The Beauty and the Earl: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Hamilton, Hanna

  “You are awful, Lady Lucille!” Lady Bernadette shrieked delightedly.

  “Perhaps he kept her in such secrecy because he knew she ate like a prize sow,” Lady Lucille continued, at Susana’s expense. The three ladies erupted into raucous laughter, making Susana’s freckled cheeks burn.

  The coming-out party of the mysterious ward was one of the most-anticipated events of the season. Everyone who was anyone was in attendance to meet Susana, to speak to her, of course, and cast their aspersions. The mothers and fathers wanted to see whether she was marriageable, whether she would do credit to the Nielsen name, and whether she could navigate the turbulent waters of London society as deftly as did the Duke of Bainton and his younger brother.

  The daughters of the ton, however, wished to look upon their new rival and measure themselves against her. Meanwhile, the sons were keen to catch a glimpse of the enigma, to see if she was fair enough and charming enough to engage in a dance.

  “There is a peculiar beauty about her,” Lord Exford said to his acquaintance, Captain Jeffers.

  “It is a shame about her freckles, for I imagine she would have a smooth complexion if it were not for them,” Lord Exford replied.

  “Will you engage her in a dance?”

  Lord Exford shrugged. “Perhaps. I shall see how I feel after one or two more snifters of brandy. I may be able to look beyond the Celtic demeanor of her after that.”

  For her own part, Susana did not care so much about how she was received, but more about doing credit to her guardian, the Duke. The Duke had taken her in as a small child and had been very generous in rearing her as one of their own family. He was not loving or kind, but, as the Nielsens had no girls of their own that generation, seemed to feel she could be an asset to the family by marrying advantageously, as the Duke was quite socially ambitious.

  Consequently, he had taken pains to mold her into a genteel young lady who would be attractive to the aristocracy, perhaps even to someone of the royal peerage—for the Duke of Bainton was not a royal duke, though wealthy and powerful in his own right. Though his treatment of her had been harsh at times, she wanted to thank him for all his generosity by coming out graciously, and by being an asset to the Nielsen family, rather than a liability, as a ward was often assumed to be.

  So it was that Susana suffered that night in late March, scarcely able to breathe for the overwhelming press of bodies in the ballroom in Pall Mall, clutching at her ice with pristine white silk gloves on her hands. She feared the syrup might stain them, but she could not set it down now.

  An elderly woman dressed in lavish mourning black was talking to her, the words washing over Susana in waves. She could scarcely focus on what was being said, and, it hardly seemed to matter. The less that she said to these people, it seemed, the more charmed they were by her.

  “What do you make of this season’s fashions? Do you agree with my sentiments regarding ribbons?” The elderly woman stared at her expectantly, a fan bobbing in front of her pruny old face.

  “Um… yes, I quite agree.” She did not know what she was agreeing to, for she had not been listening. But it seemed to please the elderly lady well enough.

  “A lady’s figure should be kept discreetly covered.” The elderly lady nodded, arching an eyebrow as she looked upon the daring cut of Susana’s neckline.

  “Hmm? Oh, yes, of course,” Susana replied, lowering her spoon to take up another mouthful of ice. It tapped the glass bottom with a tinkle that sounded as if she wished to make a speech. The ice was gone. She looked down at the empty vessel in horror. “Excuse me, Lady… Linnet, I must attend on an urgent matter.” She was struggling to remember all these names.

  “As you prefer,” Lady Linnet replied, pursing her wrinkled lips.

  Grateful to be excused from the lady's presence, she slipped away between the bodies to find another ice. Otherwise, she was certain to faint.

  As she went, weaving between gentlemen in military dress—friends of the Duke's, no doubt—someone grabbed her arm. A vile rebuke rose up in Susana's throat, for she had accepted that she might be treated like property in certain ways by certain people, but she would be damned if she would let a person's rank permit them to violate her person in any way—whether it was a grab of the arm, or anything else.

