“Ladies and gentlemen, if I might have your attention for a short while. I hope that you are enjoying the evening, and that you will continue to do so, in celebration of not one, but two betrothals.” Grace saw frowns mar the faces of both her mother and Lady Chesterport as Max’s words caused them confusion and consternation. He went on as if unaware of their reactions, but she was quite certain that he watched them too. “Tonight, Miss Amelia Gardner has done me the honour of agreeing to be my wife, and Lady Grace Wellford has agreed to marry Mr Theodore Gardner, heir to the Baron of Bellchurch. I ask you to drink to our future happiness.”
A roar of applause went up in the room, and footmen rushed out with trays of filled glasses. The people around them surged forward to congratulate them, even as Grace watched both her mother and Lady Chesterport fall into a faint.
Chapter Twelve
The closest gentlemen to them caught the two fainting women, and they were taken to some couches at the side of the room. Grace looked at the others, then turned to their well-wishers.
“If you would excuse us, we need to see to our mothers.”
They turned, and hurried across the room. As they reached the couches, so did Lady Bellchurch, and Lord Bromley.
Lady Bellchurch, apparently being far better prepared than anyone else, produced smelling salts from her reticule, and mercilessly applied them to the two ladies, who spluttered back to awareness within moments. Lady Bromley’s face was white as she met Grace’s eyes.
“I didn’t dream it, did I?”
“No, you did not – Amelia is to marry Max, and I am to marry Theodore. I am sorry that your fondest hopes have been dashed, Mama, but be assured, we will all be far happier this way.”
Grudgingly, Lady Bromley nodded. She sat there for a short while, as colour slowly returned to her cheeks, sipping the drink she had been handed. Then, with a smile pasted back onto her face, she turned to Lady Chesterport and Lady Bellchurch.
“It seems we have some weddings to plan, ladies. Although our children have soundly rejected our matchmaking, I trust that they will have the kindness to allow us to indulge in providing them with the most beautiful wedding celebration which can be imagined.”
“Indeed, it is only right that they should.”
Lady Chesterport’s voice was shaky, but determined. Lady Bellchurch looked at them both, as if rather amused by it all, then smiled broadly.
“I suspect that the first order of the day, then, is to agree where each wedding will actually take place.”
Both of the other ladies spoke at once, delivering conflicting opinions on the matter. The two couples looked at each other, then back to their parents, who were now totally absorbed by the discussion. By unspoken consent, the four of them rose, and slipped away to join the dancers now forming up on the floor.
They spent the rest of the evening in a delirium of happiness – any challenges that might arise could be dealt with another day – tonight was for celebrating the fact that the key to happiness for all of them, once thought irretrievably lost, had been found.
~~~~~
Very late that night, as they sat beside each other on the couch in the private parlour attached to their guest suites, Grace and Amelia spoke of all that had happened, since the day that Amelia had left Hesterton Park.
So very much had changed – and all for the better.
“You will be a Marchioness, Amelia. I will enjoy seeing my mother adjust to that, for she has ever been disparaging of your position in society, no matter how much she likes you as a person. I think that she will be far nicer to you now. It is silly, I think, that it matters to her, but it does.”
“I agree – it is silly, and truly, I care nothing for rank or importance – all I care about is that I will be with Max. Although, I cannot say that I will not enjoy living here. This house is truly amazing. Do you know, there are some paintings, at the far end of the gallery upstairs, which have very much the same feel as that painting you did of the Spectre’s Cloister? The ones up there are in oils, of course, but still. They are, I believe by some Flemish masters – but truly, your painting evokes the same mood. You should see them.”
“Oh! That is very flattering of you to say so. Do you remember exactly where they are?”
“Of course I do, it is imprinted on my memory, for it was as we stood in front of those paintings that Max proposed to me. Now, every time I see them, I will remember that, and our outing to the Spectre’s Cloister, when you got caught in the rain, and…”
“…and Theodore found me. I’ve never told you this before Amelia, but when he found me, he knew exactly where to take me in that tumble to get me under shelter, and when he did…
he kissed me. It was wonderful. For a long time, I thought that I would never have the chance to be kissed by him again. And now… now I will. He proposed to me, as tonight’s storm began, out in the gardens here.”
“Let us hope that storms always bode so well for both of us, then. For now, we should sleep – the next few weeks will be beyond busy, I have no doubt. But… thank you for being my friend for so long, and I am so glad that now, you will be my sister too.”
They embraced, and, yawning, each went to bed, secure in the knowledge that love had prevailed.
Epilogue
In the end, Lady Bromley came out of the mothers’ competition the winner, and the weddings were held on the same day, at Hesterton Park.
The day dawned with the very last of the summer’s warmth, and proceeded to stay perfect until mid-afternoon. The weddings were perfect, with the church filled with local people, as well as Max’s friends and relatives. For Theodore, it would not have mattered where it was held, or what the weather was like – all that mattered was that he was marrying Grace. He suspected, watching Max, that he felt similarly about Amelia.
