Seeking Mr. Debonair (The Jane Austen Pact) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Seeking Mr. Debonair

  The Jane Austen Pact

  Cami Checketts

  Birch River Publishing

  Copyright

  Seeking Mr. Debonair: The Jane Austen Pact

  Copyright © February 2018 by Cami Checketts

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Dedication

  For my mom and dad who taught me how to love to read, how to shoot for my dreams, how to work hard, and who love me no matter what. I love you Mom and Dad!

  Introduction

  Dear Reader-

  Not only is Cami Checketts one of my favorite authors, she is also one of my favorite people!

  Cami writes tight plots packed with action and fun. Her hero’s are swoon-worthy and the women feisty! I love her writing style and humor! Whatever you’re doing—stop! Sit!

  And get lost in a romance that will have you wishing for more Austen and more Checketts!

  Taylor Hart

  Author of The Love Potion Groom: Movie Star Romances

  Free Book

  Sign up for my newsletter to hear about exclusive offers, sales, and new releases, and receive a free ebook copy of The Resilient One: A Billionaire Bride Pact Romance here.

  Contents

  Introduction

  Free Book

  The Jane Austen Pact

  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

  About the Author

  The Fearless Groom by Cami Checketts

  Also by Cami Checketts

  The Jane Austen Pact

  I, Harley Redland, do solemnly swear to seek after and marry a man who is as debonair as Mr. Darcy.

  Chapter One

  Harley Redland bounced around the small kitchen of her apartment in New Haven, walking distance from Yale University, where she’d graduated recently. She clutched the letter and shrieked, “Yes, yes!” The letter was proof that all her dreams were about to come true. She’d been accepted into a Master’s in Business Administration at Cambridge University in her dream location, England. She was floating.

  First, she had to call and tell Sierra, fellow Jane Austen Pact member and her closest friend. Or maybe she should call her parents first. Then she needed to put in some serious hours creating new jewelry pieces and updating her website so she could pay for schooling, traveling, and living expenses.

  She knew her dad would be happy to help, but she wanted to be as independent as possible, especially since her family wouldn’t be thrilled that she was going to England instead of coming home to Wyoming. They’d never understood her wanderlust—how much she needed to not just see the world but taste and feel it, live in different locations and learn from people from different cultures. They assumed four years in Connecticut would be enough, but she’d been too busy with school to truly experience the difference of the East Coast and satiate that need for exploration. She doubted a lifetime of traveling the globe, especially Jane Austen’s England, would fill her cup of experiences.

  She squealed, “England!” and thumped her feet on the floor. She would finally live her dream, and maybe even find a debonair man who would talk just like Mr. Darcy and sweep her off her feet. Of course he’d be reticent, so she’d have to woo him with her flirtatiousness and wit. But he’d be so appealing and drool-worthy. At twelve, she’d made a pact with her girls’ camp friends that she’d marry a man like one of Jane Austen’s heroes. That promise sparked her desire to fly beyond the Wyoming mountains, and now the Jane Austen Pact was more of an excuse. She didn’t care if the people from home thought she was an eccentric who wanted to marry an Englishman. She’d rather have them think that than be offended by the truth—that she needed experiences beyond the little bubble of Happy Valley, where she’d grown up.

  Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. She tugged it out and saw it was her mom calling. Perfect timing! “Mama! You are not going to believe this—”

  “Honey, you’ve got to come home right now.”

  “Excuse me?” The seriousness in her mom’s voice yanked all the happy feelings straight out of Harley’s body.

  “Your daddy’s dying.”

  The room went dark. Harley fell onto a wooden kitchen chair. “Wh-what?” she stammered, struggling to grasp the idea. Her dad was the epitome of health, a burly rancher who could wrestle a steer to the ground with his bare hands.

  “He hasn’t been feeling well this past year. He’s been hiding it from you and Ryker, but you probably noticed when we came for graduation last month that he’s lost some weight.”

  Harley hadn’t really noticed, but she’d been caught up in graduating from Yale and hoping she’d get into the master’s program. The weekend with her family had been fun and sped by too quickly. Connecticut was great, but with her family here it had been fabulous.

  “You know how he will never go to the doctor?”

  “Yeah,” Harley managed to get out. Her throat felt thick and her head too big for her body.

  “I finally went behind his back, and Doc Thurgood came out to the ranch a few nights ago. He gave him a checkup and took a bunch of his blood. The tests came back today. Oh, love …” Her voice caught. “There’s cancer everywhere. Bone marrow is what they’re saying, but it’s in his lungs and lymph nodes too. They don’t think he’ll make it more than a few weeks.”

  Harley’s heart felt like it had been ripped out of her chest. Tears coursed down her cheeks, and she couldn’t form a single word.

