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  THE EARL’S UNSUITABLE BRIDE

  Lauren Royal & Devon Royal

  The Earl’s Unsuitable Bride is the SWEET & CLEAN edition of Amethyst by Lauren Royal

  6th Edition, July 2017

  Novelty Books

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Book Description

  More Chase Family Books

  A Message from Devon...

  Chase Family Tree

  Cover Image

  Dedication

  Prologue: The last time...

  1: "Are you telling me...

  2: Colin entered their carriage...

  3: "Ring-a-ring o' roses...

  4: "Colin! Down here!"

  5: Colin's siblings stared...

  6: Colin paused...

  7: "She's touching me."

  8: Amy washed down a bite...

  9: Colin backed through...

  10: The road out front...

  11: It was.

  12: Amy trailed listlessy...

  13: Standing beside the wagon...

  14: "The mews was over there...

  15: Colin gently tucked...

  16: Amy woke to the sound...

  17: "I returned to take her...

  18: "Where are they all?"

  19: Amy spooned soup...

  20: Amy bit her lip...

  21: "I've never been..."

  22: Kendra dashed into...

  23: Jason had plenty of excuses.

  24: "Defending the castle?"

  25: When Colin and Amy...

  26: The first wrong note...

  27: Colin cursed fluently...

  28: "I'm fine...

  29: Colin unwound himself...

  30: The keep was built of...

  31: "Criminy...

  32: In the morning...

  33: With a heavy sigh...

  34: With a hum of satisfaction...

  35: When Colin came in...

  36: Amy gasped...

  37: Retrieving her book...

  38: As the dance prescribed...

  39: "I have a headache."

  40: Hearing voices in...

  41: Kendra stood back...

  42: Robert's alcohol-laden...

  43: Amy jerked awake...

  44: Amy ran as fast as...

  45: Colin leaned low...

  46: The screech of a key...

  47: Colin strode out the door...

  48: "I don't know where he is...

  49: Robert pushed the spoon...

  50: The sign on the...

  51: Robert leaned back...

  52: Colin reached St. James...

  53: As the sun disappeared...

  54: Colin had checked...

  55: Colin pushed on the...

  56: The numbers on the doors...

  57: Only a street from...

  58: There was a King's Arms...

  59: It was still dark and foggy...

  60: Minutes later...

  61: Colin leaned against the...

  62: With Kendra in tow...

  63: The Chase brothers'...

  64: Amy couldn't really...

  65: Colin entered the bedroom...

  66: Back in their carriage...

  67: "Hey, down here!"

  68: Half an hour after...

  69: Colin kicked the door...

  70: Colin slid his knife...

  71: "And when Harry kisses...

  72: Amy trembled...

  73: Hands behind his back...

  74: Benchley looked down...

  75: Colin looked again...

  76: "Anguille de bois, madame."

  77: Colin poked his head out...

  78: His expression unreadable...

  79: "You should be resting...

  80: "My lady...

  Epilogue: Jewel climbed...

  Thank You!

  BONUS MATERIALAuthor's Note

  Explore the Chase Family World

  Excerpt from THE MARQUESS'S SCOTTISH BRIDE

  Books by Lauren & Devon Royal

  Contest

  About the Authors

  Acknowledgments

  Contact Information

  Copyright Page

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  The Earl’s Unsuitable Bride is the SWEET & CLEAN edition of Amethyst by Lauren Royal

  London, 1666

  Amethyst Goldsmith makes dazzling jewelry, but her future isn't nearly as bright as the pieces she creates. Though custom dictates she wed her father's apprentice, her heart rebels against the match. In mere days Amy will be condemned to a stifling, loveless marriage, and she sees no way out—until the devastating fire of 1666 sweeps through London, and tragedy lands her in the arms of a dashing young earl who knows a diamond in the rough when he sees it...

  Colin Chase, the Earl of Greystone, has his future all figured out. He's restoring his crumbling castle and estate to its former glory, and the key to its completion is his rich bride-to-be. But the Great Fire lays waste to his plans, saddling him with trouble—in the form of a penniless shopkeeper's daughter with whom he's most inconveniently falling in love...

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  A MESSAGE FROM DEVON…

  Not gonna lie, I thought it was pretty cool growing up with an author for a mom! I’d always been into books (like, every morning when 1st grade reading time ended, Mrs. Schultz had to physically pry the book from my hands), plus there were perks. Mom was always home with us kids, so we never had to go to daycare. She was also always on deadline, so we got to eat a lot of Pizza Hut for dinner. And I could impress my friends by moseying into Barnes & Noble and casually pointing out my mom’s books on the shelves.

  The only problem: I wasn’t allowed to read them!

  Her romance novels were for and about adults, and I was just a kid. A kid who loved books and hated rules—so you can imagine my dismay.

  Of course, the instant I was old enough, I swiped a full set of her books from the garage and devoured them all in a row. And I wasn’t surprised when I loved every one, because, you guys, my mom is seriously awesome.

