A Duke’s Relentless Courting: A Clean & Sweet Regency Historical Romance Novel

by Leah Conolly

She read it over and over again, wondering what it could mean. Had Lord Beaumont written it? It was very sentimental, not at all what she would expect of him. But she did not want to read more into the note than had been intended. Lydia questioned why Eleanor had not mentioned it before. She was sure that she must have seen it.

  It was also likely that Eleanor was toying with her. Lydia decided she would go and see what her sister was up to.

  She stepped into the hallway, intending to go in search of her sister, but she was stopped by her father, who looked unusually cheerful.

  “Good day, Father, you look well today,” she said.

  He smiled at her and held up a letter. “I have just received the strangest letter,” he said. “Someone has sent us a generous sum of money.”

  “Who sent it?” she asked. She looked at the letter, trying to see if she could recognize the handwriting. She did not.

  “The letter is not signed. I cannot think who would do such a thing but it has come at just the right time. This will cover what we owe the doctor and the next few appointments, at least,” her father said triumphantly.

  “I am glad to hear it,” she said. Lydia felt a burden lift from her shoulders, but then it settled right back down again. She knew that her father still expected her to marry. They could not count on their anonymous donor, whoever they were, to send money again. Lydia would need to secure their futures with a good match.

  “I will go and tell Eleanor the good news,” she said. On her way to the library, she wondered about the timing of the funds.

  Was their mysterious benefactor Lord Beaumont? Lord Clarkson was a better candidate. This was not the first time her father had received funds from an anonymous person, but this sum was substantially larger than anything else they had received.

  Lydia knocked on her sister’s door and entered without waiting for an answer. Eleanor was sitting on her bed, her legs covered by a shawl. She had pulled the edge of the shawl off her toes and was trying to wiggle them.

  Lydia smiled. “Making any progress?” she asked as she sat on the edge of the bed.

  “A little. My right foot seems to be doing better than my left. Watch," she said and curled her right big toe halfway. Her left toes would not curl as far, but she was at least able to move them. It was more than she had been able to do a few months ago.

  “That’s splendid, Elle!” Lydia said. She was genuinely happy for her sister, but she knew she should not get her hopes up just yet. “I have some good news for once.” Lydia beamed.

  “Well, do tell, Sister,” Eleanor said.

  “Father has received a goodly sum of money,” Lydia said. She then lowered her voice in a mock conspiratorial tone. “Anonymous, of course.” She winked.

  “Really? Any idea who it might be from?” Eleanor asked.

  “I have my suspicions, but I will not spoil the joy of the gift with speculation,” she said. “How did you enjoy the book that Lord Beaumont lent us?”

  “I loved it,” Eleanor said, lighting up even more. “What part are you on?”

  Lydia came around to the other side of the bed and sat next to Eleanor, leaning up against the headboard. “The lady has been sent to the convent against her will, and the gentleman is doing everything he can to find her.”

  Eleanor smiled. “Oh, that’s when it gets really good. Have you gotten to the part where. . . Oh, well, never mind, I don’t want to spoil it for you.”

  Lydia was not sure if she was speaking of the note or the plot. She sat up and turned, so that she could better see her sister’s face and her reaction. “Did you find a note with a handwritten poem on it?” she asked.

  “Yes, the one by Wordsworth?” Eleanor said.

  “Exactly. What do you make of it?” Lydia asked.

  “I didn’t pay much attention to it. Why? Do you think it was placed there for you by Lord Beaumont?”

  “I don’t know. It’s a bit sentimental for him, but he was acting so strangely when he came into the shop and gave me the book. Do you think it was meant for me?”

  “I think you have Lord Beaumont so bewitched that he’s spouting sonnets,” Eleanor giggled. “I would not be surprised if he proposes within a fortnight.”

  Lydia pushed her playfully. “Stop it.” They shared a laugh. “I don’t know what to make of Lord Beaumont. At times he is so infuriating, and at other times he is sweet and caring. I don’t know which is the real man.”

  “I think both, Sister. I admit that I do not know much about love, but I have seen the way you look when you talk about him. He is a good match for you. I’m not only talking about his money; I’m talking about your mind. You need a man who can keep up with you in intellect.” Eleanor took her hand. “Please don’t marry Lord Brussels. I saw how bored you were with him when he came to call the other day. If he already bores you to tears now, imagine what spending your whole life with him would be like!”

  Lydia laughed. “Yes, I know. Lord Brussels is kind, but you are right about our minds not being equally matched. Lord Beaumont is stubborn and pigheaded and can be rude, but I think he has a softer side that people rarely get to see.”

  “He is a many-layered onion that you will have to peel,” Eleanor teased.

  “That does not sound inviting in the least.” Lydia laughed. She thought about the note again, sure that Lord Beaumont had sent it and had meant for her to find it. She smiled at the thought. For the first time, Lydia imagined what it would be like to be his wife. She blushed and hopped off the bed.

