Perfectly Mismatched Read online

  Table of Contents

  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

  Perfectly Mismatched

  Karen Sommers

  Copyright © 2018 by Karen Sommers

  All rights reserved.

  Contents

  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

  Also by Karen Sommers

  Chapter 1

  Lady Sophia of Trenworth loved roses; she always had. As a child, she often wandered through her neighbor’s garden, so fascinated by the roses that she lost track of time. To this day, she had no idea why. She just knew that when she saw a rose, her heart melted, and a kind of giddiness overtook her. As soon as Sophia was able to start her own garden, she had no trouble in picking the theme.

  The garden was not large by any means. Nothing compared to that of her best friend Emma’s, even though Emma had no interest in either flowers or gardening. Lady Sophia’s garden was still resplendent, despite this lack of grandiose size. Pinks, reds and whites were her colors of choice. They flourished and bloomed all year round. Everyone who was lucky enough to visit the garden agreed that hers was the most beautiful.

  Sophia loved to hear the compliments about her garden. In fact, nothing gave her greater pleasure than when her father had a guest over who told her just how beautiful it was. In Sophia’s mind, a beautiful garden reflected the lady who owned it. If they were impressed by the garden, surely, they were equally impressed by her.

  That’s what Sophia told herself at least. In reality, she knew no matter how lovely her rose garden was, it couldn’t and most certainly wouldn’t, change what people really thought of her.

  “I still can’t believe you followed him!” Sophia admonished as she worked her needle through the small piece of white fabric in her embroidery hoop. She was stitching a rose pattern onto it. Emma was sitting beside her. The Duchess’ recent escapade into the underbelly of London in pursuit of her husband was incomprehensible to Sophia.

  “I had no choice!” Emma Quinn, Duchess of Bellington, exclaimed. “I told you what I thought he’d been doing! I simply had to know for certain, and it’s a good thing I did.”

  “Oh? Why is that again?”

  “Well to put it simply, because now we’re more in love than ever.”

  Sophia averted her eyes as her friend responded. It wasn’t said to hurt her, or to highlight how alone she was, it was a simple fact. It hurt nonetheless.

  The two ladies were sitting in the middle of Lady Sophia’s garden, enjoying their tea. It was a Sunday tradition of theirs since they were little girls. Every Sunday they would come together to discuss their adventures of the previous week…well, that was how it used to be. Several months ago, Emma had married Hugh Quinn, Duke of Bellington. Since then she hadn’t come around as much.

  “Well I’m happy that it all worked out for you,” Sophia said truthfully. “But as a lady, you can’t go distrusting your husband like that. You’re lucky Hugh is so forgiving.”

  Emma snorted in a very unladylike manner. “He had no choice. I caught him red handed.”

  Lady Sophia didn’t respond. She tsked her tongue and went back to her stitch work, despite how much she hated it.

  Oh yes, she hated stitching. Nearly as much as she hated the way her father forced her to learn mathematics, and how to ride side-saddle, and having to commit the King James Bible to memory, able to quote any passage at any given time. She hated all these things because she hadn’t chosen them out of desire, but out of a need to fill her time. Time was something Lady Sophia had in spades.

  “But what about you?” Emma turned the conversation as she took a sip of her tea. “When are you going to put down that stitching and do as you ought?”

  “I know what you’re referring to, and you know perfectly well why I can’t.” She wanted to snap at her friend but managed to remain civil. Sophia was very well trained after all.

  “Oh that! Don’t be silly,” Emma waved her off. “It’s been years. Surely —”

  “Surely nothing,” Sophia cut in, her temper still restrained, she wished Emma would drop the subject. “You of all people should know that people don’t forget. I only wish I’d been lucky enough to have a Duke come snatch me up before I went the way of yesterday’s milk.”

  Emma pursed her lips and said nothing, as Sophia expected. Really, what could Emma say? Sophia was right and no amount of arguing or debating would change that.

  Lady Sophia would love nothing more than to wed. That had been her dream since childhood. She was a Lady of Trenworth and as such society expected a few very simple things from her. She was to be well educated, but not so much that it was intimidating. She was to be well put together, and constantly presentable. She was to be silent when needed, but vocal when asked. She was to be delicate, sophisticated and desirable. But most of all, she was to be well married as soon as she was able.

  Sophia could claim all the personality traits, but she was never going to be married. This was as much a fact as her roses dying during the winter. It had taken her years to accept this fate, but she finally had… despite the ongoing protests of her best friend.

  “I still think —”

  “Please,” Sophia cut in for a final time.

  She didn’t look at Emma, worried she might begin to tear up. She so hated having this conversation. When she and Emma were single together it was easy. They could laugh at their misfortune and pretend the single life was what they were after. But now that Emma was taken, it was much harder to ignore the pain.

