Verity and the Forbidden Suitor, page 1
Verity and the Forbidden Suitor is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2023 by J. J. McAvoy
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Dell, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
Dell is a registered trademark and the D colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: McAvoy, J. J., author.
Title: Verity and the forbidden suitor: a novel / J. J. McAvoy.
Description: New York: Dell Books, [2023]
Identifiers: LCCN 2022041961 (print) | LCCN 2022041962 (ebook) | ISBN 9780593500064 (trade paperback) | ISBN 9780593500071 (ebook)
Classification: LCC PR9199.4.M386 V47 2022 (print) | LCC PR9199.4.M386 (ebook) | DDC 892.8—dc23/eng/20220909
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022041961
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022041962
Ebook ISBN 9780593500071
randomhousebooks.com
Book design by Virginia Norey, adapted for ebook
Title and part-title art: mozZz/stock.adobe.com
Cover design: Derek Walls
Cover images: © Jeff Cottenden (woman), © meldayus/Getty Images (garden), © Rrrainbow/Getty Images (building)
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Author's Note
Part One
Chapter 1: Verity
Chapter 2: Verity
Chapter 3: Verity
Chapter 4: Verity
Chapter 5: Verity
Chapter 6: Verity
Chapter 7: Theodore
Chapter 8: Verity
Chapter 9: Verity
Chapter 10: Verity
Chapter 11: Verity
Chapter 12: Theodore
Chapter 13: Theodore
Chapter 14: Verity
Chapter 15: Verity
Chapter 16: Verity
Chapter 17: Verity
Chapter 18: Theodore
Chapter 19: Verity
Chapter 20: Theodore
Part Two
Chapter 21: Theodore
Chapter 22: Theodore
Chapter 23: Verity
Chapter 24: Verity
Chapter 25: Verity
Chapter 26: Theodore
Chapter 27: Theodore
Chapter 28: Theodore
Chapter 29: Verity
Chapter 30: Theodore
Chapter 31: Theodore
Chapter 32: Verity
Chapter 33: Theodore
Epilogue: Theodore
Dedication
Acknowledgments
By J. J. McAvoy
About the Author
_143037566_
Beloved Reader,
This is still a Regency romance involving nobility and high society, in which there are Black people. This is fiction, and anything is possible here. I truly hope you enjoy it.
Sincerely,
Your Author
1
Verity
I am not a Du Bell.
But oh, how I longed to be. Not for title or wealth, nor even prestige and influence, as my family name, Eagleman, held all the same to even greater extents as a dukedom. With the exception of being a princess, there is no higher birth a girl could have than my own. And I was very much aware of the many who envied my life. Despite the many scandals of my household—my father’s affairs and illegitimate son, my mother’s misery and then death, followed by my father’s wholly inappropriate marriage to my stepmother, a butcher’s daughter; not to mention Evander, my elder brother, and his own marriage mishaps—there was no shortage of people asserting how fortunate I was to be born Lady Verity Eagleman. But given the choice, I would have preferred to be born Lady Verity Du Bell. To be born into a home filled with warmth, laughter, and teasing. A home filled to the brim with overwhelming love.
Instead, love seemed to always evade me. As though it had some personal vendetta against me. Evander was the godson of the Marchioness of Monthermer, Lady Deanna Du Bell, and as such was afforded many opportunities to experience such tender emotions with the family. I, on the other hand, was kept away from them and society at the behest of my father. By the time he passed, Evander had made a mess of our connection with the Du Bells, and, consequently, no other chances presented themselves.
Now, as I watched the candlelight of my brother’s carriage fade into the darkness, taking him and his perfect new wife, Lady Aphrodite, to their long-awaited happily ever after, the opportunity had arrived, only I knew not how to stand before this family or society at all.
I was alone.
The name Verity means truth, and yet I felt as if I were nothing but a lie. In front of most people, I sought to appear confident, self-reliant, but the truth is I was afeard…of so much.
“I cannot believe it is done,” said the marquess to his wife, whom he held openly within his arms, as we all stood before the gates of their London estate.
“After all these years, you still underestimate me, my dear?” the marchioness replied with her head held high, appearing pleased with herself.
The marquess was a man of white skin and golden hair that was nearly all gray now, with sharp blue eyes that always seemed focused upon either his family or a book. His wife was the opposite of him, with rich brown skin deeper in shading than my own and curly brown hair that she kept pinned up neatly. Rather than books, her brown eyes read people with frightening accuracy.
