Chapter One
April 1818, Armstrong Estate
Elizabeth
A tortoiseshell butterfly alighted from a leaf just above Elizabeth, halting her march to the main stables. It fluttered down, landing on a flower bud within touching distance. They usually appeared during the first warm spring days, but it was now April, and it was the first one she had seen. Perhaps it had to do with her brother ordering the removal of many flowers and planting hedges instead because they were apparently more aesthetically pleasing. It was the first time the estate had appeared more ‘sterile’ than its traditional cheerful self, and Elizabeth hated it. James had done it while she was away on horse business, angering her further as he was supposed to accompany her but, at the last minute, chose to stay at home.
Elizabeth lowered her head and shoulders. It was no use growing so tense. The horses would sense her discontent and grow uneasy, looking for the source of potential danger. Being so close with her horses meant they could pick up the slightest mood changes, affecting their daily training. Nothing was allowed to get in the way of that, so she shook off her irritation and continued to the stables, steering clear of the butterfly sucking nectar from the only flower blooming in the area. The rest were still tight buds full of potential. Elizabeth was glad the flowers she had planted after her brother butchered the garden were doing well, and she was eager to see the rest bloom, adding much-needed color to the estate.
“Good morning, Miss Armstrong,” the estate’s steward greeted, drawing her attention.
“Morning, Benson,” she replied. “Have you done your morning rounds already?”
The steward nodded. “I’m almost done. I just have to speak to the tenants, but I’ll do that after breakfast. Are you on your way to the stables?”
“I thought I’d get in a bit of work before breakfast,” she said. “I need to speak with Morris about the schedule for this week. I’d like to change a few things to optimize the time we have left.”
“You speak of the village summer fair,” said Benson.
“Indeed. It’s drawing upon us much sooner than I anticipated. Is it just me, or are our days and nights much shorter than usual?”
Benson chuckled. “I think they’re the same, but expecting something sometimes makes time seem like it’s moving faster.”
“I suppose it does,” she agreed. “Please excuse me, Benson. The sooner I speak to Morris, the better.”
“Of course, Miss Armstrong,” he replied, smiling.
Elizabeth returned his smile, glad he no longer made her heart flutter. Two years ago, she developed feelings for him and would blush whenever she was around him. She eventually understood it was her reaction to him being so kind after her father died. Benson had been a great comfort in offering the words she needed to hear, and her silly heart turned his kindness into a love story in her mind. Little did her eighteen-year-old self know that he was courting one of their tenants’ daughters. Lucy Kinsey was loved by every man for miles around for her big blue eyes, pale hair, and generous figure. Elizabeth couldn’t have competed even if she wanted to with her average dark brown eyes, chestnut hair, and fair skin that burned at the hint of sunlight. She was also sadly lacking in the asset area, but her mother always told her that having less meant that the aging process would not take its toll on her and pull everything down south. In her mother’s world, there was a silver lining to everything. Elizabeth appreciated her mother’s cheerful disposition, even when it was more frustrating than comforting.
“Good morning, Miss Armstrong,” a stablehand greeted.
“Morning, Jimmy,” she replied. “Do you know where Mr. Morris is?”
“He’s with Cinnamon, miss,” Jimmy replied. “He was looking a little under the weather last night, so Mr. Morris wanted to ensure he was better.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “I wasn’t aware there was a problem.”
The stablemaster knew well enough to inform her of any changes with the horses, especially their finest. Cinnamon and four other horses would be the front runners for the upcoming summer fair, so he had to be in good shape. The fair was crucial for their reputation as elite horse breeders. Elizabeth had already promised five of their best thoroughbreds for a private sale and a few weanlings and yearlings for public auction. Only a select few potential buyers would be singled out to participate in the private sale to purchase her two-year-olds for horse racing as they would fetch a much higher price than the younger horses. Cinnamon, Victory, Bolt, Nebus, and Soot had already proven their speed, and they were quick to train and take commands, so Elizabeth expected to come away from the fair with a sizable chunk of earnings.
