Dare to Love a Lord: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Abigail Agar

She saw how he looked at Reginald and she began to wonder what it was that the two of them were hiding. It was quite clear that they had a scheme.

  Once they were out amidst the blooms, Emma took in the sent and considered the fact that all of this was now hers.

  It was strange to suddenly be wealthy. At times she did not even want it. But there were times like this, when she was able to enjoy the smell of the roses and the sight of the daisies, that she was happy.

  Emma saw that Reginald was drawing near to Amelia.

  “Oh, goodness. Is it happening?” Emma asked Eric, trying to be quiet enough that she did not ruin the beautiful moment.

  “Hush. Just watch and listen,” he said to her, smiling the whole time.

  “My dearest Amelia Lockhart, you are a woman that I could never have anticipated to enter my life. Your joy, your beauty, your delight, and certainly your strength all know no bounds. You have been through the most difficult of things and yet you still see the possibility of a hopeful future,” Reginald began.

  Emma was thrilled and it took all of her self-control not to burst out in joyous excitement and scream for Amelia to accept the proposal that had not yet been formally made.

  “You are the bright sun in a bright sky and no one else compares to you,” Reginald said.

  Eric leaned in and whispered in Emma’s ear.

  “On that point, he is incorrect. I find that you shine far brighter than my sister, but I should ask that you do not tell her. She might be very angry with me,” he said, making a face filled with mock fear that Emma had to struggle not to laugh at.

  “From the day that I first saw you, I was astounded by your beauty. It shocked me as you look so much like my dear friend, who is rather unattractive,” Reginald said, not looking at Eric as he made the joke that insulted him.

  But Eric appeared not to mind, and Emma grinned, thinking her husband rather dashing.

  “But even as you terrified me with your boldness, you intrigued me with your character and I found that I could not cease to think of you day in and day out. But I was slow and it took time before I was finally ready and felt that I knew you enough to make this decision,” he said.

  Amelia’s face was beaming as she waited for the question that she clearly wanted to hear more than anything.

  “Miss Amelia Lockhart of Finchley, my love, will you be my wife?” Reginald asked.

  Amelia was a striking image against the backdrop of roses and sunflowers. She really did look rather bright and Emma thought that she might cry with all of the excitement for her friend.

  “Yes. Yes, I will marry you. I will happily marry you,” Amelia replied, her voice choked with happiness.

  “Truly?” Reginald asked, as if not believing her words even as she nodded with enthusiasm.

  “Yes, I will marry you! I will marry you today if you wish and I shall marry you every day hereafter,” Amelia said, laughing as Reginald turned and plucked a flower, which he then handed to her.

  And with that, Eric and Emma exclaimed their joy and rushed to their friends. Emma threw her arms around Amelia’s neck and held her in a joyous embrace. Her dearest friend was marrying the dearest friend of her husband. Amelia was finally being given the chance of happiness.

  “My mother will be terrified, but I think she will be happy. Although she hates men with great fortunes, she does like you a great deal,” Amelia said, laughing.

  “Well, at least she is a fan of me. I do not know what I would do if she hated me,” Reginald said.

  “You would marry me anyway because you know that we are meant to spend our lives with one another,” Amelia said.

  “Yes, I am rather confident of that,” Reginald said.

  Emma looked at Eric and then back at Amelia, who was still bubbling over with her excitement and delight.

  And there it was. The one thing that Emma thought could bring her a final sense of happiness. Her friend, at last, would be happy as well.

  THE END

  Can't get enough of Emma and Eric? Then make sure to check out the Extended Epilogue to find out…

  Why would Emma be lying to Eric about their new home in London?

  How will Eric’s mother and Liza finally manage to work things out?

  How will the happy couple manage to stay in love after all these years of marriage?

  Click the link or enter it into your browser

  http://abigailagar.com/emma

  (After reading the Extended Epilogue, turn the page to read the first chapters from “A Grand Season to Remember”, my Amazon Best-Selling novel!)

  A Grand Season to Remember

  Introduction

  After a disastrous London Season that left her with a broken heart, Annis decided to retreat to the countryside, leaving all her painful memories behind. When two years later, though, she is forced to accompany her younger sister to her first Season, hurtful memories and fears that she has been trying to repress, will begin to resurface. As if her life was not already a tragedy in the making, the very man who broke her heart appears out of nowhere, once again turning her life upside down. Will Annis be able to heal the wounds of her past and give love a second chance, or will she never be able to trust a man again?

