When an accidental wish is granted, can two surprised lovers overcome their past?

Beatrix Crofton doesn’t believe in wishes. But when she’s blackmailed with a packet of her father’s incriminating letters, she’ll do anything to escape being forced into marriage. Which is how finds herself at a wishing well. In the dead of night under the light of a full moon, she closes her eyes and makes a desperate wish. But midway through, her mind wanders back to a long lost love…

When Beatrix first rescues Hugh Thacker, the Duke of Vandemere, then comes to him for help, he knows exactly what to do. Losing her once froze Hugh’s heart. This time, he’ll marry her himself to save her from a despicable fate.

Marrying Beatrix is easy. Keeping her is something else. Old hurts and betrayals come to the surface once more as Hugh must try to help Beatrix’s father, a man he once exposed as a fraud. Their painful history might be too much to overcome, and time is running out.  If Hugh loses Beatrix a second time, it will destroy him.

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Please enjoy a currently uncorrected and unedited first peek at the first chapter!

April 1815, the wilds of —shire

“When I said I would do anything, I didn’t mean this.” Beatrix Crofton trudged up the incline trailing her friend, Sarah Blythe.

It was the dead of night—with a bit too much emphasis on dead for Beatrix’s taste, especially when they’d cut through the churchyard to find start of the old cow path. A full moon spilled silvery light upon the earth. From the trees came the call of a long-eared owl. She inhaled, that earthy smell of overgrown land after a recent rain a heady perfume in her nose.

Up until last week, she’d have done anything to help her father. Anything. In fact, time and again, she’d done exactly that.

“My grandmother said that when she was a girl, the wish she made at this well was granted within three days.” Sarah’s tone was purely factual, as if discussing how to treat a sick prize pig with a worried swine farmer.

Beatrix huffed. “I don’t believe in such things.”

“But it can’t hurt, can it?”

No sooner had Sarah posed the question than Beatrix’s toe came into contact with something hard. Very hard. Wincing, she cried out, pain flashing up her leg. Insult to serious injury—for she already faced being forced to marry that odious man who was blackmailing them.

Oh, she’d do it. If she had to. But there were any other choice—any at all—she’d __. Which is how she’d ended up allowing her friend to talk her into this absurd lark and how she still found herself pushing through the overgrowth, brambles catching on her grey woolen cape. Beatrix might not believe in wishes. If the unseen forces of the world held a different view, however, she was willing to attempt exploiting it.

“Are you all right?”

Beatrix leaned one hand on the rough surface of a nearby tree trunk for balance while holding her assaulted appendage with the other. “I think it’s a sign we ought to turn back.”

“I thought you said you didn’t believe in such things as signs.”

“I said I didn’t believe that wishes could be granted.” Beatrix tugged off her half boot and held it under her arm to more properly massage the aching toe. Desperate though she might be, she was beginning to feel ridiculous.

“Well, it’s practically the same thing, isn’t it? Signs appearing as if guided by the hand of Fate and the granting of wishes.” Her friend’s voice was soft and earnest in all the ways Sarah herself was soft and earnest.

“But I thought you did believe.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“If I’m the one who has to believe for this to work, we might never have set out in the first place. I’m never going to believe.” Beatrix set to work replacing her shoe. “Never.”

“We’ve come this far. You don’t really want to turn around, do you?”

“I left the comfort of a warm bed for this.” In a little patch of open earth to one side, mushrooms of various sizes stood together in a ring, the moonlight seeming to make the pale forms luminesce with an otherworldly glow. Even Beatrix had to admit—and only within the privacy of her own thoughts—that a little fairy could appear there any moment.

She sent a cautious look to her friend to see if Sarah had caught sight of the mushrooms, too.

But Sarah was occupied with studying Beatrix thoughtfully. “What a shame it would be to give up now, don’t you think?”

Beatrix cast her gaze up to a spangled sky and shook her head. She inhaled, then let out a long breath.

“You needn’t sound like that.” The night sky emitted enough light to illuminate the way Sarah’s brows drew together. “I’m only trying to help.”

“Sound like what?” Beatrix frowned.

“Like you’re so very put upon, with your great sighs.”

“I am indulging you in this nonsense, you know.”

