Lady of High Regard (Ladies of Liberty Book #1) , livre ebook

Baker Publishing Group - Tracie Peterson

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124 pages

English

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Born into affluence, Mia Stanley is a winsome socialite with a knack for matchmaking. She's also a writer for Godey's Lady's Book magazine, much to the disdain of her family--and their society friends. A proper young lady of her social standing isn't meant to labor in such a way, but Mia has always had a way with words... When her writing draws her into the world of downtrodden seamen's wives on Philadelphia's docks, Mia uncovers a scheme that puts her in harm's way. But her heart ends up on the line as well...Has her determination to always make a match driven away the one man whose esteem she covets?

Informations

Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	01 juillet 2007
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781441202284
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	2 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0259€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

© 2007 by Tracie Peterson
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 2010
Ebook corrections 04.05.2017
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 978-1-4412-0228-4
Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
Cover design by Brand Navigation/Deanna Pierce Author photo by Mark Dixon Cover photography by Steve Gardner, PixelWorks Studios, Inc.
To Ramona, a beautiful lady of high regard who has always been there for me. I thank God for our blessing of friendship.
CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
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
About the Author
Other Books by Tracie Peterson
Back Cover
CHAPTER 1

Philadelphia June 1852
A slight breeze blew across the room, causing Mia Stanley’s single candle to flicker and dance. Leaning away from the writing desk where she’d worked most of the evening, Mia pressed a hand to her growling stomach. She was starving, but there was no time to indulge. And at this hour, their cook, Mrs. McGuire, would be quite cross to have her kitchen dirtied.
Mia’s papers suddenly scattered as the breeze increased. “Stuff and nonsense,” she muttered, scurrying to recover her work. Mia decided then to conclude her writing for the evening. As if on cue, the grandfather clock at the top of the stairs began to chime. It was nine o’clock.
Time had gotten away from her. Without thought to blot her last line of writing, Mia stacked her papers and secured them by placing several copies of Godey’s Lady’s Book atop. She would no doubt be late for her meeting if she delayed much longer.
Glancing down at her silk gown, Mia knew it would be unsuitable for the tasks ahead. Yet she could hardly call for Ruth to come and help her change. That would take too much time.
“I should have thought to have them help me when I first retired,” she said. The pale blue gown had been quite appropriate for an evening of refined dinner guests and music but would cause her too much attention in the poorer section of town.
Then an idea came to mind. Her mother was known for discarding her gowns and giving them to the maids and such when she’d grown tired of them. Mia had pulled one such gown from the pile just before Ruth had happily taken the collection away. The gown would be large enough to pull on over the silk and was conservative enough to hide any immediate suggestion of wealth. As she recalled, her mother had only used the dress for gardening and overseeing the cleaning of the attic.
Struggling in the dim light, Mia adjusted the gown and did up the buttons, grateful they were on the front of the bodice instead of the back. Wrapping her hip-length blond hair in a tight knot, Mia covered the mass with a scarf in the style of the fishermen’s wives and slave girls. With this accomplished, she found her oldest and ugliest shawl and pulled it tight around her shoulders. It was plenty warm outside, but the shawl would age her appearance even more. Instead of looking twenty-four, she hoped the costume would make her at least a believable thirty or thirty-four.
“Better still if I looked fifty.”
Mia tucked a few coins into her pocket, knowing that a little money often proved useful in exchanges of information. She worried that if she didn’t hurry, she’d never reach the church in time to meet with Mrs. Smith. The woman had only agreed because Mia had promised to keep her identity a secret, and Mia feared that if she was late the woman might be too frightened to stay.
Taking up the candle, Mia opened the door slowly and listened. The deafening silence assured her that the house was finally at rest. Her parents were blessedly people of the clock. They kept their hours as a matter of serious consideration. Lyman Stanley was known to say that a man could not run a business or family without strict adherence to the time. And because of such a belief, he was now in bed, most likely fast asleep despite the fact that there was still a dusky glow of sunset in the summer skies.
