A Friendship in Ruins

  CHASITY BOWLIN

  Copyright © 2026 by Chasity Bowlin Van Winkle

  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.

  Also by Chasity Bowlin

  PARANORMAL HISTORICAL ROMANCE:

  THE VICTORIAN GOTHIC COLLECTION

  House of Shadows

  Veil of Shadows

  Passage of Shadows

  DARK REGENCY

  The Haunting of a Duke

  The Redemption of a Rogue

  The Enticement of an Earl

  A Love So Dark

  A Passion So Strong

  A Heart So Wicked

  An Affair So Destined

  REGENCY ROMANCE:

  STANDALONE

  The Beast of Bath

  Worth the Wait

  A Little Christmas Magic

  A Mistletoe Mishap

  A Private Wager

  Spellbound

  Between a Duke and a Hard Place

  THE LYON’S DEN CONNECTED WORLD

  Fall Of The Lyon

  Tamed By The Lyon

  Lady Luck and The Lyon

  The Lyon, The Liar and The Scandalous Wardrobe

  THE LOST LORDS SERIES:

  The Lost Lord of Castle Black

  The Vanishing of Lord Vale

  The Missing Marquess of Althorn

  The Resurrection of Lady Ramsleigh

  The Mystery of Miss Mason

  The Awakening of Lord Ambrose

  A Midnight Clear: A Lost Lords Holiday Novella

  Hyacinth: A Regency Romance Novella

  The Pirate’s Bluestocking (Pirates of Britannia)

  THE HELLION CLUB SERIES:

  A Rogue to Remember

  Barefoot In Hyde Park

  What Happens In Piccadilly

  When An Earl Loves A Governess

  The Duke’s Magnificent Obsession

  The Governess Diaries

  A Dangerous Passion

  The Lady Confesses

  Has Anybody Seen My Earl (Coming Soon)

  All I Want For Christmas Is You: A Regency Historical Romance Novella

  Making Spirits Bright: A Regency Historical Romance Novella

  The Boys of Summer

  When the Night Closes In

  The Lady In White

  And the collections:

  A Wraith At Midnight: A Historical Romance Collection

  THE DUNNE FAMILY SERIES

  The Last Offer

  The First Proposal

  The Other Wife

  The Late Husband

  The Plain Bride

  The Perfect Groom

  The Scandalous Elopement

  The Inconvenient Compromise (preorder)

  AND THE WYLDE WALLFLOWERS…

  One Wylde Night

  A Kiss Gone Wylde

  Too Wylde To Tame

  On The Wylde Side

  When Hearts Are Wylde

  THE LIFE OF A WALLFLOWER

  A Friendship in Ruins

  When Caroline Gets Cancelled (preorder for May 3rd, 2026)

  In a Lavender Daze (preorder for July 24th, 2026)

  Their Wildest Dreams (preorder for September 22nd, 2026)

  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Coming Soon….

  About the Author

  Chapter

  One

  CHAPTER ONE

  Miss Eleanor Harcourt strode purposefully along the corridor toward her brother’s study—the masculine bastion always dimly lit and smelling faintly of cigars. She needed an answer. If he meant for them to host a ball that Season, which they had done every year, then they would need to put things in motion. A date would need to be settled upon, a theme of some sort needed to be chosen. There were musicians to be secured, refreshments planned, decorations, a gown for herself… and it all had to be planned and scheduled around existing events of comparable and competitive desirability, such as the Hadley’s musicale or Lady Trenton’s annual ball. While they had wealth and position, they did not have rank. To face off against a revered hostess, or heaven forbid a duchess, would render their ball an utter failure. And Eleanor detested the very notion of failure.

  Normally, when approaching Julian, she would knock before entering. But he’d been avoiding her because he had no wish to be bothered by the details of the undertaking though he greatly enjoyed the results. He loved a party, after all, despite his general disdain for the planning thereof. In truth, her brother rarely planned anything. He simply showed up with the assumption it had all magically coalesced into a finished event. But the moment she stepped into his inner sanctum, she realized her error. Her brother was not alone.

  Adrian Grant was the most wonderfully irritating man in the entire world. Too handsome by far with his thick, dark hair and natural athleticism, he garnered resentment and admiration in equal measure. He was also a gentleman through and through. He was polite, attentive, charming, and he looked at her as though she were a potted plant. Pretty, but unimportant. Something in the background to add to the overall aesthetic, but easily ignorable otherwise. A familiar pang assailed her, not of her heart, surely, but her pride.

  “Pardon my intrusion,” Eleanor inserted, as she stepped into the room, clearly not at all sorry for her actions. “But it is vital that I speak with you, Julian. If you wish to hold the ball, then decisions must be made and they must be made today or I will not be responsible for the outcome.”

  “Drat it all, Ellie,” her brother said as he snapped shut the ledger before him with a decisive flourish. “You know we want to have the ball. We always have the ball. Every year. And every year it is a success. Why must I be plagued with the planning of it?”

