Betrothed
BETROTHED
Windemere Hall Trilogy
Book One
Victorian Villains Gothic Romance
§
CATHERINE LLOYD
Copyright 2015 Catherine Lloyd
Electronic Edition 2016
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Table of Contents
BETROTHED
Also by Catherine Lloyd
From the Publisher
BETROTHED
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
About the Author
Mandrake Falls Four Seasons Romance
Dark Redeemer Medieval Adventure Romance
Also by Catherine Lloyd
Mandrake Falls Four Seasons Romance
The Jilting ~ Summer
Lie for Me ~ Autumn
The Way Home ~ Winter
Love Rising ~ Spring
Dark Redeemer Medieval Adventure Romance
Wanton
Wastrel
Traitor
Soldier
From the Publisher
Shy, stammering Clara Hamilton is shocked when her father announces her betrothal to a cousin she barely knows. Her uncle’s stepson, Branson Hamilton is handsome, avaricious and rumoured to be unstable. Nineteen-year-old Clara, anxious for her father’s approval, agrees to the union unaware of what is at stake. A sinister family secret surfaces and Clara soon discovers that master of Windemere Hall has a dark revenge in store when she enters into his power.
Betrothed is the first episode in the Windemere Hall Trilogy and launches Catherine Lloyd’s Victorian Villains Gothic Romance Serials. Steamy gothic romance in the tradition of Phyllis A. Whitney and Victoria Holt, they are set in 1867 Victorian England. The novellas will be released in installments like the “penny dreadfuls” of the Age. Each episode ends in a cliff-hanger. These are steamy romances containing scenes, language and themes written for a mature audience.
Windemere Hall Trilogy: Book One
BETROTHED
§
Chapter One
St. James Place, London – September 1867
THERE WERE few enough young gentlemen courting Clara Hamilton in the months preceding her father’s financial embarrassment. After the accusations of embezzlement starting pouring in, there were none.
She sat in a straight-backed chair near the window where her father had declared the light was the most flattering, and paid keen attention to Arthur Hamilton’s every word—even though every word was frightening her half to death.
Young ladies must strive for grace, ease, and charm if they are to please their fathers and attract the notice of eligible suitors, Arthur was saying.
“It is simply a matter of putting your mind to it.”
Clara nodded rapidly. She would keep her hands folded in her lap and not twist them into knots signalling her anxiety. She vowed to remain poised throughout the visit. She would not disappoint. She understood how crucial today was of all days to make a good impression. Her father’s trouble was too pressing to be lightly passed over. Although the scandal had been kept out of the newspapers, Clara was aware if rescue did not come soon, all would be lost.
For this reason—the embarrassment and the blot on the family name—Arthur Hamilton was forced to entertain an offer of marriage from a man he disliked and distrusted.
Clara nodded again. Her hands strained against her control. Calm yourself. Remember Doctor Hargreaves’s solution for when one got into difficulty. Recite the alphabet. A-B-C—
“Clara, have you heard a word I’ve said? Specifically, your cousin, Branson desires your hand in marriage and I expect you to comply with my wishes and accept him. The scoundrel is either unaware of your affliction or else he has something up his sleeve. The question is do you think you can manage to get through the interview without breaking out in that infernal stutter?”
Arthur was already exasperated and she hadn’t said a word. Clara’s speech impediment drove Papa to distraction. She developed the affliction at the age of twelve and it had proven to be yet another barrier to gaining her father’s love.
“Good God, Father, you make this betrothal sound like she’s a housemaid applying for a position.” Edgar Hamilton turned his gaze on his sister. “I knew Branson in school. Bit of a dark horse. The rumour is he’s unstable. Don’t cross him, that sort of thing. He’s not an easy man to know or to like if I’m honest. But becoming his wife will not be a fate worse than death. Don’t let father frighten you.”
She loved her brother dearly but Arthur had already frightened her by springing this suitor on her and then pressing her to accept his offer of marriage. Clara desperately wanted to make her father happy but her estranged cousin coming to London for the purpose of asking for her hand was a heavy trial on her newly recovered nerves.
Branson Reilly-Hamilton.
Branson Hamilton was not a real Hamilton in the sense that he was not related to them by blood. He was the stepson of Arthur’s elder brother, Leonard. The move to make the connection a legal one came after Branson’s mother died when he was sixteen. Ida Reilly had been the love of Leonard Hamilton’s life. The inveterate bachelor fell hard for lovely widow after their first meeting. Mrs. Reilly was a lowly milliner with a son twelve years of age, neither of which deterred Leonard Hamilton from asking for her hand. They were married within the week and mother and son installed at Windemere Hall.
But it was bestowing the ancient family name on his stepson that sent Arthur Hamilton into fits of apoplexy. He strongly objected to a milliner’s son being placed on the same social footing as his son, Edgar. Arthur accused the lad of having ambitions above his station and manipulating his stepfather for his own gain.
