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

by Leah Conolly

  Chapter 25

  A week later, Christopher sat at his writing desk, lamenting over the fact that Lady Lydia had still not answered any of his letters. He had sent a message every day, and yet she remained silent. He decided that he must call on her to see if all was well. He freshened up after tea and walked briskly to her house.

  He arrived at her home, feeling nervous and overheated from the warm summer afternoon. He wiped his forehead with his handkerchief as he waited for the maid to answer the door.

  “Yes, my lord?” the maid asked, on opening it.

  “Is Lady Baker at home?” he asked.

  “One moment, sir” she said. “Please come in and wait in the foyer.”

  He stood with his hat in hand as the maid went to enquire if Lady Baker was home. She came back a few moments later.

  “I’m sorry, my Lord, but Lady Baker is not available for visitors,” she replied.

  “Not available, or not home?” he asked.

  The maid stuttered, not knowing how to answer to best shield her mistress.

  “Never mind,” he replied testily. “Is Lady Eleanor at home?”

  “I shall go and enquire,” she said.

  He rolled his eyes as she left. After several more minutes, the maid came back and curtsied. “I’m sorry, my lord. Neither Lady Baker nor Lady Eleanor are available for visitors.”

  “Is there sickness in the house?” he asked, suddenly becoming fearful that some awful disease had befallen his love.

  “I am not at liberty to say, my lord. Would you like to leave your card?”

  He fished around in his coat pocket for his cards and gave her one. He handed it to her without a word and left. He closed the door behind him and took off his coat. He did not care that it was not proper. It was hot, and he was miserable. He slung the jacket over his shoulder and started the walk home.

  What had happened? He had thought that their time together at the play had been a delightful evening. But Lady Lydia had not answered any of his letters since that evening. A disturbing thought entered his mind. What if she had decided on a different suitor after all?

  All he knew was that he needed to spend more time with her. He would send more money to her father, so that the man would take the pressure off Lydia to quickly find a husband.

  Christopher went straight to his study when he arrived home, feeling hot and deeply troubled. He did not care. He took out a sheet of clean paper and dipped the quill into the inkwell, writing furiously.

  Dear Sir,

  I hope you may find this useful.

  Sincerely,

  A Friend

  He folded the letter, placing several ten-pound notes inside and affixed the seal. He then took out another sheet of paper and began to write.

  Dear Lady Lydia,

  I hope that I have not offended you in some way. I called at your house earlier and have written several letters that yet remain unanswered. What has happened? Please, answer me. If I have offended you, I will do whatever is required to reinstate myself in your good graces. I am going mad with worry.

  Please answer soon.

  Yours affectionately,

  Lord Christopher Beaumont

  He was about to affix his seal, when the thought occurred to him that perhaps she had been ignoring him on purpose. He decided to leave his seal off the letter and drop it off at her house unmarked. He reasoned that she would be more likely to read it if she did not know it was from him.

  He left his name off and simply added her name to the front of the letter. He left the house as the sun was setting, ignoring his mother’s announcement that dinner was about to be served. He slammed the door behind him and made his way to Lydia’s house.

  He dropped the letters in the letterbox himself and walked away, hoping that no one had seen him as he left. Surely, she would answer him after his father received more money. There was nothing else he could do now but hope.

  ***

  His hopes had been dashed. After three days of waiting, Lady Lydia had still not answered him. He felt as though he was going mad. Why was she silent?

  “Christopher? Christopher?!” his mother was calling. “Son, why aren’t you listening to me?” she whined.

  He looked up at her, already in a foul mood. “Yes? I apologize. What were you saying?”

  “I asked you who you intend to escort to the Fulton’s ball?” she asked again.

  He rolled his eyes. “I am not going to the Fulton’s ball, Mother.” He glanced out the window at the sodden landscape. It did not help his mood that it had rained continuously for the last few days. He had been cooped up with his mother’s nagging for longer than he could stand.

  “Surely you are jesting, my son? You cannot not attend the Fultons’ ball. It is one of the highlights of the season. I know that Lady Horn does not have an escort yet. Perhaps you could ask her, since the event is so close at hand, and it is unlikely that she will find anyone else?”

  “No, I will not ask Lady Horn. I do not wish to go to the ball, Mother. And let that be the end of it,” he said.

  “What’s happened to you?” she lamented. “You were so happy and accommodating only a few days ago,” she pouted.

  “I will tell you what has happened. I have been living with a mother who sees fit to constantly nag and berate me for my personal choices. I am a grown man, and I do not need you to dictate my whole life for me. Let. It. Be!” He punctuated the last few words, so that he would not be misheard. He then stood and left the room.

  He ran into Florence on his way to his study. She waved him into the library, putting a finger over her lips.

