Their Foreign Affair (Scandalous Family--The Victorians Book 3) Read online

  Special Offer

  Learn the origins of the Great Family!

  The Great Family was not always a great family.

  In October 1843, Anna & Rhys, Natasha & Seth, Elisa & Vaughn all face problems, their hearts heavy with the challenges of life.

  This is the origins story of the multiple Scandalous series, when the first great family gathering, where traditions which will last a generation are born and Anna & Rhys, Natasha & Seth, Elisa & Vaughn meld into a single, united family.

  Find out how the couples of the Scandalous family learn that together, they are stronger.

  This novelette has not been commercially released for sale. It is only available as a gift to readers of the series, who subscribe to Tracy’s Newsletter.

  Click here to get your copy. http://tracycooperposey.com/free-copy-of-lost-at-sea/

  Table of Contents

  Special Offer

  About Their Foreign Affair

  Praise for the Scandalous Family— The Victorians series

  The Great Families

  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

  Did you enjoy this book? How to make a big difference!

  About the Author

  Other books by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  Copyright Information

  About Their Foreign Affair

  At the altar, facing marriage to a foreign Duke, Ann flees…

  Ann Thomsett, a descendant of royalty but a commoner herself, has worked to find a high-ranking husband to help the family restore its badly tarnished reputation. On the verge of her marriage to a Norwegian noble, though, she flees the cathedral with the help of a most unexpected ally; Adam Martell Davies.

  Adam is technically a member of the great family, but dislikes his English cousins and their ways, and much prefers to spend his time alone with his thoughts. During a rainy afternoon at Innesford, he is forced to endure Ann’s company and finds it not completely intolerable, after all.

  So when Ann throws herself at him, begging him to help her escape her Duke, Adam does. The pair dash across Europe, chased by the Duke’s men and rabid journalists who report the romantic couple’s affair to the newspapers of Europe. No one seems to care that they are nothing but friends…

  This book is part of the Scandalous Family—The Victorians series. This is the second spin-off series to feature a new generation of the Great Family, who are now scattering across Europe and beyond in search of adventure…and love.

  This story is part of the Scandalous Family—The Victorians series:

  1.0 His Parisian Mistress

  2.0 Her Rebellious Prince

  3.0 Their Foreign Affair

  …and more to come!

  A Victorian Era Historical Romance

  Praise for the

  Scandalous Family—

  The Victorians series

  Tracy is a wonderful writer that loves a complicated story. While her stories are true to the Victorian era, she brings so much more to her books.

  The characters are full of emotion and suck you right into the story. I love how Tracy pulls the reader into the story and we feel we have a front row seat to the action, and feel all the ups and downs of the characters.

  One thing is for sure, this is not your usual Victorian romance. This story has a great, and at least for me, and unexpected plot.

  This is a really satisfying read! There's plenty of substance to the plot and an interesting storyline with intrigue, action and suspense as well as the delicious romantic relationship developed between the two main characters.

  Tracy Cooper-Posey has a succinct and yet enthralling writing style that creates such an immersive experience that I feel like I'm stepping into situations right alongside these characters that I am getting to know!

  The Great Families

  Elisa and Vaughn Wardell

  Marquess of Farleigh, Viscount Rothmere

  1825 Raymond, Viscount Marblethorpe (stepson)

  1839 William Vaughn Wardell

  1839 John (Jack) Gladwin Lochlann Mayes (fostered in 1846)

  1842 Sarah Louise Wardell (D)

  1843 Peter Lovell Wardell (January)

  1844 Gwendolyn (Jenny) Violet Moore Wardell (adopted in 1848)

  1844 Patricia Sharla Victoria Mayes (fostered in 1846)

  1849 Blanche Brigitte Colombe Bonnay (adopted in 1851)

  1853 Emma Jane Wardell (adopted at birth)

  Natasha and Seth Williams

  Earl of Innesford, Baron Harrow (Ire.)

