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

by Joyce Alec

  15

  Unfortunately, by the time the ball came around the following day, Lord Hartley had sent a note saying he had been entirely unable to locate Lord Morton. Ellen, who was now ready to go to Lord Hughes’ ball, felt rather nervous as she paced up and down the drawing room, waiting for his carriage to arrive.

  “Oh, so you are ready after all!” her mother exclaimed, as she came into the room. “I must say, Ellen, you look positively beautiful this evening. I am sure Lord Hartley will appreciate the effort you have made.” She came closer and took Ellen’s hand in her own, catching her daughter’s complete attention. “I know you have found the last two weeks particularly trying, but it has been good to see you smiling again lately.”

  Ellen looked up at her mother, surprised. “You think me less morose?”

  “Indeed, I do,” her mother smiled, her expression soft. “Have you made much progress with Lord Hartley?”

  Thinking of their carriage ride the previous afternoon, Ellen gave a small nod. “I think so.”

  “I am very glad of it,” her mother declared. “I think it will all turn out rather well, my dear, so long as you do not bear him a grudge and find a way forward for you both.”

  “I understand, Mama.”

  Just as she spoke, there came a knock at the door, and Lord Hartley was announced. Ellen curtsied quickly as he bowed, a little annoyed to discover that her heart quickened at the sight of him. He was looking rather dashing, she had to admit, with his crisp white shirt and green cravat. His dark brown hair was neat, and his eyes held a hint of warmth as he smiled at her.

  “I thought the color might match your eyes,” he said, evidently seeing her eyes linger on his cravat. “And I do think it is quite the right shade.”

  A heat travelled up her spine, but Ellen straightened her shoulders and tried not to feel it. “You are very thoughtful, Lord Hartley.”

  Her mother smiled and excused herself, claiming that she was going in search of her father to hurry him along. Of course, Ellen knew it was simply a ploy to give herself and Lord Hartley a few minutes alone, but to her surprise, she found that she rather appreciated it.

  “You are looking very lovely this evening, my dear,” Lord Hartley murmured, his eyes somewhere near her toes, as though he were unsure as to whether or not she would accept his compliment. “Your beauty never ceases to astound me.”

  This time, Ellen could not prevent the heat in her face from blooming. “Thank you, Hartley,” she replied, dropping his formal title. “I think this evening will be quite enjoyable.”

  He blinked, as though surprised that she was not as upset with him as she had been, and Ellen sighed inwardly, aware that she was going to have to explain herself a little more. She had tried to say a few things in the carriage the previous afternoon, but it had not been enough. If she was to be honest with him, then this was her opportunity.

  “George,” she began, seeing the astonishment on his face, as she tried out his Christian name. “I know that we have a great deal to work through together, but I will be honest with you and say that I have come to something of an understanding about my own behavior.”

  “I see,” he replied, his voice quiet. “And what is that?”

  Drawing in a deep breath, Ellen gave him a small smile. “It is the fact that I allowed my own desires and hopes to push me into a situation that ended badly,” she admitted. “I said before that I had an affection for you, and it was that which drove me to insist on a walk in the gardens.” She did not mention that she had kissed him first, finding it difficult enough to speak to him so candidly. “You have asked me to trust you, and I think that it is now becoming apparent that I must do so. I have no choice but to believe you when you say that it was your intention that night to tell me all.”

  He nodded fervently, drawing closer to her. “It was, my dear Ellen,” he said, in a low voice. “I knew it would push you away from me for good, but I could not allow myself to continue with such a façade, not when I was losing my heart to you.”

  His profession of love had her breath catching in her chest, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to find the words to say.

