August 22nd 1872
Samuel Turner had been back on English soil for only three days and he was already starting to miss being away from his family and the stuffy traditions he was forced to bear.
His cravat, a fine silk one coloured dark green, was itchy and confining in the muggy summer air. His dark blonde hair was already starting to come apart in the humidity despite how many times he smoothed it down, smothering it with pomade to achieve a sort of stylized unruliness few gentlemen could pull off as well as he.
He was about to pay a visit to his betrothed, a woman he had not seen for four years when she was a girl of only fifteen. Regrettable words had been exchanged and Samuel burned with shame to remember some of the more horrid things he had said. It was highly unpleasant to think about and he shuddered to think how Phoebe's family would receive him.
He took one last look at his handsome reflection in the mirror before tugging at his cuffs and leaving his dressing room. He found his father in the study, looking over a sheaf of papers and looking untroubled.
"I am leaving now Father, I shall be back presently," Samuel said, peering into the room, not wishing to step fully in.
"Come in here Samuel please," his father said, putting the papers down.
"I really should dash, I don't want to be late," Samuel said nervously.
"This won't take a minute, I want to speak with you." His father's face was impassive and with a heavy sigh Samuel entered the study, taking a seat across from his father.
"I know that the last time you saw this family things did not go quite as planned. Now I want you to do your best to rectify whatever happened three years ago and your most charming, kind, good natured self. Do you understand?"
"Yes father," Samuel said muttered, feeling a naughty seven year old.
"Watch your step and do not do anything you will regret," was the grim reply.
"Yes father, I'll try," he stood up and hurried from the house, stepping into the waiting carriage.
Samuel had been in Canada for the last two and a half years and though he had been in brief communication with the Newtons it had never been more than a polite letter. His family, during his absence, had visited the Newtons a few times and Emilia had informed him that his intended was quite pretty now. He could only hope his sister was right.
The coach arrived at Greenwood House at exactly half past five. He got out and rang the doorbell, aware of how similar his current actions ere compared to the ones four years ago. The butler opened the door and once again, he was ushered into the parlour where the exact same scene awaited him.
The five Newtons were sat in their places, Grace and George and Lord and Lady Newton. Sitting between the latter was his bride to be.
This time, Miss Phoebe Newton was the opposite of what he had expected.
Sometime during the last four years Phoebe had grown into a radiant young lady. Instead of the pale, thin girl she once was, she had blossomed; Her wispy blonde hair had grown thick and golden. Her eyes sparkled with laughter and her face, though still long, did not give the impression of a dog that had been beaten frequently by his master. Samuel was rendered speechless at the sight, but as soon as their gazes met her eyes narrowed and she sat up straighter, nostrils flaring slightly.
"How good of you to come," Lord Newton beamed from his seat.
"It was kind of you to invite me," Samuel replied, still shocked by the changes in his betrothed's appearance.
YOU ARE READING
No Ordinary Romance (BOOK 1)
Historical Fiction'She didn't struggle, she kissed him back and when they stepped apart he saw a look of love and sheer devotion in her eyes. He held her in his arms once more. her head lay against his chest and there they stood for what seemed like forever, and inde...
