Beaufort Brides: Hired Bride Part 1

Hired Bride.

Beaufort Brides.

Noelle Adams.

One.

Deanna Beaufort's family line could be traced back almost three hundred years.

One of the Beauforts fought against the British in the Siege of Savannah in 1778 and another defended the city against the northerners in 1864. Deanna's grandmother had told her stories about all of the great Beauforts of the past since the time she was three years old. She knew them all by heart. They were as familiar to her as her neighbors.

The old Beaufort house in Savannah had been built in the early nineteenth century and had never been out of the family's possession. When they'd had money, the house was a point of pride. Now, however, it was just a money-pit, and it had been crumbling down around Deanna's head for as long as she could remember.

At the moment, it was the grand staircase that was in danger of collapsing beneath their feet. Deanna and her youngest sister, Kelly, were on their hands and knees, trying to nail down the loose planks before someone tripped on one and cracked open their skull.

"This is ridiculous," Kelly said, pus.h.i.+ng one of her long braids back behind her shoulder and her gla.s.ses back up her nose. "Tacking some wood down isn't going to do any good. The whole staircase needs to be rebuilt."

Deanna sat up, sighing as she looked up at the dilapidated stairs. She used to slide down the bal.u.s.trade when she was a girl, but she wouldn't dare put any weight on it now. She loved the old house, and it hurt her, almost physically, to see it in such bad shape. "I know. But unless you're prepared to do it yourself, then it's not going to get done. It will take us five years to save up enough money to pay for that kind of work."

"I know. If you'd let me get a job, I could-"

"No," Deanna said sharply. "You're finis.h.i.+ng college first. We've had this discussion before."

Their parents died when they were kids, and they'd been raised by their grandmother ever since. The life insurance ran out several years ago, since their grandmother wasn't exactly into frugal living, so money had been tight for a while. Deanna worked as a receptionist in a marketing company-without a college degree that was the best she could do-and their middle sister, Rose, worked as a nanny for a family who was presently summering in London. But the sisters had decided a long time ago that Kelly would get through college, since she was the most academically-minded of the three.

If their grandmother had her wish, all three would be married to wealthy men by now, but so far that hadn't happened. Deanna was twenty-six, and she hadn't had a serious boyfriend in four years. She was pretty sure that her eccentric, intimidating grandmother scared away any guy who might otherwise be interested, but she didn't dare say that out loud.

Her grandmother loved her and had raised them when they'd had absolutely no one else. So what if she was obsessed with their family history-so much so that it caused her to act irrationally a lot of the time? Deanna wasn't going to give up on her.

Since she was eleven and her parents had died in a car accident, she'd worked desperately to hold her family together, often a losing battle as they always seemed on the verge of disaster.

"What are you doing?" The sharp voice came from behind them and startled Deanna so much she jerked.

She turned to see her grandmother, a small woman with rigid posture who always wore a black dress and a tight bun. "We're working on these loose boards. I almost fell down the steps earlier because I tripped on one."

"Well, you can do it later. We need to leave for the ball in thirty minutes."

The "ball" was a black-tie party at the country club for which her grandmother refused to give up her members.h.i.+p. Three or four times a year, Deanna was hauled to one of the parties and foisted on any available bachelor who happened to be present.

She'd known what was coming this evening, but she'd been hoping that pretending it didn't exist might make it go away.

That particular strategy never worked, but she kept trying.

"I was thinking that maybe I wouldn't go to-"

"You must," her grandmother interrupted.

"But I've met all of the available men who ever attend. None of them are interested in me. It's not like I'm going to find my future husband there, so it feels like a waste of-"

"It is not a waste. There might be someone new. And Morris Alfred Theobald III might attend."

Her grandmother's latest scheme was to match her up with Morris, a short, balding, pompous a.s.s who was always referred to by his full name. Deanna couldn't stand him, and she spent most of the last social function trying to avoid his groping hands.

He was rich, though, so her grandmother thought he'd be a good match.

"Now go get ready," her grandmother said. "Wear the green dress."

Deanna sighed and stood up, giving Kelly a wry look. Over and over again, she daydreamed about defying her grandmother and just saying no. It was a ridiculous, anachronistic idea anyway-finding a rich husband to restore the family fortune. But every time she was on the verge of rebelling, she would see something that looked like desperation in her grandmother's eyes.

The family meant everything to her grandmother. And, in her worldview, the only way to save the family was to marry a man who could bring in the money they needed. Deanna could hardly expect the old woman to have kept up with the times. If the choice was giving up an evening to go to a party or breaking her grandmother's heart, Deanna would always choose giving up the evening.

