London Season Matchmaker Box Set: Regency Romance

by Lucy Adams

  “You’re cheating.” One long, bony finger was pointed in Grayson’s direction, only to then be pointed at Lord Darnley. “You’re in on this together.”

  Grayson rolled his eyes. “Do not be ridiculous,” he muttered, reaching for the cards again. “You know very well it is a game of chance.”

  “No!” the gentleman exclaimed, slamming a fist on the table this time. “No, you made certain to give your friend the jack, didn’t you?” His eyes narrowed as they swung back towards Grayson. “And now you’re going to deal him and yourself a pretty little hand, so that one of you is bound to proclaim victory.” His eyes became slits, his cheeks bright red. “And you’ll share the winnings after that, will you?”

  Insulted by such a declaration, Grayson drew himself up as best he could, struggling to his feet and trying his best not to lean too heavily on his bad leg.

  “I am not a cheater, sir,” he told the gentleman firmly. “I resent the accusation and reject it entirely!”

  “How dare you!”

  Much to Grayson’s horror, a second gentleman now rose to his feet also, glaring at Lord Darnley and then back at Grayson himself.

  “You are a cheater,” the second gentleman hissed, pushing his chair back and slowly coming around the table to where Grayson stood. “And a liar. You’re going to steal from us.”

  “I am not. I—”

  What was meant to be Grayson’s final word on the matter disintegrated as the fellow slammed his fist right into Grayson’s jaw. He tasted blood, his ears ringing furiously.

  And then, Lord Darnley threw himself at the first gentleman, whilst Grayson himself tried to defend himself against the second. Fists flew, groans were expelled and pain ricocheted through Grayson on more than one occasion. Cards were forgotten, money thrown across the room and drinks being flung over the heads of others.

  At least, Grayson considered, staggering back as another gentleman slammed into the one who had been throwing punches at him, this was one way to forget all about Dinah, although perhaps rather a painful one.

  “Cheater!” came another man’s roar, and ready to defend himself once again, Grayson threw himself into the melee.

  Chapter Three

  “Quite a disastrous start, I must say.”

  It was with these words that Lady Whitehaven quit the room, leaving Dinah sitting alone by the fire in the drawing room, her eyes fixed on the flickering flames. Lady Whitehaven was obviously disappointed that Dinah had not thrown herself into the joys of dancing and conversing and the like, but in her heart, Dinah felt no guilt. She did not want to marry, did not want to be forced into matrimony when she was content just as she was. What was the urgency? Even if she was to become a spinster, she would rather become a nun than worry with utter desperation over her lack of success as a lady of the ton.

  “A nun.”

  She spoke those words almost reverently, the idea coming to the forefront of her mind and lodging itself there. It all seemed so very simple.

  It would mean leaving the manor house behind, leaving Lady Whitehaven whom Dinah had come to consider a mother in many ways, but Lady Whitehaven had made it clear that such a thing was to occur regardless, given that she was pushing for Dinah to marry. Besides which, Lord Whitehaven, as odious as he was becoming, would not make her return to the manor house and estate particularly easy, especially when he too had made it apparent that he did not wish for her to be present. Of course, Lady Whitehaven would never agree initially, but in time, when it became clear that Dinah was not about to marry and certainly would not seek gentlemen out in the way Lady Whitehaven expected, she might come to consider the nunnery. After all, it was better than being a spinster, as regarded the ton, for it would not be that she had failed in her desire to find a suitable husband but rather that she had found a higher, better calling. It would take a good deal of time – mayhap two or more Seasons – before Lady Whitehaven would be prepared to even consider the notion, but Dinah decided that she was willing to wait.

