Enchanted by a Lady's Talent: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Abigail Agar

  “Miss Blackwell, I must ask you something very important. You shall surely tell me that it is none of my business, but this is so deeply important. I need you to hear me.”

  “Out with it, Mr. Sinclair,” she said, impatiently.

  “Miss Blackwell, are you in love with my employer, Mr. Brooks?” he asked.

  Pippa’s eyes became perfect circles and her mouth dropped into an O.

  “I beg your pardon?” she asked, ready to do exactly as he had said and launch into a speech about this being none of his business at all.

  “Please, Miss Blackwell. I know you are angry that I would ask this question, but it is very important. I have a warning for you if you do care for him. One that I think you need to know at once,” he said.

  Pippa spluttered and scoffed, finally shaking her head with a deeply unconvincing, “No!”

  George appeared disturbed by her response and, for a moment, he hung his head.

  “I should not be so surprised. I expect you have loved him for quite some time,” he said.

  “I do not know what you are speaking about,” Pippa insisted, although it was far too late to add any further denial to the matter.

  “Do you not? I think it is quite clear. Now, I must warn you against this affection you feel for Mr. Brooks,” he said.

  “I am sure that you must,” she replied in a dry, sardonic manner. “Mr. Sinclair, your jealousies are not lost on me. I do not understand how you could think it appropriate that you would come here and make such insistence that I tell you about my affections and that you do not approve of them, even before you have any idea as to what they are.”

  As she spoke, Pippa grew angrier and angrier, not understanding what could possess him to think he was anywhere close to doing something he ought to. There was no reason for this. George Sinclair needed to leave.

  “Please, wait. I promise you, my intentions are pure and good. I am not here to simply undo the affections you have for one another, Miss Blackwell. That is not at all what I want. If you love him, I wish that I could support it, I wish that I could tell you that he cares for you likewise. But that is not the case, Miss Blackwell. I must warn you against him because there is a very grave concern.”

  Pippa saw the pleading in his eyes, as if he really meant what he was saying. Maybe, just maybe, there really was a reason for his coming and urging her to consider staying away from Mr. Brooks. Even if she didn’t want to hear it, she had never seen George respond with such passion.

  “What is it, Mr. Sinclair? If you have something genuine to say, something true, come out with it,” she said.

  “He lied to you. About everything. Mr. Brooks has no intention of telling everyone that you had anything to do with the book. He has no intention of giving you the credit you deserve. I fear that his own greed has overcome him to such an extent that he is planning simply to have the book published and you are to be cast aside,” he said.

  “What? What do you mean? He promised me,” she said, trying to brush off the words. But they had been her greatest fear amid all of this. Pippa had worried that this might be the intention of Mr. Brooks and now, George was confirming that very fear. He was telling her the one thing she had never wanted to hear from anyone in regard to the plans for the book.

  “He lied, Miss Blackwell. He has told me numerous times that he intends to publish only under his own name. He is simply trying to appease you in the time leading up to the launch,” George said.

  “But why would he do that? He told me that he understands the importance of releasing the book under both our names. Beyond that, he knows that I shall throw a fit and tell everyone what he has done,” she said.

  “Which is why he wants to keep you appeased until the launch. Think about it, Miss Blackwell. If you tell everyone now, it will ruin the launch of the book. You may prove that you know all about the novel, but if he strings you along and then releases it in his own name and you suddenly come out, saying you were the author…” he trailed off, letting her complete the thought.

  “Then I shall sound like a madwoman who is simply obsessed with the novel,” she said.

  “Precisely. You can do nothing once it has been released,” George said.

  Pippa was overcome by emotion. She hated hearing this. She did not wish to acknowledge that it was even possible, but George’s words were far too convincing, and she had long-since been afraid of this. If it were true, if Mr. Brooks really had this plan in place, there was nothing she could do to undo it, or to make herself feel better.

  She had to decide whom she would trust. Thus far, George really had been jealous and irritating. Mr. Brooks was the man she loved. He had cared for her, made her feel wonderful. Why should she not trust him? Perhaps this was all an effort to try and ruin their affection simply because George clearly liked her.

  “I beg your pardon, Mr. Sinclair, but that is enough,” she said.

