Lord of the Storm: The Common Elements Romance Project (Regency Gothic Book 1)

by Arietta Richmond

  Since his arrival the other day, it seemed to her that he’d had nothing to say about any of the things she loved, or was even vaguely interested in.

  He was from another world – to her, he appeared as if he had noticed his own inadequacy as a conversational partner in this company, and was unsure of how to proceed in the face of that fact.

  ~~~~~

  From the moment that he had first seen her, as he approached the house at Hesterton Park, Max had found himself unaccountably drawn to Miss Gardner. Which was rather difficult, as he knew that his mother, and Lady Bromley, both held high hopes for him being taken with Lady Grace.

  Lady Grace seemed just the same as she had as a child – presented in a far more ladylike fashion, of course, but otherwise the same. Her hair prone to wildness, her cheeks lightly sun touched, and the spark of mischief in her eyes. He could not, therefore, see her as anything but the Grace he had played with, who seemed more like a sister to him than a woman he might ever consider marrying.

  Now, as he walked with Lady Grace amongst the ruins of the castle, he found that impression reinforced. As such, he was completely failing at polite conversation – too distracted by watching Miss Gardner walking about with his young sister, and simply not really interested in the history of the tumbled pile of stone before him.

  He knew that Lady Grace was irritated by his taciturn manner, but he simply could not find the energy to converse pointlessly. Watching Miss Gardner was far more appealing.

  Chapter Five

  Theodore patiently explained all that he knew of the Spectre’s Cloister, playing the part of tour guide with good grace. But all the while, his irritation with Lady Violet grew. She had gone from being a rather repressed and pretentious young woman, to now being overly expressive of her fascination with the ruin, fluttering at him, flirting, and generally making him want to treat her like a naughty child.

  He gritted his teeth, and remained polite.

  Overhead, the clouds which had been drifting across the landscape thickened, and the crisp wind picked up even more. It began to howl through the open arches and broken windows of the building, as if the ghosts of the place disapproved of the invasion of their home. Perhaps, if he told Lady Violet some of the more morbid rumours of hauntings which the villagers had passed on about Spectre’s Cloister, she might tire of the whole expedition.

  He turned to her, just as a particularly strong gust of wind produced a banshee howl from the ruin.

  “Do you believe in ghosts, Lady Violet?”

  Her head snapped around towards him, and he watched a shiver run over her.

  “N… no, I don’t. But… here, with that terrible noise… I can see how easy it might be to do so…”

  “There are many rumours of hauntings seen here, not just the crusader knight, but others, supposed to have been trapped here over the centuries, or fallen to their deaths amongst these stones. The villagers make a habit of collecting such tales, and probably embellishing them – but I always feel that there must be a grain of truth somewhere in those tales, some piece of reality which formed the seed from which the tale grew.”

  The wind howled again, on cue, and she shivered.

  “Perhaps… perhaps we should go back to the carriage, and partake of some refreshment…”

  Above, the clouds had gathered to almost blanket the sky, and Theodore looked across the courtyard to where Lady Grace stood with Lord Chesterport. Grace was looking up, her face turned into the wind, and a broad smile on her face, as at home in the storm driven wind as in the sun. Lord Chesterport shook his head, after speaking to her, and turned back towards the carriage. It seemed that he wished to get out of the weather, but Lady Grace did not.

  Lady Violet was looking at Theodore, expectantly.

  “If you wish to do so, please do. I would like to stay here a moment longer.”

  Lady Violet glared at him, but could not, politely, insist that he accompany her.

  After a moment, she simply turned, and walked away. Beyond her, he saw Amelia leading Lady Jane back towards the carriage as well.

  Theodore watched her until he was sure that she was on the correct path, and would come to no harm, then turned back. Lady Grace was just disappearing amongst the tumbled stones, moving deeper into them. He cursed under his breath – the way that she was going was not, really, all that safe. He set out after her.

  As he did, a great peal of thunder boomed overhead, and lightning flashed down to strike the very highest stones of the ruined keep, causing some to fall and crash down below. He began to run, but even as he did, the skies opened, and a torrent of rain poured down upon him, such that he could barely see in front of him.

  It was, therefore, rather fortunate that he had spent so much time amongst these ruins in his life. He ran regardless, recognising shapes in the haze of rain, until he rounded a corner to see Lady Grace crouched against the meagre shelter of a small fallen archway, just as another bolt of lightning struck the tower. Theodore sprinted towards her, sliding on the damp ground – she wasn’t safe in that spot – he needed to get her to better shelter.

  He reached her, and bent to scoop her up, pulling her against him, then half carried her through two more arches, and under a crazily tilted lintel.

  The sudden cessation of the beat of rain upon them was welcome, as the still solid roof of the small room protected them.

  She sagged against him, shivering, her clothing sodden, and he wrapped his arms around her, suddenly acutely aware of her very womanly shape. She looked up, her green eyes wide and worried, then relaxed – she had not, until that moment, realised who held her, it seemed.

  Silence surrounded them, but for the sounds of the storm, and he felt as if time slowed, as if they were suspended in a magic bubble, separated from the world. Her lips parted slightly, and he could no longer bear it – he lowered his head to hers, and kissed her, softly, then more deeply, a kiss filled with all of the longing he felt, for her, for the idyllic life that they were losing, and for a life he knew he could never have.

  She was completely still for a moment, and then, to his utter delight and despair, she responded to that kiss, her lips moving against his, and her tongue darting out to trace the shape of his mouth. After some time, they drew apart, and her eyes were filled with wonder. She whispered something, so quietly that he could not truly make out the words. But it sounded like…

  “My Lord of the Storm…”

