Mary Nichols

Scandal At Greystone Manor


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      Somehow the day was got through, with Isabel white-faced and their aunt flitting about trying to be helpful.

      Jane was glad when all the preparations were complete and she could go to bed. She undressed and crept between the sheets, but sleep eluded her. She was committed to persuading her sister to go ahead with the marriage, because not to do so would be unkind to the man Jane loved and cause him distress.

      And it would upset her parents. On top of his money worries, it might very well kill her father. Money worries. If only Teddy had not gambled so heavily. If only her sister had not flirted with Andrew Ashton. If only she herself did not love Mark quite so much. Dear Mark. He did not deserve to be embroiled in scandal from any direction. How was it all going to end?

      Author Note

      The quandary central to my main characters may seem strange to modern readers, who would not hesitate to break off an engagement if they realised the love they had hoped for was missing, but in the period in which my story is set the social mores were different. Love was not the only or even the main reason for marrying. Title, wealth, status, the wishes of one’s family and the need to keep an unbroken hierarchy all played a part. Divorce was only for the very wealthy and required an Act of Parliament, and an engagement was a solemn undertaking. A lady might brave the censure of Society and break her promise to marry, but a gentleman never could. It was a dishonourable thing to do and laid him open to being shunned by Society as a man who could not be trusted to keep his word.

      My story is a love story, and my hero and heroine are deeply in love, but the customs of the time prevent them from being together. She has her loyalty to her family and he has his honour, both of which must be satisfied before they can have the happy ending we all look for.

      Scandal at

      Greystone Manor

      Mary Nichols

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Born in Singapore, MARY NICHOLS came to England when she was three, and has spent most of her life in different parts of East Anglia. She has been a radiographer, a school secretary, an information officer and an industrial editor, as well as a writer. She has three grown-up children and four grandchildren.

       Previous novels by the same author:

      RAGS-TO-RICHES BRIDE

       And available through Mills & Boon® Historical eBooks:

      WITH VICTORIA’S BLESSING

       (part of Royal Weddings Through the Ages)

       Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Contents

       Chapter One

       Chapter Two

       Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter One

      April 1817

      ‘Stand still, Issie, do,’ Jane said. ‘How can I pin this hem if you will keep dodging from one foot to the other? And stop admiring yourself in the mirror. We all know what a beautiful bride you will make.’

      It had taken weeks of indecision about colour and style before the heavy cerise silk had been bought and then they could not decide on who was to make it up. ‘You do it,’ Isabel had told her sister. ‘You are every bit as good a seamstress as any London mantua-maker and a great deal better than poor Miss Smith.’

      Jane laughed at the compliment. ‘Very well, but we’ll ask Miss Smith to do the plain stitching. She could do with the work.’ The elderly spinster came from the village three times a week to make petticoats for the ladies as well as repair torn garments and mend the household linen.

      Jane had been doing as much as possible towards the wedding to save a little on the expense. Her mother was determined it would be the wedding of the year, in spite of Sir Edward’s pleas they should not be too extravagant. Jane was perhaps the only one of the family to take any notice of him, but that did not mean Isabel’s wedding would be anything less than perfect if she could help it. She had taken great pains with the gown, making sure it fitted perfectly. It had the fashionable high waist, long sleeves, loose at the top but tight from the elbow down, a heart-shaped neckline and a flowing skirt, trimmed with lace and embroidered with white-and-pink roses. All that was left to do now was stitch up the hem and add the decoration to the neckline and sleeves—yards of ribbon and lace, interspersed with tiny coloured beads. Sewn on by hand with minute invisible stitches, they were going to take some time to do. She did not begrudge the time, nor her sister her happiness, not even at the sacrifice of her own.

      Isabel was to marry Mark Wyndham, heir to Lord Wyndham, who lived with his parents less than three miles away at Broadacres. The families had known each other for years and often visited each other, so the girls and their brother had grown up in close proximity and there was no formality between them. A marriage between Mark and Isabel had been talked about for years as if it were a foregone conclusion, though Mark had not formally proposed until he came back from the Peninsular War, where he had distinguished himself as an aide to Sir Arthur Wellesley, now the Duke of Wellington. The engagement pleased both families and it had relieved the girls’ father, who did not want Isabel to go the way of Jane and become an old maid. To have two unmarried daughters was not good for his self-esteem,