The Heiress in Disguise (Preview)

Prologue

“Angelique, do stay away from the river!”

Eight-year-old Angelique longed to ignore the admonition of her governess. Molly was kind and fair and Angelique liked her very much, but she could also be insufferably dull at times, and Angelique did not enjoy that about her. She was eight years old now, after all, and she didn’t need a governess watching over her every move. She had been to the river countless times. There were no dangers here that she wasn’t equal to. 

“My parents allow me to play by the river,” she said.

“Your parents aren’t at home,” Molly pointed out.

“But they’ll return home from their travels later today, and you can ask them then,” Angelique said. “They’ll tell you it’s all right for me to play by the water as long as I’m not on my own. You’ll see. They don’t mind at all.”

“You’re going to get muddy.”

“Nobody minds that either,” Angelique said with a laugh. “Father says children are supposed to get muddy from time to time!”

Molly sighed. “I suppose he has the right to say it,” she said. “But I hope for both of our sakes that you’re right, Angelique, because I would hate for your parents to get home and see you covered in mud and be unhappy about it.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Angelique assured her. “They’ll be nothing but pleased to see me, Molly. Mother and Father dote upon me, you know that. They’re going to bring me a present from their travels! Father promised that they would.”

“Perhaps that’s them now,” Molly said, turning toward the sound of a carriage coming up the path toward the front of the estate.

“Oh!” Angelique turned, the river utterly forgotten. “They weren’t supposed to arrive home until this evening! They’re early! They must have been so eager to see me that they hastened their journey home.”

“Perhaps,” Molly agreed.

But Angelique frowned. She could see now who was disembarking from the carriage, and it wasn’t her mother and father. Instead, she was looking at her least favorite aunt, her father’s younger sister. Aunt Wilhelmina had dark hair and a stern expression that never seemed to waver, no matter what was going on around her. She was followed out of the carriage, by her husband, Uncle Clive, and by Angelique’s three cousins, Marcus, Gwyneth, and Grace. Both of the elder cousins were stuck-up, and Angelique found them difficult to get along with, so she took a small measure of satisfaction in seeing that they were staring up at the house with something like awe. They had been here countless times, of course, and they always managed to act as if it didn’t impress them very much to be in the home of the Marquess of Somerset. They tended to act as if it was all beneath them. But Angelique knew that what she was seeing right now was their true response, saved for a moment when they didn’t know she could see them.

“Perhaps they don’t realize that Mother and Father aren’t at home,” she said to Molly.

“We ought to go inform them,” Molly said. “Come along, Angelique.”

Angelique wished that she could stay by the river—she had no desire to socialize with her cousins—but she knew that would be a losing battle. There was no chance of Molly allowing her to stay here on her own. She trotted back toward the house alongside her governess.

“Well, this is hardly appropriate,” Aunt Wilhelmina said as they approached. “Just look at you, Angelique. Your gown is filthy,” she tutted.

Angelique looked down at the gown she wore. She saw no filth. She hadn’t even gone all the way down to the water, so she hadn’t gotten mud on her gown. She had no idea what Aunt Wilhelmina was referring to. But then, it was very like her aunt to find fault in something about Angelique. She had always seemed determined to prove that her own children were more satisfactory than Angelique was—especially Gwyneth, who was also eight years old. 

“You’d better come inside,” Aunt Wilhelmina said. “We have some things to discuss, Angelique.”

“My parents aren’t home from their travels yet,” Angelique said. “Perhaps we should wait until they return.” She didn’t want to end her day on the grounds just yet, and she was sure that if she went inside, Aunt Wilhelmina wouldn’t allow her to come back out.

“Your parents won’t be coming home,” Aunt Wilhelmina said briskly. “There was an accident, dear.”

“You’re not going to tell her like that, Wilhelmina, are you?” That was Uncle Clive, speaking up for the first time. He was a quiet man, usually content to allow his wife to do the talking for the both of them in social situations. Angelique couldn’t say why it disturbed her so that he had chosen this moment to speak, but she knew that it did.

“What do you mean?” she asked, feeling suddenly chilled, although the weather hadn’t changed. “Of course my parents will come home. They’ll always come back to me.”

