The Honourable Fortune Hunter: A match-making Regency Romance (Scandalous Miss Brightwells Book 5) Read online

  The Honourable Fortune Hunter

  Beverley Oakley

  Copyright © 2020 by Beverley Oakley

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Author’s Note about the series

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

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  Also by Beverley Oakley

  About the Author

  Author’s Note about the series

  The Scandalous Miss Brightwells

  The Honourable Fortune Hunter is Book 5 in my Scandalous Miss Brightwell series about wicked and lively Fanny and Antoinette Brightwell who have made spectacular marriages—despite scandals and the treachery of a disappointed suitor determined to besmirch their reputations.

  When Lizzy Scott arrives at Quamby House, already contemplating a marriage offer from a handsome, self-confessed fortune hunter, she’s already lost her heart during her dramatic journey — to a fortune hunter who is even more handsome and notorious.

  But one who is pledged to another deserving miss.

  Meaning it’s time for the Brightwell sisters to step in and play matchmaker.

  I hope you enjoy The Honourable Fortune Hunter which is full of the trials and tribulations of first love but with a happy ending to ensure no deserving hearts miss out.

  Here are the other stories in the series, each following on from each other, although each can be read as a stand-alone.

  1. Rake’s Honour

  The beautiful Brightwells—clever Fanny and her easily-led sister, Antoinette—battle scandal and spurned suitors to achieve gilded marriages against the odds. A love match in Fanny’s case and a very satisfactory compromise in Antoinette’s.

  “Fanny and Fenton's story is full of drama, humor and sizzle.” ~ Amazon reader.

  2. Rogue’s Kiss

  How bold would a potential suitor be if he were told the lie that the young lady he desires has only six months to live?

  “A great read - one which will leave you sighing for more.” ~ 4 Out Of 5 Hearts From Cariad Books

  3. The Wedding Wager (previously titled Devil’s Run)

  A rigged horse race - with a marriage and a lost child riding on the outcome.

  Can the matchmaking Brightwell sisters avoid scandal and disaster as they try to rescue two tortured souls and unite their passionate hearts?

  “Very intriguing Austen-esque novel with well developed characters and story line. The best historical romance novel I've read in a while.” ~ Amazon reader.

  4. The Accidental Elopement

  Friends at seven, lovers at seventeen, Katherine and Jack were meant to be together.

  But when a tragic mistake results in marriage to the wrong man for Katherine, a heartbroken Jack heads to foreign lands to make his fortune.

  “This book kept me hanging until the very last page... but the agony of not knowing the twists and turns until they were on me made it the most splendid adventure." Amazon reader.

  Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the series as much as I enjoyed writing about these two scandalous sisters and their matchmaking conquests!

  Chapter 1

  “She’s a hoyden; she’s undisciplined, and she has shown no gratitude during the five years she’s lived on our charity.”

  “Charity?” Fanny, Lady Fenton, leaned forward to offer her guest a fruit bun, still warm from the kitchens below. It had been several hours since luncheon, and Mrs Hodge looked like she needed regular sustenance. “If Lizzy is your ward,” Fanny went on, slowly, “or rather, was your late husband’s ward, then I trust you are not…out of pocket?”

  After twenty minutes of listening to an exhausting list of Miss Lizzy Scott’s failings, Fanny was having difficulty keeping her tone sweetly patient. Mrs Hodge was the widow of Fenton’s loyal batman during the Peninsular Campaign, Jeremy; and Fenton, upon recalling that his old retainer’s ward, Lizzy, was of marriageable age, had insisted Widow Hodge, and her inherited ward, be invited to the five-day Christmas house party being held at Quamby House, the country seat of the Earl of Quamby to whom Fanny’s sister, Antoinette, was married.

  “I have determined not to find myself out of pocket since poor Jeremy died, for I do not indulge her as he used to.” Mrs Hodge dabbed at her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief and smoothed her black crepe skirts in affected distress. “My, but the girl was a trial that first year she came to us. Crying every night—wailing!—and trying to climb out of the window.” Mrs Hodge took a delicate sip of her tea while Fanny wondered if she should mention the crumb that clung tenaciously to the bristles of her upper lip.

  She looked down at her pale-pink, half kid boots and tried to contain her impatience. “I believe Lizzy had lost her entire family to scarlet fever when she was only fourteen?” She made sure the gentle reminder was couched in an enquiring tone. If there was one thing Fanny had learned since she, too, had been an undisciplined hoyden, it was that the appearance of sweet patience created the necessary veneer needed if one were to achieve one’s desires.

  And Fanny’s immediate desire was to survive the dreadful woman’s visit without causing offence to the neatly coiffed and shod personage perched on the velvet-upholstered chair in front of her. And to see her out of the door as soon as possible.

