Forbidden

Forbidden

A Regency Collection

with stories from

Kelly Martin, Nadine Millard

Rachel Van Dyken, Kristin Vayden

Published by Blue Tulip Publishing

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2014 KELLY MARTIN, KRISTIN VAYDEN,

NADINE MILLARD, and RACHEL VAN DYKEN

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters,
and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to
actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental.
Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are
assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used
only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these
terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of
this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically,
constitutes a copyright violation.

FORBIDDEN: A REGENCY COLLECTION

A WINTER WISH

Copyright © 2014 NADINE MILLARD

FOR THE LOVE OF A LADY

Copyright © 2014 KRISTIN VAYDEN

CLOAKED IN RED

Copyright © 2014 KELLY MARTIN

THE DEVIL DUKE TAKES A BRIDE

Copyright © 2014 RACHEL VAN DYKEN

ISBN: 978-1-942246-17-6

ISBN 10: 194224617X

Cover Art by P.S. Cover Design

by Nadine Millard

"Yes, Mrs. Callahan,
I
understand that it hurts but I really do think removing it
is a little excessive."

Mariah repressed the urge to bash the older
woman with her own reticule and tell her to stop being
ridiculous.

Dr. Bolton, Mariah's father, had a packed
surgery today as he did every other day and though it was
unorthodox he allowed Mariah to help out every so often, like this
morning.

As the only surgeon in their small village,
as well as the only apothecary, Dr. Bolton was constantly in
demand. He was coming to rely on his eldest daughter's head for
medicine more and more, though Mrs. Bolton despaired of them
both.

But really, it wasn't as though this were
London or even one of the big cities of York or Edinburgh. This was
a village in Lancashire, where Mariah had lived her whole life.

It wasn't the done thing at all for a young
lady to be working in her father's surgery. But everyone here had
known Mariah her whole life and trusted her implicitly.

Besides, they would rather be fixed up
quickly than hang about waiting for potions and poultices that
would take much longer just for the sake of propriety.

Usually Mariah loved helping out. She got to
use her talents for herbs and see plenty of her friends and their
families at the same time.

Usually it was enjoyable. Today it was
nothing short of painful.

"But the pain, Mariah," whined Mrs.
Callahan.

Mariah sighed inwardly then tried again.
Every week it was some new malady. Every week there was some
dramatic ailment or other. This one, however, was amongst the most
ridiculous.

"I understand, Mrs. Callahan, really I do.
Burns can be very sore indeed. But I promise you, applying this
cream will set you to right in mere days. Wouldn't you rather that
than lose a finger? How will you bake your delicious pies and cakes
without your finger?"

Mrs. Callahan, mercifully, seemed to get
momentarily distracted by the compliment and Mariah pressed her
advantage.

"The Christmas Fete will be a total disaster
without your baked goods as you well know. And our vicar is far too
old and fragile to deal with such a disaster, do you not
think?"

Mrs. Callahan tried and failed to suppress
her gleeful smile.

"Yes, I suppose you are right, my dear.
Nobody could deal with the sheer volume of baking. And I am, after
all, the only one with the secret recipes. But it is terribly
sore," she demanded, making sure Mariah still knew how she
suffered.

As if I could forget!
"I am sure it is
and I can tell you, on behalf of the whole of Wymouth, we
appreciate you struggling on to save the Fete."

At this, Mrs. Callahan beamed once again.

Gathering up the cream and her variety of
belongings, she bid a valiant farewell and bustled outside,
forgetting to clutch her hand as she had been doing on the way
in.

Mariah heaved a sigh of relief and went back
to her cough remedy. This one was in high demand and Mariah wanted
to make sure she had plenty at hand.

A cool wind signalled the arrival of someone
else through the door and she looked up with some trepidation.

Even Mrs. Callahan couldn't have injured
herself in the past twenty seconds!

Thankfully, it was merely the vicar's
wife.

"Good morning, Mrs. Yates," Mariah greeted
her with a smile.

"Good morning, Mariah. How pretty you look
today."

Mariah smiled at the compliment, the same one
she'd been hearing from Mrs. Yates since she had been a small
child.

"What can I do for you today? Is the vicar's
gout bothering him again?"

"Oh, no, my dear. Your elixir is truly
working wonders with him. No, I've come with rather a strange
request. I wonder if we might speak privately for a moment?"

Mariah's interest was immediately piqued.

"Yes of course, come through," she said,
leading the way to a small sitting room at the back of where she
kept her supplies.

Only moments before, she had brewed a pot of
tea, and thankfully it was still warm, so she set about pouring
some for them both.

Once they'd settled down with their teacups,
Mariah looked at Mrs. Yates expectantly, her hazel eyes shining
with curiosity.

"I wonder if you've heard that somebody has
bought Greywood Manor."

"Oh, really? Why that's wonderful," enthused
Mariah.

Greywood Manor had been the seat of the only
Peer that had ever lived near their small village. Old Sir Thomas,
a baron, had died without ever having an heir of his own and
apparently some distant nephew or cousin or other had
inherited.

