Lady Traveller's Guide To Happily Ever After

Before there was a Lady Travelers Society, there was just one lady traveler...

Some marry for love. Some marry for money. But Violet Hagen’s quick wedding to irresponsible James Branham, heir to the Earl of Ellsworth, was to avoid scandal.

Though her heart was broken when she learned James never wanted marriage or her, Violet found consolation in traveling the world, at his expense—finding adventure and enjoying an unconventional, independent life. And strenuously avoiding her husband.

But when James inherits the earldom it comes with a catch—Violet. To receive his legacy he and Violet must live together as husband and wife, convincing society that they are reconciled. It’s a preposterous notion, complicated by the fact that Violet is no longer the quiet, meek woman he married. But then he’s not the same man either.

Chasing Violet across Europe to earn her trust and prove his worth, James realizes with each passing day that a marriage begun in haste may be enjoyed at leisure. And that nothing may be as scandalous—or as perfect—as falling hopelessly in love. Especially with your wife.

The Lady Traveler’s Guide to Happily Ever After

Victoria Alexander

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09538-9

THE LADY TRAVELER’S GUIDE TO HAPPILY EVER AFTER

© 2019 Cheryl Griffin

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

PROLOGUE

PART ONE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

PART TWO

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

EPILOGUE

About the Publisher

PROLOGUE
London, 1882

RICHARD BRANHAM, THE EARL OF ELLSWORTH, stood at the window in his library gazing at the back gardens, his hands clasped behind his back. One could tell by the set of his shoulders this was to be one of those discussions. Said discussions usually centered around his nephew’s—his heir’s—poor behavior, lack of responsibility and questionable future. Although James Branham thought his future had been rather firmly settled yesterday.

“Uncle Richard?” James braced himself. “You asked to see me?”

Uncle Richard turned from the window, the late-morning light emphasizing the lines of aging in his face. But then the man had passed his seventy-fifth year. “I thought we should talk.”

“It seems to me we’ve done nothing but talk the last few days.”

His uncle studied him for a long moment. “I’m proud of you.”

“I beg your pardon?” Not exactly what James had expected.

“You did the right thing.” Uncle Richard crossed the room and took his usual seat behind his ancient mahogany desk. “It wasn’t easy.”

James shrugged and sat in the equally old wingback chair in front of the desk. They’d faced each other countless times across this desk since James had come to live with his uncle at the age of nine when his parents had died. Fifteen years later, James’s behavior was still a matter that warranted discussion.

“There wasn’t much of a choice.” It seemed to James it came down to his future, or hers. He would survive a scandal. Men with money and titles always did. Violet would have been ruined. And it was entirely his fault.

“You saved that girl from scandal and probably a life alone. A young woman’s fate rests on her reputation.”

“I am well aware of that.” It didn’t seem at all fair that Violet should have to suffer for his mistake. What had he been thinking? Or had he been thinking at all? Apparently, there was a great deal of guilt that went along with selfish errors of judgment, even when one ultimately did the right thing.

“Public indiscretions, even those we might deem minor, are rarely forgiven by society. Being kissed by a man whose engagement to another woman is about to be announced is not something that is easily forgotten.”

“She did slap me,” James pointed out. “Hard.”

“Yes, I saw that as did everyone else.” Uncle Richard’s lips twitched as if he were holding back a smile. He met his nephew’s gaze directly. “It was a mistake, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, of course.” James nodded, perhaps a bit too vehemently. There was no need to change his story now. He had kissed Violet Hagen on a dark terrace at the ball where his engagement to Marie Fredericks was to be announced. Admittedly, in the light of day, one would never confuse Violet with Marie, but then it hadn’t been the light of day. And he had possibly drunk more than was wise. And...

And marrying Marie had looked more and more like a fate worse than death. He should have come up with a better way to escape marriage to her but he’d tried to convince himself he was simply experiencing the kind of apprehension most men felt when coming face-to-face with an eternity tied to the same woman. Regardless, that night, with his engagement moments from being publicly announced, he could feel a noose tightening around his neck. A wiser man, a better man, would have simply called it off. Only a true idiot would have seen the silly challenge of his friends to kiss his almost-fiancée as a chance for escape. Only a stupid ass—or a coward—would have allowed the world to think he had mistakenly kissed the wrong woman, knowing full well that very public mistake would lead to calling off any engagement. It had seemed a brilliant idea.

He never for a moment thought it would also lead to a fast marriage with the mistake in question.

