The Beastkeeper's Bride

The Anxious Hearts Series:

🌑 Book 1: The Beastkeeper’s Bride

🌒 Book 2: The Dragon’s Match

🌓 Book 3: The Beastkeeper’s Redemption

🌔 Book 4: The Beastkeeper’s Temptation (ongoing)

The books do not have to be read in order and can be read as standalones. There is an overarching plot throughout each narrative and some elements may be best understood if you do read them as a series, but it is not necessary.

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Author’s Note

Wonderful readers.

Once upon a time, when I was tiny and precocious, in order to shut me up and keep me entertained, my much older sister would take me out into the garden and we would hunt for faeries. I told her faeries were lame and stupid, so I hunted for dragons instead. Anyway, I’ve always loved fantasy novels, so here’s mine. It may not be your cup of tea, which is perfectly alright! But it is a fantasy/historical romance. Heavy emphasis on the romance, of course, with some (probably a lot) of bow chicka wow wow.

That being said, here are a few warnings. I found historical romance because I didn’t get enough steam from fantasy novels, so here we are. My main drive will always be to the two MCs getting together and getting it on, though this book will have a lot of plot driving it forward to get the premise going. Bear with, I promise that they do eventually meet!

There will be magical creatures, from my own devising and from Celtic mythology- my main draw for some elements- and gorgeous men (duh). There’s a few tropes and twists, and of course a whole lotta love.

Millie is going to go through a bit, but she’ll be alright. There are some darker themes to this story, which I am sure you’ll pick up on soon enough. Chapter 2 + 3, however, deal with a bit of abuse (sensitively, though it is there), keep this in mind if you find this content triggering.

Lastly, I hope you enjoy this weird little universe that has been forming in my mind for quite a few years. There will be humour, and adventure, and all sorts of conflicts, but hey. It’s a journey.

Love,

Ash x

P.S. This is probably my roughest draft of the manuscript as I haven't invested much time in editing. I'll get round to it when I am a) finished with my historicals getting published and b) rich and famous (jokes- just rich) ❤

1: Mrs Addilyn’s Anxious Hearts Society

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

London, 1841

“Look,” Addilyn Sybil Heatherington told the faerie with as much patience as she could muster, “you are simply not compatible, and I mean no offence by it.”

The tiny creature appeared to become livid at the news, brandishing leaflike hands angrily at the wooden tablet it was currently standing upon. There was a caricature of a girl underneath his frantically shuffling, spindly bark legs, hastily sketched to exaggeration to provide an idea of her appearance without revealing the identity of the client entirely. However, due to this fae’s tiny stature and the inability of Addy’s very human ears to interpret the high-pitched squawking he was emitting, she was unable to decipher a word the poor thing was saying. Or trying to.

She sighed.

It had been a long day... and it was only minutes past noon.

“With all due respect, Mr-” She glanced down at the creature’s profile pamphlet clipped to the tablet that was in her hands. Lord, there was no way she’d be able to pronounce that name without causing offence and that was the last thing her business needed presently. X’aixt. Suddenly, she regretted her insistence that the Others complete their applications using their given names and not include the human names they were documented with. “Mr X.” She gave him a calming smile. “The young lady before you has specified a certain taste and I have my doubts you would be a viable suit.”

The fae paused at that and cocked his vividly green head to the side, his feathery antennae dancing gracefully with the movement.

It would not take a translator to determine what that gesture meant, so Addy ploughed on. “You see,” she continued, steepling her fingers together while she rested her elbows on the darkly polished wooden desk in her study, “it is merely a matter of compatibility. I am afraid the dear lady you favour is human and quite a lot taller than yourself.”

The faerie began to squeak wrathfully again in that vague, unintelligible language Addy could not identify, stamping his food over the poor lady’s caricature. Well, she supposed she could truly be flattered by his insistence. However, Addy was well aware than no human girl would contrive of a match with one of the Flora Fae, one of the Pigwidgeon types, especially one that was no more than three inches tall.

“I shall cut you a deal,” Addy was hasty to say, hopefully alleviating the angst of one of her clients. She could hardly afford to lose the poor little fellow and she made a silent mental note to broaden her reach into the parklands and forests to hopefully engage more of the fae- and other creatures- more suitable to this specie’s stature. “I am simply going to wipe the slate clean and renew your tablet subscription at no extra charge. You will be able to peruse your candidates from start to finish.” She made a sweeping gesture with her wrist, beaming widely. “And once you’ve made three more connections, we will meet again to discuss the plausibility that one is mutual.”

The creature was clearly put out, evidenced by the tiny pout crinkling his corroded face and the firm crossing of arms against his chest. However, he seemed to acquiesce with a sullen nod, hefted the bulky tablet under his arm, and promptly flitted out her office.

The breath left her with a whoosh and she slumped back against her chair, splaying her hands against the smooth, cool wood of her desk on either side of her own tablet. They had said she was mad to conceive of such a business, a matchmaking scheme among human and Other alike, and she was beginning to think that maybe ‘they’ were right.

They being every human friend in her acquaintance circle- every banker, loaner, and any other semi-intelligent being capable of stringing a coherent sentence together- to ever cross her path thought it was a laughable endeavour.

Her business venture was turning out to be a monumental failure.

Since its origins six months prior not a single match had been made successfully, not a single wedding coordinated by cause of her dutiful machinations and endless sweat and hard work. Not one!

