Love in the Moonlight: A Regency Romance All Hallows' Eve Collection: 7 Delightful Regency Romance All Hallows' Eve Stories (Regency Collections Book 6)

by Arietta Richmond

  Mary drew alongside Eveline in that moment and gave her a sharp nudge in the elbow. It was a necessary warning for her to speak less harshly.

  If Mr Byrd was aware of the caustic nature of Eveline’s greeting, he did not show it on his face. He beamed happily, almost dumbly, at her as he ran a hand through his short brown hair.

  “Well, when the sunshine hides itself for days on end, it is hard not to notice it’s return.”

  Eveline had to suppress the urge to laugh at the man’s bumbling attempt at flirtation. Even Mary seemed to be quaking a little as she tried to maintain a neutral expression on her face. Meanwhile, Mr Byrd continued to smile and even let out a forced chuckle of his own. Eveline doubted that he understood that he himself was the joke, but she could not wound him by saying so. Even putting aside matters of etiquette, Joshua Byrd was not a bad man. He suffered from a severe deficiency in personality and mind, but no one could call into question his sincerity and goodness.

  After the man’s forced laugh died off, leaving an awkward void where conversation should be, Mary took it upon herself to help the man along.

  “Do you have some business in the village today, Mr Byrd? I would have thought you would be in the fields checking on the harvest on your father’s land.”

  The man shrugged his shoulders, that seeming to be all the answer he would give on the matter, though his eyes which wandered uncertainly in Eveline’s direction gave a real clue as to his purpose.

  “I… I do not suppose that you ladies find yourself free of obligations? Perhaps you might be persuaded to take a walk around the village?”

  Eveline was about to answer with an emphatic no, but Mary jumped in before her.

  “Oh, that would be delightful Mr Byrd. However, Miss Eveline was just speaking of taking a leisurely stroll along the banks of the river. As we likely will not enjoy good weather for much longer in the year, maybe you can be persuaded to take our stroll in that direction.”

  Mary wound a lock of her blonde hair about her finger and looked up at the man with pleading eyes that glistened as though she might cry if refused. Eveline did not know whether to be impressed or terrified by her friend’s ability to so easily put on masks. Mr Byrd, of course, leapt at the opportunity for a walk and soon Eveline found herself shackled to the man’s arm as they wound their way down the dirt path by the river.

  It was not how she had pictured her day, and as soon as she was given a moment’s escape from his clutches she took the opportunity to hiss a complaint in Mary’s ear.

  “Have I done something to offend you, which you are now choosing to take revenge for, or are you simply enjoying tormenting me?”

  Mary took a breath and blinked prettily, her eyes gazing out over the gently flowing waters of the river. She wound her hand in Eveline’s and patted it gently.

  “Have a little faith my dear. The Earl is sure to be hiding somewhere along this trail and I think that it will be far easier to approach him with Mr Byrd with us. Our intentions will be far less conspicuous then.”

  “Your own intentions you mean,” Eveline complained, struggling to keep her voice at a whisper. “What note is this Earl going to give me with Mr Byrd prancing around my heels like an excited pup?”

  Mary shook her head.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, do you think that I can just present the gentleman to you on a silver platter. I am not some heavenly angel come to grant your wishes. You will just have to make do.”

  “Oh, I say.” Mr Byrd’s voice suddenly caught the attention of both women and their intimate colloquy was drawn to an abrupt end. “I do believe I know that man down river. I was introduced to him the other evening. Terribly well to do man up from London… had a title I think.”

  Mary smirked and Eveline sighed Only Mr Byrd could be so empty headed and forgetful that he could not recall exactly the name and rank of the first truly wealthy man to wander through their village in decades.

  Chapter Three

  Eveline was pleased by the Earl of Darlington before she had even spoken a word to him. Men who appeared handsome from a distance were, more often than she would wish, unusually plain when studied up close. However, as she approached the Earl and his features were thrown into sharper relief, she was pleased to find that his handsomeness actually grew more refined and evident. His focus was elsewhere and he did not seem to notice the party encroaching on him, his gaze seeming caught on a grey heron that stalked the reeds of the far bank.