“I’m afraid not, dear,” Aunt Wilhelmina said. “We’ve just received word that they were killed in a carriage accident on the way home.”

Angelique felt the world spin slowly around her. She sank to her knees. 

“I’m so sorry, Angelique,” Uncle Clive said quietly.

No. They were wrong. There had been a mistake. This was a nightmare. Something. It couldn’t be true that her parents had been killed. They couldn’t be gone, just like that.

They promised they would always come back to me.

 

“Bring our things inside, please,” Aunt Wilhelmina directed the footmen. “We’ll be staying here now—someone has to raise young Angelique.”

“Don’t worry,” Uncle Clive said, resting a hand briefly on the top of her head. “We’ll be here for you.”

But Angelique couldn’t even think.

She knelt on the ground, watching in shock as the footmen carried her aunt and uncle’s things into the house.

Mother, Father… where are you?

 

***

 

Time seemed to pass in a fog. At some point, Angelique realized that she was inside, though she wasn’t sure if someone had brought her in or if she had come on her own. She was in the sitting room, which was sometimes full of people and sometimes empty. People spoke to her, but she didn’t answer them, and eventually they all went away.

Aunt Wilhelmina and her family, on the other hand, did not go away. Angelique had hoped, at first, that she had misunderstood their intentions and that they didn’t really mean to stay, but it was clear now that they weren’t going anywhere. Aunt Wilhelmina and Uncle Clive had moved into her parents’ rooms, and Marcus, Gwyneth, and Grace had taken rooms of their own. Angelique hadn’t left the sitting room in what must have been days, so she wasn’t sure which rooms they were in, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that they were in the house. She ached for them to leave, but it seemed there was no chance of that happening.

At least for now she had the sitting room to herself. Someone had lit a fire and she sat watching it burn, wishing that she could simply do this for the rest of her days—that she would never be called upon to move from this spot or to speak to anyone again.

“I’m so sorry, Angelique.”

The voice was familiar, and for the first time since all this had happened, it wasn’t the voice of someone unwelcome to her. It was enough to lift her out of the fog of her shocked grief, and she looked up at the familiar face. “Antoine.”

It was so strange to see her eleven-year-old neighbor now, in the midst of all this. She had always admired him, but their relationship had been more like that of a brother and a sister. Ordinarily, though, the sight of him would have set butterflies off in the pit of her stomach. Right now, all she could feel was a quiet sense of comfort—at least someone she liked was here.

He sat down beside her. “They say you haven’t moved from this spot,” he said softly. “They say you’ve had nothing to eat.”

“Who says?”

“The staff,” he said. He held out a sandwich. “Would you eat this?”

She took it and bit into it mechanically. It tasted like sawdust, but she knew he was right—she did need to eat. She chewed the sandwich slowly. “I thought perhaps my aunt and uncle might have been the ones to tell you I hadn’t eaten,” she said.

He frowned. “Yes, I would have expected that too,” he said. “I suppose they’re so caught up in their grief that they aren’t noticing things properly.”

“I think they’re more caught up in the fact that they’ve finally been able to move into Somerset Manor,” Angelique said darkly. “Aunt Wilhelmina has always wanted this house. I’ll bet she was thrilled when she heard my mother and father had died.”

“Oh, Angelique,” Antoine said sadly, but he didn’t argue with her, and Angelique supposed he thought she was right and simply didn’t wish to say so.

“Have you seen them?” she asked Antoine.

“Yes,” he said. “My parents are with them now, but I was given permission to come and talk to you. I thought perhaps you could use a friend right now.”

“I don’t have anyone,” Angelique whispered.

“You do,” he corrected her. “You’ll always have me. I know this is awful, Angelique, and I’m so sorry that it’s happening, but I’ll be here for you. My whole family will be here for you. You know that your parents and mine were always good friends.”

