A Charming Lady for the Intriguing Baronet: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  Giles gave a short nod and whistled, alerting the carriage driver to come closer. She pulled her hand out of the Reverend’s grasp and felt some tension in his hands. It appeared that he did not want to let go of her hand. She gave a last tug, and he released her, smiling into her eyes.

  “I hope to see you soon, Miss Madelene,” he said.

  Madelene opened her mouth but was at a loss at what to say. Discomfort settled in as time elapsed and the silence grew longer. The Reverend was sending her strange looks that set her on edge. One of the women had informed her that he was looking for a worthy wife, and Madelene just hoped that he didn’t have any designs on her. When she saw the carriage approach them, she couldn’t help breathing a sigh of relief.

  “Farewell, Reverend. I’ll send word of my next visit.”

  Madelene all but ran to the carriage, only relaxing when she was well ensconced in its walls. Giles sat up front in his usual seat, conversing with the driver. Usually, she would insist that he join her in the carriage, but today she was grateful that she was alone to think. If she didn’t know any better, she would believe that the Reverend had a tendre for her.

  “But that’s preposterous! He is a man of the cloth, a respectable man whom the community respects. Surely he wasn’t communicating his interest in me?”

  If that were so, then the Reverend would be added to the list of the many men who had set their hearts on her but were rejected. Madelene had no interest in being the wife of an English gentleman. She was forced to reside alongside them, but her real home was upon the sea. No respectable Englishman would allow her the freedom that she so desperately needed. She untied the ribbons below her chin and removed her bonnet, glad to be rid of the troublesome contraption. Maria insisted that she wear it whenever she went out, but she found it hideous. She would lief have her curls loose and free from any contraptions that the Directoire cooked up in their little meetings.

  “Well, at least the clothes aren’t all that stifling,” she said. “I quite enjoy the lighter materials, but these undergarments are a bother.”

  However, if not for them, then any lucky person would be able to see straight through her dress and get an eyeful. Madelene begrudgingly accepted her clothes, but she would much rather be wearing the men’s clothing that she had hidden away in her trunk. Only Maria and Giles knew of them; if her aunt were to catch her, that would be the end of her night-time escapades. She sighed and leaned back against her seat, already weary of the conversation she was to have with her aunt, Cornelia. That is if she discovers my absence.

  “How unfortunate my uncle was to have married her.”

  From her very first day at Grosvenor House, Cornelia had made it clear that she expected her to toe the line and abide by her rules, but Madelene refused to give up everything that she enjoyed. Whenever the opportunity presented itself, she would sneak out of the house and go horse riding, sitting astride her horse rather than the dreaded side saddle, or swim in the stream that ran through her uncle’s property or even assist the poor with provisions.

  Her eyes drifted closed, and before long, sleep had overtaken her, plunging her into a world of adventure and freedom.

  *****

  Much to her chagrin, Madelene was unable to slip into the house undetected.

  “You wretched girl!” her aunt screeched. “What do you mean by sneaking into this house like this? After all we have done for you?”

  Madelene kept her gaze lowered, knowing that any direct eye contact would be misconstrued by her aunt. She had learnt that the hard way when her aunt’s hand had connected with her cheek some months ago. It had taken all that she had not to retaliate in kind, but Maria had grounded her with a single touch to her arm. She now stood behind Madelene, quietly supporting her.

  “Is this what you learnt on those godforsaken ships?” her aunt continued. “Well, not in my house young lady! I shall see you out on the streets before I let you dishonour this family!”

  Madelene rolled her eyes, her gaze still lowered. Her aunt was given over to theatrics at the smallest of incidents; no wonder her uncle spent his days in gambling houses. As it was, he was currently in London on a supposed business meeting with fellow merchants, but Madelene had strong reason to doubt this. She had witnessed her uncle remove money from the safe, along with trinkets of varying value. Madelene suspected that her aunt knew of the severity of her uncle’s gambling problem.

  “That was never my intention, Aunt Cornelia. I simply wished to pay the Reverend a visit and pray for this wonderful family. The Lord has truly been good to me to have placed me in this home.”

  She heard Maria cough behind her and stifled a smile. Her lie was far-fetched, but she knew that her aunt would not begrudge her a trip to the church. Mrs Cornelia Huntington believed that she needed to be saved from the fiery pits of hell for all of her insolence. If anyone were in danger of the pits of hell, it would be her aunt.

