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  MISS GEORGE’S SECOND CHANCE

  Miss Mayhem Novella Series - Book 2

  by

  Heather Boyd

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  MISS GEORGE’S SECOND CHANCE

  Copyright 2013 by Heather Boyd

  Published November 2013

  LLD Press

  Edited by Sandra Sookoo

  Cover Design by Heather Boyd

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.

  For more information visit:

  www.heather-boyd.com

  When desperately private writer Imogen offered to marry Peter Watson it wasn’t just to save a friend but to secure her own future. With her eyesight failing and no other prospects for marital bliss on the horizon, surely it wouldn’t be too horrible to marry without the benefits of love. But then Peter gains a title a week before they’re set to wed and all of Imogen’s expectations change.

  Peter once believed that marriage to Imogen would solve his financial problems. He didn’t mind marrying for convenience and a large fortune when affection was within reach. Yet when he gains a title, an estate, and a fortune of his own the secretive writer releases him from their engagement so he might marry for love instead. Now he’s returned, unwed and unaware of changes in her life, should he do what is expected or listen to his heart instead?

  PROLOGUE

  June, 1814

  Brighton Shoreline

  Difficult situations required desperate measures. Imogen George–writer, spinster and pragmatist–steeled her heart to be as brutal as any heroine before her had ever been. “Have you sulked enough Mr. Watson?”

  The man sitting on the dark Brighton shoreline surged to his feet and then faced her. “Hell’s bells, what are you doing here?”

  Imogen clenched her hands together to hide their trembling. Standing on the dark beach, waves crashing around them, made her meeting with her best friend’s brother potentially romantic though she doubted it would be. “I have a proposition for you, Mr. Watson. Do sit down.”

  She limped forward, annoyed that her clumsiness at dinner earlier in the evening at his house had robbed her of her dignity. It was not every day she pursued a man for conversation, even when he was her best friends elder brother. She was taking quite a risk being here but it was within her power to improve their lot. Peter Watson may lack the good sense to detect and seize his only chance for security, but Imogen would not. She had a plan for her life and Mr. Peter Watson would suit her needs perfectly.

  When she found the place she meant to sit, Mr. Watson remembered his manners and gallantly swept his coat from his shoulders and spread it on the ground so she might rest upon it. She was pleased to see that even while desperate, he did retain some good qualities. Her hopes for a smooth resolution soared.

  “Where is your chaperone, Miss George?” Mr. Watson asked suddenly, squinting into the darkness toward the township where their respective homes lay.

  With her eyesight as poor as it was, Imogen couldn’t say for certain in which direction her reluctant chaperone, her brother Walter, stood, so she waved her hand airily in the direction she’d left him, hoping her companion would not notice or point out if she were utterly wrong. “Walter is over there. Never mind about him for the present. Do sit down so I may avoid suffering a pained neck from looking up at you.”

  As Mr. Watson sank to the ground nearby, a weary sigh left his lips. “I am sorry I tumbled you over earlier tonight, Miss George. You have no idea how sorry.”

  “I did say at the time not to concern yourself unduly.” In truth, Imogen was often clumsy outside her home. The objects of her surroundings were less likely to jump out and trip her up if she stayed in familiar territory. Friends frequently moved their furniture and if she could see with any degree of certainty, she would never have stood in Peter’s way to have been in danger. As it was, the world was a trifle fuzzy at times—tonight being one of those. “The collision was as much my fault as yours.”

  How did Mr. Watson take her presence she couldn’t tell, but she was determined to press on regardless. There was no point beating about the bush when she judged speed was worth being somewhat more forward. She had a solution to offer Mr. Watson that would meet his immediate need and her future requirements. “Marry me.”

  Her mouth grew dry and she swallowed, preparing for his response.

  At her side, Mr. Watson furiously rubbed his ear. When he lowered his hand and did not turn his head in her direction, she repeated her proposal in a louder voice. “I asked you to marry me, Mr. Watson. What do you have to say about that?”

  “That’s what I thought I heard,” he muttered. “I don’t need pity.”

  Imogen heaved a heavy sigh. It had been too much to hope that he would leap on her proposal and agree immediately. A long discussion was undoubtedly necessary to secure his agreement. “I know. And I’m not offering you a bit of it. You need money. Immediately, or you will lose your home and perhaps be forced to debtor’s prison. Your sister’s heart is in danger of breaking if such a calamity should come to pass. I can help get you out of your predicament with little effort on your part and none at all on mine. It is a perfect arrangement.”

  He dug a hole in the sand between them with his fingers. “Surely there is someone you fancy to marry rather than me?”

  She bent a look at him that she hoped conveyed her skepticism. “At my age? Society has me placed firmly on the shelf. It really is very simple to understand my motives: I would like not to live out all my days under my brother’s roof. However, I’d rather not strike out on my own in order to gain a measure of independence. Society is unforgiving to a woman who challenges the conventions of proper behavior.”

  Mr. Watson scowled fiercely. “Society is stupid. You could marry anyone you want. Any one of your brother’s friends, in fact.”

