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

by Leah Conolly

  "Stand up for yourself. Fight! Scream! Do something," she replied, exasperated.

  "It's no use, Elle. He has his opinions. Nothing I say is going to change them," Lydia said. She stood and went around to the back of Eleanor's wheelchair. She pushed her out of the dining room and down the hall to the library.

  "I know I've said it before, but do not let him bully you into marrying. You should be with the man you want to be with. I want you and Lord Beaumont to be happy," Eleanor softened.

  "Thank you. We have not even discussed marriage yet. But I think he would make a wonderful husband," Lydia said.

  "Do not worry about me. I shall be all right, so long as you are looked after. I cannot allow my family to suffer or go hungry when I have the means of saving them. Do you want to end up at the workhouse?" Lydia asked.

  "Of course not. It's so unfair, Lydia. We should not be the ones worrying about this," Eleanor growled.

  "I know. I should not have told you about the conversation I had with Father. I did not mean to worry you," Lydia said.

  "Stop that this instant. I'm glad you told me. We have always been allies. This situation is no different," Eleanor said.

  Lydia nodded. "I have every faith that things will work out for the best. Please do not fret about it. Father is just impatient."

  "Well, he can wait," Eleanor said. She took up her needlework and started stabbing the needle through the fabric, taking her frustration out on the unfortunate piece of cloth.

  "Careful, Elle. You'll prick your fingers that way," Lydia said, taking up her own needlework project.

  "Good, then perhaps I won't have to practice this anymore," she retorted.

  Lydia laughed. "Very well. You read aloud while I sew," she said. Eleanor let out a sigh of relief and retrieved the novel from the side table.

  "Thank you," she breathed and began to read where they had left in The Mysteries of Udolpho.

  "I ought not to doubt the steadiness of your affection, yet such is the inconsistency of real love, that it is always awake to suspicion, however unreasonable; always requiring new assurances from the object of its interest, and thus it is, that I always feel revived, as by a new conviction, when your words tell me I am dear to you; and, wanting these, I relapse into doubt, and too often into despondency. . ."

  Chapter 22

  Lydia watched from the parlor window, waiting for Lord Beaumont's carriage to roll up in front of their home. She was dressed in her best gown, an emerald green silk with gold trim. She pulled her long, white gloves up over her elbows and checked her appearance in the mirror, making sure that the jeweled comb she had placed at the side of her head to keep back her curls was straight. The comb had been her mother’s and only came out on very special occasions.

  "Is he here yet?" Eleanor asked.

  "Not yet," she replied. Colonel Jacobs had arrived a few minutes earlier and was sitting next to Eleanor near the cold hearth.

  "I am looking forward to meeting Lord Beaumont. My father has been reading one of his newest books," he replied.

  "And how does he find it?" Lydia asked.

  "Would you like me to be honest or kind?" he asked, with a wry smile.

  "Honest," Lydia replied.

  "He found it very dull and commented that the man needed a wife to balance him out," he replied.

  Lydia colored. "He did not say that!" she laughed.

  "Those were his very words," Colonel Jacobs said.

  "Well, Lydia is just the woman to do that. She already has if you ask me," Eleanor piped up.

  "Nobody did ask, Sister. Now, behave yourselves. He is here," she scolded playfully. Colonel Jacobs stood and moved behind Eleanor's chair to wheel her into the hallway.

  "You don't have to do that, Colonel. Jane, push Eleanor's wheelchair, please," Lydia instructed her maid.

  "No, it's quite alright. I am happy to do it," he said.

  Lydia nodded, smiling at the couple. She could tell that they were already smitten. Eleanor may receive a proposal before I do, Lydia thought. But she would not mind that in the least. Lydia was delighted that her sister was finally enjoying some happiness after so much pain.

  Lord Beaumont knocked on the door and was received in the foyer.

  "You all look splendid," he said, his eyes lingering on Lydia.

  "She does look splendid, doesn't she?" Eleanor teased.

  Lydia blushed. "Eleanor!" she exclaimed. Her sister could be very inappropriate at times.

  "It is true, Lady Baker. You do look beautiful," Lord Beaumont said quietly.

  "Well, thank you," she said, giving her sister a playful scowl.

  "Shall we?" Lord Beaumont said, offering Lydia his arm.

  "Yes," she replied and took his arm. Colonel Jacobs insisted on helping Eleanor into the carriage. They waited for Eleanor and the colonel to situate themselves, and then Lydia and Lord Beaumont climbed into the coach. They sat together on the seat opposite Eleanor and Colonel Jacobs. Lydia imagined how much fun it would be to go on outings like this if they were all to get married. A real family.

  She felt sad for a moment, realizing that what she and Eleanor had at present was far from the ideal family situation. She knew her father tried, but he sorely missed the mark.