  Recently the aforementioned awesome lady had an awesome idea: releasing new, revised versions of her novels that are appropriate for all ages, so that everyone can enjoy them. To think, all those dismay-ful years could have been avoided!

  I knew instantly I was the girl for the job. My mom and I have been writing together basically since I learned how to type—our first all-new collaborative release, Alice Betrothed, is a project we started when I was in middle school—plus, I was a sweet-romance-reading teenager myself only a few years ago. I literally bumped into walls walking around high school with my nose buried in a book.

  There’s a crazy amount of fantastic romance out there right now—we’re SO excited that you’ve chosen our book! Like, spontaneous-dance-party-excited! I would be doing the robot right now if I weren’t busy typing. Maybe I’ll wrap up this letter so I can go do that.

  I so hope you’ll enjoy Amy’s story!

  xoxo

  April 2016

  CHASE FAMILY TREE

  To see a larger version of the Chase Family Tree, click here!

  For our father and grandfather,

  Herbert Royal,

  who taught us to love books

  PROLOGUE

  London

  April 22, 1661

  THE DAY AMETHYST Goldsmith was born, her king was beheaded. Now, twelve years later, his son was returning to England
, and Amy wanted to see every exciting second of his triumphant procession. Without taller people blocking her view.

  Unfortunately, it seemed nearly everyone was taller than she.

  She shouldered her way through the crowd, her parents and aunt murmuring apologies in her wake. “Here, there’s room!” Finally reaching a few bare inches of rail, she clasped it with both hands and turned to flash them a victorious smile. “Come along, it’s starting!”

  Hugh and Edith Goldsmith joined her, shaking their heads at their daughter’s tenacity. Hugh’s sister, Amy’s Aunt Elizabeth, squeezed in behind. Ignoring the grumbling of displaced spectators, Amy spread her feet wide to save more room at the front. “Robert, over here!”

  Robert Stanley tugged on her long black plait as he wedged himself in beside her. She shot him a grin; he was fun. Although he’d arrived just last week to train as her father’s apprentice, Amy had known since birth that she was to marry him—or at least since she was old enough to understand such things. So far they seemed to be compatible, although he’d been surprised to find she was far more skilled as a jeweler than he. Surprised and none too pleased, Amy suspected. But he would get over those feelings.

  She might be a girl, but, as her father always said, her talent was a God-given gift. She’d never give up her craft. Robert would just have to get used to it.

  With a sigh of pleasure, Amy shuffled her shoes on the scrubbed cobblestones. “Look, Mama! Everything is so clean and glorious.” She breathed deep of the fresh air, blinking against the bright sun. “The rain has stopped…even the weather is welcoming the monarchy back to England! Have you ever seen so many people? All London must be here.”

  “These cannot all be Londoners.” Her mother waved a hand, encompassing the crowds on the rooftops, the mobbed windows and overflowing balconies. “I think many have come in from the countryside.”

  A handful of tossed rose petals drifted down, landing on Amy’s dark head like scented snowflakes. She shook them off, laughing. “Just look at all the tapestries and banners!”

  “Just look at all that wasted wine,” Robert muttered, with a nod toward the fragrant red river that ran through the open conduit in the street.

  Amy opened her mouth to protest, then decided he must be fooling. “Marry come up, Robert! You must be pleased King Charles will be crowned tomorrow. Our lives have been so dreary until now. But now Cromwell is gone, and we have music and dancing!” She felt like dancing, like spreading her burgundy satin skirts and twirling in a circle, but the press of the crowd made such a maneuver impossible, so she settled for bobbing a little curtsy. “We’ve beautiful clothes, and the theater—”

  “And drinking and cards and dice,” Robert added.

  But Amy wasn’t listening. She’d turned back to ogle the mounted queue of nobility parading their way from the Tower to Whitehall Palace. Such jewels and feathers and lace! Fingering the looped ribbons adorning her new gown, she pressed harder against the rail, wishing she too could join the procession.

  “Where did they possibly find so many ostrich feathers in all of England?” she wondered aloud, then burst into giggles.

  Her aunt laughed and wrapped an affectionate arm around her shoulders. “Where do you find the energy, child? You must come to Paris. Uncle William and I could use your happy smiles.”

  Feeling a stab of sympathy, Amy hugged her around the waist. Aunt Elizabeth had lost her three children to smallpox last year.

  “We need her artistry here,” Amy’s father protested, poking his sister good-naturedly. “Your shop will have to do without.”

  “Ah, Hugh, how selfish you are!” Aunt Elizabeth chided. “Hoarding my niece’s talent for your own profit.” She aimed a teasing smile at her brother. “No wonder we moved to France to escape the competition.”

  Amy grinned. Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle William had been forced to move their shop when business fell off during the Commonwealth years. But they’d flourished in Paris, becoming jewelers to the French court, and wouldn’t think of returning now.

  “I’m glad you came for the coronation, Auntie. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it,” Aunt Elizabeth declared. “Old Noll drove me out of England, so my home is elsewhere now. But heaven knows no one here is happier than I.”