Sarah made a moue. “Be that as it may, I’d appreciate it if you indulged me a little more quietly.”

“I must own that I feel terribly foolish. Surely you must have some sympathy, however little, within you for that.”

“You’ll feel far more foolish if you’re stuck for the next twenty or more years as Sir Walter’s wife.”

“I could do very well without hearing his name spoken.”

“And what does that tell you, exactly?”

There Sarah had her. Anything was better than that, even going to a wishing well and pretending that the Fates were watching, ready to intervene at the moment Beatrix made the proper appeal. “Are we really almost there?”

“Yes, we’re really almost there.”

They trudged on over the rocky, uneven ground laced with gnarled tree roots. The farther they went, the thicker the trees became, and the darker the night. Until at last they came through a small clearing.

“You see? I told you we were almost there.”

“Where is it?”

The open space was clear of any indication of a well.

“Over here. Watch yourself, now.” Sarah took Beatrix’s hand as she brought them up a small rise. “Mind you don’t fall in.”

They came to a gaping hole in the ground. Not what Beatrix had expected. “It’s an old well.”

Sarah nodded.

Beatrix was putting her foot down for the last step when the lumpy ground beneath her tread wiggled. She jumped, tumbling backward, and landing with a hard thump on her backside.

“What is it? What happened?” Sarah leaned over her, reaching to help her back up again.

The lump where Beatrix had stepped issued an insulted croak and hopped away into the tall grasses. “I think I stepped on a toad.” She climbed back to her feet, rubbing herself. Come tomorrow, there’d be an unsightly bruise on an unmentionable place.

“A toad? Well, don’t let it get away. We have to find it so you can kiss it.”

Beatrix froze. “What?”

Sarah burst out laughing. “Oh, I wish you could see your expression. How could you really think me serious?”

“It makes about as much sense as throwing something into a well and—oh. I forgot a ha-penny.”

Sarah gave Beatrix an odd look. “Whatever do you need money for here?”

“I thought I had to wish by throwing a coin into the water.”

“Oh, no. Anything will do.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. What do you have?”

Beatrix thought for a minute, making a mental catalogue of all she had on her person. Oft-repaired stays. Worn chemise. Sturdy gown. Darned stockings. “Oh! Hairpins.”

“No, that won’t do.”

“Why not? You said anything would.”

“Yes, but that’d be a waste of a perfectly good hairpin.”

“But if my wish is granted, I’ll be able to buy as many hairpins as I please. And I am going to wish for money.” Beatrix was lying. Unbeknownst to Sarah, the problem was a little more complicated than a simple lack of funds. Unfortunately, some things couldn’t be spoken aloud. Best to let her believe it all came down to the need for a quick fortune.

Because in truth, Sir Walter wasn’t pressing his suit upon Beatrix to help her out of poverty. He was blackmailing her. Years ago, Beatrix’s father had penned some damning letters. They should have been burnt immediately by the recipient. They hadn’t been. Her father had retrieved them, but only to lose them in a game of cards. He’d said he’d thought he couldn’t lose. Funny that, because he usually did.

She needed a way out. A lifetime of marriage to Sir Walter was far too high a price to pay for her father’s indiscretion. She’d do it if she had to—what choice did she have? But she’d do anything, even make a silly wish in a wishing well to be given another option.

“Oh, no you have to be more specific.”

“How can I be more specific than wanting money?”

“You have to think about the means. It’s not just going to rain money. And I have to say that if your wish is granted, I think you’ll still be as much of a pinch-penny as ever. It’s in your character.”

“I’m not a pinch-penny. I’m frugal. I have to be.”

“I know. I know.” Sarah gave Beatrix a nod that was nothing if not indulgent. “But with yourself, you most certainly are a pinch-penny, even you must own that. You’re extremely generous with others, almost to a fault, and I say if you ever took it into your head to wish for money and the wish was granted, you’ll give it all away except enough to live on simply and be quiet content with your lot in life.”

“I am content.”

“You are not. Else we wouldn’t be here.”

“Except for that, of course. And I wouldn’t want more than I needed. Why would anyone want more?” Beatrix couldn’t fathom anything so foolish. Although, it was an absurd question, even to her ears. Thousands of people wanted more than they needed. Perhaps almost everyone. Maybe it was simply a part of the human condition.