  Mrs Huntington sniffed, pursing her lips as she studied her niece for any deceit. The girl had been a bother from the moment her husband had brought her home a year ago, and she was all but ready to send her packing. However, the handsome sum that her father had given to them for his daughter’s well-being was too significant an amount to ignore. She grimaced as she thought about the gambling debts her husband had attained. Harry was a weakling of a man who had no trouble gambling their savings away, so much so that her daughters were denied a sizeable dowry. But Cornelia was a woman who knew how to deal with whatever life threw at her. Madelene had come with a large dowry that was practically indecent. A slap in the face; that is what it was. Here were her darling daughters, practically penniless, and this uncouth wild girl arrives at her house with money to put a family in comfort for the rest of their lives. It had only been fair that she had used Madelene’s dowry for her daughters – not that she had informed her husband of her decision. No, Harry was too busy with his latest courtesan to worry about his family. It was solely up to her to uphold the family name. The girl stood there wide-eyed and innocent looking, but Cornelia knew that there was deceit hidden behind those sapphire blue eyes. However, she could not spend any further time on this girl, for they had visitors about to arrive any minute.

  “There is no time to tarry, girl. The Wickhams and Pevenseys are due to arrive any minute. I trust you to go up to your room and think upon what you have done.”

  The girl looked up, and Cornelia could have sworn that there had been a look of joy before she masked her expression with a carefully closed look.

  “Yes, Aunt Cornelia. May I take my leave?”

  Cornelia flapped her hands. “Go, go, and let me not catch you anywhere near my guests.”

  She didn’t need this golden-haired siren seducing her daughters’ suitors away from them. The girl nodded and took off towards the stairs, rushing like the wild child she was.

  “Do not run! It is unbecoming!”

  Madelene’s steps slowed to a fast walk, her abigail trailing behind her at a more leisured pace. If it were up to her, Cornelia would have driven that woman from her house. But she couldn’t as she had come as a package deal with the young chit, along with that great oaf. However, Cornelia kept her eye on her – she refused to be outdone by a simple maid. She had worked far too hard to get to where she was now. She was no longer the drunkard’s daughter who used to beg at the docks for food to eat. Neither was she the daughter of a whore who sold her body for her next bottle of gin. No, she was Mrs Cornelia Trentham, a respectable woman who held her head up high in society. She may not have married a man with a title, but his fortune had more than made up for it.

  “Or what’s left of it.”

  She shook her head and walked to the kitchen to ensure that the feast for their honoured guests was well underway and nearly complete.

  Maria closed the door behind her slowly, letting her anger come under control before yelling at the beautiful girl that stood before her. No, not a girl, a woman. Madelene had indeed grown into a beautiful woman and ha
d even surpassed her mother. But she didn’t seem as smart as her mother.

  “You will be the death of me, child! You had me in high fidgets waiting for you – what notion was in your head to make you prolong your activity?”

  Madelene removed her gloves, throwing them on her bed. Next was her bonnet, then removing the pins in her hair that held the hairstyle Maria had so carefully created. She shook out her waist-length hair, combing through it with her fingers as she plonked onto her bed.

  “Well?” Maria asked. “I had a devilish time trying to convince your aunt that you were on a simple errand and had not been gone for long. Four hours, Madelene! I daresay you have an affinity for working me up so.”

  “Oh, Maria,” said Madelene. “I do offer up my sincerest apologies for making you worry so, but there was nothing to be done about it.”

  She suddenly jumped off the bed and came towards her, grabbing Maria’s hands in her own.

  “You couldn’t imagine the suffering happening right beneath our noses! How can England boast of its achievements when its people are living such a terrible existence?”

  Maria sighed. Madelene was not yet old enough to understand the ways of the world. Maria had seen horrors in her own country, horrors that remained in her mind and made her grateful to be far away from the War. Madelene’s father had carefully sheltered his daughter, only allowing her to see what he believed necessary. It was merely by chance that she had come across the suffering of men, women, and children in Jamaica during her fifteenth year. She had endeavoured to help them, many a time against her father’s wishes. What would her father say to her latest escapade? He would no doubt blame her and Giles for allowing such a thing to happen. But one did not allow Madelene to partake in any activity; she was a law unto herself.

  “I am well aware of the suffering of the masses, ma cherie, but you cannot help them all. Let their country help them. That fat Prince Regent is sitting on his throne, living lavishly and throwing grand balls that leave little in the way of helping the poor. He should be helping his people, not you.”

  Madelene leaned forward and laid a soft kiss on her cheek.

  “Dear Maria, your cynicism never fails to astound me. Although I am not too fond of England, it is in my blood. So is France, and they are at war. Napoleon seems hell-bent on invading this country, and I fear that it is the working class that are grossly affected by all of this. If I have the means to help them, should I not do so?”

