Extraordinary Tales of Regency Love: A Clean & Sweet Regency Historical Romance Collection

by Fanny Finch

  "I do not know, sir," she confessed. "It is not I who decided that my blood and class matter more than my upbringing."

  "Nor I. So if neither of us decided it, we can decide not to uphold it," he said.

  "No, Your Grace, I am forever tainted," she replied, averting her gaze.

  "I love you and I do not care if you were the daughter of a whore and a beggar," he said flatly. "I will marry you even if it means losing all my power and wealth, even if it means being judged harshly my whole life."

  "You do not understand," Agnes repeated herself.

  "No," he snapped in a harsh whisper. "No, Agnes, you do not understand. My father was ignored by society for his errors, as was yours for your mother's errors. And yet both did perfectly well. I shall be the same, I shall marry you, and I shall lead a perfectly decent life, with the added benefit of the woman I love. I do not care if it costs me everything, although I believe in my heart of hearts that it will not, and that you are simply being melodramatic."

  "Then Your Grace is a fool destroying himself senselessly. One of us must act sensibly," she said. "I shall find you a new governess and I shall leave, sir."

  "You shall not," he said. "I forbid it."

  "I thought that you loved me. If you love me, why will you not allow me to do what I must in order to feel comfortable, in order to protect us both?" Agnes asked.

  "Because you are acting like an idiotic child and I cannot allow you to hurt yourself for no good reason," he snapped back.

  Chapter 35

  Were it not for Georgia, Agnes would have walked right out of the room immediately. But the girl was still there, looking so content as she pretended to read her book. It was odd to see her across the room, so unperturbed despite the tension between the adults. It was as though she were in her own little bubble, shut off from everything.

  "She looks so happy," the duke mumbled.

  Agnes realized that he too was watching his little sister. He was relaxed, smiling, as though taking in the child's own joy and making it his own.

  "That is because she is happy," Agnes replied. "She has nothing in the world to worry about anymore, and she hopefully will not again until she is an adult."

  "Or until you leave her. She had not even smiled until you arrived," the duke said with a gentle sigh. "She loves you."

  Agnes nodded. "And yet, she will love and lose more than once or twice in her life. People come and go, sir, that is a fact that people must get used to fast. And she will, eventually, get used to it herself."

  The duke's gaze seemed hollow, as though he did not see Agnes or Georgia anymore. "Must we lose those we love? Must she lose a second mother figure? I truly believe you ought to reconsider the impact this will have on the household."

  "No, Your Grace is using a child as a pawn to keep me here," Agnes said indignantly, gritting her teeth in frustration and slipping her hand away yet again. "I cannot accept such behavior, even from someone of your standing."

  "Someone of my standing?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  "Yes, sir. You are a poor excuse for a duke, you are a fool and a breaker of social convention, you do not seem to know or care for anything about high society, and, quite frankly, I am not sure you shall ever learn with that attitude." She could not help herself. The words simply flowed, pushed forth by the strength of her frustration. It was a miracle she did not shout.

  He smiled. "Perhaps a man of my standing can do as he pleases. Or perhaps I need you here to teach me otherwise."

  "Perhaps," she said, finally losing her temper, barely managing to keep her voice down. "Perhaps Your Grace ought to learn to carry himself like a gentleman, and then he would not require me."

  The duke's glare broke and she could see that he was distressed. She was not sure which had hurt him more, her attack against his person or her refusal of his love. The fact that he saw her affections and his own dignity as being of such equal worth, she did not know which he valued more, further cemented her anger.

  But their conflict had not gone unnoticed. A book landed on the floor with a loud thump and, in a flurry of skirts and brown hair, a girl ran, clambering onto Agnes's lap.

  "No go, mama," Georgia whispered into Agnes's shoulder, holding her tightly close.

  "I am not your mother, Georgia," Agnes said, tears stinging her eyes as they fought to form.

  She wanted to wrap her arms around the child, to comfort her and promise that she would stay. But she knew it was not possible. They would simply be empty words to appease the girl. Lies, so that Agnes herself did not have to face the consequences of her actions.

  Agnes had stopped lying. It got her nowhere, and only hurt those she cared about. She could not continue lying to them, hurting them for no apparent reason besides her own selfishness. "I am sorry, Georgia," Agnes said, pushing the girl back a little. "But I am not your mother, and I cannot stay."

  As the child's tears began to flow, the duke, eyes full of fire, beckoned to a maid, who walked over and picked the girl up, taking her out of the room.

  As soon as the door had closed, the duke drew a deep breath to compose himself.

  "You may not see that, having less ability to connect to other people than a common toad, but the girl loves you very dearly," he said, turning his head from her to look out the window. "And you have hurt her by rejecting her so."

