The Stranger I Love (The Runaway Brides #1)

Chapter 1

Estelle

Ipaced the short distance around my bedchamber, searching for the perfect words to express my deepening ire toward my brother.

In my distracted state, I nearly tripped over a crinoline petticoat spilling out of my open trunk, my foot catching on the stiff, corded fabric.

Shoving it aside, I continued my pursuit about the room.

Words.

I needed the right words.

Nora sighed as she placed a neatly folded stack of handkerchiefs in my trunk before tending to the petticoat I had stepped on. “If ye don’t wear a hole in the carpet, miss, ye’ll wear one inta me nerves.”

I stopped by the fireplace and pointed at Nora. “Nerves. Yes. Reginald has quite the nerve asking this of me after abandoning me here for months on end.”

This only turned Nora’s sigh into a moan.

Anyone else might have thought she had hurt herself, but I understood that her pain stemmed from an ache in her heart over Reginald and me.

For all my twenty years, she had remained at my side, caring for me as well as my mother had, God rest her soul, but Nora loved Reginald too.

It was true she was angry about what my brother had done to me, but she was equally crushed with my rash response.

What she didn’t know was that it was not rash.

I had already decided to leave the town of Wyndgate.

A nagging feeling had left me restless and discontent for some time. It’s why I had secretly answered the advertisement for a governess. Reginald’s news had only propelled me to accept the offer. Now, fears or not, I would not yield. I had to leave.

I had to find myself.

“I know what to say to him now.” Marching to my desk, I sat down with a thump. “I must be firm,” I instructed myself. “Bold. Direct!” Dragging a piece of paper toward me, I picked up my quill and dipped it into the ink.

Dear Reginald,

By the time you read this letter, you will have discovered that I have abandoned Norwood Hall.

I know you did not expect to find upsetting news in place of your sister after your long journey from the continent, but I was left with little choice when faced with your ridiculous arrangement to marry me off to a perfect stranger.

I consider myself a dutiful sister, but you are asking too much of me.

Frankly, I am tired of always doing what is expected.

The idea of continuing a life patterned this way leaves me quite ill.

It is time for me to take my life into my own hands.

I paused, a small smile curling at my lips. Being frank was rather empowering.

“Would ye like me to pack yer books?” Nora interrupted from behind me.

My books. I shifted my attention to the small tower on my bedside table and the larger one on the floor beside it.

It physically hurt to consider leaving them behind, and I rubbed my hand over my heart.

I heard my mother’s voice in my head—so afraid of what Society would say about my half-Irish blood after the scorn from the famine and the mass migration to England—instructing me to read all the proper books of moral refinement.

“To be a truly accomplished young lady,” she’d said, “you must be fluent in at least three languages, proficient in several of the fine arts, and be well-read in a variety of subjects suitable for a lady. No one will look down on my child. You, Estelle, are going to be a Society diamond.”

I unconsciously straightened my gloves, ensuring the seam lines lay perfectly straight, as I had done a thousand times.

But it was never enough. I was never enough.

I had thrown myself into my education, neglecting every other part of my life.

But what was the point of being an accomplished young lady now?

No one cared a fig about my long hours on the pianoforte or had seen a single one of my sketches.

I had never had my chance to be a diamond and never would.

Once Mother and Father had died, my future had fallen to Reginald. He had firmly established his standing among the upper echelons of Society as a gentleman of considerable means, and now, with his vast inheritance, he possessed the freedom to remove himself from home as far as he pleased.

And me?

All my preparations for a Season had been a waste.

I had not left space in my life for close friends, and I was no use to anyone.

I set my jaw and informed Nora of my decision. “I will no longer devote myself to my studies. And before you ask, leave my music and drawing supplies too. A working woman does not have time for such vain pursuits.”

“Yes, miss,” Nora sniffled.

The noise caught my attention, and I stole a glance over my shoulder. Nora’s mobcap sat slightly askew atop her head. Frantic worry for me had altered her formerly neat appearance, and I daresay, she was on the verge of tears. My stomach knotted. How I hated when she cried over me.

If only Reginald had spent even half of the last five years at Norwood Hall, everything would be different.

I turned back to my letter.

Before you grow angry and toss this letter in the fire, you must realize that you have dug this grave yourself.

Though you could easily afford to sponsor a Season in London for me, chaperoning me at a few social functions would have sufficed.

I could have secured a husband to my own liking and taste.

I lifted my pen for the briefest moment, loneliness stabbing me in the chest. Everyone I loved had left me behind. But this time, I would be the one to leave. With tears stinging my eyes, I scrawled the rest of my pent-up emotions onto the page.

