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

by Leah Conolly

  When she walked into the dining room, there was a letter waiting for her.

  My dearest Lady Lydia,

  I cannot tell you how much I enjoyed last night. This is the only way I can think of to express what I am feeling.

  “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?

  It is the east, and Lydia is the sun. . .”

  I thought you might like this quote, even though it was very hard for me to pen. Too romantic for me. But it seems you have turned me into a budding romantic.

  Yours,

  Lord Christopher Beaumont

  Lydia smiled. It was indeed very romantic to be likened to Juliet. She went to her writing desk, sat down, and took out a sheet of paper to answer him.

  Dear Lord Christopher,

  I am an admirer of Romeo and Juliet. Perhaps not as big an admirer as my sister, but I do find the play enjoyable. I have always wondered what it would be like to die for love. Did Juliet take her romantic sensibilities too far? I think so. I hope I am not as dramatic as she.

  “’For only the dead have seen the end of war,’ as Plato so eloquently states. I think you would agree that love feels like a war sometimes. At least, it has for me. But marriage and love are not the same things, are they? Not always. One must be very lucky to find both.

  But I am rambling. I will close now before I bore you to tears,

  Yours,

  Lady Lydia Baker

  She folded the letter after it had dried and affixed a seal. She went down to the library to let her father know that she was going out.

  "Another letter for Lord Beaumont?" he asked with a mischievous grin.

  She laughed. "Yes, Father." She closed the door and made her way to the drawing-room. When she entered the room, she expected to see Eleanor sitting in her usual spot by the window, but Lydia was pleasantly surprised to see her sister with a gentleman. The maid was sitting in a corner, catching up on some mending.

  "Good morning, Eleanor," Lydia said. She came into the room, and the gentleman stood and turned. He was very handsome, with bright blue eyes and dark blonde hair. He looked to be no more than nineteen, but he was surely older than he appeared, having attained the rank of Colonel.

  "Good morning, Lydia. May I present Colonel Samuel Jacobs?"

  He bowed. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Lydia. Lady Eleanor and I talked at great length yesterday evening about your merits as a sister." He smiled.

  "The pleasure is mine, Colonel Jacobs. I have heard how you gallantly saved my sister from an evening of boredom," Lydia said.

  "I would not put it so strongly. I enjoyed myself immensely," he replied. He only had eyes for Eleanor. "I would do it again in a heartbeat, for the rest of my life."

  They both blushed, and Lydia decided to take her leave. She said her goodbyes, and she told her own maid that she was going out. They set out for the book shop a few moments later and were soon walking through the shop door.

  "Patricia!" she called happily.

  Her friend appeared a few seconds later, popping her head out from behind a bookshelf. She was standing a few rungs up on the ladder.

  "I'll be down directly," she called back. When she dismounted, she met Lydia at the counter.

  "Is your father here today? Would you like to take a walk with me? It is such a lovely morning," Lydia asked.

  "He is. I will tell him that I’m stepping out for some air," Patricia replied.

  Patricia sighed as they walked out into the sunshine, the birds chirping as they passed.

  "You seem very sprightly after the ball last night. How was it?" Patricia asked.

  "It was lovely. Lord Beaumont was the perfect gentleman, so kind and attentive. We danced all night and strolled on the portico when we were not. I think there is something there," Lydia said.

  "I am so happy for you," Patricia said.

  Lydia looked over at her friend, who also had the look of love about her. She was unable to stop smiling.

  "It seems that cupid's arrow has pricked you too?" Lydia asked.

  Patricia colored. "I admit that I too have an admirer, but he has not made himself known, as of yet."

  Lydia linked arms with her. "Tell me immediately. Has he been leaving letters for you?"

  "Not exactly. Someone has been leaving bouquets of flowers around the shop. I cannot fathom who it is." Patricia smiled.

  Lydia let her mouth hang open in surprise. "How long has this been going on?" she asked.

  "A few weeks."

  "And you didn't think to tell me?!" Lydia exclaimed. But she was happy for her friend.

  "I didn't want to seem as if I were boasting. I know you have been so worried about finding a husband and dealing with the pressure from your father. I did not want to seem insensitive."

  "My dear friend, what a treasure you are. Your happiness is my happiness. For what it's worth, my father is not pressuring me into marriage with Lord Beaumont. I would like to be his wife very much," she confessed. "He is different now. More sensitive, softer. At least, with me.”

  "I am glad of that. He has even been kind to me the last few times he has been in the shop. I don't know what happened to him in the past to make him so unforgiving, but it seems you are a good influence on him," Patricia replied.

  "He lost his father when he was only eight. Death changes us all, especially when you lose someone so young. I know it changed Eleanor and me. At least we had each other to cling to. Lord Beaumont had no one until his mother married Lord Clarkson," Lydia explained. She did not feel she had to defend Lord Beaumont, but she knew what it was like to lose a parent at such a young age. Patricia did not.

