Pricked by Thorns

By nicolette andrews

All wealthy men are in want of a wife. And a mad woman is in need of an escape. 

Catherine swore she wouldn't go back to the asylum. Her parents locked her away for seeing ghosts and fae, but years of treatment couldn't cure her. Spirits still haunt her and the fae continue to taunt her. Her treatment might have failed, but if Elk Grove taught her one thing, it was how to impersonate a sane person. Finally free of the institution, she will do anything to remain so, even if she has to trick a man into marrying her.  

With the family's debt hanging over her head, Catherine's mother is insistent she marry. Lord Thornton is the perfect candidate: a rich bachelor as charming as he is generous. But Catherine has learned the hard way that appearances can be deceiving and a charismatic mask can hide nefarious intentions. However, with creditors knocking down their doors and time running out, Catherine doesn't have time to be particular. Either she marries or she will be sent back to the asylum.   

When a ghost makes an ominous prediction regarding Lord Thornton, it brings into question not only Catherine's sanity but her plans to wed. Elk Grove told her ghosts weren't real, but can she ignore the warning when it's her life at stake? Now she must make a choice: defy her parents' order and be locked away for good or risk her life and marry Lord Thornton instead.

This romantic gothic fantasy tale, a prequel to the Thornwood Fae, is sure to delight fans of Carnival Row and Jane Eyre.

• Language: English
• Publisher: nicolette andrews
• Release date: Oct 29, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393141969

Book preview

1

The coachman slammed the door to the carriage. Catherine flinched. The dark interior threatened to swallow her whole. Her throat constricted and she wrapped her arms around her stomach. The phantom screams of Elk Grove rang in her ears. This wasn’t the room . Dr. Armstrong hadn’t locked her away. He was miles from here. This was a carriage, on its way to a dinner party. She was free.

Mama flattened the folds of her skirt with a huff and her elbow grazed Catherine’s side, while Papa on the bench across from her, cleared his throat and took out his paper. And the scent of ink and paper filled up the cabin. A sliver of muted light shone through the gap between the faded blue curtain and the window. Catherine drew it back and a square of gray light illuminated the floor of the carriage. The knot in her stomach loosened, and the screaming faded. That had been too close for comfort. Tonight had to go smoothly. She couldn’t risk an episode, not so close to returning home. Otherwise Mama and Papa might decide to send her back.

The carriage rocked as the grumbling coachman climbed into the driver’s seat.

I don’t see what he has to complain about. A fare is a fare isn’t it, Mr. Cunningham? Mama asked Papa as she scowled at the roof of the carriage. Fine lines had cracked Mama’s once porcelain smooth skin since she’d been away.

Papa grumbled in a way that could be a yes. The wisps of his now salt-and-pepper hair poked out from behind his paper. Why was he bothering to try and read in this terrible light?

Mama sniffed and flattened the folds of her faded royal blue gown again. Catherine had never seen Mama wear the same gown twice before. It was not only faded but the hem had been mended, many times. She would know she’d done enough such repairs herself while at Elk Grove.

The coachman cracked the whip, and the carriage lurched forward. Catherine braced against the wood paneled wall. A splinter embedded itself in her new gloves Mama had gifted her. She urgently picked at it before it caused a run in the silk. She’d hate to spoil her present the first night she wore it.

Catherine, stop picking like some street urchin, Mama scolded her.

Catherine dropped her hands to her lap. She’d made a mistake already. She had to do better to not displease Mama. They’d sent her away because she wasn’t a good daughter. But Elk Grove had taught her how to be an obedient daughter, a daughter they could be proud of. No more mistakes. Tonight had to be perfect. She repeated it in her head like a mantra.

Outside the carriage window, the cramped rows of townhomes flitted past. She’d forgotten how different London was from the countryside. Beneath the bruised purple of the twilight sky, the cobblestone glistened with the previous night’s rain. Refuse cluttered the streets. Pedestrians in varying shades of gray trudged down the sidewalk. Heads down, they skirted questionable brown puddles. Everything happened quickly here, even Mama had not delayed introducing her into society. At times it felt she couldn’t catch her breath while the world buzzed around her.

A woman in a white dressing gown stood on the street corner. Her unbound platinum hair fell over her shoulders like a veil. She swiveled her head back and forth reaching out to passersby who strode past her as if unseeing. At Elk Grove seeing someone wandering about in their underclothes wasn’t uncommon. But this was London. Perhaps she was a beggar? But none of the muddy streets had marred her clothes the way it clung to the other pedestrians passing by.

The carriage rattled closer. The woman turned, revealing a red slit across her throat. Blood stained the lace front crimson. The woman unhinged her jaw and wailed, her eyes fixated on Catherine like empty chasms.

Catherine let the curtain fall and shrunk down in her chair, hands clamped over her ears. The woman’s cries burrowed into her skull. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t, it wasn’t…

Catherine, what is the matter with you? Mama arched a painted brow at her.

She lowered her hands. The screaming stopped. She exhaled. Mama glared at her with pursed lips. Catherine curled her shoulders forward. Of course the screaming had stopped because it wasn’t real. She’d let her imagination get away with her again. Catherine’s anxiety often played tricks with her mind. Dr. Armstrong had warned her this would happen when she’d decided to return home. She pulled her elbows into her side and twined her shaking fingers together against her stomach.

Forgive me, Mama, Catherine croaked.

Mama heaved a sigh with a shake of her head. Was she having regrets about bringing her home? Maybe she felt the gifts they’d given her were a waste, that Catherine was ungrateful. Why hadn’t Catherine ignored the woman in white? Catherine pulled at the tips of her silken gloves. She knew it wasn’t real. But the scream had felt so real…

I want you on your best behavior, there’s a gentleman I want you to meet this evening, Mama said.

Catherine’s stomach clenched. Then the reason Mama and Papa had given her these fine gifts wasn’t because they were excited she was home. They wanted to dress her up like a doll in hopes of enticing a husband. Catherine’s arms fell to her sides, they seemed to weigh a ton. But if putting on an act was what they wanted, wasn’t that the least she could do to earn their approval? Catherine plastered on a fake smile.

Who is that, Mama? she asked.

Lord Thornton, an eligible gentleman of considerable yearly income who will be in town looking for a wife.

How could you know he’s searching for a wife? Catherine asked without thinking.

Mama clucked her tongue. All rich men are in want of a wife. She said it as if it was fact.

Papa cleared