  All she would have to do would be to remain steadfast in her desire to remain without husband. It was not wrong of her to do so, she considered, for whilst one must be obedient to one’s parents – or guardians, given that she was without both father and mother – Dinah did not believe that extended into ensuring that her desires aligned with that of Lady Whitehaven’s. Lady Whitehaven could think of nothing better than being married and settled, whilst she herself had no such inclinations. Some gentlemen were certain to be kind and generous, she was sure, but none incited any feeling nor emotion within her – unless she considered her feelings of anger and anxiety whenever Lord Whitehaven drew near!

  “Is this the plan you have for me?” she whispered, closing her eyes and lowering her head, praying as she had so often done before. “Is this what my mother meant when she told me to keep looking for the path You would one day show me?”

  There was no immediate answer, no ringing voice nor sense of peace that settled over her however. Her heart twisted this way and that, considering what it would be like to become a nun, and also what it would be like to leave the family she had come to love so much these last few years. Lady Whitehaven would no longer be able to be a part of her everyday life. She could not expect to see her cousins and their husbands and, perhaps, one day their children, if she went to a nunnery. They would not be able to visit very often, and she would be expected to remain where she was.

  “But then,” she murmured, lowering her head all the more, “they may not wish to see me.” A small flush colored her cheeks, as she thought back to her time with the family. Yes, she loved her cousins, but they were so very different from her. They each had their own personality but none of them, as far as she had thought, had prayed as much as they ought. It had, she realized, put a strain on their relationships, and it was only now, when they were mostly absent and she the last one at home, that she had come to realize that.

  Which meant that, mayhap going to a nunnery would be the best thing for everyone. She would be able to worship, pray, and read as much as she wished. There would be no interruption, no other tangent for her mind to disappear to. Surely that would bring her happiness.

  Rising to her feet, Dinah wandered to the window and looked out at the dark street below. It was late enough for her to have retired to bed just as Lady Whitehaven had done, but her mind was now so tumultuous with thoughts and ideas that she did not feel at all tired. For a moment, she had thought that her idea of becoming a nun would bring her the peace that she had been missing for some time, but now it seemed that it was adding to her struggles. Sighing heavily, she ran one hand over her eyes and turned, preparing to retire to bed in the hope that sleep might bring a rest to her mind.

  The door flew open.

  “Ah, Dinah….there you are.”

  Dinah blinked rapidly, looking at the ragged figure of Lord Whitehaven as he stumbled into the room. Practically falling into a large chair, he hung onto it with apparently all the strength he had, his legs buckling beneath him and his knuckles white as he held on.

  “Lord Whitehaven,” Dinah murmured, aware of how her heart clamored furiously within her chest. “You appear to be in a little…difficulty.” Her eyes drifted to the red, angry marks on his knuckles and the darkness about one of his eyes. His clothes were ripped in places and his cravat was entirely gone. In all, he appeared to be more than a little worse for wear.

  He chuckled loudly, his eyes sliding shut. “I am in no difficulty at all,” he slurred, trying to open his eyes but appearing to fail miserably. “I am quite all right.” This was, however, accompanied by one of his hands sliding free of the chair and Lord Whitehaven falling forward, leaving him half kneeling, half standing in a most awkward fashion. Rubbing one of his eyes, he let out a yelp, clearly having forgotten that he had been injured in some way.

  “You were not set upon, I hope?”

  Again, that harsh, cruel laugh that told her just how much of a fool he thought her. Clearly, he had not been set upo
n. This was, it seemed, all of his own doing.

  “Did I not warn you that I wished to frequent gambling dens?” he slurred, still hanging onto the chair. “This is just the marks of a man who has enjoyed himself immensely.”

  “I—I should ring the bell,” Dinah said hurriedly, a spiral of fear settling in her stomach at the dark look in Lord Whitehaven’s eyes. “Someone must help you.”

  “They will all be abed,” Lord Whitehaven said, waving his free hand before letting go of the chair entirely and ending up on his hands and knees. “Just come and help me, Miss Shepherd. Dinah. Whatever it is I am to call you, come here at once.”

