Sweet Memories Read online

  SWEET MEMORIES

  (Sons of Worthington Series – book 5)

  By Marie Higgins

  Copyright © 2017

  Edition License Notes

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Sweet Memories (Sons of Worthington, #6)

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  Other Stories in the “Sons of Worthington” series:

  Find more stories by Marie Higgins

  Author’s Bio

  Sign up for Marie Higgins's Mailing List

  Victoria Owens is determined to collect her deceased uncle’s inheritance and return home to pay her debtors. But when she meets the solicitor, he tells her about the stipulation in Lord Hollingsworth’s will. She must work as Major Cole Baldwin’s housekeeper for one year before she can get a shilling. Her sister’s life is at stake and Victoria needs the money fast. Before she can meet the major, she’s involved in an accident and loses her memory.

  Cole returns home wounded from the military, only to discover he must settle a debt that his father had made with Lord Hollingsworth—even though both men are deceased. Cole must allow the deceitful man’s niece to come to the estate and work as his housekeeper. Cole has also invited his dead wife’s daughter whom he’s never met, Victoria Hampton, to assist him with Hollingsworth’s niece. But an accident happens at the docks, and the woman he thinks is his wife’s daughter has lost her memory. Perhaps this is a good thing since there are secrets in his own life that he’s not willing to share.

  ONE

  Relief poured through Victoria Owens when her two-day trip on the stage finally came to an end. Being jostled around like a rag doll was not her idea of enjoyment. Thankfully, she managed to endure it, but she was anxious to get out. Determination had forced her to keep a positive outlook on the journey ahead. After all, she would be receiving money, which was the best motive to keep her thinking optimistic.

  The coach finally came to a stop at Portsmouth. She waited as the other passengers were helped out of the vehicle. When it was her turn, she nearly leapt from the stage, eager to be out in the open and smell the fresh air, even if it was sea air.

  Slowly, the driver lowered her luggage from the top of the stage. He handed the valise to her, and she clutched it in one hand, and her small satchel in the other. There was really only one item of value in her belongings, and that was the letter from her uncle, Lord Hollingsworth. Six years ago, he’d informed her that he’d set up a trust fund in her name. Now that the man was dead, perhaps she’d be able to collect the money he’d promised. Her uncle wasn’t the most respectable lord in the realm—far from it, in fact—but at least he’d left something to his favorite niece.

  Now, more than ever, she needed the money. If she couldn’t produce one thousand pounds by the end of the month, her younger sister, Annette, would be sold to the slave traders.

  Victoria’s stomach churned and bile quickly rose to her throat. She couldn’t allow that evil man to ruin her family ever again! It was bad enough he was the reason her mother’s heart gave out, but Victoria vowed he’d not be the reason for her losing another family member. Unfortunately, she had made many mistakes in her life, as did a lot of people, but her bad decisions had cost her dearly. Why hadn’t she learned not to toy with people’s lives as if they were sweet treats?

  She glanced at her surroundings. Many people thronged the cobblestone street, rushing from one place to another. Clenching her jaw, she hastily elbowed her way through the crowd who moved at a turtle’s pace. Time was crucial, and not one moment could be spared dallying. She had exactly one hour to locate a place of lodging before the appointment with her uncle’s solicitor.

  Because she’d used most of her money for the journey, she couldn’t hail down a hackney, so she quickened her step and searched for the nearest inn. As her outdated, button-up boots clicked steadily on the boardwalk, she headed toward her destination. Several buildings lined up close, which was vastly different from her home town, Kent. Loud, drunken men stumbled out of pubs in the morning hours, and the painted ladies on the top floor who practically hung out the opened windows wearing enticing gowns with low-cut bodices, invited any man who walked by inside for a sample. Shaking her head, she frowned. She wasn’t naïve to this kind of entertainment, unfortunately.

  When she spotted the first inn that looked affordable, she rushed inside. The walls were dingy and bare of any decorations. Even the rugs were frayed, and she couldn’t tell if the brown color was the original print or if it came from filthy shoe markings.

  Disgust shivered through her as she moved to the front desk. A man reclined in an awkward position in his chair, snoozing. His head rested against the wall as saliva gathered on his lower lip. She cleared her throat, hoping he’d hear her, but he continued to snore.

  On the desk sat a bell, so she rang it once. The man jumped to a sitting position and blinked his eyes. When he finally looked at her, his gaze scanned up and down her attire before he gave her a toothless grin.

  “Do you have any rooms available?” she asked.

  He wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “Aye, Miss.” He pushed the log-in book toward her. “If ye don’t mind filling this out, I’ll get yer room ready.”

  She quickly grabbed the quill and ink, and wrote her name in the book. He yelled into the other room for someone, and within seconds, a young girl who was perhaps in her tenth year, scrambled out as she adjusted her tattered dress.

  The man asked for payment, and Victoria grudgingly handed over the rest of her money. She tried not to think that she was giving him everything she had. Instead, she kept her thoughts positive. Within a few hours, she would obtain her uncle’s trust fund, and she’d be able to save her sister from slavery.

  At least she hoped that’s what would happen.