  “I have some more reading to do. Shall we go on our walk later?” Lydia asked.

  “It looks like rain, so I think I will stay in tonight. But you go, by all means,” Eleanor replied. Lydia patted her hand and left the room.

  She went to retrieve the book that Lord Beaumont had lent them, donned her cloak, and went to tell Maggie that she was ready to go. Lydia reread the note before tucking it into the back of the book. She smiled again. Perhaps she would have to give Lord Beaumont a chance after all.

  ***

  Lydia strolled in the park that evening, reading the last few chapters of the book. It was beautifully written, and she wondered if Lord Beaumont had read any of it before giving it to them. She laughed at the idea. He would not have been able to stomach one page of the book, let alone the entire thing.

  “Well, well. I do believe it is Lady Lydia.”

  Lydia turned to see Lady Diana Horn standing behind her. She was startled by the somewhat familiar tone, as they were not well acquainted. They curtsied, and their maids nodded to each other, taking a few steps back to give the ladies some privacy.

  “Lady Diana, how do you do?” Lydia asked.

  “I am well, thank you. And you?” Diana asked.

  “Very well, thank you,” she answered.

  “Are you alone? How sad,” Diana replied patronizingly. “Will you take a turn with me? It must be lonely to have no one to talk to.”

  “I am perfectly content to read my book, but I will take a turn with you if you wish,” Lydia said. Lady Diana linked arms with Lydia, and they began to walk along the gravel paths winding throughout the park.

  “I hear that you are to marry soon. May I offer you my congratulations?” Diana asked.

  Lydia sucked in a breath. How had Lady Diana heard that she was looking for a husband?

  “I am not engaged, as of yet,” Lydia replied, trying to give as little information as possible.

  “Really. I had heard that two gentlemen were courting you,” Diana went on. Lydia tried to release her arm from Lady Diana’s, but she had a tight grip on her.

  “I have had two gentlemen call on me, it is true.” Lydia stopped and pried her arm away from Diana. “But I cannot think what business it is of yours.”

  “We are in London, my dear Lady Lydia. No one has any secrets,” she retorted.

  “Well, you may not have any secrets, but I prefer to keep my personal life private,” Lydia said. She turned to leave.

  “I hear that Lor
d Beaumont is soon to make a proposal of his own,” Diana said, stopping Lydia in her tracks.

  “What are you implying?” Lydia asked. Her heart began to beat fast.

  “You do not care for him, do you? I must confess, he is a hard man to understand. But he happens to be mine,” she said in a low whisper.

  Her combative tone unsettled Lydia. She had never laid claim to Lord Beaumont's affections, not even to herself. Lady Diana had no right to accuse her of trying to steal Lord Beaumont away. The woman’s tone angered her.

  “I have never presumed to have a monopoly on Lord Beaumont's affections. Quite the contrary. He and I have only spoken on a few occasions. There is no understanding between us,” Lydia tried to assure her.

  “Of course not. Why would there be? You are but a penniless lady whose father’s fortune is in ruin,” Diana said.

  Lydia could feel the heat rising in her face. Diana had no right to talk about her family that way. “Do not ever speak about my father in that manner. I have nothing more to say to you, Lady Diana. Good day,” she said. She then turned and promptly left the woman standing in the middle of the path by herself. Maggie hurried after Lydia, trying her best to catch up, but Lydia did not slow again until she had reached their street.

  “My lady, are you alright?” Maggie asked when Lydia suddenly stopped. Tears were streaming down her face, and she wiped at them furiously.

  “No, I am not, Maggie, but there is nothing you can do for me,” she said.

  “She is jealous of you, my lady. Don’t listen to a word she said,” Maggie replied. Lydia looked into Maggie’s eyes and saw compassion there. She straightened.

  “Thank you, Maggie. You’ve cheered me up immensely,” Lydia replied. She gave Maggie a small smile.

  Maggie nodded. “If I may say so, my lady . . .,” she hesitated.

  “Yes?”

  “Well, it may be forward of me, but I think Lord Beaumont would be lucky to have you as his bride.”

  Chapter 15

  Christopher looked out of the window at the early morning light painting the landscape in a golden glow. He had been mulling over what Lady Baker might have thought of the verse he had written out for her to find. He felt that quoting Wordsworth was appropriate, as she was the romantic type.

  His tea and breakfast were brought in, and he ate quickly, eager to be on his way. He wanted to visit the bookshop again.

  His mother walked in at that moment, which surprised him. She was not usually up so early.

  “Good morning,” she greeted him.

  “Good morning, Mother. Why are you up so early?” he asked. He picked up his newspaper and pretended to read.

