Pursuing a Passionate Wallflower (Preview)

Chapter One

Miss Aurora Shaw jostled awake from her momentary slumber to the sound of carriage wheels  crunching a freshly gravelled road. Stretching momentarily, she reached over to her riding  companion, Miss Chelsea Hurtle, to gently rouse her. 

“Are we finally here?” Chelsea asked in a groggy voice. 

“Thank heaven for it,” Aurora agreed as she pulled back the curtain, hoping to spy Hampshire  Hall. 

She closed her emerald eyes and let the warmth of the spring sun warm her ivory skin. “I’ve missed the fresh air of the country,” Aurora mused. 

Chelsea stretched before pulling back her own window curtain and inspecting her childhood  home. 

“How long has it been for you, Rora?” Chelsea asked with pity on her brow. 

“Not since I was twelve,” said Aurora. 

“I suppose it was too hard for your father to return Milton Abby after your mother’s…” Chelsea’s  voice trailed off. 

Though an equal amount of time had passed since Aurora sat at her ill mother’s bedside and listened to her final whispered words of love. Chelsea knew well that this was still a tender corner of her best friend’s heart. 

For Chelsea, every winter spent at Hampshire Hall from that moment had been a mere shadow of  what it once was. Though she loved her parents, the Earl and Countess of Archer, no amount of  familial closeness had held a candle to the deep connection she shared with Aurora. 

As the daughter of a wealthy merchant and the granddaughter of Viscount Wheaton, Aurora’s  family had been acquainted with Chelsea’s long before their births. Chelsea and Aurora had  grown-up together, running barefoot and free between their two respective homes in this quaint country village. 

“I hope it’s not too difficult for you,” Chelsea inquired, placing one gloved hand on top of her  friend’s. 

“Not at all,” Aurora responded, turning to her best friend, a wide, bright smile lighting her face.  “It feels like coming home. I only wish my father had accepted Lord Archer’s invitation to stay at  Hampshire just once before his passing. I think he would have done wonders for his broken  heart.”

“If you wish, I am sure the driver could take us by the Abbey. If you wished to see it, I mean.” 

Aurora shook her head without hesitation, causing a stray chocolate ringlet to free itself from  beneath her pink bonnet. 

“It has been let out by the Smiths all these years,” she explained as her reasoning for such a decided refusal. “It would only be right that they made changes. Still, I could not bear it to see if Mother’s garden was altered in any way.” 

Chelsea nodded in understanding. 

“But let us not dwell on such a solemn topic,” Aurora encouraged with a nudge to her  companion. “I declare that for the next three weeks, we are forbidden to speak of anything  other than your wedding.” 

Aurora watched the slight pink tinge of her friend’s ivory cheeks at the mention. “I’m still at a loss for words that Jensen asked me to be his wife,” Chelsea confessed. 

“Come now, Chels!” Aurora scoffed. “Lord Jensen is the one who should be counting himself  lucky. You are making him the happiest man in the world; I am sure of it. One only needs to  spend ten minutes in your company to see how much the two of you are in love. You are going to  be the partner he has always hoped for, not to mention a magnificent mother to his little girl.” 

“I fear Lady Ashley is still not particularly happy that her father has chosen to remarry again. I  do hope she will warm up to me.” 

“She is so young. Only fourteen, yes?” 

Chelsea nodded. 

“Give her time.” 

“It’s a delicate balance,” Chelsea confessed. “Hearing Jensen speak of his late wife. Even though it was a marriage of convenience. One that was orchestrated by their families when they were still very young. Though he would have never wished for her demise, he didn’t find her an amicable companion. Of course, Eliza doesn’t share such feelings for her mother. She misses her sorely every day. It has added a whole extra layer of tension as Jensen and I have prepared for our  nuptials.” 

Aurora thought of her own situation. Her parents had been madly in love. So much so that at her  mother’s death, a part of her father had been buried with her. Though he was still kind to his  daughter, he was never quite the same. Sometimes Aurora wondered if it was a broken heart that  had taken him to the grave only five short years later.

With no parents, she had been taken in by her father’s elder brother, Viscount Wheaton, and his  wife. Their own children were grown and out of the house. It didn’t escape Aurora the burden they had taken on when they had accepted their 17-year-old niece as a ward. 

