The Title She Wanted

By Alea Rose

Bliss Eddington's life is nothing like any of her peers in England. Her father's love enables her to have title, wealth and independence, or so she believes until her season begins, and the search for a suitable groom is underway. Incensed, Bliss is determined to prove that independence is better than love. Being the independent but proverbial old maid will be a happier road for her future than being the bauble on a husband's arm. Instead, she begins a journey that teaches her the two aren't mutually exclusive, when the best available help in her quest to prove her point is a handsome American man who agrees to help her show her father the reasons that marriage isn't the key to Bliss' happiness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alea Rose
• Release date: May 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311450890

Alea Rose

Alea writes historical, contemporary and sci-fi romances, some with more erotic content. Her stories always revolve around intrigue, mystery or a psychological plot.Alea lives in the Southeast United States, within a stone's throw of the Atlantic Ocean. She happily writes books full-time. When she isn't writing, she enjoys travel, spending time with family and friends and relaxing with a nice glass of wine.Coupons for discounts on books through Smashwords can be found by sending friend requests to Alea Rose on Facebook.

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Chapter 1

Bliss Eddington purposely scorned the young men who worked so hard to gain her attention on the night of her first formal ball as a young lady in London. Many a would be suitor’s eyes had raked over her, sizing her up like she was nothing more than a prized trophy to be carted off to some drawing room in the ton. And despite the best efforts of her mother and father to assure that her formal introduction to high society—to her very coronation into womanhood—was wildly successful, Bliss wanted no part of it.

I intend to never obey any man! she’d announced to the first wave of gentlemen surrounding her. Why should I?

Because it is a command of God that a wife obeys her husband! the first in a long line of dismayed hopefully prospective husbands announced. Our Lord requires that a wife be submissive to her husband.

Bliss laughed with genuine glee. Whatever makes you believe I would wish a husband? Surely you know the wealth of my father. And I, as his sole heir, have no need of a man to provide for my needs. What use do I have for a man to control me?

He’d stormed away from her, red faced and huffing. Bliss grinned slyly. She fluttered her long eyelashes, feeling every bit the deadly asp who would ensnare men just long enough for a fatal bite. At the rate she was going, it wouldn’t be long before her ill temperament would ripple through the circles of all the gossip mongers and she would be free of this ritual. Garrett Eddington would believe whatever she told him. He was her father after all, and had doted on her every whim her entire life. Oh yes, he was determined to see her happily married off to some man sworn to adore her for as long as they both should live, but Bliss knew better. The only man she could ever love without condition was her kindly old father. All others had an agenda—one that only pretended interest in her while really setting their sights on her father’s heavy purse. So she would go through the motions to please Garrett, but he would quickly see that no man wanted his daughter and let the matter drop.

Her father was a hopeless romantic in two areas of his life alone—Bliss and her mother Liss—a shortened version of her full name Alissa. As far as his business acumen was concerned, he was ruthless. Bliss had learned a great deal from him by example. The Duke of Wexham fell toward the top age of the eight legitimate children of the King George III—with no prospect of rule, but all the ruthless instinct and talent of financial council to the crown and his siblings. Garrett Eddington, despite lacking the Hanover name, was in fact, a half brother of the current Monarch, and the former who had first served as Prince Regent before ascension to the throne. With no pressure on Garrett to produce an heir, he married at the age of fifty, and welcomed his only child at the age of fifty–one. For eighteen years, Bliss and Liss were the only true loves in his life. Now for some odd and unknowable reason to Bliss, her father had set his sights on seeing his only issue married before he died.

She wanted no part of it.

You have a most unladylike scowl, Bliss, Cassandra Wilson sighed. How will you ever find a proper husband if you can’t even force the tiniest smile for these handsome gentlemen?

Bliss stared dumbfounded at her best, and truly only close friend. Have you heard not a single thing I’ve had to say about all of this? I don’t want a husband. I don’t need a husband, and I will not cooperate with any of Father’s misguided attempts to force one upon me!

He’s old… and ill. Would you really deny your father his dying wish? Cassandra tried to cajole a better attitude from her friend. Besides, Bliss… my sister says that marriage can be most pleasurable with the right man.

Bah! she snorted. Fun for a husband, I have no doubt. But what fun is it for the wife, to have no say in any decision and to be forced to obey? I’ve had my belly full of obedience as a child, Cassie. It is my absolute intention to remain unmarried for the rest of my life. I love my father, but I will not trade one master for another! Even if it is his dying wish.