  “I have an engagement with Lady Diana this morning. Perhaps you would like to join me?” she asked. The maid poured her a cup of tea, and she looked over her cup with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

  “No, thank you, Mother. I have a busy day ahead,” Christopher replied, never taking his eyes off his newspaper.

  “Come now, Christopher. What can be more important than escorting your mother across town? You don’t know how unsafe the streets have become,” she pleaded.

  “You are quite safe in your carriage,” Christopher replied.

  “But I promised Lady Diana that you would be with me,” she whined.

  Christopher folded his newspaper and laid it aside. “I want to make something perfectly clear, once and for all. I do not like Lady Diana. I think she is shallow and cruel and superficial. I would not marry her if she were the last woman on earth.”

  He stood and made his way towards the door. When he reached his mother’s side, she said, “Going back to that shop again? You have been spending quite a lot of time there, I must say.”

  “That is no concern of yours,” Christopher said.

  “That Lady Lydia will not do, my son. You would do better to give her up before you get too ahead of yourself,” his mother said. He ignored her and continued out of the room.

  ***

  The owner’s daughter was standing at the counter when he arrived at Newton and Hughes. She smiled at him. He felt terrible for the way he had treated her at their last meeting.

  “Good day, my lord,” she began.

  “Good day, miss,” he said.

  “My name is Patricia,” she offered, without being asked.

  He smiled at her. “Miss Patricia. I wanted to apologize for my abruptness the other day. I hope you’ll forgive me,” he replied.

  “I’m used to it, Lord Beaumont. But never fear, I forgive you,” she said. “You’ll be happy to learn that several of your books have sold.”

  She went behind the counter and retrieved a small pouch filled with various coins. Patricia handed him the sack, and he smiled at her again.

  “Thank you, Miss Patricia,” he said, looking around the shop. Lady Lydia was nowhere to be seen.

  “She sent a note that she would not be able to come in today,” Patricia offered, knowing exactly whom he was looking for. “Would you like to leave a message for her?”

  “No.” He shook his head, disappointed. It had been over a week since he had last seen her. Did she still dislike him? “I’ll come again soon. Thank you, miss.”

  “You’re welcome, my lord.” She nodded as he walked out of the shop. “Lord Beaumont? Wait,” she said, coming out from behind the counter to meet him at the door.

  “Yes, what is it?” he asked.

  “Perhaps you would leave your address for Lady Lydia? She may like to write to you,” she asked.

  Christopher nodded. “Yes, I think I will leave it.”

  Patricia led him back inside and handed him a piece of paper, setting an inkwell in front of him.

  “Perhaps you would like to write to her yourself?” Patricia asked.

  “She has not given me permission to write to her. No, I will wait,” Christopher replied.

  Patricia nodded. “She will appreciate that when I tell her.”

  “Does she ever say anything about me?” he asked, feigning nonchalance. He looked up, having finished writing out his address.

  Patricia shook her head. “It would not do for me to reveal anything that was said to me in confidence. All I can tell you is what I have observed on my own,” Patricia said. He waited with bated breath for her to continue. “She would deny it, but I can see she likes you.”

  “Why would she deny it?” Christopher asked.

  “Lady Lydia does not always allow herself to consider her own emotions. I think it also has to do with the feeling that she does not deserve to be happy because of what happened to Lady Eleanor.”

  “What does her sister’s accident have to do with that?” Christopher asked.

  Patricia took a deep breath. “She blames herself for her sister’s accident. They were riding together, and Eleanor’s horse spooked. Lydia couldn’t calm the horse, and it threw her sister.”

  Christopher nodded. She had not mentioned any details about her sister’s accident. How awful for her.

  “But it wasn’t her fault,” he said.

  “Of course not. But she still takes responsibility for it. And now, well . . .”

  “What?” he asked.

  “It’s not my place, my lord. All I can say is, it would be best if you would speak to her as soon as possible.”

  Christopher nodded. “Thank you very much, Miss Patricia.”

  “Shall we see you tomorrow, then?” she asked as he walked back to the front door.

  “Of course,” he said and walked out of the shop.

  ***

  Christopher sat atop a magnificent black stallion, riding at top speed through Osterley Park later that afternoon. He found that a ride always helped him clear his head and brought his thoughts back into perspective.

  Lady Lydia was becoming an ever-increasing intruder in his mind. If only he could see her, perhaps he might put some of his fears to rest? She might at least say that she did not care to be courted by him.

  If she did have feelings for him
, he wanted to declare himself. He had felt a sense of urgency ever since his conversation with Patricia.

  What had she meant? Was Lady Lydia about to become engaged to someone else? He wished now that he had gotten her home address. It would make him feel so much better if he could write to her.

  Suddenly, he saw the object of his thoughts walking in the park. She was pushing her sister ahead of her in the wheelchair, listening as Eleanor read aloud. He steered the horse towards the girls and dug in his heels.