Regency Hearts Boxed Set

by Jennifer Monroe

  More people cheered this time, and Marianne could not have felt prouder than she did at that moment. Soon, the people began to disperse, and the butcher and his wife approached William.

  “Your Grace,” the man said, giving William a bow, “your words have meant a lot to us. You’ve no idea how wonderful it is to know that we can speak to you without fear of repercussions.”

  “We are both businessmen,” William said. “That, among other things, is what we have in common. Oh, and by the way, I will be by later to select a portion of lamb.”

  The man gave another low bow. “Most certainly, Sir. I’ll make sure to save the best for you.”

  Marianne and William resumed their stroll down the path. “Do you feel better?” she asked, although she already knew the answer by how he held himself.

  “I do,” came his reply. “It is much better to be a Duke of kindness rather than one who is arrogant.” He patted the hand that lay in his arm. “Thank you for showing me that.”

  “I showed you only what was already inside you,” she said with a smile. “For the man I love is strong and kind. Although he asks me to break so many rules, I am beginning to wonder what will become of me.”

  He laughed. “We may both end up working at that pub,” he said.

  As they came to the far end of the village where the new buildings were nearly completed, Marianne’s heart leapt into her throat when she saw the Dowager Duchess of Durryham approaching.

  “Sofia,” William said in greeting, “I am glad to see you.” The Dowager Duchess frowned but did not respond. “I have something I wish to share.”

  “And what would that be?” she asked in a cold voice.

  “I will no longer be needing your help in the construction of the new shops,” he said.

  The woman’s jaw fell open. “You cannot do that!” she shouted. “I will tell everyone what I know about you if you do!”

  William snorted. “What? That I am a man of poor upbringing? That I worked as a servant? Please let them know, for I am no longer ashamed of where I come from.”

  Marianne smiled as the woman stared at him, the look of defeat clear on her face. She sputtered and spat but appeared unable to put two words together, her shock was so great, and soon she was striding away from them, her lips so thin they nearly disappeared.

  The men who worked on the new buildings did not seem to notice, and Marianne stood beside William as he watched the men work. “The village is growing,” he said. “New people will come from far away and set up shops and attend parties. I only hope they have what I have.”

  Marianne gazed up at him and asked, “And what is that?”

  He turned to her and put his fingers on her chin. “Love. For that is all that truly matters in life.”

  Marianne could not agree with him more.

  ***

  It had been two months since Marianne had gone to the pub to find William, and to her delight, he continued to make great strides. Not only did he reenlist Mr. Ludlow as his adviser, but he also set aside time to speak with the shopkeepers and had made severed business dealings whole again. However, it was many other things, such as the stars he gave her or the rose he took from the rose bush in the gardens that had her heart soaring.

  “It will not be much longer before they go away for some time,” William said as he turned and handed her the perfect bloom.

  Smiling, Marianne took the flower from him and inhaled its sweet fragrance. “Your gift is beautiful,” she said. “I will cherish it, just as I do all the others you have given me.”

  He took her hands in his own. “There is a gift you gave me that is far greater,” he said. “The love we share, it is something I cannot express in any but this one way. You must understand that, in the years ahead, I imagine a life of happiness.”

  “As do I,” Marianne replied, blinking back the mist of tears that filled her eyes.

  “My happiness is with you, and that is why I ask you to be my wife.”

  Marianne did not hesitate before throwing her arms around his neck. “Of course I will marry you!” she said, and he picked her up into his arms and spun her around, just as heroes did in the novels.

  Around them, the birds sang, the sun shone brightly above them, and Marianne felt happiness course through her like she had never felt before. Turning, she glanced at her mother, who sat on a nearby bench, her nose buried in a book, although her smile was clear.

  “Shall we go tell them?” Marianne asked.

  William nodded and arm in arm, they told her mother, and then later her father, of their impending marriage. Both, of course, were beside themselves with gladness, her mother relating the ideas Marianne suspected she had planned since William first came into Marianne’s life.

  Later, as Marianne prepared for bed, she smiled as she looked at the old clothes she had worn to the pub that she kept hidden in the bottom of her wardrobe. Her love for William was great, and she could not have expressed it in any other way, except to use one single word.

  Love.

  Epilogue

  Snow covered the landscape, gentle flakes falling and collecting on every bush and tree. Inside, however, the roaring fires inside the ballroom warmed the guests who had come to celebrate the engagement of William Hawkins, Duke of Stromhedge, to one Miss Marianne Blithe. Soon, they would be wed, and Marianne would join her love to be by his side as he always was with her.

  Smiling at her father, Marianne let out a laugh as he continued his conversation with two men, no doubt concerning some sort of business arrangement. Mr. Sharp stood beside his fiancée, a lovely woman Marianne had met previously.

  Turning, she waited as Mr. Ludlow came to stand beside her, the silver-haired man as loyal to William as he had been in the beginning.

  “His Grace has a guest who refuses to enter,” Mr. Ludlow said with a smile. “Shall I tell him, or would you rather?”