  “I know that this is still an unfortunate circumstance, but I will confess that I cannot help but have a little happiness in the knowledge that I am marrying the lady I have come to love,” he continued, his hand reaching out for hers, and Ellen found herself taking it automatically. “You may never feel the same as you did before, but I profess my love for you, Ellen. You are the reason that I wanted to put my past life behind me for good, the reason that I am now striving to be the very best kind of man I can be. I wanted to tell you the truth then, so that I would not bring you any kind of harm, and yet I could not hide my desire for you. I kissed you because it was the fulfilment of all that I wanted. My marriage to you will be the happiest day I have ever known – and it will be all the happier if you are able to find it within yourself to begin to trust me again.”

  Ellen swallowed twice, trying to rid herself of the sudden ache in her throat. His words were heavy with truth, the look in his eyes one of honesty and hope. “I forgive you for what you did,” she said hoarsely. “My mother told me that you accepted all the blame when you spoke to my father when you could easily have told him the truth about my part in all this. You protected me from shame and did all you could to shoulder the responsibility. It was not all your doing, George. I accept my own actions for what they were.”

  He shook his head, his expression serious. “You cannot know what that means to me, Ellen,” he replied softly. They looked at one another for a long moment, the silence between them growing thick.

  Slowly, Hartley lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to the palm of her hand. Since she did not yet have her gloves on, Ellen felt every part of it, her heart threatening to burst from her chest.

  In forgiving him, a burden had rolled from her shoulders, clearing her heart of the some of the lingering pain. It was as though she could now see the way forward, the path lit with a delicate light. A path that, should she allow it to, would lead her into love.

  16

  “Are you sure you are all right?”

  Lady Ellen pressed his hand and smiled, a peaceful look in her eyes as she turned her gaze toward him.

  “You need not worry, George. I am quite at ease.”

  The ball had been going on for an hour or so and, as yet, Lord Morton had not said a word—although George had seen him wandering in amongst the guests. George had done his best to relax, but still felt himself filled with tension as the evening progressed.

  He could not explain how relieved he had been that Lady Ellen had spoken so openly with him, the happiness he felt swelling his heart with affection for her. Despite their difficult start, George now had confidence that their marriage could be a happy one, which was more than he had ever hoped for. Lady Ellen’s honesty had opened that door for them both. To have her on his arm now gave him such a sense of pride and contentment that he felt as though no one on the face of the earth had ever been as happy as he was.

  And yet, despite that, there was still a slowly rising tension over Lord Morton’s presence.

  “I think it will be our second dance very soon,” he murmured, as Lady Ellen turned to face him a little more, her eyes bright. “The waltz.”

  “The waltz,” she repeated, a small smile spreading across her face. “I believe I am even looking forward to being in your arms, Lord Hartley, if you can believe it.”

  He swallowed at the look in her eyes, forgetting all about Lord Morton for the moment. “You are quite wonderful, Ellen,” he said on a breath, his heart and mind reacting to the thought of holding her close against him. “I cannot quite believe we have made it to this point.”

  Her smile broadened, and she looked to be ready to say more, only for a loud, overly cheerful voice to break into their quiet conversation.

  “Ah look, tis Lord Hartley and his dearly loved betrothed, Lady Ellen.”


  George set his shoulders as Lord Morton’s voice rang out from across the ballroom, just as the orchestra’s music came to a close. A great many guests turned their heads to see who it was making such a fool of themselves, and George felt Lady Ellen go rigid, as she took his hand in hers, holding it behind her as she turned to face Lord Morton.

  “Lord Morton,” George grated, as the man approached. “I have been looking for you.”

  Lord Morton appeared to be rather drunk, which did not come as a surprise to George. His friend had always had a penchant for liquor.

  “Looking for me, eh?” Lord Morton replied, eyeing George with one raised eyebrow. “And why is that?”

  George felt Lady Ellen’s hand tighten on his but did not stop himself from speaking bluntly.

  “Because I have heard from a close and trusted friend that you have been dragging my betrothed’s name through the mud, Morton,” he stated calmly, aware of the small crowd now beginning to form around him. “I came to warn you to stop, or it shall be all the worse for you.”

