Nothing but time, p.1
Nothing But Time, page 1
Nothing But Time
A Family of Worth: Book One
Sherry Ewing
Contents
Nothing But Time
Other Books By Sherry Ewing
Nothing But Time
Copyright
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Bonus Material
Dear Reader
Rumors about in London once more
A Reluctant Bride
A not so casual stroll in the park
Someone Always Sees
Other Books by Sherry Ewing
Social Media
Coming Soon
About the Author
Nothing But Time
By Sherry Ewing
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Bestselling author Sherry Ewing brings you a new Regency era series in Nothing But Time: A Family of Worth, Book One.
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They will risk everything for their forbidden love…
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When Lady Gwendolyn Marie Worthington is forced to marry a man old enough to be her father, she concludes love will never enter her life. Her husband is a cruel man who blames her for his own failings. Then she meets her brother’s attractive business associate, and all those longings she had thought gone forever suddenly reappear.
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A long-term romance holds no appeal for Neville Quinn, Earl of Drayton until an unexpected encounter with the sister of the Duke of Hartford. Still, he resists giving his heart to another woman, especially one who belongs to another man.
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Chance encounters lead to intimate dinners, until Neville and Gwendolyn flee to Berwyck Castle at Scotland’s border hoping beyond reason their fragile love will survive the vindictive reach of Gwendolyn’s possessive husband. Before their journey is over, Gwendolyn will risk losing the only love she has ever known.
Other Books by Sherry Ewing
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Medieval & Time Travel Series
If My Heart Could See You
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Hearts Across Time: The Knights of Berwyck,
A Quest Through Time Novel (Books One & Two)
A special box set of For All of Ever & Only For You
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For All of Ever: The Knights of Berwyck,
A Quest Through Time Novel (Book One)
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Only For You: The Knights of Berwyck,
A Quest Through Time Novel (Book Two)
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A Knight To Call My Own
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To Follow My Heart: The Knights of Berwyck,
A Quest Through Time Novel (Book Three)
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Regency’s
Under the Mistletoe
A Kiss for Charity
Nothing But Time, A Family of Worth: Book One
Nothing But Time
A Family of Worth: Book One
Sherry Ewing
Kingsburg Press
San Francisco, California
Copyright © 2017 by Sherry Ewing.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods.
Kingsburg Press
P.O. Box 475146
San Francisco, California 94147
www.KingsburgPress.com
Nothing But Time, A Family of Worth: Book One is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Front Cover Photo by SelfPubBookCovers.com/woofie_2015
Front cover fonts, Spine and Back Cover Design by Claudia Bost at www.designsbycwb.com
Editor: Jude Knight
Nothing But Time, A Family of Worth: Book One/Sherry Ewing -- 1st ed.
ISBN 13: 978-0-9971777-7-0
eBook ISBN: 978-0-9971777-8-7
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017905763
Dedication
For my dearest friend Stephanie.
You and I have been to hell and back over the years spanning our friendship. Through all the laughter and tears, I know you’re always only a phone call away, although we really need to cross the bridge and have some face to face time soon. Thank you for always being there for me, along with your wonderful husband Paul who reads my books as your stand in.
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I love you Steffie… to the moon and back!
Acknowledgments
A special shout out and word of thanks to my beta readers, Jude Knight, Tricia Linden and Caroline Warfield for taking time out of their busy schedules to read Nothing But Time. You ladies went above and beyond in your comments to make my work better, and I appreciate all your efforts.
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I would also like to thank Jude Knight for her editing services. You took my final document and made it shine. Thank you for helping me find the holes in my plot or solving questions regarding this period in time. I couldn’t have done this without you.
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Thank you to the San Francisco Area Chapter of Romance Writers of America. I continue to be amazed at this incredible group of authors who offer their unwavering support. My books wouldn’t be where they are without you!
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Last, but certainly not least, I continue to be thankful to my family for all their support. I know I’m missing out on a lot of sparkling conversations but I know you understand when I have to pay attention to those pesky voices inside my head. I love you with all my heart.
Chapter 1
London 1808
Lady Gwendolyn Marie Worthington strode across the floor of her brother’s study, carelessly threw her bonnet onto a high backed leather chair, and crossed her arms. The missive she held in her hand had driven all thoughts of a trip to the milliner with her friend Lady Calliope out of her head. Her shoe tapped a rapid staccato on the wooden floorboards. Her brother remained indifferent to her demand for his attention whilst he continued writing. The insufferable lout did not even have the decency to acknowledge her presence in his pursuit to finish his correspondence. She cleared her throat, hoping to gain his notice.
