Beauty for Ashes

Beauty for Ashes
Dorothy Clark

Beauty for Ashes

Beauty for Ashes

Dorothy Clark

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

This book is dedicated to my husband, Ralph—

because he’s my Justin.

Thanks, honey, for being my hero, now and always.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Epilogue

Chapter One

New York

March, 1820

E lizabeth stopped outside the door of her father’s study to gather her courage. She was certain his summons was about her refusal to accept Reginald Burton-Smythe’s offer of marriage, and equally certain he would be very angry. There was simply no help for it. She couldn’t abide Mr. Burton-Smythe. His mere presence made her skin crawl. And no one, not even her father, could force her to speak words of acceptance to him.

Elizabeth pressed her hands to her abdomen, drew a slow, deep breath to ease the sudden, painful spasm in her stomach and opened the door—delay would only increase her father’s ire. She stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind her. The room smelled of smoke, after-dinner port and cigars. The combination did little to help the state of her stomach. “You wished to see me, Father?”

Ezra Frazier looked up, placed the paper he was reading on his desk and motioned her forward. “I understand from Burton-Smythe you refused his hand. Is that the right of it?”

His tone of voice did not bode well for her. Fear moistened her palms. Elizabeth pressed them to the soft velvet fabric of her long skirt. “Yes, Father, it is.”

His features tightened. “Tomorrow when he comes calling, you will ask his forgiveness and tell him you accept.” He lifted the paper from his desk and resumed reading.

She was dismissed. As easily as that her life was ruined—any hope for future happiness destroyed. Anger overrode the fear clamped around Elizabeth’s chest. She squared her shoulders and forced words out of her constricted throat. “I’m sorry, Father, I cannot…I will not…accept Mr. Burton-Smythe’s offer of marriage.”

Shock spread across her father’s face. The vein at his right temple pulsed. He rose to his feet. “You dare to defy me?”

The soft, icy tone of his voice made Elizabeth shiver in spite of the anger heating her blood. She searched for words to turn away his wrath. “It is not out of defiance I speak, Father. Rather, it is revulsion and fear of Mr. Burton-Smythe that gives me voice.”

“Make me no puling excuses, Elizabeth!” The flames of the fire glittered in her father’s cold, steel-gray eyes as he looked at her. “The betrothal agreement has been signed. When you wed Burton-Smythe the warehouse property he owns on South Street comes to me. My fortune will double—and more yet. I’ll not lose my gain because of your mewling fear.”