Leah's Surrender

By A.M. Westerling

With the threat of scandal hanging over Lady Leah Harrington, her parents arrange a temporary position for her in Australia as a companion to her aunt. Leah vows that on her return to England, she will forge her own future as a published lady of letters. However, now that she’s learned men are not to be trusted, having her sensibilities muddled by a dashing navy captain is not what she had planned for herself.

Despite France’s ever-present menace during the Napoleonic Wars, Captain Heath Trevelyan is ordered to transport a load of convicts aboard HMS Charlotte Mary destined for the penal colony of Australia. As a favour to a friend, he also provides passage for an alluring young woman and her aunt. When his ship sinks during a storm, a battle of endurance ensues for Heath and the survivors, including several convicts and the beauty who has captured his senses.

Which will he obey? His orders or his heart?

• Language: English
• Publisher: BWL Publishing Inc.
• Release date: Jan 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9780228615392

A.M. Westerling

From vikings to viscounts, join the adventure, live the romance.Living by the motto "You don't know unless you try", A.M.Westerling started writing historical romance because she couldn't find the kinds of stories she enjoyed. After all, she thought, who doesn’t enjoy a tasty helping of dashing heroes and spunky heroines, seasoned with a liberal sprinkle of passion and adventure?Westerling, a former engineer, is a member of the Romance Writers of America and active in her local chapter. As well as writing, she enjoys cooking, gardening, camping, yoga, and watching pro sports.Visit her at:www.amwesterling.comwww.facebook.com/A.M.Westerling www.Twitter.com/AMWesterling

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Leah’s Surrender

Book Two - The Ladies of Harrington House

A.M. Westerling

Digital ISBNs

EPUB 9780228615392

Kindle 9780228615408

Web 9780228615415

Print ISBNs

BWL Print 9780228615439

B&N Print 9780228615446

Amazon Print 9780228615422

Copyright 2021 by A.M.Westerling

Cover art by Michelle Lee

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

Dedication

To the Friends of Mary aka Kananaskis Girls – You’ve cheered me on every step of the way. Ladies, I adore you and our mountain getaways!

Chapter One

Cornwall, England – late 1805

Shouts of Whoa! and the clatter of iron-banded wheels on gravel sounded through Lady Leah Harrington’s bedroom window. She lifted her head from the poem she worked on in time to see a shiny black coach barreling up the drive towards Harrington House. Carefully so as not to smear the ink, she laid down her quill and leaned over her desk to peer through the panes in time to see the coach slow and disappear around the corner of the house.

Footsteps pitter pattered down the hallway outside her door; someone knocked. Leah turned but before she could answer, the door burst open and her younger sister bounded into the room in a flurry of blonde curls and blue muslin ruffles.

Aunt Beatrice is here! Catherine plopped down on Leah’s bed. And Mama says Sophie and Bryce are back from Brighton and shall be joining us this evening for supper. What fun! She clapped her hands.

What fun indeed, Leah said, trying not to sound aggrieved. It was always a treat to have a visit from Aunt Beatrice but her older sister Sophie’s marriage scant weeks ago to Lord Bryce Langdon had been awkward for Leah to say the least. She stifled her memories of those recent events and turned her attention back to Catherine.

You don’t look pleased in the slightest. Catherine cocked her head. Tell me, what has you in sixes and sevens?

Leah sighed. You know why.

I do not. Catherine shook her head. Is it that you’re sad to be going off to Australia?

Not that so much. It’s the reason why.

Pffft. People will forget soon enough.

Will they? Leah turned back to the window, leaned against her desk and propped her head on her fists. She’d placed her desk to watch the distant waters of the English Channel while she composed poetry. She loved the way the water changed, from sparkling blue some days to dull pewter others. A living thing almost, the sight of which always brought words to life on paper and cleared her mind. Something she needed a lot of lately.

They will, Catherine said stoutly. Now stop being such a dudgeon and come downstairs with me to welcome Aunt Beatrice.

Leah nodded and stoppered the inkwell. Very well.

By the time the two reached the front entry hall, a tall, red haired woman stood inside, flanked by her mother, Lady Evelyn Harrington on one side, and her father, Lord Oliver Harrington on the other. Stacked behind them and just inside the door were two leather strapped trunks.

It’s always such a pleasure to have you here, my dear. Papa patted his sister’s shoulder awkwardly.