“Do you like her?” Uncle Richard said without warning.

James frowned in confusion. “Who?”

“Your wife?” A hard tone sounded in Richard’s voice. “The one you married yesterday?”

“Ah, Violet.” He nodded. “Well, yes, certainly. She’s quite pleasant. Quiet, rather shy I would say. But witty under that terribly reserved exterior, as well. And not unattractive.” Indeed, as he had been courting Marie he’d grown to know Violet. The idea of kissing her had not been an entirely new one. But then that particular idea occurred to him with most of the women he knew.

“What do you intend to do now?”

“Now? Honestly, Uncle Richard.” James shook his head. “I have no idea. I don’t think I am ready for marriage.”

VIOLET’S BREATH CAUGHT. She’d been about to enter the library to greet her new husband and his uncle. Obviously James had no idea she’d be up and about but then it was already late morning. She suspected James rarely rose before noon.

“And yet you are married,” Lord Ellsworth said.

What was one supposed to do when hearing one’s husband of less than a day proclaim he was not ready for marriage? Violet Hagen—now Branham—was not given to eavesdropping under ordinary circumstances. These were scarcely ordinary.

“Well, yes but...”

Uncle Richard’s voice hardened. “But?”

“None of this is Violet’s fault. She shouldn’t have to pay for it.” James paused. “I’ve legitimately made her my wife, given her my name. I was thinking Violet and I would have one of those modern marriages. You know, the sort where we go our separate ways for the most part.”

Violet bit back a gasp. Her heart twisted in her chest. No! Twenty-one years of quiet, reserved, proper behavior, of not standing up for herself, of doing what was expected up to and including marrying a man who had no desire to marry her, shattered with his words.

“She and I could—”

“She and I could what?” Violet swept into the room.

Both men jumped to their feet.

“Good morning, Violet,” Lord Ellsworth said pleasantly. “I trust you slept well?”

“Quite, thank you, my lord.” She moved closer. “I couldn’t help overhearing. As you and James are discussing my marriage and my future, don’t you think I should be present?”

“Of course.” James offered her a chair.

“I’d prefer to stand.” She braced herself. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re suggesting that you and I continue our lives as if we were not married? You go your way and I go mine?”

“Well, yes, something like that.”

“I see.” Good Lord! The man really didn’t want her. A lump lodged in her throat. She ignored it. Now was not the time to feel sorry for herself. She’d thought, she’d hoped, that he liked her well enough to make a success of this marriage. She more than liked him, she’d been secretly smitten with the man very nearly since the moment she’d met him. What an idiot she was. “Then last night was...” She steeled herself, not sure if she wanted the answer. Still, only a coward wouldn’t ask the question and the time for cowardliness was past. “An obligation? The responsibility of a dutiful husband?”

“No, not entirely.” He paused to choose his words. “But last night does erase any question of the legality of our union. It protects you should something happen to me. Death or something of the like.”

“That’s certainly the best idea I’ve heard today,” she snapped.

Lord Ellsworth cleared his throat.

“I say, Violet, that’s uncalled-for.” James frowned.

“Really? And I think that’s the very least that is called for!”

“Didn’t you say she was shy and reserved?” Lord Ellsworth said in an aside to James.

“She was.”

“Shy and reserved will not serve me well at the moment, my lord.” She clenched her fists by her side, as much to still the trembling of her hands as from anger.

The oddest look of what might have been admiration shone in the older man’s eyes. Any other time she would have reveled in it. Now, she was fighting for her future. Her husband—her new husband—was about to turn her into that most pathetic creature: a wife in name only. Absolutely not! She squared her shoulders. “I will not return to my family’s house.”

“We shall find you a house,” James said quickly.

“She shall stay here.” Lord Ellsworth shot him a hard glance. “This is her home now.”

“Yes, of course.” Unease shaded James’s words. He was no doubt thinking exactly what she was—being under the same roof would be exceptionally awkward if indeed they were living separate lives.

“I’m not sure I wish to.” Violet crossed her arms over her chest. “In this marriage you’re proposing, you are free to continue your reckless and scandalous ways?”

“Yes, I suppose, although calling them reckless and scandalous does seem a bit harsh.”

She ignored him. “And I may do as I wish, as well?”

“I hadn’t really considered...” James’s brow furrowed in confusion. Obviously the man didn’t like the sound of that. Good. “I would think so.”

She smiled slowly. He didn’t seem to like that, either. “Now that we have agreed to the rules—” she turned to Lord Ellsworth “—I hate to be indelicate but I would like to discuss finances.”

