Runaway Bride (The Bride Ships Book #2) , livre ebook

Baker Publishing Group - Jody Hedlund

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190 pages

English

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Wealthy Arabella Lawrence flees to British Columbia on a bride ship still wearing the scars of past mistakes. One of the few single women in the boomtown, she immediately has suitors, but she is determined not to find herself trapped again by a poor choice.Vying for her hand are two very different men. Lieutenant Richard Drummond is a gentleman in the Navy and is held in high esteem. Peter Kelly is the town's baker and has worked hard to build a thriving business. He and Drummond not only compete for Arabella's affections, but clash over their views of how the natives should be treated in the midst of a smallpox outbreak.As Arabella begins to overcome her fears, she discovers someone in dire need--a starving girl abandoned by her tribe. Intent on helping the girl, Arabella leans on Peter's advice and guidance. Will she have the wisdom to make the right decision or will seeking what's right cost both her and Peter everything?

Sujets

Historical romance

Informations

Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	03 mars 2020
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781493422845
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	2 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0461€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Cover
Half Title Page
Books by Jody Hedlund
The Preacher’s Bride
The Doctor’s Lady
Unending Devotion
A Noble Groom
Rebellious Heart
Captured by Love
B EACONS OF H OPE
Out of the Storm: A B EACONS OF H OPE Novella
Love Unexpected
Hearts Made Whole
Undaunted Hope
O RPHAN T RAIN
An Awakened Heart: An O RPHAN T RAIN Novella
With You Always
Together Forever
Searching for You
T HE B RIDE S HIPS
A Reluctant Bride
The Runaway Bride
Title Page
Copyright Page
© 2020 by Jody Hedlund
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
www.bakerpublishinggroup.com
Ebook edition created 2020
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4934-2284-5
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover design by Jennifer Parker
Cover photography by Mike Habermann Photography, LLC
Author is represented by Natasha Kern Literary Agency, Inc.
Contents
Cover
Half Title Page
Books by Jody Hedlund
Title Page
Copyright Page
Epigraph
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
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11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
Author’s Note
About the Author
Back Ads
Back Cover
Epigraph
one