  ~~~~~

  Grace knew that she should have gone back to the carriage with Max, but she simply could not face it. The wind in her face felt good, blowing away the stuffy pretentiousness of his conversation, and she slipped further in amongst the ruins, wanting just a little time alone. In her mind, the image of Lady Violet simpering at Theodore still burned, and she suspected that, had she gone straight back to the carriage, she might have been unpardonably impolite.

  Then, as she reached a smaller inner courtyard, thunder boomed, and lightning struck seemingly directly above her. She shrieked, startled and suddenly afraid, as some stones tumbled down only feet in front of her. She froze for a moment, then, as a deluge of rain fell upon her, scurried forward to crouch against a wall, in the only small piece of shelter she could see.

  What if more stones fell?

  She shivered, and the rain fell harder, a grey curtain between her and the world. She was a fool, a complete fool, to have come further in here. She looked up, and suddenly it was as if time had stopped, as if she had stepped into a fantasy world. In front of her, her dream played out – a barely discernable man came towards her through the rain. He reached for her, and pulled her up, then almost carried her through more archways and under a partly fallen lintel, into a small dark space.

  Dazed, she simply went, wondering if she dreamed again, if this was real at all. In the small space, at least there was no rain beating down upon her, but she was cold, and utterly drenched. He held her against him, and she was acutely aware of the hard planes of his body, and the heat
of his hands where they cradled her. She lifted her head, and blinked the water from her lashes so that she could meet his eyes. The dream sense continued unabated, for it was Theodore who held her. She could not speak, and it seemed that words had deserted him as well. They stayed that way for some indeterminable time, until, finally, he lowered his head and kissed her, exactly as he had in her dreams.

  But this was no dream. The warmth of his lips on hers sent a shiver through her, and heated her sodden body like a flame.

  She heard herself issue forth a little moan, and softly, tentatively, moved her lips and tongue to taste him. In her dream-like state, she found thoughts flowing through her mind – thoughts which she had never before allowed to escape. Thoughts such as the fact that she had wanted this kiss to happen, not just since her daydream, but for years, and had been afraid to even contemplate that idea, and what it implied.

