Out of the Shadows: A Pair of Historical Romances

By Doreen Milstead

A Well-Off Widow & Her Colorado Rancher - A destitute but formerly well-off widow decides to become a mail order bride to a rancher in Colorado – a man who is known to a neighbor and friend. With the memories of her late husband still fresh in her mind, she wonders how she can survive the daily life she is about to face, or even if she will survive and find love.

The Pregnant Woman From Manchester - A woman from Manchester manages to escape her abusive husband, just as she learns she’s pregnant; and trying to get as far away as she can, becomes a mail order bride to a farmer called Josh, in California. The trouble is – she cannot get up the nerve to tell him that she’s pregnant, and still married.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Nov 5, 2016
• ISBN: 9781365509711

Book preview

Out of the Shadows: A Pair of Historical Romances

Out of the Shadows: A Pair of Historical Romances

By

Doreen Milstead

Copyright 2016 Susan Hart

A Well-Off Widow & Her Colorado Rancher

Synopsis: A Well-Off Widow & Her Colorado Rancher - A destitute but formerly well-off widow decides to become a mail order bride to a rancher in Colorado – a man who is known to a neighbor and friend. With the memories of her late husband still fresh in her mind, she wonders how she can survive the daily life she is about to face, or even if she will survive and find love.

Lydia held her tears back until the moment she’d entered her bedroom, closing the door behind herself. She’d managed to tell Effie, her beloved maid, to please leave her for the night. I’ll undress myself, Effie. Effie had nodded, silently, her sweet, aged face full of pain for her mistress. Effie had been sitting quietly in the corner of the library as Lydia received the news from the lawyer.

It was the news that made Lydia feel as if she was collapsing completely inward, as if her entire life was crumbling around her that lonely night in 1876. She allowed a few tears to fall and then she wiped them angrily away. She’d never been the crying type, her mother had taught her strength, quiet efficiency, nobility. She was a Walker of the Boston Walkers; her father came from an old family and old money. Unfortunately, most of that money had been gambled away on misguided investments by the time Lydia Walker, the belle of Boston, had been ready to marry.

It had been her duty to find a husband who could replenish the family coffers, and her mother had made it very clear that this was her expectation. She’d thrown every eligible bachelor of significant means into her daughter’s path, but Lydia had hated every single man that her mother suggested. Luckily, Lydia had met Jonas Green, a man who met all the criteria her mother asked for in a son-in-law: Wealthy with new money, securely landed with a large estate, well-mannered, and without much family who might advise him against marrying a cash-poor bride of a once-prosperous family.

Truly, Lydia would have married him even if she hadn’t fallen in love. It was her good fortune that Jonas had also been kind, strong, hard working and loyal. He was sweet and good, and she had loved him until the day he died.

Poor Jonas, she thought sorrowfully, not for the first time. Jonas had been overseeing the construction of a new building when a horse had been spooked by the sound of lumber falling off a wagon. The horse had broken loose and bolted into the partially finished framework of the house. Being surrounded by lumber beans and men closing in around it had scared the poor animal even more, and it had kicked wildly. Several men were injured.

Jonas was the only one hurt badly enough to die.

And as if the news of her husband’s death hadn’t been enough to destroy her, the lawyer had arrived that afternoon with news that was infinitely worse.

Jonas had indeed been very well off. But not quite as well off as Lydia had thought. And apparently, he’d been unable to tell her no.

He’d mortgaged the huge estate in order to afford the ridiculously lavish wedding that she’d demanded from him. In retrospect, Lydia knew she would have never asked for the team of white horses to transport her to the church, the handmade dress from Paris with yards and yards of convent-made lace, the full orchestra, or the three-month honeymoon if she’d known that he had mortgaged the estate to get those things.

But he hadn’t told her that any of it was causing financial struggle, he’d simply arranged for her to have those things. He had never suggested that she hold back on her spending, he’d never suggested that she deny herself anything. As you wish, he would say, or Of course you may, darling, every time she asked for something, no matter how frivolous it was.

Now she scanned the bedroom. She’d demanded this new furniture from him as well, the wardrobe in the closet, everything. Her lifestyle had been the cause for her current situation, she realized.

Destitute. I have nothing.

The mortgage was astronomical; there would be no way for her to ever pay it back. Jonas could have paid it back, and she knew he would have, with the salary he made running the most successful construction company in Boston. But by herself, it was impossible, absolutely impossible.

What am I going to do?

In despair, she collapsed into the huge, luxurious bed without even taking off her stays. She cried herself to sleep.

In the morning, the bright sunshine warming her body finally stirred her from her fitful sleep. Her eyes opened slowly and she saw her closet, the door standing open. She gazed at the long row of beautiful clothes, stopping on the gigantic white garment bag that held her wedding dress. It was worth hundreds, she knew, and it was in perfect condition.

Slowly, a plan began to form in her mind.

I can sell the dress, she thought, a pang of heartache ripping at her. She’d had images of her own daughter wearing the dress someday.

I will sell the dress. The money can keep me going for a few months.

Then what?

She put her feet down on the plush carpet and walked to the closet, undoing the ties of white cotton so that she could see her dress. She ran her fingers over the impossibly intricate lace that several nuns must have toiled over for months.

Sell the dress, then what? I’ll have to remarry. I have no other options. I can either make mortgage payments or leave. The payments are too high for me. Perhaps I could find a renter for the house, and allow Mr. Wright next door to manage the property for me. I could simply tell everyone that the house held too many memories and go….

Where?

Her mother’s house wasn’t an option, she thought, frustrated. They would only be constantly urging her to remarry, pushing her towards some of the disgusting old suitors that she’d rejected before she’d finally met Jonas. And her choices would be even more limited now that she was a widow with debt. She racked her brain and came up with nothing.

It doesn’t matter, I know the first steps to take, and I can figure out the rest as I go. I’ll just have