I wish you wouldn’t say such things, Cassandra fretted. Someone is bound to hear you and go straight to the Duke. You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t take a switch to your backside for intentionally putting off all these gentlemen, Bliss. You know you cannot remain unmarried forever anyhow. Why not take advantage of having the cream of London’s crop courting you?

One gently curved eyebrow arched high on Bliss's forehead. If I did not know you better, Cassie, I would think your words were laced with jealousy. However, since I am leaving all of this to your good hands, I realize that your protest of my behavior is yet another example of how women have succumbed to this ridiculous notion that we must marry to be happy. She lowered her voice. Besides, Cassie, I happen to know that a woman need not marry to find her pleasure.

Oh! Cassandra cried out, horrified. Are you saying that you’ve… Bliss, your father might be old, but he will kill any man who might compromise your virtue!

Keep your voice down! Bliss hissed. I didn’t mean that! I just meant that perhaps it’s enough for a woman to be in control of her own life, without a man, or a husband or father ordering her every action. Thanks to my father, I have more money than I could spend in two life times, and I don’t need a husband to manage what I have.

He will never allow that, Cassie predicted. If he favored it, why would he be sponsoring an entire season of parties that we all know exists for the sole purpose of finding you a proper husband? Please tell me that you don’t truly believe he’s merely going through the motions, Bliss. I know he has indulged your every whim before now, but surely you don’t believe he’ll just let this drop. His brother is the king after all.

Half–brother, and yes, he will relent, she predicted. I love my father, and he loves me too. All I must do is convince him that this notion of marriage will make me miserable, and if there are no suitors that want me all the better. If one or two of them should have such strong sights set on my inheritance, I shall rely on my lack of happiness to force Father to let me be free.

And if you find love? Cassandra wondered aloud.

Bliss's eyes wandered across the room to where her father doted on her mother in a most public manner. Her gaze hardened. I simply do not believe such a thing exists.

*~*~*~*~*~*

This is not going as I had hoped, Garrett murmured to his beloved wife Liss. Half the young men in attendance have abandoned all hope where our darling daughter’s hand is concerned. I simply do not understand why.

She is young, Garrett. I was not much younger than she is now when I met you. It’s a frightening time for a young lady.

He chuckled softly. Liss, you were not the least bit fearful of marriage or me for that matter. And our daughter doesn’t have a frightened bone in her body. No, this is all my doing. I have been too lenient with the girl her entire life. But look at her, Liss. How could I deny her anything?

Let me speak with her, Garrett. We’ll need a moment of privacy, Liss assured him. I’ll get her to stop chasing all of these wonderful young men away from her, you have my word.

The Duchess of Wexham barely looked old enough to be the mother of an adult daughter, even if Bliss barely qualified as such. Married to the Duke at the age of sixteen, she had given birth to her daughter less than a year later. She was still by rights a very young woman herself. Pride carried her petite frame as though she stood at least a head taller than all her peers.

As Bliss watched her approaching, it occurred to her that she perhaps had this impression of her mother being a giant from more than her enormous arrogance. It was likely the massive quantity of hair carefully arranged on the top of her mother’s head. Her mother was curvaceous and seemed to delight in showing off her endowments to more than just Bliss's father. Her scowl intensified. Save me from this wretched woman, she hissed to Cassandra.

Without giving it another thought, Cassie grabbed the arm of the nearest gentleman, the son or perhaps distant nephew by marriage of the Earl of Denton and said, Sir, my lady is too shy to say, but she must share this dance with you.

He didn’t hesitate, just pulled Bliss into his arms, holding her tighter than any other gentleman might’ve dared and swept her away.

Was that your doing, Cassandra? Liss chuckled.

I fear that she has less desire to speak with you right now than she does accepting a proper suitor.

Liss's face hardened in the wake of such a cold and blunt pronouncement. I see. Am I to assume that my daughter has shared the reason for her avoidance of me as well?

Cassandra was no liar, but her loyalty to Bliss forced a lie of omission. I, Your Grace, do not speak of such matters without the benefits of privacy.

Gray blue eyes grew impossibly colder, glittering with an unspoken threat. My daughter has chosen a companion of discretion and wisdom, I see. Let us agree then, for the sake of dearest Bliss that you speak of what she tells you to no one, Cassandra. She may find herself in a most unfortunate circumstance should she challenge me and spread her venom to anyone else. Never doubt that I have the Duke’s ear, and that he will respect my wishes above all others, including Bliss's. If she continues to defy my wishes, she may find herself married to the man of my choosing, and I promise you, it will be a most unhappy match!

