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

by Leah Conolly

  Christopher neared them at a gallop, and the girls looked frightened for a moment, before they realized who was coming their way.

  “Hello, Lord Beaumont!” Eleanor greeted him. “How nice to see you!”

  He dismounted and led his horse over to the girls. He glanced at Lydia, but she would not meet his gaze.

  “It is a pleasure to see you again, Lady Eleanor. I trust you are well?” he asked. He glanced at Lady Lydia once more. She was staring off into the distance.

  “I am well, thank you for asking,” Eleanor replied. He did not take his eyes off Lydia.

  “And you, Lady Lydia? Are you well?” he asked.

  She finally deigned to look at him, “I am, thank you,” she replied softly.

  Eleanor nodded at their maid. “Maggie, I would like to see the pond,” she instructed.

  “I will take you, Eleanor. Good day, Lord Beaumont,” Lydia said, dismissing him.

  “Nonsense. You stay. I would like a moment to myself,” Eleanor said. Maggie took Lydia’s spot behind the wheelchair, and Lydia walked a few paces away, her back turned to him.

  He followed and stopped a few feet from her. She would not turn around. “May I ask after the health of your father?” he asked, not knowing what else to say.

  “He is well,” she said. She finally turned around. “I hope your family is well?”

  This small talk was maddening. He wished they could be natural as they had been in the tearoom. “Yes, thank you,” he responded. He turned his hat in his hands. He was nervous, wondering what she was thinking, but he could not read her today.

  “I have your book here, as it happens,” Lady Lydia said and brought out the small green volume from beneath her cloak.

  “Ah, good. How do you like it?” he asked. His heart swelled with hope.

  “It was wonderful. Eleanor and I both enjoyed it very much,” she said. But she was not smiling.

  “I am glad to hear it,” he said. He took the book from her and looked down at its gilded letters on the cover. “Did you find anything interesting in its pages?”

  She blushed slightly. “I found an old bookmark, as a matter-of-fact, with a poem by Wordsworth written on it. Did you know it was there?”

  He fumbled around, wondering how to cover his tracks. He felt like a fool now for leaving the note for her. He should have been more direct with his message.

  “Ah, no. I did not. How interesting,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said. “It made me wonder who had read the book last. Perhaps it was used as a vehicle to pass love notes back and forth between forbidden lovers,” she said.

  He laughed at the absurdity of the notion but quickly stopped. She was not enjoying his company.

  “Well, thank you for returning the book. If I should find any more that I think might interest you, may I bring them to you?” he asked.

  “I’m sure Eleanor would enjoy that. We have read all the books in our limited library,” she said.

  He noticed that she said Eleanor would enjoy them. Perhaps that meant that she did not want any more notes passed to her through the books. He let his gaze fall to the ground.

  “So be it,” he said softly. He mounted his steed and nodded. “Good day, Lady Lydia.”

  “Good day,” she said.

  He rode away, more sad than angry at how events had unfolded. He had been so looking forward to hearing her response to the love poem, but it proved that she had not even realized it had been from him.

  When he was a hundred yards away, he pulled his horse to a halt and patted the stallion’s neck. He looked back at Lady Lydia, now standing with her sister at the pond. She glanced in his direction and then quickly turned her gaze away.

  “Why does love have to be so hard?” he muttered to himself.

  Chapter 16

  The next morning, Lydia walked into the shop feeling downcast. She felt guilty and disappointed about her conversation with Lord Beaumont. She had been so curious about the note and whether he had been the one to write it, but he had obviously not been its author. She wondered if he actually cared about her at all. She did not have time to play games. She had to find a husband, and soon.

  "What are you so upset about this morning?" Patricia asked. She came around the corner and helped her friend take off her cloak.

  "I had a visit from Lord Beaumont yesterday," Lydia began. "Well, not really a visit. We ran into each other during our walk."

  Patricia perked up at this news. "What did he say?"

  Lydia sighed. "I gave him back the book that he had loaned to Eleanor and me. He seemed disappointed, but for the life of me, I cannot understand why."

  Patricia grinned." He likes you. Even I can see it. It's as plain as the nose on your face. You're the only one who's refusing to believe it."

  Lydia followed Patricia into the heart of the shop and began picking up books. "But he is so veiled. I cannot make out what he is thinking or if he even cares for me. I must admit, I have thought about what it would be like to be courted by him. . ."

  When she did not continue, Patricia prodded, "But?"

  "But what if he becomes the rude, arrogant man that I thought him to be from the very first? I could not abide a man like that. Not for the rest of my life. And I need to marry soon."

  This was the first that Patricia had heard of Lydia having to marry quickly. "What do you mean you must marry soon? What is going on, Lydia?"

  Lydia sighed. She had not told her friend of her predicament, wishing to spare Patricia from worry, but it was too late to shield her now.

