London Season Matchmaker Box Set: Regency Romance

by Lucy Adams

  Eliza felt her heart quicken at the look in his eyes, her hands tight in his.

  “You must know how deeply I love you, Lady Eliza,” Avondale said, gently, letting go of her hand to tuck a stray curl back behind her ear. At his touch, Eliza felt herself tremble violently, her eyes closing for a moment.

  “You can see what your touch does to me, Your Grace,” she whispered, opening her eyes to look up at him. “I have such a love for you that it seems to pervade my very soul.”

  His smile was tender. “Even when I thought myself lost to you forever, Eliza, my heart remained yours,” he said, taking a step closer so that his breath brushed across her cheek. “I cannot imagine being a day apart from you.”

  “Nor I from you,” she whispered, her every sense coming alive with hope and anticipation.

  “Even though my estate borders your brother’s, I find myself in agony having to leave your side each day,” Avondale continued, his other hand now letting hers go so that it might settle at her waist. “There is nothing for me at my own home, for it feels empty. I am bereft without you, be it only for a few hours.” Pressing his lips together, the duke looked upwards at the sky for a moment, as if he needed to collect his thoughts. “I would not continue like this, Lady Eliza.”

  His eyes slowly returned to hers and Eliza caught her breath at the intensity of his gaze.

  “You are my very life,” she whispered, feeling tears starting in her eyes, her throat aching suddenly. “Surely you know, Avondale, that I have always longed to be yours?”

  He kissed her then, fiercely, taking her breath from her chest. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he pulled her tight against him, his lips seeking hers with a desperation that she had never felt from him before. She returned his kiss with all the passion that she felt, a single tear escaping from her closed eyes and running down her cheek.

  Avondale’s mouth lifted from hers and he kissed her cheek instead, taking the moisture of her tears away.

  “Do not cry, my lady,” he whispered, his forehead resting gently against her own. “No more tears of sadness, my love. You know what I desire and I can only pray that you desire it also.”

  She swallowed hard and looked into his eyes. “Ask me, Avondale.”

  The duke closed his eyes tightly, drew in a breath and set himself back from her just a little.

  His hand took hers and he pressed it gently. “My dear, sweet Lady Eliza,” he said, in a voice that was hoarse and cracked with emotion. “Will you be my wife? Will you marry me?”

  Eliza’s tears came anew, rushing down her cheeks as she smiled up into his eyes, her heart filled with such joy that she could barely contain it.

  “I will,” she whispered, as he brushed her tears away gently. “Oh, Avondale, you know that I will.”

  He pulled her into his arms again, holding her tightly against him. Eliza buried her head into his shoulder, light seeming to sparkle around them both. This was truly the most wonderful moment of her life. Finally, she was to be the wife of the only man she had ever loved.

  “You have made me the happiest man in all of England, my lady,” Avondale whispered, lifting his head so that he might look into her eyes again. “I swear to you that I will love you every moment of my life. Not a day shall go by where I do not make you aware of just how precious you are to me.”

  She reached up and kissed him, one hand pressed against his heart that she knew beat with love for her. Gone were the memories of sadness, of pain and separation. They had been flung far from them both, finding in each other a new joy that seemed to erase their past suffering.

  “We have found our way together again,” she whispered, her whole being alive with happiness. “And I shall never turn away from you. You are my one true love and that love shall carry us through for the rest of our days.”

  The Noble Spy

  London Season Matchmaker Book Two

  Book Description

  After witnessing a murder, fighting for her life and being rescued by a stranger, Lady Titania Wells has had quite the spectacular start to her Season!

  Titania relishes in the attention she garners during the London Season. Especially when the sought-after Lord Huckleby seeks her out.

  Unfortunately, she cannot forget the mysterious stranger who saved her from her death, even though she can’t quite remember his face.

  At a young age, Edward Carroway decided to turn from his title and fortune in order to serve his country. He has no interest in being called ‘Lord Carroway’ and engaging in the frivolous company of society.

  However, when Miss Wells sweeps into his life, everything changes – especially when he discovers she is in danger from the one man that has always eluded him!

  How will Edward manage this strange new affection that has captured his heart? And will he be able to keep Titania safe from the French spy he loathes?

  Prologue

  “Must you always take this long?”

  Titania laughed lightly and whirled around to face her sister. “Come now, Merry!” she exclaimed, her eyes bright. “It is the first ball of the Season, and I must ensure that I look my very best.” She let her gaze brush over Merry’s gown and coiffure, taking in the usual dull color of gown and the unimaginative chignon. “You may not care for such things, my dear sister, but I do.”

  “As well I know,” Merry muttered, running one hand over the front of her gown a trifle self-consciously. “I am quite certain that you will look wonderful in whatever gown you choose, Titania. Although you must hurry, for else we shall all be late and you know that Mama will not be pleased.”

  At the mention of their mother, Lady Whitehaven, Titania allowed her smile to fade somewhat, her exuberance dampening down. Their mother, widow to the late Marquess of Whitehaven, would not be pleased if Titania was the reason for their late arrival at the first ball of the Season. A small stab of guilt washed over her as she saw Merry’s arched eyebrow and realized that she must be the only one of the sisters not yet prepared.