  A little confused as to what she ought to do and certainly not at all eager to go closer to Lord Whitehaven when he was in such a state, Dinah remained exactly where she was, her hands tightening as she pressed them together. Lord Whitehaven was cruel when he was not in his cups, and she could not imagine what he would do in his current state.

  “Attend to me, Dinah,” Lord Whitehaven said, sounding quite weary now. “Do stop being ridiculous.”

  Dinah bristled, wanting to state that if anyone was appearing ridiculous, it was Lord Whitehaven himself, but instead she chose to remain silent, questioning inwardly what was best for her to do. She did not want to go near Lord Whitehaven, but he was correct to state that everyone else had already retired. It was not as though she could go to Lady Whitehaven and beg for her help, for Lady Whitehaven would be mortified to see her son in such a state and certainly would not thank Dinah for wakening her to see him so drunk.

  “Does not your God tell you to care for others when they are in need?” Lord Whitehaven’s voice had become low, his eyes finally fixing fully upon her face. “And am I not now in need?”

  Dinah closed her eyes for a moment, her hands balling into fists. This was not at all what was meant, and Lord Whitehaven knew it well, but he was using such a thing against her so that he might try and manipulate her into doing as he wished.

  “I just need your arm to help me up to my bedchamber,” he said, turning slowly back towards the chair and attempting to haul himself up. “Is that too much to ask?”

  Drawing in a long breath, Dinah moved swiftly towards Lord Whitehaven, telling herself that the sooner she did as he asked, the sooner she could retire to bed. Most likely, Lord Whitehaven would not recall this incident in the morning, and it would probably be best for her to help him up to bed before he passed out completely.

  “Very well,” she said heavily, coming to stand by Lord Whitehaven as he clung to the chair. “We should go at once.”

  “At once,” he agreed, laughing mockingly as he turned to her, his hands reaching and grasping at her clothing. Dinah stiffened but forced herself to remain standing as quietly as she could, until Lord Whitehaven had regained his balance.

  How they made it up the staircase towards Lord Whitehaven’s bedchamber, she did not know. Her legs were heavy, her limbs aching as she held onto Lord Whitehaven as best she could, feeling him lurch from side to side and almost knocking her from her feet as she pushed the bedchamber door open.

  “There,” she said, her breathing ragged. “You are in your rooms, Lord Whitehaven. I will…” She tried to let go of his arm, but he would not be removed. Instead, both hands now clung to her arm, whilst he leaned into her heavily, his breath stale as it brushed across her cheek.

  “Just take me to my bed,” he murmured, his head lolling towards her shoulder as he leaned on her all the more heavily. “I do not think I can make it alone.”

  Dinah’s heart raced furiously as she helped him towards the bed. She had never been so close to a gentleman before, and even though Lord Whitehaven upset her, antagonized her, and frustrated her dreadfully, there was something about his nearness that had her whole body buzzing with a strange sense of awareness.

  “You might join me, you know.”

  The sensation went from her in a moment as she turned her head to glare at him – only for Lord Whitehaven to be directly there, his head lowering and, much to her shock, his mouth seeking hers.

  His lips pressed to hers, his weight pressing her back against the bed until she was struggling to remain standing. And yet, there was something about his kiss that had her yearning for more.

  Collecting herself and horrified to realize what Lord Whitehaven was doing – and what he might be intending, given that they were in his bedchamber, Dinah pushed him back hard, making him stagger backwards before falling to a heap on the floor. Heat seared her cheeks as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her eyes burning with hot, angry tears as she walked towards the door.

  “You cannot pretend that you are so pure of heart and mind that you have never had a single thought of entertaining a gentleman.”

  Dinah stopped dead, closing her eyes as she leaned against the doorframe, hating the conflicting emotions that were whirling through her. She wanted to rail at him, wanted to shout at him for what he had attempted to do, and yet no words came to her lips.

  “If you should ever consider it, Dinah, you need only ask. I should be here waiting for you.”