  1839 Lillian Mary Harrow

  1840 Richard Cian Seth Williams

  1841 Neil Vaughn Williams

  1843 Daniel Rhys Williams (February)

  1846 Bridget Bronte Williams & Mairin May Williams

  1849 Annalies Grace Williams

  Annalies and Rhys Davies

  Princess Annalies Benedickta of Saxe-Weiden, of the royal house Saxe-Coburg-Weiden, Formerly of the Principality of Saxe-Weiden.

  1835 Benjamin Hedley Davies (adopted in 1845)

  1842 Iefan William Davies

  1843 Morgan Harrow Davies (October)

  1843 Sadie Hedley Davies (adopted in 1845)

  1846 Bronwen Natasha Davies

  1848 Alice Thomasina Davies (adopted at birth)

  1849 Catrin Elise Davies

  ~~And their children~~

  Natasha and Raymond Devlin

  Viscount Marblethorpe

  1857 Vaughn Elis Devlin (Raymond’s heir)

  1861 Richard Seth Devlin

  Lilly and Jasper Thomsett

  1862 Seth Eckhard Thomsett (heir)

  1863 Elise Marie & Anne Louise Thomsett

  1864 George Jasper Thomsett (stillborn)

  1876 Jessica Louise Thomsett

  Sharla and Dane Balfour + Benjamin Hedley (Davies)

  Duke of Wakefield

  1867 Jennifer Jane Balfour & Benjamin Dane Balfour (heir)

  1868 Alice Thomasina Balfour

  1871 John William Balfour

  1873 Patricia Sharla Balfour

  1875 Stephen Spearing Balfour

  Bronwen Natasha Davies and Archeduke Edvard Christoffer of Silkeborg

  1870 Christina Clara Elisa Bronwen

  1874 Edvard Erhard Jasper Nicholas

  John (Jack) Gladwin Lochlann Mayes and Gwendolyn (Jenny) Violet Moore Wardell-Ryder

  Baron Guestwick, heir to the Marquess of Laceby

  1864 Jackson Vaughn Ryder

  1866 Stuart Theodore Ryder

  1869 Phillip Dane Mayes

  William Vaughn Wardell & Bridget Bronte Williams

  Viscount Rothmere, heir to the Marquess of Fairleigh

  1869 Elizabeth Anne Wardell

  1871 Vaughn Raymond Wardell

  1873 Mairin Elisa Wardell

  Iefan William Davies & Mairin May Williams

  1863 Adam Martel Davies (Adopted in 1874)

  1864 Daniel Martel Davies (Adopted in 1874)

  1866 Ève Martel Davies (Adopted in 1874)

  1868 Alicia Martel Davies (Adopted in 1874)

  Richard Cian Seth Williams & Eleanore Elizabeth Neville

  1875 Cian Richard Williams

  1885 Mary Eleanore Williams

  Daniel Rhys Williams & Catrin Elise Davies

  1871 Alice Edwina Williams

  1873 Rhys Raymond Williams

  1876 Lisa Grace Williams

  Neil Vaughn Williams & Blanche Brigitte Colombe Bonnay

  1875 James Rene Williams & David Neil Williams

  1877 Brigitte May Williams

  1879 Sarah Louise Williams

  1881 Edward Neil Williams

  Peter Lovell Wardell & Annalies Grace Williams

  1875 Delaney David Wardell

  1876 Graeme Peter Wardell

  1878 Natasha Annalies Wardell

  1879 Bellamy Richard Wardell

  1881 Elisa Grace Wardell

  1882 James Tissot Wardell

  Morgan Harrow Davies & Emma Jane Wardell (Williams)

  1875 Alexander Morgan Davies

  1877 Blair Rhys Davies

  1878 Lydia Becker Davies & Helen Campbell Davies

  1881 Jane Emma Davies

  River Heart & Sadie Hedley Davies

  Duke of Caldwell

  1869 Rowan Seth Watson Heart

  1870 Alexandria Victoria Heart (Victoria’s)

  1872 Jennifer Elizabeth Heart (Victoria’s).

  1879 River Rhys Heart

  ~And their children~

  Richard Seth Devlin & Ève Martel Davies

  1889 Raymond Richard Devlin (May)

  CHAPTER ONE

  Silkeborg, Denmark. June 1890 C.E.

