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

by Leah Conolly

  Christopher nodded. “You mean fifty years from now?”

  “You expect me to live that long?” Lord Baker laughed.

  “I will tolerate nothing less, sir,” Christopher said good-naturedly. Lord Baker nodded and led him through to the drawing-room. Christopher felt that he had found yet another father figure in his life, and of that he was glad.

  Chapter 33

  Christopher woke up just as the sun was beginning to rise. He stretched and bounded out of bed, throwing the curtains wide to let in the early morning sunshine.

  Today was his wedding day. He opened the window and took a deep breath. In a matter of hours, Lydia Baker would be his wife, and the new Lady Beaumont.

  It had been a month since he had proposed. He thought back on all that had transpired over that short time. All had been a whirlwind of activity, as they prepared for the big day. His mother had insisted on a big society wedding. And, as he was tired of arguing with her, he let his mother and Lydia handle most of the arrangements together, only giving his opinion when asked.

  He dressed quickly and went down to breakfast. Victor was already seated, a newspaper in hand.

  “Ah, there he is. How is the groom this morning?” he asked good-naturedly.

  “The groom is feeling wonderful,” Christopher beamed.

  “How is Lydia holding up? I know your mother has been driving her quite mad with the wedding arrangements,” Victor replied.

  Christopher shook his head. “I think she is well. I know she will be happy when the wedding is over, and life can assume a more peaceful pace.”

  Lydia had been a saint, as his mother had hounded her with questions and proposals about how the wedding should be arranged. But he was proud of her. She had stood her ground on the things she wanted, right down to the flowers. The two women’s relationship had been strained at first, but it was a work in progress. He was hopeful that his mother would tone down her overbearing way as time went on.

  A few hours later, he was ready to head to the church. Bells were ringing out all over the city, as the wedding was to be the social event of the season. Victor stood with him at the altar as they waited for the bride to arrive. A few minutes later, they heard a swell of cheering outside the front of the church.

  “She’s here,” Christopher breathed. He felt his heart fluttering in his chest with anticipation.

  The church was filled with hundreds of guests, and, as the bishop entered, everyone stood. A hush filtered over the guests as the doors to the back of the church were opened. Eleanor entered first, pushed down the aisle by Patricia. They were both dressed in their best gowns for the occasion.

  Patricia and Eleanor placed themselves on the left side of the altar, waiting for Lydia to enter. Christopher faced the bishop, taking a deep breath.

  Organ music filled the air, as Lydia and her father appeared at the back of the church and began to walk slowly down the aisle. He chanced a peek over his shoulder and smiled.

  She was radiant, dressed in a white silk gown and holding a bouquet of white roses. She beamed at Christopher as she traveled in stately fashion down the aisle, her arm linked in her father’s.

  “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?” the bishop asked.

  “I do,” Lord Baker replied. He kissed his daughter’s cheek and then gave her hand over to Christopher, who squeezed it lightly as they stepped forward together.

  “With this ring, I thee wed, with my body, I thee worship. And with all my worldly goods, I thee endow. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen,” Christopher said, repeating after the bishop. He placed a ruby ring on Lydia’s finger.

  “With this ring, I thee wed, with my body, I thee worship. And with all my worldly goods, I thee endow. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen,” Lydia repeated after the bishop and placed a simple gold band on her groom’s finger.

  The bishop concluded with a reading from the scriptures; “‘For this reason, a man will leave his father and mother and be united with his wife, and the two will become one flesh.’ So, they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore, what God has joined together, let no one separate.”

  Christopher turned and took Lydia’s hand in his. They were married. He led her back up the aisle, and they were greeted by a cheering crowd as they exited the church. A carriage was waiting for them at the bottom of the steps. He handed her in, and they settled into the seat together, waving to the people who had come to wish them well.

  “Well, Lady Beaumont. How do you feel?” he asked.

  She beamed up at him, “As if I’m in a wonderful dream.”

  Christopher cupped her face in his hands. “You are my dream come true.” And with that, he touched his lips to hers.

  ***

  Jane pushed Eleanor into the Beaumont mansion for the wedding breakfast. Eleanor looked around for Colonel Jacobs.

  Lydia had asked her to invite him and his family to the wedding, as they were all anxious to meet Samuel's family. Jane parked her in the sunlit parlor, as they waited for the plethora of other guests to arrive.

  "Have Colonel Jacobs and his family come yet?" she asked one of the passing footmen.

  "I am not sure, my lady," he answered. He was carrying a tray laden with crystal wine glasses for the occasion. The great hall had been transformed into a grand dining hall. Tables covered in white linen cloths were set in a rectangle around the room, with flowers in small crystal vases set out in five-foot increments.

  Eleanor had helped oversee the preparations the day before. All she could think about while she helped Lydia prepare for her wedding day were her own hopes of marrying soon.