The Hamilton brothers had a fierce row about it. Leonard was unable to convince Arthur that he wanted Branson to have his name and Arthur was unable to respect his older brother’s wishes.
They fell out and rarely spoke to each other after that. When Leonard Hamilton died, the London branch of the family was shocked to learn that the family estate, Windemere Hall, had been bequeathed to Branson Reilly-Hamilton.
“His name is Branson Reilly. I don’t care what the villain calls himself. The fellow is not a real Hamilton.”
Arthur grumbled and paced and wondered how he was going to finesse this meeting to his advantage.
“Not the least of my issues is the loss of Windemere Hall. This marriage might be our only chance to recover what is ours from that grasping, avaricious scoundrel. This so-called nephew of mine has inherited the estate, taken possession as master, and lives like a king from the toil of the Hamilton family—who are his betters in every way—and does he acknowledge the debt or repay us with any degree of respect?” Arthur thundered. “That it has come to this—that I must give away my only daughter for the privilege of using what was mine by right! The Hamilton fortune was to go to Edgar!”
“Perhaps this b-b-betrothal will bring an end to the animosity between our two families,” Clara replied haltingly. Her father’s temper
was getting the better of him. She cringed at the thought of Branson walking into a room boiling with resentment and then asking for her hand. “If he is willing to marry me, doesn’t that suggest our cousin is desirous to earn your g-g-good opinion, Father?”
“Yes, yes, perhaps. I would not admit him to the house otherwise.” Arthur pulled on his beard and waved abstractedly. “The point is how are we to take our property back from the usurper with this marriage? That is what I want to know.”
He turned to Clara’s brother with a demand for answers in his face.
Edgar tried to look as though he was seriously considering the problem but her brother had his own axe to grind.
“I do not understand why Uncle Leonard did not name me as next in line. He ought to have done as I was his blood relation and I had done nothing to displease him. I like Branson well enough, in fact, I think I was the only friend he had at Oxford, poor devil—but he is not a gentleman. He hasn’t the native intelligence to manage an estate as lucrative as Windemere. He’ll run the thing into the ground. I would have kept my cousin on as manager if I’d been asked, no difficulty there. Branson would do well with a strong lead. But to be cut out of the will without a word of explanation! I am angry, Father. The last thing I want is for my sister to be wed to the fellow and see him gain even more wealth from our family. You’ll settle her with a yearly allowance—I daresay that’s what Branson has his eye on.”
“If he does, he’s in for a rude shock. There will be no allowance because there is no money.”
Arthur turned away and Clara and Edgar exchanged an uneasy look behind his back.
“How can that be, Father?” Clara ventured timidly. “You are so c-clever in business.”
“You know the trouble I am in! None of which is my fault. If I’d had the Hamilton fortune to fall back on, I would not have had to resort to extreme measures to keep my daughter in dresses and trips to private doctors for rest cures!” He glared at Clara who crimsoned.
“The charge of embezzlement is completely false,” continued Arthur in a huff. “One does not embezzle from one’s own company—it was a loan. Unfortunately, the board disagreed. As it happens, I need Branson’s backing to keep the chairman from calling the bailiff. I was exceedingly reluctant to accept your cousin’s offer, but if the funds are not restored to the firm’s accounts by the first of October, we will be bankrupt, and worse.”
Edgar pounded his fist. “It is Hamilton capital he’ll be using to invest! Can’t you see what he’s doing? Branson has convinced you he is doing you a favour when in fact he is taking your daughter and half your business! You’ll be in his power, Father. From what I hear at the Exchange, my cousin is ruthless when it comes to making money. He’s heavily invested in Britain’s railway boom; his power and wealth grows daily. You’ll be placing the firm in a very precarious position by taking him on as a shareholder.”
“I’d agree with you, Edgar, if that is all the villain would be; but as my son-in-law, my interests will be Branson’s interests. Don’t you see? This wedding will keep the devil in check.”
Arthur turned to Clara who had been listening to the exchange with mounting anxiety. Her father’s reputation and the future of the firm depended entirely on her betrothal to Branson Hamilton leading to marriage.
This is why her mother had taken to her bed.
In the wake of this financial catastrophe, not even Arthur could induce his wife to leave her room. Clara had little strength herself upon hearing the terrible news. She feared that all the good Dr. Hargreaves had done for her was about to be undone.
“If Branson Reilly seeks to entrench himself in the Hamilton family, I am willing to oblige the fellow on the condition that we are given access to his capital. Quid pro quo. And we must be realistic about Clara’s chances of making a good marriage if left to her own devices. As much as it grieves me to say it, dearest, you are not in a position to turn down offers—even from miscreants such as Mr. Reilly.”
Arthur closed his lips tightly and blinked in her direction with a look that suggested she had failed him on purpose.
