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

by Joyce Alec

  Reluctantly, Arthur allowed Miss Smythe free from his embrace and saw her step aside—but not before he had seen the flare of color in her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes. Looking towards Lord Davenport, he saw that the man appeared to be struggling in some way. His face was tight, covered in darkness and shadows, whilst his eyes were jumping around the room, not resting on anything for any length of time.

  Apparently, Lord Davenport was somewhat anxious. It was clear that he did not have power any longer. He was weak now, the strength taken from him by the swiftness of mind and determination of spirit shown by both Miss Smythe and Lord Matthews.

  “I think you can tell that I am less than pleased with your choice of actions, Lord Davenport,” Arthur said heavily, advancing towards Lord Davenport with slow steps. “But it seems you have failed in your endeavors.”

  Lord Davenport snorted, although he still did not look at Arthur. “I hardly think so, Wickton,” he sneered. “Miss Smythe is still to be my bride. She is still to be—”

  “That is where you are mistaken,” Miss Smythe said, her voice crisp and clear. “I hereby bring our engagement to an end, Lord Davenport. I shall not marry you.” She, too, moved forward, but only to stand next to Arthur, her arm brushing his. “Our engagement was of your making, Lord Davenport. You manipulated me into it and I have now untangled myself from you. There is nothing between us now.”

  Lord Davenport shook his head, his jaw working furiously. “You shall do as you are told.”

  Arthur threw a glance down towards Miss Smythe and saw in her countenance a fierce determination that he could not help but applaud. She had bloomed in confidence and resilience, it seemed. He should never have doubted her. He should never even have hesitated for a second when it came to writing his note. Miss Smythe had more than enough confidence and courage to do what had been required.

  “I do not think that Miss Smythe needs you to tell her what to do, Lord Davenport,” he said smoothly, seeing the way that Miss Smythe’s eyes jumped to his. He gave her a quick smile before turning back to the now purple-faced Lord Davenport. “She seems to know her own mind well, I should say.”

  “I do,” Miss Smythe agreed. “And as I have said, I will not marry you, Lord Davenport.” Much to Arthur’s surprise, her hand came to rest on his arm and, before he could stop himself, Arthur had placed his own hand on top, his heart bursting to life at what was the simplest of touches.

  Lord Matthews cleared his throat again. “And I do not think, Lord Davenport, that you are in any position to argue with what the lady wishes,” he reminded the now hapless Lord Davenport. “Given that you have held Lord Wickton against his will for some days, I think that the state of your betrothal should be the very least of your troubles.”

  Arthur watched with satisfaction as the anger began to burn in Lord Davenport’s eyes. It was as though he knew that he had no other course of action and was yet trying to find a way to wheedle his way out of it.

  “I…I…”

  Lord Davenport was struggling to speak, his words slipping and sliding over each other one at a time.

  Arthur grimaced, his jaw tightening. “What is your intention for Lord Davenport?” he asked, directing his question first to Miss Smythe and then to Lord Matthews. “I fear that to allow him to continue to remain in society would only endanger the lives of others.”

  Much to his relief, Lord Matthews nodded, as though they had thought of such a possibility. “Indeed,” he agreed, gesturing for Lord Davenport to sit down on the small, rickety seat that Arthur had come to think of as his own. Lord Davenport muttered something under his breath but did not move, only for Lord Matthews to give him a hard prod in his back which forced Lord Davenport to stumble forward.

  Arthur could not help but think that the way Lord Davenport now presented himself was exactly the opposite to how he had first appeared, when he had crowed over his victory. He appeared smaller, in a way, shrinking down as he sank into the chair. There was no longer even a flicker of triumph in Lord Davenport’s expression, not even a hint of the brash, bold gentleman that Arthur had first known. A short silence crept across the room, the air of anticipation growing steadily. Miss Smythe’s hand tightened in his and Arthur was overcome with a rush of deep, astonishing affection that he had never thought he would feel. Seeing her again had made him realize just what he had been feeling for so long, which had been hidden even from him.

