London Season Matchmaker Box Set: Regency Romance

by Lucy Adams

  What was worse, as the meal progressed and the wine refreshed, Lord Montrose appeared to become more and more at ease, eventually making one or two ribald comments that brought a flush to her cheeks, although Eliza noticed that the young widow, Lady Barclay, blushed furiously but did not remove her gaze from Lord Montrose. Her eyes seemed to glow as she continued to regard Lord Montrose, a small smile lifting one corner of her mouth.

  Eliza felt nauseous, hating that Lord Montrose was behaving so and that so many of the guests seemed to find his company so desirous when she herself found it both embarrassing and unwelcome.

  And all the while, Avondale had watched her steadily, barely lifting his eyes from her face. She could feel his attentions, wondering what he thought of Lord Montrose and praying that her embarrassment was not too apparent. It was almost impossible not to compare the two gentlemen, for Eliza knew that the duke would never have behaved as Lord Montrose did, for he had always been polite and charming, never allowing any bawdiness into either his words or his speech. When they had been courting, he had always treated her with a great deal of respect and consideration, and even more so when they had been in company. The difference between the two gentlemen was almost breath-taking, forcing Eliza to drag in air as she settled her hands in her lap, her desire to eat gone completely.

  This state of unsettledness continued for the remainder of the dinner, until, finally, the gentlemen were left to their port and the ladies were allowed to rise.

  “There shall be tea set out for us in the drawing room,” Lady Whitehaven said, a smile on her face as she spoke to the guests. “Gentlemen, I leave you in the safe hands of Lord Montrose, who shall bring you through to us all again very soon, I am quite certain.”

  Eliza blushed furiously at this obvious gesture of intimacy, seeing the knowing glances that flickered from one face to the next. She stepped away from the table, finding it hard to get her breath, the air feeling thick and her skin clammy.

  “Are you quite all right, Eliza?”

  Her mother’s gentle hand rested on hers for a moment, forcing her to come to a stop.

  Eliza buried her wry laugh and shook her head. “I think I shall take some air, Mama,” she murmured, honestly. “I find the room a little stuffy. You will not mind if I delay coming for tea for a few minutes?”

  Lady Whitehaven nodded understandingly. “Of course, my dear. You know where we shall be and the guests will not miss you so long as you are not too long.” She pressed Eliza’s hand for a moment before letting her go. “And take a shawl with you, for the gardens will be cool this evening.”

  Eliza promised she would and made to make for the door, only for a slight prickling sensation to catch her. Turning her head, she saw the duke watching her, a look in his eyes that stole her breath.

  He had heard every word she had said to her mother. He knew that she would be going out to the gardens and that she would be there alone. What an opportunity that would be for them to speak in private, for her to finally understand the reasons for his rejection of her.

  Her throat worked for a moment, sparks seeming to brush against her skin as she held his gaze. And then, without a single word to him, Eliza turned on her heel and made for the door, as though she were being chased away by his very presence.

  Chapter Seven

  It had not been Jeremy’s intention to overhear Eliza and Lady Whitehaven’s discussion, but he had been unable to help it. Lord Montrose’s loud voice was still filling the room but given that he was at the other end of the table, Jeremy had still been able to hear everything that was said.

  Eliza was to go out to the gardens for some air, for she was apparently finding the room stuffy and hot. That was, he suspected, only part of the reason for her desire to quit the room, for, as his eyes turned back towards Lord Montrose, he recalled just how embarrassed poor Eliza had seemed. Little wonder, given just how loud and abrasive Lord Montrose could be, although the rest of the guests had not appeared to consider him in such a way. Lord Montrose was not at all the sort of gentleman that Jeremy had ever considered Eliza would turn to, for he appeared to be lacking in consideration for her, lacking in good manners and propriety given some of his comments, and eager to push himself forward into other people’s considerations. To Jeremy, it seemed that Lord Montrose cared only for himself, seemingly unwilling to have anyone else take his place in anything. How could Eliza find herself encouraging such a gentleman’s courtship? It seemed quite ridiculous, for Lord Montrose certainly would not ever have anything akin to the love and affection that Jeremy had for Eliza. Lord Montrose might think well of her, might think her beautiful and elegant, but that would be as far as his considerations of her went. He would not treat her as she deserved but would continue to place his own needs and desires in front of her own. There seemed very little reason for Eliza to be seeking to further her acquaintance with the fellow and yet that was precisely what she was doing.

