Isabelle and Alexander by Rebecca Anderson (read novel full .TXT) 📕

Cover art © Mark Owen/ArcAngel

Book design © Shadow Mountain

Art direction: Richard Erickson

Design: Heather G. Ward

© 2021 Becca Wilhite

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher, ­Shadow ­Mountain®, at ­[email protected]. The views expressed herein are the responsibility of the author and do not necessarily represent the position of ­Shadow ­Mountain.

All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Proper Romance is a registered trademark.

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Library of Congress ­Cataloging-­in-­Publication ­Data

Names: Anderson, Rebecca, 1973– author.

Title: Isabelle and Alexander / Rebecca Anderson.

Other titles: Proper romance.

Description: Salt Lake City : Shadow Mountain, [2021] | Series: Proper romance | Summary: Isabelle Rackham enters into an arranged marriage in 1850 with the eligible Alexander Osgood, owner of a successful mill in Manchester, England, and who has close business relationships with Isabelle’s father. Although she enters the marriage with no illusions about love, but with a will to make it work, she finds her new home in cold, dreary, dark northern England difficult to bear until an accident occurs on a visit to Alexander’s country estate.

Identifiers: LCCN 2020043855 | ISBN 9781629728476 (trade paperback) | eISBN 978-1-62973-995-3 (eBook)

Subjects: LCSH: Newlyweds—Fiction. | Arranged marriage—Fiction. | Eighteen fifties, setting. | England, Northern, setting. | Manchester (England), setting. | LCGFT: Historical fiction. | Romance fiction.

Classification: LCC PS3623.I545 I83 2021 | DDC 813/.6—dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020043855

Printed in the United States of America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

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To Josi

You always believe I can.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

Discussion Questions

About the Author

Isabelle Rackham stood in the morning parlor staring into the mirror, grateful to be alone for a moment and that nobody was fidgeting with buttons, bows, fasteners, or pins. She took as deep a breath as her corseting allowed and ran her hands down the waist of her bridal gown, allowing herself a little shiver of delight.

Her wedding day.

Every young woman surely dreamed of this day, and Isabelle was no different, having planned and schemed and imagined every possibility, but even in her fantasies, she hardly dared hope that the groom would look like Alexander Osgood.

She had heard of him, of course, from her father. His successful mill in Manchester kept her father happily, profitably busy as Mr. Rackham supplied the mill’s coal. When her mother requested that Mr. Osgood send a miniature portrait, Isabelle felt sure that the artist had taken liberties with reality: no man was as handsome as that painting made him look. Isabelle begged her parents for a meeting wherein she could ascertain how closely the art reflected the man.

Her request was refused. Mr. Alexander Osgood’s reputation had traveled far enough that young ladies from the Lakes had heard of his rise to success as well as his good looks. Isabelle ought to simply take rumor as fact. She did wonder, though, about his mind. His temperament.

Without appearing overly eager to know more, Isabelle would ask subtle questions of her acquaintances. In return, they would repeat, again and again, that he was remarkably handsome. Perhaps that was all the man had to his claim. If that was the case, Isabelle had decided to overlook attendant deficiencies. A dashing countenance, she could admit, was sufficiently charming.

When he finally made an appearance at the Lakes, the Rackham family was the envy of all—he spent most of his visit in a series of meetings with Mr. Rackham. Isabelle’s friends assumed that the two of them had formed an attachment, but in fact, she had met with him over meals and otherwise seen him very rarely.

Rarely, but enough to know that the rumors were, indeed, accurate.

Mr. Osgood, he of well-cut suit and strong jaw and golden hair, appeared, if possible, more handsome than the painting and the rumors that had preceded his arrival.

And he’d certainly charmed Mr. and Mrs. Rackham. To Isabelle, he was polite but not forthcoming, proper but never particularly engaging . . . apart from his smile, which appeared seldom enough to be of ever so much interest. It was the smile of a young boy who holds a secret but is unsure he should tell it. A smile that spoke of timidity on a face that inspired swoons. Isabelle hoped to be the recipient of more such smiles.

When her father had approached her and let her know Mr. Osgood had made an offer that would combine families and business interests, Isabelle felt herself soaked in a state of marvel for days. Her emotions, ranging from delight at being chosen to annoyance at the efficient, professional, and completely passionless nature of the offer, swirled through her head and heart.

She had no delusions about romance. Well aware that she held a responsibility, as the Rackhams’ only child, to further her father’s business affairs, she had always been prepared to submit to a marriage connection that would strengthen the business that had allowed the Rackhams to rise up through the class of the working wealthy. Mr. Rackham’s business endeavors provided enough income that his wife and daughter lived in a style of comfort outmatched by few of the families in Cumbria. In return, Isabelle knew she would make a match that pleased him.

But now, she thought perhaps it could please her as well. Mr. Osgood had been effectual rather than warm in his offer of marriage, but surely once she was his wife, she would uncover and encourage his depth of charm and affection.

She glanced at her reflection in the glass from several angles. She saw nothing of which