Both women looked more beautiful than ever, and Amelia’s gown, although embroidered by their mother, rivalled the magnificent modiste-created gown that Grace wore. When Theodore walked out of the church with Grace, the thought that she was his, irrevocably, filled his heart with joy.
In the carriage on the way back to Hesterton Park, she turned to him, and lifted her face for a kiss, which he obligingly provided.
As they drew apart, she sighed, and leant against his shoulder.
“Much as I know that the wedding breakfast needs to happen to keep our families happy, right now, what I would most like to do is run away from it all, with you – to take the horses and ride out across the district, to the Spectre’s Cloister and beyond, to run wild, as my mother always claimed I did, but this time with no one to tell us that we shouldn’t.”
Theodore laughed softly at the image her words brought to mind.
“I find myself in agreeance with that sentiment. Although I know that, should we go to the Spectre’s Cloister, I would be most tempted to stop there, and to revisit a certain small dark room in the ruins with you…”
“Oooh. Yes. That would be very pleasant indeed. But tell me, for I have wondered ever since that day – how did you know where that little room was, amongst all of the tumbled stones, in rain which could barely be seen through?”
Theodore felt a little sheepish as he answered her.
“Well… I must admit to having explored those ruins many, many times in my life, since I was a very small boy. And small boys think that they are invincible… so I have scrambled into every crevice, and dug about under teetering rocks, just because I could. I never found anything particularly remarkable, but I did find one door which is accessible, but very firmly locked. I have always wanted to go back, and find a way to unlock it one day.”
Grace tilted her head up and met his eyes.
“You’ve kept that from us, all these years! When we could have been exploring it too? How mean of you!”
“Well… I may have had no regard for my own safety, but I have always, always, tried to protect you.”
Grace sighed. “How can I possibly complain about that?”
&
nbsp; “You can’t, my darling. But perhaps I can show you more of it now….”
“Soon, please.”
~~~~~
The wedding breakfast seemed to go on forever, but, finally, most guests had departed, or settled in the parlour for the evening. Outside, a soft light bathed the countryside as twilight crawled towards darkness. Again, clouds were rolling in to darken the sky, as happened on so many summer afternoons and evenings.
Max and Amelia had excused themselves, claiming tiredness, and Grace and Theodore soon did the same. But when they reached their chamber, they wanted, at first, nothing more than to fall into each other’s arms, and kiss until they were breathless and heated. As they drew apart, Grace looked out of the window, across the rolling landscape. And a mad impulse took her. She turned back to Theodore.
“Let us sneak out, take the horses, and ride to the Spectre’s Cloister now. The twilight will last some hours more, and I want to celebrate the fact that mother can never again tell me not to run about the countryside.”
Theodore’s face lit with that smile which made him look so breathtakingly handsome.
“If you want to, my darling, although those clouds look as if there might be a storm.”
“I don’t care – if we get wet, so be it – it will be all the more fun. The day has been warm, I doubt we’d take a chill.”
“Then if you wish it, so be it.”
Fifteen minutes later, they slipped into the stables, and saddled their own horses – the staff had all been given leave to spend the evening celebrating in the servants’ parlour, so there was no one to see them as they rode off. Grace set a madcap pace across the hills, and they barely slowed until the Spectre’s Cloister came into view in the distance. Then, in kindness to the horses, they settled to a walk for the last part of the way.
Grace shook her hair back, feeling the gathering wind pull it out behind her, and reached to hold Theodore’s hand as they rode. Once they were close, he spoke.
“Go down past the main courtyard, and around to the other side, there is a small building that still has part of a roof, where we can tether the horses.”
It was as he had described, and once the horses were secured, Theodore took her hand and led her into the ruins.
“Show me first the locked door that you mentioned. I have a great curiosity about that.”
“As my Lady commands.”
He delivered a flourishing bow, and then took her hand again, leading her on.
They slipped through narrow spaces, and climbed over fallen piles of stone, until they came into a tiny inner courtyard. Off one side of that, a small room, with two sides of its walls fallen to rubble and barely any roof remaining, had a weathered wooden door visible in its back wall. A large stone beam had fallen from above its lintel, so that it partly crossed the space of the door, but it was covered in vines, so Grace supposed that it was unlikely to slip any further.
She went to the door, and put her hand to the gnarled and rusted handle. As Theodore had said, it was locked, for it would not turn, or move at all. The keyhole below it mocked her with its emptiness. Her curiosity made her wish that it would open – for what might one find behind a door locked for so long?
“Imagine what might be behind there…”
“Skeletons, ghosts, ghastly dungeons…”
“Or treasure…”
Grace looked at it – surely, there had once been a key, for there was a keyhole. Where would one hide a key to such a door?