  “Fourteen! What a terrible age!” Mrs Hodge swallowed the last of her fruit bun with an energetic gulp. “Before the age of seventeen, she’d been expelled from three Ladies Seminaries—three of this country’s finest purveyors of elegance, refinement, and education.” She sniffed. “Well! A properly disciplined girl will know if she takes a thing too far. When my Susan was fourteen and dared to speak back, she soon discovered what would not be tolerated. Some swiftly administered discipline was all that was required to make her the docile, pliant creature who knew what was good for her when she accepted Sir Richard, whose tender solicitude she’s enjoyed these past five years of matrimony.”

  The woman positively bristled with pride at the mention of her illustrious son-in-law.

  “Didn’t Susan reject Sir Richard?” The memory returned swiftly to Fanny of her husband telling her of his dismay at such a mismatched union.

  “Only the once. Susan was brought up to be good, just as I was. She accepted that her mother knew what was in her best interests. Fortunately, my poor, dear Jeremy was on the Continent when Sir Richard was so insistent that dear Susan honour him and become his wife.” She wrinkled her nose and her eyes narrowed, as if recalling some failing in her late husband. “Despite his wartime heroism
and ability to keep his family in great comfort…” of course Mrs Hodge would not be so coarse as to articulate the fact that her husband had amassed a fortune through trade… “Jeremy always was as soft as butter when it came to dispensing discipline. That, I’m afraid, was left up to me.” Mrs Hodge took another sip of tea and the crumb thankfully was washed away, for when she raised her head to once more smile at Fanny, only the yellowing of her teeth was a distraction. Her smug and self-satisfied expression was a fixture to which Fanny had become inured. Mrs Hodge obviously knew how to play to her strengths for she generally kept her mouth closed when smiling.

  “And now Miss Lizzy is coming to Quamby House tomorrow,” Fanny said, “and you intend that she accepts Mr Dalgleish if he proposes.”

  “When he proposes, Lady Fenton,” Mrs Hodge corrected her. “Lizzy has twenty thousand pounds in return for what Mr Dalgleish brings to the union.”

  “And what does Mr Dalgleish bring to the proposed union?” She cleared her throat and said, delicately, “I heard whispers that Mr Dalgleish was a fortune hunter.”

  For a moment, Mrs Hodge appeared to falter before she said, smoothly, “Nonsense! I would never dangle Lizzy in front of a…fortune hunter!”

  Fanny raised her eyebrows. “Does Lizzy favour Mr Dalgleish?”

  Mrs Hodge reached for another fruit bun. “Mr Dalgleish is handsome and personable, and Lizzy has agreed to let him court her these next few days. Their betrothal will be announced during the Christmas Ball.”

  “I gather Lizzy has become a burden to you,” Fanny said in a poor attempt to hide her dislike.

  “Lizzy has always been a burden.” Mrs Hodge swallowed her fruit bun and said rather combatively, “I defy any woman to deny she would not harbour the same sentiments in her sensitive, maternal breast, as I do following five long years of intransigence and ingratitude.”

  Fanny straightened in her chair and put her cup down with a smile. She’d had enough of the conversation. The mere thought of what else she must survive in order to get to the other side of her sister’s enthusiastic Yuletide celebrations was giving her a megrim.

  “Well, I daresay it will be on your conscience if Mr Dalgleish proves not to be worthy of Lizzy, in which case you’ll not persist in the girl marrying him,” she said, rising in dismissal.

  “You’ll do what you can to promote the union?” It seemed Mrs Hodge had not taken account of Fanny’s words.

  “Provided Mr Dalgleish and Lizzy appear to suit.” There, that let her off the hook.

  Mrs Hodge nodded in apparent satisfaction as she moved towards the door. “Mr Dalgleish will prove eminently suitable to Lizzy. I shall make sure of it.”

  “You’re sure she’s not shown a disinclination towards him?”

  “If she gives such an appearance, it’s only to goad me.” Mrs Hodge’s nostrils flared. “The only reason Lizzy was allowed to come for this visit rather than remain in Houghton was because Mr Dalgleish would be here, and Lizzy promised to agree to the match if there was nothing objectionable about him. Which there is not. You’ve seen nothing objectionable?”

  “I have not met the gentleman. He is expected later this evening.” Fanny tried to remember what else had been said about him. Other than he was known to have a predilection for young ladies of fortune. Fenton had invited him, as she recalled. But as more than three dozen guests were expected over the next few days, most of them invited by her sister and brother-in-law, she’d stopped trying to account for each one of them.

  “And Lizzy will come tomorrow.” Mrs Hodge raised an eyebrow. “But she will not stay long if she’s unable to properly direct her naturally flirtatious impulses.”

  “Unless they’re directed at Mr Dalgleish? Nevertheless, if he’s not as pleasing to her as hoped, then Lizzy has the opportunity over the next few days to meet a good many other worthy young gentlemen, surely?” Fanny said and was surprised at the vituperative response.

  “I hope I have persuaded Lizzy sufficiently of Mr Dalgleish’s merits. He and I have had mutually satisfactory discussions, and I know he will be good for the girl.” After an odd pause, she added, “Why, he’s quite mad about her!”