  The man had a fine head of short black hair. He had put no effort into trying to curl it, as other men did to be fashionable, and this was to his benefit as Eveline often found such haircuts ridiculously pompous. He had a hard outline, the lines of him strong and muscular. His body was slender but to that, he could not be called thin. He sat with his boots and stockings off, his feet submerged in the river. It was hardly a scandalous sight, but Eveline could not help but be impressed by his boldness in conducting himself so freely. She could never imagine Mr Byrd dangling his feet in the river. There was an air of freedom and rebellion to the man, a promise of adventure, not to mention a fierce intelligence, that came from his eyes that trained so singularly on the bird on the far bank.

  As the trio drew up to him and Mr Byrd gave a polite cough, Eveline was disappointed to find that the man was not in the middle of sketching the heron that had caught his eye.

  She had rather hoped to see a little of the man’s art. Instead, laid carelessly in his lap was a small white vegetable which the Earl seemed to be halfway through carving a face into.

  That was a disappointment. Had the new visitor fallen into ready belief of the village’s superstitions of devils and evil spirits? She quietly hoped that he might be carving the piece ironically, or else simply trying to grapple with the local customs out of a simple traveller’s curiosity. The Earl took a deep breath and his back straightened as he heard Mr Byrd cough behind him. He did not immediately turn to face them, but watched the heron on the far bank for a few more moments. Eveline wondered if he was, perhaps, reluctant to have his tranquillity interrupted.

  “Lord Darlington, good morning.”

  Mr Byrd spoke with great enthusiasm. His voice was loud and broke the pleasant quiet. Eveline’s eyes moved to the heron, watching as it began to stalk away into the reeds to escape. Darlington seemed to notice too, Eveline could see his storm cloud grey eyes following the creature until the last moment.

  “Mr Byrd, a pleasure.”

  There was no discernible animosity in his voice, but Eveline felt sure that the man was disappointed to have been interrupted.

  “I am sorry if we interrupted you.”

  Eveline offered the apology while twining her fingers about themselves. She hung her head purposefully low, trying not to let herself make eye contact with the man. It was a deliberate ploy, a game to see if his eyes would try to chase after hers and make a connection. They did not.

  Lord Darlington gave a surprisingly honest smile to Mr Byrd, then turned his attention to Mary.

  “Miss Thorne, I must assume that this is the friend you mentioned at our last meeting?”

  At last, turning his sights to Eveline, he still seemed to show no interest in her pretence of demure shyness, so she at once locked eyes with him and gave a polite smile.

  “I am Miss Eveline Carter, my Lord.”

  She gave a polite curtsey, now refusing to break her eyes away from the man as her body bent smoothly. There was no discernible alteration in the man’s face as he bowed politely to her, no indication to suggest whether he preferred women of a more forceful nature or more bashful.

  “A pleasure, Miss Carter.”

  Lord Darlington spoke in a clipped voice and Eveline wondered if perhaps he might be the strong silent type, always brooding over some private thoughts and contemplations. It would certainly add another layer of mystery to man, but would make knowing him much harder.

  Knowing that she had to keep the Earl’s attention squarely on her and not allow it to drif
t, Eveline searched for some topic of conversation that might ensnare him.

  “I see that you have already been ensnared by the village traditions and legends.” She pointed casually at the half-carved turnip in the Earl’s right hand. “I am surprised that someone like you would be willing to stoop to partaking in such antiquated country rituals.”

  She had honestly meant it as a compliment to the man’s breeding and intelligence, but almost immediately, Eveline felt that she had made a misstep in the conversation. The gentleman’s face remained unreadable, but the lack of a smile or a kindly laugh, at her slight joke at the village's expense, suggested that he was not amused. Moreover, Mary’s face had gained a little extra colour and her lips had drawn thin at Eveline’s words. Now, her friend was not even looking at her at all.

  “I hardly think that such ancient and deeply held traditions need be considered something you must ‘stoop down’ to, in order to participate in them.” Lord Darlington’s use of her own words against her confirmed to Eveline that they were not in agreement on the subject. “Even if you do not believe in the spiritual significance of a custom, it is no bad thing to enjoy it for its own merits, as a part of our shared history and culture. Indeed, my only reason for coming to Old Bridge has been to connect to traditional celebrations which so many in London like to turn their nose up at.”

  Mary gave an approving nod and took a step forward, her lily-white hand reaching out to the Earl.

  “That is a very noble sentiment. Pray, may I see the carving you are working on. I have already seen your skills at sketching and am curious to see if you can translate the same artistry to this.”