  Marianne followed the man’s gaze and smiled. “I will tell him, Mr. Ludlow. Thank you.”

  She walked over to William, who was speaking to an older gentleman whose name Marianne had already forgotten. “I am telling you, you cannot plant a rose before May,” the older man was arguing.

  Marianne placed a hand on William’s arm to keep him from arguing. “I apologize for interrupting,” she said with a smile, “but His Grace is needed elsewhere, if you do not mind.”

  The older man gave her a bow and a smile. “If it is to be with you, I am certain I can understand.”

  When the man left, William looked down at her. “Who needs me?” he asked.

  “I would guess it is Thomas,” Marianne said, “for Mr. Ludlow says he refuses to join the party. He is waiting for you in the foyer.”

  William nodded and seemed to steel himself for a battle. “I will go speak with him.”

  When Marianne did not move, he asked, “Will you not come with me?” Then he gave her a beseeching look. “Please?”

  “Very well, if you insist.” She spoke in a playful tone.

  They walked into the foyer, and Marianne recognized the man she had invited without informing William.

  “Thomas,” William said with a wide smile. He glanced down at Marianne, very much aware of how the man came to be there, and seeming pleased Marianne had done such a deed for him.

  The older man gave a hesitant bow. “Do you want me to leave?”

  “No,” William replied. “I am sorry for how I treated you before. In the time I needed a true friend, you were there, and yet I pushed you away. For that, I am truly sorry.”

  The man nodded thoughtfully. “Well, that’s fine, then. What do I call you again? Your Grace?”

  William laughed. “My friends call me William, and I consider you a friend.”

  Thomas smiled. “That’s more like it, William.”

  “Thomas, I would like to introduce you to my fiancée Marianne.”

  Thomas took Marianne’s hand and kissed it. “My Lady,” he said. Then his eyes took a mischievous twinkle. “I’ll have
you know that he was the laziest gardener I have ever known.”

  “Is that right?” Marianne said with a giggle.

  “Not really,” Thomas conceded. “He’s always been a good man.” William gave the man a tight hug and Thomas pulled away. “That’s enough of that,” he said as he straightened his coat.

  “Thomas, you have dreamed of having a cottage,” William said.

  The man nodded. “I have.”

  “Well, I have one here on my land with sheep that will need looking after. Would you like to come and live there?”

  Thomas rubbed his chin. “Am I allowed to drink at night?”

  “Of course,” William said with a laugh. “In fact, I would like to join you from time to time just like we used to.”

  The two men reminisced about old times and soon all three headed back into the party. Although many smiled, Marianne could tell they were astonished that a Duke would let such a man into his home—as a guest, that is.

  However, Marianne understood why he did, for friendships were much like love, having no boundaries unless one placed them. It was what made William the handsome, wonderful man he was and the reasons she loved him. No matter what, as long as love guided them, they would make it through any hardships.

  Whether Marianne got her shop or not mattered not to her, for she had found something far more important to her, and she stopped to watch as William introduced Thomas to his new friends. At one point, William had run away, but the Duke had returned, and this man, she knew, would never leave again.

  The Duke of Ravens

  Chapter One

  The crackling of the wood in the fireplace was deafened by the conversation of those attending the party at Blackwood Estates. Caroline Hayward, Duchess of Browning, smiled politely as a couple, whose name she could not recall, walked toward her, laughing at some private joke. They stopped long enough to return her smile with one of their own, presumably genuine, before moving past her toward the table that held various cakes and finger foods.

  She followed them with her eyes, her thoughts filled with wonder. She had often dreamed of possessing joyfulness like those around her, and by all outward appearances, she should be happy. Married to her husband of five years, she now owned the finest of dresses and gowns, expensive jewelry, and had more servants than she would ever need.

  So, why was she not happy? Perhaps it was the fact she had no one in which to confide. So many secrets hid away inside her, words she wished to utter, to let someone know of her pain. However, she could not do such a thing and knew she never would. Not because she lacked the courage to do so, but rather she was afraid of the repercussions that would follow. She was unsure what she feared more; the rumors that were likely to make their rounds or the swift hand of her husband. Reginald was quick to anger, and over the last five years, Caroline had learned to adhere to the old adage that women should be seen and not heard.

  Or was that children? she wondered. It mattered not, for the saying applied to her regardless.

  Smiling at another couple, she raised her wine glass and took a polite sip as she looked over the ornate ballroom. In the far corner played a string quartet, the violin melody threatening to lift her off her feet. Guests were laughing and drinking, clearly pleased with the party. That gratified her; it was the point of these functions, was it not?

  Her eyes fell on her husband across the room, and she frowned. He was engaged in conversation with a woman, Miss Mary French, whose morals were as loose as the tongue of a drunken lout. Watching the two, Caroline felt her heart drop, for she knew all too well that what the Duke wanted, he would get. And judging by his lustful expression, he wanted that woman.