After losing both her parents, Aurora had been hesitant to let anyone care for her in a paternal  way again. Both the Viscount and Lady Wheaton had been kind, gentle, and patient as she  worked through the emotions of it all. Though Lady Wheaton could never replace the mother she  lost and wasn’t what Aurora would consider a naturally maternal woman, she did respect the fact  that Lady Wheaton had done her part as guardian and companion to her in those formative years. 

“There will always be a special place in Lady Eliza’s heart for her mother, but there is room there  for you, too. I assure you as she matures, she will see that you are a perfect match for her father.  Plus,” Aurora added with a wicked gleam in her eyes, “once we show her all our favourite devious  diversions here, she will have no choice but to love you.” 

“I am to be a wife and mother,” Chelsea giggled. “I cannot be devious any longer. Those days are  sadly behind me.” 

“Not even climbing through the wood hutch into the kitchen to sneak Cook’s iced tea biscuits?” 

Both girls giggled as childhood memories of adventures only befitting wildlings came washing  back. 

“Well, perhaps I’ll show her how to reach the biscuits. Only because I will want some too!” 

“I’m just glad Lord Jensen agreed to have your nuptials here at home. It’s good to be home,” she  repeated her mantra with a sigh as she leaned her head against the window-pane. 

“Of course, a quiet country wedding was preferred, and when I begged for my parent’s house to  be the place, he put up little fight. I suspect it is because he doesn’t believe my tales of our wild adventures as children. He has no idea how much we may corrupt Eliza in this manner.” 

Both girls giggled again. They were finally coming to the end of their journey. Aurora noticed  they reached the point where the long gravel drive through the park passed a small fishing pond  before emerging from the trees onto the well-manicured grounds of Hampshire Hall. 

She gave her companion a wicked look before sticking her head out the window. “Driver, please stop! We wish to get out here.” 

“We are nearly there, Miss Shaw,” he called in return. “I am to take you all the way to the house.” 

“You either stop now, or we will be forced to disembark from a moving vehicle,” Aurora warned.

She opened the door to the still-moving carriage to make her point. The driver, wishing no harm on the two ladies, quickly pulled the horse’s reins back, urging them to stop. They, too, were eager to arrive home where fresh hay and oats awaited. 

“Rora, we can’t,” Chelsea chastised, though it was clear that her heart wasn’t in it. 

Both girls were already removing slippers, hiking up their gowns to reach their silk-stocking  ribbons. By the time the driver dismounted and arrived at the door to help the ladies, they were already scrambling to get out of the carriage. With their shoes and stockings thrown to the wayside, they ran barefooted towards the pond. 

“It is too chilly for a swim!” Chelsea called to Aurora, already several metres ahead of her. 

“Yes, I suppose you don’t want to catch a cold mere weeks before your wedding,” Aurora shouted back as she took the pin out of her hat and watched it fall on the cool grass. “So, frog kissing it is.” 

“But I already have my Prince Charming,” Chelsea laughed as her hat followed close behind her  friends. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Aurora responded determinably as she came to the edge of the pond. “If you  don’t kiss a toad by the end of the day, I am sure it will be a sign of bad luck. No doubt Lord  Jensen will arrive at the wedding covered in warts!” 

“And for you?” Chelsea countered, “Will you be kissing one as well? I thought you decided on a  solitary life after last Season.” 

“It’s true,” Aurora agreed as she dipped one toe into the edge of the pond. “I do it only for you,  my dear Chels. It is probably best we both kiss a toad for luck. For poor Lord Jensen’s sake. And  perhaps if my toad turns into Prince Charming, all the better for me.” 

Chelsea watched as her friend hiked up her rose-pink gown above her knees and waded into the  pond. 

“Rora! How can you stand it?” 

“It’s surprisingly warm. Plus, everyone knows that the very best Prince Charming toads can only  be found at the centre of the pond.” 

With that, Aurora gave up on her last hold of propriety. To the echoing squeals of her friend, Aurora dropped her skirts and dove in beneath the cool, murky water. 

 

Chapter Two

Ian Ransbury rubbed his eyes against the bright light beaming down on the London street before  donning his top hat. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was the sunlight he was attempting to adjust to  or the fact that he truly was Duke of Denver in just about title alone. 

A title he never expected or even wanted, he thought with a scoff. 