  “Hello, Florence,” he breathed. “What is it?” he asked, not unkindly. She had been wonderful to him all these years. He knew that she had only taken the position as his mother’s maid out of devotion to him.

  “I have some news that I know you will not like,” she replied. “But I would not feel right keeping it from you.”

  Christopher’s heart began to beat fast. “Yes?”

  “Your mother has been scheming again. She has told Lady Horn that you intend to propose to her at the Fultons’ Ball Friday next,” she replied.

  Christopher felt the heat rise in his cheeks. He was sure the vein in his forehead was popping out, as it always did when he was angry.

  She patted his arm. “Please, do not say that I told you. Things between her ladyship and I are already strained. But I thought you should know.”

  “I have already refused to go, so there is no harm done by her scheming. This time,” he said.

  “You are not taking Lady Baker?” she asked.

  “No. I am not taking anyone. I have not heard from Lady Baker in nearly a fortnight,” he said.

  “Why?” she asked, shocked.

  “ I really have no idea. She will not answer my letters or receive me when I call. Why are women so horribly unfeeling? I am sick to death of her games,” he lamented.

  “Do not be too hard on her, Christopher. She is probably . . .”

  “Don’t tell me what to do! If I want to be hard on her, I will. She has treated me as I do not deserve. Leave me be, woman,” he shouted.

  Florence frowned. “I have been nothing but loyal to you throughout your entire life. I do not think I deserve to be screamed at just because you are unhappy. But I will do as you wish. Good day, my lord.” She curtsied and left the room.

  He threw his arms up, shaking his fist at the ceiling. “Why are women so infuriating!”

  He huffed and let his arms fall back to his sides, all the fight suddenly taken out of him.

  “Blast,” he said under his breath.

  He bounded out into the hall and followed Florence. “Please, wait!” he called, closing the distance between them.

  She turned, tears pouring down her face. He could have kicked himself for making her cry.

  He took her hand gently and gave it a light squeeze. “I am sorry. You did not deserve that. I am frustrated with myself and the whole situatio
n with Lydia. . .”

  The truth was, he was in love with Lydia. He wanted to see her, to make sure she was all right. Even if she did not want to marry him, he had to make sure she was well.

  Florence nodded, wiping her tears away. “I know. I only want to help,” she replied, squeezing his hand in return.

  “What do I do?” he asked, tormented.

  She thought for a moment, “What does your heart tell you?’

  He gave a joyless laugh, “I want to march over to her house, break down the door, and demand she see me. But I cannot do that, of course. She has severed all communication with me.”

  Florence softened, “There is not much you can do, then. Keep waiting. Keep writing to her. Keep hoping that she will give you an answer.”

  Chapter 26

  Lydia leaned her head against her hand, staring out the window at the storm raging outside. Her heart felt like a raging tempest, too. She had been toyed with and then discarded like so much rubbish. Lord Beaumont had used her ill. All he cared about was his writing career. Had he ever really cared for her?

  “Lydia? Are you quite well?” Patricia came up behind her, startling her out of her reverie.

  She stood, straightening. “Yes. I’m sorry, I was in another world.”

  “You’ve been in another world for the last two weeks,” Patricia said, concerned. “Here, give me that stack of books and follow me.”

  Lydia handed her the stack she pointed to and followed her with her own stack to the back of the book shop. She was about to climb the ladder and start putting them away, but Patricia placed a hand on her arm to stop her. She set down her stack of books and then took Lydia’s as well, placing them on the floor.

  “Work can wait for a moment. What is wrong? Won’t you confide in me?” Patricia asked.

  Lydia looked down at the book resting on the top of the stack and saw that it was the last book that Lord Beaumont had recommended she read. She picked it up, pain stabbing at her heart. She hugged it to her chest.

  “I have ceased contact with Lord Beaumont. Father did not take the news well and has been pushing me to find someone else to marry as soon as possible,” Lydia explained.

  “Surely, he cannot mean to force you into marriage? He would not be so cruel,” Patricia said.

  “Either I marry, or we shall all end up in the workhouse, Patricia. And Eleanor would not survive a year there. I do not have another alternative. I must marry, or we are ruined,” she said.

  “I am so very sorry, my friend. I wish there were something I could do to help you,” Patricia replied.

  “May I purchase this one?” Lydia asked, holding the tome out to her.

  “Keep it as a gift,” Patricia said. “And I can finish things here. You look as though you could do with a good rest.”

  Lydia simply nodded. “Thank you.”

  She gathered her things and returned home. Eleanor was in the parlor with their father and Colonel Jacobs. Lydia did not have the strength to face them. She was happy for her sister, but she did not want to have to pretend to smile and carry on a conversation. She hurried to her room and sat down at her writing desk.