  Letting out a sigh, Caroline took another sip of her wine, pushing out her frustrations about Reginald. Nothing she could say or do would change the man, so why waste time on such worries? Instead, she turned her thoughts to their son, Oliver. The boy had just turned five and was the only light in her otherwise dark world. The time she spent with him she cherished, whether it was reading him a story or allowing the boy to use his exceptional imagination to tell one of his own.

  “Duchess,” a female voice said.

  Caroline turned and smiled at the older woman she knew well. “Lady Barnsfield,” she said as she leaned down to give the tiny Baroness a kiss on the cheek. “Are you enjoying the party?”

  “I most certainly am,” the woman said, her voice a raspy breath. “In fact, I was just telling Harold how your parties are always my favorite. And I must say,” she said as she gave an appreciative smile, “you look absolutely beautiful in that gown.” Lady Barnsfield had always been a kindly soul, and Caroline appreciated the fact the woman had always treated her as a daughter. In most cases, others of the peerage wished only to use her as a means to get to her husband, but not Lady Barnsfield. When she spoke, it was with honesty, and few people appreciated it more than Caroline. More than likely because she did not always have kind words for everyone.

  “I am glad you are enjoying yourself,” Caroline said, honest for the first time that night. “And, as for the gown, I do like it.” She glanced down at the rich blue velvet trimmed with white lace. The neckline emphasized her bosom much more than she would have liked, but Reginald had insisted—no, he ordered—she purchase it the week prior. It would not have been Caroline’s first choice, but she did what she was told and that was that.

  She and Lady Barnsfield continued with their pleasantries, and the conversation turned to Lord Barnsfield and his pitiful snoring. The poor woman clearly starved for company, much like Caroline herself.

  “Oh, there he goes again drinking another brandy,” Lady Barnsfield said, her eyes narrowing. “More than two and his snores will wake the entire household. Forgive me for leaving, but I must go and stop him.”

  Caroline giggled as the woman walked away. Despite the complaints the Baroness gave, she had made it perfectly clear how much love she had for her husband.

  If only I could be as fortunate, she thought.

  She finished the remainder of her wine and set it on a side table for one of the servants to retrieve. Even after five years, leaving to others that which needed to be done felt odd, but what else could she do? If the people had no work, they would have no reason to be employed, thus losing their positions and being without an income. Without an income, people would have no means on which to live, and Caroline could not see that happen to even one of the servants.

  Another glass was thrust into her hand before she knew what was happening, and she turned to face a man who resembled Reginald in so many ways, he could have been his twin despite the difference of twelve years in age. Neil Hayward was nearing fifty, but he had the same deep lines in his face and gray hair on his head as Reginald, making both appear closer to seventy.

  “I thought you could use another,” Neil said with an air of self-assurance.

  Caroline bent her head slightly. “Thank you.” She made a purposeful glance around the room. “Everyone seems happy, do they not?”

  The man gave a nod of agreement, but his eyes remained on her breasts. His ogling made her sick; the only thing lacking in his gaze was drool dripping from the corner of his mouth.

  She stared at the man, finding it difficult to hide her repulsion—he was the brother of her husband, after all. If he had been any other man and she any other woman, even one titled as she was, arguments would arise. However, her husband cared not for how she was treated by anyone, especially his brother.

  “Indeed,” Neil replied to her question. “Many are enjoying themselves immensely; however, some are growing bored like me. Perhaps you can show me to a guest room.”

  His eyebrows rose, and Caroline thought her stomach would empty on the spot. She had no trust for this man, and she certainly would not walk anywhere alone with him, but most especially to a room with a bed.

  She attempted to temper the panic that tried to rise in her as she glanced around the room to find any excuse to deny him. When her gaze returned to h
im, his smile had widened, the lust behind his eyes clear.

  “Would you not like to remain and keep me company for a few moments?” she asked with a smile she could barely form. “I am sure we could alleviate your boredom by joining another group in conversation.”

  His crooked smile did nothing to hide the anger that flashed in his eyes. “Of course, that would be a delight.” He glanced away. “Oh, one moment please.”

  He walked over to speak with a man around her own age of four and twenty. A few moments later, both men returned.

  “Duchess Hayward, may I introduce Mr. Christopher Grandstone, Marquess of Trapton.”

  Lord Grandstone gave her a polite bow. “Your Grace.”

  Caroline nodded her acknowledgment. The man seemed pleasant enough, and Caroline welcomed the distraction for Neil.

  “Grandstone has just graduated from University,” Neil said, “and will be returning to Oxford to lecture on government something or other in Africa.”

  Mr. Grandstone shook his head. “Actually, I will be speaking of the abysmal treatment of orphans in Africa, but I would not wish to bore you with the details.”

  “Not at all,” Caroline replied. Any topic had to be better than anything Neil had to say. Plus, she did find herself interested in the subject matter, even if she knew virtually nothing about Africa or its orphans.

  She breathed a sigh of relief when Neil walked away, and she relaxed. The man made her feel as if her gown had been infested with bedbugs.

  “Orphans in Africa?” she said with interest now that Neil was gone. “What made you decide to speak on such a subject?”

  “I hope to educate a new generation of men about the atrocities of what is happening on that continent, especially in…”