair adjacent to her, planted his elbow on the table and let his head fall into his open palm. “I suppose I must let you go after all this trouble.”

  Harriet almost rose from her seat to hand him back his rope and his pistol, but something inside her shifted and demanded she do no such thing. She thought of Judith and the courage she had shown her entire life. She thought of Hardwick, whom she had also known for many years, the very one who had occasionally caused her heart to throb almost unbearably.

  She glanced at Cornelius. Hardwick might have several advantages over Cornelius, including size and intelligence, but she rather thought that the occupations of Hardwick’s life, as in going from mistress to mistress, were hardly better than Cornelius gambling away his allowance throughout the year.

  And now she heard her mother calling to her from across the street. “Harriet, my girl, where are you? Tis time to depart.”

  Bystanders turned and stared at her, but Mrs. Banwell gave a fig for nothing except her own interests.

  She didn’t even really care about her daughter, which was why Harriet turned to Cornelius and asked, “Where is Hardwick right now?”

  “Not far. He should be returning any moment. He was to have his nuncheon here.”

  “Would he be in the public room do you think? Even now?”

  “Probably. I do not wish to face him though. He gave me until two to square my debts. Apparently, one of my creditors approached him.”

  “Please go see if he is there and if he is tell him I wish to speak with him and you are to tell him that it is a matter of some urgency.”

  Cornelius lifted up his head, his arm falling away. “Harriet, what are you about? Whatever is wrong? Good God, is that your mama shouting your name in the street?”

  “Yes. Now please, go fetch Hardwick.”

  Cornelius looked perplexed. He glanced at the door then back at Harriet, at the rope and the pistol.

  She smiled. “Trust me, all will be well, but I must speak with your cousin.”

  He took one more bite off his cuticle. “Oh, very well. I suppose now you will be angry with me.”

  “No, Cornelius, not at all.”

  Harriet had spoken the truth. She wasn’t angry with Cornelius, just very disgusted, and not only with him. She had many objects in mind, one of them being herself. The other objects were all around her, including the tall, handsome man that Cornelius brought back with him.

  Of course it was all very well and good that the plan she had been forming made perfect sense in her mind, but the moment her gaze fell upon the viscount, a strange muddling took place in her head.

  He was quite tall, a full head above Cornelius. He had the clearest blue eyes she had ever seen and wore his dark brown hair in soft waves flowing away from his face, very different from the usual a la Brutus that most men she knew wore, with the hair cut short and swept forward in the Roman manner. Hardwick’s style was singular. She had even heard Cornelius refer to it as a la Hardwick.

  His shoulders were broad, filling out his coat of blue superfine without the smallest hint of buckram wadding. Cornelius’s tailor charged extra for the amount he used in any of his coats and not just the shoulders. His sunken chest was apparently a monumental problem, or so Cornelius had confided to her once.

  Hardwick wore buff pantaloons and elegant snug top boots. In his gaze, there was always a distinct expression of humor as though he’d been born laughing at the world.

  He was so much her ideal that she had to work to keep a blush from rising on her cheek.

  He glanced at the pistol and rope on her lap and lifted one brow, still apparently quite amused. “You wished to see me, Harriet?”

  “As it happens, I do. Your cousin is in the basket and is in need of funds.”

  “I have spoken to him about his debts but I have no idea why he would trouble you with them.”

  “Indeed, Harriet--” Cornelius began. His face had darkened but Harriet was not to be moved.

  She lifted a hand in his direction. “Enough, my friend. I will have my say.”

  Cornelius resumed chewing on his finger.

  Hardwick frowned. “What the devil is going on here?” His gaz
e once more fell to the pistol and rope.

  “Your cousin tried to kidnap me for the purpose of forcing my mother to pay two hundred pounds for my release.”

  Since at that moment, her dearest mama once more bellowed on the street for Harriet to return to the coach, Hardwick glanced out the window. “That woman would never pay two hundred pounds for anything.”

  “Precisely.”

  He moved into the room a little more to stare down at her. He then scowled at Cornelius. “What the deuce were you thinking?”

  “I was trying to pay off my debts so that you wouldn’t come the crab.”

  “By committing a hanging offense?”

  “Eh? That is what Harriet said, but I think it must be a hum. I would have released her. What harm would there have been then?”

  Hardwick glowered now, putting his hands behind his back. His jaw hardened. “I could thrash you for this absurd situation. You do understand that, do you not?”

  “But why should you?” Harriet intervened. She now rose to her feet and settled the pistol and rope on the table, not far from Cornelius. “I am convinced tis not your cousin’s fault at all, but rather yours.”

  “What?” He was visibly offended. “How can you lay this at my door?”

  “Oh, I am so happy you asked since I mean to tell you. Because you have neglected Cornelius all these years when it is clear to even a shatter-brained piglet that he worships the ground you walk on. If you had made the smallest attempt to harness some of his unfortunate habits, he would be doing better in the world. And shall I point out that a man who loses five hundred pounds in one game of cards is not fit to call the kettle black?” She gestured toward Cornelius.

  Cornelius looked around. “What kettle?”

  “I could not disagree with you more,” Hardwick retorted. “I never gamble but what I am able to pay.”

  Harriet lifted her chin. “Actually, Hardwick, I have no interest in listening to your rationale, and I certainly don’t give a fig whether you agree with me or not, but I do blame you for this absurd situation. So, unless you wish your crimes and your cousin’s attempted kidnapping laid before the local Constable, I have several demands.”