  Morton sneered at him, his lip curling. “You think you are such a fine gentleman now, do you not, Hartley? We used to be such great friends, you and I, taking our pleasures wherever we wished it and not taking anything too seriously. Now, here you are, engaged to Lady Ellen and pretending to all that you are, in fact, happy with this arrangement. I know full well that you despise the very idea of matrimony.”

  Well aware that Lord Morton would be easily able to stain Lady Ellen’s reputation if he said anything more, George stepped forward, letting go of Lady Ellen’s hand.

  “Lord Morton,” he said, firmly and loud enough for everyone else to hear. “Let me be perfectly clear. I am more than delighted with my forthcoming marriage to Lady Ellen. She is the perfect lady and will make me the proudest man in all of London on the day she takes my name. I was once as you describe, but it has been her very presence that has brought about this change in me. I will never turn back to my old ways, I promise you. Lady Ellen has stolen my heart, and I consider myself more than blessed to call her my betrothed and—one day—my wife. It is only unfortunate that you do not understand matters of the heart, for then you would be less willing to make a fool of yourself.”

  The murmurs all around him told George that his words had made quite an impact on the crowd, but he did not look away from Lord Morton. He prayed silently that the man would choose to remain silent, given that it would be in his own best interests to do so, but—unfortunately—it appeared that Lord Morton was not yet finished.

  “I know what I saw,” Lord Morton hissed. “It was she who pressed her attentions on you, she who was desperate for you to go to her. I know that—”

  George did not hesitate but grasped Lord Morton’s collar and hauled him up, cutting off his speech.

  “That is quite enough, Morton!” he exclaimed, as the gasps of the audience met his ears. “I have already warned you about speaking falsehoods about Lady Ellen, and I will endure them no more. Name your seconds. We duel this very night. I shall see you in the gardens in half an hour. I trust you brought your blade with you.”

  Letting go of Lord Morton, George kept his gaze trained on him, as he saw Lord Morton’s face pale. Evidently the man had not expected him to follow through with his threat, but George had every intention of keeping Lady Ellen’s honor intact.

  “It is in my carriage,” Lord Morton muttered, as the silence in the room grew in anticipation.

  “Half an hour,” George replied firmly, before turning on his heel and walking away from Lord Morton with Lady Ellen on his arm.

  “George,” she whispered frantically, clinging to him. “You cannot do this.”

  “I must, my dear,” he replied, patting her hand, as they walked up the staircase together and ignoring the whispers that followed them. “I will not have your reputation damaged in any way, and Lord Morton knows that. I gave him ample warning, and it was his choice to ignore that. It shall be swords, and I shall win, never fear. I know Lord Morton well, and his skill in that area is severely lacking.”

  Lady Ellen looked up at him, as they came to the balcony, standing quietly together for a few moments. George knew that Ellen’s parents would soon come in search of her, and he did not want to hide her away from them. Yet, he found himself needing to stay away from the crowd below.

  “I shall have to fetch my sword,” George murmured, as she took her hand from his arm. “You need not fear for me, Lady Ellen. I will not lose, and I certainly will not kill him.”

  She shook her head, her eyes glassy. “I do not want you to do this, George.”

  “I must,” he replied, gently, lifting her chin with one finger. “I cannot allow anyone to put a stain on your reputation.”

  Her lips moved, but no sound came out. She swallowed hard once, twice, and then threw her arms around his neck, crushing herself against him.

  George held her tightly, hating that she was upset. “I could not allow Lord Morton to continue to speak,” he said softly. “You are more important, more precious to me than any other, Ellen. I will defend you with my very last breath if I have to.”

  “I pray it will not come to that,” Ellen whispered, her voice a little muffled. “I would prefer to have a stain on my name than to let you do this.”

  A small chuckle escaped from George’s lips. “So, it appears we are both as determined as each other then. Unfortunately, since I have already laid down the challenge, I cannot easily back down. You will simply have to trust me.” He waited until she had lifted her head and looked into his eyes before smiling at her. “Do you think you can do that?”