  But she pushed the sad thoughts aside, determined to enjoy the evening. Christopher helped her out of the carriage and then placed her hand in the crook of his arm. She liked the way he took control, almost as if he were sending a message to the other gentlemen present that she was with him.

  They made their way to Lord Beaumont's box, the colonel carrying Eleanor up the stairs. They had arrived a little late to the theater, so that the crowds would already be seated.

  They had missed the first few minutes of the play, but it had been easier to get Eleanor to the box on the second floor.

  They sat down quietly and listened as the first act began. Lydia was breathless with excitement at having the opportunity to see her mother's favorite play. It had become her favorite, too, over the years. Egeus had just begun his accusations against Lysander:

  "Stand forth, Lysander: and my gracious duke,

  This man hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child;

  Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes,

  And interchanged love-tokens with my child. . ."

  Lydia thought the play ironic, for the opening scene between Egeus and his daughter, Hermia, was like the situation she was experiencing with her own father.

  Christopher leaned over and whispered to her, "This is where Hermia must choose between marriage to Demetrius or the life of a nun."

  Lydia nodded. "Indeed." She turned her attention back to the play, thinking it odd that he should be explaining the plot to her, when she was likely more qualified to teach it to him.

  Lord Beaumont whispered to her periodically throughout the play. It did make it hard to concentrate at times. But she smiled to herself nonetheless and admired him for sharing his insights with her. She had not realized he knew the play so well. She wondered if he had studied it specifically in preparation for this evening. If he had, the gesture was very endearing.

  As the end of Act V neared, Lydia could feel Lord Beaumont's eyes on her. She met his gaze, and his face instantly lit up with a smile. She smiled back, feeling something akin to fireworks going off in her stomach. She could not be sure, but she thought he might want to lean in and kiss her. Lydia had never seen that look from a man before. And at that moment, she wished he would do it.

  Applause sounded around them as the play ended, but neither seemed to hear a thing. Eleanor had to call Lydia’s name twice, as her eyes were still locked with Lord Beaumont's.

  "Lydia. The play is over." Eleanor smiled.

  Lydia let her gaze fall to the floor, breaking the spell. "Of course. Well, shall we go?" She stood, and Lord Beaumont followed. They waited for a few minutes, while the audience filed out of the crowded theater.

  "That was wonderful. Thank you for bringing us along, Lord Beaumont,
" Eleanor gushed.

  "It was my pleasure. I hope we can do it again very soon," he replied.

  "I would like that very much," Lydia said.

  Colonel Jacobs popped his head around the corner of the box and into the hallway. "It looks as though the halls have cleared enough now," he observed. He lifted Eleanor as if she weighed nothing and started the trek down the hallway to the grand staircase.

  Lord Beaumont and Lydia lingered for a few more moments in the now quiet theater.

  "I had a wonderful time. Did you know that this was my mother's favorite play?" Lydia asked.

  "I did not. But I am glad to hear that you enjoyed it," he said. He offered her his arm, and she took it gladly.

  He led her out of the box, and they quickly caught up to Colonel Jacobs and Eleanor. Her sister looked divinely happy in the colonel's strong arms.

  When they exited the theater, Lord Beaumont suddenly stopped outside the carriage, startling all of them.

  "Whatever is the matter?" Lydia asked.

  "Let us not go home just yet. It is a lovely evening. Shall we repair to Vauxhall Gardens for a late-night stroll? What say you?" he asked Lydia.

  "Is it open this late?" Lydia asked.

  "They stay open later during the season. Come on. It will be jolly fun, and I could certainly use an opportunity to stretch my legs," he replied, ready to invent any reason to prolong the evening. But Lydia was not opposed to the idea. An evening stroll sounded marvelous.

  "I agree," Eleanor said. "Besides, what's the use of being young if we can't be impulsive every once in a while?"

  "It's settled then. Driver, the Vauxhall Gardens," he ordered. The colonel placed Eleanor in the carriage, and they all climbed in behind her.

  Soon, they were listening to the clip-clop of the horse's hooves as they drove down the cobbled streets of London. The city was still alight with parties that would last into the wee hours of the morning.

  They arrived at the gardens a few minutes after eleven o'clock and found that several other couples had had the same idea. Lydia helped settle Eleanor in her wheelchair, and then they all made their way through the garden gates. The colonel pushed Eleanor and parked her near a bench facing a beautiful fountain. He sat down next to her and began to talk about his days in the army.

  "Let's walk," Lord Beaumont suggested to Lydia. They could stroll along the narrow gravel paths and still stay within view of Eleanor and Colonel Jacobs. It would not do for either couple to be left alone.

  Christopher clasped his hands behind his back. It was a gesture that Lydia was quickly becoming accustomed to. He always seemed to do this when he was about to delve into a serious discussion.

  "Did you really enjoy the play?" he asked.