  "My father has asked that I find a husband to save us from financial ruin. Eleanor's doctors are so expensive. You know I love my father, but he has not been the best at handling the estate. If I do not marry well, we are ruined, and I cannot allow Eleanor to lose her treatment. We have come so far."

  Patricia could see that Lydia was in distress and gave her a hug. "I understand. I know that my father will ask the same of me in a few years. But you at least can have your pick of eligible bachelors with handsome fortunes. You are so beautiful, Lydia, and have such a sweet disposition. Any man would be lucky to have you as his wife," she said. Lydia nodded doubtfully, knowing that Patricia was only trying to help, but the more Lydia thought of it, the more she knew that she didn't want just anyone. She wanted Lord Beaumont.

  The realization startled her. She had not been willing to admit it, even to herself, until now. But she feared that it was too late. She had brushed him aside and kept him at a distance, so that she would not have her heart broken.

  "You should write to him. He left his address for you the other day. I'm sorry, I should have brought it to your house when you did not come to the shop." Patricia went to the counter and looked under a pile of books and papers, pushing things aside until she found the small scrap of paper she was looking for. "Here it is," she said, holding it up proudly.

  Lydia's heart began to beat faster as Patricia handed her the paper. She noticed the handwriting was very similar to the script she had seen on the scrap of paper in the book Lord Beaumont had lent to her. She sucked in a breath. He had written the note! She was almost sure of it now. But why had he lied about it? He had said nothing during their conversation the previous day. Perhaps he was too shy to reveal himself?

  "Thank you, I will think about it. Perhaps you are right. I should give him a chance," she replied.

  Just then, the bell over the door rang, and they both turned to see Lady Diana coming into the shop. Lydia instantly felt nervous. Her last run-in with Lady Horn had not been a pleasant one.

  "Service, please," she said briskly, placing her gloved hands on the counter. Lydia imagined her sprouting a pair of horns on either side of her head as if she were a villain from one of the Brothers Grimm stories. A very fitting daydream, given her name.

  "Yes, of course," Patricia said with a smile. She came around the opposite side of the counter and folded her hands in front of her. "What may I help you with, my lady?"


  Lydia went about shelving books while Patricia assisted Lady Horn. She had no desire to speak with the woman if she did not have to.

  "I would like to purchase Lord Christopher Beaumont’s work," she replied haughtily.

  Lydia perked up at the mention of Lord Beaumont's name.

  "Yes, my lady. Here are all the works we have of his, but I believe you have already purchased copies of all these books. He has not given us anything new yet," Patricia explained.

  "I know that, girl. I want to buy all the books he has in stock. Don't you listen?" Lady Horn asked harshly.

  "You want to purchase everything we have in stock by Lord Beaumont?" Patricia asked.

  "Yes, of course. That's what I've been saying. Aren't you listening? Is there someone else I can speak to, with the intelligence to understand what I am asking?"

  Lydia slammed the books she was holding on the table and went to the front. Lady Diana sneered at her.

  "Ah, how fitting," Lady Diana said.

  "What is so fitting, pray tell?" Lydia said.

  "That you should be here. This is the perfect place for a lady to spend her time—among dusty, old books that no one cares for," she replied, a smug smile on her face.

  Patricia placed the rest of Lord Beaumont's books on the counter, a total of three books with multiple copies of each. "These are all the copies we have left of Lord Beaumont's works, my lady."

  “It's about time. Please put it on my father's bill," she directed. She motioned for her maid to carry the heavy volumes to the carriage. There were about thirty books on the counter.

  Lydia was seething but said nothing. She came to stand beside Patricia behind the counter.

  When her maid came in for the last of the books, Lady Diana turned to the two of them, not even bothering to curtsey. "Good day, Lydia. Your title is wasted on you," she said and promptly turned to leave the shop. Lydia was about to say something in return, but Patricia placed a hand on her arm to stop her.

  "She is still a customer, Lydia. And a jealous one, at that," she cautioned. But Lydia could tell that Patricia was angry as well. They watched Lady Diana climb into the carriage through the front windows.

  Lydia turned, and Patricia followed her to the back of the shop. Lydia started slamming books down as she organized them.

  "What does she wish to accomplish with her little game? Lord Beaumont won't take kindly to her buying all his works, making him think that they're selling. And her father will be none too pleased, either. How many times has she come in here doing that?"

  "This is her third visit in the last two weeks," Patricia said. "She has run up quite a sum on her father's account," she giggled mischievously. "I imagine she will have her allowance capped if she keeps this up."

  They shared a laugh and went about shelving books again. Lydia couldn’t help wondering if perhaps it would be worth writing to Lord Beaumont just to spite Lady Diana.

