Nicola Cornick - The Chaperon Bride

Annis sounded genuinely puzzled.

“Because I wanted to.” Adam shifted a little, releasing her. He felt bereft without the touch of her hand. “And also because I was afraid that if I asked you first you would say that it was inappropriate for a chaperon to be kissed. And I would like to do it again.”

“Oh, no.” Now she took several decided steps back. “I am no easy entertainment for a rake.”

“I hardly thought so, and I have told you I am no rake. I do not make a habit of kissing chaperons. In the main they are too old and unattractive.” A flash of sheer masculine triumph went through him as he saw the struggle she had with her own feelings and desires. He waited.

Determination gave Annis strength to her tone. “I have a position to maintain, my lord, and I shall not compromise it further.”

The Chaperon Bride

Harlequin Historical

Lady Allerton’s Wager

“A charming, enjoyable read.”

—Romantic Times

“Ms. Cornick has managed to pack a whole lot of mystery and humor in this highly romantic and fast-paced story and is nothing short of a pure delight to read.”

—Writers Unlimited

“The Rake’s Bride” in The Love Match

“Through vivid detail, the author firmly establishes time and place for her rollicking tug-of-war.”

—Publishers Weekly

The Virtuous Cyprian

“…this delightful tale of a masquerade gone awry will delight ardent Regency readers.”

—Romantic Times

“A witty, hilarious romp through the Regency period.”

—Rendezvous

#691 COLORADO COURTSHIP

Carolyn Davidson

#693 THE LIGHTKEEPER’S WOMAN

Mary Burton

#694 THE WEDDING KNIGHT

Joanne Rock

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

June 1816

The coach from Leeds drew into the yard of the Hope Inn at Harrogate in the late afternoon and disgorged a number of passengers. Although it was still quite early in the season, the spa villages of High and Low Harrogate were starting to fill up with visitors coming to take the health-giving waters and on this occasion there were seven new arrivals. First to descend was a family of four: mother, father, a boy of about sixteen and a girl a year or so older, both with smiling faces and a lively interest in what was going on around them. Next descended an elderly lady wrapped up in a vast shawl and attended by a solicitous young man who might or might not have been her nephew. The other arrival was Annis, Lady Wycherley, carrying a small leather case and dressed in practical black bombazine and an unbecoming bonnet.

Annis Wycherley was not a newcomer to Harrogate, for she had been born near the town and had spent many happy holidays there with her cousins during the times that her papa had been on leave from the navy. The late Captain Lafoy had even bought a small estate out towards Skipton, which Annis had inherited almost a decade before and visited whenever she had the opportunity. She was not in Harrogate as often as she would like, however. Her employment, as a chaperon to spoilt society misses, took her to London or Brighton or Bath, although this latter was considered rather déclassé these days, a shabby genteel place that was not popular with the fashionable crowd. Harrogate, with its romantic setting in the wilds of nowhere, its unpleasantly smelling but healthful spa waters and its rustic northern charm, was fast becoming the new Bath in the eyes of the ton.

Annis, espying her cousin Charles in the crowd thronging the inn yard, hurried across and gave him an affectionate hug. He hugged her back, then held her at arm’s length, looking her over dubiously but with a twinkle in his very blue eyes.

‘Annis, whatever have you done to yourself?’

Annis gave a little giggle. ‘Dear Charles, it is lovely to see you too! I collect that your horror stems from seeing me in my chaperon’s attire? I always dress the part, you know.’

‘It puts years on you.’ Charles gave the black bombazine a bemused look and frowned at the bonnet. ‘Lord, Annis, it’s wonderful to see you again, but I barely recognised you!’

‘You know that it is always a mistake to travel in your best clothes. You end up either mud spattered or dusty. Besides, as a professional chaperon I cannot look too elegant.’

‘No danger of that.’ Charles tried to hide his grin. ‘Was the journey good?’

‘A little precipitate,’ Annis said. ‘I suppose that is why the coach is called the Tally Ho? The driver certainly seemed to take that to heart!’

‘I would have sent the carriage to Leeds for you, you know,’ Charles said, gesturing to a smart black chaise that stood in the corner of the yard. ‘It would have been no trouble.’

‘There was no need,’ Annis said cheerfully. ‘I am accustomed to travelling on the stage.’ She waved at the family of four as the landlord escorted them inside the inn. ‘Dear Mr and Mrs Fairlie…Amelia…James…I shall hope to see you all at the Promenade Rooms before long.’

‘You make friends easily,’ Charles observed as the couple bowed and smiled in return.

‘One must beguile the long journey somehow, you know, and they were a very pleasant family. Not like that young man over there…’ Annis nodded across at the young gentleman who was helping the elderly lady up into a barouche. ‘I am sure he is after her money, Charles. If I hear that she has passed away, I shall be most suspicious!’

‘Annis!’

‘Oh, I am only joking,’ Annis said hastily, remembering belatedly that her cousin could be a bit of a high stickler. ‘Pay no attention! Now you…are you well? And Sibella?’

‘I am very well indeed.’ Charles grinned. ‘Sib is flourishing. She and David are expecting their fourth, you know.’

‘I had heard.’ Annis smiled, tucking her arm through his. ‘She has been very busy whilst you and I, Charles, have let the family down sadly! You are not even married and I only look after other peoples’ children!’

Charles laughed and patted her hand where it rested on his sleeve. ‘Plenty of time for the rest of us. But it is fortunate Sibella did not come to meet you, Annis. She would have disowned you as soon as look at you!’

‘Sibella is lucky in that she can indulge herself as a lady of fashion.’ Annis looked around for her trunks. ‘I am obliged to work for my living. Nevertheless I am grateful to you for swallowing the family pride and coming to meet me, Charles. I know I do you no credit!’

Charles laughed again. ‘It was shock, that is all. I barely recognised you in all that frumpish black. You used to be such a good-looking girl…’

Annis gave him a sharp nudge. ‘You used to be quite handsome yourself! Where did it all go wrong, Charles?’

Charles Lafoy was in fact a very good-looking man, as most of the female population of Harrogate would testify. Like his sister Sibella, he had the fair, open features of the Lafoys, the honest blue eyes and engaging smile. As lawyer to Harrogate’s most prosperous merchant, Samuel Ingram, he had a prestigious position in village society. There was no shortage of inn servants queuing up to help his groom put Annis’s luggage in the carriage. Everyone knew that Mr Lafoy always tipped most generously.