“I wish that I could come and live with your family, instead of being cared for by my aunt and uncle,” Angelique said wistfully. “I would be so much happier there. It would be almost like…”

She trailed off. What she’d been thinking was that it would be almost like having her own parents back. But she couldn’t speak the words, because that would be an acknowledgement that they were really gone. It would be the first time she’d said it aloud, and she couldn’t help feeling as though speaking the words would make it real, somehow. As long as she didn’t say it, there was a chance it wasn’t true.

Antoine seemed to understand without her having to say it. “I know,” he said. “I know that would be better for you, and I wish it was something we could do. But they are your family, Angelique. They care for you a great deal.”

Angelique didn’t think so, somehow, but she didn’t want to argue with him, so she said nothing.

“Just know that we’ll be here for you,” Antoine assured her. “You’re like family to us. My parents will always care for you, and so will I. You’re not alone. I know it might feel that way right now, but you’re not. And your parents will live on inside you. Every time you look in a looking glass, you’ll see your mother’s face—more and more as you grow older and look more like her. And every time you laugh, you’ll remember your father’s wonderful sense of humor and how he could always make everyone around him smile.

Tears filled Angelique’s eyes.

She hadn’t cried since she’d heard the news, and it felt good to let the tears out now. It was a release. She buried her face in her hands and wept for everything she had lost. 

Her parents were really gone. They were never coming back. From now on, this would be her life. Sharing the house that had once been a home, with the aunt and uncle she so struggled to get along with, and cousins she could hardly tolerate.

And as she cried, Antoine remained steadfastly by her side, loyal and unmoving, a harbor in the sea of her despair.

Chapter One

(Fourteen Years Later)

Angelique struggled up the stairs, balancing a breakfast tray on each arm. This was her second trip—she had brought the first two trays on her first journey up the stairs—and the usual morning anxiety was beginning to set in. It was always a struggle to make sure that everything would be warm when it was delivered to the proper person. Delivering five breakfasts all at once was an onerous task, and because Aunt Wilhelmina had dismissed so many of the staff in order to save money, there was no one available to help Angelique do it.

At least no one would complain if Grace’s food was a bit cold. It made Angelique feel sad to slight her youngest cousin like that—Angelique herself was the only person in the house who was treated with more disdain and disrespect than Grace, and she did feel as if the two of them ought to be allies. If she’d had her choice, she would have delivered Grace’s breakfast first of all of them, to make sure it was the freshest. But the choice did not belong to her. Very few choices did, anymore.

It helped that Uncle Clive was away in London, as he so often was. At least no deliveries had to be made to him. She picked up one of the trays she’d placed on the table in the hall and made her way to Aunt Wilhelmina’s room.

Her aunt was sitting up in bed, waiting to be served. “You took your time,” she said crossly.

“I’m sorry,” Angelique said contritely. She wasn’t late at all, but there was nothing to be gained by arguing. Aunt Wilhelmina took pleasure in scolding Angelique and the happier her aunt was, the more peaceful Angelique’s life would be. It was just good sense to allow her to say what she liked and get away as quickly as she could.

“I ask very little of you, Ella,” Aunt Wilhelmina said, and Angelique flinched inwardly, as she always did, at the unwanted nickname. She knew her aunt had taken to calling her Ella in order to make her sound plain and ordinary, like the servant Aunt Wilhelmina wanted her to be instead of the daughter of a marquess. Aunt Wilhelmina liked to forget that Angelique’s father had had any importance in society at all. It infuriated Angelique, not because she objected to being treated like a servant, although she did, of course, but because it offended her to see her father’s sister reduce his memory to less than it should have been.

But if the past fourteen years had taught her anything, it was that there was no point in arguing. Quiet compliance was the safer and smoother choice, if what she desired was a peaceful life.

Angelique placed the breakfast tray on the bed beside her aunt. Aunt Wilhelmina examined the breakfast.

Angelique held her breath. If she was sent back to the kitchen to correct something, all the other meals would get cold. They would have to start over, and then everyone’s breakfast would be late. She would spend the morning being scolded by various members of her family.

But apparently Aunt Wilhelmina could find no fault with what she had been served. “We’ll be leaving for the city this afternoon,” she said. “You must help make preparations for your cousins, so they’ll be ready to go.”

“Why are we going to the city?” Angelique asked. 