“Underestimate? Never. Stand in awe of your power? Always. Well done, my dear.” He squeezed her arm slightly, making her laugh while their eldest son groaned.
Damon Du Bell, the Earl of Montagu, also stood beside his wife, Silva, whose face was a bit round with a nose a bit short, but her demeanor was pleasant. They were locked, arm in arm, very much a parallel set to his parents. The look on Damon’s face showed he was not keen on the elder couple’s public display of affection, even as he mimicked them.
“One would think that you would have some restraint at your ages,” Damon said to them as though he were the parent.
“Dear,” Silva muttered in apprehension.
“You should thank heaven we do not, or you would not exist,” his father replied, making the marchioness’s eyes widen.
“Charles!”
“Father!”
“What are you all talking about?” questioned the youngest Du Bell, Abena, her little face bunched in confusion. Alongside her were two of her sisters, Hathor and Devana, and her brother Hector.
“Nothing!” said the marchioness and her eldest son in unison.
“That does not seem like nothing,” Abena pressed, frowning. “Are you keeping a secret?”
“Yes, they are,” said Hathor, the second Du Bell daughter, causing Abena to look to her for an answer. “Mama and Papa were thinking of sending you off to a professional pot washer, seeing as how you’ve become so good at it of late.”
Hector and Devana giggled and then laughed outright as Abena looked at her parents in horror.
“No, Papa!” Abena ran to her father, holding on to his waist for dear life, which made the marquess bend to her level and hug her.
“She is merely teasing you,” he comforted her.
But at that moment, it was I who felt pain.
What must it have been like to hug one’s father, one’s own mother even?
I did not know.
I stood before one of the most prominent and amiable families in all the ton, one I had always wished to be a part of, yet now I desperately desired to escape their blissful company. The irony.
“Verity, my dear, are you well?” the marchioness asked, stepping away slightly from her husband toward me.
No, I am not well. How are you all so happy? These were my true thoughts. Instead of speaking them, I quickly presented my best smile and said, “I am afraid not, Marchioness, as your daughter has stolen away my brother.”
Humor is always a good way to deflect from one’s self.
“Ha! I beg to differ. For it is your brother who has stolen away our daughter!” the marquess declared with a hearty laugh, Abena still at his side.
“Father, someone cannot steal someone whom you have formally given away.” Hathor rolled her eyes and pointed back to the house behind her. “Especially in such a grand fashion as this.”
“Hathor, it is called a joke,” Damon replied.
“Let us agree to call it the past, as in finished. As in, can we all retire for the evening so we may start afresh tomorrow? Hopefully with a new main character.” Hathor didn’t even wait, already turning to walk
“I pick Verity to go next!” Abena yelled, purposely running right by her sister’s skirts, causing Hathor to nearly stumble.
“Abena!” Hathor hollered, steadying herself.
The small girl spun around, grinning. “She is much more handsome, and she’s a duke’s daughter! Everyone will be engaged this season before you!”
“To the pots with you!” Hathor dashed after her into the house.
“Only Mama can do that!” I heard her little voice yell back.
“Where do they find this energy?” The marquess snickered and then looked over to his wife. “Ah, never mind. I have found the source.”
Damon, his wife, and the rest of his siblings all laughed. The marchioness managed only to shoot him a glare, detaching herself from his side entirely and walking over to me.
“Since you all wish to join your father in teasing me, I shall focus on this good child.” She met my gaze and smiled from ear to ear, taking my hand. “Oh, how happy I am to finally have you stay with us, Verity.”
“Thank you once again for having me, your ladyship—”
“Have I not told you that you may call me Godmother? I shall accept only that title. Now come, let me show you to your rooms,” she said as she led me back into the house, where the splendor of my brother’s wedding feast was slowly being dismantled by the servants.
“Ingrid,” the marchioness called out, and immediately, a slender older woman with a white streak of hair amidst all her pinned-up dark hair arrived at her side, curtsying before her. I found it strange that a lady would ever call any servant by anything but their surname, but no one else seemed to be concerned. “Do tell the servants they may leave the cleaning up until the morning—”
“And they may have the last barrel of wine!” The marquess’s voice boomed from behind us. Only now that we were inside could I see the redness of his cheeks more clearly. He was drunk. And I noticed that with a simple glance from the marchioness his valet was already beside him, leading him elsewhere.
“Ingrid, tell the servants they may take remainders of whatever they like,” she spoke to the housekeeper. “They all did so splendidly. I shall come down and thank them personally later.”
“Yes, madam.” Ingrid curtsied again before going.
