Free Winning Miss Wakefield: The Wallflower Wedding Series by Vivienne Lorret Page A

said graciously.
    Eve clucked her tongue. “Nonsense. You loathe the very idea, but I appreciate your effort of sincerity, nonetheless. Sophie, she has learned a trick or two from you, I daresay.” She smiled again as if she had a surplus of amusement stored away in one of the many rooms. “Now, the two of you must want to settle in and refresh yourselves after your journey. Feel free to explore the house, if you are so inclined.”
    A maid in a frilled cap and apron appeared from an unseen doorway at Eve’s words. “Right this way, if you please,” the maid said with a curtsy before turning to lead them up the stairs.
    The jangle of carriage rigging rang through the open doors. It announced the arrival of more guests, and Merribeth was grateful that neither the maid nor her aunt stopped to wait on an introduction. There would be plenty of time for those formalities later.
    A new frisson of nervousness swept through her as she wondered if the next two weeks would be like the last two. Would she be caged in a house full of people who knew about her circumstances?
    “One good thing about a party in a manor this size,” Sophie said as they followed the maid down a series of halls, “is that there is always a place where one can catch a breath of fresh air.” She reached over and squeezed Merribeth’s hand briefly.
    In other words, don’t be nervous . She gave her aunt a nod of understanding. Now, if she could simply convince her stomach to stop churning, then all would be well.
    They were led into a vast chamber with chintz wallpaper covered in violet blossoms. The immense bed was the size of a small sailing vessel, with diaphanous lavender curtains tied to each of the thick, richly carved posts. Overlapping lengths of velvet curtains adorned the arched window situated behind a tufted chair in the same hue. A marble-topped vanity sat in the corner with a vase of freshly cut irises.
    “Begging your pardon, miss,” another housemaid said from the doorway, her gaze on Merribeth. “Your chamber is this way.”
    Her own chamber? She looked to Sophie, who seemed not at all surprised by this. “Go. I have toured this house before. Now, I want to rest until dinner.”
    Not one to argue about such a pleasant surprise, Merribeth followed the maid down the corridor and around another series of maze-like corners. The journey gave her time to think on how strange it was for her room to be so far from Sophie’s. After all, she was still an unmarried woman, and her aunt was her chaperone.
    However, when her nervousness threatened to return, she reasoned it could be that the rooms in between theirs were uninhabitable for guests. If Eve’s late husband had left her with a hillock of debts, it stood to reason she could not maintain all the rooms in a manor this size.
    While she’d set her mind at ease by the time they reached her door, she wasn’t at all prepared for the sight that greeted her.
    Her chamber was as vast as Sophie’s, perhaps even more so. Situated on a corner of the manor, her room was essentially inside a bartizan turret. Warm, golden sunlight filtered in through two banks of windows, adorned in draperies the shade of ripe peaches, with pale diaphanous sheers billowing in the breeze. Draped silk in the same hue fluttered against the rails of her colossal bed like a negligee. Painted peach blossoms decorated the walls, interspersed with hanging fruit so tempting that she wondered if the room was meant to resemble the Garden of Eden.
    The footman carried in her luggage. At the window, she stared out at the vast rolling hills, dotted with the brown thatched roofs of the village houses, nestled together as the land gradually merged with the cliffs overlooking the harbor.
    Looking out, her hand pressed against the churning sensation in her stomach. It was difficult to look out in the distance and not think of her parents or the terrible day they were swept out to sea.
    While the nightmares had lessened in frequency