He continued whatever business he was attending to without a pause, except to say, in a barely civil and flat monotone, “You did not knock.” His disinterest in her presence served as a reminder of his place within his household, as if she could ever forget she was subject to his directives.
Her brother had had the arrogance to send a servant to deliver his note to her bedroom. He should have come there himself to speak with her, given the news he wished to impart. She tossed the crumbled parchment onto his desk. He, in turn, swatted it aside like it was nothing but a pesky insect.
“You have been given your instructions, Gwendolyn. We have nothing further to discuss.”
“Do not take that tone with me, Edmond. You may hold our father’s title, but that in no way gives you leave to treat me as if I must comply with demands such as these,” she fumed. Where had her carefree older brother of years past gone? Surely some measure of the young man she had adored in their youth lurked behind the expressionless mask of this unfeeling cad before her?
Edmond Gerard Worthington, 9th Duke of Hartford, set his quill down. The blue eyes he at last bothered to turn upon her were just as cold as his voice. Since he had inherited his rightful title of duke after their father’s passing, along with all the responsibilities such a position held, Gwendolyn hardly recognized her brother. She swallowed hard, knowing she could not easily sway this uncaring man. Still, she had to try.
“Mother will hear of this,” she warned. “She will not allow her only daughter to be wed to a man in order to fulfill some business deal made years ago.”
“Mother is fully aware of the obligations that must be met. I should not have to explain how things of this nature are done, sister. Arranged marriages happen every day within the ton. Yours will be no exception.”
“Brandon, then. Surely my younger brother cares what happens to his sister since you have made it painfully obvious you do not,” Gwendolyn retorted sharply.
“He is my brother, too, if you would care to remember.” Edmond sighed heavily. “Both mother and Brandon have been summoned to return to London immediately. The marriage contract was agreed years ago and bears the signatures of all parties, including your own. You would have already been wed, had it not been for father’s death.” Edmond leaned his elbows upon his desk, fingers forming a steeple as if contemplating his next counter to whatever argument she could muster.
She quickly thought of the first excuse that crossed her mind. “I am still in mourning,” Gwendolyn declared through clenched lips.
His eyes roamed down the length of her pink floral gown and his brows rose in unsuppressed amusement. “Your mourning period is long since over, as your garments surely attest. Resign yourself to wedding Lord Sandhurst.”
She stomped her foot in frustration. “Bernard Sandhurst is a lecherous old man and ancient enough to be my father.” She barely held back a cry of despair. “How can you condemn me to a life with that horrible person, however long the vermin will still remain on this earth?”
“I am doing the best I can to save this family from financial ruin. You should be grateful Sandhurst will still have you, given the limited amount I could spare for your dowry. I will not be swayed in my decision, Gwendolyn, and Sandhurst can no longer be put off. He has all but stated his time waiting for you is over. He has been as patient as one could ask of a man getting on in years. You are now twenty years of age and should have been wed with children of your own by now.”
Thoughts of being intimate with a man who repulsed Gwendolyn made her shudder. The few times she had had the displeasure of being alone in the same room with Lord Bernard Sandhurst, he had mauled her with his cool clammy hands. He reminded her of a fish, and an unappealing one at that.
“Edmond─”
Her brother cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Father made this decision and you must abide by it, along with the rest of us.” Edmond picked up his quill and examined the tip before dipping it into the inkwell.
“You are a duke, Edmond. Surely you can pay the man off so I can find a worthy man to love.” She silently pleaded with him, and, for the briefest instant, she held the smallest measure of hope he would accede to her wishes.
His piercing blue eyes leveled on her but briefly. “Love is for fools. Better to marry for wealth and a decent position in society than to lose your heart to such a frivolous emotion as love.” Edmond returned to his work, the quill scratching across the parchment. The sound echoed in her head as though the missive sealed her fate. “Resign yourself to your marriage Gwendolyn. Sandhurst has made arrangements for the wedding to take place two weeks hence.”
A sound escaped her that was part moan, part disbelief. “Do not do this to me, Edmond. There must be another alternative.” She choked back a sob, covering her mouth to stop herself berating him for marrying her off to a man for whom she could never have even the slightest measure of affection.