  The man at the counter handed the key to the girl. “Take this nice lady to room six.”

  “Aye, Sir.” Shyly, the girl smiled and curtsied in front of Victoria.

  She walked behind the girl until they reached the room. The girl unlocked the door before handing Victoria the key.

  “I ‘ope ye ‘ave a nice stay, Madam.”

  “I thank you.” Victoria smiled. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy my stay immensely.”

  Victoria walked in and closed the door behind her. Once she set her satchel and valise on the bed, she withdrew her mother’s old timepiece out of the breast pocket of her black cloak, and checked the time. Only ten more minutes before her scheduled appointment with Mr. Whitehead.

  It wasn’t hard to find a mirror in this small room since there was very little used to decorate the walls. As she gazed upon her reflection, she moaned in despair. The sight that stared back was absolutely horrid.

  To hide from the evil man who was looking for her, she had adorned herself as a widow; black gown, and a black bonnet with a matching veil. She removed the head piece and noticed some of her hairpins had fallen out of the bun she’d fashioned at the back of her hair. The once tight knot had dropped awkwar
dly and rested on her neck, as wispy strands stuck to her damp skin. There was nothing she could do about her style now, and if she tried to repair the damage, it would make her late for her appointment.

  Hoping to appear more presentable, she brushed both hands over the dust coating her black dress. Once satisfied with her appearance, she grabbed her satchel and hurried out the door. After obtaining directions to the solicitor’s office, she quickened her step toward the destination. She had one purpose in coming here, and it wasn’t to appear as Lord Hollingsworth’s grieving niece. Heaven might look down on her for thinking this way, but her mind wouldn’t rest until the trust fund papers were signed and the money was safely tucked away in her bank.

  Because of the delicate and most humiliating situation back home, which was the reason she needed the money desperately, she dared not say anything to the solicitor, Mr. Whitehead, or appear as if she was trying to hurry him. She hoped he wouldn’t be slow during the transaction, because then she would be rushing him, and he would certainly find that suspicious.

  Victoria made it to the solicitor’s office with time to spare. A round woman with a cheerful disposition showed Victoria into Mr. Whitehead’s office, and closed the door. She was left to sit alone in the unflattering room with only a single desk, two hard wooden chairs, and some shelves to gaze upon. The mid-summer’s humidity baked her skin like hot molasses as she fidgeted in her chair, waiting for the man of law. Several windows were open in the spacious room to help with the humid temperature, but the effect was hardly noticeable. She waved a small wrist-fan, trying to circulate the air, but it only accomplished straining her hand.

  Her hair had fallen completely out of the knot and hung down her back in a disorderly wave. Heated liquid gathered uncomfortably on the back of her neck, making her wish for a very cool bucket of water to dump over her head. Each second that Mr. Whitehead didn’t show, anxiety made her heart pound faster. She sighed. Impatience strained her already frayed nerves.

  The creaking door hinge brought her attention to the man entering the room. She stood, grateful to bring a small amount of air circulating around her body.

  The short, bald man greeted her with a wide smile. “My apology for keeping you waiting. I know how terrible the heat is this time of day since the sun beats directly inside my office.”

  She nodded. “I must confess, I do feel rather cooked.”

  He chuckled. “As do we all. Miss Owens, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” His words came to a sudden stop as he scanned her length. “But I suppose it’s not Miss Owens anymore. Correct?”

  “I’m now Mrs. Becksted,” she lied.

  “Well, Mrs. Becksted, I must tell you I thought very highly of your uncle. We were good friends before he died. Pity he was brutally murdered at the prime of his life.”

  A flash of memory resurfaced, even though she tried pushing it away. It was suspected that his wife, Lady Diana, had killed him. Victoria didn’t know the truth, but she wouldn’t put it past that ungrateful woman. Some of the things Victoria’s uncle had related to her about his marriage, made Victoria cringe.

  “Indeed, it was such a tragedy,” she retorted, hoping the older man didn’t want to chit-chat. She was only here for the money.

  The man’s gaze narrowed as it skimmed over her. “However, I don’t recall your uncle telling me you were married.”

  She tried to keep her sorrowful expression, mainly for his purpose. “It was a quick courtship, and I married my love exactly one day before my uncle’s murder. As you can see,” she motioned her hand over her morning garb, “I became a widow just as quickly.” She brought a fisted hand up to her mouth as she pretended to hold back a sob.

  “How very awful for you, Mrs. Becksted.” Frowning, he shook his head. “Might I enquire to how your husband died?”

  She’d prepared this story in advance, only because she didn’t want to appear as if she was trying to create a spur-of-the-moment explanation. “Tobias was in a riding accident. He fell from his horse and broke his neck.” To add the dramatics, she sniffed and wiped away an invisible tear.

  “Oh, how horrendous for you.” He reached over and patted her arm.

  “That’s the reason I’m here, Mr. Whitehead. My husband’s money was all tied up in debts. I’m nearly penniless now.”

  “Oh, dear.” He shook his head. “That certainly is a problem, then.”

