The Mysteries of A Lady's Heart: A Clean & Sweet Regency Historical Romance Collection

by Abby Ayles

  Lucy Mormont wore her wealth and title with the effortless confidence of a woman who’d grown up knowing no hardship or uncertainty.

  With a sharp pang, the thought reminded Cecilia of her own financial troubles, but she kept her face in a relaxed smile and let Lucy control the conversation.

  “It’s really shocking we haven’t met before,” Lucy said, sipping something out of a crystal-stemmed glass.

  “But I lead such a busy life these days. Always to the coast and back, and the Count has such complicated endeavors in the center of the country.”

  Cecilia nodded, though in truth she was unacquainted with the busy life of the Mormonts outside of local gossip.

  She and her mother had lived a quiet life in the country when her father was alive, and even now they kept to their townhouse more days than not.

  “It is good that we have met now,” she ventured. “And how are you finding London this Season?”

  “Dismal, but that’s soon to change now that the night is sparkling and alive again,” Lucy said, taking another sip. “My dear, you seem to be catching eyes all across the room. Please let me introduce you to some of my nearest and dearest.”

  Cecilia pushed aside the sinking desire to flee and allowed Lucy to take her arm and lead her across the bustling room to first one group, and then another.

  Lucy’s nearest and dearest seemed to be a vast and quickly growing crowd.

  At one circle, a young baroness seemed particularly taken with Cecilia.

  “You’re a dear,” she gushed. “You should consider joining me and the Baron in Bath this year. We don’t go up as often as we should, but he’s airing out the house for the summer months. You know how the waters there help with illness.”

  “It’s been two years since I’ve been to Bath,” Cecilia answered. She’d gone with her father in his waning years of health, hoping the fresh air would do him good.

  “Do you know the Bartletts? Miss Fanny Bartlett is a positive genius on the pianoforte, and she was at many of our gatherings.”

  “I haven’t had the pleasure.”

  “Tell me you frequented the Royal Crescent and the Upper Assembly Rooms. Papa always loved their architecture but I feel there’s something so stately about it all.”

  Cecilia knew of both places, but she felt keenly the other woman’s posturing.

  The reference to architecture and the assumption that all people descending on Bath would have the wealth and connections to spend their time in the Upper Assembly Rooms vexed her deeply.

  She thought of the gold gilding, the marble staircases, and the whispering silk in quiet passageways. All that was soon to be behind her, if what the solicitor said was true.

  Likely enough, this baroness would soon be whispering behind her fan about meeting the Miss Prescott once at the Sinclair’s ball. “Of course, that was before their fall in fortune,” she would say.

  “I did like Pulteney Bridge,” Cecilia answered at last, wistfully remembering the white stone and the pristine river moving lazily beneath.

  “You must be much acquainted with local walks,” the baroness said, fanning herself. “I’m one for dances myself.”

  “Come now, Miss Prescott.” Lucy interjected, pulling her new friend gently away. “You can’t give your attentions to the ladies all evening. Let’s see if I can find my brother for you.”

  She led Cecilia to the corner of the room where two gentlemen stood watching the festivities.

  Cecilia noticed at once the tallest of the two, a dark-haired gentleman in formal dress with trimmed sideburns and flashing dark eyes.

  “This is the Marquess of Malbrook, Gerard Mormont,” Lucy said. “My brother.”

  The tall man bowed gallantly over Cecilia’s hand.

  “Enchanted,” he said simply, kissing her fingers. She felt a thrill of excitement, and wondered at it. The Marquess seemed not just handsome, but self-possessed.

  “And this is our dear friend, The Honorable Robert Fanning.”

  “Lord Lothmire now, sister,” Gerard said with an affected laugh. “You forget yourself.”

  “Yes, of course, Lord Lothmire.” Lucy waved her gloved hand about her face as though dismissing a small annoyance. “He recently inherited the title of Earl of Lothmire.”

  “How pleasing for you,” Cecilia murmured, finding the second gentleman’s touch to be colder, and more distant than his handsome friend.

  The new Earl of Lothmire was handsome enough, although he was a bit shorter than the Marquess, and had pale, red-blonde hair and green eyes that seemed to look through her to some distant, more interesting thing.

  “You must forgive my friend,” Gerard said, raising his eyebrows in a look of shared confidentiality. “He’s a bit preoccupied at the moment.”

  “With what, pray tell?” Cecilia asked.

  “Naught of interest,” Lord Lothmire responded curtly.

  “Oh, Robert, let Miss Prescott be the judge of that.” Lucy laughed and flashed her charming blue eyes at the solemn man. “Come, tell us what was on your mind.”

  “I’m sure my thoughts would only bore you.”

  “Or perhaps you think us too fragile to comprehend them,” Cecilia interjected with what she hoped was a light-hearted smile.