The pleasure is mine. I do adore seeing your girls and imagine, the first fledgling has left the nest.

Yes. Mama beamed. Such a shame you missed the ceremony, but I shall favour you with all the details later.

Envy surged through Leah. Would Mama ever look that pleased again with her?

Beatrice spied the two girls and waved them over, enveloping them both in a cinnamon scented hug. Catherine! How are your lessons on the pianoforte going? And Leah, how I look forward to having your company!

I adore my lessons. I am progressing so very well that Vicar Sinclair has asked me to play at church from time to time, Catherine said.

Oh my, how very brave of you. Her aunt pretended to shudder. I could never summon up the courage to play in front of an audience. She turned to Leah. Are you ready for an adventure? You shall find life in Australia with your Uncle Henry and me quite exciting.

If you say so, Leah thought. Aloud she said, It shall be a grand escapade and I look forward to it.

As do I, replied her aunt. Genteel female companionship in the colony lacks at times. It shall be a treat indeed to have my niece with me for a time.

Leah nodded. Aunt Beatrice and Uncle Henry did not have children, so it seemed likely she lived a lonely life in that far away land.

And quite the opportunity to broaden her horizons, declared her mother.

Beatrice picked up a small carpet bag. If you don’t mind, I should like to retire to my room and freshen up.

Of course, you must be tired after your journey from London, Mama said.

Not terribly tired, the roads are much improved albeit still somewhat dusty. She patted one of her cheeks with her free hand. A basin of warm water and a fresh towel will do wonders.

I’ll send a footman up with your trunks. Mama gestured to Montgomery, the butler, waiting in haughty silence in the corner. He nodded and left the room.

Beatrice took a step towards the staircase then stopped to gaze over her shoulder. What time is supper?

Eight o’clock. We’re expecting Sophie and Bryce at seven to enjoy a sherry or two before we eat.

Splendid. I look forward to an evening with you and your lovely family. She made her way up the stairs, back straight and head up.

I should have time to practice. Catherine twiddled her fingers in the direction of Leah and her parents then dashed off towards the pianoforte in the drawing room.

Can’t you look a little more pleased to see your aunt? Mama asked, frowning.

I am pleased to see Aunt Beatrice, you know that.

Then comport yourself accordingly. You are a Harrington lady.

Yes, Mama. No one argued with her mother, particularly seeing as her mother had a point. Leah should have the manners not to show her emotions. Of course she was happy to see Beatrice. But how could she explain her feelings about seeing her sister and her new husband? No one knew how she really felt. She’d put on a brave face during all the wedding preparations and kept all her heartbreak and humiliation inside.

***

Leah leaned into the mirror and pulled a lock of hair forwards to curl over her shoulder. She nodded in satisfaction. That shall do very well, Maddy. She turned to the maid standing behind her with the curling tongs. You may go, I’m sure Catherine is impatiently waiting for you.

You look lovely, miss. It shall be a fine evening with all the sisters together again. I’m sure Sophie has much to share about her honeymoon in Brighton. Maddy bobbed and placed the tongs on the hearth before leaving the room.

Leah smoothed the skirt of her newest gown, a high-waisted white silk overlaid with ivory gauze. She wore it for the first time tonight and she needed all the confidence the fabric creation could give her. She sighed. It wasn’t going to be easy to face her new brother-in-law Bryce.

Lord Bryce Langdon. He’d bought the neighbouring estate just over half a year ago and she’d fallen in love with him the moment she saw him. Only he hadn’t returned her feelings and although eventually he’d let Leah down as gently as he could, she realized in her efforts to become his wife that she’d made a total and complete fool of herself. Such a fool that she’d disgraced the family and her parents had decided the best thing for her was to spend time away. To mature, as they put it. That was why she would soon accompany Aunt Beatrice to Australia. No doubt by the time she returned she would be old and shriveled, doomed to spend her life as a spinster, someone to be pitied and put up with.

But she’d learned one thing. Never, she vowed, would she let herself make a fool of herself over a man.

Never.

Therefore, she may just as well face spinsterhood and the dreary prospects that entailed.

Leah left the room feeling as if she faced her doom. Her feet dragged and by the time she entered the drawing room, her stomach churned so that she was certain chunks of butter would pop from her mouth.

Leah! Sophie rushed over and clasped her in a hug, squeezing so hard Leah could scarce draw breath. Finally, Sophie pulled away.

