Miss Mulberry and the Moody Marquess (UNLIKELY IN LOVE #1) by Chasity Bowlin EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Chasity Bowlin
- Language: English
- Genre: Historical Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 3.2 MB
- Price: Free
June, 1825
Miss Charlotte Mulberry stared straight ahead. With her gaze fixed
solidly on the vicar as he prepared to deliver the somnific weekly
sermon, she could at least feign ignorance of their presence. Her
former betrothed, the Right Honorable Mr. Arliss Cranford, the man she had
agreed to marry and whom she had been engaged to wed for far too many
years on the pretext of his limited means, had broken their agreement and
wed another. Too poor to marry Charlotte, he’d found himself wealthy
enough to marry another. Or perhaps the other had been wealthy enough to
tempt him away.
Her awareness of his appearance—their appearance—had nothing to do
with him, per se. There was no awareness of him. No intimate connection
that called to her. Rather, it was the low thrum of whispers amongst the
parishioners. To maintain what little dignity she still possessed, Charlotte
simply refused to react. Let everyone whisper and stare and gossip. Let
them. She would maintain her composure. No one would see her tremble
and shake. No one would see her tears. She would smile and wish them
well if she was confronted with the need to speak to them at all and she
would not, above all else, she would not ask the question that plagued her
endlessly. Why? Why had she not been enough?
The whispers suddenly stopped. Indeed, the entire congregation went
completely silent. Not even the shuffling of feet could be heard from the
pews. Against her will and against all good sense, Charlotte did turn then.
And what she saw was beyond shocking. No wonder the congregation had
been stunned to muteness. For striding through the doors to the church,
sweeping down the center aisle in his great coat, with a fashionable beaver
hat tucked beneath his arm, was none other than the Marquess Aimsbury.
One might assume such a man would be more for town than their
simple country village. But no. He was perfectly content, as content as a
man of his somewhat solemn disposition could be, to rusticate in the
countryside. He was simply not one to be social. Ever. For any reason. At
all. When he spoke, it was single syllables, primarily restricted to simple
yes and no responses to things asked of him.
There were no pleasantries
exchanged. No talk of weather or such banal pursuits passed his lips. The
man, known far and wide as the Moody Marquess, was simply a
curmudgeon. A young, handsome but terribly brooding curmudgeon.
And he’d chosen that day of all days to attend church. So he would have
Charlotte’s undying gratitude for diverting attention from her and her
marital, or lack of martial, woes. Offering up a silent prayer of thanks to the
Almighty for the mysterious ways in which He had chosen to deliver her
from abject humiliation yet again, she was painfully aware of the gate
opening to the pew behind her.
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