  “I would not do you the dishonor.”

  After a moment’s pause, Cecilia attempted another course of conversation.

  “What think you of the weather? It is unseasonably warm. I wouldn’t be surprised if we were forced to venture to country cottages a bit earlier than usual this year.”

  “Yes,” Lord Lothmire said wryly. “Let’s talk about the weather.”

  Something in his tone caused Cecilia pause. It had been some time since she’d come face to face with such aloof behavior.

  It was clear that the Earl of Lothmire had no desire to attempt carefree conversation, and it seemed he was reproving her, somehow, for her attempts at just that.

  Thankfully, she was saved from further awkwardness by the warmth and charm of the Earl’s more agreeable friend.

  “Miss Prescott, would you give me the honor of claiming the next dance?”

  “I believe it’s a quadrille,” Lucy said with a smile.

  “I’d be delighted,” Cecilia answered, relieved to escape the cold stare of the Earl.

  The two proceeded to the dance floor, where they lined up neatly beside one another across from another couple. Two others stood elegantly on the side, waiting their turn to join in the revel.

  The music began, joyous and light-hearted, and Cecilia moved through the familiar footwork with ease.

  “You’re an excellent dancer,” Gerard said, leaning down as they met in the center for a dip and a turn.

  “You’re too kind.” She smiled, and the two parted for the second couple to pass through. In a moment they were together again, parading around the center of the dance floor.

  “Tell me, Miss Prescott, what things occupy your passing hours?”

  “Are you asking if I am accomplished, sir?” Cecilia shot her partner a teasing smile, and he returned it in kind.

  “I’ve no doubt of that, but I learnt years ago that conversation was expected at events such as these, and I am interested in… your interests.”

  “A valuable lesson,” she dipped beneath the upheld arms of another couple and then came to rest at Lord Malbrook’s elbow again, promenading forward in smooth movements. “I’ve heard there are some very nice walks in the outlying county near here.”

  “I can’t vouch for them with any certainty. I’m a riding man myself.”

  “Ah. A lovely occupation on days such as these.”

  His eyes were suddenly quite close as they turned in a tight circle, and she looked modestly away from their intensity.

  “Perhaps you would join me some time.”

  She should have responded at once, but a certain stillness in her heart held her back. She smiled instead, in what she hoped was tacit agreement, and was thankful for the chance to
whirl away into the changing pattern of a temporary partner.

  When she came back, Cecilia was composed again. She cast a winning smile in Lord Malbrook’s direction.

  “A ride would be lovely. You could show me your favorite haunts.”

  “And you? Are you a woman of nature or of the written word?”

  “I wasn’t aware they were exclusive loves.”

  The two came together, hands joined, and then fell apart into a line of four.

  “Certainly they can walk hand in hand,” her partner murmured.

  “I love books,” Cecilia admitted. “I find the more I read, the more I want to be out in the beauty of nature.”

  Lord Malbrook seemed contemplative, and nodded agreement. Cecilia risked a glance at his profile and was pleased with what she saw.

  He seemed genuinely interested in her, and he’d yet to make a comment about her pretty face or her father’s title.

  They ended the dance with an elegant bow and he led her from the dance floor back to Lucy’s side.

  “You make a lovely pair,” Lucy said with a smile. “You should secure her for another dance before the evening gets away from you.”

  “What say you?” Lord Malbrook asked Cecilia.

  “I have already promised myself to Mr. Fredricks for the next turn.”

  “Then I will wait in expectation for you to return,” the dapper man gave an elaborate bow and pressed Cecilia’s hand once more in his own.

  She glanced past him and caught the Earl’s eye.

  He’d moved away, and was conversing with an older gentleman in the corner. He cast a severe glance in the direction of the two dancers, and then turned back to his own business.

  ***

  The night was waning into early morning when Cecilia was at last able to find her mother in a throng of ladies on the edges of the party.

  The Dowager Viscountess was aglow with the glamour of the highest rings of society, and enjoying the attention due her title. She smiled warmly when Cecilia approached, and bid her take a seat at the table.

  “You will not believe our good fortune,” she whispered, a bit too loudly for Cecilia’s taste. “I’ve just had words with the Marquess of Malbrook.”

  “Really?”

  “He’s enchanted by you, I can tell it, even if he is too much of a gentleman to say as much. He’s invited us to Clairmont for a few weeks.”

  “Mama!”

  “I know. Isn’t it marvelous?”

  Cecilia felt a little light-headed. It was a good sign, indeed, but the room and the lights and the heat of the evening had thrown her off balance. It all seemed to be happening so fast.

  “You’ve made quick work of the situation,” Lady Holden said confidentially. “I had high hopes, I admit, but I never could have imagined such a swift conclusion to our situation. The Marquess of Malbrook!”