“You will thank the servants personally?” The question came from me before I even realized, but only because I was so surprised. The thought of the marchioness or any noble lady going to thank the servants in their quarters seemed…abnormal. My governess lectured me nearly to deafness over my many trips to the servants’ hall or my escapes on my own throughout the grounds.
She glanced over at me, a bit saddened. “You do not think it is proper?”
“No, of course not. I mean, no, I do not think it is improper. My former governess would disagree, but she was very strict, though not unkind. I was very well taken care of. Just—oh, forgive me. I am a bit caper-witted all of a sudden.” I had apparently lost all control of my speech. Who was I to judge the way a lady ran her household, least of all the woman renowned for having the best-run home in the ton?
I thought she might be cross, but she merely giggled as she walked up the stairs with me. “You need not be so nervous, my dear, nor do you need to be so rigid. This home is your home.”
It very much was not my home. It was far too loud to be my home.
As if to prove my point, we both heard a loud crash above us.
“Ouch!” First came Hathor’s voice, then came a blur of curly hair as Abena sought to run back down the stairs toward us.
The girl’s small brown eyes widened in terror at the sight of her mother. “It was not my fault, Mama! Hathor is just cow-handed and you know it!”
“Who are you calling cow-handed?” Hathor’s head poked out from over the rails, looking down at us.
“It seems you both desire nothing more than to cut up my peace, so shall I return the favor?” the marchioness asked calmly.
“Good night, Mama!” Hathor and Abena said in unison.
As Abena rushed back up the stairs, I couldn’t help but giggle.
“Pay them both no mind. They are grieving.” She smirked, shaking her head as we reached the hall.
“Grieving? What for?”
“The loss of their sister,” the marchioness replied, opening the door to my room. “I should not say loss but the marriage of their sister. Hathor and Abena both love Aphrodite greatly and will miss her even more so. Since they cannot be sad at her marrying, they merely redirect their thoughts and energy.”
“I can imagine that being the case for Abena given her age, but Hathor?” I thought it very obvious she envied her elder sister. It was at least something I found relatable.
“Do not let Hathor’s sharp tongue and theatrics fool you. She is very much soft of heart,” she replied as she moved to close the curtains, again something I thought strange for a lady to do. “Now, on to you. This was Aphrodite’s room. The servants have already brought up most of your things. But should you need anything more, merely say it and I shall see it done.”
“Your lady—Godmother,” I corrected myself upon seeing the look on her face. “You have done more than enough for me already.”
“I have barely even scratched the surface, my dear,” she stated, frowning and leading me to the bench before the bed. “Verity…I tell you to call me Godmother, not simply because of your brother but because I am sure that is what your mother would have wanted.”
Had my mother lived long enough to declare her such, she meant. But my mother did not even live five minutes after my birth, I was told. The thought of it all made my throat ache, but I did not want to look woeful before the marchioness, so I simply nodded.
She took my hands into hers.
“You may never have known her, Verity, but trust me when I tell you that she loved you ferociously. She wished you to be brought up kindly and protected at all costs. Watching over you and your brother were the only things she desired of me, and I fear I have failed you—”
“You have not,” I replied. “You have saved me from much pain in the past. I am grateful. I am well now, and that is all that matters. You need not worry yourself over me, truly.”
“You are well. But are you happy?” she asked suddenly and I paused, one part stunned the other part concerned about what she saw in me. I did not want her to perceive me to be the same pitiful little girl she had rescued all those years ago.
I quickly fixed my lips to give her a wide smile. “Of course! My brother has gotten married! And to the woman he’s always loved, no less. Who would not be happy at such a blessed event?”
She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it once more and offered a gentle smile, placing her hand on my cheek before nodding. “I cannot wait to see whom it will be that stirs your heart as well.”
I laughed. “I wouldn’t give it much thought, Mar—Godmother.”
“Oh dear, not one of you seeks to give me respite. First Aphrodite, now you.” She sighed deeply. “Whatever do you all believe the purpose of presenting yourselves to society is for if not to secure an advantageous marriage?”
“Are you not tired of weddings, Godmother? You have had two within the year.”
“Quite the opposite in fact, I am invigorated for both you and Hathor.”
“Truly, there is no need!” I could feel my heart beginning to race at the thought.
“There is every need, my dear, every need, and I shall hear nothing more to the contrary. Now I shall leave you to rest. Sleep is a lady’s secret weapon. Good night.”
“Yes, Godmother. Good night.”
She gave my hand a tender squeeze before rising and walking to the door, taking her leave.