  Perhaps his rejection of her, his turning away from her, had broken her heart so terribly that she no longer cared who sought her hand in marriage. Perhaps she had decided that to allow one’s heart to become involved was not at all wise, given what had occurred with the love that that they had shared.

  Jeremy let out a soft groan, sitting back in his chair and eyeing the port in front of him with an eager eye. It would be so easy just to lose himself in the liquor, to let the cloud of whisky, brandy and port wash over him and chase his difficulties away for a time.

  Of course, it would not allow him to face the problem of Lady Eliza Wells and Lord Montrose. Nor would it help him in his search to discover who had been behind Rebecca’s disastrous situation, although the truth was, he had made very little progress in that matter either.

  Reaching for his port, he took a long sip and let the sweetness wash down his throat and infuse his chest. What was he to do? He knew that Eliza was now to be out walking in the gardens alone and, whilst his opportunity was readily presenting himself, something was holding him back. Was it fear? Fear that she might reject him yet again? That he would be pushing at her too hard if he was to speak to her again about what had occurred with Rebecca? After all, he had only just spoken to her before dinner, had spoken to her with more fervor and passion than he had meant, and yet there had been that flicker in her eyes, that glint that had given him a little hope.

  Perhaps Titania had been correct when she had stated that Eliza loved him still. What if she still carried him in her heart but did not want to admit it? What if his explanation finally allowed her the freedom to love him again? Was he truly going to sit at this table, drinking port with the other gentlemen and allow her to pass him by?

  “You are courting Lady Eliza Wells, are you not?”

  Jeremy froze, his port half way to his mouth as one of the other gentlemen addressed Lord Montrose.

  Lord Montrose sat back in his chair, an easy grin on his face. The liquor had obviously loosened his tongue, for he answered quite easily and without even a hint of hesitation.

  “Indeed,” he said, grandly, lifting his glass of port as though it were a toast to her. “Quite a delightful young thing, is she not?”

  One or two of the gentlemen murmured in agreement, although Jeremy could not find the strength to say anything.

  “But that Lady Barclay, however,” another gentleman said, a note of laughter in his voice. “She might be persuaded to accept your court also.” A sly look came into the fellow’s eyes as he looked at Lord Montrose, who, much to Jeremy’s horror, winked roguishly.

  “I am well aware of what you are suggesting, old boy,” Lord Montrose stated, loudly. “But I am currently quite settled with Lady Eliza Wells. She will do me rather well for a time, I think. She is quite respectable, genteel and whilst there is a spark of stubbornness about her, I am certain that I will be able to have her easily biddable in time.”

  Anger pierced Jeremy’s heart, forcing him to drag in air as he turned his face away from Lord Montrose, not wanting to see his arroga
nt smile. How could the gentleman speak of her in such a way? It was not to be borne!

  “Lady Barclay, I think, is not inclined towards courtship or marriage,” said another gentleman, as Jeremy fought to keep his temper under control. “Although she may be persuaded towards other things, I think.”

  A round of laughter ran about the room, although Jeremy did not join in. He disliked this sort of discussion intensely, and even more so when it was directed towards Eliza. He was more convinced than ever that Eliza did not deserve to be treated or spoken of in such a way by the gentleman who was supposedly courting her, wondering whether or not she knew of Lord Montrose’s true character.

  “Is that so?” he heard Lord Montrose murmur, turning his head to see the look of interest that had crossed the gentleman’s face. “I would not be entirely dissuaded from such a thing, I must confess. Lady Barclay is quite the lady!”

  “Beautiful,” someone added. “And it is quite the thing for a gentleman to have at least one mistress when they are married!”