She was, of course, mad to think that the key might still be here. After these centuries, someone would surely have found it. Still…
She slid her fingers across the stones around the door, and rising on her toes, pushed her fingers into the tiny space at the top of the door, where the lintel beam had sat, before its tumble to where it now sat. The top end of the stone beam was, of course, still partly in place, and the cavity had provided a place for the vines to set root, but still.
“Be careful Grace – there could be spiders in there – what do you hope to find?”
“I don’t know, I am just curious.”
“I have never been curious enough to poke my fingers into spaces like that – they wouldn’t fit, now, and when my hand was small enough, I wasn’t tall enough to reach.”
“Well, I have the advantage over you there. My fingers are small enough. And…” Excitement ran through her – there was something in there. The tips of her fingers had brushed against something that was definitely not plant or stone. She wriggled her hand further in, until her fingertips could curve over the surface of the object, and draw it out, “there is something here – this.”
She turned, and they stepped back away from the door into the courtyard, to get enough of the rapidly fading light to see what she held. It was a key. Theodore looked at her, and Grace felt her heart beating frantically.
“Do you think…”
His voice was a little shaky.
“…it could be the key to this door?”
Overhead, thunder boomed, and the sky lit with lightning. Grace squealed in surprise, and, on cue, the rain came down. Theodore took her hand, and they ran and scrambled through the ruins, until he pulled her into the same little room which they had sheltered in the first time.
She flung her soaked body into his arms, laughing, the key still clutched firmly in her hand.
“Kiss me, oh Lord of the Storm, kiss me until I no longer hear the thunder, or feel the dampness on my skin, until I know nothing but you. Tomorrow, we must find a way to use this key, and perchance the gift of the storm will be our fortune in treasure. But for now, just kiss me.
“Now and forever, gladly.””
He bent his head to hers, and did as she had asked.
The End
You’ll find a preview of Book 1 of the Nettlefold Chronicles Series
‘The Duke and the Spinster’
- after the ‘About the Author’ section of this book!
About the Author
Arietta Richmond has been a compulsive reader and writer all her life. Whilst her reading has covered an enormous range of topics, history has always fascinated her, and historical novels have been amongst her favourite reading.
She has written a wide range of work, from business articles and other non-fiction works (published under a pen name) but fiction has always been a major part of her life. Now, her Regency Historical Romance books are finally being released. The Derbyshire Set is comprised of 11 novels (9 released so far). The ‘His Majesty’s Hounds’ series is comprised of 17 novels, with the seventeenth having recently been released.
She also has a standalone longer novel shortly to be released, and two other series of novels in development.
She lives in Australia, and when not reading or writing, likes to travel, and to see in person the places where history happened.
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The Duke and the Spinster
Chapter One
“Really Garrett, you are just avoiding the matter! You can’t put it off indefinitely!”
The door shut solidly – not quite slammed, but close.
Garrett Rutherford, the Duke of Kilmerstan, stared gloomily at his near empty brandy glass. Above him on the wall, the portraits of his father and his grandfather, looked down upon him. He felt their disapproval keenly.
His mother was, of course, right – not that he liked to adm
it it. He could not avoid marriage forever, not if the title was to have an heir – for his cousin, Lord Giles Fortnum, would make a terrible Duke, and Garrett had no intention of allowing him to remain next in line for the title. But the eligible women available amongst the right strata of society were enough to make a man feel ill.
He was beyond tired of being hunted by them, as if he could be caught and manipulated into choosing a Duchess. The harder they tried, the more he resisted.
He had come to despise social occasions, and had hoped that, upon retiring to Kilmerstan Castle for the summer, he might largely avoid them. That assumption was proving irritatingly wrong.
First, there had been the invitation, a few weeks past, to an occasion of sorts to welcome Viscount Mooresfield home. He had chosen not to attend, and was grateful for it, for, by all reports, the evening had degenerated into a shouting match between Mooresfield and the Earl of Banfield – an unpleasant man at the best of times, and one who Garrett was particularly displeased with, as he had been attempting to court Garrett’s sister Isabelle for some months. Anything that Garrett could do to break that association, he would.
And now, an invitation to another event at Hallingbrook Grange – one which seemed to have some hope of being of a more genteel and appropriate nature, but which still did not appeal at all. For Mooresfield had disappeared, to London he believed, for a week after the last event to much gossip and speculation. And then, not long after his return, had announced, to everyone’s surprise, his betrothal to Marianne Jones, the Baker’s daughter!
He knew that Mooresfield had never been very concerned with status, having spent most of his life as a third son, and never expecting to inherit, but still! Marianne was a nice enough girl, but the ton would crucify the man for choosing a commoner with such a background. He could imagine the gossip that must already be circulating.
Lord of the Storm: The Common Elements Romance Project (Regency Gothic Book 1) Page 8