  ***

  Diana arrived home, seething from her conversation with Lady Lydia. She could not seem to escape the woman who so clearly had designs on Lord Beaumont. Diana knew she needed to find a way to destroy her rival’s reputation, once and for all.

  "Take those into the house and be quick about it," she told her maid.

  "Shall I put them in your room, my lady?"

  "No, take them to the library and put them in the box with the others," Diana replied.

  "Yes, my lady," the maid said. One of the footmen came out and started helping her cart the many books into the library.

  "Where is the viscountess?" Diana asked the butler as she entered.

  "In the parlor, my lady," he said.

  "Thank you." She dropped her cloak into his hands and made her way to the parlor.

  Her mother looked up as she entered, setting down her needlepoint. "Where have you been this morning?"

  "I went to the bookshop to purchase the rest of Lord Beaumont's work as you instructed."

  "And why are you in such a dreadful mood?"

  "The high-and-mighty Lady Lydia was there. I swear she is everywhere. I assume she is trying to secure Lord Beaumont’s fortune, as well. How I detest her."

  "What have I always told you, my dear? You must undermine with a smiling face. Keep her close. Pretend to be her friend, all the while finding her weaknesses." Her mother motioned the maid to pour some tea, and Diana accepted it gladly.

  "I have probably already damaged any chance of that beyond repair," Diana said.

  "You must try. Apologize to her the next time you see her and take her into your confidence. Then use what you find out against her. It is the simplest skill to learn and an invaluable one," her mother said, coming to sit next to her.

  "How can I do that, Mother? I can't stand her," Diana said.

  "What have I been teaching you all this time? You must conceal your true feelings. Remember, the prize is Lord Beaumont. You must get rid of all obstacles, whatever the cost."

  Chapter 17

  "Christopher, you know I am on your side when it comes to the question of your marriage. However, your mother is driving me mad. Please consider finding a bride soon, or I will have to permanently live in the countryside to avoid her ongoing drama," Victor pleaded. He took a sip of his morning tea and rolled his eyes heavenward.

  Christopher laughed, looking over his newspaper at his stepfather. His mother had not appeared yet, so the breakfast table had been blessedly quiet that morning. She was being even more overbearing than usual.

  "I will take your suggestion under advisement," he said. "But I may have to join you in the country if I am not able to find a bride in a timely manner."

  "Good. So long as your mother stays here," Victor said with a chuckle. "We are invited to Lord Hawthorne's estate tomorrow. I expect you will be there."

  His mother walked in at that precise moment and looked at Christopher with expectation. "What is this?"

  Christopher ignored her and turned back to Victor. "Yes, I will be there."

  "Oh, that's wonderful news," his mother gushed. She came to sit next to Victor, prattling on about how incredibly fortunate it would be for them to visit the Hawthornes together.

  "I suggest you wear the . . .," his mother began, but Christopher promptly excused himself before she could begin picking his wardrobe for him. He left without giving her a second glance.

  He made his way to his study and began to write. He had finally been able to break through his writer's block, thanks to his encounter with Lady Lydia.

  She was just the sort of woman that he could imagine being married to. He loved her quick wit and rebellious nature. She had a sweet and compassionate side as well, as was evidenced by the care she took of her sister.

  About an hour later, a knock sounded at the door. He rolled his eyes, hoping it was not his mother coming to advise him on what he should wear to the Hawthornes’ house party. "Yes!" he called testily.

  "A letter for you, my lord." One of the footmen came in and held out a small silver tray atop which a letter rested.

  He took it and thanked him. He opened it when the footman had gone. His heart immediately jumped into his throat when he saw who it was from: Lady Lydia!

  He read as if the letter was water and he a man dying of thirst.

  Dear Lord Beaumont,

  Miss Newton gave me your address. I do apologize that it has taken me so long to write, but I have not been in the shop since you left it.

  I so enjoyed the book you lent to my sister and me. It is a welcome change to read a new book occasionally. We do not enjoy that luxury, as we have a very small library here in town.

  I realize now that it was you who left the poem by Wordsworth in the book. I'm sorry that I was so dense, but I did not want to presume. Why did you not tell me that you had left it in the book?

  I hope I am not too forward in asking, but Eleanor and I would be honored if you would call on us one of these afternoons. If you have any other books that you think Eleanor might enjoy, I pray your indulgence in bri
nging her one or two. I will read them with her on our walks.

  I would also very much like it if you would write to me.

  Sincerely,

  Lady Lydia Baker

  Christopher reread the letter, feeling as though he must have dreamt the whole thing. But no. There was her signature at the bottom. He did not know why she was suddenly opening up to him, but he was thankful for her change of heart. He took out a sheet of clean paper and started writing to her then and there.

  Dear Lady Lydia,

  Thank you for your letter. I am glad you and your sister enjoyed the book. I will look around the library and see if I might find something to your liking and bring it with me when I come to call.