Her brother looked up and Gwendolyn saw a brief instant of regret flashing in his eyes before he returned to his work. “It is done. There is nothing I can do to change the situation.”
“You have no heart, Edmond. I will hate you for this until I take my last dying breath,” she vowed with a raised fist.
“I know…” he whispered solemnly.
Gwendolyn ran from the study never wishing to see her brother again. A fortnight later, she was being handed into a carriage by her husband after their short emotionless wedding ceremony. Such an occasion should have been one of the happiest days of her life. Instead, her descent into hell had only just begun.
Chapter 2
Neville Quinn, Earl of Drayton, took out his watch fob and made note of the time. His latest mistress, Mrs. Cassandra Vaughn, was—as usual—late for their luncheon. Although the woman was a convenient distraction from his normal daily life, perhaps it was necessary to let her find another benefactor. He held no form of emotional attachment to the woman and that sentiment went both ways. It was time for him to move on to find either a more accommodating mistress who would not keep him constantly waiting, or else a wife. Heaven forbid the latter.
Neville had just about given up hope of her joining him, when he saw Cassandra enter the dining room. She was a beautiful woman and she, of course, knew it. She curved in all the right places, her hips swaying whilst she made her way towards him. She drew the attention of every gentleman in the room like an actress taking center stage in the theater, demanding their concentration.
With her blonde flaxen hair, green come-hither eyes, and honeyed smooth skin, she was a temptation most men would sell their very soul to the devil to spend even an hour with. No simpering miss was this lady. She was a woman who knew what she wanted in life, generally grabbing a hold of whatever, or whoever, took her fancy and to hell with what Society thought of her. Neville had grown tired of her being fawned over by all the young fops whenever they were out in public.
He stood, pulling out her chair, before resuming his seat. He made a motion to a nearby servant that the first course could be served. “I took the liberty of ordering for you. I have another appointment this afternoon directly after we dine,” Neville stated matter-of-factly before taking a sip of his wine.
“I am sorry to be late, darling,” Cassandra purred leaning closer. “Can you not put off business for the afternoon? I thought perhaps we could return to my apartment to spend a leisurely evening together.”
“I am afraid I must decline, Cassandra. I chose this establishment because I hope to arrange a meeting with some gentlemen who are also dining here today.”
“Really? Who are you meeting?” Her eyes scanned the room as if she were sizing up the occupants for their importance on the social ladder within the ton.
Neville gave the briefest of nods towards the right of their own table. “The Duke of Hartford and his brother, Lord Brandon Worthington are dining with their mother and sister.” His eyes strayed to the younger lady at the table. The gentlemen’s sister, Lady Sandhurst, was indeed a beautiful woman. Her husband was a lucky man.
“A duke?” Cassandra could barely contain her excitement and he could see she was about to beg him for an introduction.
“Do not bother to ask, my dear. I hardly think introducing my mistress is appropriate with two well-bred women in attendance at the duke’s table.”
She pouted, as though such a ploy had ever swayed him in the past. “As if I care what they think of me.” She picked up her wine glass and examined Hartford from across the room.
Neville studied her and, if he had any doubts about continuing their association, her interest in Hartford confirmed what he already knew. It was time for him to move on.
“He is currently without a mistress, if that is what you are wondering,” Neville muttered off-handedly. “He may be interested in taking another, if you are drawn to him.” Their lunch arrived and Neville began to eat, not bothering to wait for Cassandra’s answer, since she was entirely engrossed in studying Hartford.
She continued her perusal of the man across the room before finally setting her glass down. Absentmindedly, she twirled the crystal stem between her long delicate fingers as it rested upon the table. At last, she gave a heavy sigh before she picked up her fork and proceeded to push her food around her plate. “You could cast me off that easily, Drayton? Do you not hold even the smallest increment of affection for me within that icy heart of yours?”
He wiped his mouth with a napkin before leaning back in his chair, replying quietly so their conversation would not be overheard by those nearby. “I am hardly passing you off to anyone, Cassandra. It is entirely your choice whom you plan to take as your next lover.”
“Will you not miss me?”
Neville suppressed a chuckle. “Let us not play games, my dear. You and I both agreed we would not claim any emotional attachments in our relationship, especially when we decided to go our separate ways.”
“You could, at the very least, feign a touch of sorrow at our parting to mend my bruised ego,” Cassandra replied. She gave him a small smile, proof that she was little grieved at ending their association.
