Hopes and Brides: Regency and Mail Order Bride Historical Romance Collection

by Joyce Alec

  Lord Morton shook his head, his eyes filled with suspicion. “We shall see, Hartley,” he replied, with a small shake of his head. “We shall see.”

  1

  Lady Ellen Newton stood by her mother and greeted their hosts with as much warmth as she could manage. She was truly delighted to have been invited to such a wonderful ball as this—for she had heard that Lord Marchington’s ball was one of the best of the Season.

  “I must thank you for your invitation,” she said with a smile, as she curtsied. “I am so delighted to be here this evening.”

  Lady Marchington smiled back at her. “It is very good to have you here, especially since this is your first Season.”

  “Oh, but she has been dreaming of this for so long,” Ellen’s mother, the Countess of Fancot, replied. “Her father was rather ill, as I am sure you know, but is quite recovered now.”

  “And glad we are to hear it,” Lord Marchington replied, with a slight incline of his head. “Now do enjoy yourself, Lady Ellen. There will be gentlemen eager to make your acquaintance, I am quite sure.”

  Ellen sighed happily, as she walked toward the staircase that led to the ballroom, overcome with delight. She had been forced to remain at home for two years until her father’s condition improved – although, at the time, she had been filled with thoughts only of him and not of what she was missing. Her father had been weak and tired for these two years, often spending days in his study entirely alone, without wishing to see anyone at all – not even his wife. There had been very little the doctor could do, proclaiming it to be a deep melancholy with no external symptoms, and so Ellen and her mother had wept and prayed and hoped that one day, the melancholy would leave him.

  And, for whatever reason, as the flowers came into bloom and the sun began to shine, her father had emerged from his study like a hibernating animal slowly creeping from its den. It had taken some time – weeks even, but he was soon back to full health. At times, however, Ellen still caught the look of sadness in her father’s expression, and being entirely unable to comprehend it, she had found herself entirely at a loss as to how to help him. At least, however, she was able to come to London with her mother, even if he did not attend balls and the like.

  “Now, my dear,” her mother said quietly, as they descended the staircase together. “I know I have warned you of this before, but no more than two dances with any one gentleman, and certainly do not allow any of them to hold you too close, particularly with the waltz.”

  “You are giving me permission to waltz?” Ellen asked in surprise. “I had thought you—”

  “It is two years since you should have been out, so yes, I am quite happy for you to waltz,” her mother interrupted. “But do ensure propriety at all times.”

  Abuzz with happiness, Ellen smiled over at her mother, taking in her softened expression. Clearly, her mother was delighted that she was able to give Ellen a Season, and Ellen loved her for it. “Thank you, Mama.”

  Her mother pressed her hand for a moment. “Not at all. I well remember my own Season, and I am thrilled that you are able to have one of your own. It will be wonderful, I am quite sure of it – so long as you make sure to stay away from all the rakes.”

  Ellen frowned slightly, her mouth pulling just a little. “But how am I to know who they are?”

  The Countess of Fancot laughed softly, pointing to Ellen’s left. “I believe that Lady Charlotte will be able to help you there.”

  Ellen turned at once, her face brightening as she saw her dear friend, Lady Charlotte, coming toward her with her own mother in tow. Lady Charlotte was the daughter of the Marquess of Thurston, and given that their mothers had been very close friends, it seemed inevitable that the girls would become bosom friends. Lady Charlotte had already had one Season and had brightened Ellen’s loneliness by coming for an extended visit with her mother when Ellen’s father had been at his worst.

  “My dear Charlotte!” Ellen exclaimed, embracing her friend. “How good to see you!”

  “Did you not know we would be here?” Charlotte asked, her eyes bright as she stepped back from their embrace.

  “I knew you were in London, but I did not know that you would be at this particular ball,” Ellen replied, her evening growing all the happier. “I have only just come to London, you see, and it has been something of a whirlwind!”

