Lord Thomas and his bride (The Duke's Brothers Book 3) by Fiona Miers (smallest ebook reader .TXT) 📗

She lost a brother and mother that day, the worst day of her life.

This life they now led was not what she had imagined would happen when her mother became pregnant. She had envisioned her mother and father growing old together, raising her and her brother with laughter, warmth and love.

Things were different now. Cold and empty as the winters here in Weymouth.

She lowered her gaze for a moment and fought the warm tears that stung her eyes, blurring her vision. She placed her napkin on the table and rose to her feet unapologetically. “Mother would not have called me foolish, regardless of my actions.”

“Rebecca...”

She left the table, marching down the hallway and up the narrow stairs towards her second-floor bedchambers.

Once inside the safety of her room, she closed the door and walked towards the large window overlooking the bay. She had specifically chosen that room for the view.

She had always adored the beach, and all things in nature. The scenery in front of her had the perfect blend of both. The bay in the distance, the beautiful blue sky meeting the ocean at the horizon.

And the cliffs.

The cliffs that had brought her Thomas Melton, despite his misfortune.

The young lord had made her feel good about herself with his complimentary words and kind eyes. She had not experienced such kindness and sincerity from a man of such high stature before. Most nobles were crude and abrupt with a simple “Miss” such as herself. They’d certainly never divulged personal details of themselves. Not in the way Thomas had done.

She knew not to expect to see Thomas again. And even if she did, given their positions in society, she was hardly placed to do more than curtsy to him. There was certainly not any way that would change, but that fact didn’t deter her from thinking of him.

A smile formed on her lips as she recalled Thomas’ teasing smile and sparkling eyes. He was incredibly handsome, and she doubted that she’d be able to fall asleep tonight with thinking of him. At the same time, she was aware that he would not lose a wink of sleep over her.

But she was a hopeful dreamer, always had been. And it was the flame of hope in her heart that had helped her to process the death of her mother and baby brother. And she was never giving that part of her personality up.

THE GENTLE WAVES MET the soft sand of the beach, lapping gracefully along the surface. There was not a soul in sight – apart from Rebecca’s maid – and the stillness of the beach brought forth a feeling of peace within her heart.

She was seated on a smooth surface of rock, the gentle morning breeze blowing against her face. It was still very early, as the sun had barely broken through the horizon.

It had been several days since her encounter with Thomas Melton, the young lord who had captured her attention. She was unable to stop thinking of him, although the chances of meeting him again were very slim. Their worlds were different in every aspect imaginable and although it caused Rebecca much frustration, she understood this.

She glanced at her sketch of the beach, the horizon and the ocean she had drawn, and a smile lifted her lips. She had enjoyed drawing since she was a little girl and her mother had encouraged her, as she had a natural talent for it. However, after her mother’s passing, she had done very little, burying her charcoal and paper away in the depths of her leather trunk.

Rebecca wasn’t certain whether it had been Thomas who left her inspired enough to seek out her sketching supplies, or something else. But today she felt light in her heart. The heaviness had lifted – not entirely – but she was able to breathe a bit easier.

She cocked her head as she studied the horizon before working on her sketch of the perfect view in front of her. Her easel was firmly planted into the sand

A clear-skied morning, not a cloud in sight, and the hope of a new and impactful day that lay beyond the sea. What more could she ask for?

“Miss Rebecca?”

Rebecca’s brow furrowed at the sound of her maid’s voice. She glanced at Connie over her shoulder and asked, “Yes, Connie?”

“Your breakfast is ready.”

The maid was crouched beside a rug smoothed out on the sand and plates of food rested there now. There was a glass carafe filled with juiced strawberries and other fruit, which Rebecca loved.

When she had mentioned to her father that she wished to sketch on the beach that morning, her father had been sceptical of permitting her to go alone, hence Connie, the chaperone.

Although she wasn’t considered a child by the world, her father was still protective of her. His reasoning was that if he lost her, he would have nothing left of value to him.

She understood his thought process, but at times she wished that he would be a bit more lenient with her. She had vowed to look after her father after her mother had passed, but he should realise that she wished to start her own life and family one day.

She had never shared that with him, however, and had kept herself away from men with whom her father did not wish her to associate.

“No man will ever be good enough for Rebecca,” her father had uttered many times.

This did not bode well for Rebecca, whose thoughts still returned to Thomas Melton, the young man who clearly did not impress her father.

Rebecca carefully rose to her feet and made her way across the sand towards Connie and her breakfast. As she sat down, a cheerful voice startled them.

“Good morning.”

Rebecca’s head snapped to the side and her jaw dropped in disbelief. For a moment she was certain that she was dreaming, as it was not possible for her to be seeing him again.

“Thomas?” she asked with surprise in her voice.

“Rebecca,” he said