  "Would you mind going to check for me, please?” she asked the footman nervously.

  "Of course, my lady," he said. He went back out into the great hall. Jane stood in the corner, ready to serve her mistress at any time.

  "Would you go and stand by the front door, Jane, in case they have not come in yet? Have them shown in here as soon as they arrive."

  "Yes, my lady," Jane replied.

  Eleanor did not have long to wait. About ten minutes later, Jane came back trailed by Colonel Jacobs and three other people.

  "Good day, Lady Eleanor. May I present my father and mother, Lord and Lady Jacobs. And this dashing fellow is my older brother, Daniel. He is quite the “man about town”, so don't believe a word he says." He winked and Eleanor smiled.

  "I am so pleased to meet all of you," she beamed. She hoped they could not see her nerves.

  "The pleasure is ours, my dear," Colonel Jacobs' mother said. His father nodded but remained mostly silent as they exchanged some small talk. When the bride and groom came in, Eleanor motioned the couple over and introduced them.

  "This is my sister, Lady Lydia Beaumont," she said. "And my brother-in-law, Lord Christopher Beaumont. Oh, and this is my father, Lord Baker," she said as her father joined the circle.

  "Pleasure," Lord Jacobs said to them. Eleanor watched his face, a mask of displeasure. He pulled his son aside, walking away a few feet. He whispered something indiscernible. Colonel Jacobs soon came back to her side, but his father was nowhere to be seen.

  "Is everything all right?' she asked.

  He smiled down at her. "Perfectly."

  She did not have time to enquire further, for everyone was called to the table as breakfast was about to be served. Eleanor beamed at her sister, while their father gave the first toast.

  "I am thrilled to welcome such a distinguished gentleman to my family. May your lives be filled with happiness. To the bride and groom!" he said. Everyone raised their glasses and toasted the happy couple. Christopher leaned over and kissed his new bride, amidst applause and cheers of joy.

  Epilogue

  “Elizabeth!” Lydia called.

  Her daughter came running back to the little table set with tea. She had been chasing a butterfly, enjoying the sunshine in the gardens of the Beaumont country estate. Her light b
londe curls bounced in the wind as she ran back to her mother. Lydia smiled. She was the spitting image of herself, with blonde hair and blue eyes.

  “Did you find him?” Lydia asked, taking her daughter up onto her lap.

  “He flew away, Mother,” she pouted.

  “Well, he has a family of his own, too, my sweet,” Lydia laughed.

  “Come, let us go into the house and find your father.”

  Elizabeth bounced off her mother’s lap and held her hand as they walked into the house together. Christopher was sitting at his writing desk in the drawing-room, working on another manuscript. He had given up purely philosophical books, trading them for novels. Since their marriage, he had published three books, and they had all been very well received by the public.

  “You missed tea, my dear,” Lydia said as they came into the room.

  “I did? I’m sorry, my love. I shall break off for a while, so that I can spend some time with my favorite ladies,” he replied. He set down his quill and stretched.

  “I’ll have Mrs. Haworth bring in a tray for you. You must be exhausted. You’ve been working since early this morning,” Lydia replied.

  Christopher often had spells when inspiration flowed freely, and he sometimes forgot to eat when he was taken over by an idea. She loved watching his passion come out in his writing.

  “Shall I play, Father?” Elizabeth asked, sitting down to the piano.

  “Of course,” Christopher replied. He took Lydia’s hand and squeezed it. They had been through so much in the last few years. Sadly, his mother had taken ill and passed away. But she had been there for the birth of her first grandchild, and Christopher was glad of that.

  Victor had come to live with them, traveling with them back and forth from the country house during the winter and the London house during the season. He was a doting grandfather and a wonderful father-in-law to Lydia.

  Elizabeth was very accomplished at playing the piano. Lydia was convinced she had inherited her aunt Eleanor’s talent for music. It had certainly not come from either her or Christopher.

  When the song ended, she and Christopher applauded. He stood and went to join his daughter at the piano. “That was lovely, my dear. And what does Plato say about music?” he asked.

  “Christopher, she is only six. A bit young for philosophy, don’t you think?” Lydia asked, laughing at his antics. He was still a philosopher at heart.

  “It is never too early to educate the young mind with the classics. Elizabeth?” he encouraged the child.

  Elizabeth stood and cleared her throat, the same way that her father did before diving into a serious subject. “'Music is a moral law. It gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to everything.’ Did I say it right, Papa?” she beamed up at him.

  “Perfectly,” he said, kneeling to embrace her. “What did I tell you?” he asked, turning to Lydia.

  “I stand corrected,” Lydia replied.

  The Extended Epilogue

  I want to thank you with all my heart for reading my novel “A Duke’s Relentless Courting”!

