Shipmate: A Royal Regard Prequel Novella (16 page)

***

Bella woke in the night feeling as though
she were sleeping in a furnace. It took a moment to realize she was
wrapped in a heavy flannel nightrail, a thick woolen blanket, and
her very large husband’s very warm arms, all on a very small bunk.
She struggled to free her legs from the twists of fabric without
waking him, but to no avail. His arm tucked her closer to his side,
and he placed a kiss on the crown of her head.

“Is everything all right, sweeting?”

She finally pulled the fabric loose about
her ankles and knees again and settled back into his shoulder.
“Yes, Myron.” She traced her fingers along his chest, twisting them
in his chest hair.

“You are not… there is no soreness?”

“A bit. Not enough so I would notice. Will
it… always…?”

He hastened to comfort her, his voice once
more the slow, steady rumble she was coming to rely on. “It should
not be so painful again.”

She nodded. That was what Charlotte said.
She decided in that moment that everything else her cousin had told
her about marital relations had been a well-meaning lie. It was not
like the fireworks show at Vauxhall. It was not like the crescendo
of a symphony. It was not like sliding into a cool pond on a hot
day.
This
was exactly how Aunt Minerva had described it: “It
cannot be counted the most pleasant of activities, but it is not
the worst, either.”

Of all the duties marriage had wrought thus
far, this was among the easiest, and she had never seen Myron so
relaxed as when they drifted off to sleep to the sound of waves
slapping gently against the hull. It was like looking at an
entirely different person. Softer. Sweeter. More… loving.

And it was rather pleasant to be held by
him. She had never in her life felt so protected. So cherished.
This part, she quite liked.

She snuggled in closer, placing a delicate
kiss on his massive shoulder, and he pulled her tighter against his
chest. “Sleep, my dearest,” he whispered against her hair. So she
did.

***

If you enjoyed Bella’s “Happy-for-Now” with
Myron, make sure to read her “Happy-Ever-After” in
Royal
Regard
, and look for her continuing story in the ongoing,
impromptu storytelling space, the Bluestocking Bookshop on
Facebook.

If you liked
Shipmate
, please help
other readers find it, too. Consider leaving a review wherever you
bought the book.

While it was never my intent to create a
Royal Regard
‘world,’ I must acknowledge the many readers
who demanded to know the backstories of the characters in the book,
resulting in the prequels. The usual thanks go to Jude Knight and
the Bluestocking Belles, who are my stalwart support through every
project I complete, and also the Writing Wenches, my ‘tribe.’ My
research into ships and seagoing travel during the Regency was both
supported and (frequently) corrected by historical consultant, C.
A. Sorensen. Additional feedback was provided by early readers, who
made so many salient comments about Bella and Myron that the
manuscript almost doubled in size, so special thanks for the
contributions of: Jacqueline Reiter, Angela Withrow, Andra Jenkin,
Scott Amis, Maria Arell, Sonja Fröjdendal, Quenby Olson Eisenacher,
Crystal Cox, and Liana Abarca-Smith, who cared enough about the
hero and heroine to be grouchy when they felt I had misrepresented
their respective natures.

Mariana Gabrielle is a pen name for Mari
Christie, who is not romantic—at all. Therefore, her starry-eyed
alter ego lives vicariously through characters who believe in their
own happy-ever-afters. And believe they must, as Mariana loves her
heroes and heroines, but truly dotes on her villains, and almost
all of her characters’ hearts have been bruised, broken, and
scarred long before they reach the pages of her books.

She is a professional writer, editor, and
designer with almost twenty-five years’ experience, and a member of
the Bluestocking Belles, the Writing Wenches, and the Rocky
Mountain Fiction Writers. She has written two Regency romances,
Royal Regard
and
La Déesse Noire: The Black Goddess
,
and two
Royal Regard
prequel novellas (with two more yet to
come), and a mainstream historical,
Blind Tribute
, to be
released in 2016).

Author Website & blog:
www.MarianaGabrielle.com
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/MariChristieAuthor
Twitter:
https://twitter.com/mchristieauthor
Pinterest:
http://www.pinterest.com/marichristie/

(available now)

Sired by a British peer, born of a paramour to Indian
royalty, Kali Matai was destined from birth to enthrall England’s
most powerful men. She hadn’t counted on becoming their pawn.

(available now)

When Bella Holsworthy returns to London after fifteen
years roaming the globe, she faces unwelcome attentions from two
wicked noblemen, the ton’s spiteful censure, and the bitter
realities of a woman alone in England.