  "Yes, you are right. You have a calming influence on him, I think. He seems to not take life so seriously as he once did," Patricia noticed.

  "I agree. He seems able to enjoy life more now. You should have seen him at the ball. I did not think he even knew how to dance, but he is a wonderful dancer!" Lydia exclaimed. "I did not think it possible, but he has turned into just the kind of man I always saw myself marrying."

  Lydia blushed slightly. She was not one to easily share her feelings. She had had to protect herself ever since she was a child and be strong for her sister.

  But she felt a whole new world opening up to her. She felt, for the first time, that she was able to be herself. Perhaps she might not have to be the strong one all the time, after all?

  They turned back to the book shop, trying to guess who the mysterious “flower-leaver” might be.

  Patricia wore a bright red blush as Lydia tried to guess, going through various names of the men who frequented the shop.

  "Really, Lydia! You will embarrass me so much that I will not be able to concentrate on my work!"

  "Who has time to work when one is in love?" Lydia shot back.

  Patricia opened the door to the shop, laughing as she did so. But her laughter immediately died as she came face to face with a customer.

  "Lord Brussels! How good to see you," she replied. "I am sorry. I told my father I was stepping out. Have you been helped?" she asked.

  She went to the counter and assumed a professional demeanor. Lord Brussels cleared his throat, and it was only then that Lydia saw he was holding a small bouquet of flowers behind his back. She bit her lower lip to keep from grinning and giving him away.

  "No, thank you, Miss Newton. I will just browse for a moment," he replied. He turned down one of the aisles and disappeared from sight.

  Lydia came to the counter and smiled, "Well, Patricia. I will leave you to it," she replied. "Let me know if you have another visit from your secret admirer."

  "I will," Patricia whispered. Lydia walked out of the shop with her maid, feeling even happier for knowing that Lord Brussels was the mysterious “flower-leaver.” He and Patricia would be well suited. She walked home with a bounce in her step.

  "It seems that we are all finding love," she said to herself.

  Chapter 21

  Christopher rubbed his temples as his mothe
r railed at him the morning after the ball. Apparently, Lady Baker was not a suitable choice for a wife.

  His request that his mother desist her intrusions into his personal life had gone unheeded. He should not have been surprised. But the fact that she was still talking was giving him a headache.

  "Mother, enough, please," he said. "We are not engaged. We are not even close to marriage. I would simply like to get to know her better."

  "But, my dear boy, is that wise?" she continued. "After all, it is not fair on her. . ."

  "You do not care for Lady Baker's well-being. You only care about your own opinions," he replied. A quiet knock sounded. "Yes?!" he called.

  Florence opened the door, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Finally, an ally. Tell Mother to stop haranguing me and do something useful."

  "My lady, your dressmaker is here," Florence announced.

  "My dressmaker? I did not think I had an appointment today," his mother said, frowning.

  "I know, I made one for you," Florence replied dryly. A smile played at the corners of Christopher's mouth. If anything could distract his mother from invading his personal affairs, it was fashion and shopping.

  "Why are the two of you against me?" she whimpered.

  "We are not against you, my lady," Florence replied.

  "Do you plan to pay Lord Baker's debts, then?" his mother continued. Florence rolled her eyes heavenward after turning her back so that his mother could not see.

  "I have sent some money anonymously already. But that does not mean I intend to pay all his debts," Christopher replied. "Lady Baker and her family are in need. Her sister has been through a great tragedy, and her doctors are expensive."

  "So, that is all? You have no romantic feelings for the girl?" his mother asked. "I applaud your compassion, my son. But you cannot mistake compassion for passion. I understand that you feel for Lady Baker’s unfortunate situation. But that does not mean you should marry the girl!"

  Christopher was boiling with anger. But instead of verbally tearing his mother to shreds, he simply stood and left the study.

  He found his stepfather hiding out in the small library. Victor put a finger to his lips and motioned him in.

  "Sit down, sit down!" he whispered. Christopher hurriedly closed the door, and they both held their breath, as they heard Christopher's mother passing by, chattering to Florence. They both breathed a sigh of relief when she was gone.

  "Oh, Victor. I don't know how you do it," Christopher said, rubbing his tired eyes.

  "Proverbs 25:24," was all Victor said in reply. He was staring at the ceiling, his hands folded over his chest.

  "I beg your pardon?" Christopher said with a laugh.

  "It's the one that says, 'it's better to sleep on the corner of a roof than share a house with a nagging wife.' Or words to that effect," Victor replied.

  Christopher nodded. "How true. Well, she was not always this way."

  "I know, my boy. I can only hope she will one day again be the sweet and docile woman she once was. Perhaps when you marry and give us some grandchildren, she will calm down a little?"

