The Admiral's Penniless Bride. Carla Kelly

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       www.millsandboon.co.uk/ebookxmas.

      Praise for award-winning author

      Carla Kelly:

      ‘A powerful and wonderfully perceptive author.’

      —New York Times bestselling author Mary Jo Putney

      ‘It is always a joy to read a Carla Kelly love story.Always original, always superb, Ms Kelly’s work is a timeless delight for discerning readers.’

      —RT Book Reviews

      ‘Kelly has the rare ability to create realistic yet sympathetic characters that linger in the mind.One of the most respected … Regency writers.’

      —Library Journal

      ‘These two have seen each other at their best and at their worst. Have been tried and tested in the flames yet come out stronger for it. I certainly enjoyed the trip …’

      —Dear Author on MARRYING THE ROYAL MARINE

      ‘Taking her impetus from Robinson Crusoe and the film Castaway, Kelly crafts the story of a shipwreck survivor readjusting to civilization … Kelly presents a clear portrait of the mores and prejudices of the era, and demonstrates how to navigate through society’s labyrinth with intelligent, sharp repartee. This alone is worth the price of the book.’ —RT Book Reviews on BEAU CRUSOE

       ‘You need help. I need a wife. I don’t think I can make it any plainer.’

      ‘No, I suppose you cannot,’ Sally murmured, but made one final attempt to make the man see reason. ‘Admiral, you know nothing about me. You truly don’t.’

      It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him, but she found she could not. Coward, she thought.

      He looked at her then, and his face was kind. ‘I know one thing: you haven’t yammered once about the weather. I suppose marriages have started on stranger footing.’

      ‘I suppose they have,’ she agreed. ‘Very well, sir.’

      About the Author

      CARLA KELLY has been writing award-winning novels for years—stories set in the British Isles, Spain, and army garrisons during the Indian Wars. Her speciality in the Regency genre is writing about ordinary people, not just lords and ladies. Carla has worked as a university professor, a ranger in the National Park Service, and recently as a staff writer and columnist for a small daily newspaper in Valley City, North Dakota. Her husband is director of theatre at Valley City State University. She has five interesting children, a fondness for cowboy songs, and too many box elder beetles in the autumn.

       Novels by the same author:

       BEAU CRUSOE

       CHRISTMAS PROMISE (part of Regency Christmas Gifts anthology)

       MARRYING THE CAPTAIN*

       THE SURGEON’S LADY*

       MARRYING THE ROYAL MARINE*

       MARRIAGE OF MERCY

*linked by character

       Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

      The Admiral’s

      Penniless Bride

      Carla Kelly

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      To my father, Kenneth Carl Baier,

      US Navy 1941–1971. Anchors aweigh, Dad.

      Prologue

       1816

      The last five years had been a hard school. When Sally Paul had left the Bath employment registry with a position near Plymouth as lady’s companion, but only enough money to ride the mail coach, she had known she was heading towards pinch pennies.

      As she neared the Devonshire coast, Sally owned to some uneasiness, but put it down to the fact that, after Andrew’s suicide, she had sworn never to look on the ocean again. Still, times were hard and work difficult to come by. No matter how pinch penny the Coles might prove to be, she was on her way to employment, after six weeks without.

      Such a dry spell had happened twice in the past two years, and it was an occupational hazard: old ladies, no matter how kind or cruel, had a tendency to die and no longer require her services.

      Although she would never have admitted it, Sally hadn’t been sad to see the last one cock up her toes. She was a prune-faced ogre, given to pinching Sally for no reason at all. Even the family had stayed away as much as they could, which led to the old dear’s final complaint, when imminent death forced them to her bedside. ‘See there, I told you I was sick!’ she had declared in some triumph, before her eyes went vacant. Only the greatest discipline—something also acquired in the last five years—had kept Sally from smiling, which she sorely wanted to do.

      But a new position had a way of bringing along some optimism, even when it proved to be ill placed, as it did right now. She never even set foot inside the Coles’ house.

      She hadn’t minded the walk from the Drake, where the mail coach stopped, to the east edge of Plymouth, where the houses were genteel and far apart. All those hours from Bath, cramped in next to a pimply adolescent and a pale governess had left Sally pleased enough to stretch her legs. If she had not been so hungry, and as a consequence somewhat lightheaded, she would have enjoyed the walk more.

      All enjoyment ended as she came up the circular drive, noting the dark wreath on the door and the draped windows proclaiming a death in the family. Sally found herself almost hoping the late member of the Cole family was a wastrel younger son given to drink who might not be much missed.

      It was as she feared. When she announced to the butler that she was Mrs Paul, come to serve as Mrs Maude Cole’s companion, the servant had left her there. In a moment he was back with a woman dressed in black and clutching a handkerchief.

      ‘My mother-in-law died yesterday morning,’ the woman said, dabbing at dry eyes. ‘We have no need of you.’

      Why had she even for the smallest moment thought the matter would end well? Idiot, she told herself. You knew the moment you saw the wreath. ‘I am sorry for your loss,’ she said quietly, but did not move.

      The woman frowned. Maybe she expects me to disappear immediately, Sally thought. How am I to do that?

      She could see that the woman wanted to close the door. Five years ago, at the start of her employment odyssey, Sally might have yielded easily. Not now, not when she had come all this way and had nothing to show for it.

      ‘Mrs Cole, would you pay my way back to Bath, where you hired me?’ she asked, as the door started to close.

      ‘There was never any guarantee of hire until I saw you and approved,’ the woman said, speaking through a crack now. ‘My mother-in-law is dead. There is no