The village gossip was that the nephew, or
cousin, was a bit of a gambler and had immediately set about trying
to sell the place to fund his habit.

Mariah had been fifteen when Sir Thomas had
passed away and in the five years since there'd been no word of a
buyer.

"Isn't it? It will be so nice to have the
place returned to its former glory."

"Indeed," said Mariah, brushing a chestnut
lock from her face. She was still unsure as to why Mrs. Yates
wanted to speak to her but she was too polite to hurry the lady
along.

"Anyway, the place has been bought by a Mr.
Brandon Haverton. Comes from a very well respected family in the
south somewhere."

"How odd that he should have bought it then,
if his family is in the south."

"Yes, I thought so too. But apparently he has
a lot of business interests around Lancashire and Yorkshire. Mills
and such things. So he wanted somewhere to stay here rather than
frequent inns whilst here on business."

Mariah nodded her understanding.

"Anyway, I am sure you are wondering what
this has to do with you."

"A little," she confessed with a smile.

"When Sir Thomas's heir inherited the place,
you know he did not even visit. Mr. Haverton has already hired a
staff to clean the place out and prepare it for his arrival.
However, there are plenty of valuables; books mostly, you remember
how fond the old man was of his library. And I fear the local
village girls just do not have the knowledge required to sort
through such a place. It is a rather monumental task."

Mariah's heart quickened. Everybody who knew
her knew how passionate she was about books. And the Greywood
Library was something she'd been itching to see since
childhood.

"I know how busy you are with helping your
father, my dear so please do not feel that there is any pressure to
accept. But Mr. Haverton's solicitor had asked if there was a
suitable person to go through the library and make note of its
value and general condition and, well, Mr. Yates had thought that
you would perhaps consider it?"

Mariah almost yelped in her excitement.

"Oh, Mrs. Yates. I would
love
that."

The older lady smiled indulgently.

"Yes, I thought you might," she said now
reaching into her reticule and pulling out a letter. "Here are the
instructions from Mr. Smith, Mr. Haverton's solicitor. Apparently
the gentleman is hoping to have taken up residence in time for
Christmas so ideally he would prefer if matters were settled by
then."

Mariah did the calculations in her head.

"Four weeks until Christmas day. When does
the gentleman plan to arrive?"

"The week before, if I am not mistaken."

"And what is it that he wants to do with the
library?"

"As to that I am not sure. The letter says
that he wants it catalogued before he makes any decisions. The
furniture in the house will be used. The personal artefacts such as
portraits of Greywood family members are to be stowed away, out of
sight."

Mariah had begun perusing the letter as Mrs.
Yates spoke.

"It says here that
they
will arrive
before Christmas. The gentleman has a family?"

"No, indeed. He is quite unattached. I have
no idea who is accompanying him. How strange."

Mariah nodded in agreement but did not feel
as though it was any of her concern. She would be gone before the
family arrived. It was a lot of work to be sure. But she was more
than capable of handling it.

Mrs. Yates stood to take her leave after
receiving plenty of assurances that Mariah would be there tomorrow
to work through the library and that her father could manage
without her for some weeks.

As she reached the door, Mrs. Yates turned to
Mariah.

"Mariah, dear. I – that is, well…" The lady
hesitated, and Mariah was surprised to see that she looked worried
about something.

"Yes, Mrs. Yates? Is anything the
matter?"

"Mr. Smyth hinted at a rather, um,
cantankerous nature when discussing Mr. Haverton. He is most
assuredly a gentleman, albeit a rather sullen one by all accounts.
I should not wish you to be at the receiving end of ill manners or
a bad spirit."

Mariah thought of the curmudgeonly souls she
dealt with daily in assisting her father. Though she supposed she
knew them well enough to handle them.

"Please do not worry. I am quite sure I have
met more than my fair share of sullen gentlemen in my time.
Besides," she continued with what she hoped was a reassuring smile,
"if I am accurate and quick in my work, I shall not even set eyes
on the man."

Mrs. Yates seemed well pleased as she took
her leave and Mariah was finally free to feel excited. How
wonderful to take on such a project. Her curiosity was piqued by
the new owner, no doubt. But she was far too pleased about the
opportunity to worry overly much about bad tempered strangers.

If Mariah was pleased
with the events, Mrs. Bolton was certainly not.

"For goodness sake, Mariah, what possessed
you to agree? You have no need to take on paid work. What will
people think?"

"I do not care a jot what people think,
Mother," Mariah answered firmly.

"No, you never have. But will you have no
consideration for your poor sister? For this family's good name?
Why people are sure to think that we
need
you to work. Do
you not understand? People will think we're—" Mrs. Bolton raised a
hand to clutch her string of pearls. "—
poor,"
she finished
in a horrified whisper.

Mariah bit her tongue so hard she could taste
blood.

Her mother, even now after years of marriage
to a respectable surgeon, who was lovely but only a surgeon, still
had delusions of grandeur.