  Several years ago, when Lady Sophia was just thirteen years old, she fell in love, or at least she thought she had. On Saturdays the stablemaster was commissioned to teach Sophia how to ride. This was fine, and proper. What was not proper was the way she used to look at the stablemaster’s son when she was at her lessons. Sophia was the same age as the son and allowed to talk to him. At the time her father thought nothing of it. That was until he stumbled upon them kissing!

  It was just a kiss. The smallest of transgressions in a lifetime of obedience. But it was enough to tarnish Sophia’s good name forever. Not only was it unchaste to kiss a man outside of marriage, but to kiss the stablemaster’s son was unheard of. Once word got out, rumor spread. Before Sophia knew it, that kiss had become more than just a kiss. It had become any number of ungodly things. She was wanton, not worthy of the hand of a man of station.

  Sophia was all but destroyed by the terrible fallout. She thought her life was over. It was only through Emma’s kindness that she was able to pull herself back together. She decided that if she wasn’t goin
g to be well married, she was going to become the next best thing. She would be the epitome of what a lady ought to be. So much so that one day the landed gentlemen would be tripping over themselves to marry her.

  This was still to come to fruition.

  “Fine,” Emma said with a sigh. “I’ll drop it… for now. But just know that if you do change your mind, Hugh has several well to do friends who would love nothing more than to vie for your attentions.”

  Sophia didn’t believe that for a moment. “I won’t change my mind.” she replied haughtily. Although the words were said with conviction, she didn’t feel it. She wanted desperately to say yes to Emma’s offer, but feared the inevitable result. Best play it safe and say no.

  The two ladies drank in silence for a few moments as the unpleasantness of the previous conversation dissipated. As they did, Sophia gazed around the garden, marveling in its beauty. She often found herself doing so, wishing all the while that she was as beautiful as the roses she so cared for.

  She supposed she was pretty in the most basic of ways. Her hair was long and dark. Her eyes were light and green. Her clear skin had just the right touch of color and her slim body had a moderate amount of curve. As she always dressed to impress, she was what most would describe as ‘beautiful’ on first inspection, but she wasn’t a natural beauty like her friend Emma. At least she didn’t think she was. Even now, the way Emma so effortlessly looked as she drank her tea in silence, made her green with envy. No wonder Duke Bellington was smitten.

  “Oh, I forgot to mention!” Emma suddenly exclaimed. “I’m having a masquerade party next week and you simply must come.”

  Sophia pursed her lips at this request… or demand. Masquerade parties were a little too risqué for a single lady like herself to be going to, and Emma knew it! Plus, they were full of alcohol, dancing and single men trying to steal a woman’s virtue. If she had an escort maybe? But she would never get that.

  “I don’t know...” she began. She had spent a lifetime trying to erase one past mistake. She wasn’t going to waste it all on a night out.

  “Oh come. Do. You must!”

  Sophia was about to argue her case further when they heard a rustling coming from behind them. They turned their heads just as Sophia’s father, Lord Aldway of Trenworth entered the garden.

  Lord Trenworth was everything a Lord should be. Not only was he rich and successful, he was handsome, elegant and very eligible. Sophia had often heard other ladies whispering coyly about him.

  He was also a hard man and had become more so ever since Sophia’s mother had passed away three years ago. Worse than that, Sophia knew how much what she had done pained him, and still did. He, more than her, would love to see her wed. But he, like her, had just about given up on this hope.

  “Lord Trenworth,” Emma beamed in the same manner that all women did when they saw Sophia’s father.

  “Your Grace. What a lovely surprise.” He took Emma’s hand in his and kissed the back of it, causing Emma to blush.

  “I was just telling your daughter about a party my husband and I are having next week. I was so hoping that Sophia would come.”

  “A party?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. All previous curtesy was gone as his voice hardened and his posture stiffened. He looked down at Sophia who immediately looked away.

  “Oh yes, a masquerade ball. It’s going to be such a joyous time, even more so if Sophia comes.”

  “Sophia?” He was a man of few words, but somehow, he managed to always say exactly what was needed.

  “It’s nothing, Father. I was going to stay in and… and read that night. Really.” Sophia continued to avoid her father’s, fearful that he might see her true desire.

  “Oh, nonsense,” Emma giggled. “Please, sir. It has been so long since Sophia has made it out. Plus, my husband, the Duke of Bellington, will be inviting many a single friend of his...”

  “Is that so?” Again, so little said. But the way his voice raised on the end of the question indicated that Emma had managed to pique his interest just enough.

  “Most certainly.”