  She whirled, her cheeks puffed up in righteous indignation, her immaculately groomed brows drawn down over flashing green eyes, but the words died in her throat when she met the smiling face of William Nielsen, the Duke's younger brother, and the person dearest in the world to her heart.

  “William!” she cried, shoving past someone to throw her arms around him. “Oh, my dear brother, how I've missed you!”

  “You did not think I would miss your coming-out party?” William grinned, and took a step back. “Let me look at you, little Susie. Why, if I am not mistaken, you look half a lady!”

  “Only half?” she said, feigning a pout. “I let your brother do all sorts of horrible things to me, so that I would look fully a lady.”

  “With a face like this,” said William, touching her cheek, “you may wear whatever dress you like, but you shall always be a little chickadee.”

  “And you! You have become quite the gentleman!” said Susana, surveying him from crown to toe. A strange feeling came over her as she scrutinized William's person. He had been away for some months at sea, a member of the Royal Navy as all the Nielsen men were, and had obliged her by coming to the party dressed like a proper military gentleman.

  His coat was deep blue, with gold braiding intricately stitched all over, which set off the golden, sun-kissed highlights in his lovely mahogany-colored hair. The blue of his coat made his chocolate-colored eyes look almost black. He had grown leaner and stronger since she last saw him, and something about the look in his eyes made it seem as though he had lost his juvenile mischief.

  Indeed, Lord William Nielsen had become a true gentleman, and the shine of his black military boots told her so.

  “I have done my best not to grow up quite so much,” said William, offering her his arm. “But six months on a battleship... it does affect a man, whether he wants it to or not.”

  “Oh, Will, was it very awful?” Susana said, slipping her hand about his arm. William had always been hearty and much larger than she, but Susana could not help noticing that his arm was bigger than before, and much harder. Like an arm of stone. Her heart fluttered in an alarming way, and she gave Will's bicep a discreet squeeze.

  “Yes,” he said simply, looking distant for a moment. Then, he seemed to come back to himself, and gave his head a shake. “But, Susie-chickadee, let us not talk of such things. Tonight is a celebration of you, and your entry as a member of polite society!”

  “I am not sure how polite they are,” Susana muttered, hoping that Will was the only one who heard. She could not forget their secretive taunts. “But, it is quite a celebration. For such a solemn man, your brother has quite the talent for organizing social gatherings.”

  “Indeed he does,” said Will. “Where is old Richard, by the way?”

  “Much to his regret, he could not attend.” Susana frowned a little. “His health has been troubling him this winter, far worse than usual. He is ill in bed with a terrible cough.”

  “Poor bastard,” William said under his breath.

  “Will!” Susana laughed, aghast. “Such a thing to say of your own brother!”

  The handsome young sailor only shrugged, letting Susana lead him to the refreshments, where she chose another glass of ice. Several pairs of eyes flickered at her in disapproval, and Susana keenly felt their gaze.

  “This is my third cup,” she confessed to William in a low voice. “But I fear if I stop eating it, I shall faint. It is so unbearably hot in here!”

  “You must realize that the ice is spiked with cordial?” Will snickered. “Not only will they think you a glutton, but a drunk as well!”

  “But I cannot even taste it! Are you sure?” Now that he mentioned it, Susana did feel
a trifle merry.

  But she hardly had time to worry about it, for at that moment, a string quartet had assembled at the far end of the ballroom and were plucking and tuning their instruments in preparation for the first dances of the night. Mutters of excitement rippled throughout the crowd, and Susana hurried to finish her ice, for she knew she would be expected to dance, and dance, and dance.

  All of London's most eligible bachelors were in attendance—as well as many of London's less-eligible bachelors who had, somehow or other, incurred an invitation either by relation or by default.

  “Come, give me your first dance!” William said, leading her to the dance floor.