  Not that she was about to let Merry know that she felt such a way.

  “You are very kind to compliment me so,” she said, with a grin that stretched wide across her face. “But I must think of what the gentlemen of the beau monde will think when they see me. Would they prefer me in a light green? Or perhaps something softer and more delicate?”

  Merry made an impatient noise in the back of her throat.

  “The green, I think,” Titania said hastily, turning away from her sister. “For it shall match my eyes.”

  “That is wise, since you will find nothing to match your hair,” Merry said stiffly, as the door opened behind them and a maid walked into the room, followed by Catherine, another of one of their sisters.

  “Do hurry up, Titania,” Catherine said at once, rolling her eyes as she came to stand by Merry. “As you can see, both myself and Merry are already prepared.”

  Titania huffed and sat down in the chair in front of the dressing table, looking at her reflection and wondering if she should add any other small adornments. Catherine, she knew, did not care for her appearance in any way whatsoever, and whilst she looked presentable this evening, she had not gone to any great lengths to improve her appearance. “I must have something else,” she murmured aloud, as the maid began to prepare the gown for Titania to wear. “Something that will truly capture their attention.”

  Merry shook her head and let out a long, pained sigh. “You will capture the gentlemen’s attention simply by being present, Titania,” she said firmly. “For I am certain that you will be the only redhaired young lady in London.”

  “If not, only one of the few,” Catherine added, as though this would encourage Merry to step away from the mirror. “Come now, Titania. Just step into your gown so that we may depart.”

  “Wait!” Titania twisted back in her chair, her eyes alight. “There are those beautiful mother of pearl butterflies in the garden, are there not?”

  Her two sisters stared back at her in astonishme
nt, their mouths falling open as they took in what she had said.

  “I must fetch them,” Titania said hurriedly, getting to her feet and making her way to the door. “I will not be a moment.”

  “You cannot, Titania!” Catherine exclaimed, grasping her arm. “Those butterflies are adornments for the garden only. They are not to be worn as adornments!”

  Titania, who had a strong will and was, therefore, quite determined that she should do whatever she pleased, tugged her arm from her sister’s staying hand. “But they will be quite perfect,” she insisted. “And, from what I recall, they somehow tie to the stem of the plant, which means they must be able to fix themselves to my hair in some fashion.”

  “There is not time for this nonsense, Titania,” Merry groaned, throwing up her hands in exasperation. “You are not even in your gown as yet and–”

  “I do not want to dirty it,” Titania interrupted, grasping a thin dressing gown and throwing it over herself, tying it at the waist. “Now, do stop fussing. I know very well that Dinah and Mama are not yet prepared—else Dinah would be here also.” She caught the way her sisters exchanged a glance and felt a sense of triumph from deep within her. Most likely, Dinah, her cousin, was having to be persuaded to attend the ball by their mother, given that she had no interest in the Season whatsoever and often found a good many things utterly unfavorable. “Just wait for a few minutes longer, and then I shall be quite prepared.” She did not wait to hear her sisters’ protests, quite sure they would be flung around her ears should she hesitate for even a moment and so, instead, she slipped from the room.

  Walking along the hallway towards the staircase, Titania grew a trifle frustrated that she had not thought to bring a candle. The house was fairly gloomy, given that the family was to be out, and as such, she was finding it difficult to walk quickly and with precision. Seeing the drawing room, she stepped inside with the hope of finding a candle within.

  The room was well lit, for the family would be meeting there before leaving for the ball, and, with relief, Titania saw a single candlestick on the mantlepiece. Reaching for it, she sighed heavily to herself as she wandered to the window, wondering what was making her heart so heavy. It could not be that it was the beginning of the Season surely, for that knowledge brought great joy with it. Was it because she, out of all of her sisters, found the idea of returning to the Season to be one of excitement and joy? Merry, Catherine, and Dinah, her cousin, did not seem to care particularly much for all that was to occur and certainly did not give it as much of an interest as she.

  “They shall have to show an interest soon enough,” Titania muttered to herself. “It is 1815 after all, and they will not have a good many years left until they are thought of as spinsters by the ton.” Unfortunately, Titania realized, this would not be a particularly painful thought to someone such as Merry or even Catherine. They both stated that they did not care for the Season nor for the gentlemen that were within in. This was not something Titania could understand, for why would one not wish to converse, dance, and even be courted by an eligible gentleman?

  Her eyes caught something outside in the gloom, her breath catching in her throat as she saw a figure running along the street, only to lash out furiously at another. The cry from the second man seemed to make its way through the window and directly towards her, crying out for help as the first man continued his attack.

  Before she knew what she was doing, Titania was outside. Her heart was in her throat as she hurried towards the first man, meaning to shout aloud at him so as to frighten him into ceasing his terrible attack – only for her gaze to catch sight of a blade as it flashed in the moonlight.