  Ann could not seem to draw a full breath. She sipped gasps of air, her throat aching along with her chest and her head.

  “Nearly there,” her father murmured. He did not have to bend to peer through a small window to see where they were, for the entire top half of the carriage was made of windows. Each pan
e was polished to a crystal gleam.

  All the better to see the fate which laid before her.

  “What are those white things everyone is throwing at us?” Her father added as he tugged on the sleeve of his full military uniform. The tunic bore a startling number of ribbons and awards on the chest. Gold piping swirled over the fine red serge. Ann thought her father cut a handsome figure, even at his age. The grey flecks in his hair merely enhanced the effect of solid strength.

  No, it was not her father who was making her feel this way.

  She glanced outside once more, trying desperately to draw a full, even breath. “The people are throwing daisy petals,” she whispered.

  “What’s that?” Her father glanced at her, startled. “Petals?” He gave a small, constrained smile. “I suppose this is a royal wedding, isn’t it?” Pride showed in his eyes.

  Ann squeezed the silver posy holder. It held fifteen white roses, which cascaded between baby’s breath.

  “You may carry roses to the cathedral,” Harry Dahl, the Duke’s secretary, had explained in his dry, didactic voice. “After you are married, though, you must carry a bouquet of marguerites and purple heather, for they are the flowers of Denmark and Norway.”

  A royal wedding.

  The back of her neck and her throat prickled. She felt far too hot, all at once.

  How had events arranged themselves to deliver her to this moment? She was on her way to be married to Filip Sørensen, Duke av Slåssørn of Hamar, a Norwegian noble who could trace his ancestors back to the thirteenth century. His family was sword nobility, not merely robe nobility, for the title had remained with them since the seventeenth century.

  How had this happened? The last few months were a blur to her. Everything was a blur, imparting a sense of speed which far surpassed the dignified pace of the horse pulling the glass coach in which she sat. Everything had happened so quickly.

  Ann had arrived in Silkeborg shortly before Christmas, last year. That was when it had begun.

  Her father’s arrangements had allowed Ann to spend Christmas with Bronwen and her family. Bronwen was either Ann’s aunt or second cousin—neither of them had been certain of the exact relationship.

  “Although you are family,” Bronwen had declared after giving her a long embrace, then stepping back to inspect her. “I spent far too many years tromping about Northallerton myself, so we are both northern girls.”

  The bewigged footmen standing on either side of the tall double doors to the grand drawing room Ann had been led to didn’t twitch at their Grand Duchess’s outrageous declaration. Quite likely, they didn’t speak English. Although Ann had discovered in her few hours in Silkeborg so far that everyone seemed to know a little English—enough to make themselves understood.

  “Should I call you Aunt Bronwen, then?” Ann asked the older lady. “Or should it be Your Highness?”

  “Oh, she would like that,” said the man standing behind the sofa, his hand very casually pushed into the pocket of his trousers. Ann wasn’t certain if she had ever seen a man stand in such a way. It certainly gave him a relaxed air, which was astonishing, given that this was Archeduke Edvard Christoffer.

  Bronwen scowled at her husband. “I am simply Bronwen,” she told Ann firmly. “And this is Tor,” she added, waving toward her husband. “At least when it is just us in the room. I’m afraid it must be Your Grace when anyone else might hear.”

  Ann glanced at the footmen.

  “Oh, these men are most loyal and discreet,” Bronwen added quickly. “They are Tor’s personal guards.”

  “Oh,” Ann said inadequately. She had never met anyone who had their own guards. Queen Victoria had guards, she supposed, especially since the Anarchists had assassinated her cousin, Alexander, in Russia a few years ago.