Mia tiptoed across the highly polished oak floors. The candlelight reflected the disapproving stares of ancient ancestors whose portraits lined the vast hall. Great-grandfather Stanley seemed particularly perturbed this evening, Mia thought as she caught his narrowed eyes and tight expression.
“I’m doing this for a good cause,” she told him as if admonishing a child. The candle flickered, and she almost imagined the old gentleman had offered an exasperated sigh. It did nothing to deter Mia.
Knowing she’d be less likely heard exiting the drawing room door to the gardens, Mia carefully pushed back the extravagant folds of her mother’s lace curtains and unlatched the French doors. They didn’t make so much as a creak, but the rush of air blew out her candle and instantly left Mia in darkness. Outside, the light was fading fast, and while the moon seemed to offer some assistance, Mia paused to decide whether she should take a lantern.
“I should have to go to the kitchen if I want one and risk making enough noise to raise the dead. That definitely won’t do,” she argued in a whisper. And it really wasn’t so very far to the church. There were gaslights along some of the streets, so she wouldn’t have to be in pitch black the entire time.
“And if I don’t hurry, Mrs. Smith will be gone, and all of this will be for naught.”
That settled the matter, and Mia left all thoughts of a lantern behind as she closed the door. The warm smells of the summer air assaulted her as Mia stepped into the garden. The sweet scent of her mother’s roses mingled with honeysuckle and a dozen other flowers rose up to inspire Mia’s senses.
The garden, sheltered by large bender oaks and buckeye trees, was her mother’s delight. Aldora tended the grounds with strictest diligence. She lavished her attention upon her flowers as though they were her children. Often she could be found instructing one of the servants to trim this or that, while she plucked and planted alongside. Mia thought her mother’s talent amazing, for they always had the most beautiful gardens of anyone in Philadelphia.
Thick lilac bushes lined the boundaries between the Stanley and Wilson houses, but their blossoms were long since past. Farther in the garden a variety of flowering trees offered a canopy of shade during warm summer days. Of everything here, Mia thought the lilacs to be her favorites. She’d loved them since she’d been a small child. The scent always reminded her of pleasant days spent playing in the garden with her sisters or of sitting and listening to her father read on lazy afternoons. Of course, they also reminded her of Garrett.
Garrett Wilson was the son of her father’s partner, George Wilson. They owned the property next to the Stanleys and had been an institution in their family for as long as Mia had memories. Garrett, some eight years her senior, had been a faithful companion to Mia off and on throughout her life. He was the brother she’d never had—the good friend who would always listen to her troubles—the only man she trusted besides her father.
In early years Mrs. Wilson had often come to share tea in the Stanley gardens. In turn, the Stanley women would enjoy pleasant respites at the Wilson estate. The two older women found great solace in each other’s company; both had lost young sons to different diseases and now doted upon their remaining children.
In later years when home from school, Garrett would sometimes accompany his mother to the Stanley garden, sharing tea with Mia and her mother and two sisters. After his mother had passed away and Garrett was busy working for his father’s business, his visits were less frequent. Nevertheless, Garrett seemed quite happy to join the Stanley women from time to time and tell them all the news from his travels. And since the Wilsons and Stanleys imported a great many products from across the seas, Garrett’s travels were often lengthy and his accounts detailed. Mia loved to hear Garrett’s stories of searching for the perfect crystal or china to bring home for American society. He always managed to share some humorous adventure or fascinating anecdote.
As Mia hurried down Walnut Street she couldn’t help but smile. Garrett was such a good man. And as such, he deserved to have a good wife. Mia had long considered the situation, and as the resident matchmaker who had seen her younger sisters quite happily settled, she was certain she could remedy the situation for her dear friend. She already had half a dozen young ladies in mind and hoped that with the few parties that would take place before so many families deserted the town for the summer, she could secure a wife for Garrett Wilson.
Mia stopped in her tracks as a noise caught her attention. There it was again. Someone was hurrying to follow her. The heaviness of the footsteps suggested a man. She ducked into the nearby shrubbery, catching her shawl on a waxy leafed branch.
“Oh bother,” she muttered, gently tugging the knitted piece until it pulled loose. The sound of footsteps grew ever closer as Mia cowered in the darkness. T