Accidentally Married

By Kathryn Kaleigh

Yours for all time.

Daphne Amirault woke to a normal morning, not knowing that today would be her wedding day. Not only that, but she had one other, perhaps even bigger, problem. Daphne had no groom.

Summoned home by his father, Ambrose Beauséjour imagines the worst. With the country on the brink of war, he braces himself. Instead he soon learns that his father summoned him home for a far more personal reason.

Daphne and Ambrose grew up together as friends. Even as children, they always had each other's back. Would Ambrose be there when Daphne needed him the most?

Step back in time. To a time long ago when a simple kiss meant forever. A heartwarming historical romance set in the 1850s with a happily ever after.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kathryn Kaleigh
• Release date: Aug 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215778333

Kathryn Kaleigh

Kathryn Kaleigh is a bestselling romance novel and short story writer. Her writing spans from the past to the present from historical time travel fantasy novels to sweet contemporary romances. From her imaginative meet-cutes to her happily-ever-afters, her writing keeps readers coming back for more.

Book preview

CHAPTER 2

Daphne Amirault

Standing at the window, I saw Ambrose Beausejour ride past our house.

I knew that he had been summoned. Him along with all the other men in the county.

Ambrose looked tired and weary. I knew he had to be tired and weary from his trip simply because he didn’t look in this direction.

He always looked in this direction as he passed by our house.

He wouldn’t know that I knew this, of course.

No one did. I would never tell anyone.

Despite my current situation, I was a proper young lady. I never broke the rules.

In all my nineteen years, I had never done anything that would be considered improper.

I was the complete opposite of my older sister, Jade. Jade was just as likely to be caught on her horse, racing across a field, jumping a fence, as anything else.

Her waywardness had been so apparent that she had been sent to finishing school. And now she was married to our neighbor, Henri Beausejour.

We had two older brothers, and the only Beausejours our age were boys, so I suppose she really didn’t stand a chance.

I had turned out like her. Nonetheless I was her biggest advocate. Even if it had gotten me into trouble on this specific occasion.

It had happened right after Jade’s wedding. Our cousins from Vicksburg had been invited, of course.

The older of the two, Frederick was the one responsible.

Frederick was engaged to be married in just one month. Everything had been arranged.

As always, I was minding my own business, after the wedding. Doing some writing.

That’s when it had happened.

It wasn’t my fault.

Didn’t matter who’s fault it was.

I was still in the worst possible predicament of my entire life.

Turning, I looked at my reflection in the mirror.

The dress was the most extravagant of all my dresses, its skirts belled out around me. It was a light yellow. A beautiful color for spring.

I had planned to wear it to a spring ball. Probably the Montgomery’s.

But instead, I would be wearing it today.

My wedding day.

When I had gotten up this morning, I had not known that today would be my wedding day.

It was a most disconcerting predicament.

One that I would wager no other bride had ever found herself in.

Even though I would be married today, there was one rather major problem, besides this being unexpected and sudden.

I did not have a groom.

At least not that I knew about.

I would, however, have a groom by five o’clock.

That was the time my father had given me and Father was a man of his word.

Right now, he was at the Beausejour’s at this very moment taking care of what he called this situation.

Miss Daphne. I brought you some tea. You look like you might be beside yourself.

My lady’s maid, Grace, stepped into my room deftly carrying a tray with a pitcher of tea and a little teacup.

Turning away from the window, I swept a hand along my pale-yellow gown.

I think I have every reason to be.

Grace set the tray on my little table with a clatter of china. Her heart was good and loyal, but she had a glaring lack of grace, despite her name.

Come and have some tea. I brought you a beignet, too.

My mood brightened considerably, if only for a moment, at the anticipation of one of the sweet beignets.

Grace would insist that I have chamomile tea to calm my nerves, but she would also know that it was really the sweet, powder-coated beignet that would help my mood the most.

Come to think of it, I hadn’t eaten more than a piece of toast since supper last night. Papa had interrupted my breakfast with his dire announcement.

