A Prince for Aunt Hetty

Books By Kimberly Truesdale

My Dear Sophy

The Wrong Woman
(Unexpected Love Series #1)

Copyright Information

A PRINCE FOR AUNT HETTY

A Toast and Tea Publications Book / March 2014

All rights reserved.

Copyright © 2014 by Kimberly Noelle Egolf

Cover art “Reading In the Morning Light” by Carl Holsøe, used under Wikimedia Commons License.

Except for brief quotations, no part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the author.

The characters and events in this book are fictitious or used fictitiously.

ISBN: 978-0-9858537-3-0 (Ebook)

Dedication

For Grandma and Grandpa Truesdale.

Thanks for the name.

Chapter One

W
ITH AN IMPATIENT
swipe, Harriet Masters pushed aside the heavy velvet curtain that kept both light and the cold winter air out of her traveling carriage. She'd resisted until now, trying not to disturb her sleeping companion snoring heavily in the corner. The poor girl had insisted on traveling with her new mistress in spite of a nasty head cold.
Poor dear Annabella
. Hetty had a soft spot for young women who always tried their best.

But the lure of the outside world was too much. Hetty leaned forward to peer out of the thick glass. The change in position made her body groan in complaint.
I may still have the excitement of youth, but I no longer have the stamina to travel for so long. I wish that Agatha lived closer to our brother. That would make my life easier.

The wintry, January landscape rolled slowly by her window, disappointingly gray and brown. Even though it would impede her travel, Hetty wished a blanket of brilliant white snow would fall. As the thought passed through her mind, Hetty was startled by a loud crack and felt the carriage list heavily to the side. Her shoulder rammed into the door and she nearly fell off her seat. She reached out to steady Annabella, who had been jolted awake and was looking panicked.

“What's happening, Miss Hetty?” Her voice trembled.

“I don't know yet, my dear. But I would suspect something on the carriage has broken.”

“Oh no!” The girl exclaimed, panic rising in her voice.

“Now, now,” she patted the girl's knee to comfort her. “I am sure it is nothing to be either afraid of or terribly worried about.” They had stopped with the carriage still leaning heavily to the side. That angle did not bode well, but Hetty kept her thoughts to herself.

“You will not reach your destination! We shall be set upon by highwaymen! Whatever shall we do?”

“Annabella,” Hetty said sternly. “You must calm yourself. We have our lives and we have our legs. And I do believe we are not far away from my sister's house.”

“Oh,” the girl sank back into the cushion, but shot straight up in her seat again a moment later. “Oh, miss, I forgot my manners. I meant thank you very much.”

Hetty suppressed her smile. The poor thing. Sick, frightened, and still thinking of manners. When she learned how to calm her nerves and keep her worries to a minimum, Annabella would make a formidable ladies' maid.

“It is fine, my dear. Make sure to stay warm. I am going to see what has happened.” Hetty pushed open the door and hopped out. She soon remembered that hopping was not an activity a fifty-year-old woman should engage in after sitting in a carriage for three days.

“Madam!” Barnaby, her driver, cried as he saw her catch herself against the side of the carriage.

Hetty straightened herself as he approached. “Thank you, Barnaby. I misjudged that landing.” He didn't even blink. After fifteen years in her service, Barnaby was used to her unorthodox behavior.

“Madam, I was just coming to get you.”

“What has happened to the carriage?” She walked toward where John the footman was calming the horses.

“We've broken a wheel, madam, and we used our last spare one yesterday.”

Broken wheels were not a rare occurrence, especially as the wet winter created deep mud on the roadways. So they usually carried a spare wheel with them in case of such accidents, as one could not count on there always being a wheelwright nearby. Usually it was a simple fix, but that required the right equipment.

“Where are we, Barnaby?” Hetty squinted down the road ahead of them.

“Just outside the village before Hayes house, Miss Masters.”

“So what is the plan?”

“Well, madam, I should go for help. The village is but half a mile behind us. I can find someone to come and take you to the house. You and your maid can stay here in the carriage while I go.”

Hetty considered the suggestion. “You say Hayes house is close?”

“Yes, madam, just a few miles ahead.”

“I think I shall walk.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise but didn't offer any resistance to the idea. “And Annabella, madam?”

“Oh yes,” Hetty hesitated. “She cannot walk in her condition, can she?” Barnaby shook his head. “And how long will it take for you to have the carriage fixed?”