  “I’m sorry, love. I’m so sorry.” Her mom sobbed as if this was all her fault. Her mom always took everything on herself.

  “Oh, Mama, this isn’t your fault,” Harley finally managed to say through the stone lodged in her throat.

  “Will you come home?”

  It had been a huge issue the past four years, how little Harley had gone home. She loved Wyoming, but she’d had to stay focused and work hard to maintain a four-oh grade point average. Plus every summer she’d been awarded internships that gave her experience and helped her be marketable to schools like Cambridge for her master’s. Her acceptance letter sat on the table, looking sad and far away. “Of course. I’ll get a flight as soon as possible.”

  “Thank you. Text me the information and Ryker will pick you up at the airport.”

  Her older brother Ryker was a great guy, even if he was a born and bred cowboy and would never leave the ranch.

  “I love you,” she managed to say to her mom.

  “Love you,” her mom said, and she hung up before Harley could say anyt
hing more. Harley wanted to comfort and help her, but it would have to wait until she could be there in person. There were so many questions pinging around in her mind, mingled with the despair and hopelessness. What about surgery, bone marrow transplants, chemotherapy, or radiation? Was there truly no hope? How could this happen to her strong daddy?

  Harley forced herself to open her laptop and type in flights from New Haven, Connecticut, to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, with trembling fingers. Since she started school at Yale four years ago, she hadn’t gone home for longer than a weekend here and there and Christmas break, but she’d do anything for her daddy. Her mom hadn’t explained much of anything. Maybe there was hope for a different prognosis. She slid to the hard kitchen floor on her knees. Squeezing her eyes shut, she begged the Lord for a miracle. Her eyes being closed didn’t stop the tears from dripping from her lashes, and sadly, her prayer didn’t give her much comfort.

  Crew Harrison tossed a hay bale up on the stack, then reached for the next one. The afternoon sun blinded him every time he grabbed a bale, and little clouds of hay particles kept threatening to make him sneeze. It never got too hot in Aspen, Wyoming, but he’d already worked up a sweat.

  “You want to do yourself a favor?” Ryker drawled from behind him.

  Crew tossed the bale, then turned to his lifelong friend. “What’s that?”

  “Go take a shower and drive into Jackson.”

  “Why?” Crew would rather finish stacking the hay so he could check in on his other projects. Monday was always a beast, and when Ryker asked if Crew could help around the ranch until they found someone to replace his dad, Clint, Crew didn’t hesitate to say yes. The extra work was putting him pretty far behind, but he would just have to put in more hours.

  “Somebody’s gotta pick up Harley at the airport at 4:09 p.m.”

  Crew’s hands froze, tangled in the twine surrounding the hay bale. His throat went dry and his heart started thumping. “Harley?” he squeaked out.

  “Yes, Harley.” Ryker walked to him and thumped him on the back. “I know all about your lifelong crush on my little sis. It’s cool, man. Figured I’d help a brother out.”

  Crew turned and looked at his friend—tall, lean, and with dark, curly hair that women raved about. Crew was broader than Ryker and a couple of inches shy of his friend’s six-four. Crew had never had a problem finding women to rave about him, either. They loved his teal blue eyes, his dark blond hair, his tanned skin, and especially his well-toned body. Well, with the exception of one Harley Redland. She’d never raved about him at all. She wanted an “educated man.” Crew pushed out a breath in disgust. His education was more hands-on, sadly different from her teenage dreams of a Cambridge man with an English accent. Why she’d never grown out of those teenage dreams was a tragedy he couldn’t seem to circumvent.

  With effort, Crew thought of the present. “She’s coming home?”

  Ryker nodded. “This is your chance, bro.”

  “I don’t think I ever stood a chance with her.” Though the idea made his palms sweat and his heart pump fast and hard.

  “You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

  “I thought big brothers were supposed to keep men away from their little sisters, be overly protective.”

  Ryker shrugged. “If she fell in love with you, she wouldn’t end up living in Connecticut—or worse, England.” He pretended to shudder and then shook his head. “I love my sis, but she needs to remember her roots. Remember what’s important in life, and Jane Austen isn’t it.”

  Crew couldn’t help but smile. Harley’s fascination with Jane Austen was legendary in their small town of Alpine, Wyoming. Crew had never told anyone, but when she’d left for college he’d read every one of Jane Austen’s books, even the three short stories that most people had never heard of. They were okay, he guessed. He’d prefer a lot more action and a lot less pomp and silliness, but if Harley loved them he figured he’d better try and love them too. He was hopeless. He knew he had no chance with her, but his Harley obsession was worse than her Jane Austen obsession.

  “You’d better hurry, bro. You’ve got an hour drive, and you need to smell like something besides horses and schmuck or she’ll never fall for you. I’ll finish up here.”