  Charlotte laughed, her brown eyes glowing. “Of course, I quite understand. May I say just how beautiful you look, Ellen? You are certainly going to make an impression on the gentlemen here!”

  Ellen, who had always been rather self-conscious about her red hair, put one hand up to her coiffure, delicately patting it. “Do you think so?”

  “Of course!” Charlotte exclaimed, smiling. “You have the looks of a siren, with your red hair and green eyes.”

  “A siren!” Ellen cried, rather horrified. “I would not have them think that I—”

  Charlotte laughed, shaking her head. “You need not look so horrified, my dear friend. Come now, let me show you around the ballroom and introduce you to a few people. You will have your dance card filled up almost a once, I am quite sure of it.”

  Ellen glanced over at her mother, who was still in deep conversation with Charlotte’s mother. “Might I go with Charlotte, Mama?” she asked, interrupting their conversation. “It will just be to take a turn around the room.”

  “But of course!” her mother exclaimed, sending a warm look toward Charlotte. “Thank you, dear Charlotte, for being so thoughtful. I am sure Ellen appreciates it.”

  Charlotte inclined her head before looping her arm through Ellen’s and hurrying off through the room, oft times squeezing through a seeming army of guests who were not inclined to get out of anyone’s way.

  “Now, here we are,” Charlotte said happily, as they came to the end of the room that led out to the gardens. “There are quite a few of my acquaintances that I want to introduce you to.”

  Ellen found herself greeting one gentleman after another, followed by a few ladies. Charlotte chattered happily, whilst Ellen found her dance card handed from one gentleman to another, nodding and smiling as each one requested the pleasure of her company. She could not quite remember everyone’s name, but given that she was practically surrounded by new acquaintances, she thought that it was not too much of a failing. Besides, Charlotte would be able to remind her of their names and titles later on.

  “And, of course, we must tell Lady Ellen whom she is to avoid,” Charlotte continued with a laugh. “There are a great many rogues out there, my dear friend, although none of the gentlemen standing here could be called such a thing.”

  “Indeed not!” one of them exclaimed, sounding a little offended. “I should not be particularly pleased if anyone was to think me a dishonorable gentleman.”

  “As would I,” said another, with a small frown. “You will find, Lady Ellen, that the majority of gentlemen are, indeed, trustworthy, but there are a few scoundrels amongst our lot.”

  “Then who are they?” Ellen asked, a little breathlessly. “I would like to know so that I can avoid them. I fear that I am rather in the dark at this present moment.”

  Charlotte grinned and leaned forward, talking almost conspiratorially. “Well, there is Lord Masters, who is known to try and take as many women as he can to his bed, and also Lord Ravenscroft, who is a man with such a dark countenance that it is a wonder he gets as much attention as he does!”

  “Goodness,” Ellen breathed, her cheeks coloring at hearing her friend speak so plainly about these gentlemen.

  “And do not forget Lord Bonar,” one of the gentlemen said with a disdainful sniff. “Quite the rascal, that one.”

  “As is Lord Middlemarch.”

  Ellen nodded slowly, mentally trying to remember as many names as she could.

  “But the worst is none other than Lord Hartley,” Charlotte finished with a broad smile. “He is here tonight, no doubt, and is quite the handsomest of gentlemen.”

  “But a rogue non
etheless,” Ellen said, seeing her friend nod. “I do thank you all, I very much appreciate your candor in this matter.”

  One of the gentlemen chuckled and held out his arm toward Ellen. “We are telling you these things plainly, Lady Ellen, so that we honorable folk might have more of your company.”

  Ellen felt herself blush and smiled up at him, aware that the next dance was about to begin. “I will not think ill of you for that, Lord Smyth,” she murmured, putting her hand on his arm.

  “In fact, I would say it is only right,” Charlotte added, as she followed Ellen and Lord Smyth onto the dance floor with her own partner. “After all, good deeds should always be rewarded.”

  Ellen did not quite know what to say, wondering if such a comment said that she thought rather highly of herself, but much to her relief, the gentlemen only laughed.

