A Scandalous Plan

By Donna Lea Simpson

Strong-willed and intelligent, Lady Theresa is tired of spending her days listening to the gossipy village spinsters talk about the mysterious gentleman who just moved into the village. Known to be headstrong, and happily unattached, she takes it upon herself to call on the new resident and find out if the awful rumors about his family are true.

The Honourable Mr. Martindale welcomes life as a recluse. A widower, he’s made his fortune and now hopes to dedicate his time to working the land and raising his two young children—free of interference from the locals. When Lady Theresa comes marching up to his door, it’s the last thing Martindale wants, a husband hunter who thinks she can tell him how to raise his children and, worse, how he should comport himself.

Yet before long Lady Theresa has worked her way into Martindale’s quiet life and hatched an outrageous plan to win the village’s approval for both the man and his unusual children. But what she fails to see is how badly the plan could backfire, or how it could jeopardize her own place in a family she has come to cherish—and in the heart of the man she has come to love.

This novella was originally published under the title “A Father’s Love.”

"This was a beautifully written story, and if you enjoy authors such as Stephanie Lawrence then you will enjoy this author."
—Hayley Bawden

"Perfection. This love story is everything you could want in a traditional Regency romance!" —Cali Linfor, Goodreads

About the Author:

Donna Lea Simpson is a nationally bestselling romance and mystery novelist with over twenty titles published in the last eleven years. Besides writing romance and mystery novels and reading the same, Donna has a long list of passions: cats and tea, cooking and vintage cookware, cross-stitching and watercolor painting among them. She lives in Canada.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Beyond the Page Publishing
• Release date: May 29, 2013
• ISBN: 9781937349738

Donna Lea Simpson

Donna Lea Simpson is a nationally bestselling romance and mystery novelist with over twenty titles published in the last eleven years. An early love for the novels of Jane Austen and Agatha Christie was a portent of things to come; Donna believes that a dash of mystery adds piquancy to a romantic tale, and a hint of romance adds humanity to a mystery story. Besides writing romance and mystery novels and reading the same, Donna has a long list of passions: cats and tea, cooking and vintage cookware, cross-stitching and watercolor painting among them. Karaoke offers her the chance to warble Dionne Warwick tunes, and nature is a constant source of comfort and inspiration. A long walk is her favorite exercise, and a fruity merlot is her drink of choice when the tea is all gone. Donna lives in Canada.The best writing advice, Donna believes, comes from the letters of Jane Austen. That author wrote, in an October 26, 1813, letter to her sister, Cassandra, “I am not at all in a humor for writing; I must write on till I am.” So true! But Donna is usually in a good humor for writing!

Book preview

Cover

Books by Donna Lea Simpson

Lady Anne and the Howl in the Dark

Revenge of the Barbary Ghost

Curse of the Gypsy

The Viscount’s Valentine

A Rogue’s Rescue

A Scandalous Plan

Title Page

Copyright

A Scandalous Plan

Donna Lea Simpson

This novella was first published under the title A Father’s Love in the anthology A Match for Papa by Kensington/Zebra in 2003, copyright © 2003 by Donna Lea Simpson.

Beyond the Page edition copyright © 2013 by Donna Lea Simpson.

Cover design and illustration by Dar Albert, Wicked Smart Designs

Published by Beyond the Page at Smashwords

Beyond the Page Books

are published by

Beyond the Page Publishing

www.beyondthepagepub.com

ISBN: 978-1-937349-73-8

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

About the Author

One

I think it is hideous that Mr. Martindale is trying to foist that child off on polite society instead of decently placing him with some family that can be paid to decently take care of it in their own home. Mrs. Greavely, the acknowledged village gossip, spoke emphatically, her jowls waggling as a string of spittle flew and hit the candelabra.

Lady Theresa counted the times the woman used decently in her speech and added it to the five hundred and thirty-four times she had used it previously through the long years of their acquaintance. The total was now five hundred and thirty-six. She also made a note to herself to have the servants pay special attention to the spit-daubed candelabra.

Miss Tratt stared, her gooseberry eyes wide with disapproval. The poor creature is all about in the head, it’s true, but why does that mean he must be sent away from his family?

Lady Theresa would have been impressed by the spinster’s compassion had she not believed that the woman was only taking the hitherto unknown Mr. Martindale’s side—that mysterious gentleman who had just rented Meadowlark Mansion on the far edge of the village of St. Mark-on-Locke—because Mrs. Greavely had come down against him. Miss Tratt had a long-standing grievance with Mrs. Greavely and always took whatever side was opposed to her.

The three ladies, among whom at thirty-one Lady Theresa was the youngest by a couple of decades at least, sat in a parlor of the big house, as the villagers called Lady Theresa’s home, a lovely old mansion set in the Somersetshire countryside. No one called it Galatea’s Garden House, the awkward if picturesque name her mother had many years before tried to make stick.

What is wrong with the child? Lady Theresa asked, frowning down at the piece of needlework she was doing, a tapestry that would eventually be framed and raffled at the harvest festival in September. It was supposed to be a lovely little conceit on the house name, a depiction of Galatea hiding in the willows, but it was not working out. She was a competent needlewoman, but this may have been a bit ambitious for her abilities. It looked lopsided.

Mrs. Greavely leaned forward over her own needlework, a surprisingly lush silk-embroidered seascape, expertly rendered, and said, He is demented, of course. He makes odd noises, doesn’t talk at all otherwise, and he has his own odd . . . well, for want of a better word, ‘nurseman,’ a strong-armed fellow who looks like he used to be a seaman, to keep the idiot. Who knows of what the boy is capable! We could all be murdered in our beds!

There was a bloodthirsty gleam in the woman’s eyes. Miss Tratt looked like she wanted to ask for more details, but her enmity with the other woman prevented her.

Theresa tossed aside her work. I think we have done enough for one day, haven’t we, ladies? Disgusted and unsettled by the ghoulish Mrs. Greavely, she wanted to be alone for a while.

Disconcerted but obedient to the foremost lady in the village, the two women trotted off in separate directions.

It was a gorgeous June day, but Theresa restlessly roamed the house, the long dark halls and the ancient chapel, the small turret rooms and the new wing, now three hundred years old and only new in appellation.

What was wrong with her? She had no patience anymore and could not bear the tittle-tattle of gossip, nor the small-minded backbiting inevitable in a closed village society. In past years, she had been able to balance the spiteful venom of the few against the genuine goodness of most of the citizens of St. Mark-on-Locke.

From an upstairs window she spied her papa coming back from the horse stables and descended the stairs, accosting him in the hallway and twining her long arms around his rotund waist, leaning her head on his shoulder. He patted her arm, made uneasy, she could tell, by her outpouring of affection.

What is it, poppet? The old biddies got you down again? I saw them leave, or I wouldn’t have come in yet.

It’s not them. I’m bored and restless.

You’re always like that when we come back from the London season, all that gaiety, balls and so forth. Takes a while to settle into the village routine, my dear.

It’s not just that, Papa. A sudden daring scheme entered her head. Would it be horribly impolite if I were to call on the new resident of Meadowlark Mansion before you do?

Yes, though I needn’t have answered, for you know the answer as well as I; a lady must never call first on a stranger, before her father or husband or brother, et cetera. So I must assume that was a rhetorical question and you mean to be guided by your own wishes anyway, as you usually do.

She straightened as they walked into the great hall. Lighter of heart, she headed to the stairs leading to the family chambers in the west turret, throwing one mischievous glance over her shoulder. How well you know me, Father. I do like to stir things up, don’t I? It is why no one wants to marry me despite my many charms.

Now you are talking nonsense.

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