The Bering Sisters A Regency Romance

By Larisa Long

The Bering Sisters is a Young Adult clean Regency romance about duty, sacrifice, revenge, the loyalty of sisters, love found, love lost, and love forbidden. It is a stand alone, full length novel.

Cassandra and Juliana are the Bering Sisters living in Regency England, 1810. When the dying Earl of Abbotden convinces seventeen year old Cassandra, his eldest daughter, to marry the heir of the estate, Cassandra easily agrees. Cassandra has spent her life doing what is expected, but things change when she meets and falls in love with the handsome Lord Halithorpe.

Sixteen and carefree, Juliana is the exact opposite of her duty bound sister. Born from an ill-fated second marriage, she refuses to see her sister settle for a loveless marriage. Juliana ignores society’s rules that bind Cassandra’s future and struggles with her own growing attraction for Lord Kemnay, Lord Halithorpe’s handsome cousin.

Against Cassandra’s wishes, Juliana schemes to unite Lord Halithorpe with her sister. Juliana does not believe her actions will ruffle anything more than society’s antiquated rules, but her meddling causes a chance meeting between Juliana’s sadistic mother and Lord Halithorpe’s infamous brother. The vindictive duo plots revenge against their families and ignites a dangerous obsession that threatens more than Cassandra’s reputation or Juliana’s future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Larisa Long
• Release date: May 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463457467

Larisa Long

Larisa Long writes young adult urban fantasy/paranormal romance and reverse harem romance (which has quickly become an obsession). When she’s not writing or thinking about writing, she devours paranormal fiction, worries about animals, stalks chocolate, dreams about the perfect cupcake, and tries to explain her devotion to sprinkles. She lives with her husband and a group of ever expanding rescue animals (and possibly some paranormals) in the Pacific Northwest.

Book preview

The Bering Sisters

A Regency Romance

By

Larisa Long

Copyright © 2018, 2022 Larisa Long

This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents are fiction. Any similarity to any real persons, characters, events or incidents is entirely coincidental. All Rights Reserved.

Any trademarks, service marks, or product names are assumed to be property of their respective owners. No endorsement is implied.

For Mom and Dad

Table of Contents

Prologue

January 1810

February 1810

March 1810

April 1810

May 1810

July 1810

August 1810

September 1810

October 1810

November 1810

December 1810

Thank you!

Also By Larisa Long

Prologue

I want you to know there is someone who ardently loves you, will fight for you, and will die with your name on his lips. You are in possession of my heart.

I am yours, Cassandra, now and forever.

Henry

January 1810

Dearest Juliana - January 3, 1810

Please forgive me for what I am about to write. It is improper and shameful, and I am likely to be punished for eternity. I seek my future husband’s forgiveness for something he must never discover.

I met him…Lord Halithorpe…Henry. Oh, dearest sister, if you could see me, you would laugh at my nerves. My hand barely writes fast enough as my mind leaps forward thinking of him.

His blue eyes absorbed me and would not release me. His gaze did not wander to someone more beautiful. His attention was not swayed by someone more interesting.

I stood up straighter around him, smiled more, and worried if my pink dress - the one you made me buy three months ago - brought out the colour in my normally pale complexion. I even lamented if my blonde hair were too drab for someone of his taste and wished I had your depth of brown.

Henry possesses such confidence - true confidence based upon strength of knowledge and not the ineptitude of so many newly titled gentlemen who could not tell a footman from a chamber pot.

Did I exist in a perpetual trance of mediocrity? When Henry’s eyes met mine, and he spoke my name, it was the first time I took notice of my heart. I assumed it to merely function much like a limb. I never realized it could simultaneously induce madness and passion.

Since you are staying with Lady Rebecca, who lives so near to Edenfield and Henry, dare I ask? Do you see him often? Forget that. I am ashamed of my lingering thoughts. It is not proper.

I have only been engaged a month!

During the last years of his life, Father worried what would become of the Bering family and Ashland. I had to keep the estate within our family. I had to ensure his wife had a home, and you would be free to choose your own husband. This I gladly accepted without regret. I agreed to marry father’s heir. I did what was expected of me. I did my duty.

I am sorry I relate to you what you, of course, already know. I do not recognize myself. I exist on a precipice between the allure of madness and the temptation of unattainable happiness.