  Dash it all. Mr. Watson was the most stubborn man she had ever met. Would he lose the shirt off his back before he accepted help? Perhaps she should forget this. But then again there was no one else she’d consider making this offer to. “A confectioner is always an option for marriage I suppose. I do like caramels.”

  Mr. Watson ceased digging. “Linus Radley would be interested.”

  Really, this was all too mortifying. Did she have to go as far as beg? She and Mr. Radley had nothing in common at all. “Oh for goodness sake. Am I discussing marriage with Mr. Radley? No, I am speaking to you, Mr. Watson.”

  “There is Hawke.”

  Imogen laughed. Abigail, Mr. Watson’s sister and her dearest friend, had undoubtedly fallen head over heels for the reserved banker next door and Imogen wouldn’t interfere where there was no chance of success. Judging by Mr. Hawke’s besotted looks through dinner that night it was very likely that a proposal could be in the wind. But it hadn’t happened yet and there was no telling how long the banker would dither over the matter. “Don’t be so foolish. Mr. Hawke has other prey in sight. I couldn’t turn his head if I tried. I’ve chosen you so just agree and be done with it, or do you have an heiress waiting in the wings?”

  Mr. Watson hunched forward, hugging his arms about his knees. “What heiress would take me?”

  Stubborn, and feeling very sorry for himself. Mr. Watson was trying her patience. If Imogen was prone to violence there were any number of scolds she could inflict on him. Yet, Peter Watson needed her help and she needed him too. “Well, there is one sitting at your side right now, pe
rhaps not a great heiress, but one who is offering you her hand in marriage.”

  There was a long pause, and Imogen took a moment to adjust her position to accommodate her sore bottom while she waited on Mr. Watson to see sense.

  After a time, Watson glanced her way. “How large is your fortune?”

  At last. Sensible discussion. “Large enough to cover your debts, dower your sister when needed, and live comfortably for the rest of your life provided a reasonable economy of spending is maintained.”

  He glanced away. “You’ve known about my problems before tonight, haven’t you? How did you find out?”

  When she placed her hand on his arm, he tensed. “Don’t be cross, but Abigail confided in me some time ago. Your sister has been very worried about you and sought reassurance from a friend who could keep a confidence.”

  “Does everyone know?”

  “I doubt it. Abigail only told me and with Hawke you can be assured of complete discretion in financial matters. We would never betray a friend.”

  He turned toward her. “I still don’t understand why you would do this.”

  As she met Mr. Watson’s gaze her palms grew slick. Doubts crowded her mind. She believed a match between them would solve their respective problems. There would never be love but respect and companionship would be enough, at least for her. “Perhaps I like you, Mr. Watson. I have had years to observe your nature and find little wanting, except perhaps for a degree more care when gambling.”

  “And if I were to lose your fortune to gambling?”

  That possibility brought a bitter taste to her mouth. If Mr. Watson gambled her fortune away they may never recover sufficiently to live a comfortable life ever again. She had always been careful with her funds and she had to be sure Mr. Watson did not think he could waste her money on frivolous pursuits. “I am not in the least as forgiving as your sister, sir.” Imogen squared her shoulders. “If that were to happen, our money spent with no regard for the future, then you would have a wife to remind you of that fact for all the days of your life. Ask Walter sometime to describe my personality when I’ve been thwarted.”

  Watson barked out a laugh, and his rigid posture eased a touch. “He has on more than one occasion. I did pity him at the time.”

  At least he was under no illusions that she was the sort to stand aside while he ruined them. “Good. Then I’m sure you understand the conditions under which you would accept my hand in marriage. Your charm will not gainsay agreement or forgiveness in every situation.”

  He covered her hand with one of his. “And what would?”

  Imogen jerked her hand back. “I offered my fortune for a comfortable life with a marriage, nothing else. You may fall in love with whoever you choose, just do not have the bad taste to flaunt the woman beneath my nose.”

  Imogen’s heart raced. Limiting the terms of her offer was purely for self-preservation. A marriage begun under these conditions did not grant Peter Watson access to her person for the mystical pleasure the marriage bed was whispered to provide. He would have to expend some effort if he desired intimacies. Imogen would not make it as easy for him to share her bed as she was handing over her money. She did not find him unattractive. He had a handsome face and tendency to smile, except at this moment. A woman who aspired to a higher level of independence than most had to draw the line somewhere.

  After a time, Peter stood and held out his hand. “It seems we have an agreement.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  July,1814

  A week before the wedding...

  The world tilted for Peter Watson in a way he’d never anticipated. “Are you absolutely certain I’m the rightful heir?”

  His new brother-in-law, David Hawke, slapped his shoulder. “It’s confirmed. Not only are you the heir, but you are the recipient of a sizeable fortune to go along with it. You are wealthy now Peter. Or I should say Sir Peter Watson. Congratulations my friend.”

  Peter gulped past the lump in his throat. He’d dreamed of this but never truly imagined he’d ever inherit a title or fortune from a cousin so little remembered he’d needed to comb through old letters to find mention of the name. He was, or would be very soon, a baronet. It was all a bit much to digest so quickly. “What do I do now?”