  She opened the book and leafed through it idly. Songs of Innocence and of Experience had proved to be an excellent book. It was a book of poems by William Blake and had been an excellent recommendation, but now she would never have the chance to tell Lord Beaumont how much she had enjoyed it.

  She took out a quill and her inkwell, turning to the first page of the book. She began to write everything she felt, of her love and sorrow over Lord Beaumont.

  You were the first man I ever loved, the first man I trusted with my heart completely. Your heart understood mine, I did not even have to say a word. I feel lost without you now, in a perpetual fog that will not lift from before my eyes. Why have you treated me thus? Why make me believe you loved me when you felt no such thing?

  I will have to marry soon, and my biggest regret is that I will never be able to tell you how I truly felt about you. How I feel. I have loved you more than you can know.

  Lydia ran out of room on the page and reluctantly set down the quill. She stared at what she had written, too heartbroken to move. A knock came at the door, and she forced herself up lethargically.

  Eleanor was sitting outside, her maid behind her. “May I come in?” she asked sheepishly. They had not spoken much since their fight two weeks earlier.

  “Of course,” she said. The maid wheeled Eleanor in and stopped the chair by the writing desk.

  “Thank you, Jane. You may leave us now,” Lydia instructed. The maid closed the door on the way out.

  Eleanor swallowed, then said, “I want to apologize for my behavior the other week. I realize that you did not mean what you said, and that you were upset. I should have offered you my support rather than getting angry. Will you forgive me?”

  Lydia knelt before her sister’s chair and lay her head on her lap for a moment. She looked up with tears in her eyes.

  “Oh, Elle. I am the one who should be asking your forgiveness. I took out my pain and frustration on you. The last thing I want to do is hurt you, Elle. Please forgive me,” she pleaded.

  “Of course, I forgive you,” she said. They hugged, and Lydia sat down at the chair in front of her writing desk. She wiped her tears with her handkerchief, knowing that her eyes would be puffy and red. She sniffed.

  “Won’t you tell me what is wrong, Lydia. I know that you have quarreled with Lord Beaumont. You never receive him when he calls now, and I have not seen you write a letter to him in days,” Eleanor replied.

  Lydia let out a breath. “I have not written to him, that is true. I have broken with him, for reasons I cannot discuss. It is best that we are not together. He deserves Lady Horn,” she said bitterly.

  Eleanor did not speak for some time. She knew that Lydia had no need for her to try to offer solutions. She only needed someone to listen.

  Lydia tried to smile and patted her sister’s hand. “Thank you. I could not have asked for a better sister than I have in you,” she replied.

  “And I could not have lived this life without you,” Eleanor smiled. “Perhaps you will be able to make amends with Lord Beaumont? When he has had time to think and come to his senses,” she suggested.

  Lydia nodded. “Perhaps.” She did not tell her sister that it had been her fault. That she was the one who had pushed him away. There was no going back now.

  Chapter 27

  Another week had gone by. Christopher sat in his study, wallowing in his misery. A knock sounded at the door, but Christopher did not answer. Perhaps if he did not respond, the person at the door would go away and leave him alone.

  "I am not going to let you hide in here for the rest of your life." Victor opened the door and came in without an invitation. "You need a bath and a shave. Have you no pride?"

  "No," Christopher said simply. "I do not care for anything anymore."

  "Nonsense. I know you care for Lady Lydia. Show some backbone, man! Fight for her!" Victor came closer and looked as if he might strike Christopher if he did not get up.

  Christopher straightened. He had been sitting slumped in his chair for at least two hours, and now his back was taut with soreness.

  "I don't want to talk about Lady Lydia, or anything else. She has made her choice," Christopher said, stretching his back, his arms curled above his head.

  Victor poked him in the ribs with his walking stick. "I know you don't want to talk about it, but you will, nonetheless!" Victor sat down across from him and scowled. "You were meant for each other, my boy. Please don't let her slip through your fingers. Whatever she has done, it has been for her family. You are both stubborn. Go to her and find out how you have offended and put it right."

  "Me? I didn't do anything! She's the one who . . ."

  "Believe me,” Victor cut in, “when dealing with a woman, you did something. It really doesn't matter what you believe. But if you apologize for whatever it is, whether you are respons
ible or not, she will forgive you," he added.

  "What? I'm not apologizing for something I haven’t done. I don't even know what it is that I’m supposed to have done," Christopher howled.

  Victor shook his head. "Do you love her?"

  Christopher suddenly stilled, his defensiveness draining away. He slouched back into the chair. "Yes," he said simply.

  "Then go to her. Make amends, do whatever is required. Let go of your selfish pride and ask the girl to marry you. I don't know why you have waited this long in the first place, but that's just my opinion."