{"id":2328,"date":"2025-12-20T01:45:56","date_gmt":"2025-12-20T01:45:56","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/christianregency.com\/blog\/?p=2328"},"modified":"2025-12-20T01:45:56","modified_gmt":"2025-12-20T01:45:56","slug":"a-suitable-match-serial-story-section-3-and-a-chance-to-win","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/vanessariley.com\/blog\/2025\/12\/20\/a-suitable-match-serial-story-section-3-and-a-chance-to-win\/","title":{"rendered":"A Suitable Match, Serial Story Section 3 and a Chance to Win"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"MatchCover\"To kick off our second year of celebrating Inspirational Regency fiction, we are presenting the serial story, A Suitable Match. At the end of the month we’ll be giving away a fabulous prize package filled with items tied to the story. For a chance to win, find the item mentioned in this section and leave a note in the comments.\u00a0Details and a list of prizes can be found here.\u00a0<\/a><\/em><\/p>

\"Fire<\/a><\/div>\n

Missed an earlier section? Read it here:\u00a01<\/a>\u00a02<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n

The George and Pelican Inn, somewhere between Somerset and London
\nApril 1818<\/p>\n

Pretending to be groggy, Cressida let her eyes fall closed. \u2018My dear\u2019 indeed. She\u2019d take him to task later for disobeying her wishes when she didn\u2019t feel as though her head was full of cotton. Allowing him to assist her down from the carriage, she gave her clothes a few half-hearted swipes, and when she woke a bit more, she raised a gloved hand to her nose and mouth. The inn yard reeked above the scent of her spilled perfume.<\/p>\n

Twiford held his arm out toward her, and she leaned on it a bit heavier than she\u2019d been willing to in the aftermath of the upset on the road. No need to reveal her hand. He\u2019d find out soon enough her antipathy toward him would not be discarded with ease. He\u2019d conducted himself today in a manner that she couldn\u2019t find fault with, but she\u2019d not forgotten the way he\u2019d tried to befoul her engagement. The whispers, the disapproval, the outright snubs, and insults.<\/p>\n

The door opened as they approached and the small group of travelers moved into a narrow hall. Twiford rapped out a series of instructions and the servants flew into action. Wraps were taken, bandboxes were swept up the stairs.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d like my maid to share my room. Her health has been delicate, and I\u2019d not have her in some drafty attic room.\u201d Cressida lifted her chin, half fearing this request would be ignored as well.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll make sure the innkeeper has a truckle bed moved into your room. It will only be a short wait. Meanwhile, I\u2019ve ordered a private dining room. Will you join me?\u201d The brow above one blue, sparkling eye lifted in inquiry.<\/p>\n

\u201cI must rid myself of travel dirt, my maid is ill, and the hour is late. I must forego that pleasure for another day.\u201d The day pigs fly, she thought to herself. If only she\u2019d been less groggy, she\u2019d have swept up the stairs and avoided this convenient invitation. How she longed to reach Great-Aunt Ainsworth\u2019s townhouse. Her own house for now, and longer if she managed to wed in the three months remaining before the will would be null and void.<\/p>\n

She turned toward the stairs and without warning, the shock of the carriage accident swept down on her. A sob escaped her throat. Tremors shot through her chest and tears slipped down her cheeks. How could God allow this to happen? Her mind protested against the reality that brought her to this place in the company of a sworn enemy. And Ross. She must ascertain his condition.<\/p>\n

Turning back toward Twiford, she made inquiry, \u201cWhat arrangements have been made for the injured driver of my coach?\u201d She hated the way she sounded. Like a whimpering schoolgirl. But it couldn\u2019t be helped. The combination of exhaustion and shock had taken a toll on her composure.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s been lodged in the stable living quarters. He\u2019s in good hands.\u201d Twiford moved over to Cressida\u2019s side and put a tentative arm around her shoulders, and began to guide her toward the stairs. Knighting shambled along behind, clutching two disheveled bags.<\/p>\n

Now that his arm was hovering around her shoulders, she was taken aback by the feeling of protection that washed over her. This enemy, this man who\u2019d done everything he could to discourage Chard\u2019s ardor, now gave her the soothing sense of being shepherded up the stairs. At the door to her room, down a dim hall, he bowed to her.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood night, sweet lady.\u201d He turned away and strode down the hall.<\/p>\n

The shock of being bereft of the unwanted anchor he\u2019d been shot through her and she sagged against the door frame.<\/p>\n

\u201cMiss Blackstone, let\u2019s go in now.\u201d Knighting\u2019s maternal instincts were well-known to her and she complied, not wanting to cause hurt feelings in the faithful retainer. After all, in her orphaned state, Knighting was her closest companion. Cressida roused herself to enter the low-ceilinged room, and the maid closed the door after them.<\/p>\n

The maid, though suffering a cold, offered her mistress needed comfort. Knighting helped Cressida out of her cloak and took her hand, guiding her to the pitcher and bowl on a side table. \u201cThere you are, miss. That\u2019s right. Warm water does do wonders. Ooh, that bed looks like heaven to me, and here they already brought up a steaming pot of tea.\u201d<\/p>\n

As she poured the tea, Cressida told her maid, \u201cOpen the bags, let\u2019s get our nightgowns on and go to sleep. Tomorrow is soon enough to deal with tomorrow\u2019s problems.\u201d It didn\u2019t seem fair. Departing the cottage this morning, all had seemed so clear. They\u2019d get to London, she\u2019d secure a husband, she\u2019d come into her inheritance. But then Ross had arrived, forcing her to accept his escort. Next, the accident, and being in essence made off with by Miles, Lord Twiford, her nemesis from the days of her engagement to Chard.<\/p>\n

She sat on the edge of the bed, clutching her bowed head. Lord, please guide me. I need Your fatherly hand. In Jesus\u2026<\/i> Her prayer was cut off by a sharp series of taps on the door.<\/p>\n

*Section 3 was written by Susan Karsten,\u00a0graciouswoman.wordpress.com<\/a>\u00a0*<\/p>\n

Did you find the hidden item? Note it in the comments below for a chance to win.\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n

Don’t forget that the readers will ultimately choose who truly loves Cressida, and whom she loves in return. Already have a favorite?\u00a0Go vote for him!<\/a>\u00a0Want everyone else to vote for him too? Grab a voting badge from the\u00a0Suitable Match Extras page<\/a>.\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

Who do you think is outside the door? Read the next installment!<\/a><\/i><\/p>\n

THE CONTEST AND POLL ARE NOW CLOSED<\/strong>. Feel free to continue to enjoy and share the story.<\/p>\n

Originally posted 2013-02-11 10:00:00. <\/small><\/p>

\"Listen<\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

To kick off our second year of celebrating Inspirational Regency fiction, we are presenting the serial story, A Suitable Match. At the end of the month we’ll be giving away a fabulous prize package filled with items tied to the story. For a chance to win, find the item mentioned in this section and leave […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":5,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[203,16],"tags":[582,206,207,39,190,566,209],"class_list":["post-2328","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-a-suitable-match","category-contests","tag-a-suitable-match","tag-free-regency-story","tag-inspirational-regency","tag-regency","tag-regency-reflections","tag-regency-romance","tag-susan-karsten"],"aioseo_notices":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/vanessariley.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2328","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/vanessariley.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/vanessariley.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vanessariley.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/5"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vanessariley.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2328"}],"version-history":[{"count":10,"href":"https:\/\/vanessariley.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2328\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2492,"href":"https:\/\/vanessariley.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2328\/revisions\/2492"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/vanessariley.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2328"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vanessariley.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2328"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vanessariley.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2328"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}