You’ve only been gone a month, Leah said.

Yes, but it feels as if it’s been ages. I see Madame Flossy is up to her usual standards. She pointed to Leah’s gown. Your gown is divine.

As is yours. Did you buy it in Brighton?

Why yes, Bryce took me to a dressmaker one day. We had such fun, didn’t we darling?

Bryce moved to stand behind Sophie and dropped his hands on her shoulders. Indeed, we did. He nodded to Leah, his face bland. Good evening.

Good evening, she managed to squeak. Mercy. All the feelings she’d been trying so hard to squash came rushing back at the sight of him. She swallowed hard and glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. Ten minutes. It had only been ten minutes and already it seemed an eternity. How on earth would she last through supper?

Sophie, do tell us about Brighton, said her mother.

We had such a lovely time. One afternoon we visited the Royal Pavilion where we caught a glimpse of the Prince Regent. Several mornings we took the cure in the waters and every afternoon, we strolled the promenade. Since Prince George’s patronage, the town is quite a bustling centre.

During this, Bryce’s gaze never left Sophie’s face. Raw jealousy stabbed Leah and she clenched her teeth so tightly her jaw began to ache. Stop it, she scolded herself. Have you not decided that spinsterhood is your only future?

She grabbed a sherry from the footman who wandered through the drawing room wielding a silver tray with glasses filled with the golden-brown liquid and downed half of it in one gulp. She lifted the glass to her lips to down the rest of it and caught her father’s gaze. He nodded slightly and gave her an enquiring look. Dear, sweet Papa. He knew the sherry would surely go to her head. Instead, she lowered the glass to hold the stem between her fingers, swirling about the liquid and enjoying the bouquet of dried fruits and lemons wafting skyward.

She moved to the windows and looked out over the gardens. Fall was well on its way and only a few flowers still bloomed. The leaves had turned colour with most already fallen to litter the ground beneath the trees. The shriveled brown things looked like her dreams for the future.

Good evening! Aunt Beatrice’s voice echoed through the room. Leah turned around to join the chorus of good evenings then turned back to the window. The murmur of conversation punctuated by the odd burst of laughter warmed the air. Leah started sipping at the sherry remaining in her glass and soon it was empty.

Leah? Sophie stood beside her.

Leah glanced at her sister. Marriage suited her. Her skin glowed and her eyes sparkled. She brushed a crumb from her bodice and her diamond studded wedding ring glittered in the candlelight. How could Leah remain cross in the face of Sophie’s obvious joy? Surely she could be gracious enough to acknowledge her sister’s happiness. You look beautiful, she murmured.

As do you. How are you? I know these past few months have been difficult for you.

Difficult? Not that so much as humiliating. As much as she’d tried, she couldn’t shake the memories of her foolish behaviour and the shame that crashed over her when Bryce had told her he had no romantic feelings for her whatsoever. Then he’d tried to soften the blow by assuring her some other man would find her charming. As if she were a filly or a hound. I’m fine, she said finally.

When do you and Aunt Beatrice leave?

Within the week. We’re waiting for our ship to arrive in Falmouth and shall set sail then.

Have you packed? I hope you bring that beautiful frock with you.

I will, although how many opportunities I shall have to don it remains to be seen.

Sophie giggled. Then you must make your opportunities.

Like when we dressed up in Mama’s old clothing and played tea party as little children.

Precisely.

A gong sounded; the party was about to move into the dining room. One by one under Mama’s direction they seated themselves at the table set for dinner, resplendent with gold rimmed china and crisp white linens. In the centre, her mother’s pride and joy, a silver multi-armed candelabra.

Papa took his usual seat at one end of the long table with Sophie on one side and Bryce on the other. Mama sat at the opposite end with Leah and Beatrice to her right and Catherine to her left. Leah didn’t say much which drew a whispered query from her mother.

Are you ill?

She shook her head. Not hungry is all.

Mrs. Winston has prepared all of your and your sister’s favourites - roast venison and salad for you, pigeon pie for Catherine and turbot in lobster sauce for Sophie. She raised her voice and leaned closer to the table in a conspiratorial manner. This will be our last family gathering for awhile, what with Sophie setting up her household and Leah going with Aunt Beatrice. I wanted to have a memorable meal.

Your dinner parties are always memorable. You excel at them, Leah declared.