  “He wanted me to visit?”

  “Yes, and his family will be delighted to see you, I’m sure. They’re sending a carriage round tomorrow morning and the Marquess insists he accompanies you for the ride. He’s positively enchanted, Cecilia. What did you say to him?”

  “We talked of the area walks and some poems.” She paused, reconsidering. “We also spoke of riding. Nothing of consequence.”

  “That’s just right, my dear. Conversation of consequence, as you put it, leads to disappointment on both ends, and, in the unluckiest of situations, disagreements.”

  “Surely one cannot imagine moving through life with no disagreements whatsoever.”

  “It’s perfectly plausible. Your father and I were very happily married, and I never indulged in an argument of any sort.”

  “That cannot be.”

  “It’s a simple trick, really.” Lady Holden smiled, as though thinking of a fond memory. “You cannot do battle if you’re not in the same room.”

  The glow around the Dowager Viscountess continued as the two bundled into their carriage for the evening.

  Lord Malbrook followed Cecilia outside and bent low over her hand again, looking up once to catch her gaze with a charming flash of his dark eyes before handing her deftly into the carriage.

  “How romantic,” her mother sighed. “If you are very careful, Cecilia, you will be a marchioness one day.”

  Cecilia didn’t bother to correct her.

  As their carriage pulled out of the Sinclairs’ lane, she remembered the rider she’d seen earlier, and felt her freedom slipping ever further from her grasp.

  Chapter 4

  The steady motion of the carriage lulled Robert into thoughtfulness as it drew ever nearer Clairmont.

  He’d agreed to accompany Gerard and Lucy to pick up Miss Prescott and the Dowager Viscountess, and now he was regretting it almost as much as he regretted giving into the Duke’s whim and attending the Sinclairs’ ball.

  He tried to focus on the page of Goethe he was reading, but the words assaulted him.

  “If the whole world I once could see

  On free soil stand, with the people free,

  Then to the moment might I say,

  Linger awhile… so fair thou art.”

  The whole world free. He pondered the words, and wondered why they, like everything since the night of the ball, reminded him of the slim girl sitting across from him now.

  She was wearing a simple brown muslin dress, and her hair was simply arrayed, and yet he found it nearly impossible to keep from stealing glances in her direction.

  After the ball, Gerard had approached Robert with a singular swagger and asked him what he thought of the little Prescott miss.

  “She’s a fine lady,” Robert had responded. “We don’t know her well, but I can hardly imagine any man could do better than Miss Prescott.”

  “I’m not any man,” Gerard sent a critical gaze after the Prescotts’ retreating carriage. “But she is a pretty thing.”

  It seemed the grandest understatement ever to be spoken. The thought of it now persecuted Robert, who had known since the moment he met Miss Cecilia Prescott that she was the silvery woman he’d seen descending the carriage earlier in the evening.

  “She’s more than a pretty thing,” he’d responded, rather more curtly than intended. “She has some wit too.”

  “Not an admirable quality in a woman,” Gerard had answered, going for what Robert feared was his fourth glass of wine.

  “It is one thing to be properly coy; it is another entirely for a woman of lovely face and form to give in to the temptation of verbal swordplay.”

  “Your father would approve of her title.”

  “He’d approve of almost anything but my current conquests, and you know it.”

  That had ended the conversation, and Robert feared now that his efforts to aid the Duke may have done Miss Prescott a disservice.

  “Naught of interest,” had been his answer when she asked what occupied his thoughts.

  He winced at the memory. Her words had been sweet, and her intentions innocent enough, but he’d been so preoccupied with the sight of Gerard’s interest and charm that he’d brushed her off.

  He wasn’t sure he’d done the lady a favor by commending her to Gerard, as true as his sentiment was.

  “I have a thoroughbred, most desirable for both speed and endurance.”

  Gerard’s smooth voice broke into Robert’s thoughts. The tall man was leaning toward Cecilia. He’d been talking at length with the lady about horses, and, to her credit, she’d been listening attentively.

  “Are any of your horses trained for the races?” she asked.

  “Now, that question shows how little you know of the sport,” the Marquess said with a laugh. “I’m far more interested in the paces of a good canter than an all-out gallop, although the latter is more exciting.”

  “Come now, Lord Malbrook,” Lucy interjected. “Thoroughbreds were made for galloping. Perhaps Miss Prescott had a point in asking.”

  “You, who use your geldings for mere locomotion, are not one to speak. A horse is a fine-tune
d instrument; a piece of brilliant artwork. You lash it into a harness and ride behind it in a great wheeled box.”

  Lucy laughed.

  “Brother, you shouldn’t bore our companion with constant talk about such things. Surely the lady would like to discuss something else?”

  “I’m quite content,” Cecilia said.