  All these years Oliver could not take his mind off of Annis, even though she ran away from him without any explanation. The fateful moment he meets her again, he knows deep inside that she is the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with, and decides to do whatever it takes to win her back. Will he ever find the reason why Annis abandoned him and threw the opportunity of a happy life by his side? How far will he go to convince her that his life has no meaning if she is not in it?

  When a third person tries to put obstacles in their path, Annis and Oliver must prove that nothing can keep them apart. Even though their love is still alive, rife misunderstandings still prevent them from leaving the bad memories behind and start a new chapter in their life. Will their love be strong enough to survive it all, or the events of the past will never stop haunting them?

  Chapter 1

  Annis reached for a pastry, hoping that it would be cherry filling. Their cook had had a field day this morning, and had baked up a storm. Most of the pastries featured different fruit fillings, and now it was anyone’s guess which filling they would get as their cook had not bothered to give different markings for each flavour.

  Cook has probably had another quarrel with her beaux, and now this is the result of that. Annis had come to understand that whenever there was too much of a certain thing, it meant that their cook had had a lover’s spat.

  She stared at the pastry thoughtfully, wondering if she had picked up the right one. I have already had plum and apple. I do hope this is cherry. Her cupid-bowed lips closed over the flaky pastry, delicately biting one corner of the confectionery. Pulling back, she dabbed at her mouth as she waited for what would eventually ooze out of the crumbly casing like slow-moving magma.

  “Annis!” her mother scolded. “Do you mean to bite into all the pastries until you find the one you are looking for?”

  Annis grimaced when a blackberry filling erupted from the hole she had made. Wrong again!

  “Mother, I cannot help it if Cook did not specify which pastries have which filling. I have no desire to eat any more apple, pear, plum, and now blackberry. ‘Tis as though she is using up all the fruit preserves of the previous year.”

  Besides, I would much rather spend my time sorting through pastries than listening to your yawn-worthy conversation with Lucilla. Of course, she did not say this to her mother, or she might have earned herself a harsh reprimand or perhaps a steely glare sharp enough to have her wither away in the chair she was perched upon.

  “Oh, Annis,” her mother sighed. “If you insist on filling your mouth with pastries, then you might grow as round as your cousin Constance.”

  Her mother and sister both chuckled at the thought, leaving Annis bristling with indignation. She rather liked her cousin and did not take lightly to p
eople finding amusement at her expense.

  “Cousin Constance is perfectly plump, and if she were such an object of ridicule, then the Duke of Waldorf would not be pursuing her.”

  Her mother and sister’s laughter abruptly died, their lips thinning into a perfectly straight line. Considering the fact that they were a family of women with generous lips, it was an impressive feat in her eyes. She bit the inside of her cheek, focusing on the blackberry filling. ‘Tis not entirely undesirable, unlike the dagger-like stares pointed at me.

  She gave an unladylike lick of the oozing contents, tapping her palette with the tip of her tongue. I rather like the tartness, but I am certain that my mouth shall bear its colour. Surprised that they were still quiet, Annis gave her sister and mother a side glance, almost smiling at their pinched faces.

  “Annis, the Duke is near twice her age,” Lucilla declared with all the confidence of a woman about to win an argument. However, her sister’s attempt at a debate was no match for Annis’ prowess in winning every argument presented to her.

  “Dear Lucilla, His Grace is a man in his prime, one whom many young women have pursued. A dashingly handsome man who is as rich as Croesus and utterly devoted to making Constance his beloved wife – need I go on? I would say that she has done very well for herself. Very well. I daresay that not many women can boast such an achievement, yes? After all, the goal of all eligible women is to marry a wealthy man, and if he be handsome, then you are fortunate indeed. Need I remind you that Cousin Constance has captured a Duke’s heart, and she has not yet had a Season?”

  She let this sink in, taking a larger bite of her blackberry pastry, followed by a generous sip of milky tea.

  “Well,” her mother started. “Considering that her father hasn’t a dowry for her, and neither a penny to afford her a Season, I would say that she is fortunate indeed. Let us hope that the Duke’s obsession is not a case of wanton behaviour on her part.”

  “Mother!” Annis gasped.

  Her mother only raised her eyebrows. “Do not pretend that you did not think the same thing, Annis.”

  “No! I have not considered such a beastly thing of our Constance. She is painfully shy and can hardly string two sentences together when in the company of strangers. And, pray, tell me, when did this conversation become about Constance’s character? If I did not know any better, I would think you jealous of her, Mother.”

  “Jealous?” her mother choked. “Certainly not! Goodness me! Next, you will say that I wish to look like that dumpling of a girl.”