  Another round of laughter. Jeremy felt as though he might explode with fury at any moment, furious that Lord Montrose should even be entertaining the idea of keeping Lady Barclay on the side whilst he was either courting or married to Eliza.

  “I cannot say that I can find any grounds to disagree with you about that!” Lord Montrose laughed, making all the gentleman chuckle and pass knowing glances towards one another.

  Jeremy had heard quite enough. Before he launched himself at Lord Montrose in a fit of temper, he rose and made his way to the door, noticed only by a few gentlemen who soon shrugged and returned their attention to the conversation.

  Walking along the quiet hallway, Jeremy let out a long breath, trying to quell the trembling anger that was biting at every part of him. How dare Lord Montrose speak so callously of Eliza? To consider that she could easily be set aside whilst he went to enjoy himself with his mistress? It was quite intolerable and all Jeremy wanted to do was go back into the dining room and plant Lord Montrose a facer – but his good sense held him back from doing such a thing. His other choice was, of course, to go in search of Eliza and tell her what he had overheard, praying that she would both be willing to listen to him and thereafter, believe what he had to say.

  Shaking his head, Jeremy took long strides in the direction of the gardens, not hesitating for another moment. The time had come to speak to her – either about what he heard or about Rebecca, whichever she wished to hear. He was not about to let this moment pass without taking a hold of it.

  Finding Eliza was easy enough. She was sitting on a wooden bench only a few feet from the door, her shawl wrapped around her shoulders and her face tipped up to the sky. The moon was high in the sky, sending its silky light over the gardens and cladding Eliza in even more beauty.

  Jeremy felt his breath taken from him as he watched her, feeling the same agony of regret that filled him every time he even thought of her or spoke her name.

  “Lady Eliza.”

  She lowered her head and looked at him, not showing any hint of surprise. Mayhap she had been expecting him, mayhap she had thought that, after what he had overheard, he would then come to speak to her alone. She did not seem unwilling to talk to him, did not rise to her feet and ask him to depart. Instead, she simply watched him as he took a few steps towards her.

  The air grew thick between them, the tension and expectation so palpable that it was as though he could reach out and touch it. Instead, he cleared his throat, put his hands behind his back and tried to smile.

  “Lady Eliza, I must talk to you.”

  Eliza let out a long, heavy sigh, as though she had been expecting as much. “Yes, Avondale. I thought you might wish to do so.”

  “Will you listen?”

  “What is it you wish to speak of?” she asked, pulling her shawl a little tighter as though it would be a protection for her heart. “The past? Lord Montrose? Titania?”

  “Titania?” He frowned, not understanding why she thought to mention her sister. “No, indeed not.”

  This seemed to throw her somewhat. “Oh.” She looked away, a slight frown appearing between her brows.

  “I have just come from the house,” Jeremy said, softly. “Oh, Lady Eliza, I could not bear to remain in Lord Montrose’s company for a moment longer. The way he spoke of you….” He trailed off, shaking his head as he tried to find the words to explain what he had heard whilst still taking her feelings into consideration.

  “You have spoken to Titania, then.” Eliza’s voice was dull, her face still turned away from his. “You seek to come between us both.”

  Jeremy spread his hands. “I will never force you to separate yourself from Lord Montrose, Lady Eliza,” he said, honestly. “I would, however like the opportunity to tell you what sort of gentleman he is, as well as the chance to explain what occurred between us two years ago.” He swallowed hard, seeing her finally look back at him. “Is that too much to ask?”

  Eliza sighed and shook her head, but it was not to be the answer that Jeremy had hoped for. “Avondale, I have made up my mind about Lord Montrose. I have already been shamed into facing my doubts about the man and I would not want to do so again.”

  He did not know what she was speaking of but took another earnest step forward, urgency coursing through him. “Lord Montrose does not care for you, Lady Eliza.”

  Her head shot up and he was astonished at the anger that seemed to burn in her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” Jeremy replied, slowly, “that the way he has spoken of you only a few minutes ago, in hearing of all the gentlemen there, was not the way a gentleman should speak of the lady he is courting.”