  Would you like a sneak peek in Charlotte and Duncan’s future?

  Click on the image or the link below to connect to a more personal level and as a BONUS, I will send you the Extended Epilogue of this Book!

  http://leahconolly.com/lc-book3-ex-ep/

  Pretty Little Lies for the Duke's Heart-Preview

  Chapter 1

  Charlotte closed her eyes, allowing the light spray of ocean water to mix with the salt of her tears. She had not spoken a word to her maid on the carriage ride to the docks, despite the young woman’s attempts to engage her in enthusiastic conversation.

  The maid chattered away, Charlotte presumed, in an attempt to lighten her mood. She did not fault the young woman for being so joyous, or for wishing to spread her jubilance to her mistress, but no amount of effort could eradicate the cloud of doom that Charlotte felt hovering over her. She focused on her tears instead of the maid’s words and resisted the desire to ask for silence.

  Charlotte understood her companion’s fascination. She knew that her maid was excited about the trip and was looking forward to seeing France. Truthfully, if the circumstances were different, Charlotte might have shared the girl’s excitement. As things were, she was unable to do so.

  She thought back to the dreams that had haunted her for weeks. After each one, she had soothed herself with promises that she would find a way out of her forbidding future. She told herself that she would be able to persuade her parents to see reason, to see how much she wanted, needed, to choose her own path in life. With her parents’ goodbye kisses, it had become painfully clear that her pleas and hopes had gone unheard.

  She dreaded the upcoming chapter of her life with every fiber of her being, even though it should be a happy, exciting time. What woman would not be blissfully happy to marry a French count? Charlotte knew the answer, of course. It did not change the fact that she would not be blissfully happy; she would be downright miserable.

  Comte Francois was, by all appearances, a respectable man. He was quite successful in his business endeavors, had great wealth, and managed his title as Comte with elegance and renown. However, at the edges of France’s high society and within the London ton, rumors perpetually surfaced regarding the Comte. Charlotte had heard that he sometimes cheated business partners, making them believe that the percentages of revenue that came in were less than they actually were, or that they had agreed to give him a greater share of the profits.

  Someone, though she could no longer recall who it was, had once told her that the great Comte regularly did business with criminals. They had said that if a person or company posed any competition, he would send ne’er-do-wells to frighten the potential competitor and remove them from his path. She had confronted her father about this speculation but had received only the vaguest and most noncommittal of answers.

  Worst of all, however, was the rumor that the Comte was fond of taking lovers in secret, going so far as to seek the company of ladies of the night. Charlotte shuddered at the thought of taking such a man for a husband. Yet here she was, waiting at the docks not far from her London home for the ship that would take her to him, in accordance with the agreement her parents had made just after her sixteenth birthday, agreeing to give him her hand in marriage. Her heart was growing heavier and fuller of dread with every passing moment.

  The recollections of the rumors involving the Comte were too much for Charlotte to bear. She covered her mouth with her hand, tears trickling down her fingers as she fled the ship’s docking point.

  “My lady,” Ruth called, temporarily stunned by her mistress’s outburst. “Wait!”

  Charlotte paid her no heed as she weaved her way through the people clustered along the pier, awaiting the ship’s arrival with notably more enthusiasm than she. She looked around, lost, and overcome with anxiety, seeking any place that she might take refuge until she could compose herself. A hand on her elbow made Charlotte start with a gasp.

  “My lady,” her maid repeated, pulling her gently away from a group of people who were starting to become too interested in Charlotte’s distress. “Why do you fret?”

  Charlotte embraced her maid, grateful for her companionship, as well as her friendship. She tried to steady her breaths, but they were coming fast and shallow. Her entire body was trembling, and she could not order her thoughts enough to answer. Instead, she sobbed against the maid’s shoulder and managed nothing more than a weak shake of her head.

  Ruth patted her back for a moment, murmuring to her soothingly. Then she released Charlotte gently and guided her to an empty shipping crate. Once Charlotte was seated, Ruth handed her a handkerchief. She dried her eyes quickly, as Ruth positioned herself so that she shielded Charlotte from prying eyes.

  “Oh, Ruth,” Charlotte whispered, still struggling to calm herself. “I cannot go through with this.”

  Ruth put a hand on Cha
rlotte’s shoulder.

  “Forgive me, my lady,” Ruth said. “But perhaps it will not be so terrible. After all, France is a beautiful place.”

  Charlotte rose quickly from the crate and began to pace.

  “It could be the most beautiful place in the world and still feel like a cage, if I am married to a scoundrel whom I do not love,” she said, tears filling her eyes once more.

  Ruth smiled sympathetically at Charlotte.

  “What if the rumors you have heard about the Comte are all untrue?” she asked.

  Charlotte sighed with exasperation, pacing faster and further.

  “What if they are not?” she countered.