I am not the person I have aspired to be. I have sought to be true and respectful and an example to you. I believed I was a good person. Perhaps that was a lie. Oh, what would my mother think of me? Her sacrifice would have been for naught. I would have gladly lived my days with James unaware of love’s cost, but James is no more in love with me than I of him. Will it be enough to know Henry exists if I may never experience the happiness of him?

I have released my deepest thoughts to you. I trust your discretion, dearest sister. Please do not allow your faith in me to be shaken. I will not disgrace our father's name or my mother’s memory. I will not dishonor James or endanger your future happiness. I can never see Henry again nor receive another of his letters.

I must draw strength from my mother’s memory. Not one ever uttered a harsh word about her, and they mourn for her still. And if any of the servants discovered…I could not face their wrath again. Being called a selfish child whose saint of a mother sacrificed her life for nothing is not something I wish to relive.

I shall convince myself I am suffering a curable malady. Perhaps a new blue hat or purple sash will cure the madness. I must cease to think of Henry and a future which is impossible. Do not fret, Juliana. I will return to my normal self in due time. Forgive me for my indiscretions. It was never my intent to shake your confidence in me.

Your sister,

Cassandra

I am including the letter Henry wrote to me. It is safer with you. I do not want it under my roof.

Cassandra,

You haunt my dreams and invade my days. I am ardently in love with you, and I am yours forever. In all of my eighteen years, I have never felt like this! This letter is highly improper, but I am not the sort to deny our connection. It is no use wishing things were different. You are spoken for, but I will never love another.

I think of our first meeting every day. It started innocently with the arrival of guests, and you walked into the parlour with James and your chaperone. You arrived in a blur of pink, and James introduced you. For a few minutes, I had not realized he had stopped talking. I only remembered him saying, Cassandra.

He must have said more, but I fear James never held my attention. I am sorry. I should not speak of him like that. Forgive me. There, I am glad I was able to write those words. I feared my nefarious mind would prevent me from bestowing any compliments upon him. And now, I have realized I did not compliment him at all. I am sorry for that as well.

This is not my way of turning you against him. It is just my way. Most find me impertinent and rude. Or they would were I not newly in possession of the title Lord Halithorpe. People forgive much as long as money and title are attached. Why is that? If a servant acted the way I did or even entertained my thoughts, he would be ostracized immediately or possibly imprisoned. Would I have been different had I been born with less? Would I have conformed to convention? Interesting how I can write to you as if we were talking still.

Back to that glorious day in the parlor at Edenfield where we first met:

Henry and I were tutored together during our schooldays, James said, as if reciting from a paper.

James had a way of obviously stating the obvious.

Right. James stopped to clear his throat a few dozen times.

I knew him well enough to realize the noises he made were not of necessity but rather of irritation to what he was about to say.

Henry is Lord Halithorpe now with the passing of his father who died. It has been just about six months, has it not Henry since you turned eighteen? I am sorry for your loss because I always respected your father who was coincidentally friends with my father because they in turn went to school together too. James fidgeted too much as his eyes darted back and forth between us.

Then my butler told him about the gardens, and he scampered off. Eventually, your chaperone left as well.

You sighed slightly as you smiled at me. I fear James might wear you out with his nonsense chatter.

I am sorry to hear of the passing of your father, Lord Abbotden, I said.

You smiled. Thank you. Most people talk about how he survived longer than he ought which I find rather strange - as if he did something wrong and should be ashamed for his continued living. You looked at me startled as if you said something wrong. I am sorry, Lord Halithorpe, I do not know why I told you that.

Henry, I corrected only because I selfishly longed to hear my name on your lips. Perhaps you find me easier to communicate with.

Your perfect porcelain complexion blushed with a slight shade of pink to match your dress. I must confess: I was not slighting your engagement. I was giving myself a compliment. One of my many grievous sins is over confidence in my abilities. I guess that is another problem with the ruling class. We were never given boundaries to learn the art of humility.

You laughed.

I do not plan on saying outrageous things. They just scamper about and run amok.

You laughed again. Then it was my turn to blush for I rarely ever said things like that aloud. I wondered if you thought me odd or careless with my affections.

No one has ever talked to me like that, you said.

We are English. We rarely talk about important things at all, I whispered as if I would have been hanged immediately.