A flush came over her mother’s cheeks and she sat back and fanned her face with one beringed hand. ‘Tis a labour of love. I hope setting a nice table and entertaining guests is something you girls will master someday.

How can we not with such a good teacher? Catherine wiped her mouth with her napkin.

A pleased expression crossed Lady Evelyn’s face. I’ve ordered all your favourite desserts too. Trifle, baked custard and sugar biscuits.

A tidy line of footman trooped in, each bearing a platter. Thankfully, conversation dwindled as they began to eat, and Leah didn’t participate in the banter that arose from time to time. Beatrice and her mother spoke around her with Catherine joining in.

At one point between the turbot and the pigeon pies, Beatrice nudged her. Would you like me to help you select your clothing? The climate in Sydney Cove is much different than what you’re used to.

Yes, of course, how thoughtful.

Then she subsided into silence again. Every now and again she couldn’t help herself and she glanced at the other end of the table. Her father and Bryce were engaged in a spirited discussion on the merits of Admiral Nelson during the Napoleonic Wars. This time Sophie gazed adoringly at her husband and Leah had to squeeze shut her eyes to force back the threatening tears. Rubbish. She would find herself in Bedlam if she didn’t soon get over her pain and envy. She put down her head and tucked into the cucumber, beetroot and potato salad on her plate. If she concentrated on her food, she needn’t watch Sophie and Bryce.

Somehow she survived the evening. After tonight, Australia didn’t seem so bad after all.

Chapter Two

A nursemaid, muttered Heath Trevelyan as he stomped down the wharf in Portsmouth. I’ve become a bloody nursemaid.

Not only had his superiors commanded that his ship the HMS Charlotte Mary be used as a temporary transport for convicts to Australia, but once they left Portsmouth, they must dock in Falmouth to pick up the mail for the colony. There they would pick up additional supplies as well as more convicts for the hold. Furthermore, two women would be joining the voyage, one of whom was the wife of one of the British officials in Sydney Cove. Presumably the second would be her maid.

He shook his head. It was bad enough his superiors had directed him to transport convicts. As much as he understood the need to ship the unfortunates to the penal colony as England’s jails were overcrowded, it rankled that he had been called from the front lines. Perhaps it had something to do with his young age of twenty-nine although one would think his sterling record would compensate. Nonetheless, orders were orders but delivering mail and silly women, that really was beyond the pale. On the bright side, mail at least did not require shackles and did not require cosseting.

Heath stopped at the base of the gang plank leading up to his ship, admiring the clean lines and soaring masts of the frigate before mouthing a string of curses. He should be fighting Napoleon. And if not that, then plundering enemy merchant vessels under the letter of marque he carried.

Not delivering mail and playing nanny to a boat load of criminals who didn’t deserve a chance at a second life in the colonies.

He slammed a fist into his palm then squared his shoulders and sucked in a deep breath. He was Captain Heath Trevelyan, of His Majesty’s Royal Navy and he did as he was told.

Australia it was. But, he vowed, he would be back touring the seas as soon as humanly possible.

***

Heath waited for the gang plank to be slid into place. He’d been in Falmouth once or twice, enough to know the customs house squatted at the end of the quay. He’d make inquiries there as to the whereabouts of the final convicts to be transported.

However, once he set foot on the stone quay, a uniformed man scurried up to him. Captain Trevelyan? At Heath’s nod, he saluted. The prisoners are ready to be brought over. The magistrate wants them boarded immediately as they’re known smugglers and popular in these parts. We don’t need them hanging around inciting trouble.

Indeed. Heath cast a longing glance at the far end of the harbor. He’d fancied a bit of a stroll to stretch his legs. Months at sea with only a deck to pace on wore on a man.

The fellow handed him a sheet of paper which Heath scanned immediately.

Only two? he asked. Guy Keats and Samuel Barrington. Keats. He frowned. Keats. Heath knew that name. A local smuggler, well known for his exploits. The wonder was the man hadn’t been nabbed before. He pointed to the name. He’s evaded the authorities for quite some time. How is it you have him?

Oh, quite the story. A local barrister infiltrated his smuggling ring. Caught Keats and his gang in the act. He was none too pleased, I tell you.

I can well imagine. Dash it all. That’s all he needed, an unhappy prisoner to stir unrest among the others. Well, he’d keep him below decks the entire voyage if necessary. Not the most humane situation but tempers could flare in the enclosed confines of a ship, demanding a firm hand.

"And the barrister?