“Cinnamon is just fine, Miss Armstrong,” said Mr. Morris, approaching them. “I did go to the main house in the evening, but I spoke to Mr. Armstrong as he had just returned home when I entered the house. He assured me he would inform you.”
Elizabeth looked skyward. Her older brother was as reliable as a soft slipper on a rainy day. It galled her that many people still believed he was the driving force behind their horse-breeding business, when in fact, he barely knew the daily running of the stables and what it took to maintain their reputation. James was quick to handle the finances and take credit for the business’s success, but Elizabeth let it be to maintain peace. Her father wouldn’t want them to bicker about a business he spent most of his life growing, earning a reputation as one of the best horse breeders in England. If she didn’t enjoy her work so much, she doubted she would be able to put up with the challenges, setbacks, and competition.
“What was wrong with Cinnamon?” she asked.
“He wasn’t eating as he usually does,” the stablemaster explained. “However, his appetite has returned, and he even tried to steal Abigail’s apple this morning.”
Elizabeth smiled, relief flooding her. “That certainly sounds like something Cinnamon would do. Why don’t we make our way to the stables? I want to discuss a few things with you concerning the summer fair and the horses.”
“Of course, miss,” Morris said, turning toward the stables.
He hesitated, waiting for her to fall in step beside him. Jimmy followed behind, his brow furrowed in concentration as he listened to the conversation.
“I’d like you to pay a little more attention to our two-year-olds,” she said. “They’re going to fetch a hefty sum at the private sale. Our yearlings and weanlings will also do well, but the older and more well-trained they are, the higher the price.”
“I can assign two of our best stablehands to primarily take care of them, miss,” Morris suggested. “They’ll also be in charge of them at the fair.”
“Yes, Jimmy and someone else,” Elizabeth agreed.
She could almost feel Jimmy beam with happiness. This would be his first summer fair, but he had proven himself over the last year and deserved to be given the chance.”
“Jimmy and Davidson,” Morris said. “Davidson has been to several fairs, so he can guide Jimmy where necessary.”
Elizabeth nodded. “It’s always good to mix experience with new eyes. Davidson’s experience will ensure the others don’t try to fool Jimmy. I know how competitive the other stablehands can be, even sabotaging those working for other breeders.”
An incident once occurred when a stablehand sabotaged one of the horse breeders by poisoning some of their horses. A fellow horse breeder had orchestrated the situation, using his stablehand to fool the others into a sense of trust. The horse breeder was punished, but nothing could bring back the poisoned horses. Although Elizabeth bred horses to sell them, she gave a piece of her heart to all of them. To helplessly watch one die would cause her immense emotional pain.
“We can increase their massages—this lot seem to enjoy them,” said Morris.
“They certainly do!” Jimmy exclaimed. “Nebus and Bolt refuse to settle for the night unless someone has massaged their limbs. Who knew animals liked to be pampered like humans?”
“Have you forgotten the mistress’ dog and cat in the house?” Morris asked. “Darling and Lord Busby are the most loved pets I’ve ever encountered.”
Elizabeth laughed. “My mother certainly dotes on them like her own children,” she said. “All animals want affection, even our horses. They may not be with us for very long, but giving them a good life is imperative. Which is why I reserve the right to refuse a buyer if I feel the need.”
She had done so on many occasions and would continue to do so for the sake of the horses. Elizabeth would never forgive herself for giving a beloved horse to a hard taskmaster who would only abuse his property simply because he could. They were the worst sort, and she had fought with a few on many occasions. Of course, it didn’t help her image as an eligible woman, but she had partially given up on the idea of marriage. Better she focus on the family business and let her brother continue the family lineage through his offspring.
“We will not be refusing any buyers this time,” her brother said, startling them.
Elizabeth looked skyward. It was just like her brother to step in when he pleased and throw his weight around.