His lordship nodded. “James will provide you with an allowance suitable for your position. Yours to spend as you please.”

James nodded.

She looked at her new husband for a long moment. Silly of her to think that simply because she had feelings for him, because they shared a certain friendship, that this sham of a marriage would succeed. She shifted her gaze back to his uncle. “Given our arrangement, London is going to be uncomfortable for both of us. I have always wanted to travel. Can that be arranged?”

“Yes, of course.” Lord Ellsworth glanced at his nephew. “Unless, you have any objection?”

“Whatever she wants,” James said quietly. It really was the least he could do and the man knew it. He’d ruined her life. Destroyed any real chance of a good match and put her at the center of scandal. Now he could make amends by financing her freedom.

“Very well then.” She met her husband’s gaze directly. “I do agree with you, James. I don’t think you’re ready for marriage. For that matter, I doubt you’re ready for any significant responsibility whatsoever.”

“Come now, Violet.” The man actually had the nerve to sound indignant. “I should be given some credit. I did marry you and in doing so saved you from ruin. One might say I rescued you.”

“After it was you who put me in an untenable situation in the first place.” She ignored the fact that she had kissed him back with all the enthusiasm of unrequited love. “And destroyed my life in the process.”

“Not deliberately,” James said as if that made a difference. “That was never my intention.”

“I’ll arrange an appointment with my solicitor.” Lord Ellsworth smiled at his new niece. “I know it’s difficult at the moment, but regardless of where your travels take you, I do hope you will consider Ellsworth House your home.”

She forced a smile. “Thank you, my lord.” She turned her attention back to James. Resolve hardened her voice. “As for you, I never want to see you again.”

“There will be occasions—”

“Never!” She fairly spat the word, ignoring the pain squeezing her heart. Apparently, this was what true heartbreak felt like. No doubt made worse by the hope that last night... She thrust the thought aside. “I’m quite serious, James. Never.”

He stared, a stunned look on his handsome face. As if only now did he realize the consequences of what he’d done, of how he’d crushed her hopes and her heart. “Very well, never.”

“Now, if you will excuse me.” Violet nodded and headed toward the door. It was all she should do to keep her pace calm and sedate when what she truly wanted was to flee and then weep. Possibly forever.

“That appears resolved,” his lordship said behind her. “I must say, I’m rather disappointed.”

Tears blurred her eyes and she started toward her rooms. This was not the future she’d envisioned yesterday when she’d said vows that apparently only she really meant.

“It’s for the best, uncle.” James’s voice trailed after her.

Maybe in that at least, James was right.

PART ONE

London

CHAPTER ONE
Nearly six years later...

“HAVE I TOLD you how fortunate I am to be dancing with the loveliest woman here?” Lord Westmont said in his most charming manner. A manner designed to persuade whatever lady he was speaking to that he had never said those words—or words at all like them—to any other woman.

“Why no, my lord, I don’t believe you have.” Violet Branham followed his lead flawlessly. Westmont was an excellent dancer but then so was she. She flashed him a knowing smile. “At least not tonight. Although you might have mentioned it last year when we danced together at this very ball. And I believe the year before that, as well.”

His eyes widened in surprise. Poor Evan never would have expected a woman—a mere woman no doubt—to be so horribly honest. It was not how the game was played. But then Violet was tired of playing games by other people’s rules.

A stunned moment later, he laughed. “Lady Ellsworth, you are as outspoken as ever. I don’t know why I didn’t notice how truly delightful you are years ago.”

“Years ago, I wasn’t particularly delightful. But you don’t recall meeting me years ago, do you?”

The most charming look of panic crossed his face.

“Goodness, Evan, we met some nine years ago during my first season and again during my second and third seasons, as well. You simply weren’t, oh, aware of me, I would say.”

He frowned. “That’s a dreadful accusation.”

“My apologies.” She widened her eyes in an innocent manner. “Was I supposed to be kind?”

“I’m beginning to suspect I don’t deserve kindness,” he said slowly.

“Not in that respect. It was indeed a dreadful thing to do, you know. At least it seemed so at the time.” She shrugged. “Although you were not alone in your complete lack of acknowledgment of my very existence.”

He winced. “My apologies, Violet. All I can say in my defense is that I was much younger, rather full of myself and somewhat stupid. Well, extremely stupid.” He paused. “You may object, should you feel the need.”

“Oh, no, please continue.”