  Lucilla giggled behind her hand, her eyes alight with mirth. “Mama, you are rounder in the middle than you used to be. Any more of Cook’s pastries and you just might join the ranks of the Pudgy Platoon!”

  The Pudgy Platoon was a collective name for any woman of their social circle who had passed the point of pleasant plumpness and entered the realm of the grossly overweight. This included anyone from the debutantes to those getting on in years. Lucilla and their mother had thought it amusing to create such a group for those unfortunate enough to fall into the category.

  Since its conception, a few other women had been added to the rank of administration, adding names to the Platoon whenever it suited them. It rankled Annis to know that people were looking to find humour at the expense of others, behaving as though they were far superior to their rounder counterparts. She knew how it felt to be in a position of ridicule, but it had not been due to her dress size. No, it had been something with far more dire consequences.

  At her youngest daughter’s comment, Annis’ mother put down the pastry she had been nibbling on and proceeded to suck in her belly while she lounged on a chaise lounge.

  “I resent that comment, Lucilla. I am simply a bit bloated, and a quick herbal concoction should remedy this bulge overnight.”

  The two women continued to discuss the perfect remedies for certain ailments, particularly of the beauty sort. Annis shook her head, taking care not to make it too obvious. What a pair her mother and sister made! She loved them dearly, but their antics and mumble jumble were enough to drive any sane man up the wall.

  Annis observed how her sister eyed the pastries, seeing how desperately she wanted one. Instead of reaching for one, Lucilla pulled at the manipulated curls framing her face, tucking some back into the piled hair atop her head. I applaud her willpower; I certainly would not have been able to deny myself the joy of eating a pastry.

  “Well, Mama, I have kept away from these confectioneries for the specific reason of looking perfect for my Season début,” said Lucilla. “I must fit into the dresses I mean to wear for the balls, garden parties, horse-riding parties, walks in the park, and whatever other events I shall be so fortunate to be invited to! I cannot afford to mar my form for a few sweet treats.”

  “Wonderful,” Annis muttered. “The more for me.”

  She refilled her teacup before settling back into her chair, wondering if it would be rude to take out the book she was hiding behind the scatter cushion and read while they discussed the upcoming London Season. The two women had discussed nothing else for several months, each talking a single subject to death. And I have been the unfortunate hearer of it all.

  “Right you are, Lucilla,” her mother commented. “Your father has paid a fair sum of money to have Miss Frampton make your dresses, and in record timing as well.”

  If not for the many changes to the dresses, there would have been no sudden scramble to complete them in an unreasonable period. Her sister had changed her mind a dozen times, swapping colours, choosing different embellishments, picking one material over another. Annis was just glad that the dresses were nearly done, and she would not need to go for her sister’s final fitting as she had promised Constance a walk through the field to speak of her growing affection for the Duke.

  “I am terribly excited, Mama!” Lucilla exclaimed. “Soon, we shall be in London, rubbing shoulders with the elite of London society. I wish to be the talk of the town, the one that every girl wishes they were. I am certain that I shall find the perfect suitor and be married well before the Season is over.”

  “That is the right attitude to have, my dear,” their mother commented, reaching for another pastry. “Find me the perfect son-in-law, preferably one with a title, or at least a good family with enough wealth to make up for their lack of a title.”

  As they continued to speak about what constituted the perfect suitor, Annis could not help remembering her own Season. She had been just as excited about her début, finding joy in receiving invitations to many balls, horse riding parties, lunches at grand houses, as well as the lavish dinners hosted by prominent members of London society. As one of the few who had become the ton’s favourite, she had been the woman that most mamas had decided would be fortunate enough to find a suitor and be courted early on in the Season. They had not been wrong, but how I wish they had been.

  A well-chiselled face swam up to her current recollections, bringing her mood down several notches. No, I shall not think of him! He is my past, and there he shall stay. She forcefully pushed the handsome man’s face away, hating that he could invoke such strong feelings within her, emotions that were better left buried. I do not want to be reminded of this old heartbreak. I am far wiser and older than I used to be; he no longer has the right to enter my mind. As the memory wrestled for her attention, Annis used every effort within her to focus on her sister and mother’s conversation, going so far as to lean towards them. Just as well she did, or she might not have heard her mother’s devastating statement.

  “Of course, Annis shall accompany you as your escort. She has attended a Season once before and knows the ins and outs of protocol, propriety, and such, and can introduce you to those that shall help you make a grand impression on the ton.”

  Had her mother lost her mind? Accompany Lucilla? Terror descended upon Annis, circling in her belly like a hot rock. Oh, no, no, no! This cannot be! Had her mother already forgotten what had happened during that fateful Season?
<
br />