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Authors: Jennifer Connors

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical Romance

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BOOK: A Lesson in Forgiveness
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The hearth was flanked by two over stuffed armchairs cushioned in a dark red, flowery brocade. The same pattern was used on the curtains and bedspread. The floor was covered in large Persian rugs, well made and cushiony, with colors to complement the reds in the fabrics and the soft yellow wallpaper. All in all, the room was the picture of its time period.

“If you will sit, I will remove the pins from your hair,” the little maid said, ushering her to the vanity. Without question, Ginny sat down in the chair provided and for the first time, looked at her new person in the mirror.

She already knew she was a tall woman, which would be easier to get used to since Ginny was tall in her real life. What she was not prepared for was her looks. Ginny was greeted by russet colored hair, with natural blond highlights that made it almost glow in the sunlight coming in from the windows. Her face was long, but thin, with big, blue eyes and nearly perfect white teeth. Her face was completed by high cheekbones and a pert nose. Although not supermodel gorgeous, she was quite pretty. The eyes on this face spoke of intelligence, not frivolity. Her lips were full and pouty and looked perfect for flirting, which was a good thing considering her need to find a husband.

The maid must have noticed her staring at herself, because she asked, “Are you alright, miss?”

Ginny turned her eyes toward the maid in the mirror. Was she?

After spending a few months “roughing it” in the wilds of medieval Scotland, she was now in a place where there would be more creature comforts. She still had nothing of her previous life, nothing of the little things she took for granted:  no bathroom with running water, no TV with DVR and DVD. Although she knew she could live without those things, she wouldn't mind having her car and a grocery store full of chocolate bars again.

“I don't really feel myself today,” she said tentatively. She would gladly give up those comforts of the 21
st
century to have a little more information about the body she possessed. It was scary not knowing what was going on. It made one feel as if they would be caught at any moment, called a liar or impostor, and thrown out.

“A bath will set you to rights.” As the words hung in the air, there was a knock at the door. Two footmen brought in a large tin tub, followed closely by maids with buckets of steaming water. Once set up, Ginny's maid, rather Bethany's maid, assisted her in undressing. Once sitting in the tub, Ginny could feel all her worries melting away.

The maid washed her hair, then went about cleaning up the room. Ginny stared at the hearth, now empty, and thought about Ian. Had she fallen in love with him? Her medieval mega-hunk had truly gotten under her skin, in good and bad ways, but she didn't feel any intense loss. The sex was great and his company on most occasions was welcome, but it was more like losing a boyfriend, than a soul mate. Of course, Ginny had never lost a soul mate, so she could be wrong. Since she didn't feel like locking herself away and crying, she figured she was right.

Did she get it wrong? Was it because she hadn't fallen in love, like the romance novels all dictated, that she was stuck living another novel? Maybe she had to do things right this time. Not change the story, like she had with Ian. Follow all the plot lines of this novel to get her ticket home. Well, there was no way of knowing for sure, but at least it was a course of action Ginny could follow.

The maid excused herself to get a new bucket of warm rinse water. Ginny was alone to examine her new body. She was pleasantly skinny, not all bones, but filled out in curves. She finally had the flat stomach she'd always longed for in her own body. Her breasts were round and perky. Altogether, she figured any man would be pleased with her. Feeling down her stomach, she imagined the baby she was pregnant with before she left Ian and Scotland. Although Ginny wasn't saddened at not having to give birth without a real doctor, hospital and epidural, she felt a twinge of regret. It felt more like a disappointment than a true loss.

As she stared at her big feet, Ginny was jolted upright suddenly. The memories came back in a flash, all at once that her mind was having some difficulty processing all the information. Just as she thought she would pass out from the overload, Ginny laid gently back against the tub, still breathing rapidly, but at least no longer in fear of losing her sanity.

It was all there. She was Bethany Hamilton, daughter of William and Eugenia Hamilton. Her father was the third son of the Earl of Wexton, a position now held by her uncle. Although her father had never taken a profession, in the church or the military, they lived comfortably on an inheritance her father received from an uncle and her mother's sizable dowry. Her mother was the daughter of a baroncy, a family that she seldom saw or corresponded with. Although neither were in any fear of gaining title, Bethany was still considered a good catch due to a sizable dowry of her own.