  Her breath caught and a faint trembling seized her. Whatever was she doing? This was utterly, utterly foolish! She ought not to be out of doors on her own, especially not when a man was now standing across from her, his knife held in front of him as he looked down at the fallen man at his feet.

  “You.”

  Titania jerked violently, going cold all over as she realized just what had occurred. The man with the knife had obviously spotted her, and now, to her horror, was beginning to advance towards her. A scream lodged in her throat as she stumbled back, aware that she had no weapon, no way to protect herself.

  The only thing she could do was to return to the house before he could catch her. She had only taken a few steps once she had reached the bottom of the stone steps but, for whatever reason, the house now seemed to be much further away. Titania turned and attempted to run to the steps, her feet feeling heavy and weighted as she tried to run. The sound of running footsteps behind her made her scream aloud, the sound echoing through the gloom as her heart beat wildly with fear.

  “You there!”

  Something grabbed at her, and Titania screamed again, twisting this way and that so that she might escape from her captor. The man’s hand was tight on her waist, the sound of tearing fabric her only hope that she might be able to escape from him.

  “You shouldn’t have been watching,” the man said in a low, dark voice, as he let go of her dressing gown but instead reached to grasp her arm, swinging her about to face him. Titania’s eyes flared wide with fear, taking in the man’s small, narrowed eyes, his cheeks thick with stubble and the dark grin that was now spreading across his face. “Not that I think I can rid the world of someone as pretty as you.” He pulled her closer, the knife flashing dangerously in hand. Titania stilled, her eyes on the blade, her hands pressed hard against the man’s chest as though she could push him from her by sheer force of will.

  “I might just have to take you with me,” the man grated, his face close to hers as he loomed over her. “A pretty thing like you could bring a man all sorts of good.”

  Titania closed her eyes tight, fighting the wave of fear that crashed over her. “No,” she whispered, trying to find some sort of strength within herself. “No, I will not go with you.” Beginning to struggle, she let her hands scrabble at his chest. “Let me go!” Her voice began to grow stronger as she fought to get away from him, her eyes fixed on the knife that was held tightly in the man’s other hand. “Let me go, I say!”

  As she grasped about his neck, something snapped from it and into her hands, and Titania grasped a hold of it tightly. With a snarl, the man threw her back, only to raise the knife high as he stood over her. “You had better watch your mouth,” he stated, as Titania took a few steps back, only to find herself pressed against the railings that separated one house from the other. “No more of this fighting. You come along with me, or it will be all the worse for you.”

  Titania’s heart was pounding so painfully that she could not find her voice. Her breath was coming in short, shallow gasps as she tried to think of what she might do in order to escape from this murderer – only for a shadow to spring at the man and knock him to the ground.

  A fight ensued before Titania’s eyes, her hands now clinging tightly to the iron railings as she attempted to keep herself upright. Her legs were weak, her mind scrambling to make sense of what she had seen and what had occurred. This man, this shadowy stranger, had leapt at the murderer without consideration, she thought, and now was fighting for his life. The murderer’s knife was being jabbed in each and every direction as he struggled to his feet, whilst the shadowy stranger continued to lash out at the murderer any way he could.

  “This is not wise,” the stranger said, as the murderer thrust the blade out wildly again. “You know that you will be caught.”

  “I shall not.”

  The murderer thrust his blade towards the stranger once more, missing completely, before turning around on his heel and running away into the dark. Titania’s body shook with relief, and she began to sink to the ground, her legs no longer able to hold her up. The pavement was cold and hard beneath her, but she did not notice it, her whole body shaking furiously.

  “Do not say a word to anyone about what you have seen.”

  Her vision was blurred as she looked up to see this mysterious gentleman,
her savior, bending over her. She could not quite make him out but wanted to cling to him as though he were the only one she needed at this very moment.

  “You must give me your word,” he stated firmly, looking deeply into her eyes. “You must promise you shall not say anything.”

  “No,” Titania promised, trying to reach out to him but finding that she could not. “I shall not.” Her eyes grew heavy, her mind beginning to slow as she leaned back against the iron railings. She did not have the strength to say more, it seemed, for she was being pulled towards a rich, welcoming darkness that wanted to pull her into its embrace.

  Something lifted her, something took her away from the cold hardness of the pavement, and Titania leaned her head into the softness. She did not know what it was nor could she make herself awaken from the beginnings of unconsciousness to discover it. All she could do was lean into it and allow the welcoming darkness to take her.

  Chapter One

  “What is it you have discovered, then?”

  Edward—Viscount Carroway—cleared his throat and looked directly at the gentleman in front of him.

  “I have, I confess, been unable to prevent the death of Stirling,” he said, allowing a trace of bitterness to enter his voice. “It was most unfortunate.”

  The man in front of him shook his head and sighed. “It is unfortunate indeed,” he muttered sadly, shaking his head. “Stirling was a great asset to this force, and I shall be sorry to lose him from our ranks.” He looked back at Edward; his grey eyes now severe. “Might I ask how it occurred?”