  Christopher laughed again. "One can only hope."

  ***

  Later that afternoon, Christopher decided to call on Lydia and invite her to a play. The London Theater was performing A Midsummer Night’s Dream. He thought it would be a perfect opportunity for them to spend some time together, while she experienced something she loved.

  The maid opened the door and showed him into the parlor, where the ladies were sitting down to tea.

  "What impeccable timing, Lord Beaumont. You will join us, of course?" Lydia asked.

  "I will, thank you," he said. He sat down on the sofa next to Lydia. "I must admit, I have come with a purpose."

  "Oh? And what is that?" asked Eleanor.

  "I have come to ask if you both might accompany me to a play on Friday evening? And I hear that you have made the acquaintance of a gentleman, Lady Eleanor. Perhaps he would like to join us, as well?" Christopher asked.

  Both girls lit up. "That would be lovely, Lord Beaumont. Thank you," Lady Lydia replied.

  "I'll send a note to Colonel Jacobs this afternoon and invite him. I'm sure he would be most happy to join us," Eleanor replied. "I'll go now, actually, if neither of you mind?"

  "Not at all," Christopher replied. Lydia nodded as Eleanor's maid wheeled her out of the room. Her own maid sat quietly in the corner, sipping a cup of tea, and catching up on some mending.

  Lady Lydia smiled. "Thank you for inviting Eleanor. She has not been to the theater since before her accident. It will be a real treat for her."

  "I hope it will be a treat for you, as well. I'm assuming that if she has not been to the theater, then you have not been either?" Christopher speculated.

  "I have been a few times with friends. But I am looking forward to going with you. What shall we be seeing?" she asked.

  "A Midsummer Night's Dream. I thought you and Eleanor would enjoy that one," he replied.

  "You are correct. I have never seen it on the stage. I’ve only read the play." Lady Lydia shook her head. "Once when Eleanor and I were younger, we tried to stage it ourselves during a particularly wet summer. We persuaded some of the staff to be involved, as there was little to entertain us in the house. It would have been quite good if Father had not shut down production."

  Christopher laughed. "Why did he do that?"

  "Well, he told the servants that they needed to get back to their duties. 'I'm not paying you to be actors!','" she said, impersonating her father. "He was right, of course. But Eleanor and I put it on all the same. It was a great success. Our dolls enjoyed the performance very much."

  They shared a laugh. "I wish I could have seen it. How old were you?"

  "I was twelve, I believe. And Eleanor would have been seven. Well, it kept us out of mischief, for a few days, at any rate."

  They both fell silent for a moment. He was convinced more than ever that she was the sort of woman he wanted to marry. Her thirst for life and genuineness was extremely attractive to him, like a breath of fresh air.

  "Well," he said. "I should be going. I will see you on Friday. Shall we say eight o'clock?" Christopher stood.

  "Yes, that would be lovely. I'll see you out," she replied. She stood and led him to the front door.

  "Good day, Lady Lydia," Christopher said. He took her hand and kissed it.

  "Good day, Lord Christopher." She smiled. He noted the slight blush creeping up her cheeks as he turned and walked away. It was a very pretty blush, indeed.

  ***

  "Ah, just as I expected," Eleanor said the next morning, while they ate their breakfast. She held up a note triumphantly, a wide smile lighting up her face. "Colonel Jacobs has accepted my invitation to go to the play on Friday."

  "Very good," Lydia replied.

  "I hear you are going to see A Midsummer Night's Dream?" their father said, looking over his newspaper.

  "Yes, Father," Lydia replied.

  "Your mother and I saw that before we were married. It was one of her favorites," he said.

  Lydia smiled. "Yes. Do you remember when we tried to act out the play, Eleanor? I told Lord Beaumont about it yesterday. He was very amused."

  "You told Lord Beaumont about that? Why ever would you do such a thing, Lydia?" her father asked.

  Lydia halted her laughter and glanced from her sister to her father. "I did not think it inappropriate to share a memory from our childhood.”

  "I should think you would not want him to see you as a silly girl, especially when you are trying to get him to marry you," her Father replied coldly.

  Lydia glanced at Eleanor for moral support. "I want Lord Beaumont to know me for who I really am. I am not trying to fool him into marriage. I am not trying to coax him into marriage at all. But I believe I do not have to lie to him to get him to marry me," she replied, trying to stay calm.

  "No man wants a woman who speaks her mind, Lydia. That is, not until after they a
re married. There is plenty of time for you to let him get to know the “real you” after you are safely married," her father said. He stood and left the table.

  Lydia felt like screaming. And she could tell that Eleanor was almost at her breaking point, too.

  "Why do you let him talk to you like that?" Eleanor asked. Lydia knew her sister was not angry with her, but the words cut all the same.

  "He is our father, Eleanor. What do you expect me to do?" she asked.