(available now in the box set,
Mistletoe,
Marriage, and Mayhem
)

Charlotte Amberly gives back a Christmas gift from
her intended—the ring—then hares off to London to take
husband-hunting into her own hands. Will she let herself be
caught?

(coming soon)

Major John Smythe returns from Waterloo a broken man,
determined to stay one step ahead of his former life, but when he
meets Rose Allen, the sins of his past must be confronted, for
without her, he has no hope for a future.

and to find out how she is blessed with both a
Happy-for-Now and a Happy-Ever-After in one lifetime, make sure you
pick up
Royal Regard
!

When Bella Holsworthy returns to England after
fifteen years roaming the globe with her husband, an elderly
diplomat, she quickly finds herself in a place more perilous than
any in her travels—the Court of King George IV. As the newly
elevated Earl and Countess settle into an unfamiliar life in
London, this shy, not-so-young lady faces wicked agendas, society’s
censure, and the realities of a woman soon to be alone in
England.

Unaccustomed to the ways of the beau monde, she is
disarmed and deceived by a dissolute duke and a noble French émigré
with a silver tongue. Hindered by the meddling of her dying
husband, not to mention the King himself, Bella must decide whether
to choose one of her fascinating new suitors or the quiet country
life she has searched the world to find.

Continue on to the first chapter.

1820: London, England

Teeth clenched against the wrong thing she
was sure to say, shoulders cramped and stomach churning, Baroness
Holsworthy smoothed down the tiers of ruffles on her borrowed
dress, tapping her toe out of rhythm to the music. The stays she
wore so infrequently, but would never abandon in London, dug into
her waist like a fork into flummery.

Bella tried not to stare into the looking
glasses lining the Almack’s ballroom, hoping to appear insouciant,
well above silly concerns of wardrobe and hairstyle, ignoring the
sight of her lips trembling. However, this only left her to look at
the overwhelming crowd of vexatious people, not just their harmless
reflections.

She picked at the poorly fitting, delicate
tulle floating around her body, a borrowed dress better suited to
her prettier cousin Charlotte at age seventeen than either woman in
their thirties. Wriggling her shoulders beneath the almost-adequate
alterations Charlotte’s maid had accomplished in the fifteen
minutes allotted for the impossible task, Bella thoroughly
regretted her spontaneous decision to call on her cousin so late in
the day.

The music had already started for a
contredanse
, but she paid little attention to the dancers
taking their places, distracted by the bright candlelight mirrored
in the gilt trim along every wall. She stopped her toe drumming
against the parquet floor; given her situation, there was no
prospect of dancing, so it made no sense to engage even one foot
with the music. Of course, the only other activity to engage in was
gossip, from which she would be excluded by virtue of being the
primary topic.

The aristocrats peering at her through
quizzing glasses over the bannister of the upper floor set her
heart trembling, so she turned the corner of her eye, her
peripheral vision next caught by a grouping of at least half a
dozen women, just outside her hearing, staring at her as they
chattered behind their fans.

It seemed a fine moment to take in the
frescos above the bas-relief mouldings, all pretty enough, but no
masterpieces here. The sculpture might as well be plaster pasted
onto the cheapest marble veneers, and the paintings could have been
commissioned from any student at the Royal Academy. Having seen so
many masterworks around the world, she could find nothing to keep
her attention from wandering back to the echoes of guests in the
wavy pier glass, which had been silvered poorly and was, if she
looked closely, somewhat unclean.

She patted at her chignon, searching out
loose tendrils of her stick-straight hair. Surely, it would be
falling out of the tight ringlets by now, a style that made her
face look a half-stone heavier and had no chance of surviving the
heat of the crowds, no matter how chilly the spring evening outside
the door. As suspected, loose strands were already sticking to the
back of her neck above her nearly bared shoulders, and she
grimaced, envisioning the sweaty mess in plain view of anyone
behind her.

She sought her husband in the crush of
bodies, mindful of her fluttering hands, but unable to quell them.
Craning her neck, her nose wrinkled against too many colognes
barely masking the smell of too many people. Her cousin, the
Marchioness of Firthley, appeared at her side and snapped her fan
across Bella’s arm.

“You look like you have a palsy, Bella. Stop
twitching. They will be along shortly.”

Between her rigid carriage, the height of
her coiffure of black curls, the steep heels of her dancing shoes,
and the sleek velvet gown making her appear more slender than her
figure allowed, Charlotte seemed to tower above Bella, though she
wasn’t more than an inch taller. Less than a year older, the
unyielding lines of her proud visage added a decade to her show of
superiority.