Sarah seemed to be thinking close to the same lines. “Yes, let’s stand here and debate that question, shall we?”

Against all odds, a smile pulled over Beatrix’s lips. It was the finest of things to have a friend such a Sarah. Sarah’s whimsy balanced Beatrix’s tendency to be far too serious, and her tart tongue never failed to amuse, even in a situation such as this.

She bent to pick up a white stone and pressed it into Beatrix’s hand. “There’s your wish.”

Holding the fragment upon her palm, Beatrix brought it closer to her face for better examination. “It’s small.”

“Do you want a larger one?”

“Wouldn’t a larger one make my wish more likely to come true?”

“You think so?”

“I’m asking you.” Beatrix gave her friend a flat look. “You’re the expert.”

It was Sarah’s turn to laugh. “You’re beginning to believe. I can tell.”

“I assure you, I am not. Wishes don’t come true—not in this way, they don’t.”

Around them, a light breeze rustled the new spring growth around them. Beatrix shivered. It was as if a spirit were roused by her assertion.

Which was utterly absurd. Her mouth compressed.

Sarah found a larger stone. “Just make the wish, won’t you?”

Beatrix took it. “You never told me in just what way I was to be more specific.”

Her friend sighed. “Yes, I did. I said think about the means.”

“Very well. I wish—” Beatrix was poised to fling the rock into the well when Sarah grabbed her by the wrist. “What?”

“First, you can’t say it aloud or it won’t come true.” Her eyes were wide with warning. “Second, you’re not imagining what it is you want, I can tell.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No. You’re humoring me.”

Beatrix smiled. “I thought we’d already established that I was humoring you.”

“Think of Sir Walter.”

Her smile vanished. “Please do not say his name.” The response was sharper on Beatrix’s tongue than she’d meant it to be.

“Saying his name isn’t going to summon him, you know.”

“I hate hearing it. Pray indulge me.”

“Very well, then, think of being his wife. Think of being Lady Dursdon.”

A wave of revulsion passed through Beatrix. It was the fate she was facing, though, wasn’t it? Tossing a stone into a well wasn’t going to solve anything. There was no way out. She was going to have to marry him. “He’s not…he’s not so bad.” She could have bitten out her tongue for such a vile lie.

“I can’t see you go to him. I can’t. It’s wrong. So wrong. If his twelve thousand a year isn’t enough to entice people out of their revulsion of him, he must be the most odious man alive. There’s no two ways about it.”

Beatrix sighed. “Be that as it may, I ought to accept it. It’s horribly selfish of me not to, isn’t it? It’s not as if I have any romantic inclinations. Me at my age with no fortune, even if I did hold any—I’d have no hope.” She had once, though. Romantic inclinations, that was. Once upon a time there had been someone—someone she couldn’t have.

And with when he went, so did all hope of ever marrying for love.

Yet he lingered, that man, like the vestiges of not-quite-forgotten dream.

“No.” Sarah’s grip grew firmer. “It’s not selfish to want a good life for yourself and to resolve your father’s debt by means other than marrying yourself off to that odious old codger who stinks of fish guts.”

“He’s an odious old codger, I’ll grant you, but he doesn’t stink of fish guts.”

“Well, he certainly looks as if he does…which is essentially the same thing.”

Beatrix’s nose crinkled. “He does smell rather of stagnant old pond.”

“Imagine lying with him in the marital b—”

“No!” Panic flooded her at even the barest mention of submitting to a wifely duty with that man. “No. That’s quite enough, I assure you.” Beatrix drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes, her mind drifting back five years to that idyllic summer of him, when she’d had quite a different idea of how her life would turn out.

If she could have that again…

If they could go back to erase the betrayal, somehow, someway…

If she could have a second chance, even one night to do something well and truly wicked with him before she gave herself over to the inevitable…

No. It was more likely to rain money than ever have a chance like that again. Some things came around only once in a lifetime.

Beatrix held the rock in her hand above the well, a shiver going up her spine. She let go.

There should have been a splash. Or a clink of stone against stone, if the well were dry.

There wasn’t.

Instead, there was a odd thump. Then a very deep, very masculine voice sounded from below. “Ouch.”

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