  Eliza stared at him for a moment before rising to her feet, her breath catching as she turned away from him. She took a few short steps, her whole frame tight with tension. Jeremy did not know what to say nor what to do, a trifle confused at her reaction.

  “Lord Montrose can be a little coarse, I grant you,” she said, in a strangled voice. “But that means nothing. It is simply that he needs to perhaps reconsider how much fine brandy he partakes of.”

  Jeremy shook his head, walking closer to her, his hand reaching out to touch her shoulder. Fire burned in his gut as he let his hand rest there, feeling her stop dead beneath his touch. His thumb grazed her neck, the softness of her skin, the gentle touch of her hair making his heart cry out for her all over again.

  She turned, then, but Jeremy did not let his hand fall. Instead, he waited until she was facing him before letting it settle there again, seeing the way her eyes flickered with uncertainty.

  He was not attempting to come between herself and Lord Montrose deliberately, nor was he lying about what he had heard, but he could well understand if Eliza thought that he was doing so in order to set her asunder. He had to try and reassure her, had to try and make her understand that he was telling her this simply for her own good, so that she would not walk into this marriage with her eyes shut.

  “I do not know if Lord Montrose has intentions of proposing to you, Lady Eliza,” Jeremy said, softly, looking deeply into her eyes. “He may very well do so soon but I beg of you to be careful. I am not expecting you to refuse him and return to me, although that would be the answer to my oft uttered, agonized prayers over you, but I tell you this simply because I want you to be careful.”

  “What did you hear Lord Montrose say?” Eliza asked softly, standing completely still, her eyes fixed on his. “I would hear it from you, Avondale.”

  Jeremy nodded, taking in a long breath and knowing that he would hurt her by his words. “I believe he was considering Lady Barclay most carefully,” he said, cautiously. “It was mentioned that a gentleman can often have a mistress and a wife.” He held his breath, seeing the words settle onto her. Eliza closed her eyes, her chest heaving with emotion as she considered what he had said. Jeremy fought the urge to pull her into his arms, to reassure her that he would never do such a thing should he be given the opportu
nity to have her by his side again.

  After a few moments, Eliza opened her eyes and looked up at him. “I do not know what to think,” she said, honestly. “That does not seem to me to be the sort of thing that Lord Montrose would say.”

  Shock rifled through him. “Are you suggesting that I am speaking mistruths for my own gain?”

  A groan escaped from her lips as she dropped her head, reaching up to cover her face with her hands.

  “Lady Eliza,” Jeremy said softly, seeing her agony and her confusion and allowing the hurt he felt over her disbelief to flee from him. “Eliza, I love you still. I have loved you every day of my life. I would not lie to you simply to pull you from him towards me. I tell you this so that you have the freedom to decide what you will do.” He could not help but reach out towards her, lifting her chin so that he might look into her eyes. Eliza dropped her hands and looked up at him, tears sparkling in her eyes, pain written into her face.

  Jeremy’s heart ached for her.

  “I have more to say,” he said, honestly. “I have more to tell you about Rebecca – my late wife – and all of the reasons I had for marrying her instead of remaining with you as I wished, but I think that now is perhaps not the time to do so.” As much as he longed to speak to her of it all, he could see that Eliza was struggling with all that she felt and did not want to burden her further. “Know this, however. I had no choice but to marry Rebecca. It was not even a choice, Eliza. It was expected. For my family’s sake and for her sake, I had to wed her. I could not speak of the reasons why, not even to you, due to the promises I had been forced to make.” He sighed heavily, shaking his head at the memories. “But she is gone from this earth now and I have the freedom to speak to you as I wished I could have done back then.” Almost unwillingly, his fingers ran up the curve of her cheek and then back down her neck, sending fire coursing through his veins. “I can only hope for your forgiveness, when the time comes. I have prayed and sought forgiveness from God and yet there is still no peace within me.” Closing his eyes for a moment, he stopped himself before he began to tell her everything. “There is more to say, more to explain, but I will give you the time you require to consider what I have said about Lord Montrose before I continue.”