“Your uncle wishes to throw a masquerade ball with a friend of his, and we’ll be attending,” Aunt Wilhelmina said.

Angelique couldn’t help it—she felt a thrill of excitement. Of course she knew that she wouldn’t be permitted to attend the ball, as her aunt would never allow such a thing. But she would still be able to see it. The clever masks, the beautiful ball gowns in all the latest styles, the music, and the dancing—and it would be easy enough to steal away to the kitchen and sneak tastes of the food that was being served as well. Even though she wouldn’t be a guest at the ball, she would find a way to enjoy herself. Not that she could let Aunt Wilhelmina know that. Her aunt hated the idea of Angelique enjoying herself.

“You’ll need to inform your cousins of the departure and help them get their luggage together,” her aunt said. “Make sure everyone has everything they need, yes?”

“Yes, Aunt Wilhelmina.”

“And Ella, do make sure you take a look at what Grace is wearing. I won’t have her dressing in some ugly, oversized frock for this party. She must look her best! Help her select something that will show her off to her best advantage.”

That would be difficult, Angelique thought ruefully as she left her aunt’s room. Poor Grace, the least favored of her cousins… she could be lovely if anyone would help her, but she received no help. Aunt Wilhelmina despised the fact that Grace was a bit plump and refused to purchase clothes that would have flattered her figure, insisting instead on buying things that Grace would only fit into properly if she were to lose some weight. As a result, Grace often looked as if she had been stuffed into a sausage casing. If she’d had something appropriate to wear, she could have looked beautiful for the party, but in the clothes she owned, there was very little chance of it.

Angelique went next to Marcus’s room. She knocked on his door.

“Don’t just stand out there like a fool,” he called. “Bring me my breakfast.”

Angelique took a deep breath before opening the door. I’m lucky, she reminded herself. I have a place to live. I have a roof over my head and three sure meals a day, and for all they can be cruel, I know Aunt Wilhelmina and Uncle Clive will never throw me out on the street. I can handle Marcus’s taunts. 

She went into the room and set his tray on his bedside table. 

Marcus was standing beside the window, but he turned to face her. “You ought to wear something nicer than that old frock, Ella,” he said. “Perhaps mother wouldn’t insist on treating you like a servant if you didn’t insist on dressing like one.”

Angelique said nothing.

“Or, no, that’s right,” Marcus said. “You don’t have any fine clothes, do you?”

She didn’t respond.

“Nothing of your mother’s you could wear? She had such nice things, didn’t she?”

Comments like that would have outraged Angelique in her youth. All of her mother’s things had been taken by Aunt Wilhelmina, and those that didn’t fit had been put aside for, and since given to, Gwyneth. It still galled Angelique to see her cousin walking around in gowns and jewels that had once belonged to Angelique’s mother, but she had long since stopped allowing Marcus to provoke her with his mean-spirited comments.

“I always feel,” she said lightly, “that anyone who has to rely on fine clothes in order to feel happy has a barren soul. Don’t you think so?”

Marcus’ jaw dropped. She could tell that he knew he had been insulted, but she could also see that he wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened to him. She had no intention of clearing the matter up for him. “Enjoy your breakfast,” she said with a smile, and went back out into the hall.

The third breakfast delivery was for Gwyneth. Blonde and slender, she was already sitting in front of the looking glass and admiring her reflection when Angelique entered the room. “Put it over there,” she said, pointing, without looking away from her own face.

Angelique did as she’d been asked. She could concede that her cousin was very pretty, but the amount of self-admiration that Gwyneth indulged in was a little embarrassing. Surely no one could need to spend that much time staring at herself?

“It’s just tea, right?” Gwyneth asked. “There’s no honey or sugar in it, is there?”

“It’s tea with lemon, just as you like it,” Angelique assured her. “And just as I bring it to you every single day.” 

“Are you talking back to me?” Gwyneth asked. “If you are, I’m going to tell Mother, and you’ll be punished.”

“Of course I’m not,” Angelique said, though she had been, a little bit. “I only wanted to reassure you that you could trust me. I prepare your breakfast every day, after all, and don’t I always do it to your liking?”