  “What? How can you say that? What do you mean?” he asked, shocked.

  “I mean that I cannot discount what I have been told by Mr. Brooks. You have brought me no proof of what you say,” she told him.

  “You have asked for none. I thought you were wise enough to take my word for it, to see what is right in front of you. But if you wish for proof, I have it here in my pocket,” he said, reaching in.

  Pippa heard the sound of crackling paper, wishing that she could be anywhere else and discussing anything different from this topic.

  “Tell me, when did he say the evening of the book launch is?” George asked.

  “The thirteenth. Why?”

  George handed her the folded paper. Pippa took it and unfolded to reveal a poster about the event when the book was to be released.

  “See the date?” George asked.

  She saw it. She could not see anything else.

  The book was actually going to be released on the twelfth of August. Mr. Brooks had lied to her about the date which he had planned to release the book to the public. She would not have known about the lie until the following day, when everyone had already made their purchase and had already congratulated Mr. Brooks on a job well done for the writing of the novel.

  “I am so sorry to have to tell you all of this,” George said, sounding truly apologetic.

  Pippa crumpled up the paper in her hand and stood, staring at the ground. She had no idea what else to do. This was all too much. She was heartbroken, utterly heartbroken.

  “Why would he do this? All for the credit?” she asked in disbelief. Her words carried on a soft breeze and Pippa realised that she was not actually asking George. She was just putting the question out there for the wind.

  Nevertheless, he answered her.

  “The credit, yes. That is one part. He wanted to make the book better, to claim it as his own. That is his way, unfortunately. He really wanted people to think that he has a mind as intelligent and poetic as your own. He wants the respect of the men in society,” George said.

  Pippa flashed back to the night of the ball and seeing how well he had interacted with all those men. Had Mr. Brooks used her as an excuse to attend and spend time with those in society who were his superiors?

  “But I fear that the worst part is that he viewed it as a game. He does that from time to time. He is amused but the fact that he can sway people to his will, bend them wherever he wishes,” George said.

  “Why are you telling me all of this? Why could you not simply let me rest in my ignorance?” she asked.

  George sighed and leaned against the beam opposite her, looking out at the fields beyond the home.

  “I fear that you mean too much to me to do that. I could not let you look like a fool, nor could I allow him to continue breaking your heart,” George said.

  “But if you had, if you had simply let him do those things, my hatred for him would be full. As it is, I now must decide whether to confront him about all of this before it is even done,” she said. “I feel as though this is going to be far more difficult than if I could
just hate him once this is all over.”

  George laughed gently, trying to lighten her mood as best he could.

  “Miss Blackwell, I fear that you are never going to see your true value or worth. So long as you continue to give your heart to men such as Mr. Blackwell, you are going to find it broken. I know that you do not love me, but I assure you that I would never do such a thing as that,” George said.

  Although none of this made her care for George more, none of it made her love him, she still felt a rush of peace when he spoke. She was relieved that she had learned the truth before giving any more of her heart to Mr. Brooks.

  But now, she had something very important to do. It was time to confront Mr. Brooks.

  Chapter 28

  Doyle paced around his study, eager to see Miss Blackwell and tell her how he felt. It was time. Now that he knew that George felt the same way about her, he recognised the urgency in telling her of his love for her.

  Was he nervous? Extremely. Did he expect her to admit to loving him in return? Not at all.

  But Doyle knew that he had put this off for far too long.

  “Please tell me what comes of it,” Clarissa said, just as she was departing. She had come around again, much to his appreciation.

  “I shall. I cannot believe that I am actually going to do this, but I promise to tell you what she says once I have an answer,” he said.

  “Excellent. James and I shall eagerly anticipate the news. Until then, I wish you all the best, brother. You are going to make a very fine husband one day. Remember that and tell her. It can hurt nothing,” Clarissa said.

  Doyle laughed nervously, but once Clarissa was gone, he was even more anxious. Now, as he waited, he had only himself to converse with. He felt that he made for a very poor conversationalist and it was infuriating to have to speak with himself. Although his sister had always been so supportive of him, Doyle appreciated her dose of realism whenever he grew too comfortable with the way things were.

  But the time was passing and Doyle realised with a sudden worry that Miss Blackwell was running late.

