Hidden Affections (Hearts Along the River Book #3)

Delia Parr

Description

Betrayed by her husband, Annabelle Tyler wears the burden of legally being a divorcee, a difficult position for an upstanding young woman to find herself in. While attempting to start a new life for herself, an unexpected turn of events once again has Annabelle married--this time to Harrison Graymoor, the most eligible, yet elusive, bachelor in Philadelphia. Harrison assures her that he will secure an annulment immediately, unaware that the constable has sent word of the marriage to the press in Philadelphia. And here things continue to go awry. Harrison's past, a philanthropic cousin with his eye on Annabelle, and the appearance of Annabelle's ex-husband threaten the tentative relationship growing between Harrison and his "wife." For two individuals set against marriage, there are certainly a lot of second thoughts regarding the one forced upon them.

Informations

• Publié par: Baker Publishing Group
• Date de parution: 01 mai 2011
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781441232359
• Langue: English

Extrait

Hidden Affections
Copyright © 2011
Mary Lechleidner
Cover design by John Hamilton Design & Paul Higdon
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
ISBN 978-1-4412-3235-9
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.
E-book edition created 2011
Dedicated to
my three beautiful grandbabies.
You fill the world around you
with faith, hope, and love.
Chapter One

WESTERN PENNSYLVANIA 1831
Annabelle Tyler may have hoped she would marry again someday, but she never dreamed she would be wearing handcuffs during the ceremony when she did.
Scarcely thirty-six hours after leaving Hanover, Pennsylvania, to forge a respectable future for herself, she barely listened to the man next to her as he grumbled his vows. She was still struggling to make sense of the frightening turn of events that had led her here, to this nondescript minister’s cottage in a small rural hamlet where she knew absolutely no one.
Despite the sheriff’s coat around her shoulders and the hearty fire burning in the small parlor, Annabelle shivered with cold that had penetrated every bone in her body. She glanced up at the man by her side. Harrison Graymoor had been a complete stranger to her until only yesterday, but the ordeal they had endured together had taken its toll.
His finely tailored vest and cambric shirt were badly soiled with the same dirt and grime that stained her travel gown, and exhaustion had painted dark circles beneath his ebony eyes. His determined fight to prevent this marriage had now been replaced by a resignation that surprised her, since he had far more at stake by marrying than she did. The grim reality that he was being forced into this marriage, however, had erased his rakish smile and the surprisingly deep dimples in his cheeks, but he held his head high when he finally gritted, “I do.”
She swayed a bit, locked her knees, and dropped her gaze. She had not eaten since the day before yesterday, and she used every last bit of her waning strength to keep standing on her own two feet, if only to maintain a modicum of dignity in front of the four men who were witnessing this mockery of a ceremony. When she adjusted the heavy coat about her shoulders, she inadvertently yanked the short chain on the metal cuff on her right wrist that kept her linked to Harrison.
She froze instinctively, and his hiss of pain distracted her from the minister’s monotone recitation of the vows she was supposed to pledge. When she looked down, she saw a fresh trickle of blood ooze down the back of his hand from beneath the too-small cuff that dug deep into his swollen left wrist. She quickly averted her gaze, but not before she got a glimpse of the end of the rifle barrel nudged against his back. “I didn’t mean to hurt you again,” she whispered. “I-I’m sorry.”
“The proper response is ‘I will’ or ‘I do,’ ” Reverend Wood admonished, as if she had been speaking to him.
When she turned her attention back to the minister, she wondered if he could see anything more than a few inches in front of his face, since his eyes were so clouded by age.
“I’m still waiting for you to recite your vows and acknowledge them,” he demanded, clearly annoyed that he had been dragged from his bed shortly before dawn to marry them.
One of the two men standing directly to her left edged closer in an unspoken warning to cooperate, reinforced as the two men on Harrison’s side nudged him closer to her. Determined not to utter any words that would seal her union to Mr. Graymoor, she took a deep breath to gather up the last of her rapidly fading strength. Now that it appeared she had no other choice, she swallowed her pride and decided she had to admit she was not the maiden they believed her to be. “Please. Just let me explain. There’s no need to force this man to marry me.”
The minister’s voice hardened with impatience. “Do you or do you not recognize the scandalous nature of your situation and the attempt we’re all making on your behalf to salvage your reputation?” he snapped.
“I’m a God-fearing woman of faith, and I’m telling you that nothing improper happened,” she insisted, repeating the claim she had made to the four men when they had rescued her, as well as Harrison, less than an hour ago. “I give you my word.”
