Her Heart’s Desire For A Better Life

By Helen Keating

Mail Order Bride: Rejected By The English Lord, But Welcomed By The Rancher - A woman who is minor royalty leaves the confines of her family home in England, to visit with a friend in America. As soon as she arrives she sees a newspaper advertisement for mail order brides and shortly after that, she’s off for the adventure of her lifetime, to a rancher who thinks she’s beautiful despite her limp and self-admitted plainness.

Message In A Bottle - A poor and lonely Victorian woman eking out her living in Brighton by making seashell jewelry, finds a message in a bottle on the beach and vows to find the man who wrote it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susan Hart
• Release date: Oct 29, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310727481

Book preview

Her Heart’s Desire For A Better Life

By

Helen Keating

Copyright 2015 Hart’s Desire Publishing

Mail Order Bride: Rejected By The English Lord, But Welcomed By The Rancher

Message In A Bottle

Mail Order Bride: Rejected By The English Lord, But Welcomed By The Rancher

Synopsis: Mail Order Bride: Rejected By The English Lord, But Welcomed By The Rancher - A woman who is minor royalty leaves the confines of her family home in England, to visit with a friend in America. As soon as she arrives she sees a newspaper advertisement for mail order brides and shortly after that, she’s off for the adventure of her lifetime, to a rancher who thinks she’s beautiful despite her limp and self-admitted plainness.

Elizabeth adjusted her skirts to make sure her feet were covered. Years ago, she had given up moaning about the accident that had caused her to walk with a limp, but certain recent events had made her conscious of the defect once more. She knew very well that she wasn't much to look at on the best of days, but plain features can be overcome to a certain degree with proper colors and styles of dress to highlight the positives and downplay the negatives.

The limp was another matter and not so easily hidden. The built up shoe on that foot helped, but it was not enough to assuage the disgust of the duke, Lord Victor of Devonshire. 

She sneered at the thought of his name. Soon, she would be off to a distant land where she would no longer have to burden him with her presence on this earth. Essentially, she would cease to exist for him.

His Lordship was to fine and high minded to bother with a cripple for a wife. It mattered not to him that they had been promised since she was still in her cradle, a marriage of two royal lines that was to bring her family back to prominence in society. It mattered not to him that she had been whole and hearty up until the day ten years ago when her horse had thrown her. The short leg was the result of a poorly set break, not a genetic default. 

It mattered not to him. On the very day of their formal betrothal, they had met for the first time. The ball had been months in the planning. Her parents had gone into debt to finance an event worthy of the cousin of the Queen. He was only tenth in line to the throne, but Victor was still royalty and therefore entitled to the best that her family had to offer. Elizabeth wore a gown that would have cost most men a year’s wages. Cream colored silk woven with strands of gold and studded with tiny seed pearls. Unused to the weight, her bad leg had given way and she had bobbled in her curtsy.

And, he had laughed at her. 

Perhaps she could have forgiven his laughter, there were few who had not laughed. But she would never, could never, forgive the utter cruelty of his next words.

'This is the clumsy cow you would have me marry? Her face alone is a sight to make the strongest man shudder, but to have her weak kneed and clumsy as well is too much. I would not take her for all the gold in England.'

Elizabeth had fled the room in humiliation. As she stumbled away, she could hear her father explaining about her leg and how it was nerves that made her seem less than graceful. The Duke’s laughter rang through the room.

And that is supposed to make it better? An ugly chit who is too nervous to stand upright is no better than a country milkmaid.

She had heard no more, nor did she need to. Alone in her room, she had struggled out of the grand dress and into another of plain gray silk. She had agreed to the marriage because the bible said to honor your parents and Elizabeth had done so. She had obeyed them when her heart had longed for a marriage based on love rather than bloodlines and money.

If she was no better than a country milkmaid, then that is what she would become. But, not in England. The news of her rejection would surely travel from county to county, city to city until the entire land knew of her humiliation. No, she would not live with that. 

But there was another option. America.

She had just days ago received a letter from a school friend. Sarah's family had gone to America shortly after graduation and they had kept up regular correspondence ever since. In every letter, her friend begged her to come for a visit. Elizabeth had put her off because of her betrothal and the commitments she already had here.

Now, with the last tie holding her here severed, she could leave without guilt. Her trunk was packed and ready for the journey to her betrothed's estate in the north of England where they were to have gone together on the morrow. There would have been another round of parties and luncheons with his friends. It was to have been the first step in their future together. 

Now, there was no future. In fact, the future lay before her unrestricted and empty. Elizabeth gazed into the floor length glazed mirror and adjusted the angle of her hat. A slow smile spread across her face. Perhaps the rejection of her ‘betrothed’ was a miracle from God. Perhaps she could find love without guilt for her disobedience.

She was free. Free of the burden of an unwanted marriage. Free of the expectations of the gentility for a brilliant marriage. She was free to live as she wished.

Within reason, of course.

Her first step was to leave the house and its overabundance of guests while avoiding detection. Because of the early start planned for the next day, her baggage was already loaded on the wagon that would follow the carriages north. Therefore, all she needed to carry with her was the small reticule that matched her traveling gown. If she used the servants' stairs, it was likely she could escape detection all together. Most of the serving staff was either helping with the ball or taking advantage of a rare evening off.

Traversing the narrow uncarpeted stairs of the servant wing while remaining quiet proved a challenge. Her hard-soled boots scuffed and clicked on the exposed wood making her stop to listen at every intersection. She had no idea that the passages created such a maze hidden from the view of the family. 

It made sense of course, Elizabeth knew her own mother was very strict with servants seen carting