  "I did. I do not think I have ever had such a lovely time at the theater," she replied. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

  "I did very much. I did not think I would like a comedy, but I found it quite amusing," Lord Beaumont said. "I'm sorry if it brought up sad memories for you. I did not know it had been a favorite of your mother’s."

  "On the contrary. It made me wonder what she would have been thinking and feeling as she watched the play. I think I can guess who her favorite character would have been, and which would have been her favorite scene," Lydia replied. "I like to think about Mother. It is almost as though I was able to share a memory with her this evening. Perhaps that sounds sacrilegious?"

  "Not at all. I think the loved ones we lose are reborn, in a way, when we remember them with fondness."

  Lydia nodded. "You should have been a poet, Lord Beaumont."

  He laughed at that. "I do not think I would have made a good poet. I am too direct. Poets tend to drone on and on for hours. But I prefer directness. If someone has something to say, it should be done in as few words as possible," he replied.

  "Is that from one of your books?" she asked.

  "More or less. Have you read any of my books?"

  "Not yet. I have been distracted with books that a certain gentleman keeps bringing for me out of his extensive library," she teased.

  "I shall have him horsewhipped and shipped off to the Americas!" he teased back.

  "That would be a shame, since I am in need of another book recommendation," she laughed.

  "You have finished the most recent one, then? How did you like it?" he asked.

  "Very much. I was astonished indeed that you had The Mysteries of Udolpho in your library," she said.

  She glanced over at Eleanor and Colonel Jacobs, whose heads were quite close together. Lydia turned her attention back to the path and the gravel crunching under their feet.

  "Mother went through a period of reading only gothic novels. I am not sure how she finds time to read in between nagging my stepfather and me," he said.

  She nodded. "Lord Clarkson has been very kind to us. I do not know what we would have done without him."

  "He has always been kind to me, too. He's a good man."

  Lydia nodded in agreement. They walked on for some time, simply enjoying each other's company.

  At half past midnight, they decided it was time they went home, even though none of them wished for the magical evening to end.

  "Thank you again, Lord Beaumont," Lydia said, after they had pulled up to their home. Colonel Jacobs took Eleanor inside.

  "Thank you for coming. I hope we may do it again very soon," he said.

  "I shall look forward to it," she replied.

  Lord Beaumont bowed and kissed her hand. She could feel a tingling sensation spread up her arm as his lips touched the back of her gloved hand.

  "Good night, Lady Lydia."

  She swallowed. "Good night, Lord Beaumont." She smiled up into his kind eyes and wondered for the hundredth time what it might be like for him to kiss her lips. She let her gaze fall to her folded hands and shook her head.

  She quickly turned and went into the house, closing the door behind her. She put her hands behind her back and leaned against the door.

  "Lady Lydia Beaumont," she whispered as she pushed herself away from the door and headed to her room. She liked the way that sounded.

  Chapter 23

  The cool morning air nipped at Christopher's cheeks. A thin mist began to rise from the streets as he walked home. He had awoken early, unable to sleep. A walk through the quiet streets of London had done the trick. His mind swam with ideas for his next book. It would be quite a departure from his past works, but he was excited to get started.

  He walked into the foyer, deposited his jacket with the maid, and went into the dining room for breakfast. Victor was already seated at the foot of the table, reading the London Times. Christopher sat at his left and picked up his newspaper.

  "My goodness, you must have woken up before the sun," Victor said.

  "Where have you been?"

  "Walking," Christopher replied, a wide smile on his face.

  Victor grinned. "You never just go out for a walk. What is going on with you?"

  Christopher couldn't help but grin. "I can't simply enjoy a beautiful morning?"

  Victor folded his newspaper. "You certainly may. But I think your good mood has to do with Lady Baker. You escorted her and Eleanor to a play last night, did you not?"

  "Yes, and Eleanor's gentleman."

  "Ah, yes. Colonel Jacobs. I introduced them at the Hawthorne’s party," Victor said proudly.

  "Well, you will be glad to know that they are getting along nicely. I suspect he will propose within a fortnight," Christopher replied.

  "And you, my boy? When will you propose?" Victor asked.

  Christopher would not give any information. He knew that Victor would not tell his mother, but still. He wanted to take some more time to get to know Lydia before he asked her to marry him.

  His mother entered the dining room, and Christopher greeted her with a smile.

  "Good morning, Mother. Isn't it a beautiful day?" He pulled out a chair for her to sit down and gave her a kiss on the cheek as she was seated.

/>   She looked up at him in shock. He had not done that in years, since he was a young boy.

  "Good morning," she finally said. Her eyes were wide as she watched her son sit down next to her.

  "Well, I think I shall go to my study and get some writing done. I will see you both for luncheon," Christopher said.

  He halted just past the doorway and listened as his mother asked Victor what was wrong with her son.

  "He is acting as though he has lost his wits. What did you do to him?" she accused.