I know being home reminds you of the loss of our parents—I understand better than anyone—but I am still alive.

You have neglected your duties to the estate and to me.

Since I have been left to depend on myself for most of my needs, then I should be granted the privilege of speaking for myself on this matter as well.

As children, we always agreed to play our games fairly.

Let us apply this same principle as sensible adults.

I cannot allow you to cheat me out of my future happiness.

I touched the end of the quill to my lips, sudden worry drying my eyes. “Reggie is going to be furious when he learns that not only have I run away, but I have contracted myself to be a governess.”

“More than furious. Ye know ‘e’ll be outraged,” Nora answered. “Especially when yer parents had such high hopes for ye.”

I bit my lip. “Yes, well, I had high hopes too. But now I must redirect my future until I can make it my own.” Nora crossed the room to gather my riding habit with its matching top hat.

It was a beauty, but I had never worn it.

Reginald had insisted I learn to ride despite my lifelong apprehension about horses.

Hoping he would stay long enough to teach me, I had purchased the habit.

I did not have the heart to tell Nora that it would only continue to gather dust once I began my new position.

Nora held the habit to her chest like it was a direct line to Reginald. “Maybe ye should write to yer brother and ask a few more questions ‘bout this man he ‘as found for ye. Mayhap, ye will change yer mind.”

“I shouldn’t have to write to ask,” I argued. “He should have volunteered the information and been transparent from the beginning. A man only ever sees life at large, where a woman’s life lies in the details. He should know that I had expectations. His vagueness is infuriating.”

I should tell him that too. I dipped my quill in the ink again, my hand flying across the paper.

Honestly, Reggie, you did not even include the man’s name in your last correspondence.

Indeed, a woman should know much more than his name when she becomes engaged, but what sort of family she will be attaching herself to and the place she will reside the rest of her life.

These are pertinent details and add to my argument that running away is the only logical choice.

Nora sat back, her eyes pleading. “But isn’t stayin’ ‘ere better than all of Society callin’ ye the runaway bride? Yer reputation will be ruined.”

My lips tightened into a straight line. “No one is going to call me that.”

“They might,” Nora suggested with a shrug.

I huffed. “Who is to say they won’t call me the enviable, independent debutante?”

She shook her head. “More’s likely they’ll say somethin’ awful. Like the ill-behaved debutante or the rogue intended. Who will want to marry ye then?”

I glared and propped my arm over the back of my chair.

“Suppressed women everywhere will herald my bravery. I will be known as the wise, the plucky, the courageous. A woman who paves her own future. Surely a man will want such fine attributes for his children and consider marrying me.” I had started out strong, but I could hear the doubt in my own voice by the end.

Would anyone want to marry me after this? I would be a far cry from a diamond.

Nora sniffled again, her eyes screwing up with emotion. “I fear yer dreamin’. Yer bound to be a lady fallen from Society who wanders around poor and abused.”

“Enough,” I breathed. In truth, I was more than a little scared, but I could not let that stop me. “No one is going to call me anything. I will change my surname from Lowry to Palmer.”

Nora squinted. “After the craggy undertaker? Ye want me to be reminded of the ol’ crotchety man who buries the dead every time I speak to ye?”

I sighed. “I have already given this new surname to my employer. Once I have my inheritance, I will simply change it back. Besides, even if I’m found out, men won’t care what I’ve done if it means they can have the money I receive on my birthday next.

” It was not the most promising idea, but it would have to do for now.

I picked up my pen to finish my letter. I could not forget my anger and let Nora persuade me.

Don’t try to search for me, Reginald. I know what it is like to live alone, and I feel capable of securing a living suitable for a lady. When I reach my majority, I will return to collect my inheritance.

Love,

Estelle

I sighed, pushing the paper away from me. “There, Nora. It is finished. I will leave first thing in the morning.”

“Yes, miss. Not to worry. I can be packed by then. I don’t have much.”

I folded my arms. “Nora, you aren’t coming with me.”

She folded her arms too and set her jaw. “Yer mother would insist.”

Cheeky woman. “Mother is not here, and I am. I insist you stay.” I gave her my firmest look.

She matched it with a defiant humph.

I swung back in my seat and picked up my pen again.

P.S. I am taking Nora with me.

She insists.

Blowing on the words to dry them, I read through them one last time. I would miss Norwood and the comforts of home. I would miss the memories of my family. And I would miss Reggie. My dear, lost brother.

P.P.S., I suppose I was rather harsh in my estimation of you.

You are not a horrible person for wanting my future secure.

There is so much I admire about you that would never fill the breadth of this paper.

But good qualities aside, I could never marry this man you have found for me. Please understand.

I am sorry . . .