  “I will always be glad of your company, Lady Ellen,” Lord Smyth murmured, as the dance began. “I do hope I will be able to dance with you again on another occasion.”

  “I am quite sure you will,” Ellen replied quietly, doing her best to ensure that she did not put a foot wrong when it came to her dancing. She did not want to make a mistake.

  Thankfully, the dance went beautifully, and as Lord Smyth took her back to the rest of their company, another gentleman came to claim her almost at once—and back she went for another dance, her smile radiating happiness.

  The rest of the evening went just as wonderfully, for Ellen did nothing other than dance and smile and converse, delighted that she had made so many new acquaintances. Charlotte appeared more than happy with her friend’s introduction to society, assuring her—with a quiet whisper—that she would soon have gentlemen calling on her, if not requesting to court her for her hand. Ellen could not bring herself to agree, although she did feel her heart fill with happiness as Charlotte spoke. She just hoped that this Season would prove to be as happy a one as she hoped.

  2

  “There she is.”

  George narrowed his eyes, as he saw Lady Ellen walk into the ballroom, her mother next to her. He had seen her at a few occasions over the last sennight, but as yet, he had not quite managed to find a way to be introduced to her.

  This was proving to be a little more difficult than he had first anticipated.

  Every time he went near her in the hope of an introduction, she was spirited away by another gentleman for a dance. If he caught her eye, she would turn away from him at once and begin a conversation with one of the ladies she was acquainted with. It was as though she was deliberately trying to avoid an introduction to him. Frowning, he leaned heavily on the balcony rail and continued to watch the lady, wondering what had been said about him. Had someone told her that he was a man to be avoided? He could think of no other reason for her to turn away from him as she did.

  Not that it should matter. He would find a way to greet her eventually, and then he would find a way to secure her affections so that he might steal a kiss from her. He would prove himself to Morton and have his rather substantial tab paid for by Lord Morton. He had until the end of the Season, and there were two months left at least – although he could not be sure that the lady in question would not find herself a handsome beau within a few weeks’ time. Should she do that, then his chances of succeeding grew rather slim.

  His frown deepened as he watched her, aware that his heart had quickened its pace just a little. She was very beautiful, that could not be denied, but he had, in the past, had a great many dealings with beautiful young ladies, so there was no need for him to be affected by Lady Ellen.

  And yet, his eyes lingered on her. She was wearing a gown of emerald green – a bold color choice for a debutante – and it made her quite breathtaking. Her hair reminded him of a roaring fire on a cold winter’s day, burning with such wonderful reds and oranges that even his skin seemed to warm as he watched her. Silver jewels sparkled in her coiffure, seeming to light her eyes with a deep, glowing light. She was, quite frankly, magnificent.

  “Get a hold of yourself, man,” George muttered to himself, shaking his head and dragging his gaze away from the lady. “You are to kiss her and that is all.”

  He did not care what others thought of him, nor of the poor standing in which society held him. He was a rogue, and of that, he was quite proud. He did not need to stand on ceremony for anyone, for society knew exactly who he was. Widows in need of some company smiled at him in their usual, conniving way, whilst debutantes looked at him with interested suspicion. George quite liked that, to be honest. It made him feel almost proud of his reputation, despite the ongoing awareness of just how disappointed his father would be, were he still living.

  Slamming his hand down on the rail, George threw his shoulders back and quickly made his way down the staircase into the ballroom. Now was not the time to stand there thinking when the lady in question was already having her dance card filled. He needed to make things happen instead of simply waiting for the right time to appear. There were ways and means for him to find an introduction to the lady without having another person present. He would just have to be quite careful about how he did it.

  Making his way into the ballroom, he slowly began to move toward her, seeing her talking quietly with another young lady. A gentleman came up to her and, after a quick bow and a few smiles, signed both her dance card and that of her friend. George frowned, recognizing the lady who stood next to Lady Ellen. He had been introduced to her once before and had been firmly rejected when he had asked to dance with her – Lady Charlotte, if he remembered correctly. Was this why he had not been permitted an introduction to Lady Ellen? Had Lady Charlotte warned her away from him?