Cassandra bowed her head in respect though her eyes betrayed a feeling far less than deferential. As you wish, Your Grace. And if I may be so helpful as to encourage Bliss to choose well for herself, I would consider it an honor.

I’m sure you would, Liss replied haughtily. Nonetheless, the ultimate decision will remain the Duke’s. It would do Bliss well to remember that, and also who holds the greatest influence with him.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Is it coyness that keeps you from even noticing me?

Bliss kept her eyes focused on her mother, the sparks that were barely concealed in response to whatever Liss was saying to Cassandra. She loved her friend more in that moment than she previously knew. To wordlessly show such defiance to the Duchess was bold. More than that, it conveyed the deep trust between them. Cassandra knew nothing of Bliss's reasons for despising her mother.

May I be so bold as to address you as Bliss?

Her eyes snapped into focus on the man whisking her around the ballroom. You may not, she said frostily. Are you daft man, or could you not see that I merely wished to avoid something more unpleasant than your company?

Rather than take offense, the man laughed softly. I must say, I’ve heard things about you titled ladies, but none of them hinted at your fiery penchant for impoliteness. I thought they worked very hard to breed that sort of behavior out of the English peerage.

Then you’re no gentlemen? her eyes narrowed, taking in more than just the swarthy and somewhat dashing dark look of the man. Your accent…

Not English, he grinned unabashedly. So you see, my dear, you’re quite safe with me. No lady of your standing would ever be permitted a courtship with an American.

I thought you were a cousin of the Earl of Denton.

Nephew actually, by marriage. His sister married an American—and I am that man’s son from his first marriage. It was title enough to grant me entrance into this fine soiree. But I’m about as much your peer as the coachman who delivered you to this party, my dear.

Stop calling me that, Bliss snapped. I should’ve known you were a Yank. No manners at all. And don’t hold me so close. Why are you in London anyway? Haven’t you got a war you should be fighting somewhere?

His arms tightened around her, indiscernibly to everyone but Bliss. We haven’t been at war for at least a few years, Bliss. And I shall call you that until you give me a more proper title by which you wished to be addressed. Or do you prefer Duchess?

She scowled at him.

Princess then? he grinned impishly.

I’d prefer that you not address me at all, Bliss seethed, struggling to pull away without any care for causing a scene. In light of her earlier behavior and refusal to accept any suitors whatsoever, it hadn’t occurred to her that she was on the verge of instigating a commotion. Let me go! she hissed.

But, Your Grace, everyone here is watching. Then that does seem to be your intent as much as possible tonight, yes? He let his words whisper straight into her ear. I’m not scandalized by your behavior, but everyone else has been. Nor do I give a fig why you seem to be the most hateful wench I’ve ever encountered. I do believe that you wish to avoid that lovely creature watching you with most avid interest. Perhaps if I am not to your liking, she would be interested in getting to know me. Care to make an introduction, Your Grace?

Her fury was only muted by the glance around the broad shoulder blocking her view. Oh blast that woman! she cried. She does not even bother to hide her treachery even in full view of my father!

Ah… so she is his mistress?

Bliss's eyes burned with tears denied. She struggled to hold them at bay. You are an ill–bred—

Ah–ah, the man cautioned.

That odious creature is not his mistress, Bliss murmured, voice low and deceptively calm. She is my mother.

Chapter 2

Noah Winthrop hadn’t intended to show up at the blasted society ball in the first place. Spreading rumors about his alleged ties to the Earl of Denton no less than a fortnight before his arrival in London had assured that mere courtesy alone—or was that curiosity? —would guarantee his pick of events that might strike his fancy. He hadn’t anticipated being dragged through the ton like any other English gent seeking the right pedigree to perch on his arm until death did they part. The whole thing was nothing more than a scheme cooked up by his best friend, the real gent–in–waiting to become the next Earl of Denton. Noah just happened to befriend the young man years earlier when his father had sent him to England to avoid the inevitable scandal that was about to crash down around the good–standing Winthrop’s of Boston. Bored and weary of the mantle of his father’s unreasonable expectations, Noah decided to accept Thomas St. George’s most recent and generous offer of an extended visit.

It presented him a convenient excuse, putting off his father’s desire for Noah to settle down, marry and take over the family business. Noah had no qualms about avoiding responsibility. And why shouldn’t he run from it hard and fast? He was after all, only twenty–nine years old. In London and gay Paris, it wasn’t uncommon for young men to sow their wild oats for much longer before becoming saddled with a wife and children and… he shuddered at the very thought. Well, at least until a most unexpected wench was quite literally tossed into his arms.