It was a small enough thing, after all. She didn't want to hurt her grandmother.

"Kelly," her grandmother said, "The Pride needs to be dusted."

Deanna and Kelly looked at each other. "The Pride" was a collection of Mrs. Beaufort's dead Siamese cats, all professionally stuffed by a taxidermist to preserve them. They were prominently displayed in the parlour, along with a host of other family treasure, including china and costumes from their Beaufort forebears.

In high school, Deanna never dared invite friends inside the house, since they invariably laughed at the museum she lived in. Now, she found it rather endearing. In a world that cared more about the next big thing, she thought it was meaningful that her grandmother wanted to remember good things from the past.

Kelly nodded. She was just nineteen, but she'd always been oddly mature and sensible. "I'll dust them this evening when y'all leave. Deanna might need my help getting dressed."

Deanna didn't need any help-certainly not from Kelly, whose idea of fas.h.i.+on was a baggy T-s.h.i.+rt and braids-but she was glad for the company as she went upstairs to get dressed. She showered quickly and came back into her room to find her sister was trying to smooth out a few wrinkles on the silvery-green dress that Rose, who was an excellent seamstress, had made for her last year.

A few minutes later, Kelly was eying her sister moodily as Deanna worked on her long brown hair.

"What's the matter?" Deanna asked, noticing her sister's uncharacteristically sober expression.

"Nothing. Just one day you're going to have to say no to her."

Deanna knew immediately who the "her" referred to. "I say no to her plenty."

"Yeah, on little things that don't mean anything. But you won't say no to her on big things."

Deanna stiffened her shoulders. She'd done her makeup, so the face looking at her in the mirror was fresh and pretty, with familiar large, light gray-green eyes and full lips. Around her neck was a lovely beaded necklace that she'd made herself. In her little spare time, she loved working with beads. "Yes, I will. Going to a party isn't a big deal. There's no sense in making a stand over something so little. If it's important, I'll say no to her. For instance, I'll never date Morris Alfred Theobald III, even if she wants me to."

"Maybe. But sometimes I wonder. You should be living on your own now, using your salary to build a life for yourself instead of trying to take care of all of us. You don't have a life at all because you're trapped by all of us and our weirdness."

"I am not trapped," Deanna said sharply, surprised and worried by the turn of the conversation. Kelly was so self-possessed that it was sometimes difficult to know what was going on in her mind. "I love you all. I live here and help with money because I choose to, because it makes me happy. I'd be miserable if I just up and left you in the lurch."

"I know you'd feel guilty, but the point is, you shouldn't have to feel guilty for living your own life. It's like you're always trying to hold everything together for us, and you shouldn't have to do that."

"Kelly, stop. This is my life. I'm not some sort of sacrificial lamb for the family. I like my job, and I like living here, and I love all of you, and it's not the end of the world to go to a few parties. You'd do the same thing."

"I'd be terrible at a party. Grandmama would never take me. I'd humiliate her."

This was true. Kelly had always been a tomboy growing up, and she still had absolutely no social graces. Their grandmother would never try to marry her off until she had no other choice. Since Rose was a live-in nanny, she wasn't in the position of being pushed onto the marriage-mart.

No, it was only Deanna who got that joy-at least for the time being.

Sometimes it was embarra.s.sing. She knew that people laughed at her grandmother and talked about her obvious ambition to get rich husbands for her granddaughters.

She shook the thought away. She'd lived with it for a long time, and it didn't change the most important things.

She loved her family, and she would do anything she could to make them happy and take care of them.

If that meant going to a fancy party and being thrown at any eligible men who happened to be present, then she could live with that.

The party was exactly as Deanna had expected.

It was mostly the same crowd as always attended these functions, and she greeted her friends and acquaintances with conversations that felt like they'd been replayed dozens of times before.

At least Morris Alfred Theobald III wasn't present.

She only saw a few people she didn't know. One of them was a very attractive man she had trouble keeping her eyes off of. He looked to be in his thirties, and he was taller than anyone else in the room, with an impressive build, cla.s.sically handsome features, and a kind of lurking charisma that seemed to attract people like a magnet. He was the only man not wearing a tuxedo.

She didn't know who he was, but he appeared to have a date-Gina Fenton-so she had to a.s.sume he wasn't available.

If he was, her grandmother would find out soon enough and drag her over to meet him.

Deanna was sneaking another look at the good-looking, dark-haired man when a voice from behind her surprised her. "Deanna, how lovely you look tonight."

She turned to see a middle-aged, matronly woman she recognized. "Mrs. Damon," she said with a smile. "Thank you. How are you?"