  There was nothing she could say to such a remark. Without even a single look back, she quit the room and moved away as quickly as she could, allowing the door to slam behind her. Her whole body was shaking as she moved quickly to her own rooms, from both anger and a deep, unsettling sensation that did not leave her. Even as she locked her door, undressed hurriedly, and climbed into bed, it remained within her, growing slowly and yet steadily. A sensation that part of her had almost liked what he had done, that she had enjoyed the sensation of his lips upon her own. It was the most ridiculous notion, and yet it was not something she was easily able to get rid of.

  “I must pray,” she murmured, climbing from her bed to kneel beside it. “Pray for my soul and for my heart.” Closing her eyes and bowing her head, she began to pray in a desperate attempt to remove the strange feelings that were beginning to swarm about her heart.

  Chapter Four

  It was not until a few minutes had passed before Grayson slowly began to realize that the groaning that had woken him was coming from his own lips. Trying to open his eyes, the pain that lanced his skull from the beam of light coming from the chink in the curtains was enough to have him burying his head into the blankets once more.

  “Your mother requests your presence at breakfast, Lord Whitehaven.”

  The butler’s firm tone had Grayson frowning, despite the pain this brought him.

  “She has received a note that has her greatly concerned, and I was told to rouse you at once.”

  At this, Grayson lifted his head, feeling a shock running through him. “A note?” he croaked, suddenly afraid that his creditors had done the unthinkable and written to inform Lady Whitehaven of her son’s debts.

  “Indeed, my lord,” the butler replied in a rather frustrated fashion, evidencing the fact that he had been pulled from his other duties in order to seek out Grayson and waken him. “Now, your valet is present and your breakfast tray has been set out on the table, unless you should like it set before you in bed?”

  Grayson wanted to retort that the only thing he wanted to do was to close his eyes and crawl back down into the bedcovers, but instead he merely took in a long breath and murmured that he would rise and sit to eat. Not that he intended to eat very much, for the smell of the toast and coffee was sending his stomach twisting into knots rather than giving him any sense of hunger. The butler appeared satisfied with this, however, clicked his heels together, and excused himself, leaving Grayson in the capable hands of his valet.

  “Go and lay out my clothes,” Grayson told the man, trying still to lift his head from the pillow but finding it much too painful to be able to do so with any ease. “I shall rise in a few moments.”

  The valet said nothing but withdrew to Grayson’s small dressing room, which had its own adjoining door. Being left alone, Grayson was able to close his eyes tightly again and pull the blankets over his head once mo
re, burrowing into the darkness and feeling his pain lift as he did so.

  But there was nothing for it. He could not remain abed, for if his mother had received some sort of note, then he would have to ensure he was dressed and prepared to speak to her about it with as much dignity as he could muster. Probing at his forehead with long fingers and wondering if there was any easy way for the pain in his head to disappear altogether, Grayson forced himself to sit upright – and then immediately regretted doing so. His head felt as though it were being split in two, for the agony that lanced through his skull was like a red hot poker being pushed into his head.

  “Here, my lord.”

  The valet had returned on silent feet, and Grayson felt something being pushed into his hand. A glass of water, mayhap. Throwing it back, he swallowed it before he had time to gag, coughing furiously as he half threw the glass back at the valet.

  “And now some water,” the valet added, before Grayson could speak. “Here, my lord. I have been told that the concoction that you took before will bring an end to your pain.”

  Grayson said nothing but grasped at the filled water glass with greedy hands, throwing it back as quickly as he could and feeling the last remnants of the first drink being chased away. Coughing heavily for a moment, he wiped his eyes and handed the glass back to his valet. “I do not know what that was, Featherstone,” he muttered, passing one hand over his eyes. “But I must hope that the torture of drinking it will be worthwhile.”

  His valet inclined his head. “Should you eat first or dress first, my lord?” he asked, not commenting on what Grayson had drunk. “If I might, I would also suggest a cold compress for your eye, although it may be a little too late to help.”