  Lord Matthews finally cleared his throat, a dark smile on his face as he directed his words to Lord Davenport. It was as if he had the same relief and sense of accomplishment that Lord Davenport would now feel the consequences of his actions

  “Miss Smythe and I have discovered the truth, Lord Davenport. We have discovered that you came after Lord Wickton the night he confronted you in White’s, even though you said you did not.”

  A cold hand gripped Arthur’s heart as those particular events came back to him. “The hackney driver,” he said, feeling Emily’s hand squeeze his own tightly. “You shot the fellow in an attempt to get to me, did you not?”

  Lord Davenport did not so much as look up. There was no confession there, but as far as Arthur was concerned, there was no need for those words to be spoken. His silence was confirmation enough.

  “Then you have killed a man,” Lord Matthews continued, his voice low. “You have taken a man against his will and held him here in order to further your own desires. You have cheated, lied, and deceived.” His eyes grew hard. “There is nothing gentlemanly about you, Lord Davenport.”

  “Good gracious,” Arthur heard Emily breathe as she shifted all the closer to him. A tremor ran through her which Arthur fully understood. To know that Lord Davenport had killed another man—regardless of whether it had been an accident or not—was more than a little shocking. How glad he was to know that Emily was freed from Lord Davenport forever!

  “Therefore, Lord Davenport, we are to give you a proposal which you must accept, otherwise your reputation will be torn into such tiny pieces that you shall not be able to even garner a single modicum of respect.”

  “Oh?” Lord Davenport spoke for the first time in some minutes. He looked up sullenly at Arthur, his expression dark and angry.

  “You are to leave England’s shores,” Miss Smythe said, her voice wavering. “You are to leave this place you love so very dearly and make your home elsewhere.”

  Lord Davenport shook his head but did not speak.

  “The Bow Street Runners shall be informed of your actions as regards the hackney driver and your imprisonment of Lord Wickton,” Lord Matthews added, giving Lord Davenport no opportunity to protest. “If you remain in England, if you remain on these shores, then you are taking your future into your hands, for you know full well what will occur thereafter.”

  Arthur let out a long breath as he saw Lord Davenport slump in his seat, his head bowed low, his shoulders slumped. It was clear that the gentleman knew precisely what Lord Matthews meant.

  “You shall make arrangements this very night,” Lord Matthews finished firmly. “And I shall go with you to ensure that all is done as it should be. In fact, I shall not leave your side until I see your ship sailing away from England, certain that you are within.”

  “And should you return to England, then the consequences will be severe,” Miss Smythe vowed. “This is your only chance to escape, Lord Davenport. It is, as far as I am concerned, more than you deserve given what you have done thus far.”

  Arthur nodded fervently, fully in agreement with all that Miss Smythe had said. “It is a kindness that you should be most grateful for, Lord Davenport,” he stated, feeling his anger begin to burn within him again as he clutched Miss Smythe’s hand in his, hating what Lord Davenport had done to her as well as to himself. “Were it up to myself, then I should speak to the Bow Street Runners at this very moment!”

  A few minutes of silence reigned thereafter, for Lord Davenport said nothing, simply glaring at the floor, his head low and his shoulders tense. Arthur
remained where he was, determined that he himself would accompany Lord Matthews to ensure that Lord Davenport did not escape.

  “But what of you, Miss Smythe?”

  Lord Davenport’s voice was harsh and cruel, a faint grin on his face as he looked up at Miss Smythe. Arthur frowned and made to take a step forward, only for Miss Smythe to do so first, her hand pulling from his.

  “What of me, Lord Davenport?” she asked coolly, showing no sign of fear. “I consider myself blessed to be free of you.”

  “But your reputation,” he sneered, his expression taut. “You shall be sent to Scotland, to that decrepit aunt of yours, whilst all of London questions your poor choices.”

  Arthur chuckled. The sound seemed to rip through the tension, making the sneer drop from Lord Davenport’s face as he stared incredulously at Arthur.