“It's hard to say, madam. I will have to find a wheelwright in the village. If he has any spare parts, then it should be quick. The axle is not broken, so thank God for small mercies.”

Hetty nodded. Annabella could not walk three miles in the cold. But Hetty was eager to get to her sister's house and couldn't stand to wait. “Barnaby, you go to the village. Leave John here with the horses. I will situate Annabella warmly and comfortably in the carriage. She will come along with you when the wheel is fixed.”

“Very good. And you, madam?”

“I will venture forth on my own. The roadway does not seem so bad.”

Barnaby eyed it suspiciously. They both knew the mud was probably worse than it looked. But Barnaby also knew his mistress would very well do what she pleased. “Very good, madam,” was all he said.

“Besides, I like the element of surprise. Agatha will certainly not be expecting me to
walk
up her drive!”

“Certainly not, madam.” Barnaby's lip curled slightly in the only imitation of a smile she had ever spied from him.

“Very well then. Please inform John of the plan and I will settle Annabella.”

Once Hetty had very carefully and earnestly explained to the anxious girl how
imperative
it was that Annabella stay with the trunks and make sure no harm came to them, the maid settled into the carriage to keep warm. Barnaby had already started in the opposite direction, back toward the village they'd recently passed. With a nod at John, still settling the horses, Hetty wrapped her cloak tightly around her and started off down the road.

The mud squished around her boots with every step she took. She could not wait to see her nieces and nephews again. She'd just come from her other niece Isobel's grand wedding. And while she'd enjoyed that thoroughly, Hetty missed her younger relations, the ones very far from thinking about things like marriages and weddings and trips to the Continent.

Then there had been Agatha's letter begging her to come.

Dearest Hetty,

Of course we have a maid ready for you if Annabella is too ill to travel. (And is it any wonder that a maid with such an extravagant name should face a head cold just like a heroine in one of those sensational novels?)

Please come to us as soon as you are able. Our entire household begins to lag in this cold and dreary weather and we could do with some enlivening. And of course you know that the children wish you here immediately.

Indeed, they have somehow discovered that I am just now penning a letter to their “very favoritest aunt in the entire world” and they are hanging around my elbows until I promise that you will come. They send all of their love (as do Jonathan and I). Please come and save us all soon or I feel that the children will mutiny. Then I shall be left to my own entertainment and you know what dull company I make.

Yours, Agatha

Lost in her own reverie, Hetty slipped into a hole deeper than her ankle.

“Drat.” That's what she got for not paying attention. Hetty growled as the cold mud seeped down into her boot. She lifted her foot gingerly out of the hole, making sure she found solid ground behind her, and began to shake off the mud.

It was a good thing this year it would only be family at the house. Hetty didn't need to worry about how she looked when she arrived. Last year her sister had hosted a party of near strangers that was nearly a week too long for everyone's comfort. There were only so many stories to tell or rounds of cards to be played before they had all exchanged their fortunes three times over and exhausted all of the polite small talk that could ever be invented. At least she and her muddy boots wouldn't be held against her in company.

“Are you in trouble, my lady?”

Hetty nearly lost her balance trying to whip around and see who had accosted her from behind. Her arms flailed to her sides and she stepped right back into the muddy hole she'd just been in. The gentleman jumped from his horse and grabbed her arm to steady her, though his presence didn't work in quite the way that he'd likely hoped.

They fumbled around until she found herself fully pressed against his chest, her eyes level with his chin and a broad smile. A little bit dazed and still feeling unsteady, Hetty only stared. Her eyes traveled up to meet his, brown and framed with the fringe of his fashionably-cut silver and gray hair. Something warm pumped through her veins.

“All right?”

Hetty tamped down the feelings rising in her and stepped away. “Thank you, sir.”

“My pleasure, madam. May I assist you further?”

“No, thank you, sir. I appreciate the unexpected assistance, but I believe I shall be fine from here.” She nervously smoothed her hands over her dress as she felt his eyes on her.

He looked at her curiously for a moment. “Do you perhaps belong to the carriage I passed a half mile back?”

“I do.”

“Shouldn't your coachman be the one going for assistance?”

“He is,” she confirmed, bristling mildly under his tone of judgment. “He went toward the village for help. But as I was not far from my destination, I decided to continue on foot.”