  David smiled. “A trip to London and then to Hereford to visit your holdings. It should all be settled within a month. I took the liberty of investigating your London townhouse before we came down to tell you the news. A very proper set-up. Servants, a town carriage and even a few horses, although they might be a bit long in the tooth for prolonged riding. Your relation was an invalid up until he died so be prepared for a degree of shabbiness about the house in the beginning.”

  Peter nodded slowly. A comfortable life beckoned. He’d be able to hold his head up with pride at last. He met Abigail’s gaze and saw her beaming smile. He shook his head. “It seems impossible.”

  “I can hardly believe my brother will be a baronet too, but I am so happy for you,” she gushed. “We rushed down as soon as we could to tell you in person.”

  Abigail also hadn’t been able to stand still since the moment they’d appeared at his door direct from London. He hadn’t seen her so happy in years, well except for her wedding day, and the day Hawke had proposed. “Then London it is.”

  “Wait,” she cautioned. “What about your wedding? You are to marry Imogen next week.”

  Peter scrubbed a hand through his hair while thinking the matter through. If he could settle his inheritance before he married Imogen then his conscience would be clear. He would rather be seen to marry because he wanted to than because he was the next best thing to a penniless beggar and desperate for funds. Imogen would marry Sir Peter Watson and become Lady Watson. He couldn’t wait to see her face when he told her the good news. “I’ll go see her now.”

  “Very good,” Hawke gazed about him with a barely suppressed smile. “We can leave for London tomorrow, early, settle the issues of the inheritance, and return as soon as possible to have you leg shackled. The place could do with a woman’s touch.”

  Abigail’s mock punches to her husband’s midsection were pathetically half-hearted at best. The small dog wedged under her arm yapped at her behavior.

  Hawke slipped his arm around Abigail and quieted the dog. “We’ll be at home all evening should you need us.”

  When they were gone, Peter hurried to make himself presentable enough to call on his future bride, taking a moment to smooth his hair and straighten his appearance. It had been an eventful afternoon, but the thought of seeing Imogen tied his stomach into greater knots. She’d always had that effect on him, except now they were to be married the sensations only intensified. She was to be his wife. Never mind their arrangement had never involved mention of intimacies. He was to be her husband. He was determined never to let her regret her generous offer. He would prove her faith in him however he could.

  He took a deep breath to steady his nerves before he tapped on her door. Her butler welcomed him with a smile and led him toward the sitting room. Usually Imogen greeted him with a soft easy smile, but today her expression was wary, her eyes were hooded in shadows as she dipped into a curtsy, her mouth set in a grim line.

  Puzzled by it, he moved toward her and kissed her hand when she held it out, the absolute limit of their personal interactions. Her tiny hand slipped from his too quickly, as it always did.

  “Good afternoon, Sir Peter.”

  His head snapped up. “You’ve already heard.”

  Imogen’s dark brows drew together causing frown lines to appear. “This is Brighton. News travels remarkably fast.”

  He chuckled and stepped back. “That it does. David has only just confirmed the details. A house in London and all that entails: a Hereford property and sufficient income to support us in greater comfort than we could ever want.”

  “I am very happy for you.” She tipped her head to study him. “The title suits you already.”

  His heart swelled. Imogen did not
dole out compliments she didn’t mean. He had enough experience of her temperament before the proposal to know such a comment was heartfelt. “It will suit us both very well.” When she sank into her chair again, Peter took the seat opposite. “There is one catch.”

  “You are leaving.”

  Her soft words caught him by surprise. How the devil could she know that? He’d only just decided he needed to go. Was that the cause of her odd mood today? “I am. David believes it can be all settled within a month. He feels the quicker it is done the better for all concerned.”

  When her smile didn’t reach her eyes, hope flared. Would she miss him? Even if their arrangement had started out as a loveless affair, he longed to hear she would think of him every now and then while he was away, or even a touch more than that.

  “David is an imminently practical man. I admire sensible decisions.” She drew herself up straight. “Which is why I feel it best to release you from our engagement.”

  Peter laughed at her joke and it took a moment to realize Imogen did not laugh with him. Her expression was as somber as he’d ever seen it. Understanding was like a punch to the gut. She thought he was running away from their marriage. “That’s not necessary. I still intend to honor our agreement and marry you. I’m just asking for the delay of a month while I settle my affairs. Once that’s out of the way we can go on as we planned.”

  Her smile grew sad. “You don’t need me, Peter. You’ll be a baronet. A gentleman with money enough to have anything your heart desires including a woman with a far better pedigree and one who might never bring scandal to your door with her wild imaginings.”

  “Now wait just a moment.”

  She held up her hand to stop him. “Don’t contradict me. A writer who would rather spend her days with only her imagination for company is not a suitable candidate to be Lady Watson. Indeed, there is no need for you to marry a woman you do not love and none at all to choose me for your wife. After all, we both know the nature of our arrangement. No hearts are broken by an end to it.”