  "I am sorry," Agnes said. "I did not mean to insult Your Grace, or to hurt Georgia. I am angry."

  "Now do you see why you must remain? The child sees you as her mother. Not in a metaphorical sense, but in the sense of a literal stepmother. She needs you," the duke said, looking back into Agnes's eyes.

  "No, her closeness to me is even more cause to leave," Agnes said, pursing her lips and stepping aside so he could not touch her hand. "I cannot stay and allow her to bond with me. She cannot be allowed to think of me as her mother."

  "Stepmother," the duke replied.

  "Nor as her stepmother," Agnes insisted. "She cannot see me as a mother, a stepmother, even as a governess or a sister. She cannot love and respect me."

  "Why not?" the duke asked. "She has not yet been damaged by the vile society we live in. She has not yet been persuaded that she must despise you for things that happened long before she was born. Why should she not show you love and respect?"

  "Because, Your Grace, someday she will discover what a ruined woman I am," she said. "Someday someone will tell her that the woman she loves and respects, the woman she sees as family, is broken, carries bad blood in her, and has been disowned by her entire family, rejected from the upper classes and left to struggle through life on charity and humble employment. And then she shall be forced to decide whether the love she developed over a decade or more is important enough to sacrifice her entire reputation over."

  The duke shook his head. "Or perhaps, Agnes, when she is old enough to discuss such matters and be affected by her social status, her peers shall see beyond matters of heritage and disputes spanning generations, and it will not even be mentioned."

  "Sir, we cannot count on a major social upheaval to legitimize my staying. I will bring you both shame and suffering if I stay. Your Grace must learn to handle his affairs on his own, or else dependence on me could be Your Grace's ruin," she explained.

  "I do not see why my status matters so much to you. Would yours not be elevated by our union?" he asked. "If you truly believe that such matters are so vital, then why do you not seize this opportunity to become a member of the nobility once more? Surely being a disliked duchess would be better than a respected governess."

  "I will not drag down a man I love and respect in order to elevate myself," Agnes said. "I am not so selfish as to harm you for my own gain. Nor am I so foolish as to believe you would still love me after discovering such dreadful betrayal."

  A softness spread across his eyes and lips. "You are truly sacrificing yourself, your well-being, for me? Because you do not want to hurt me?"

  Agnes nodded. "I am, sir. However much I
am rejecting your love and support, I do still love you."

  "Why are you not prepared to let me make my own decisions, my own mistakes, then?" he asked. "It is not your duty to protect me, so why do you behave as though it were?"

  "Because Your Grace does not understand the gravity of losing status. I do. I must do what is right, not what I prefer, or what benefits me," she explained. "Your Grace will thank me someday."

  "I doubt it. I wish it would not be like this," he said. He caught her by surprise, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. "You are so much more than you could possibly imagine. So much more than a title, or a mother, or any amount of wealth."

  Agnes shook her head slowly. "And that belief of yours is precisely why I cannot remain. I cannot change what you think, but I can prevent your thoughts from harming you, sir."

  "And I suppose I cannot prevent you from leaving," he mused.

  Chapter 36

  As she packed her bags, Agnes assumed she had a level of understanding between herself and the duke. After all, he was allowing her to leave. It was a little sooner, a little more sudden than she had expected, but it should be no trouble for him.

  She had sent out an application the very day she had promised to leave, and for a week, nothing. She was beginning to worry that she would need a reference from the duke, or be directed to a new employer through the Duchess of Dorset's School for Noble Women. After all, nobles did not want just anyone watching over their daughters, and perhaps she would be rejected until she had someone of higher breeding endorsing her services.

  But the reply had arrived that morning. All she would need were her personal belongings and a letter of recommendation, and she would be governess to Sir Stuart and his family. They were not as noble a family as she had hoped to join. And they were not as wealthy as the duke, and therefore not able to pay quite so highly. But they were more modest people, which Agnes appreciated and felt she would fit in with better. They lived further away from the cities and towns and had fewer social connections to find her. And, most importantly, they were a happily married couple with four children and a fifth on the way, so nothing untoward could happen.

  Of course, Agnes still had duties with the duke. But not for too long. She would send for a new governess immediately. There were quite a few ladies who would gladly work for the duke, for such handsome pay, looking after only one child, so it was not as though it would be difficult to replace herself. And then it would all be over. Soon she would leave. But she needed something first. After setting the child down for her nap and sending a footman to take an invitation to one of the potential governesses, Agnes knocked tentatively on the duke's office door.

  "Do come in," came the reply from inside.

  His eyes lit up when he saw her step in. She closed the door gently behind herself and curtsied. "Good afternoon, sir."

  "To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked.

  "I shall be requiring a reference. I am departing in a couple of days, and, as requested, I found my replacement. I have already sent her a note, and she does not live far. So, all going to plan she shall arrive tomorrow, at which point I shall depart," Agnes explained with a smile.