Everyone turned to James, watching him pick his way across the stable floor. It was relatively clean as the stablehands had already removed droppings, loose straw, and whatever else quickly accumulated on the stable floors. However, one would think the floors were filthy and disgusting from the way his upper lip was curled. James was clearly not at ease in a stable and never had been. Still, their father had given him the same opportunity to know the business inside out, hoping his eldest and only son would grow to love it as much as he did. It was too bad that James never put in the effort, preferring gambling halls, cigars, and the finest brandy to earthy smells and horse chatter.
“I beg your pardon?” Elizabeth asked.
“We will not be refusing any buyers,” her brother repeated. “We are going to accept the highest bidder, no matter who they might be. We’re selling horses to make money, not find them good homes.”
Elizabeth ran her tongue over her teeth, giving her the needed time to calm her temper. It was the one trait she had been unable to get rid of no matter how hard she tried, but she could control it by giving herself time to think.
“Taking care of our horses was the very first thing Papa taught us,” Elizabeth pointed out. “Part of what makes us such good horse breeders is our love for them. Take that away, and we would be no better than the lowliest horse breeder.”
James smacked his tongue against his palate before taking out a little snuff box and snorting a bit up his nose. Elizabeth grimaced. She could never understand how a person could stand to inhale anything up their nose. She was far too sensitive and gagged on any foreign substances.
“I’m the one managing the business, sister dear,” said James. “I understand that Father preferred to treat the horses like his children, but that is hardly good business practice.”
“Horses are our business,” Elizabeth countered. “Treating our horses well is what makes them the best. Why do you think they fetch such princely sums? We are never without buyers because they can trust us to have only the finest thoroughbreds.”
“We will continue to be the best,” said James. “That doesn’t change. However, we will not refuse good buyers simply because they do not fit into your standards.”
“They do not fit our image,” Elizabeth argued.
“This is not an argument, Elizabeth,” her brother said. “I have said what I said. Now, come inside for breakfast. Mother was asking about you.”
Elizabeth bit her tongue. It would be so easy to bicker with him, but it never got them anywhere. She would just have to deal with this another way. It was really a terrible thing that neither of them inherited their mother’s sweet disposition. Instead, they had their father’s fiery temper, which had been known to start and end fights within minutes.
“I have something important to discuss with you,” said James as they neared the main house.
“Indeed?”
He rarely had something to discuss with her or their mother. James didn’t spend much time with them, but Elizabeth gathered it had to be the same for everyone with an older brother.
“Yes, but I’ll tell you once we’re all seated in the drawing room,” her brother replied. “I do not wish to say it twice.”
“Yes, because saying it twice takes too much time,” she said dryly.
“Does your tongue never cease its need to speak before you think?”
“I suppose not,” she replied, tongue in cheek. “My tongue prefers to say whatever is on my mind instead of hiding what I think.”
“You are far too young to be so outspoken,” her brother grumbled.
“I thought you were going to say women cannot be so outspoken,” she said. “Which would have been worse, so I commend you for that.”
“What I meant was that you’re too young, and women shouldn’t be outspoken,” he corrected.
Elizabeth gave an outright laugh. “I should have known, but I gave you the benefit of the doubt. How silly of me.”
James briefly glanced at her, disapproval darkening his countenance. “Curb your tongue, sister dear. How are you expected to please a potential husband if you cannot control yourself?”
“I am not in the market for a potential husband, James,” she told him. “I’m a horse breeder. What use have I of a husband?”
“That is not the point of getting married. A wife is to be of use to her husband, not the other way around.”
“And what will the husband do?”
“Does it matter?” her brother asked. “As long as you have his last name, take care of the household, and bear him children, you do not need to worry about anything else.”
Elizabeth grimaced. “It seems like an unfair exchange.”
“It’s the way it has always been, and you would do well to accept it like many women before you,” he said. “Mother did it—who are you to question it?”
“Just because something has been done for a long time does not make it right,” she pointed out.
“Just stop, Elizabeth!” her brother bellowed.