  Susana had promised her first dance to half a dozen different gentlemen, not at all considering the logistical implications. Her chaperone, an easily distracted young woman by the name of Emilia, had vanished almost as soon as she had made her entrance into the party, leaving her to contend with all of this by herself.

  Where can she have disappeared to? She scoured the crowd, just in case she happened to spot Emilia, but the woman could still not be found. Very well, then I shall have to manage alone. Besides, now she had William to aid her.

  Overwhelmed by the number of people and the press of conversations, she had found herself inundated. Presently, however, she forgot about all of them, as she smiled and nodded and let William lead her to the floor, handily ignoring the other gentlemen who had begun to stalk her, to claim their dance.

  While it might have been said that Miss Alvin was lacking in some of the finer social graces, everyone in attendance that night was forced to admit that she was a formidable dancer. Once the music began, the lovely young girl with the fiery red hair and awkward country charm, transformed into a whirling bluebird of enviable grace and skill.

  The first few hours had been painful and awkward and had left a poor impression on the general public regarding Susana’s suitableness as a prospective wife and member of the London elite. But now, every young gentleman to take her hand in the opening reel found himself bewitched by her impish smile, her quick little feet, and her apparent ability to execute every dance with utmost precision and attention to detail.

  Susana had danced at smaller functions before, but this was her first time truly dancing in such a grand public arena. She drank in the admiration like the parched earth sipped in a summer rainstorm. Moreover, she knew this fresh admiration would please the Duke of Bainton immensely, which was all she desired in order to call the evening a success.

  Between the cordial, the dancing, and the complimentary glances that settled upon her, a potent sort of magic came over the young lady, wherein nothing could go wrong at all.

  Until the first set of dances ended, and they were all called to dinner.

  Oh goodness… The very moment she stopped dancing, the heat of the room reasserted itself. Susana felt her knees start to quiver, but before she could seek out a cold drink or some fresh air, she was beset by half a dozen young gentlemen. Some of them were sincerely offended by her forgetting to give them the first dance, while others only wanted to play at being offended, to give them the pretext to talk to her.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen… I really must—” She struggled to draw breath as a cold clamminess crawled up her spine.

  They ignored her words, a press of them cornering her, led by one Mr. Bradley Payne, a talkative man of means with no breeding whatsoever, who tracked Susana with eyes like a hawk.

  “My, my, Miss Alvin, you are slippery this evening!” said Mr. Payne. “You promised your first dance to me, but before I could find you, you went off with Lord William!”

  “Well, I… I…” Susana hesitated, as she tried to find an answer, but the men were not there to listen to what she had to say for herself. They enjoyed the sound of their own voices far too much.

  “And before Payne even arrived at the party, you had promised the first dance to me!” cried another of the young men, though she could not remember his name.

  They began to clamor amongst themselves, huffing and puffing and showing off in front of the pretty girl. And Susana, who truly felt as if she would faint if she stayed in the room another moment, took advantage of their inattentiveness. She slid along the wall, and crept away below eye-level, resurfacing near the stairwell, where she paused for air, gripping the banister for support.

  “Are you well, dear Susie?” William had reappeared at her side and proffered her another cherry ice.

  “Oh, Will, you are a treasure!” she sighed, taking the glass from him gratefully. “Always looking out for me. Why, I should be lost without you.”

  “That you would,” he agreed, grinning at her. “You dance so well... I had almost forgotten how good you are.”

  “And you, in your military boots, dance like an elephant!” Susana teased, grinning back at him. “I don't suppose your sea legs are very good at the reel anymore?”

  “No, it shall be a while before I am re-accustomed to walking on dry land,” Will admitted. “I am sorry to have disappointed you on your special night.”

  “I never said you disappointed me, dear Will, and even if you had—I could forgive you anything but murder for bringing me this ice!” Susana sighed, and tipped a spoonful of the sweet and invigorating ice between her lips.