Though he had known all his life that his great grandfather was Duke, a distinguished title and  holding that had often caused his father to boast with pride at dinner parties, Ian had never  actually had contact with the late Duke. 

A second cousin, the late Duke, had apparently lived a life of extravagance. Coupled with the last  decade plagued with mental ailment, the estate passed on to Ian had been a name, a crumbling  estate, and crippling debt. 

A summons home from his newly commissioned post had found him no longer seeing a future as  a military man, but as a strategist. He would be damned if the dukedom crumbled under his watch  no matter its condition upon delivery, if nothing more than for the memory of his father. 

For the last five years, Ian spent every ounce of energy not only learning his new role in society,  but also in keeping the blasted estate afloat. Ian’s first order of business had been to liquidate and  retrench wherever possible. 

At first, it was easy enough to cut out the frivolities his second cousin had grown accustomed to.  Ian had little need for the excesses that the ton seemed to drown in. Once the fat was cut from the  living expenses, he began to liquidate anything he could to pay off the drooling debtors. 

He smiled to himself as his eyes slowly adjusted and his mind wandered back to the fascinatingly  strange adornments in Denver Hall. There was a room of taxidermy animals from Africa ranging  from a hyena to an elephant, though the man had never once been to Africa or even had an affinity for hunting. 

Those, of course, he had donated to the London Museum. He was of the mind that knowledge should be shared with all and as freely as possible. However, after his latest meeting with his solicitor, he was wondering if his moral judgments were going to be his downfall. 

He edged to the end of the sidewalk and looked down the cobble street for a hackney to hail to  return home. Well, it wasn’t home anymore. He had just turned over the keys to his London  townhouse. 

He now had just under a week to vacate before the family he rented it to arrived. The added  income would keep him afloat for one more season. Outside of that, if his investments didn’t pan  out soon, he wasn’t sure what would become of him. 

He huffed in frustration as another hackney passed by, already carrying a passenger. He should have taken up his solicitor’s secretary’s offer to acquire one for him. Ian ruffled at the idea 

of standing by while someone did his bidding, but now he was beginning to see that perhaps his  lack of knowledge of the area was leading to little success. 

He meandered down the street, still slightly busy from early morning strolls and men returning  from breakfasting at their local gentlemen’s club, when he spotted his salvation. 

Hand in the air, he waved to get the attention of a cabbie. Though the man didn’t connect eyes  with him, he pulled over‌. It wasn’t until Ian rushed to the door that he realised it was another person who had caught the driver’s attention. 

Both Ian and the gentleman stood awkwardly before each other. If there was a lady present, it  would be easy for the other to yield, but both men arriving at the carriage at nearly the same moment made it an awkward dance to see who should yield to the other. 

Ian was familiar with the man. Thomas Cunningham, the Earl Stewart, was a nice enough man to  get along with in the few accusations they had crossed paths. 

“I believe the cabbie was directed by you,” Ian succeeded. “I’ll catch the next one.” 

“Yes, well, I’m not a Duke, Your Grace. I am happy to call another,” Lord Stewart retorted,  opening the door for Ian. 

Ian considered pushing his stance. He hated when things were given to him via rank and not  virtue. Just as he opened his mouth; however, a familiar soft laugh wafted across the air from  behind. He stiffened instantly. 

Never one to back down, yet not wanting the voice to come any closer and bring the person  along with it, he made a quick decision. 

“Where are you headed? Why don’t we share it?” 

Ian didn’t wait for a response. Instead, he clasped Lord Stewart on the back and ushered him in.  The Duke didn’t care if Stewart was headed to India in this hackney. He would have gone  anywhere to remove himself from the woman he saw who was quickly approaching. 

“Isn’t that the Duke who…” he heard a female voice loudly say.  

“Unfortunately, yes,” a sullen voice replied in the all too familiar tone. “I’m so glad Carmeyer  rescued me from him. I expect he will be proposing any day now, in fact,” her voice trailed on. 

Ian shut the door a little harder than he meant to as anger rose in his chest. He didn’t know what  was worst, the lies that this woman was spreading about him, her brazen openness to it, or the  fact that it had also cost him his closest friend, Harold Carmeyer.

Lord Stewart coughed, uncomfortable, as he settled himself in the seat across from the Duke. It  was clear that he, as well as any member of the ton passing in a one-block radius, had just heard  that exchange. 