Harrison cleared his throat. “I’m afraid it’s not your word and your character that are in question. It’s mine.”
She looked up at him and frowned. “That may be, but my future’s at stake, too,” she quipped before turning her attention back to the minister again and softening her voice. “The men who stopped our stage robbed us, handcuffed us together, and left us tied to the stagecoach while they escaped with the driver and all of our possessions. It’s not Mr. Graymoor’s fault or mine that it took a full day and night to find us. Mr. Graymoor was a complete gentleman and quite concerned for my well-being the entire time,” she insisted, remaining silent about his attempts to flirt with her when they first boarded the stage or the fact that the robbers would never have robbed the stage if he had not been aboard in the first place.
The sheriff snorted. “Harrison Graymoor may be exceedingly wealthy, but he’s also a cad and a libertine who needs to be held accountable for his outrageous behavior, particularly with women. His reputation, I assure you, is well-known far beyond Philadelphia, where he resides.”
“We’re far from Philadelphia, and we should all avoid gossip that no one here can confirm,” she argued, but she was also relieved they were a far cry from Four Corners, the small town where she had become equally infamous.
The minister nodded. “I’m retired from active ministry now, but I’m not a hermit. I recognize the family name, as well as this man’s reputation,” he informed them and looked directly at Annabelle. “The sheriff told me he found you lying in this man’s arms after spending the night with him alone. Are you now disputing that fact, or is it true?”
She blushed, although she could not remember exactly how or when she had ended up cuddled against his side during the night. “Yes, it’s true,” she admitted, “but the weather had turned exceedingly cold again and the thieves had stolen my cloak as well as his coat. Mr. Graymoor eventually freed us from the ropes they used to bind us to the stagecoach, but there was nothing he could do to remove the handcuffs,” she explained, still ridden with guilt for injuring Harrison when she tried to do just that. “We tried walking to find help, but a thunderstorm forced us back to the stagecoach for shelter. By then, we were both drenched and—”
“And this wretched man used this poor woman’s distress to his sinful advantage.” The man directly to her left squared his shoulders and took a step forward. “My name is James Jenkins. One of Graymoor’s country estates is near my home in Chad’s Landing. My wife, Camille, went to work there when he showed up four months ago, and this man . . . this man . . . seduced her,” he murmured, repeating the charges he had made to the sheriff earlier.
“I did no such thing,” Harrison argued in a low voice that was just as authoritative as it had been earlier when he’d tried to reason with Jenkins and the sheriff. “I did not seduce Mrs. Jenkins, and I did not seduce Miss Tyler.”
“He gave this to my wife,” Jenkins charged, pulling an intricate gold bracelet from his pocket and dangling it in front of the minister, who leaned his face so far forward to see it that Annabelle wondered how he kept his balance. “What sort of man gives a married woman an expensive gift like this unless he’s seduced her?”
The minister pulled back and pursed his lips. “Mr. Graymoor?”
Harrison shrugged. “It was a parting trinket to thank her for her work as a temporary member of my staff. Nothing more.”
Jenkins shoved the bracelet back into his pocket. “You gave it to her to assuage your conscience, although I’m surprised you have one,” he charged and drew in deep breaths of air as his cheeks reddened with the shame of his wife’s betrayal.
“I did not seduce your wife, and she did not betray you. Not with me,” Harrison argued.
Sheriff Taylor shook his head and addressed the minister. “I’m afraid Mr. Graymoor’s reputation as a womanizer makes it difficult, if not impossible, to take him at his word. Not where women are concerned.”
The minister cleared his throat, effectively ending the discussion. “Perhaps if Mr. Graymoor were to be married to a ‘God-fearing woman of faith,’ ” he said firmly, using Annabelle’s own words against them both, “she might inspire him to lead a life of honor befitting the name he carries. More importantly, Miss Tyler should not bear the burden of having her reputation or her name sullied—”
“There is no burden,” Annabelle argued, tilting up her chin. Although she was weakened by fatigue as well as frustration, she could not overlook the absurdity of the predicament she was in or the fact she was actually handcuffed to the man she was being forced to marry. Handcuffed!
“Even the appearance of impropriety demands that you be protected. If you were a married woman, that would be a matter for Sheriff Taylor to address. You are, however, a single woman, and it is a matter for me to remedy,” he insisted and turned to Harrison. “Are you prepared to fulfill the vows you have already pledged or do you rescind them?”
Harrison sighed. “No. I do not rescind them,” he murmured and arched his back as if the barrel of the rifle had been pressed harder.
“And you, Miss