Miss Truelove Beckons (Classic Regency Romances Book 12) by Donna Lea Simpson

Or rather, a prolonged exposure to her mother had changed the girl. Until Arabella was ready to be presented, Lady Swinley had seldom deigned to notice that she even had a daughter. Bella had spent most school vacations at the vicarage, True’s family home. But just before Bella turned eighteen, Lady Swinley had swept down, grasped her in her clutches and carried her off to London to be “finished,” dressed, and presented. Lord Swinley’s subsequent death had put off her presentation one year, but then at nineteen Arabella had been presented and London, or at least the male half, had been prostrate at her feet ever since, to hear her tell it.
    And now, four years later, the sharp shrewishness of Lady Swinley was beginning to be evident in her daughter. Complimented, feted, adored, sought after as a diamond of the first water, Arabella was in a fair way to being spoiled.
    “I did not mention Mr. Bottleby because I need that to be private, right now, until I make up my mind,” True said.
    “You had best say yes,” Arabella said briskly. “It is likely to be the only offer you get at your age. I should not like to be a vicar’s wife, but it will do very well for you.”
    A spurt of irritation flared within True. How like Arabella’s new personality to presume to tell her what to do! “I will not marry because it is the last proposal I shall get. I told you, I had quite given up the idea of marriage until Mr. Bottleby asked. I just am not sure what to do. I do not love him.” And could not see herself falling in love with him.
    “But he has a fortune; you said that yourself, even if it is a small one. What else is there to consider? You don’t think to capture yourself a title, do you?”
    True was hurt by the scorn she heard in her cousin’s voice. That was another unpleasant manifestation of the influence of Lady Swinley. “No, I do not think to capture a title.” She saw Bella relax just a little and frowned in puzzlement. “But neither will I be rushed into making a decision that will change my life. I urge you to be just as cautious. Do not marry Lord Drake just because he is a viscount and will someday be an earl. You need to search your heart, as Father says, and decide if this is what God wants for you.”
    “God does not have to live with Lord Drake. I do!”
    “Exactly right,” True said. “All the more reason to be careful. Be sure that marrying him is what will ensure both of your happiness, because Father says that an unhappy marriage is painful to God, but devastating to a man or woman.”
    Arabella slipped from the window seat and started toward the door, carrying her slippers. She turned back, though, and said, “I have to marry, True. Why should it not be someone rich and handsome and titled? Mother says money and social position are the only things that do not depart in a marriage.” She shrugged, then turned and exited quietly.
    After Arabella left, True sat staring at the pane of glass in front of her. Bella’s voice had held a note of . . . of what? Resignation? Yes, she rather thought it was that. But how sad to go into a marriage resigned to your fate. And how sad for Lord Drake if that was what his bride brought to him. He deserved so much more, as did Bella.
    Finally, True slipped from the window seat and into her bed, to sleep at long last. And to dream . . . of strong hands and golden eyes and a voice that melted her heart.

Chapter Five
     
    The day’s excursion to the viscount’s home had been a success, and now they sat on a blanket by the stream as restless Arabella and attentive Lord Conroy wandered off. Lord Drake drifted off to sleep. True daringly smoothed the golden curls from his face and watched as care and worry loosened their hold, and his gaunt face relaxed into the healing balm of sleep. For a sweet hour she listened to his calm breathing, while she gazed down on the stream and felt the peace of Thorne House seep into her. A light breeze sprang up, and the