  “Because if you do not give me series of suitable dates to choose from—dates where musicians can be obtained, where the appropriate floral arrangements can be ordered—then it will stop being the success it has been every year!” She’d have stamped her foot if it would have moved him to action rather than just amusing him.

  “Give over, Julien… you know she’s right. I’ve watched the two of you do tis particular dance year after year.” Adrian intoned with bored amusement. It was a prime example of the same disaffected ennui that made young debutantes swoon over him.

  Though it galled her to do so, she smiled in a grim facsimile of gratitude. “Thank you, Adrian. Your support in the matter is greatly appreciated.”

  He nodded at her, turning his attention once more to the documents before him, documents, she could only assume were beyond engrossing as he barely even glanced at her. A mild flash of annoyance swept over her, but she quickly pushed it away. She’d made a vow to herself when they’d returned to town for the season that she would not fall prey to that sort of wasteful emotion anymore. And why would she be upset? It was not as if he ever did much more than glance in her direction. She’d long ago given up being hurt by his—what? He didn’t ignore her. He simply had the audacity to be pleasantly indifferent to her.

  “You are quite welcome, Eleanor,” he said, not bothering to look up.

  Julien glanced through the ledgers on his desk in a thoroughly exasperated manner. The pages flipped so quickly it was a miracle he could comprehend their contents. Then he stopped. “A month from tomorrow,” he stated. “We’ve no engagements on the book for that date. Is that enough time?”

  For most people, likely not. But a great deal of the groundwork was laid for her. The numerous tradespeople whom she’d have to deal with in organizing such an event were well familiar with her and with the fact that they would be paid in a timely manner. More so than with many of their peers. They would be happy to accommodate her even on short notice. She was a remarkable hostess. She prided herself on that. “That is more than achievable.”

  “We’re expected at the Eagons’ tonight.”

  Eleanor tried to keep her frown at bay, but failed. Her lips turned downward and a slight sound of distress escaped her. Those were always such deadly, dull events. But the Eagons were friends of their late parents and impossibly kind people, even if dull. The music was lackluster, the refreshments flavorless and plain, and the heat… the heat of their small ballroom was intolerable. “Very well. Just the two of us or is Adrian attending as well? I can arrange for the barouche to be readied.”

  “No need,” Adrian answered, his distraction palpable. “I’ll make my own way. I’ve an engagement beforehand. Though I will look forward to your very pleasant company tonight. You’ll save a dance for me, Eleanor?”

  “As I do at every event,” she said, a fake smile curving her lips. One dance. Only one dance. At every event. And never a waltz. It was always some country dance or minuet. Something utterly benign. Because that is what existed between h
erself and the Right Honorable Mr. Adrian Grant. An acquaintance so marked by its unremarkable nature that no one even lifted a brow to see them together. It was almost as if, in the eyes of the Ton, he’d become her second brother. If only she could see him that way.

  “What will you do?” Julien asked.

  Adrian looked up from the documents, his confusion evident. He was still trying to make sense of it all. Oh, not the documents. Those were perfectly straightforward. It was simply that they altered his circumstances so greatly. He’d lived his whole life subsisting primarily on charm and reputation. Not impoverished, but lacking in prospects. He was the younger son of a younger son from a second marriage. His best hope for a future with any sort of security at all had been that his cousin might be kind enough to bestow a living on him. Now, he’d learned that his cousin had passed in an untimely accident and his uncle had shuffled off the mortal coil a year prior. He was the heir. The entirety of the Grant family fortune and lands would now be his. The weight of that was settling heavily upon him.

  “I suppose I’ll see this blasted solicitor and forfeit my role as ne’er-do-well,” he answered without any real heat. “Certainly an unexpected turn of events. Thomas was all but wed to Miss Lytton. My assumption was that I’d never inherit anything beyond a small bequest. Now I am an eligible bachelor and the marriage minded she wolves will be out in full force as they attempt to secure my hand for their whey-faced daughters.”

  “Whey-faced?” Julien repeated laughingly. “There are some very lovely young ladies who have been vying for your attention for some time… even without prospects.”

  Adrian made a sound that indicated his opinion of them. They weren’t terrible. In truth, some of them were, just as Julien had said, quite lovely. But they were all… what? Silly. But then they were little better than children, so wasn’t silliness their due? But he couldn’t fathom the notion of attaching himself to some young woman, fresh out of the schoolroom, immature, silly, and with no thoughts in her head beyond the excitement of her first season. Being in their presence made him feel… old.

  It wasn’t as if he’d never seriously entertained the notion of marriage before. He’d made concerted effort to find himself a bride a time or two. And it had been a series of dismal failures. If—if—he were to consider any woman going forward it would be someone sensible, someone not given to hysterics or who was obsesses with gossip. Someone like Eleanor. That thought crept in, slipping in silently but not nearly as unobtrusive as it ought to have been. Instantly, he dismissed the very notion. Not that he’d marry Eleanor, of course. She was his friend, after all. The sister of his very best friend. That, along with his very limited prospects over the years, had allowed him to form a very platonic sort of affection for her. Or so he frequently reminded himself. He liked her, he was fond of her. Not because she was female but because she was… well, Eleanor. Just capable, intelligent, dependable and still often bitingly funny, Eleanor who could give you a polite set down and leave you smiling, until you had a moment to really decipher what she’d said. And who had lovely brown eyes and dark hair that gleamed like polished mahogany in candlelight.