  Gritting his teeth, George chose to remain exactly where he was, as the gentleman turned on his heel to leave, quite sure he would be able to find an opportunity to speak to Lady Ellen should he just be patient. His eyes took her in, seeing her gentle smile, the curve of her cheek, and the softness in her expression. She was quite the beauty, and George felt his anticipation already begin to grow. He would enjoy pressing his lips to hers, wondering how she would feel under his ministrations. His pulse began to race, as he allowed his gaze to linger on her, aware of a slow-growing warmth beginning to grow deep within him. Giving himself a slight shake, he pushed away such a feeling at once, knowing that he could not allow his emotions to become any part of what he felt.

  Seeing another gentleman claim Lady Charlotte’s attention, George took his opportunity. Darting forward, he made his way quickly through the guests that stood between him and his quarry, and elbowing another man out of the way, he bowed deeply in front of Lady Ellen.

  “Lady Ellen,” he said softly, as he rose, making sure to stand far enough away from Lady Charlotte so that Lady Ellen was forced to turn herself a little away from her friend. “I am so terribly sorry that I have not made your acquaintance before now. I assure you that I have been trying to do so, and whilst this greeting is rather unorthodox, I do hope that you will forgive me for it.”

  “Of--of course,” she stammered, her face flushing just a little.

  “I must beg your pardon,” George continued, taking advantage of her surprise. “I have not introduced myself. The Earl of Hartley, at your service.” He swept into another graceful bow, surprised to see that she did not curtsy in return. There was a hardness around her mouth, a flicker of fear in her eyes, and as he looked down at her, she clasped her hands in front of her, hiding her dance card from him.

  “You are Lady Ellen, I know,” he continued, feeling his confidence begin to wane in the face of her evident dislike. “How wonderful to see you in London for the Season. Are you enjoying it thus far? I confess that I do not much care for anything other than balls. The recitals and the like I find much too boring and a waste of my time.”

  She tilted her head just a little. “I was enjoying my evening,” she replied quietly with a lift of her eyebrow.

  He was flabbergasted and not quite sure what to say in response. He had never suspected that
she would return such an insult to him, her dislike of his company more than evident.

  “Might I have the pleasure of dancing with you?” he asked, lifting his chin and staring at her, refusing to be intimidated. “I do hope you have at least one dance free this evening.”

  “Alas, I do not,” she replied at once, still hiding her dance card from him.

  He frowned, his gut tightening. “Are you quite sure, Lady Ellen?”

  She did not back down, her beautiful features firm, with no smile on her lips. “Lord Hartley, let me be clear. I have no dance available for you.”

  “I see,” George mumbled, not quite sure where to look, his bravado evaporating completely. “And might I ask why I should accept such an insult without question?”

  She gave a soft laugh, an incredulous expression on her face. “I am surprised you have to ask, Lord Hartley. Surely you are as aware of your reputation as I?”

  He swallowed hard, embarrassment ripping through him as he heard Lady Charlotte give a soft laugh – although whether or not it was directed at him, he was not quite sure.

  “You cannot imagine that it would be wise for me to accept a dance with you, Lord Hartley,” Lady Ellen continued quietly. “It would not do for a debutante such as myself to dance with a gentleman I know to be nothing more than a rogue and philanderer.”

  “I am sorry that you have listened to rumor and gossip,” he retorted, aware of just how poorly this conversation was going. “I am neither of those things, my lady.”

  She sniffed and looked away. “I think this conversation is at an end, Lord Hartley.”

  George felt as though his feet had become fastened to the floor. Lady Ellen kept her face turned away from his, her expression one of utter distaste.

  “I think Lady Ellen has made her thoughts on the matter clear, Lord Hartley,” Lady Charlotte said, moving a little closer to her friend. “Do excuse us.” She lifted one eyebrow and looked at him steadily, her expectations clear.