  "I am not going to give you a reference," he said. "Perhaps one that says you are a thief, or a liar, or that you are madly in love with me. Something so you must return."

  Agnes froze on the spot, unsure if she had heard him correctly. "Sir!" she exclaimed. "How could you threaten to do such a thing?"

  He shrugged. "I do not know. I suppose that being such a poorly raised, ungentlemanly person, I do not know any better than to threaten you."

  "But you do know better," Agnes replied.

  "No, no. It must be in my blood, for my father did similar things," he continued.

  Agnes scoffed. She could see exactly what he was doing and, although he might think he was being clever, she was unimpressed. "I am not some petty little pretty thing such as Your Grace grew up around. I am a competent lady. If you shall not provide me with a reference, I shall write to Lady Dorset. She shall provide me the reference I need and nobody will have to contact your person."

  "Ah, but if you must wait for her reference to arrive, then you must remain another week by my side. Which is well worth the trouble from my perspective," he said with a smile.

  "Very well, sir," she said, turning about and storming out of the room. "If you do not mind, I have matters to attend to." And she closed the door.

  Agnes could scarcely believe it. He had been such a sweet, loving, gentle, respectful man. How could he turn about and be so cruel so suddenly? But such was the way with people who always got what they asked for. Life came easy to them. And when they did not get their way, they no longer knew what to do with themselves. They would flail and complain and do all they could to either get attention or get their way. It was like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

  And, most likely, they did this because it had worked in the past.

  Without a doubt, the duke had in the past been faced with rejection or refusal of some kind, performed a similar stunt of blackmailing, insulting, or simply placing hurdles for the other party, and they had given up and let him have his way. Life always came easy for these people.

  She would not allow life to come easy to him this time. She knew how to fight for her own good. And she knew that she had to. She was not about to let her love for the man get in the way of common sense, of her other commitments, or her dignity.

  Sitting down at her desk in her room, she knew she would not have long to compose the letter before Georgia awoke. It would have to be brief, and she would need to send another servant into town to post it. It was going to be some trouble, but, at the end of the day, all it meant was a little more waiting.

  "Your Most Excellent Grace,

  It is under unfortunate circumstances that I must write to you so hastily. I have encountered no small trouble in extracting a reference from his Grace, Lord Portsmouth, and require your assessment of my character for employment.

  My employment with his Grace is coming to its natural conclusion and I must move on. I have already secured a place in the house of Sir Stuart, in Carmarthen in Wales, I have procured a new governess, and I am ready to depart as soon as she is installed.

  And yet, due to an unnatural infatuation with my person, his Grace refuses to write me a favorable reference. It is not easy for me to say this, but he has confessed a most improper affection and proposed to me. It is not befitting of my station, considering my mother's background and her behavior concerning her family, for me to wed a man of his stature, and it is not at all proper for me to remain in the company of a man who has such inappropriate feelings toward me. I have benefited himself and his sister greatly but, alas, he wishes for me to remain in his company, to the point of sabotaging my future employment.

  Therefore, I humbly request a reference from your person, that I might escape.

  Yours sincerely

  Agnes Hubbard."

  That would do very well. The duchess might be of the same class as the duke, but she was also Agnes's dear friend, who would no doubt side with Agnes over the duke himself. Agnes did not need his reference or his support. She did not need him. He was probably angrier with her by the day, but this did not trouble her. In fact, it was for the best if he did not like her anymore. Much easier.

  She did not go to dinner, and once again the tray waited for her outside her bedroom door. Once again she saw that no matter what she did to hurt the duke, his love for her never faded. She might attempt to anger him, she might defy his orders and treat him as a child, she might insult him... But at the end of the day, when she locked herself in her room and refused to come out, he would make sure she had something hearty to eat, and the means to wash her face if she had been crying yet again.

  Not that crying was easy for her, even in the hardest of situations. She would not loosen more than a few drops of tears at a time.

  Agnes realized it was not that she could not cry.
She hated it. It made her feel weak and fragile. So long as she held her tears back, only one or two escaped, and she could stop crying swiftly, she was in control of her life. Or she could maintain the illusion that she was in control. If she could maintain power over her own body, she would never be truly powerless.

  With her thumb, she gently wiped away the single tear which had escaped.

  Chapter 37

  The replacement never appeared the next day. Agnes was not sure why, but she felt the duke had something to do with it. He was the only one who wanted her to stay. The young lady Agnes had been in contact with was more than eager to begin working for someone so high-profile, especially considering she was local, so she would be able to see her parents on days off. And she could hardly have been delayed so seriously during the one-hour ride to the mansion. Either something awful had happened, or the duke had interfered.