Eland Green: Eland Green Series

By Annette Highsmith

Laura Dubois will marry the Earl of Bancroft—this she is informed of mere moments before departing to the earl's ball. For any other lady, marrying the earl would be a triumph, thanks to his handsome fortune and sprawling estate. But for Laura, nothing could be more egregious than not following her heart. In a burst of courage, she flees the cold earl, careening into a tall man with compassionate blue eyes—eyes that make her feel safe.

 

Percival Simpleton is not as his name suggests. Full of heart, towering, and kind, Percival helps to ease Laura's distress, providing shelter where she might restore herself. But this fateful night in his cottage proves as transformative for the humble dairy farmer as it does for Laura, daughter to a viscount. Their sudden affection for one another leads to danger, but in the end, Percival's beloved village of Eland Green might provide a lifetime's respite for both. This prologue novella introduces a charming village of family, friendship, and the redemption that only love can provide.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Arc-en-Ciel
• Release date: Jun 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9781737222705

Book preview

Chapter 1

Laura Dubois breathlessly scanned the ballroom, her heart beating wildly in her chest and sweat clinging to her brow.

Are you all right, Miss? asked her chaperone, Horatia.

I… merely am in need of refreshment.

Follow me.

As Laura followed Horatia, she couldn’t help but feel as though all eyes were upon her, amidst a crowd of at least a hundred. The ballroom of the Earl of Bancroft’s estate was stifling, and what’s more, the blue silk gown and weighty petticoats her mother insisted that she wear gave Laura a sense of being pulled into the earth—but perhaps, the escape might be favorable.

Is this in regards to what your father expressed? Horatia asked fearfully, ever playing the motherly figure to Laura.

I fear it might be. Laura brought a hand up to her hot cheek and accepted the glass of lemonade that Horatia handed her.

Never you worry. Men do not bite.

Oh, what an abominable thing to say! As if the news that she was to be wed to the Earl of Bancroft left her in fear because she worried about his teeth. The truth of the matter was, Laura had spent little time in the earl’s company and what time she had spent was menacing—much like being in the presence of her father, Lord Beckford.

Laura was grateful that the lemonade was cool upon her lips and throat, and the tart flavor helped her to come to her senses. It wasn’t as though the news of her marriage suddenly struck her out of nowhere. Her father had informed her of the arrangement before she had left for the ball. So why was it, upon standing in the earl’s ballroom—which would be their ballroom—Laura felt as though she might swoon?

Laura considered that it might be the abruptness of it all. She always kept to herself, had become an expert on the harp, and never once had her parents the baron or baroness sent Laura to town for the season. She’d never come out into society nor did she wish to. And yet, out of the blue, she was to become a bride.

My maid did my dress too tight, I fear, Laura said, feeling the back of her gown.

Miss, do not make such a gesture in public, Horatia scolded, shooing Laura’s hands away from herself. Here comes the earl. Please, try to smile, Laura. Even though it is trying.

As the Earl of Bancroft approached, Laura again felt faint. That was her future husband striding towards her—middling in height, with a well-trimmed beard and wide brown eyes. He was also ten years her senior. One could not call the Earl of Bancroft handsome, but then again, Laura Dubois could not be referred to as beautiful.

Miss Dubois, the earl said, offering a distinguished bow.

My lord, she replied, giving curtsy.

I know your father’s announcement was sudden, but please understand how overjoyed I am.

I… I…

And if your chaperone would be so good as to allow us a moment of privacy in my study, I’d be most obliged. The earl presented Horatia with a cold smile.

Horatia, agog for having reached the moment where she may allow Laura to be alone with a man, obliged, saying, Only if I can be seated outside the door, my lord.

Naturally.

Laura was led down a long hallway lined with tapers flickering, great oil paintings of the earl’s lineage lining the walls. Why did it feel as though she’d pass through that hall once and never be allowed to return? Oh, her father was so vexing and wicked for placing her in this predicament!

The earl opened the door to the study and Laura stepped inside, watching as he then shut the door, leaving a stunned Horatia on the other side.

Now, the earl said matter-of-factly, walking over and seating himself at his desk. I understand that all of this seems sudden, Miss Dubois, but the agreement was reached on good terms. It was brought to my attention years ago, after the passing of my father, that the estate would not be secure in my name unless I was wed before my thirtieth birthday, he shared.

Laura stood blinking, at a loss for words.

The earl must have noticed this, for he smiled and continued. Pardon my manners. Would you please be seated? He motioned towards a chair.

Laura walked to the chair tentatively, her knees shaking. It was the first time she was alone in a room with any man other than her father.

If I may speak… Laura began.

The earl raised a hand. That will not be necessary. Knowing you are somewhat opposed to the marriage trade, your father and I thought it fitting that I might fulfill my needs in regards to taking a wife, and you may have the whole ordeal over with quickly. I will purchase a harp.

Laura’s chin trembled as she uttered, That would be most kind.

Is there anything you are compelled to say? the earl asked, toying with his pocket watch in his fingers.

Laura thought it amusing that he now wished to know her thoughts when he had just banished them only a moment ago. She clutched the arms of the chair, fearing that her knuckles had gone white under her gloves.

As the walls were closing in on her and her breath dangerously constricted in her chest—with a force and power she’d never