Pursing her lips, Elizabeth flared her nostrils once and walked in front of her brother, entering the house first. She loathed how he believed yelling at her was a good way to settle an argument. It was childish, tyrannical, and not at all mature as he likely assumed.
Stalking into the foyer, she almost didn’t see her mother arranging a large vase of flowers on a French oak console table.
“Dear,” her mother called.
“Morning, Mama,” Elizabeth greeted, approaching her to kiss her on the cheek. “You look lovely today.”
She truly did. Adelaide Armstrong was a timeless beauty who looked better as she aged. Her smooth skin, dark hair, and kind eyes were praised everywhere she went, making Elizabeth a proud daughter.
“Thank you, dear,” her mother agreed. “You look pretty as well. I love this deep green color on you. I wish you would let your hair down more often. It’s very becoming when framing your delightful little face.”
“I have no time to look pretty, Mama,” said Elizabeth. “I have horses to mind. The summer fair is almost upon us.”
“Oh, I know, dear,” her mother replied. “However, it wouldn’t be so terrible to accentuate what the good Lord blessed you with. Such lovely dark eyes and the longest lashes I have ever seen. You remind me so much of your father.”
“Not exactly something a girl likes to hear,” she said. “Father wasn’t pretty.”
“But he had beautiful, deep, and intriguing eyes that held all the mysteries of the world,” her mother told her. “I would get lost in them whenever I looked into his eyes.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Should I ever decide to marry, I hope to find a love as great as the one you and Papa shared.”
“That might happen sooner than you think,” James said, entering the house.
“I think perhaps you should find Mama a daughter-in-law and give her grandchildren,” said Elizabeth. “The Lord knows she doesn’t need another son.”
“I do not know what you mean by that,” said James.
“I’m not surprised,” said Elizabeth, taking her mother’s arm and steering her toward the dining room. “Time for breakfast, Mama. Your son apparently has news to share.”
Her mother sighed. “You’re both bickering again,” she said. “I wish you would stop that and behave like loving siblings.”
“We haven’t killed each other yet, Mama,” Elizabeth told her. “I’d say we’re doing well enough. Do not tempt fate by looking for better.”
“I agree, Mother,” said James. “Your daughter is not the natural sort.”
Elizabeth snorted at the comment as her mother shook her head. They went down the hallway and entered the sunny room without another word, settling into their chairs and tucking into a simple breakfast of cake, toast, and tea.
“I have something to say,” James announced.
“What is it, dear?” their mother asked.
“Do you recall my friend, Sir Richard Bracken?” he asked.
“I would use that term ‘friend’ loosely,” Elizabeth muttered as she tore a piece of toast with her fingers.
Richard Bracken was not the kind of man anyone could easily call a friend because he always sought his own ends. He was self-centered and sly and always had been. Elizabeth recalled how he tried to get a horse at a fraction of the price while her father was still alive or how he tried to involve himself in the business so he could meet with buyers and create his own horse breeding business. The man was as crooked as they came.
“Yes, I remember Sir Richard Bracken, dear,” their mother said. “I haven’t seen him for a while. How is he?”
“He’s well,” said James. “I ran into him and Andrew Miller the other day and invited them to join us for dinner soon. I’ll send a formal invitation once you give me a suitable day.”
Elizabeth inwardly groaned. She didn’t understand why people offered dinner after meeting an acquaintance. They should greet each other, exchange brief niceties, and be on their way.
“How is Mr. Miller?” her mother asked. “I heard his mother was quite ill recently.”
“I believe Mrs. Miller has recovered,” said James. “Well, Sir Richard and I spoke quite a bit, and he expressed some interest in investing in our business.”
Elizabeth’s belly dropped. “What did you say to him?”
“I’m considering it,” James told them. “He’s a good man with stables finances, so I see no reason not to consider his request. However, that wasn’t the most interesting bit of the conversation. Sir Richard has expressed an interest in Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth coughed, splattering tea all over her plate and the table. “I beg your pardon? He said what?”