One would think with the pool of choices available to men and women alike since The Reveal all those years ago that such a concept would be well-received to mend the obstacles and barriers such a convolution of different societies and creatures posed. Perhaps prejudice and bias would continue to prevail, and her notion was absurd, though what choice did she have but to push forward?

All she needed was one success. One good, heart-warming story, a connection between one of England’s elites and... hell, anything, really. At this point, she’d happily attempt to match a gargoyle with someone if it meant at least one successful match- and that would make the rounds at the printing offices, and at least then she would have a name, a story, a start.

“You look as if you need a drink,” Finn said, dropping a tumbler of whiskey beside her right hand.

Bless him. “I do.” Addilyn shifted and cradled the welcome liquid between her fingers, tentatively bringing the rim of the glass to her nose and sniffing. It was not the best quality- she could by no means afford it at this rate- but it would suffice. She gave Finn a sidelong glance, noting that he had taken up his usual spot against the side of the window that overlooked the busy street below. “Am I an idiot?”

Startled, he considered her sharply before taking a sip from his own drink. Remarkably nonchalant and cavalier with one hand embedded deeply inside the pocket of his tan coloured, finely seamed trousers, Finnegan Holt did not appear perturbed in the slightest to be part of a business that was days away from bankrupting. “I do not think so,” he mused.

“You may not think so, but it is quite clear I may very well be.”

His grin curled his lips almost secretively and he turned back to gaze out the window. There was a lambent orange haze surrounding the atmosphere outside the city, from what she could see, and the hubbub of traffic was muted from their elevated position on the second floor of the townhouse she was renting. Though for how much longer, she couldn’t be certain.

“As you well know, Miss Heatherington, I am in no position to judge.”

Addy stifled her smile and focused on the tablet before her. Finn was charming, hopelessly so. It came so naturally to him that people were unwittingly compelled to trust him, to their own detriment. She was lucky she had identified this quality about him as quickly as she did, before somebody else had, and used it to her advantage.

He was as good of a fake husband as any, unbelievably so, and played the role brilliantly for a pitiful sum of pounds a month. Of course, he more often than not lost it at a gambling table the very same night he received it, but what he did with his wages was hardly any of Addy’s business. He provided her a service, a very convincing one at that, and had become somewhat of a tentative friend in the interim.

“Well, the truth of it, Mr Holt, is that we may not be in business for very much longer.” As if resolute, she tossed back the burning liquid from the glass he had placed before her, steeling herself against her next words. “We need a match, a notable one, and I appear to be the worst matchmaker London has ever seen.”

If Finn agreed, he made no sound of assent. Rather he swirled the liquid in his own glass thoughtfully as his gaze remained fixed on the street below the window of the townhouse they shared. “Have our clientele included the ranks of rancid street urchins of late?” he said, his voice edged with light curiosity.

She frowned at him. “What the deuce are you talking about?”

When he turned his gaze upon her once more, Finn hid his smirk against the rim of the glass as he tipped it to his lips. His mysterious silence plagued her though she knew well enough he used it as a means to taunt her or tease her, provoking a reaction so as to ward her away from more troubling thoughts. Well, at least that is what he would do in the past.

Presently, it seemed, a large commotion ensued from downstairs. The sound of the front door crashing open careened through the house, quickly succeeded by the thump of heavy footfalls on the landing. There was no butler or footman to announce visitors, Lord knew she could not afford to pay any staff a fair wage, so guests were left to wander through the townhouse and find their way to her ‘office’ by means of hastily scribbled wordings on pieces of parchment that were subsequently taped to walls and railings.

When the doors to her study were pushed open, Finn’s words suddenly made sense.

What stood before them was so filthy its gender could hardly be distinguished let alone its species, though after careful examination Addy spied the tight leather corset that cinched about the creature’s waist, emphasizing a decidedly feminine figure. Beside her, Finn made a sound of disgust and pressed a handkerchief to his nose, evidently overwhelmed by the stench the specimen had dragged in with her. The man had a decidedly delicate nose, often overwhelmed with scents long before Addilyn caught a whiff.

A layer of grime and what she could only hope was dirt and mud caked every surface of the girl’s body, her hair matted to her scalp and possibly infested with all variety of vermin. The thought made her shudder though she steadfastly prevented her revulsion to meet her features, schooling her face into a practised visage of openness and genuine curiosity.

Never let it be said that Mrs Addilyn’s Anxious Hearts Society did not welcome all forms of life, no matter how down and out of their luck they appeared.

“Hello, dear,” she began pleasantly, a beatific smile plastered to her face even as Finn stiffened in her peripherals, his hand dropping from his nose.

“Addy-”

“How may I help you today?” she persevered, ignoring what she thought was aversion in his hushed tone.

As she stared at the grime covered urchin before her, a heavy and thick silence descended over the chamber, even as Finn came stand behind her and dropped his hand to her shoulder, squeezing gently. It was then that Addilyn noticed the iceberg-coloured eyes of the creature before her, shining abnormally bright through the brown layers that caked its skin, and then she knew, even before the urchin, still resolutely silent- lurched forward and scrabbled with a piece of loose parchment abandoned on the desk separating them and scribed something with graceless haste upon it.

Smeared, with writing that was barely legible, Addy read the words that would change her life even as her heart hitched and doubled in pace.

I am the lost Duchess of Ravensfield.