“It’s more important than ever now,” Gwyneth said. “I hope to marry soon, and that won’t happen if I allow myself to become chubby like my sister. So there is to be no sugar in any tea I am given! I hope that’s clear to you, Ella.”

“Crystal clear,” Angelique said. “Your mother says you’re to pack your things, by the way, since we’ll be leaving for the city tomorrow. Your father is having a masquerade ball with a friend there.”

“Oh!” Gwyneth said. “How exciting! Perhaps I’ll meet a handsome gentleman who’ll wish to marry me. I’m sure that would be lovely for you as well, wouldn’t it, Ella? When I move to my husband’s home, I’ll let Mother know that you ought to have this room again. There’s no reason for you to go on sleeping in the attic once I’m out of the house, and after all, this was your room once.”

“Indeed,” Angelique said. “It’s so considerate of you to think of me.” She took a moment to be grateful for the fact that she had the strength of will to say such things, without actually meaning them. She imagined it must be hard for some servants to remember that they weren’t any less worthy and valuable as people than the people they served. Just because Gwyneth had come in here and taken over this room, forcing Angelique to move to the attic, didn’t mean she was any less worthy of the room that had once belonged to her. She didn’t need her heartless cousin to remind her of that, either. She knew who she was. She was still Angelique, despite fourteen years of her family doing their best to turn her into nothing but Ella.

She left Gwyneth’s room and went on to Grace’s. Her youngest cousin slept at the very end of the hall, and according to her mother, she was also supposed to have nothing but unsweetened tea for her breakfast. But Grace was the one person in the house who was kind to Angelique, and Angelique didn’t like to see her suffer.

“You brought chocolate,” Grace said, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the steaming cup.

“And that’s not all,” Angelique said. She pulled a folded-up napkin out of her pocket.

Grace unwrapped it. “Cookies! Oh, Angelique, you’re the best. Mother would never have allowed me to eat these. I’d have to sit there watching while Marcus and Gwyneth ate them at dinner, and I would have nothing.”

“Just don’t you ever mention that I gave them to you,” Angelique warned. “I don’t need that kind of trouble!”

“No, I won’t tell,” Grace agreed. She held out a cookie. “Would you like to stay and have one with me?”

“That’s so kind,” Angelique said, smiling. “I have to get back down to the kitchen, I’m afraid. There’s a lot of work still to be done today, and I can’t fall behind. 

“I wish you could stay,” Grace said wistfully. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t have anyone I can talk to.”

Angelique knew the feeling. But she also knew that if she allowed her friendship with Grace to grow to meaningful, they would both be punished for it. As much as she did like her youngest cousin, it was best for everyone if they kept their distance.

---

“The Heiress in Disguise” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

Angelique de Bourbon-Spencer has been born in the world of privilege, but her life has been a masquerade of servitude since the tragic demise of her parents. Reduced to a servant’s role in her aunt and uncle’s household, she endures a degrading treatment from her step-siblings. In the shadowy corners of a lavish ballroom in London though, Angelique’s fate takes an unexpected turn when her eyes meet those of a mysterious masked gentleman.

As if things were not complicated enough, Angelique finds herself romantically torn between two different men… How could it be though that they do not feel all that different?

Antoine Beauchamp-Fitzalans, Marquess of Exeter, returns to London after years abroad, only to uncover his childhood friend Angelique’s startling secret life as a servant. Determined to assist her, he disguises himself as a mysterious masked gentleman, moving freely among the gentry, while also posing as a discreet servant from the neighboring estate. To expose her relatives’ transgressions, Antoine must keep his true identity hidden, all the while earning Angelique’s trust in this high-stakes dance of deception and loyalty.

Could this heartfelt aid turn into something much deeper?

As they wade through the challenges caused by their respective disguises and the nefarious actions of Angelique’s relatives, their connection deepens. Their secret and disguised romance stands on a very delicate balance, but can they unravel the web of secrets and emerge victorious against the internal and external shadows that threaten to consume them?

“The Heiress in Disguise” is a historical romance novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

Get your copy from Amazon!