I had been sitting in the breakfast room with Mamma and my little sister when Papa had stormed into the room and made his announcement.

His words were followed by complete silence for a full minute before he turned and blustered his way out of the room.

Another minute passed as Mamma stared blankly at me.

Then she got up and followed Papa to his study.

When I heard the study door close, I knew there was about to be a heated discussion. If not for the look on Papa’s face, it would have given me hope.

Momma made the decisions where us children were concerned, but when Papa set his mind on something, there would be no changing it.

Andrea looked at me, her eyes wide. You’re getting married?

No, I said, pushing my plate away and delicately dabbing my mouth with my napkin.

Andrea had not believed me. Even at the tender age of fourteen, she already knew Papa well enough to know that this was not going to be one of those times when his mind would be swayed.

Who are you going to marry? she asked, leaning forward with obvious interest. You don’t have a beau.

No one, I said. I’m not going to marry anyone. Papa is being ridiculous.

With that, I shoved back my chair, stood up, and swept from the room.

CHAPTER 3

Ambrose

Our butler, George, met me at the door.

What is going on, George? I asked, ignoring the travel dust that I trailed inside the house with me.

Hushed men’s voice drifted from my father’s study. Men did not speak in hushed voices. Men spoke in loud boisterous voices, especially when there were over half a dozen gathered into the small confines of my father’s study.

It’s good that you’re home, George said. Things have gotten out of hand.

Unlike most butlers, George did not hesitate to speak his mind.

Out of hand, how? I asked, handing George my coat. He took it, but held it out at arm’s length.

You should join the men in your father’s study.

Aren’t you going to tell me— George turned and walked away, taking my coat with him. No. I don’t suppose you are.

It would have been nice to have some kind of explanation before I walked into what I feared would be a lion’s den.

Since whatever it was had been urgent enough to summon me home from Boston, I did not have time to waste. Apparently, I had made it home just in time.

Surprised to find the door to the study open, I stood in the doorway, taking in the situation.

My father sat behind his desk, but it was immediately clear that this was not his meeting.

Mr. Amirault stood in front of Father’s desk, leaning back against it. Two men I didn’t recognize lounged on Father’s armchairs. Five other men sat in wooden straight back chairs that had been brought in for the occasion.

So the meeting consisted of my father, sort of, Mr. Amirault, and seven men. It was rather odd that the men I did recognize were all bachelors.

Again, I thought this must have something to do with the south seceding from the Union. It seemed to be all anyone could talk about. They talked about it so much there was no way it wasn’t going to happen.

Perhaps we should just draw straws, one of the men lounging closest to Father’s desk suggested.

Maybe, Mr. Amirault said, seeming to consider the possibility.

No, Father said, standing up. I can’t let you do that. The situation is far too serious.

Well, we have to do something, an older fellow, the oldest in the group said. Everything is set for five o’clock. That’s barely three hours from now.

I recognized him as a widower. Miller or Milton or maybe Mulberry. Probably at least in his late thirties and he was raising two children on his own. Somehow he didn’t fit with the other men. Surely they weren’t going to send him to war. What would become of his children?

The other men murmured their agreement.

Has anyone thought to ask the young lady’s preference? The youngest of the group asked. I’d seen him around, but had never been introduced. He was still wet behind the ears and I would have had no need for his acquaintance up to this point.

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. Why would any man ask a lady’s preference about anything related to war?

Something was most definitely off-kilter here.

That’s not a bad idea, Father said, coming around his desk.

We can’t do that, the older widower said. It’s already gone past that. Besides, we all know what she will say.

I have to agree, Mr. Amirault said. Women can’t be trusted to be rational.

Father spotted me standing there then and I saw the relief wash over his features.

Ambrose. Come in, he said. Join us.

I took a step forward, but that was close enough for me.

What’s going on here? I asked, looking from my father to the Mr. Amirault, purposely ignoring the other men.

A situation has arisen, Father said.

What’s he doing here? someone asked.

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