He had no aspirations of meeting the lady, truly. Beyond the fact that he wasn’t really her peer in high society (not that he was a pauper either) but he had spent much of the evening in wry amusement, watching suitor after smitten young gent be summarily dismissed by Bliss Eddington without any regard for the seriousness of their intent. She was simply and completely disagreeable.

To find her thrust into his arms, ignoring him completely and then confessing what promised to be a delightful little family intrigue had been a tantalizing surprise. He grinned broadly, watching the unusually tall, willowy young woman flouncing away from him in enough lace and silk to probably clothe three petite wenches. She didn’t look like anyone else at the ball. He shook off the feeling of interest that bubbled in his gut at the sight of her very fine features—a face so perfect in its symmetry, that he was certain not even the Renaissance masters had conceived in their wildest imaginations a face so worthy of fine art. It wasn’t even that Her Grace was particularly beautiful, just interesting enough in her difference from the other girls twirling about while they practiced their coquettish mannerisms that made her somehow irresistible.

What say, old man? the large hand of Thomas St. George clapped him soundly on the back. Did I just see you waltzing with Bliss Eddington?

Hmm? I guess, his reply was distant, still distracted by the soft hair the color of champagne in the soft light of dusk hanging in ringlets that framed the lady in question’s head. She’s not very… sociable, I’d say.

Thomas laughed loudly. Every girl in this place can’t tear her eyes from you now, Noah, wondering what the devil you did to actually get the girl to agree to dance with you. Or hadn’t you noticed that she’s rejected all offers tonight?

I guess… but then perhaps she didn’t mind dancing with me since of all the men in this place, I’m least suited at all to her noble station in life, he grinned at his friend. She is rather interesting though. Never saw such a thin waif of a woman. Dress her in something a little less revealing, and I’d swear she was but a child… albeit a very tall child.

God, you didn’t say anything like that to her, did you?

Noah moved to the refreshment table and lifted a glass of liquor to his lips. Damned if I can recall a thing I said at all, Thomas. She admitted, however, that she was only dancing with me to avoid her mother. Now why do you suppose a proper lady would say such a thing?

Probably didn’t want her ears blistered for rejecting the cream of London’s crop of suitable husbands, Thomas chuckled. Why do you think I haven’t made an attempt to court the girl myself? If it weren’t for my father, I’d never set foot in these parties, but as the next Earl, he feels it’s important that I be seen at all the right events. You know he’s hoping I’ll set my sights on one of these noblewomen and get about to producing the next heir to the title.

You’re no doubt as enticed by that proposition as I, Noah chuckled. But what has me befuddled is why this girl wastes her time at a social like this when she’s made it clear to all and sundry that she has absolutely no intention of snaring a husband.

Thomas shrugged. Maybe she’s already got one picked, old man. If he’s not here, it’s only right that she put everyone else out in the cold, don’t you think?

Unlikely, Noah chuckled. She’s not interested in any of this. Her mother is a beauty though, isn’t she?

Ah, quite the scandal that one, Thomas nodded, lowering his voice. Of course no one speaks of it publicly, barely in private either because of who Eddington’s brother is, mind you.

And who might he be?

You’re not serious, are you? Thomas nearly choked at his friend’s ignorance. His brother is the bloody king—the brother to the one you Yanks were so delighted to defy of late.

We defied nothing, Noah protested. He had no right to restrict free trade and ignore international law!

Yes, of course, St. George placated his friend with an inherited patronizing air that the English truly had perfected. Nonetheless, the Duke is himself the bastard son of George the Third and half brother to our current sovereign. So you see…

I’ll be damned, Noah laughed. Here I thought I was being so witty and sarcastic when I asked the girl if she preferred to be called princess when she refused to let me use her given name—

You teased the Duchess of Wexham?

Don’t look so shocked. I am after all, Noah mimicked his friend’s pretentious tone, nothing but one of those bloody brash American’s, quite improper at that. She can take care of herself, that one. You needn’t worry that I offended her. Delicate may be used to describe her face but certainly not her temperament.

True enough it would seem, Thomas agreed. My sister knows her, assured me that this would be a delightful affair tonight. I can’t imagine why Rose would speak so highly of such an unfriendly girl, no matter how close to the king her pedigree may be.