It was rather fun, making Evan pay, as it were, for the rudeness of his youth. There was a time when she never would have thrown his vile behavior back in his face. But she was not the same girl he had ignored all those years ago. It wasn’t so much that she had blossomed as she had simply come into her own, aged like a fine wine. When she had first come out in society, she had been one of those vast numbers of girls who were not so pretty as to catch the eye of every available gentleman, but not so dull as to be considered a true wallflower. Admittedly, that changed with every passing season as her prospects for marriage grew dimmer. There was hope for Violet, her mother had often said, if only Violet would pay more attention to her appearance and at least pretend to enjoy flirtatious chatter and social occasions even if she thought such things inane. No, much to Mother’s annoyance, Violet preferred her own company and the solitude to write bad poetry or read Lord Byron’s works or ride alone. No wonder men like Lord Westmont tended to overlook her.

Those days were past. Years of travel abroad, meeting fascinating people and having assorted adventures had polished her. Provided her with the kind of confidence one could only acquire from living life. And she knew it. She was not the girl she used to be. Nearly six years of a separated marriage was enough to change anyone. As well as force them to grow up and discard silly thoughts of love and romance and other such nonsense.

“And I was rather shallow as well it appears.” Genuine regret shone in his eyes. Perhaps she wasn’t the only one who had changed. “Once again, my apologies for my thoughtless behavior. But tonight, I do think you are the loveliest, as well as most interesting, woman in the room.”

“And tonight, my lord,” she said, and smiled up at him, “I will believe you.”

“Am I forgiven then?”

“Perhaps.”

He laughed then sobered. “Why don’t you come back to England more often? Allow me to make up for the past.”

“I am considering it.”

He gazed into her eyes and smiled. “Good.”

She returned his smile but was not so foolish as to believe his words. Evan was an outrageous flirt and Violet had no intention of becoming any man’s conquest.

In spite of any number of admittedly silly concerns, it was good to be back in London. It was always good to come home. Although the house in Mayfair she resided in when she was in the city was scarcely home. But as it was her husband’s house, it was hers, as well. She refused to stay with her parents. Returning to the house of her girlhood would be an admission that her marriage was a dreadful failure. It was true, of course, and everyone in London knew it, but she had no desire to listen to her mother tell her exactly what she had done wrong.

Violet knew all too well that she had allowed a bit of foolish girlhood longing and a remarkable kiss to sweep aside all reason, overcoming good sense and any sort of primal instinct of self-preservation.

The music faded. She stepped out of Evan’s arms, and he escorted her off the dance floor.

“In spite of your painful candor—” Evan raised her hand to his lips “—I would very much like to call on you. I would be honored if you would allow me the opportunity to make amends for my past stupidity.” He grinned. “I do so like a challenge.”

“You do realize I’m a married woman.”

He gasped in an overly dramatic manner. She doubted if anyone in London was not aware of her sham of a marriage. How she and James had married and then gone their separate ways. It was a long time ago but society had a very long memory. “Violet, you misunderstand. I only wish to further our friendship.”

“You are no more than a breath away from becoming a true cad, aren’t you, Evan?”

He grinned, then caught sight of something over her shoulder and froze like a frightened bunny. And she knew.

“Lord Westmont,” the voice that shouldn’t be at all familiar and yet was recognized somewhere in the vicinity of her soul, sounded behind her. Her heart clenched.

“Ellsworth,” Evan said with far more composure than she would have thought he had a moment ago.

Violet summoned the most awful sense of determination. She had anticipated this moment, planned for it ever since she had finally accepted he had absolutely no interest in her whatsoever. She turned and smiled politely, ignoring the hitch in her throat. He had always been the handsomest man in the room with his dark hair and deep blue eyes. No doubt if she’d stayed with him, he would have broken her heart. Again. The man didn’t have a faithful bone in his body. “Lord Ellsworth.”

His gaze bore into hers. She refused to flinch.

“Lady Ellsworth.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips, his gaze never faltering from hers. If she were a fanciful sort, she would have thought a hush fell over the entire ballroom, all eyes on the estranged Lord and Lady Ellsworth. Once, the very thought would have terrified her. Now, she didn’t care. “Never is a very long time.”

“Apparently, not long enough.”

The look in his eyes was an interesting mix of caution, curiosity and challenge. But then they hadn’t seen each other face-to-face in close to six years. God knew what her eyes were saying to him. “I believe this is our dance.”