Ian mumbled the street both men resided on to the driver before turning back to his riding  companion, ready to have it out with him. It wouldn’t be the first time he had to defend his  reputation since his encounter with the chit and the lies she had spun since, and he doubted it  would be the last. 

Much to his surprise, however, Stewart’s expression was not of one ready to assault an attack.  Still, it had to come out in the twenty-minute ride, otherwise the stretch would be spent in uncomfortable silence. 

“I suppose you have already heard that tale,” Ian ventured, pointing his cane back in the direction  they just left. 

“Oh, yes,” Stewart waved off as he settled more comfortably in the stiff wooden seat. “Lady  Lucille has always been one to exaggerate.” 

“It’s not an exaggeration,” Ian shot back, a bit harsher than he would have liked. “It’s a flat-out lie. She was more than happy to hang on my arm until…” 

He hesitated to finish the sentence. He still was learning all the proprieties of society and didn’t  think discussing his financial woes in a shared hackney with an acquaintance was entirely proper. 

“Until she saw the glitter of gold elsewhere,” Stewart resourcefully finished. Ian nodded his agreement with the assessment. 

“And then she had to make up these falsehoods,” he waved his hand in the air, “to save her  reputation. Of course, the gossip pages had no problem listening to her drivel and pass it on to  anyone with a penny to spend.” 

“Yes, the ton loves a good story. Truth be told, Your Grace, we all may enjoy the excitement of  the drama, but anyone with half a brain knows the truth of the matter. Lucky for you, I not only  have half, but it is fully intact,” Stewart finished with a charming chuckle. 

Ian relaxed back in his seat. Though his encounters with the man had been few since taking on  the dukedom, his instincts had always been to like him. Unlike Carmeyer, who no doubt  befriended him for the simple association to a Duke brought to himself, Stewart was secure and  seemed to be genuinely a good person. 

Ian relaxed back deeper into his seat, letting the tightness of his muscles relax. At least today, he  would not have to fight the battle over his reputation. 

“Actually, I have a bit of a proposition for you, Your Grace, if you will indulge me,” Stewart  stated as a lightbulb flickered in his blue eyes. “It would help you escape the ton and those 

horrible gossip rags for the next few months. And in exchange, it would grant me an amiable companion during the drudgery of a family obligation.” 

Ian couldn’t help but feel peeked by Stewart’s proposition. 

“You convinced me at ‘escaping the ton,’” Ian encouraged his companion on. “And please, none of this Your Grace stuff. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to it,” he added. 

“Just Denver, then?” Stewart suggested. 

“Yes, Denver will do fine.” 

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“Pursuing a Passionate Wallflower” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

Miss Aurora Shaw, with her rebellious nature and an ample fortune at her disposal, has no intention of bending to the will of society. Content in her spinsterhood, she eagerly lends her support to her dear friend’s wedding preparations, all while skillfully evading the relentless pursuit of matchmakers. Little does she know that a fateful swim in her cherished pond will kindle the scandalous gaze of a mysterious gentleman, who happened to pass by. Stirred by desire and tinged with embarrassment, Aurora boldly confronts him, sparking a passionate argument that sets their destinies ablaze.

Can this burning meeting lead her to the most sinful journey?

Ian Ransbury never sought the title of Duke of Denver, burdened as it was with inherited debts and the weight of London society’s judgment. Desperate to escape the accusations of beastly behaviour following his failed courtship, he seeks refuge in the countryside with an old friend. When fate leads him to witness the alluring sight of Aurora swimming, he is instantly captivated by her presence. As their gazes meet, an electrifying connection ignites, leaving them both consumed by a forbidden passion they struggle to resist.

Will his lust for her challenge his preconceived notions of love?

Amidst a thrilling scavenger hunt orchestrated by friends, Aurora and Ian find themselves reluctantly thrown together, embarking on an unexpected, scandalous partnership. As their connection deepens and boundaries blur, they succumb to a sizzling kiss that sets their hearts aflame, unraveling a web of secrets and jealousy. Will their passion prove to be the catalyst for a love that surpasses any scandal? Or will they be doomed to a loveless, conventional future?

“Pursuing a Passionate Wallflower” is a historical romance novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

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