Winifred Hornsby Is Seeking a (Terrible) Husband
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About this ebook
When Lady Winifred Hornsby finds herself at the center of a plot by her horrible cousin to steal her inheritance, she decides the only way to thwart his plans is to marry. But she won’t marry just any man. She wants to marry a man who will leave her alone — whether he’s a confirmed bachelor, a womanizer, or just your average idiot, she doesn’t care, as long as she gets to live her life unimpeded by an intrusive husband.
When her call for the less-than-perfect man is answered by a handsome con artist, she decides he’s her best option for a sham marriage that will keep her cousin at bay. Her growing feelings for him, however, have her starting to wonder if their sham relationship couldn’t turn into something more. The appearance of mysterious characters from both of their pasts further complicates their marriage plans in this Oscar Wilde–esque romance full of secret identities, grand schemes, and stolen trysts.
Lydia Westing
Lydia Westing is usually a comedy and pop-culture writer for websites like Reductress, Bunny Ears, Cracked, and The Modern Rogue. She has a small dog and a large husband, and they all live together in Nashville, Tennessee. She played roller derby for several different teams on and off for over five years. She’s much better at writing than she ever was at roller derby.
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Reviews for Winifred Hornsby Is Seeking a (Terrible) Husband
31 ratings2 reviews
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5A sweet story that tells how to solve a problem
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Too short but also so so sweet. Write a sequel maybe? Pretty please?
Book preview
Winifred Hornsby Is Seeking a (Terrible) Husband - Lydia Westing
Chapter One
Lady Winifred has shot another penguin,
Bernard said, coming into the kitchen. His thick eyebrows knit in concern. His partner François looked up from the soup he was tasting.
Not salty enough. The woman has no taste buds; she likes it saltier than the Pacific,
he said, sighing, before taking Bernard by the upper arm and gently leading him from the room.
The young cook was bug-eyed. She’s done it again? No, she hasn’t!
she cried to their retreating backs.
Please don’t say things like that in front of the new girl. She’s not used to it. Poor dear, I’m not sure she’ll last the month,
François whispered.
Oh, you always whip them into shape, darling,
Bernard replied, wrapping his massive arm around François’s trim waist and pulling him close. He loved the feeling of his petite partner against his side.
François pulled away, glancing around the corner at the young cook. She’s definitely not used to that.
Then Lady Winifred will fire her like she did the last girl,
he sighed, and the one before that.
Soon she won’t have the ability to fire anyone, if she keeps running amok in the back field with a gun like a lunatic,
François replied.
Bernard removed the photograph of the penguin from his lapel pocket and showed François how she had hit it right between its beady little eyes.
Where does she even keep finding these?
François asked.
Some article on the adventurer Hercule Pernode and his work in the Antarctic. Look how good of a shot she’s become, François.
Bernard beamed with pride at his student’s progress. You know, some would say that, as the mistress of this property, she has a right to learn to defend her home.
Some would say that, I agree, but not everyone, and you know whom I’m referring to. We have to tell her, Bernard. It’s our duty.
No,
Bernard snapped. It’s our duty to take care of it before it becomes a problem, and that’s exactly what I intend to do.
François gently set the penguin drawing aside and took Bernard by both of his meaty hands. Bernard’s sharp eyes went soft as François stared up into them. I did not fall in love with you, live through a war with you, and find a home where I could live happily with you just for you to go to jail for murdering some uppity draft-dodger.
I won’t do anything rash, I promise, but Winifred….
Winifred hired us because she likes to take care of herself, darling. She can’t do that if she doesn’t have all of the facts. She will be furious if she finds out we’re withholding this from her. It’s too late. She must be told tonight before dinner. He’s coming. She needs to be prepared.
Bernard crossed his arms and glared at the floor for a long moment.
I’m sorry, darling, but there’s just no way around it,
François said. He gave his partner a peck on the cheek and squeezed his arm before returning to the kitchen.
Bernard pulled the photo of the penguin out and stared at it darkly. Winifred really was becoming a good shot, and he worried that if they told her what his partner insisted they must before dinner tonight, she might take her problems into her own hands.
Section BreakLady Winifred sat in front of her mirror, fashioning her long hair into a rich chocolate-colored braid. The style of the time was very short, but she had never been one to do things just because other people were. In fact, her maid’s insistence that she simply must cut it to remain in fashion only made her more determined to let it grow. It nearly brushed her hip bones now, much to Milly’s dismay.
There was a knock on her bedroom door. She turned to call over her shoulder. I’m doing my own hair tonight, Milly. No need to come up so early, dear. I don’t need to do anything special for Froggy.
It’s us, ma’am.
François’s reply was muffled behind the thick wooden door. Are you decent?
Never, but you can come in, boys,
Winnie replied. She knew from the affectionate way he said us
that he must be referring to Bernard.
They always looked so silly together, Bernard tall and burly, François short and blond with bright-blue eyes, oddly Nordic-looking for a Frenchman. It must be why no one ever suspected they were a couple. They seemed so physically dissimilar it was odd just to see them in the same room. Or it would be odd for anyone other than Winnie, who cherished the two of them dearly. Employing them after the war was the best decision she had ever made.
Lady Winifred, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m afraid we’ve some rather upsetting information about your cousin, and I think it’s urgent that you know now,
François said. So formal, ever the butler he was so finely trained to be.
Bernard stood next to him, nervously twisting his gardening hat in his large hands.
What’s Froggy done now? More gambling debt, I suppose? Has he sold more of his family’s land? Oh, I do hope not. Is he coming here to ask me for money again? Because I’ve said I’ll not give him another penny for one of his investments that always turns dry, and I meant it.
Oh, he won’t be asking you for money, my lady. I’m afraid he’s come up with a new scheme. One he thinks will have him set for life,
Bernard replied.
Well, that’s the bee’s knees, boys!
Winifred clapped in excitement.
He’s planning to steal your fortune,
Bernard finished.
Winifred paused, her hand dangling in mid-air like she’d forgotten she was conducting an orchestra. My fortune?
I’m afraid so, my lady.
François nodded solemnly.
He can’t do that. Mommy and Daddy left everything to me fair and square.
Bernard cleared his throat uncomfortably. He was the