Lucy Damon was as much a fixture at these parties as her grandmother was, and Deanna had known her most of her life. The Damons were rich and successful with their hotels and restaurants all over the world. Deanna had dated Lucy's son, Benjamin, in high school, and she knew her grandmother was crushed that she hadn't managed to snare him.

"I'm doing very well. Benjamin and Mandy are getting married. Did you hear about that?"

"No, I didn't!" Deanna smiled at the news. "Congratulations. You must be thrilled. When is the wedding?"

"In three months. They're going to get married here in Savannah. I hope you'll be able to attend."

"I wouldn't miss it." Deanna was still smiling with pleasure at hearing how well Ben and Mandy were doing-she'd only met Mandy briefly but she'd immediately liked the sweet, pretty young woman. Then her eyes drifted over to the handsome man she didn't know again.

He happened to be looking in her direction too, so their eyes met across the room.

It was one of those strange moments that feel intense for no good reason. Fl.u.s.tered, Deanna turned back to Lucy Damon.

Lucy had turned to see who had distracted her. "Oh, do you know Mitch.e.l.l Graves?"

"No," Deanna said hurriedly, before the name clicked. "Oh, I've heard of him, of course, but I've never met him. He owns the Claremont, right? Is that him?"

"Yes, that's him. He's been expanding his business. That's why he's with Gina Fenton tonight. Something about that restaurant the Fentons own. And I believe he's reached out to Cyrus, although I never heard how that turned out." Lucy's brother was Cyrus Damon, billionaire and CEO of Damon Enterprises, a man just as eccentric in his own way as Deanna's grandmother. "I'm not sure why Mitch.e.l.l is here tonight, though. He doesn't like these traditional get-togethers. He's..."

When she trailed off, Deanna was immediately curious. "He's what?"

"He's very modern in his behavior," Lucy said discreetly. "He's an excellent businessman, according to my brother, but his behavior..." She cleared her throat.

"He doesn't behave well?" Deanna tried to remember what she'd heard about the man. Most of it was connected to the Claremont Hotel, which had gradually become the most prestigious hotel in the city. She also thought she remembered his name being a.s.sociated with a few different women, but certainly nothing so scandalous it dominated the local gossip.

Lucy continued, "I understand he doesn't believe in traditions-including marriage. As you might expect, this has led to some ruffled feathers in Savannah. Evidently, he does love his mother, though, so at least he has that going for him."

"Oh." Deanna tried to hide a smile as she glanced back at him. That was probably why he was-quite inappropriately-wearing a business suit to the party. A man who didn't believe in much-loved and well-established traditions would be an anathema to a certain section of Savannah. She had to admire the brazenness, particularly since he owned a hotel that was founded on many of those traditions.

Mitch.e.l.l was talking to Gina Fenton, but his eyes s.h.i.+fted back casually to where Deanna stood. She knew he saw her looking at him, and she glanced away immediately.

No sense in being interested in that direction. If he didn't believe in marriage, he obviously wasn't a good option for her, and a man like that would never put up with her grandmother.

Deanna wouldn't even want him.

She wasn't as consumed by the past and their lineage as her grandmother was-not even close. But it was part of who she was. And she wouldn't want to date a man who treated things that were important to her like they were nothing.

When her grandmother came over a few minutes later and took her arm in a steely grip, Deanna knew she was going to be bullied into an introduction.

Her grandmother only acted like this when she was on a mission, which usually meant she'd found a new eligible man.

"I was talking to Mrs. Damon," Deanna began, knowing the objection was useless, even as she said it.

"She will understand." She was heading toward the far side of the room, and Deanna could see who was standing directly in their path.

Mitch.e.l.l Graves.

"Grandmama," Deanna said in a low voice, feeling a flush rising in her cheeks. "There's no sense in introducing me to-"

"He is single."

"I know, but he isn't...I mean, he won't..."

"He comes from no family, but he is rich. Talk to him. Maybe you'll like him."

Deanna almost groaned. She'd been through this many times before, and she was usually confronted with either sympathy, amus.e.m.e.nt, or faint disgust, depending on the character of the man in question.

Deanna wasn't sure what Mitch.e.l.l Graves' character would be, but she somehow knew he wouldn't appreciate being seen as a potential tool for restoring the fortunes of a failing Savannah family.

"Mr. Graves," her grandmother said, her sharp voice breaking into the conversation between Mitch.e.l.l and George Fenton without any warning at all. "This is my granddaughter, Deanna. You should meet her."

Deanna's cheeks were burning hotly now. She was used to her grandmother's blunt habits and brazen fortune-hunting, but she could very clearly see herself through Mitch.e.l.l's eyes. He would think they were nothing but a source of contempt and mockery.