  A single tear splashed onto her cheek, but she nodded, leaning into his palm as he gently wiped the tear away. “I can trust you,” she whispered. “Not because I have to, but because I want to. You are proving yourself to be the fine gentleman you once pretended to be.”

  “Lord Hartley? Ellen?”

  Making their way quickly toward the staircase, George hoped that he was not about to find himself berated by Ellen’s mother who was quickly ascending toward them.

  “I only just heard what happened!” she exclaimed with a broad smile on her face that George could not quite understand. “It now appears that Lord Morton has taken to his heels and run!”

  George stared at Lady Fancot, whilst Ellen laughed aloud beside him.

  “It is quite true, I assure you!” the countess exclaimed with alacrity, seeing George’s astonished look. “He made a meal of going to get his sword from the confines of his carriage, stepped inside, and then was off. He is now the laughing stock of the ton – and you have no need to defend Ellen’s honor, although it was very fine of you to be so willing to do so.”

  “My goodness,” Ellen breathed, her fingers tightening on his own. “And so, the threat has passed and all that remains is to look forward to our wedding day.”

  “So it seems,” George replied, awash with relief and surprise. “Who would have thought it?”

  The Countess of Fancot smiled, her eyes filled with happiness for them both. “I shall leave you for a few minutes, but I think it best that you return to the ball very soon,” she said, with a slight warning in her voice. “It would be best not to start any new scandals since we have managed to quash the other with such success!”

  George laughed and nodded, promising to take Lady Ellen downstairs after a few moments.

  “Well,” Ellen murmured, turning to face him. “It seems you have been given a reprieve, my love. And I must say, I am glad of it.”

  “As am I,” George agreed softly, aware of the tenderness in her gaze. “Come, my dear. I do not want to waste these few precious moments.”

  Aware of the crowd below them, many of which would be watching them he was quite sure, George took Ellen’s hand and led her to a small alcove where they could be entirely hidden. His heart was beating frantically in his chest, as his desire to have her in his arms grew with every passing second.

  “Ellen,” he whi
spered, as she drew close to him. He did not need to say anything more, for there was an understanding in her eyes, a willingness that he had not expected. When he put his arms around her waist, she stood on tiptoe and gently placed one hand on his chest. When George lowered his head, she raised her face to his, their lips meeting in a gentle and tender kiss.

  It stole his breath, his heart pounding as she kissed him, feeling her softness underneath his hands. This was the first kiss they had shared where there had been a full understanding and acceptance of one another, and, with it, there came a measure of healing.

  His blood began to burn as he angled his head. Ellen wrapped both arms around his neck, pulling herself tightly against him, and George felt his whole being respond to her. There was so much passion within her that George had to pull back.

  “My dear,” he breathed, resting his forehead against hers. “I confess to you now that my heart is yours. I love you with all my heart and soul.”

  The smile on her face made his heart lift. “I confess I feel the same,” she whispered, stepping out from the alcove, her hand in his. “Despite everything, I cannot deny the love growing in my heart. The love for my betrothed, the reformed Lord Hartley.”

  Alice’s Arranged Marriage

  1

  Nineteenth Century, New York City

  “Mama, are you quite sure about this?”

  “Of course.” Mrs. Jones patted her daughter’s hand, put a bright smile on her face, and stepped forward, bringing Alice along with her. A knot formed in Alice’s stomach as she tried to smile at the other guests, knowing full well that there would be an immediate comment about her presence here this evening.

  Sighing inwardly, Alice forced herself to do as her mother expected and began to look all about her for someone to talk to. Her head spun this way and that, her eyes roving across the room and wondering where she might go. There seemed to be a slight lull in conversation as she and her mother walked further into the room, as though every eye was on her, waiting for her to do or say something that they could then talk about amongst themselves. Heat crept into Alice’s cheeks as she held her head high. She was doing her best to fit in, but it seemed it was never good enough.