  For a brief second, he considered allowing for the possibility of something other than merely platonic feelings for Eleanor, but then instantly he dismissed it. The risk was too great, after all. Julien was his dearest friend. And that, as far as he was concerned, needed to be the end of it. He had too few friends to go muddying the waters in what could well end in disaster.

  “I’m certain there are,” Adrian agreed with his friend, keeping his tone neutral even as he tensed. He disliked matchmaking in general. When it was directed at him, he loathed it. “And I’m certain one of them will make a lovely bride for you. I’ll be looking for something… more. I think. More extraordinary than simply lovely.”

  Julien smirked. “Ah. Waiting to be struck by Cupid’s arrow?”

  “Not bloody likely. Felled by Artemis’ spear… I’ll leave the girls for someone else. I’d prefer a woman grown with a brain in her head and a sense of practicality.” Like Eleanor. But not Eleanor. Never Eleanor.

  “Ah. Boring… Well, that requirement should not be too difficult to meet.”

  Adrian wasn’t so certain.

  Chapter

  Two

  The Eagons’ house was obscenely warm, as predicted, just as it always was. The crowd was not overly large, but neither was the room, thus the press of bodies only amplified that discomfort. Mrs. Eagon, for whatever reason, feared that every young lady present would catch a chill and thus the windows of the ballroom were never opened wide enough to permit any real relief from the overwhelming crush. Indeed, the warmth generated by the sheer number of people present in the room, as well as the cloying smell of too many competing perfumes, was dizzying. Had she been given to such things, Eleanor might have fainted. She prided herself on being made of sterner stuff than that, though she was struggling to maintain her dignity at the moment. She was not some silly girl overcome at the slightest bit of discomfort, nor was she one of those wretched women who would feign a swoon for the attention it would garner for them.

  The musicians struck up another energetic tune for yet another country dance, the violin emitting a sharp, almost shrill sound. On the dance floor, her brother was twirling some young wallflower around, likely making her night. He had no interest in her beyond being kind, but that was long accepted about Julien. He was a confirmed bachelor and she… well, she was a confirmed spinster, wasn’t she? It hadn’t been her intent, but the reality of it was just the same.

  Across the room, she caught sight of Adrian. He was flirting shamelessly with someone whom she despised. Of course, he was. Lifting her fan, she waved it rather frenetically in an attempt to drum up a breeze, some hint of cool air in the overheated and overcrowded room.

  “Are you unwell?”

  Eleanor turned to her friend, Caroline Ashworth, and offered a wan smile that was intended to be reassuring. “Just overheated. Let’s take a turn, shall we?”

  “It’s only going to make you more overheated. Perhaps we can sneak to the window and one of us can create a diversion while the other nudges it open a few more inches?”

  “Heaven,” Eleanor sighed. “Absolute heaven. Also, it counts as a good deed. We’ll be saving others and securing our own position beyond the pearly gates.” The last was uttered in a teasing note, one that reflected good humor which she did not currently feel. A glance over her shoulder confirmed that Adrian was no longer flirting with the irritating Anna St. Martin and her perfect blonde curls. It was one thing to accept that he’d never view her as anything more than Julian’s sister and a friend by extension of that. It was another altogether for him to become tangled up with a viper hiding in plain sight.

  They began maneuvering their way about the room, weaving between groups of people that had clustered around the dance floor. They’d taken only a few steps when Lord Foxton strolled past them. The man had long been known to skimp on personal hygiene and that night was no different. The smell of stale sweat could not be masked by the overpowering perfume he’d attempted to cover it with. And the combination of the two, along with her attempt not to breathe too deeply in his presence, had her listing slightly, suddenly unsteady. The world seemed to tilt. Caroline was asking her questions but for the life of her, Eleanor couldn’t force an answer beyond her parched lips.

  And as the darkness seemed to swarm about her, Eleanor waited for the bone jarring impact of the hard floor, but it never occurred. It was like the guttering of a candle. Everything flickered and then simply went dark.

  Julien’s gaze was focused across the expanse of the ballroom. Adrian followed suit, his curiosity piqued. And what he saw sent a shock of alarm through him. Eleanor was on the arm of her dear friend, Miss Ashworth, and then she simply wasn’t. She seemed to vanish right before his eyes. There was a collective gasp moving like a wave across the ballroom. Whatever had occurred, it required immediate attention.

  Neither of them questioned the decision. They simply moved in unison toward the scene, fighting their way through the throng of partygoers. When they reached her, Eleanor was on the floor, a gentleman kneeling beside her as Miss Ashworth looked on, frantically patting the back of Eleanor’s hand is if that would miraculously revive her.