  “Listen!” Amy cried. A joyous roar rolled westward toward them, marking the slow passage of His Majesty in the middle of the procession. “Can you hear King Charles coming? There are his attendants!” The noise swelled as the king’s footguards marched by, their plumes of red and white feathers contrasting with those of his brother, the Duke of York, whose guard was decked out in black and white.

  All at once, the roar was deafening. Amy grasped her mother’s hand. “It’s him, Mama,” she whispered. “King Charles II.” Glittering in the sunshine, the Horse of State caught and held her gaze. “Oh, look at the embroidered saddle, the pearls and rubies—look at our diamonds!”

  Amy didn’t care for horses—she was terrified of them, truth be told—so she paid no attention to the magnificent beast himself. But three hundred of her family’s diamonds sparkled on the gold stirrups and bosses, among the twelve thousand lent for the occasion.

  “Oh, Papa,” she breathed, “I wish we could have designed that saddle.”

  Aunt Elizabeth’s hand suddenly tightened on Amy’s shoulder. “Charles is looking at me,” she declared loudly.

  Amy’s father snorted. “Always the flirt, sister mine.”

  Amy’s gaze flew from the dazzling horse to its rider. Smiling broadly beneath his thin mustache, the tall king waved to the crowd. His cloth-of-silver suit peeked from beneath ermine-lined crimson robes. Rubies and sapphires winked from gold shoe buckles and matching gold garters, festooned with great poufs of silver ribbon. Long, shining black curls draped over his chest, framing a weathered face; the result, Amy supposed, of having suffered through exile and the execution of his beloved father.

  But his black eyes were quick and sparkling. Some women around Amy swooned, but she just stared, willing the king to look at her.

  When he did, she flashed him a radiant smile. “No, Auntie, he’s looking at me.”

  Before her family even stopped laughing, the king was gone, as suddenly as he had arrived. But the spectacle wasn’t over. Behind him came a camel with brocaded panniers and an East Indian boy flinging pearls and spices into the crowd. And then more lords and ladies, more glittering costumes, more decorated stallions, more men-at-arms, all bedecked in gold and silver and the costliest of gems.

  Yet none of it mattered to Amy, for there was a young nobleman riding her way.

  He looked to be maybe sixteen, a bit older than Robert—but she thought he looked much more mature. It wasn’t the richness of his clothing that caught Amy’s eye, for in truth his garb was rather plain. His black velvet suit was trimmed with naught but gold braid; his wide-brimmed hat boasted only a single white plume. He wore no fancy crimped periwig; instead his own raven-black hair fell in gleaming waves past his chin.

  Eyes the color of emeralds bore into Amy’s as he set his horse in her direction. His glossy black gelding breathed close, but she felt no fear, for the young man held her safe with his piercing green gaze. It seemed as though he could see through her eyes right into her soul. Her cheeks flamed; never in her life had a boy looked at her like that.

  He tipped his plumed hat. Flustered, she turned and glanced about, certain he must be saluting someone else. But everyone was laughing and talking or watching the procession; no one focused their attention his way. She looked back, and he grinned as he passed, a beautiful flash of white that made Amy melt inside.

  Long after he rode out of sight around the bend, she stared to where he had disappeared.

  “Amy?” Robert tugged on her hand.

  She turned and gazed into his eyes: pale blue, not green. They didn’t see into her soul, didn’t make her feel anything.

  Robert smiled, revealing teeth that ove
rlapped a bit. She hadn’t really noticed that before. “It’s over,” he said.

  “Oh.”

  The sun set as they walked home to Cheapside, skirting merrymakers in the streets. Her father paused to unlock their door. Overhead, a wooden sign swung gently in the breeze. A nearby bonfire illuminated the image of a falcon and the gilt letters that proclaimed their shop GOLDSMITH & SONS, JEWELLERS.

  There came a sudden brilliant flash and a stunned “Ooooh” from the crowd, as fireworks lit the sky. Amy dashed through the shop and up the stairs to their balcony.

  Gazing toward the River Thames, she watched the great fiery streaks of light, heard the soaring rockets, smelled the sulfur in the air. It was the most spectacular display England had ever seen, and the sights and sounds filled her with a wondrous feeling.

  If only life could be as exhilarating as a fireworks show.

  When the last glittering tendril faded away, she listened to the fragments of song and rowdy laughter that filled the night air. Couples strolled by, arm in arm. Robert stepped onto the balcony and moved close.

  His voice was quiet beside her. “This is a day I’ll never forget.”

  “I’ll never forget it, either,” she said, thinking of the boy on the black steed, the young nobleman with the emerald eyes.

  Robert reached out to tilt her face up. Was he going to kiss her? She’d never been kissed—what a day this was turning out to be! Her heart pounded as he bent his head and brushed his lips softly, chastely against hers.

  Her heart stopped pounding.

  It was her first kiss; she was supposed to feel fireworks.

  But she felt nothing.

  ONE

  Five years later

  August 24, 1666

  “ARE YOU TELLING me you made this bracelet? A girl? This shop is Goldsmith and Sons, is it not?” Robert puckered his freckled face and made his voice high and wavering. “Where are the sons?”