Then my grandmother arrived with the flurry of black that is expectant of her being in mourning the past thirty years. That is what Joan said. The wretched woman informed me of the child's name. After much insecure digestion, I was able to chew on said name - such an unfortunate name for an unfortunate child. My grandmother stopped quickly and stared at us. Henry, I did not know you were entertaining.

This is Lady Cassandra, I said. This is my grandmother the Dowager Countess of Halithorpe.

Henry, you know I prefer Lady Seaton.

Henry nodded.

Lady Cassandra? Are you the one about to be married to James Hawksley?

Do you remember the look on my grandmother's face? She looked you over as if you were a hat in her favourite soup. She quickly lost most of her colouring and looked as pale as that pale soup the cook unwisely served us last week.

James Hawksley? He is here? She glanced to the sofa by the fireplace as if he had thrown himself under before she entered.

I motioned towards the gardens as he and the chaperone lingered near a frightened fern.

She peered in that direction and squinted until James came into view. Her expression can only be described as aghast - part fright and part fear – as if I had just married her off to a footman.

Oh my, he is here. Good grief. I mean … what are we to do? Then, she looked at you, and everything clarified. You are Cassandra Bering. Oldest child of Lord Archibald Bering. Of course. She looked you up and down and then glanced again towards the gardens. I understand, dear child, I do understand. I admire your sacrifices to be loyal to your family. It is a rare quality these days. Your father would be pleased that Ashland will remain within the Bering family, but I do apologize for it. If only your brother had survived infancy … The entail is a most dreadful business. She shook her hands to be free of the idea. I am just glad I had one son and two grandsons and did not have the worries of a most inconvenient union. I am more sorry than you can ever realize. She glanced a few more times towards the garden and then disappeared down the hall muttering of catastrophes and famines as she wrung her hands.

Well, you smiled. That was interesting.

Yes, she is. I hope you are not offended.

You waved your hands away. It is nice to meet someone who admired my father.

And your mother? I only asked wanting to know more about you and to prolong your visit. But my question, I fear, offended. Your colouring changed as if you became instantly ill and lightheaded.

She died giving birth to me, you said, barely above a whisper.

I had to catch my breath. I had forgotten that. Please forgive me. I meant your step-mother.

I have no idea. She is away and was never much for writing. I should be grateful. Not reading a tiring list of my shortcomings, negative traits, and varied disappointments gives me more time in the day.

I flinched because it pained me to hear of anyone causing you distress. Surely she is happy Ashland will remain within the immediate family.

You shrugged. I am happy my sister will have more choices.

More choices than you were offered?

You quickly glanced away from me to study the rug in the parlour that I admit had not crossed my attention in years. I did not even remember it possessed so many bright, yellow flowers, and I hoped you liked it. If you despised it, I would change it immediately. I did not regret saying what I did. Maybe I should have, but regret is not an emotion I am quick to entertain.

Uninterrupted, I was able to study you clearly. As your green eyes watched the rug, strange and silly things grasped my thoughts. Your beautiful blonde hair was held up with some contraption. Ladies’ accoutrements fall well beyond my purview. I wondered of your hair’s length and how it fell across and over your shoulders. I have never looked at a woman’s head and wondered anything about her hair.

Then I thought about your beautiful eyes and all they had seen in your young life. I hoped few tears crossed your cheeks, and that smiles introduced themselves easily to you. You have the most inviting smile. It takes my breath away and makes me forget my own name.

Then your glance caught me.

I hoped you looked at me without utter disgust. I fear my hair is shorter on the sides than convention allows while I allow my blonde curls on top to do as they fancy and have spent hours listening to my grandmother rail against it. My forehead sometimes juts out too far, and, if I am not careful, too easily betrays my disgust and anger. It is hard for me to hide my intentions, but I hoped you were gracious enough to not be offended by my appearance.

For an entire hour, we talked about nothing and everything. No one interrupted us. It was the finest hour in my life. I have never felt more content to be so accepted and understood. I did not fidget as I often do when bored. My mind did not wander. I did not worry or misbehave. Peace. That is what I felt. Calm swept through me like a warm summer’s day of pure joy. It was everything I had always longed for but never knew I missed.

Then James returned. Time continued to chug as it had before, and nefarious thoughts invaded me.

James must have stood there for a few minutes before I even realized anyone else existed. You had already become my everything.

The beautiful gardens are beautiful, Henry.