  Her argument was the same, whether they were in South America, the Caribbean or the East Indies. Madelene wanted to help the needy, and Maria could not help loving her for it. She may hold the title of an abigail, but she was closer than that. She was like a mother to Madelene, caring for her from her infant years. No one else knew her as she did.

  “I understand, child, but sometimes you do too much. You are but nineteen going on twenty, a young girl with her whole life before her. Will you not consider finding a suitor rather than keep your interests with the poor?”

  Her question was hopeful, but Maria already knew what the answer would be. The young girl laughed, a tinkling sound that reminded her of streams of moving water. It washed over you, bringing forth a begrudging smile. However, today she could not bring herself to smile, for there was a more significant matter to discuss.

  “A suitor? The men of this country leave much to be desired. I would lief marry a seaman than a weak-chinned Englishman. I find them terribly odious.”

  Maria’s thoughts travelled to the letter that she had hidden away in her apron pockets and gripped Madelene’s hands with a strength that surprised the young woman.

  “Maria?”

  “Oh, child. I fear that tying yourself to one of these men may be the only means of securing your safety.”

  Alarm widened Madelene’s eyes. “My safety? What could be safer than being tucked away in the countryside? Maria, do not fret so. I’m perfectly safe, unhappy and bored, but safe.”

  Maria looked heavenward, shaking her head before releasing Madelene’s hands and reaching into her pocket.

  “This came for you – I managed to sneak it in before your aunt caught sight of it. It’s from your father.”

  She handed the letter to Madelene, who eagerly took it.

  “My father? This is a felicitous moment, Maria. Why have you scrunched your face in that manner?”

  “Read it,” Maria said and took a seat on a stool.

  Let Madelene read of her father’s news for herself.

  Madelene frowned at Maria, quizzical about her strange manner. She opened the letter, thoroughly pleased to have received another letter from her father. She was anxious to hear of his health, their journeys, and word of her many friends. As she read the letter, her face fell. This letter did not bring good news; in fact, it spoke of an imminent threat.

  “Why has Lord Allandale set his eyes upon me? What have I done to encourage a tendre from him?”

  She travelled back into her memories, trying to discover the exact moment that may have turned the Viscount from the role of a friendly acquaintance to one who saw her in the role of his wife.

  “Do you see, ma cherie?” Maria said. “Your safety is at peril. Your father sent you here with the purpose of protecting you from men such as the Viscount of Carlisle. But it seems that he is more determined than we could have imagined.”

  Madelene was shocked to her core. Would the Viscount be able to force her into marriage? Every fibre of her being rejected the thought, shuddering with revulsion.

  “I could never marry a man such as Lord Allandale!” she cried. “Why, the very thought turns my insides.”

  Maria stood up and led her to her bed, sitting down next to her. She gently took the letter from Madelene’s whitened grip.

  “We cannot stop him from coming to England, but we can prevent him from giving an offer for your hand. There is no telling what your uncle will do – he is your guardian and charged with your well-being. He is also a man with a gaming problem and could take the wrong path if the Viscount flashes a considerable amount of money.”

  Madelene knew that only too well. Uncle Harry’s gambling was well-known by many, and that included his losses. There was no telling what a gambler would do when offered a sizeable bribe for her hand. Fear crept into her, making an already stressful situation markedly worse.

  “What can we do, Maria? What hope is there for me to escape his clutches?”

  Maria’s answer was simple and yet challenging to absorb.

  “Marriage, child. He cannot scheme if you are already taken.”

  “Marriage? Your solution is marriage? And who would I marry, pray, tell me.”

  Her maid fixed her with a hard stare. “Numerous men have shown their interest, but you have continued to turn them down. Pick one of them.”

  But Madelene’s mind rebelled against that notion. She would marry for love, and only for love. She wanted the love that she knew was shared between her parents, and she knew that her father wanted the same.

  “But I do not love any of them!”

  Maria reached up and tucked a wayward curl behind her ear, her expression soft.

  “Love will eventually come, ma cherie, but for now you must marry. I would not forgive myself if anything were to happen to you.” She cupped Madelene’s cheek. “You are the daughter that I never had.”

  Madelene leaned into Maria’s callused hand, seeking comfort from the woman who had helped raise her to become the young woman she was. Maria’s voice was thick with emotion, her concern for her shining in her loving eyes.

  “I know, Maria. But must the solution be marriage? Surely there is another path for me to take.”

  Maria’s hand fell away, and she shrugged, bowing her head in distress.

  “What other solution can there be? You are a woman living in a man’s world, child. There are not too many paths available to you – you must understand this.”