  She forced the thought away, and they broke the kiss, both breathing hard. The words slipped from her mouth, as the last piece of the dream to be made real.

  “My Lord of the Storm…”

  He looked at her, with the quirk of an enquiring eyebrow, and suddenly, with that well-known gesture, he was just Theodore again, and Grace was embarrassed, confused, and hoped desperately that he had not heard what she’d said.

  “Lady Grace… the rain is easing – listen – and we should go back to the carriage as soon as possible, before you catch a dreadful chill.”

  So, he was going to pretend that the kiss had not happened… She sighed, and accepted that it was, perhaps, for the best that they both carry on with that pretence.

  “You also, Mr Gardner, for you are quite as drenched as I. Thank you for coming after me. I confess that a lightning strike is not so gothically exciting when experienced that closely!”

  They laughed, then went cautiously out into the diminishing rain. Like most summer storms, it had come and gone rapidly, leaving a clearing blue sky in its wake.

  Chapter Six

  After their arrival back at Hesterton Park, Theodore was invited to stay for dinner, and some of Lord Bromley’s clothes pressed into service to allow him to change out of his wet garments.

  Over that dinner, conversations were centred around the events of the day, and Lady Violet seemed to have regained her airs of nobility, although she kept a certain warmth about her when talking to Theodore, who had been seated to her left. This was, perhaps, because Lady Jane had soundly declared him a hero for rescuing Grace from where she had been trapped by the storm, and no-one had been able to dissuade her from that view.

  When taking their places in the parlour afterwards, Lady Violet was quick to observe Theodore sitting fairly near to the pianoforte, and immediately offered to play, to everyone’s delight. Grace herself was not very much in the mood to exchange pleasantries with Lord Chesterport, and so seated herself with Lady Jane, leaving Lord Chesterport in Amelia’s care, who seemed to find the charge bearable enough.

  Theodore, having been left quite apart from everyone else, rose and joined Lady Violet by the pianoforte, standing behind her and watching her play, much to her unconcealed satisfaction.

  Grace felt flushed and irritated – what did Lady Violet hope for? Her mind went back, again, and again, to that kiss in the ruins. Had she dreamed it? She felt as if she must have, yet the memory of the taste of him assured her that it had happened.

  Lady Jane, being young enough to be unconcerned by matters of the heart, did not notice her distraction, and chattered on cheerfully about the day, and the possibility of ghosts, and how impressive it had looked when the lightning had struck the stones of the castle.

  Grace’s reverie was interrupted when her mother spoke. It seemed that the present seating arrangement and conversations would not do for Lady Bromley.

  “Grace, my dear, will you show us the painting you have been working on? I was just telling Lady Chesterport how talented you are.”

  She turned to Grace, expectantly.

  “Oh, I am afraid it is not ready, I –” Grace began, but there was no refusing her mother – a steely look had come into her eye. Grace knew that expression.

  She gave in, curtseyed, and left the room.

  Upon her return, nothing much had gone on in the parlour, with the exception of Lady Jane seeking the embrace of her Mama. She could barely keep her eyes open, but she insisted that she was not sleepy in the least.

  Of course, Lady Violet had taught her that it is unbecoming for a lady to appear half asleep when in company.

  Grace handed her work to Lady Bromley, who showed it off to the entire room.

  ~~~~~

  Much to Lady Violet’s disdain, which he cared not one whit for, Theodore turned away from the pianoforte and came closer to examine the soft ink and watercolour landscape.

  It was, of course, a depiction of the Spectre’s Cloister Castle – using, as a base, the sketch which Grace had made during their previous visit there, if he wasn’t mistaken – and yet the colours had kept no semblance of the sunny day it had been when she had been drawing. In her painting, the sky was grimly overcast, and the whole painting had a tense, sombre atmosphere about it. An atmosphere not too different from the one they had experienced earlier in the day. The painting even depicted lightning striking the stones, exactly as had happened.

  “It does look exceedingly gothic.” Theodore remarked, turning to Grace.

  “I tried to paint it as you described it to me, rather than how I saw it with my own eyes, Mr Gardner. Have I succeeded?”

  She asked the question with the inner satisfaction of the fact that she already knew that she had succeeded, judging by Theodore’s bemused expression.

  “I feel as if I’m there. Indeed, it evokes the same sensation that this afternoon’s events did – with less dampness of course.”

  Theodore smiled, and went back to gazing at the painting as everyone laughed.