Clara reddened and fixed her eyes on her hands, willing them to remain still. She was deeply ashamed of her breakdown and subsequent rest cure. Father had gone to great expense to place her in the care of Dr. Hargreaves, a specialist in cures for women suffering from nervous disorders. His methods were successful, but Clara was horrified to discover the financial burden she had placed on her family.
Marrying Branson Reilly was a small price to pay to win her father’s approval. She’d always fallen short of the mark—but not this time.
“Father, you mistake me. I do not object to the arrangement. I’ve been a disappointment to you, I know, but I am well now and if we c-c-could be friends again, I should be the happiest of d-d-daughters.” A sheen of perspiration collected at her hairline.
“Yes, yes,” said Arthur impatiently. “If you want to make me happy, for God’s sake, don’t start that stammering nonsense around your cousin. You’ll drive him away. It’s best if you don’t say anything at all. Your looks will have to suffice. Such as they are.”
She coloured to the roots of her hair and lapsed into silence.
“You’re all right, Clara.” Edgar winked. “Father is a bear with a sore head this morning. Don’t let him frighten you. I expect Branson Reilly has his own reasons for asking for your hand that have little to do with business.”
At that moment, the door opened and the downstairs maid entered followed closely by a tall, fine-looking man that Clara scarcely recognized.
“Mr. Branson Hamilton, sir.”
BRANSON STEPPED boldly into the room and gazed at their astonished faces. His uncle and cousin Edgar gaped. The drawing room of the Hamilton house in London was rather fine, one of the prettiest and brightest in the city despite the recent reversals in Arthur Hamilton’s finances. But there was an air of retrained tension in the three assembled when he walked in.
The men roused themselves to greet him but the young woman seated near the window fixed her gaze on the floor.
Branson groaned inwardly and steeled himself for her disdain. The girl must be his betrothed, his cousin Clara. Seven years had passed since their last meeting and from her chilly greeting he surmised she was less than pleased with the arrangement.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the maid said. “The gentleman would not wait for an invitation but insisted on coming straight in.”
“That is quite all right, Tilly. Mr. Reilly knows we don’t stand on ceremony here. You may leave us—and close the door, if you please.”
Edgar was the first to collect his wits. “Hello, Branson. You look well. Did you have a pleasant journey from Somerset?”
“I had a pleasant journey from Windemere Hall if that’s what you mean.” He turned his cold stare on Arthur. “My name is Hamilton, sir. Branson Hamilton. Reilly was my mother’s name.”
“And your father’s presumably, unless you were born out of wedlock. Your mother never said and my brother decided it was none of our business thus preventing inquiry. However, it is all water under the bridge now, eh? My brother gave you our family name so that is how I will address you in future.”
“You do me honour.” Branson bowed stiffly for appearances sake. His manner was polite but utterly lacking in affection or respect.
Branson Hamilton turned to his silent cousin. “Shall I wait to be presented to my betrothed or can I rely on your assertion that you do not stand on ceremony and introduce myself? Miss Clara Hamilton.”
He gave a short bow. She returned his greeting with a slight nod and looked away. Branson ground his teeth. “We are cousins but I hope we shall soon be more to each other.”
Her blood rose to her face and it seemed to Branson that Clara Hamilton had to summon great courage to meet his eyes.
“It is delightful to make your ac-c-quaintance again, M-m-m—”
“Oh for God’s sake, spit it out, girl!” Arthur exploded. “We haven’t got all da
y.”
Branson frowned. He’d heard his cousin was in the care of a private doctor, but he assumed the cause was not serious. Fashionable young ladies were prone to spells that rarely amounted to much. “You must call me Branson. I am pleased to make your acquaintance though we have met before. Do you remember?”
“Branson,” she said in a small voice as though trying it out. She smiled a rather pretty smile that animated her features. Her hands relaxed. “I remember. You were twelve and I was five and Edgar was thirteen. I wanted to join in your game but Edgar wouldn’t allow it. You kindly tolerated my interference for an hour or more before I was called away by my mother.”
“You have a wonderful memory. I don’t recall half of that but I am glad I did not make a poor first impression.”
There had been another meeting seven years later, when Clara was twelve, but Branson would not risk reminding her of it and show his hand so soon. His nineteen-year-old cousin had not grown to be a great beauty, a factor that worked in his favour. The ease with which his scheme was coming together made it seemed divinely ordered. He turned to his uncle.
“I should like to set the wedding day as soon as possible if that is all right with you, Uncle. Within the month is what I had in mind. The ceremony will be held at the chapel on the Windemere estate—with your approval, of course.” He nodded, politely.
Arthur responded enthusiastically. “That would be most suitable.” The older man pulled on his beard. “However, there is one small condition: there will be no marriage allowance forthcoming. I should make that clear from the outset. I cannot see my way clear to settling Clara with even a pound note. I trust her social position will be compensation enough.”