I stared at him as if he were a statue. Yes, thank you, James. We are blessed with good soil. I heard myself speak but thought I detected a stranger. When I talked with you, I was honest, true, and genuine.

Talking with anyone else, I heard the decayed enthusiasm in my voice. With you, I was eloquent - at least I would like to believe I was - and interesting. I can only hope you found me interesting. With James, I stammered and stalled as if I were back in school being accused of something I most surely and deviously perpetrated.

James cleared his throat again. Do you know how they achieved such a vivid shade of red on that flower by the edge of the property? Forgive me for not providing the proper name of the flower. Unless you have changed, you do not admire them as I do.

I relinquished the need to understand him fully. You would have to ask the gardener.

Of course, James sniffed.

Even as boys, I recognized the haughty nature James possessed. He was untitled but wealthy and smarter than the rest. He believed those of us born with titles were useless, and I am sure he was correct in his assessments of many of my class.

James cleared his throat awkwardly as if he intended a symbolic meaning behind his irritation. Henry is part of the class who fears getting his hands dirty and his mind opened.

I grinned. James tried to sting me, but he lacked the proper attachment. Did you see the fern like plant by the fountain?

James looked upon me as if I were a lowly idiot. I recognized it immediately. It is a—

It is the most beautiful being I have ever seen, I quickly interrupted. Strong. Selfless. Unique. I did not believe those qualities could exist. Of course, I was speaking of you, Cassandra, and not the fern. I am sure James did not suspect. He lacks the romantic nature that inspires most men to be deceitfully sly.

My hand tires of writing of James, and my mind hardens to his descriptions. Before I met you Cassandra, I thought little of love. I regret I believed it to be a fairy tale or an infection for the afflicted. The moment I saw you, I knew how wrong I had been. I long to see your emerald eyes sparkle again. Circumstances might prevent us from ever being together, but I wanted you to know there was someone who ardently loved you, would fight for you, will die with your name on his lips. You are in possession of my heart.

I am yours, Cassandra, now and forever.

Henry

My Sweetest Cassie - January 12, 1810

I am incapable of judging you. Your secret I will hide away forever. Unfortunately, my acquaintance with your Lord Halithorpe - Henry - has been postponed because Rebecca has ventured out little in her brother’s absence. Hopefully, I will soon encounter this great man who has captured your heart.

Do not fret. You agreed to marry James because you assumed it your duty. I never wanted you to make the sacrifice. I only wish Father had not pressured you. Your impending marriage made him happy in his final days, and he died in peace knowing his beloved Ashland would remain in Bering hands.

Yes, your mother was very beloved as are you. My own mother is not. She married Father because she wanted the title and money. She did not want him specifically. Neither made the other happy. Given the more than fifty year age difference, he should have realized as such. It pains me he suffered such a sour union and then expected you to marry out of responsibility rather than love.

I am sorry of my obsession over the matter. I have said as much as I can without further offense but not as much as swirls consistently in my mind.

Do you not think it strange James introduced you to Lord Halithorpe? You needed him to introduce you to your true love. Quite peculiar, is it not? That awareness has stalked me. I also do not think it bizarre you love someone so soon after meeting. I would adore love. I imagine the heart beats fast like the speediest of horses, and the world’s mysteries finally reveal themselves from their foggy veil. I cannot wait to be in love.

It pains me to think of your suffering,

Juliana

Retton - January 6, 1810

You must help me, cousin. I have met Cassandra Bering, and I am doomed to a life of misery because she is recently engaged to the dull James Hawksley.

You may or may not recall James from school. He is rather forgettable and odd. I am certain he would make an adequate husband to someone who did not require or expect much but not to Cassandra. Her home, Ashland, was entailed to him since neither her mother nor step-mother bore surviving sons. Originally, the estate was entailed to James’ grandfather, but Cassandra’s father survived much longer than anyone planned. The estate had to be entailed to James’ father and then to James. Rare that Lord Abbotden outlived so many of his heirs.

Not only is Cassandra the most beautiful I have ever seen, but speaking to her was absolutely divine. I could have told her anything without fear of repercussion. I could stare into the clarity of her green eyes forever and never be bored or crave another. She is everything I ever wanted and never knew I lacked. She possesses such strength and loyalty mixed with the fragility of someone who knows not their own power.

Have you ever succumbed to love? You suffered many a crush, but I am not