  ~~~~~

  “What do you think of it, Max?” the Marchioness asked, with what seemed to be a bit of annoyance that her son had not said anything about Lady Grace’s art.

  “It is – fine indeed.” Lord Chesterport paused, seeing all eyes upon him. He straightened himself from his relaxed position and came to look at it more intently. “It depicts the ruins of the castle we visited, in conditions rather similar to those we experienced today, does it not?”

  “Yes, the Spectre’s Cloister. I sketched it during an earlier visit,” she replied politely, wondering how it could be that he was only now realising what the whole discussion had been about.

  “Yes, I see it. You are very talented, Lady Grace.”

  It was as bland as all of his other comments. Grace had nothing left to do but thank him and return the painting to her rooms.

  After passing from the illuminated parlour into the cool and shady corridor, she felt a strong desire to not go back again. It was all so hard, trying to please a man who seemed absolutely indifferent towards her – and moreover, had absolutely nothing to say, especially as she had no particular interest in speaking to him in the first place!

  ~~~~~

  Max winced internally as he saw the irritation flare in Lady Grace’s eyes. He knew that his comments had been banal and simplistic, yet his mind had been utterly elsewhere when his mother had spoken.

  He had barely noticed the conversation about the painting, for he had been enraptured by Miss Gardner, where she sat beside him. She was delightful – bright and charming, polite yet thoughtful, and pretty in a completely unstudied way.

  Even her scent of lavender was uncomplicated and fresh. Nonetheless, he felt almost dizzy. He wanted to touch her – wanted, if he was honest with himself, to kiss her. He had never felt that way about a woman before – he had felt lust in his life – no man reached the age of twenty without doing so – but he had not felt this strangely sweet commingling of desire and protective care before. She had utterly captivated him from the start, and everything he had seen of her, from her unstinting support of her f
riend, to her kindness to his sometimes-annoying youngest sister, had only increased his appreciation for her.

  He rather thought that he was falling in love with her, and was utterly unsure of how to deal with that fact.

  ~~~~~

  For the sake of her mother only, Grace went back into the room once the painting had been stored securely away. Seeing her enter, Lady Bromley asked Amelia to take a turn at playing the pianoforte, so that Grace might sit next to Max.

  This change did not seem to thrill any of the persons involved, but nothing could be done, and they made no protest.

  The only one who could consider it advantageous was Lady Violet, who could now sit beside Theodore on one of the couches. And yet, apparently feeling slighted by his earlier abruptly leaving her side, she decided to take Lady Jane and see her up to bed, which earned her Lady Chesterport’s gratitude.

  Before she went out the door, she glanced back - to see if Theodore had been affected by her departure, Grace thought. For the moment, it seemed that she was content to convince herself that he was speaking with Amelia of the very incident and left being content, as far as Grace could tell from observing her.

  Before the evening was over, the Marchioness announced that they would be leaving the next day, as there were matters awaiting her attention back at Chesterport Grange. Grace had to feign unhappiness at her words and express her discontent with them leaving so soon, while secretly rejoicing in the matter.

  Thankfully, she was saved by Amelia, who had her wits about her and could aptly express a most sincere sounding regret. After all was said and done, they exchanged their good nights and went up to their chambers. When Amelia was at the top of the stairs, Grace caught her by the hand and rushed her in her room.

  “Oh, Amelia, it is finally over!” Grace whispered with a wide smile. “I was sure that they would never be out of our lives, and we would be stuck with their airs forever!”