  “You are ridiculous, Lord Davenport,” Arthur declared, moving towards Miss Smythe without hesitation. “You dare to think that threatening Miss Smythe will prevent her from demanding that you obey Lord Matthews’ requests?” He gave Miss Smythe a fond look, seeing her wide eyes and the faint flush that was now rising in her cheeks. “I have missed Miss Smythe’s company in a way that I did not expect, in the days I have been kept here,” he continued, coming to stand beside her. “She has proven herself to have more determination, more strength and courage, than I ever thought she could have—and that was my failing.” Reaching out his hand, he waited for Miss Smythe to take it, a spark shooting up his arm as she did so. “I do not know anything about this threat of Scotland and your elderly aunt, but I shall not allow it, Miss Smythe. Lord Davenport took you from me once, when I was foolish enough not to realize what it was that I wanted. My heart has thought of nothing other than you these last few days. I have realized that I have always had an affection for you, an affection that I have struggled to allow myself even to consider.” His fingers wound through hers and the anger he felt towards Lord Davenport faded away in the happiness that began to fill him. “If you will allow me, Miss Smythe, I would make sure that no stain clings to your reputation. I would have you marry me, to be my bride and my wife. I confess to you that my heart belongs to no other.”

  Lord Davenport’s mouth fell open, his eyes staring up at Miss Smythe as she considered Arthur’s request. Her head tipped lightly to one side, her emerald eyes glinting with what Arthur hoped were not tears of sadness.

  “We have much to discuss, Lord Wickton,” she said after a few moments. “For there is much that I would like to share with you, much that I should like to express. But,” she continued, her smile spreading across her face and giving her such beauty that Arthur felt his breath steal away from him, “for the moment, let me say that it would bring me great joy to accept your proposal.” A laugh escaped from her as he let out a long breath of relief. “Yes, Lord Wickton, I will marry you.”

  “Good.” He closed his eyes tightly and let out another sigh of relief, having feared that she might reject him. “I think that, even though I have endured a great deal, the reward that has followed more than makes up for my struggle.” Looking down at her, he smiled into her eyes, thinking that she was truly the most beautiful young lady of his acquaintance. “Thank you, Miss Smythe.”

  “This is all lovely,” Lord Matthews said, sounding both delighted and amused in equal measure. “And may I be the first to congratulate you, for I fear that Lord Davenport will not, but I must return to our issues with Lord Davenport.” He came towards the gentleman who was still sitting in his chair and Arthur saw that Lord Davenport had gone rather grey over the last few minutes. “Come now, Lord Davenport,” Lord Matthews said briskly. “We must go. I expect that your guests will not miss you.” Reaching down, he grasped Lord Davenport’s arm and hauled him to his feet, before giving him a gentle shove in the direction of the door. “And I shall write to you tomorrow, Wickton, to ensure you are aware of the progress that has been made in Lord Davenport’s departure.”

  “I thank you,” Arthur replied gratefully, walking slowly after Lord Davenport with Miss Smythe now on his arm. “I look forward to it.”

  “And mayhap I might call upon you tomorrow afternoon,” Miss Smythe murmured as Lord Davenport left the room, followed closely by Lord Matthews. “I know there is a great deal to consider and you must be exceedingly tired but I—”

  Unable to stop himself, Arthur reached down and kissed her, hard. As he lifted his head, he saw that she had stilled completely, her eyes closed.

  “You are the only one I need consider now, Miss Smythe,” he said softly. “My heart is yours and I can think of no one else.”

  “Emily.”

  She opened her eyes and smiled at him, a little self-consciously. “You must call me ‘Emily’ now, I think. Since there is now an… intimacy between us?” She looked a trifle concerned, as though she were not certain he would agree.

  Joy rose in his heart.

  “Emily,” he said tenderly, the name soft on his lips. “My dear, sweet Emily. It will be my honor to do so.”

  15

  The following afternoon, Emily found herself feeling light, elated, and boundlessly happy. Charlotte had already come by earlier that day, having only arrived in London late last evening, and they had had a joyous reunion. Charlotte had been accompanied by her husband, Lord Glenister, and was somewhat tired and strained, having gone first to Lord Wickton’s estate before traveling to London. She had been overwhelmed with relief, although she had reassured Emily that she was more than a little horrified to hear what Lord Davenport had done.

