Verity and the Forbidden Suitor (The DuBells #2)

by J.J. McAvoy

Had my mother lived long enough to declare her such, she meant. But my mother did not even live five minutes after my birth, I was told. The thought of it all made my throat ache, but I did not want to look woeful before the marchioness, so I simply nodded.

“I cannot wait to see whom it will be that stirs your heart as well.” I laughed. “I wouldn’t give it much thought, Mar—Godmother.” “Oh dear, not one of you seeks to give me respite. First Aphrodite, now you.” She sighed deeply. “Whatever do you all believe the purpose of presenting yourselves to society is for if not to secure an advantageous marriage?”

“That is the danger of being sharp-witted,” I interrupted before she could apologize. “There is a tendency to speak without thought.”

“Reputable family, title, wit, and beauty. The two of us together will surely gather attention, and many will also come to congratulate and inquire about the union of our siblings. I expect no less than an unyielding two weeks of everyone’s full attention should we play our parts correctly. Along with my mother’s efforts, that will leave us the toast of the ton.”

I felt as though I had to keep a sword in one hand and a shield in the other just to endure a conversation with her.

Aphrodite, in a sense, is now all but the ruler of Everely, and while it will forever be your home, it is not your place. When you return, I doubt it will be the same as you left it. Which is why you must make a home for yourself.” She looked upon me, baffled. “Have you truly put no thought into the trajectory of your life?”

mama has always told me a good marriage is the greatest of all blessings. And I believe her, as she has proven it by example.” “Again, I do not doubt it. But how does one achieve it?” “As with all things I can only assume it is through effort,” she said. “If the idea of marriage alone does not inspire you to apply such effort then maybe you, like Aphrodite, can be moved by only one man.” “Who?” “How am I supposed to know that? You only get that answer by accepting the introductions, balls, and walks.” She grinned, rising to her feet as she clasped her hands together. “So, now our footing has been set. You and I will go to every possible event of the season to find our husbands.”

“You are keeping me, my lady.” It was what that physician…Dr. Darrington, had said to me before ever so rudely shutting the door in my face, within my own home, as he sought to treat

“So his father remarried? Why would that be troubling?” Granted, a year later was relatively soon. “The Marquess of Whitmear was never married before then,” she answered, and when I still stared at her, unable, or maybe unwilling, to put the two together, she said it clearly. “He is the marquess’s bastard.”

“It serves him right. Is he not the son of a baron?” one of them asked. “He reaches a bit too high with his standing for her.” And this was why. She was the daughter of a duke, and whether he was dead or not did not change the fact that she was at the very highest tier of all society and I…at the very lowest. To even have any sort of fondness for her was imprudent on my part.

It took all my strength not to yell as the rage poured into me from every direction. I held the brown glass vial in my left hand and the prescribed order in my right one, a list of ingredients including everything from mercury and laudanum to onion juice, among a host of other nonsense, all with the purpose of treating…height?

Nothing I could do or be would ever change the status of my birth for those like Lord Wyndham. A bastard, whether he saved the life of one noblewoman or a thousand…was still a bastard.

“I do not care what your status is. Whether you are titled or not, have estates and drawing rooms or not,” I whispered back. “I merely wish…I merely wish to be beside someone who makes me not search for the exits.”

“By God, who is that?” The magistrate rushed back out the door, as did I. The source of the commotion was growing even louder. “I took what was mine by right!” “I am the first—” “You are a bastard! The son of a butcher’s daughter! You have no right to Everely. You have no right to the nobility! We will not have you. The lot you were given was better than you deserved!”

“Verity, there are a thousand words I could use to describe my feelings for you. I dream of you night and day. You are everything to me,” he whispered, his hand upon my waist as he turned me to face him. “I came here because nothing in this world is greater than my desire for you. I am prepared to fight anyone who stands in my way—to my dying breath.”

“What good is it for you to be angry at me and not get to show it? Should you be my wife, you could yell at me to your heart’s content.”

“I am in love with her!” I hollered beyond the point of containment. “And as a man who barged into a ball despite being stabbed, as a man who rode into a storm still with fever, you better than anyone else should understand that I simply cannot walk away from her. Do you not think everything you have said has not crossed my mind as well? Do you not think I tried to distance myself? I did. And failed. And in that failure, I realized my love for her was worth risking my life, my sanity, even my reputation, the same as you did.” I took a deep breath. “Nothing you say or do has power over me, Your Grace. Only she does now.”