  “Or her money?” Fanny suggested, which caused Mrs Hodge to respond tightly, “Isn’t everything in this world about money, Lady Fenton? I believe you and your sister know that better than most.”

  Fanny smiled, not riled in the slightest for she’d married, not only for money, but for love, too.

  “We don’t want poor Lizzy to fall prey to a fortune hunter, now do we, Mrs Hodge?” Fanny said with mock severity as she manoeuvred her towards the door.

  Mrs Hodge’s colour rose. “Mr Dalgleish is not Theodore McAlister,” she said tightly. “I would hardly promote the match if he were cast in such a mould.”

  “I’m very glad to hear it,” Fanny agreed, for who did not know the name of the infamous young blade who’d kidnapped Miss Catherine Harcourt, a beautiful heiress en route to her own wedding, the previous year? Every newspaper and gossip sheet in the land had been full of nothing else for the whole month of November. And beyond.

  “Well, let us hope that Mr Dalgleish conducts himself properly and that Lizzy’s attachment to him grows,” Fanny said in parting, thinking if Lizzy did not have looks to recommend her, at least the fortune she was to inherit would ensure she could leave the household of the dreadful Mrs Hodge. She almost sympathised with the girl.

  But then, wasn’t it up to every young woman to show a modicum of intelligence if she were to be delivered from circumstances not to her liking? Stubbornness and belligerence endeared a dependant to no one, thought Fanny, before remembering her wayward youth when she’d defied her mother at every turn in order to avoid the marriage her own mother had lined up for her with dreadful Lord Slyther.

  But Fanny had been beautiful and captivating.

  Miss Lizzy Scott sounded none of these things.

  Chapter 2

  “Course there’ll be far prettier young ladies than yer, miss, but none as comes wiv twenty thousand pounds so ‘ow can yer not be a success?”

  Lizzy glanced at her maid whose attention was focused on her knitting in the gently rocking carriage. “Agreeing with me is hardly going to cheer me up, Mabel,” she said as she turned to watch the slowly passing scenery. The very slowly passing scenery. She sighed. The journey to Quamby House would have taken half the time if Lizzy had been allowed to go in Mrs Hodge’s stylish equipage the day before. However, Mrs Hodge’s enigmatic allusion to ‘a matter of some delicacy’ which she’d had to discharge en route had, apparently, precluded the presence of tiresome misses such as Lizzy.

  “I know you’re trying, Mabel,” she added as Mabel seemed to be focused only on the bonnet she was knitting for her tenth nephew, “but that is hardly putting a rosy light on matters. Mrs Hodge is selling me off to the highest bidder. I am not about to attend a lovely week of merry-making and Christmas jubilation. I am going to market. Like a pig to slaughter.”

  Mabel sniffed and finally looked up. “That ain’t a verra ladylike way o’ phrasin’ things, Miss Lizzy. And yer don’t ʼave to marry ʼim—or anyone—if yer don’t want ter. It’s yer choice. But since yer’ve met the feller twice, an’ yer liked ʼim well enough, I reckon we ought ter try an’ think cheerily on it.”

  “Any feller who offers to hand over two thousand pounds of my inheritance to Mrs Hodge if she succeeds in brokering a match between us is definitely a feller and not a gentleman.” Lizzy smoothed her hands over the fine wool of her new Turkey-red carriage dress, chosen by Mrs Hodge so that her late husband’s ward might make the best impression on arrival, and added, “I might be the daughter of a soldier who made a fortune in trade, but I have been brought up to expect what any young woman of good birth and breeding should expect. I intend to marry a gentleman, not someone who’s done some underhand bartering with that old witch who can’t wait to get me off her hands.”

  “But yer promised the ol’ witch,” Mabel said, clapping h
er hand to her mouth and glancing about as if she might have been overheard when they were about as remote in this rural backwater as it was possible to be. Even if he could have heard, old Tom Coachman sitting on the box above them was as deaf as a post.

  “I promised her I would consider it.” Lizzy sighed again. “Though the truth is, I probably will marry him if no one else charming and personable presents himself. Granted, Mr Dalgleish is charming and personable. He knows it, too. I just would rather he was a little less avaricious. Ah, Mabel,” she sent her maid her most put-upon look; the one that never failed to drive Mrs Hodge into a rage. “The irony of being an heiress is that I gain nothing from it except a fortune-hunting husband.”

  “Yer would if yer were patient, miss.” Mabel, optimistic as always—even if her choice of words sometimes indicated otherwise—returned to her knitting, shrugging as if she already knew the answer that was coming.

  “Please stop rubbing salt in the wound, Mabel. I know you’re trying to find something to cheer me, but really, there is nothing. Patience, in my situation, means waiting until I’m twenty-five before I gain access to a single penny of my inheritance unless I marry. That’s nearly six years!”

  Even Mabel looked crestfallen at this though the subject had been discussed many times between them. Then she said brightly, “Yer don’t ʼave ter marry Mr Dalgleish. There’s lots o’ nice gennulmen who’d like ter marry yer. Why, Reverend Lilydale—”