Her maid returned with a large pitcher of warm water to rinse her off. Before she knew it, Ginny was out of the tub, dried off and sitting at her vanity having her hair combed. At least now, she knew her own maid's name.

“Tabby, have you heard anything about the rest of the party in attendance?” Ginny had to really think about how she said things, not wanting to give herself away.

“Lord Clarendon is among the guests. He has quite the reputation, he does.”

“My mother said the same thing. Reputation for what, exactly?”

“A rake, he is, miss. It is said he has slept with most of the married women of the
ton
. Now he needs a wife to produce a 'legitimate' heir to his title.”

“Oh,” Ginny finally got it. He was a man whore and probably would continue to be such after he was married. Some of the books she read were coming back to her. The rake, libertine, lecher would be reformed by meeting the perfect woman. A woman of such heights that he would be soured to any other woman's attentions.
Yeah, right.

So, was this Lord Clarendon to be her mega-hunk? Ginny figured she would meet just about everyone during dinner that evening. Just then, at the thought of food, her stomach gurgled noisily. For Ginny, eating was never a problem.

“Oh my, miss. You haven't eaten all day, have you? I will run downstairs and get you a tray. That way, we will have plenty of time to get you ready for dinner.” With that, Tabby the maid was gone. And Ginny was left wondering why it would take so damn long to get ready for dinner.

Chapter 2

 

 

When it was finally time to go to dinner, Tabby had pampered and primped Ginny to death. Her hair alone took over an hour, with dressing taking up another hour. In all fairness, Ginny was allowed some time to lay down and rest before having to present herself on a platter for all the eligible men to meet (or was that eat).

There was a knock at her door, which Tabby immediately opened. Her parents were waiting for her to join them. They needed to show a united front: the desperate parents, the willing maiden, the sizable dowry. All these things would make Ginny, or Bethany, a much sought after prize in the marriage arena.

Her dress was somewhat uncomfortable and completely impractical. First, there were so many layers to a gentlewoman's wardrobe as to be laughable. There were pantaloons, or what Ginny would call panties. Then a chemise, petticoats, stockings, and so on and so forth. Her shoes were merely slippers, which had no support. The dress itself was cut right under the breasts so if Ginny's new body had any tummy at all (like Ginny's own body did), a girl could easily hide that imperfection. Made of thin muslin, it was practically see through. Fortunately, with the dozen layers underneath, there wasn't any way to see any of it. The bodice was a square cut that showed the top of her cleavage.

Her hair was done up with a thousand hair pins, that pulled and tugged and made her itch. As if it weren't enough, Tabby intertwined ribbons and flowers into the mass as well. Soft tendrils floated down around her face, often making her want to blow the pieces out of her line of sight. Ginny figured that wouldn't be very ladylike, so she resisted the urge.

Walking stiffly behind her parents, a thousand rules went barreling through her head. Bethany had been drilled from the very beginning on how to act, what to say, which fork was which. Ginny's head was nearly exploding with all the information. It wasn't enough to be witty, oh no. You had to appear disinterested, while being witty. You could only dance with a gentleman twice, or there would be rumors. You must never be alone with a man, married or otherwise, unless he was very elderly or a relative.

As their group entered the drawing room, where a large group had already gathered, Ginny found she was somewhat nervous. Not that she really cared what people thought about her, but she had some kind of undeniable feeling that if she disappointed her new parents, it would cut her like a knife.
Dear God
, Ginny thought grimly,
what had these people done to this girl?

Their host, Lord Whitmore, approached Ginny's new parents with another gentleman in tow. Ginny could feel her mother's back stiffen and wondered what had gotten her ire. Slightly craning her neck to see the other gentleman, Ginny was rendered breathless.
Oh my God, oh my God
, kept cycling through her head.

The man, or should she say mega-hunk, was tall, well over six feet. He had broad shoulders and long limbs. His face was long, but perfectly proportioned to his body. He had clean cut hair, so black it almost appeared blue. His eyes were dark, probably brown, but Ginny couldn't tell from her angle. He had a straight patrician nose and beautiful white teeth. His smile was her undoing, as it gave him an irresistibly roguish look. This man had to be the one she was here to meet.

“Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton. Miss Hamilton. May I present Lord Clarendon.” Lord Clarendon executed a perfect bow, taking her mother's hand and lightly kissing the back of her fingers. Turning to her father, he gave another more curt bow.

“It is a pleasure to meet you.” Ginny noticed that he moved around her mother to align himself better with her. “And Miss Hamilton. May I say it is truly a pleasure,” Clarendon said with that roguish smile, bowing slightly and taking her hand to kiss her fingers. Ginny could feel the kiss all the way up her arm, stifling the silly giggle that almost escaped her mouth.

“The pleasure is mine, my lord,” Ginny said almost breathless.
He is a gorgeous specimen
, she thought continuing to keep eye contact with his beautiful, smiling face.
If he is a rake, he should know what he's doing.

“Lord Clarendon, would you be so kind as to escort Miss Hamilton to dinner this evening?” Whitmore was no fool. He could see that the Hamilton girl was quite taken by a pretty face. His long time friend was in need of a wife and settling down. One girl was as good as another, especially when he knew that Clarendon was unlikely to be faithful anyway.

Never taking his eyes off Ginny, Lord Clarendon smiled and said, “It would be my pleasure.”

Ginny felt a tingling all the way to her toes. Offering his arm, Ginny placed her hand in the crook of his elbow and allowed him to escort her toward the dining room. His arm was all muscle, strong and confident. She could feel, more than see, her parents behind her. Her mother's disapproval was like heat on her back. Ginny didn't care, but there was a little voice in her head cautioning her with all the rules of polite society. It was in Ginny's (no Bethany's) voice, so she wasn't worried about being schizophrenic, but it was getting quite annoying having to listen to it all the same.

“Why is it that we have not yet met, Miss Hamilton? Have you not been presented yet?” His breath in her ear was intoxicating. It really was sad that she should react so strongly to him, after knowing him for all of two minutes. It came off as quite shallow. Just as Ginny would berate herself, she caught a whiff of his scent. Sandalwood and leather.
Dear God, who cares if I'm shallow
, she thought as they continued their trek to the dining room.

“I have attended two seasons, my lord. I have a bad habit of being rather shy. You probably didn't notice me because I worked so well at blending in.” Ginny had to consider every word. But judging by her memories, Bethany was a wallflower of the highest extreme.

“Hmmmm. Strange. I rather like to talk to the shy girls. You must have been very good indeed at blending in.” Ginny turned her head to see him smiling at her again. It was like having Hugh Jackman or George Clooney flirting with you. It just made one want to giggle.

“I don't remember seeing you much, my lord. I can't imagine not noticing you.”

“Oh, I am sure we attended some of the same soirées and balls. Some of them can be quite a crush, can they not?”

“Indeed. It makes it rather unpleasant to attend sometimes. Of course, when one is trying not to be noticed, the more people the better.”

“Do you wish not be noticed now?” he asked with no little subtlety, raising his eyebrow slightly.

“I have no issues with you noticing me,” Ginny said without looking at him. It was outrageous flirting on her part, but she figured he was the one she was here to fall in love with, so she might as well keep things going. Her rulebook would cry foul, but at this point, Ginny needed to use more of her wits than rely on Bethany's years of instruction.

“I am certainly glad to hear that, Miss Hamilton,” Clarendon stated as he pulled her chair out. Ginny noticed that her parents were sitting on the opposite side of the table, farther down. They would neither hear nor participate in any conversation she had at dinner.

Dinner was a bland affair. The first course was soup, which was some creamy potato leek concoction. Ginny was glad for it, since she had some recollection of the food they ate during this era, and the soup was likely going to be the last thing she ate tonight.

The second course was some kind of fowl, covered in a rich, creamy sauce. Ginny tried the meat, thinking back to her own mother expounding on how you can't not like something until you try it. After a few bites, she figured she'd eaten enough to not cause talk. She did hope that the third course would have some vegetables or potatoes or something other than strange meat.

BOOK: A Lesson in Forgiveness
10.35Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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