  The way his skittish gaze jumped around the room and rarely rested on her made her skeptical. Why did he act in such a way? Deep down in her gut, panic grew and twisted painfully. Worry escalated inside of her quickly. “Mr. Whitehead, I’m certain you understand my dilemma, so I was hoping you could speed things along.”

  The older man released a laugh, sounding almost forced. He shook his head. “But what you don’t understand, Mrs. Becksted, is that I won’t be able to hurry things along at all.”

  Her throat tightened, and she swallowed hard. “What...do you mean?”

  Still sounding as if he forced his laugh, he rearranged the papers on his desk and didn’t meet her eyes. “I’m not certain how well you knew your uncle, but he was a man who loved to tease. He also loved to be in control, and if people didn’t think he was, he’d prove them wrong.”

  Victoria didn’t like the way things were going with this conversation. She wanted to scream at Mr. Whitehead and demand he give her the money, yet fear kept her voice frozen, and her tongue refused to move as she listened to the other man’s ramblings.

  “Your uncle was very wealthy,” Mr. Whitehead continued as he stacked and restacked papers. “And although he loved nothing more than to control people, he had a giving heart at times. He helped many of his relatives.” He briefly lifted his gaze to her and nodded. “He even helped his sister, your mother, on occasion.”

  “Yes, this I know, Mr. Whitehead.” Irritation filled her quickly, but she tried not to look as if she wasn’t about to scream at him. “But what I don’t understand is what all of this has to do with me.”

  He released a deep breath and sat back in his chair, linking his fingers over his large belly. “Did you ever get to meet his wife’s family—Baron and Baroness Baldwin?”

  She shook her head. “I was never introduced to his wife.” She gritted her teeth, not wanting to even say that woman’s name, let alone think it.

  “Lady Diana’s family had a nice estate near Bath, but her father, the baron, was a gambler, and not a very good one, unfortunately. Eventually, the baron ran out of money, but he still owed to his debtors. He pleaded with Lord Hollingsworth for assistance because he had two children who still lived at home...a son, and a daughter. As a way of giving thanks to your uncle for his help, the baron gave his daughter’s hand in marriage to Lord Hollingsworth. Only a few years later, the baron needed help, again. This time, Lord Hollingsworth made the baron sign over all of his lands and his estate to your uncle upon the baron’s death. But the baron worried about his only son, Cole, who was a Major in the British army at that point.” The solicitor took a deep breath, and released it slowly. “You’re probably wondering where I’m going with this.”

  Victoria arched an eyebrow. “What a coincidence, Mr. Whitehead. I was about ready to ask that very question.”

  He motioned his hand. “I’m almost there, I assure you.” When his hand rested on the top of the desk again, he annoyingly started to shuffle the papers, once more. “When your uncle died, that released the lands and estate back to the Baldwins—to his son, Cole, but on one condition.”

  After a couple of seconds passed without him continuing, she rolled her eyes and asked, “Which was?”

  “That Cole Baldwin take on a new housekeeper for the estate and keep her at least a year. And Hollingsworth had already chosen the person who would be that servant.”

  She shrugged. “I still don’t see what this happens to do with me.”

  The older man grinned wide. “You, my dear Mrs. Becksted, are Major Cole Baldwin’s newest housekeeper.”

  Vict
oria’s head swam with confusion...and anger...and frustration. Had she heard correctly? And yet, the sickening churning in her stomach let her know that she’d heard the other man perfectly clear. “M-m-my uncle wanted me to work for the Baldwin’s son?” She practically spit out the words. If her uncle had hated his wife—and her family—so much, why was he punishing Victoria?

  “Exactly.” Mr. Whitehead nodded. “For one year. After one year, the money will be released to you and you are free to spend it how you wish.” He handed her a letter with Hollingsworth’s seal. “This was written by your uncle. He wanted me to give it to you when you came asking about the inheritance.”

  She gritted her teeth and took it from him. Trying to keep her anger from showing, she broke the seal and opened the letter.

  My dearest Victoria. I have had to watch as my sister raised you, not agreeing with some of the ways you were brought up. So because I haven’t had any children, I’ve decided to help you along your path in life. I recall when you were younger, how much you had wanted to be in charge of your own estate. Now I’m giving you that chance. For one year, you will be the housekeeper at an estate that’s in my name. The true owners owe me money, and I will find a way to deal with them. However, for you, this opportunity will give you the chance to live your dream. If the owners don’t come through with their part of the bargain, I will take full control of the estate, and it will be yours forever. If they do pay me what I need, then this experience will have given you knowledge in the ways of housekeeping, so that you can find other employment. Yours, Lord Hollingsworth.

  Victoria was speechless for a few moments. He couldn’t possibly be serious...but apparently, he was very serious. Breathing deeply, she tried to keep the panic from rising to her head and making it throb harder. She raised her gaze to the solicitor. “Why did my uncle do this to me?”

  Mr. Whitehead pointed to the letter. “Lord Hollingsworth was trying to help you out the only way he could. Can you not see that? He’s allowing you to live your dream for a year, and in the process, you’ll gain experience for if you seek employment in this field. I believe you are one very fortunate woman. Not many uncles would be so generous with their nieces.”