  Lord Trenworth said nothing at first. He looked from the pleading face of Emma to that of Sophia, who was doing all she could to avoid his stare. Not that she needed to look at his face to know what he was thinking. The only question was, was he really so desperate to see his daughter married that he would willingly send her to such an event?

  “So be it.” And as the finality of the words rung through the garden, he turned and left the two ladies alone.

  “I hope you’re happy with yourself.” Sophia said bitterly to her friend. She couldn’t believe that her father had been so easily tricked.

  “Very much so,” Emma grinned.

  They didn’t talk again for some time. Emma was far too pleased with herself to ruin the moment, and Sophia was far too committed to pretending to be upset by it.

  Chapter 2

  It was just past sunrise when Viscount Robert of Tamway stumbled into his manor. His curly brown hair was ruffled and matted. His usually handsome, buoyant face sagged and drooped. Even his clothes, usually the finest tailored wear a man could purchase, were crumpled, dirty and smelled of stale beer and wine. It had been a big night to say the least.

  “Alistair!” Robert called out as he made his way through the open foyer and up and staircase. “Alistair — ah, there you are!”

  Coming from around the side of the staircase, from the direction of the kitchen and adjoining dining room, was Alistair, Robert’s manservant. Eighty years in age, yet with the vim and vigor of a twenty-something, Alistair sighed when he spotted his employer stumbling up the stairs. It was a familiar sight to the aged manservant by now, but not one he had gotten any more used to seeing.

  “Good morning, my lord,” Alistair offered as he made his way up the stairs. Robert had already started kicking his boots off, leaving a trail of clothes for Alistair to collect on the way up. “How was your evening? And subsequent morning?”

  “Exquisite,” Robert exclaimed with a very noticeable slur. “Madam Montreal outdid herself again!”

  “You would almost think they worked on tips, my lord.” Alistair reached Robert, offering him a shoulder to lean on. Robert took it eagerly.

  “Ha!” Robert exclaimed, delighted by Alistair’s cheek. “You almost would — where are you taking me?”

  Rather than leading Robert up the stairs toward his bedroom, Alistair had turned the drunken Viscount about, guiding him down the stairs.

  “You have breakfast plans this morning, my lord,” Alistair explained as he led Robert. “I reminded you last night and —”

  “With Hugh!” Robert nodded his head, the very dim memory of said plans coming back to him. Although, as his head hurt the way it did, it was a faint memory at best. “How long has the old boy been waiting?”

  “Only a few minutes, sir.”

  “And wouldn’t you know it, my appetite has suddenly come alive. Lead the way!” With his arm still draped over his manservant, Robert allowed Alistair to lead him through the living space and in the direction of the dining room where his friend waited.

  Duke Hugh of Bellington was Robert’s best friend. If he were pushed to admit it, Robert would probably say that Hugh was his only friend. The two had known each other since they were boys, despite their vastly different upbringings. Where Hugh was born into his station, inheriting his wealth and title from his father, Robert was forced to earn it.

  And earn it he had. It was through a combination of hard work, dedication and perhaps just a fraction of luck that Robert had succeeded the way he had. Buying a small shipping company when he was in his late teens, he had managed to build it up to the behemoth it was now. So successful was this move that Robert was able to buy a title with his wealth and rub shoulders with men that he would never have come into contact with otherwise.

  Initially, Robert had sworn to put his fortune to good use. He’d provided well for his mother and created a safe house for abus
ed women in memory of the trials she’d gone through back when Robert’s father was alive, and Robert was still too young to help her. Lately, though, he’d begun to feel lost. He’d set up his business and charity work to a degree that hardly required his attention anymore and he wasn’t quite sure where he fit into the picture. Robert wasn’t a fan of the socialites he now spent his time with, and they weren’t exactly fans of his either. Except for Hugh of course. Their friendship was as strong as ever, but that was more because Robert had no one else, and Hugh was painfully aware of it. Robert knew that it was difficult for Hugh to be available since his marriage, and felt himself floundering for it.

  “I’d tell the mothers to lock up their daughters, but something tells me that it’s too late for that.” Hugh joked as Robert stumbled into the dining room.

  As Robert had suspected, Hugh had started breakfast without him. He sat at the long oak table, with a full plate of the best food money could buy served up in front of him. He pierced a string of bacon with his fork, taking a bite as he smiled at his disheveled friend.

  “Please wipe that detestable smile off your face,” Robert groaned. Now that he was seated at the table and allowed some time to climatize himself to the morning, the hangover that had been sitting on the precipice of attack, was just starting to kick in. His head was throbbing.

  “I spoke to your mother this morning,” Hugh continued with the same knowing grin. “She’s a charmer.”

  “Urgh, what did she say this time?” Robert was more than aware of what the conversation with his mother would have entailed. It was never anything that Robert wanted to hear. Especially when considering his current state.