  Emily smiled to herself as she looked out of the townhouse window, waiting for the arrival of Lord Wickton. Charlotte had promised her that her brother had every intention of calling upon her at his earliest convenience, but that he was doing his level best to ensure that Lord Davenport was making his way to the docks without delay. That, in its own way, brought Emily both relief and contentment, knowing that Lord Wickton felt the same urgency to be within her company as she did for him.

  “Emily?”

  Startling her completely, the drawing room door suddenly flew open and banged horribly off the wall. Flinching, Emily turned to see the irate figure of her father storm into the room, his eyes small and narrowed as they sought her out.

  By the time she had found her father last evening, he had given up every semblance of respectability and had chosen to indulge in Lord Davenport’s excellent selection of brandies and whiskies. There had been no use in trying to explain to him what had occurred and so she had been forced to leave any attempt at conversation until he had recovered himself a little.

  It appeared that he had done so now.

  “I have risen from my bed only to hear that you are no longer engaged to Lord Davenport,” he stated angrily, flinging one hand out towards her, his finger pointing at her as though she were the cause of all the difficulties that had now followed. “You foolish girl! Lord Davenport was an excellent choice and you have turned him down! This was your only opportunity to make your family proud. You have disgraced me. Do you wish to explain yourself?”

  Emily did not move, nor did she speak. It was clear, yet again, that her father cared nothing for her, but rather had his own motivations for being so distraught over the ending of her engagement to Lord Davenport.

  Emily sighed and did her utmost not to look disparagingly at her father. For whatever reason, now that her engagement to Lord Davenport was at an end, and now that she was expecting the visit of Lord Wickton at any moment, her father’s threats felt thin. She had nothing to fear from him, not any longer. His lack of care and consideration would never again bring her pain, for she had found someone who would, she believed, bring her such joy that her thoughts would never again turn to what she lacked in her father.

  “It is not me that has disgraced our family, Father. It seems that you would rather I marry a man that has threatened harm upon me, rather than being concerned for my welfare. Is that how a father should treat his own daughter? I know that you do n
ot wish to spend money on another Season for me, but would you rather that I be unhappy for the rest of my days?” she stated calmly, as her father’s countenance began to grow dark.

  Her father’s lip curled. “How dare you speak to me with such arrogance?” he demanded, taking a few steps towards her. “You are the cause of all this trouble, Emily. You broke off the engagement without so much as consulting me!”

  “You would have forbidden me to do so,” Emily interrupted, hearing footsteps coming swiftly towards the open door and feeling her heart leap in her chest. “And I knew then that I had to make my own decision. I have had enough of being manipulated, Father, both by yourself and by Lord Davenport. Your threats mean nothing to me. Nothing will induce me to return to Lord Davenport, not even the threat of being sent away to Scotland.” She held her father’s gaze steadily, her confidence rising as the color began to wash from his face. Her newfound confidence and strength of mind were something of a shock to her father, who clearly found himself entirely at a loss as to how to deal with her.

  “How dare you?” he hissed, taking a few steps forward. “You shall go to Lord Davenport this moment and beg his forgiveness! I shall not spend a single penny on sending you to Scotland, not when I had your future already secured.”

  “I think that will be rather difficult, Lord Hornsby.”

  Emily’s eyes flew to the figure who was now standing framed in the doorway. Her face split with a smile, her heart bursting into life within her chest. Lord Hornsby, suddenly caught by confusion at the sound and sight of some unknown figure within his house, turned slowly, his anger fading away to be replaced with uncertainty.

  “As I have said,” Lord Wickton continued, striding into the room without waiting to be welcomed by Lord Hornsby, “that will be rather difficult, sir, since Lord Davenport has already boarded ship.” He threw a quick glance towards Emily, a satisfied smile quirking the corner of his mouth. “Lord Matthews is waiting to confirm that it has left England’s shores and I have no doubt that Lord Davenport will not be seen again.” He inclined his head towards Emily, his eyes fixing themselves to her face as she rose. “Might you care for a short walk, Miss Smythe? The day is fine and I believe we have a good deal to say to one another.” He ignored her father entirely, Emily noticed, feeling her heart race with joy as she nodded and walked towards him.