  His first thought was concern that something had happened to her. If something had, indeed, taken place, he wanted to know that she was all right. And if she was not, he would do anything he could to help her.

  Doyle wondered what was going on. If Miss Blackwell was simply running late, it was the first time. She never came late.

  Again, he had been worried for such a long time about her mother and father. There was a chance that they had found out where she was going and put a stop to it. It was something that she and Doyle had spoken of often as a possible concern.

  Wishing that he had a way of contacting her, Doyle rushed to the window. The least he could do was to look outside.

  Maybe he would see her coming. Maybe he would see smoke in the distance and realize that there had been more riots blocking her from coming.

  But he saw neither of these things. Simply the peaceful day outside before his eyes.

  Doyle wasn’t sure what to do. By the time forty minutes had passed since their meeting time, he recognized that she was probably not coming.

  He considered his options. Doyle could continue to sit and wait, hoping that Miss Blackwell would finally show up, or he could go out looking for her.

  This option would potentially leave her uncomfortable. After all, did he really want to be so desperate that he was willing to be seen rushing to and from in search of her?

  That would do nothing for his reputation. He wanted her to think of him as a strong man, not as a desperate, lonely, bookseller. Whichever the truth may be, he didn’t want her to think ill of him.

  At last, Doyle decided to turn to another choice.

  He was well aware of the fact that she was in constant contact with her dearest friend. Therefore, he had no choice but to reach out to Miss White.

  Doyle took out his paper and a pen and ink and crafted the letter.

  Dear Miss White,

  I hope this letter finds you well. I know that you are probably in contact with Miss Blackwell on this lovely day. I do hope that you can get her the message that I am here, waiting.

  We typically meet on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.

  It is unlike her to miss one of our meetings. I am concerned and would like to be informed as to her whereabouts just to make sure that she is all right.

  If you do not mind, please write back to me and tell me that she is okay. If she is not, I should like to go and visit her. I would be grieved to learn that anything had happened to her.

  Forgive me for allowing my mind to jump to that, but it is so unlike her to not be here.

  Thank you,

  Doyle Brooks

  He rushed out and found someone to take the note to Miss White. Putting a coin in the hands of a young boy, he was relieved to know that the letter would get to her safely. That is, he knew that it would get to her safely once the boy brought her response back and Doyle could pay him the rest of the promised fee.

  In the meantime, however, he waited. Waiting was nearly torture. Not knowing what was going on or why Miss Blackwell had not come was driving him mad.

  He wondered what it could be, and his mind went to all manner of terrible places.

  However, the boy soon returned. He came back with a letter from Miss White and Doyle opened it as he placed a coin in the boy’s hand.

  Dear Mr. Brooks,

  I read your letter. I read it and I was furious.

  Miss Blackwell is my dearest friend. She is like a sister to me.

  Do you think that you would treat her the way in which you have is simply appalling. I hope that you never again have the opportunity to hurt someone so deeply.

  You ought to be ashamed of everything which has taken place. I honestly was not aware that there were men so callous as you are. And yet, you continue to outdo anyone else I meet.

  No, I have very little else to say. But you must hear me when I say this.

  Stay away from Miss Blackwell. You have no reason to go near her anymore. I just want you to leave her alone; she wants you to do the same thing. She has told me that she wants nothing more to do with you. It is over. All your games and all the time what you have spent with one another has come to an end.

  Whatever it is that has led you to this terrible mistake of character, I sincerely hope you figure out a way to be a better man.

  Regards,

  Miss Fiona White

  Shocked and dismayed, Doyle could hardly bear to read through the letter a second time, and yet he forced himself to do just that so that he may find answers within it. He had to understand the reason for this vehemence.

  But nothing made sense.

  Knowing that his sister was waiting to hear what had happened after he expressed his love to Miss Blackwell, Doyle decided to go and visit her and James. When he arrived, it was only James present at the house. Clarissa had gone into town and he could have the privacy that men could only enjoy when they were with one another.

  “What is going on with you? One moment, you are on a high. The very next, you are downtrodden. What is going on? What has happened?” James asked.

  “It is awful. I wish that I could undo everything, but I am stuck. Completely stuck,” Doyle said.