  Ann leaned toward Bronwen and lowered her voice. “I thought they were footmen.”

  “They are.” Bronwen’s eyes twinkled. “They are well-trained footmen with special responsibilities. You may speak freely in front of them. Nothing will be repeated by them.”

  Ann wasn’t sure if she could speak with complete freedom in front of them. She would be far too self-conscious.

  “You may also be completely informal with Filip, too,” Tor added. “You will meet him tonight. He is my cousin. From Norway.”

  “I didn’t realize you had guests.” Ann prickled with discomfort. “I don’t want to upset anything—”

  Bronwen rested her hand on Ann’s sleeve. “Filip has been here for months. The palace is large enough that we can host any number of guests for as long as we want, and not find it the slightest bit inconvenient. I’ll have you shown to your suite, Ann. Then you can rest and prepare for dinner tonight. Did you bring evening gowns? I’m afraid we’re a teeny bit formal in the evenings.”

  Ann’s mother had prepared her for this as she helped pack her trunk with formal dresses and ball gowns which hadn’t been worn for well over a year.

  “I do have a suitable gown,” Ann said, sending silent thanks to her mother.

  When she descended from her bedroom suite to the second floor—for the first floor contained all the public rooms and public assembly areas—and was escorted to the evening drawing room that night, Ann was even more grateful for her mother’s foresight.

  The evening drawing room was even grander than the afternoon drawing room where Tor and Bronwen had greeted her. Gilded flourishes and curlicues bordered the robin’s egg blue walls, gold and white sconces flickered in the center of every wall panel, four chandeliers gleamed overhead, and a half-dozen footmen moved around the room with trays and decanters.

  There were also more than a few diners standing in clumps, their evening finery and jewels glittering in the light of the chandeliers. Several of the women wore tiaras. Many people wore regal sashes over one shoulder. Everyone clutched champagne glasses or sherry glasses in their gloved hands.

  Ann came to a halt a few steps inside the door, her heart sinking. She smoothed her bare hands over the pale green satin of her evening dress. She wore no tiara, no sash, no glittering diamonds. She wore no jewelry at all and only now felt the lack.

  This drawing room was a very long way from the comfortable drawing room at Northallerton, where toys peeped from beneath sofas, newspapers were spread across tabletops and family pictures cluttered the mantelshelf.

  It was even further removed from the shabby public rooms of Great Aunt Annalies’ boarding house for young ladies.

  Ann suddenly wished she was back at the big white house, completing her duties as butler, serving the sherry instead of drinking it, while laughing and talking with anyone in the room she felt moved to converse with.

  A man with a thick thatch of golden white hair and high cheekbones stood beside Tor. He was staring at Ann. He was as regally dressed as anyone in the room, although his tuxedo had a very modern cut, with thin lapels.

  The man leaned toward the Archeduke and murmured something.

  The Archeduke, Tor, glanced at Ann and gave her a small smile, while murmuring back to the man. Then Tor beckoned. It was a friendly gesture, not a royal command.

  Mildly reassured, Ann moved over to the pair. At the last second, she remembered to curtsey, as they were not alone. “Your Grace,” she murmured.

  Tor’s eyes twinkled. “Miss Thompsett,” he said gravely. “My cousin wanted to know who the fresh young thing by the door might be.” He glanced around. “The Duchess is paying no attention to me tonight, so I must introduce you myself. Let me see if I can get this right.” He put the glass he had been holding upon a small table at the back of the nearest sofa and tugged his jacket sleeve back into place.

  While he was doing that, Ann grew aware of the steady regard of the other man—Tor’s cousin, clearly. The man from Norway.

  Ann dared let her gaze flick toward him and away. He had very pale blue eyes, which were steady upon her. From this distance, she could see he was older than she had first thought. He looked to be in his late thirties, perhaps even his forties, although his eyes seemed younger.