  “Come to dinner, you silly chickadee,” said William, offering Susana his arm. “You had best not have any wine, or you will be well and truly inebriated before the first course is cleared. Richard will already have quite a lecture prepared when hears that you snubbed half a dozen men for the first dance—”

  “And that I ate too many ices, addressed a duchess as countess, that I laughed out loud multiple times, and that I danced with you twice as much as any of these other wolves,” said the girl, enumerating on her fingers each of her sins. “Surely there are others, but I cannot yet think of them. Offending people happens all too easily, and often by accident, I fear.”

  “So long as you are doing your earnest best, no one can blame you for anything,” said Will. “Well, Richard might, but Heaven knows I shan't. Your flaws are among your best qualities, in my opinion.”

  Susana looked sharply up at William, trying to discern whether he was teasing her. But he looked at the ground, his lips settled in a soft half-smile, and he seemed so very genuine about his comment that Susana nearly wanted to cry.

  “And... what flaws might those be?” she prodded, for William's opinion meant more to her than the word of God Himself.

  William opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the final dinner bell, and the sudden press of the crowd all heading for the dining-hall.

  Susana and her companion were swept up in the tide of humanity, and Susana stumbled a little, clutching precariously at her life-preserving ice. As they walked, she turned to William again, eager to revisit the thread of their conversation, preferably in this more intimate moment between them, rather than at the dinner table, where they should be under intense scrutiny by the assembled.

  She clutched at his arm and tried to re-pose her question, but someone in front of her stopped short, and with just two steps, Susana stumbled into them, and upset her ice all over the front of her frock, her bosom, and her face.

  She uttered an involuntary cry of surprise, which, of course, drew everyone's attention. And there she stood, with red droplets sticking to her lashes, and the sweetened ice chips decorating the entirety of her décolletage.

  Her dress bore a fantastic, pinkish-red stain from breast to navel, and her gloves looked like they had been worn to butcher a few strawberries. Most comical of all, though, was the way her chest held the bulk of the ice, as if it had been transferred to a second vessel, rather than spilled.

  A moment of silence passed, so tense it made Susana's head ache, and she could not move. Not even William knew what to do, or say, until suddenly, someone laughed.

  At first, it was just a nervous titter from somewhere on her right side, followed by someone else who issued a loud guffaw. Susana laughed n
ervously, but the crowd around her had begun to point, to stare, to jeer, to cackle, with the women hiding their mouths behind their hands and fans, and the men shaking their heads and holding their bellies. It was then that the magic wore off Susana, and she realized that she had made a complete fool of herself. These people were laughing at her, not with her.

  In private, she could have laughed off the accident; but in that moment, her clumsiness on display for all the world to see, Susana felt like a prize donkey. Her cheeks burned even redder than the cordial spilled down the front of her dress. Tears pricked her eyes with the mocking laughter and a rising chorus of ridicule and derogatory remarks.

  “A most improbable person, indeed.”

  “Why, they never should have let that country mouse out of her room!”

  “A regular blowsabella!”

  “What was the Duke thinking, bringing that to London?”

  “Disgraceful!”

  In reality, it all happened in the space of a minute or so, but to Susana, it felt like a lifetime. At last, she found her wits, and, without wondering what the proper response would be, she turned round and shoved her way to the stairwell. Taking the stairs two at a time, and tripping once, she skinned her bare arms on the carpet. The stumble compounded her embarrassment and shame tenfold, until she finally was out in the street.

  Humiliated and disoriented, she bypassed the carriage entirely, not wanting the footman to see her in this condition. William’s voice called out behind her, but she paid it no heed. She could not. Instead, she ran as fast as her legs would carry her, until she reached the Duke of Bainton’s house. There, she flung herself inside, and collapsed in the foyer, bawling into her ruined gloves until the housekeeper came to investigate the commotion and sent her to bed.

  Chapter 2

  The Duke of Bainton was young, comparatively speaking. Ten years William's senior, the Duke was only eight-and-thirty. Yet, because of his life’s tribulations, the Duke was long past his prime.