Your lovely sister who will be turning eighteen in two months? Noah grinned.

My fine, chaste and to remain pure little sister who is most certainly off limits to a scoundrel like you, Thomas clarified only half in jest. She claims that the Duchess is one of the sweetest people she’s ever known. Thank God she’s not here bearing witness to such blatant hostility. I can only imagine how she’ll suffer for her atrocious conduct after the guests depart.

Noah gripped St. George’s arm tightly. Suffer? What the devil for?

Nothing corporal, young Winthrop. We’re far more civilized than that. She’s bloody well likely to have her season end abruptly though and find herself betrothed to the suitor of her father’s choice.

Noah snorted. Such a terrible fate. Here I had visions of someone taking a switch to her backside—and she’s decidedly lacking in… padding back there.

Thomas threw his head back and laughed. No one would dare punish her in such a manner! Not her or any other lady of title and breeding! Do tell, Noah, is such treatment considered appropriate in Boston?

You might be surprised at what sort of humiliation wives and daughters must endure at times. I’d wager you might be surprised that some of the same sort of thing goes on behind these very wealthy closed doors here as well. But I have another question for you. Would her father truly let her have free rein over the choice of husband?

Within reason of course.

And by reason you mean…?

Thomas chuckled, watching his friend covertly watching the subject of their conversation across the ballroom. No one without the proper pedigree, of course, certainly a nobleman with an estate in his own right, and preferably someone equal to her rank. It wouldn’t do for her to marry less than a Duke when she’s already a Duchess.

Yet her husband's firstborn son with her would become the true heir to her father’s title and estate, yes?

Provided he’s no bloody Yank, Thomas ribbed with a jab to Noah’s side. What the devil are you thinking man? You can’t have set your sights on a seduction of a proper lady, can you?

Certainly not! You well know I prefer a good tavern wench any day of the week, Thomas. And I had quite my fill of dancing too close to the flame that is marriage, thank you. I’m just quite curious about all of this, and how someone so set against any man—proper English or not—got hoodwinked into having a season for entertaining in the first place.

Obviously the doing of her parents. She’s been bred for this, Noah. It’s her only required function as a daughter and a proper lady in society.

Producing an heir, yes… Noah mused. She seems to have another agenda for her life than what society expects of her. What would happen should she refuse to marry, or be forced to marry but refuse to produce a child with her husband?

A proper lady cannot deny the wishes of her husband, Thomas scoffed at the mere notion. I do find your fondness for utter independence from even the most basic societal expectations most refreshing, Noah. Good thing you threw off the mantle of George all those years ago. Even such a scandal an ocean removed would’ve elevated the common man here practically to nobility!

What of love? Noah wondered. Betrothals and the duty of a wife to her husband… where does passion and all of that fit into your stuffy social construct?

Mistresses, Thomas smirked wickedly.

Noah’s face darkened. It is therefore little wonder why some men, bloody Yanks or not, find your version of marriage or any similar arrangement detestable. Why bother with marriage with such a jaded expectation?

You’re far too romantic considering your sordid past. You wouldn’t have embellished that story you told when we first met, would you?

Not a damned word. Noah gulped down the burning liquor in his glass and slammed it on the table. Excuse me, St. George, but I believe I’ll take in the night air on the terrace. It’s getting a bit too close in here for my taste.

*~*~*~*~*~*

I’m delighted, Bliss that you have decided not to completely devastate your father tonight. Who is that delicious young man with whom you just danced?

Mother, she gritted the worth through her teeth, not quite achieving the effect of keeping the angry title uttered under her breath. How should I know who he is? We progressed as far as his atrocious accent and—

Accent? He’s not a commoner, is he? Liss gasped. How on earth would one of them garner an invitation here?

He’s worse than a commoner, the Bliss gloated. He’s American. And perhaps I should introduce you. He seemed quite taken with you, Mother dear.

American, you say? How fascinating! But why… when relations are still so bitter even after the blockades were lifted years ago… what is he doing here, Bliss?

She glared at her mother. Your pretended concern for my father’s broken heart is wasted on me! Perhaps you might concern yourself more with your conduct and less with mine if you wish to see to his happiness!

Liss Eddington smiled sweetly at her daughter. But his happiness is the cause for this grand ball. He wishes to see you married off to a fine gentleman, Bliss.

And you wish for me to no longer be under foot!

You are at a marriageable age, my darling. Are you not curious of the joys of marriage, of love?

"You have taught me well, Mother, for I learned early on that the two notions are most certainly not