  “Thanks, man.” Crew slapped Ryker on the shoulder and hurried for the barn door and his four-door silver Chevy truck. Excitement spread from his chest to his limbs. Harley was coming home and Ryker was rooting for Crew to finally be able to date her.

  Guilt tempered his enthusiasm. She was coming because her daddy was going to leave them all soon. It wasn’t the best of circumstances, but he hadn’t seen Harley much in the past four years. He wasn’t going to miss his chance to show her he had a brain in his head, and that he was a much better fit for her than some uppity Englishman.

  Chapter Two

  Harley wearily grabbed her carry-on from the overhead compartment, slipped her purse over her shoulder, and shuffled along with the crowd maneuvering down the aisles of the airplane. They’d changed from a jumbo jet to a smaller commuter plane in Salt Lake City for the final leg to Jackson Hole’s airport. She hadn’t slept well the night before, worrying about how her mom was holding up and already mourning her dad.

  The guilt of missing out on family time the past four years was wearing on her. Her parents were great, and while her brother Ryker was a tease, she adored him. She’d kept her visits short and infrequent for two reasons: her schooling and internships, and the fact that she wanted to avoid Ryker’s best friend, Crew. She’d spent most of her life infatuated with him and trying to ignore that infatuation. He was perfect with his blue eyes, swoon-worthy grin, and the way he always made her laugh. But no … He was perfect for some cowgirl. Not her.

  She shook off her daydreams of Crew. She was committed to experiencing the world, and Crew wasn’t going to sway her from that. He was probably head over heels in love with some girl in Wranglers anyway. Anger surged through her at that thought. Oh boy, she needed chocolate and a nap. Crew wasn’t the right one for her, so she shouldn’t stew over him dating someone else.

  “Excuse me,” she murmured when she literally ran into the tall man exiting the aisle in front of her.

  He turned, obviously unhappy about having his heels clipped, but as his dark gaze swept over her face and body, he smiled instead. He wore a white shirt and suit coat but no tie, and his top few buttons were undone. It was a nice look, especially considering the clean lines of his face and his slightly disheveled hair. In fact, he reminded her a lot of Matthew Macfadyen when he’d played Mr. Darcy. Most women thought Colin Firth was the perfect Mr. Darcy, but Harley would take Matthew any day.

  “Not a problem,” the man said in a clipped English accent.

  Harley’s eyes widened and all weariness fled. “Where are you from?” she blurted out.

  His smile grew and he said, “Cambridge.”

  “No.” She put a hand to her chest.

  He raised an eyebrow. “No?”

  “I’m starting a master’s program at Cambridge in the fall.” She wanted to ask him a hundred questions.

  “Well, isn’t that perfectly coincidental.” He extended his hand, very proper, and her happy meter ticked quicker. “James Dartmouth. My pleasure. Miss …?”

  She put her hand in his. “Harley Redland.”

  “Are you two going to move or flirt?” an irritated female voice said from behind Harley.

  “Oh! Excuse me,” Harley said.

  James smiled and gestured for her to walk in front of him. What a gentleman. She hurried down the aisle, hefting her carry-on as she descended the steps of the plane and walked into the dry, seventy-degree Jackson Hole early summer evening. She liked the cleanness of the air against her skin, and she felt alive and excited at the prospect of some time at home. Guilt rushed over her as she remembered why she was here. Her daddy was dying.

  James stepped down next to her and gently grasped her elbow and escorted her away from the other passengers
exiting the plane. “Would you fancy exchanging numbers?” he asked.

  More forward than Mr. Darcy would’ve been, but she needed him to be. Otherwise she’d never see him again. At least she’d be able to learn from a Cambridge native what it was like there. “Sure.” She pulled out her phone. “Tell me your number and I’ll send you a text.”

  He smiled and rattled off his phone number. A quiver of happiness went through her when she realized it was an international code—England’s code. He truly was from Cambridge, not just a fakey with an accent. She typed it in, sent a text with her name, and then saved his contact information.

  “Have I had the pleasure of encountering my first local?” James asked after she stowed her phone and they walked together toward the terminal.

  “Yes.” Did she come across as a local? She’d made a concerted effort in Connecticut to lose any Western accent. “My family’s ranch is about an hour south of here.”

  “Home for holiday?”

  “Until I fly to England at the end of August.” She grinned just thinking about it. The grin wilted as she wondered if this fall her father would really be gone. It just didn’t seem possible. “What brings you to Jackson Hole?” she asked, not wanting to dwell on her impending gloom.

  “Here for business.”

  “Which is?” Was she being too forward?

  “I’m an artist. My paintings are housed in several studios in Jackson Hole. I’ve been invited to multiple showcases of my art, and then I will spend the rest of my holiday painting. I hear the scenery is beautiful here.”