“Is it?” She tilted her head. He appeared exactly as she remembered. His shoulders were as broad, his gaze as endless, his hair as thick and dark and just the tiniest bit disarrayed—as if it was the last stronghold of the rebellious nature of his youth.

Oh, certainly, over the years she’d seen him on occasion from the window of her room as he was leaving the London house, scampering off to the country or wherever he went so as to avoid her during her visits home, thus keeping a promise he’d made long ago. But this was the closest they’d been to each other since the day after their wedding. On further consideration, he wasn’t entirely unchanged. There were a few creases around the corners of his eyes but beyond that, something had shifted, matured perhaps. The look in his eye had once been carefree and flirtatious and brimming with ill-concealed amusement. Now it was direct, firm, compelling. His lighthearted manner six years ago was that of a young man with no particular cares or responsibilities. The air of assurance and confidence about him now was that of a man who had no doubt of his place in the world. This was no longer the happy-go-lucky young man she been forced to wed when she had just turned twenty-one and he was twenty-four. But then she was not the quiet, pale creature she’d been then, either. “Are you sure you’re not mistaken?”

“Violet,” Evan interrupted. “Do you need my assistance?”

What a surprisingly gallant thing to say. Perhaps she had misjudged him.

“No, Evan, but I do appreciate your offer.” She smiled in polite dismissal then paused. “Although might I request a favor?”

“Anything,” he said with a smile.

“Do you see the young ladies over there?” She nodded toward a group of young women sitting together, desperately trying to appear as if they were having a wonderful time and not counting the minutes until they could flee for the safety of home. “They are no doubt reserved and quiet but are probably quite interesting and very nice. Would you ask at least one of them to dance?”

“I shall do better than that,” Evan said gallantly. “I shall ask my brother and a few of my friends to dance with them, as well.”

She cast him a brilliant smile. “In which case you are most certainly forgiven.”

Evan grinned and took his leave.

Violet turned her attention back to James, who, as of two months ago when dear Uncle Richard had passed on, was now the Earl of Ellsworth. The man who had ruined her life. Her husband.

“There are any number of things I may be mistaken about. Nonetheless, this is our dance.” James leaned in and spoke softly. “People are staring.”

She laughed as if he had just said something amusing. “Of course they are, James. We’ve never been seen together in public before. No doubt everyone is expecting we’ll do something they can talk about for days. Now the question is—will we?”

“Shall we disappoint them instead?” He held out his arm. “Dance with me, Violet.”

“There’s nothing I’d rather do.” In truth, there were any number of things she’d rather do including walking on hot coals and being thrown into a lion’s den. There was little difference and little choice. She placed her hand on his arm and allowed him to escort her onto the floor.

Regardless of how often she’d practiced exactly what she’d say when this moment came she couldn’t quite summon the right words. Perhaps because it was deeply unsettling to be in his arms again where she never should have been in the first place.

Six years ago, on the night his engagement was to be announced to her friend Marie Fredericks, he had kissed quiet Violet Hagen on the shadowed terrace—later claiming he’d mistaken her for Marie as they were both red-haired and wearing blue gowns. Although really one was a sky blue and the other a sea foam, and Marie’s hair was more blond than red. Aside from that, Violet was decidedly taller and not as curved as Marie. His friends also admitted they had challenged him to give his fiancée a real kiss—the kind of kiss a man gives the woman he intends to marry—and had directed him to the terrace where they later swore they truly thought Marie was. There was as well far more partaking of spirits than was perhaps wise. Unfortunately, in their zeal to witness this real kiss, they tangled in the draperies covering the windows overlooking the terrace, ripping them down in the process and directing the attention of everyone in the room to the real kiss currently in progress right outside.

It wasn’t bad enough that he had kissed her but that she had kissed him back with a shocking amount of enthusiasm for a girl who had scarcely been kissed at all up to that point. And really did the hesitant brush of lips she’d experienced previously with two cautious young men even count as legitimate kisses? Admittedly, Violet had thought them rather thrilling until James had kissed her. She’d been shocked when he’d swept her into his arms. Then, with no more than a moment of hesitation, she had wrapped her arms around him, thinking surely he had realized Marie was the wrong match for him and Violet was so very right. When their lips met and his body pressed against hers, she’d discovered a passion she’d never imagined. It was a real kiss, or at least she had thought it was. She didn’t question the why of it. Stupid, as it turned out. She had no idea he had mistaken her for Marie until he raised his head and realized what he’d done. And that was the first crack of her heart.