“You heard me, sister dear,” said James. “I think it’s a wonderful idea. Sir Richard is a good man who will be able to provide for you.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I think not. Not even Papa liked or trusted Sir Richard. He was simply polite to him because he was never rude to anyone. Do you not recall when Sir Richard first asked to be part of the business? Papa refused him.”
“That was then, and this is now,” James replied. “I believe in Sir Richard’s capability to be a good investor and husband. You’re now twenty-one—the perfect age for marriage. You’ve been out in society for three years, after all. People will start wondering why you’re still unmarried. It’s my duty as your brother to find you a good husband and help you settle down.”
“I understand your shock, dear,” her mother said to her. “I also believe your brother has your best interests at heart. Perhaps Sir Richard isn’t the man you used to know. You could possibly give him a chance to prove he has changed. Everyone changes, dear, and everyone deserves a second chance.”
“Not everyone changes for the better,” Elizabeth pointed out.
“I knew you would argue about this,” said James, spreading strawberry preserves on his toast a little more strongly than needed.
“Well, let’s not argue any further,” their mother said, always the peacemaker. “I have some news of my own to share. I invited the next Lord Ashford and Miss Ashby to dinner.”
“You did what?” James cried, dropping his toast. “You invited our rivals to dinner?”
“We have always been civil with the Ashbys, dear,” their mother reminded him. “Now that the old Lord Ashford has passed on and a new one has taken his place, it’s only right to extend a hand of friendship to the new baron. They are our neighbors, after all.”
“And our competitors,” said James. “We might as well give them our business.”
Their mother laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous, dear.”
“Mama is right, James,” said Elizabeth. “The Ashbys may be our rivals, but we need to maintain Papa’s standards. A civil relationship is key to not allowing competition to reduce us to people only concerned about money.”
“We are,” James argued. “We are concerned about money.”
“Oh, James,” their mother said with a sigh. “There is no point arguing about this. I have invited them, and they are coming—end of discussion. Now, pass me the strawberry preserves, and let’s have a lovely breakfast as a family, yes?”
Although her voice was light, it was firm and didn’t allow for further argument. Elizabeth was happy enough, although her brother appeared to be simmering. She felt some satisfaction because he had thrown the Sir Richard situation in her lap. There was no way she would agree to even consider him as a potential husband—she’d rather drink curdled milk. No, if Elizabeth ever married, she would have to be in love, or it was a waste of time. She had no patience for anything that wasn’t done for the right reasons, even in marriage. The problem was that she didn’t know if she believed love would come to her.
“The Baron’s Tender Affection” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!
In Elizabeth Armstrong’s peculiar world, where horses’ thundering hooves blend with her soulful poetry, love unexpectedly blooms. A rebellious spirit, she defies societal norms, guiding her family’s horse-breeding legacy with her brother. Her world shifts though when two suitors arrive: the persistent Sir Richard and the mysterious Lord Ashford. Her rebellious heart leans toward the latter, despite her brother’s disapproval.
Is this mystery gentleman worth the risk of disregarding her brother?
Baron Samuel Ashby, entrusted with his cousin’s legacy, finds his heart racing anew as he delves into the world of horse breeding. Despite the many trials, he is spellbound by the brilliance, grace, and compassion of his rival, Elizabeth Armstrong. Envy simmers though when she charms Sir Richard, a man Samuel doubts. Yet, beneath his jealousy lies the ache of a wounded heart. When scandal casts its shadow upon this story though, Samuel must make a decision…
Should he cling to old sorrows or embrace the chance at a future filled with love and joy, with Elizabeth by his side?
Elizabeth and Samuel never sought love, yet fate brought them together. Despite trying to resist their instincts, they cannot deny their destined connection. Their path isn’t easy though; empty pockets, mounting debts, schemes, and desperation challenge their happiness. Will their love prove stronger than their predestined path? Or will their love succumb to fate’s obstacles?
“The Baron’s Tender Affection” is a historical romance novel of approximately 90,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.
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