V ANCOUVER I SLAND S EPTEMBER 18, 1862
T oday she might meet the man she’d marry.
On the ship’s main deck, Arabella Lawrence stood absolutely still as a lady ought to do, even though the prospect of seeing her husband-to-be flustered her to a near faint. Like the others around her, she peered at the top rung of the ladder waiting for a glimpse of the men, her breath choppy, her cheeks flushed.
After one hundred days aboard the Tynemouth bride ship, she thought she’d be ready for this moment. She’d had plenty of time to prepare during the long days at sea with little to do. But now that she and the rest of the brides had reached Vancouver Island, all her uncertainties had decided to pay her a visit.
She opened her fan and pumped several gusts across her face. The sea air was balmy for September, drenched with the odor of the salmon the natives had bartered the previous evening after the ship had dropped anchor off Esquimalt Lagoon.
In the dusk, the sight of the long dugout canoes gliding across the glassy water had been terrifying, especially with so many dark-haired and dark-skinned bodies in each vessel. Some of her companions had whispered frightened epithets of doom, fearing the natives would attack the Tynemouth , afraid their group had come halfway around the world only to fall prey to beheading and cannibalism.
The sailors had assured the brides that the natives meant no harm, that if they’d wanted war, the canoes would have been full of well-armed men with their faces painted black. As it was, the dugouts had contained a mixture of half-naked men, women, and children hoisting fish, not weapons.
Now with the light of day, the natives were gone and the visitors readying to board had arrived in longboats, attired in suits and top hats.
“You must all be at your best for the welcoming committee,” said their chaperone, Mrs. Robb, as she walked past. She’d spoken the same thing earlier when she instructed them to don clean outfits in preparation for mingling with the first group of distinguished gentlemen, who would be coming over from Victoria to greet the women and bring fresh provisions.
Over the port side of the ship, the saltwater lagoon gleamed like a mirror, reflecting the coniferous forest and rocky outcroppings. On the opposite side, the distant snowcapped peaks of the Olympic Mountains across the Straits of Juan de Fuca rose up in a magnificent display so unlike anything Arabella had ever witnessed, a sight she wouldn’t mind waking up to every morning.
At a shout from starboard and the clank of the ladder, she drew in a shaky breath.
“Shall we form a more orderly line?” Mrs. Robb clapped her hands at the women. The tall, severe-looking matron had been thin at the beginning of their journey, but she was positively skeletal now, her cheeks sunken and her hair listless.
Arabella supposed they were all rather decimated. She fingered a strand of her long auburn hair. She’d done her best to stay true to her grooming regimen during the voyage, brushing her hair one hundred strokes every night before bedtime. Yet after going the past three months with only sponge bathing and the most basic of hair washing, her thick locks hadn’t cooperated today. Likewise, no amount of rice powder could hide her freckles, which had only grown more numerous on her nose and cheeks in spite of her efforts to avoid the sun’s rays.
Not only were her hair and freckles troublesome, so were her gowns. Perpetual seasickness had taken its toll, and the beautiful creations of organdie, silk, and grenadine that had once fit her snugly now hung from her bony frame. While all the ladies had discarded their cumbersome crinolines shortly after boarding, today they’d donned the steel-hooped underskirts that made their gowns fuller.
Joining the other gentlewomen in shifting into a presentable receiving line, Arabella knew she should be smiling and chattering too. After all, marriage was something she’d always longed for but never expected—at least not with a husband of her own choosing. But she could no more tame her unruly nerves than she could tame the changeable sea.
The midshipman leaned over the railing and grasped at the first man coming up the ladder. At the emerging form, silence fell over the deck, and Arabella gawked at the newcomer along with everyone else, even though such behavior was extremely unbecoming of a lady.
As the man’s top boots landed against the deck, he straightened and grabbed his tall black hat to keep it from toppling off. The tilt of his head revealed distinguished features set amidst a white mustache and long, white sideburns, a decidedly older man than she’d expected of the prospective husbands.
The vision of another older face pushed to the forefront of her mind. One fleshier with bristly sideburns. One with hard, demanding eyes. One with lips firmly creased in displeasure.
The skin on Arabella’s back prickled, the bruises there having healed but the scars still lingering. She closed her eyes against the memory of the beating, but couldn’t block the pain that haunted her.
’ Tis in the past. ’Twill not happen again. She silently recited the words of assurance as she had often since boarding the bride ship. In London society at the old age of twenty-five, the only man who’d wanted a spinster like her had been over twice her age. But here . . . in this new land where men reportedly outnumbered women ten to one . . .
She pried open her eyes in time to see Captain Hellyer approach the elderly gentleman and shake his hand. At the same time, the midshipman hefted another man onto the deck, then another. The visiting gentlemen soon swarmed the deck, some in civilian clothing, others wearing the blue uniforms that belonged to those in the Queen’s Royal Navy.
They took turns shaking hands with the captain and several other illustrious passengers, including Lord Colville, the ship’s surgeon, and Reverend Scott, the second chaperone the Columbia Mission Society had assigned to the brides.
The women around Arabella found their voices again and resumed their excited conversations, especially as the men began to mill about. When the last of the visitors boarded the ship, Captain Hellyer finally addressed the gathering.
The older gentleman who’d been the first to arrive spoke next, introducing himself as Victoria’s mayor, Mr. Edward Harris. He issued kind words of welcome before pointing out the most prominent men of the committee—the chief immigration officer, the president of the Chamber of Commerce, the local Anglican minister of Christ Church Cathedral, and a blur of others whose names Arabella couldn’t remember.
All the while the mayor spoke, some of the men boldly perused the women. At the attention, the younger orphan girls tittered and whispered among themselves. Mercy Wilkins, one of the poor women from London’s slums, tried to shush them. Hardly older than the girls herself, Mercy had been like a mother to them on the trip, and she’d been more than kind to Arabella, tending her whenever she’d been ill.
The lower-class women like Mercy would find their future husbands on the morrow after going ashore and meeting the laborers, tradesmen, and miners who dominated the community. If the rumors were true, then hundreds of such men were waiting in Victoria for their arrival. On the other hand, Arabella and the other middle-class ladies would draw husbands from the upper echelons of Victoria’s society, from among elite and important men like those who’d come aboard.
Whatever the case, their chaperones had assured them that every woman, both poor and wealthy, would have the opportunity to find a good and kind husband.
As brandy and sherry were passed among the gentlemen, they began to mingle more freely, approaching the women and making introductions. Arabella’s stepmother would have been appalled at the brazenness of well-born men making their own introductions without proper protocol. Yet under the circumstances, Arabella didn’t see any other option.