  As he turned to Mary, Eveline was disappointed to see a complete shift in his countenance. Any thought that he might be some intensely private man, uncomfortable with showing his emotions openly, was dispelled by the sight of him smiling affably at Mary and placing the carved turnip in her hand.

  “Honestly, I think that you will be a little disappointed in the result. Turnips really are surprisingly hard to work with. They are somehow too hard and too soft at once. It would be much more convenient to carve something hollow, like a squash for example. I remember having a rather delicious one in the Americas during my stay over there. Now they would be ideal for this sort of work.”

  “Really, the Americas?” Even if he was proving less than interested in her, Eveline’s fascination with the man was not easily dulled. The suggestion that he was a keen traveller of the world enflamed her desire to learn more of him. “I have heard such fascinating things about that continent. Might you be persuaded to share some of your tales?”

  She took a step closer to the man, imitating Mary so that the man was now surrounded on both sides.

  The Earl looked uncomfortably to Mr Byrd and Eveline wondered if it really had been sensible to bring the man along. If they were to walk together then one of them would have to walk on Mr Byrd’s arm out of fairness.

  She looked to Mary, with pleading eyes.

  “Well, perhaps if you are willing to furnish my friend with your tales we could take a wander down the river together. Since I have already had the privilege of hearing them, perhaps I can walk with you Mr Byrd, let these two become acquainted?”

  Up until this point, Mr Byrd had been content to smile and let the conversation wash over him, but at Mary’s suggestion, his face began to contort with some concern and his eyes darted to Eveline.

  “Well, I had thought that perhaps…”

  Mary’s eyes suddenly glistened as a dewy wetness glazed over her pupils. With a slight tremor from her bottom lip, it looked to all the world like she might burst into tears if Mr Byrd were to refuse her. Without uttering another word of complaint, Mr Byrd put out his arm and Mary latched onto it once, guiding him down the dirt path at some speed.

  Left behind with the Earl, Eveline blushed. The man still had to put on his stockings and boots so there was a real chance of them being left alone if Mary put a in a good enough distance. As the back of her friend grew ever smaller, Eveline’s attention drifted back to the gentleman as he sat down in the dirt and began to put his boots back on.

  “I do believe that you might have trodden on Mr Byrd’s feelings. He seemed a little disappointed to be escorting Miss Thorne.”

  Lord Darlington did not mince his words and the smile he had worn for Mary was now wholly absent, leaving his face serious and business like.

  “I am sure that it is of no great significance to him. If he had wished to walk with me it is only because it has been some weeks since we last talked.”

  Eveline was eager to distance herself from Mr Byrd as quickly as possible, now that she was granted some time alone with the Earl.

  “Pray, how old are you Miss Carter?”

  His face bunched up as he struggled to force his right foot into the boot properly.

  Eveline was astounded by the directness of the man’s question. Could he already be assessing her potential as a candidate for marriage. She imagined such gentry received attentions from women often enough that they would seek to expedite conversation so that they wasted no time on people they felt unworthy.

  “I… I am just turned twenty, my Lord.”

  He nodded, and Eveline could detect neither approval or disapproval in his face.

  “You are particularly opposed to the celebrations and rituals surrounding All Hallows and the autumn harvest then? You seemed to present yourself very forcefully on the subject.”

  She could not tell if it was intentional on Lord Darlington's part or just bad luck, but his every word and question seemed like a wedge designed to push her apart from him.

  “N…No, not at all.” She took a breath to avoid stammering further. “I am quite fond of our village's little celebrations. They are quite fun and certainly provide a lot of entertainment for the children and adults alike. I was merely surprised that someone from London would be so willing to take an interest in our ways. I know so many people from the cities see country life to be somewhat backward and pagan. It is refreshing.”

  Eveline offered her best smile, but could feel the corners of her mouth wavering. It was as if her face did not wish to be complicit in the lie she was spinning.

  On his standing up next to her, Eveline realised that he was a tall man, and her head only just came up to his chest. She stared at that region, noticing the slight suggestion of toned muscle under his shirt. She bit her bottom lip a little and tried to force her attention back to his face. His expression was still like that of a statue.

  “I see.”

  That was all he said. His curt response renewed Eveline’s worry that she was not making any progress with the man.

  As they walked down the riverbank together, Lord Darlington dutifully recalled stories of his time in America. He had made the journey on business for his father, but it seemed this had just been an excuse he had used to see some of the world. He spoke freely and warmly of the time he had spent wandering that great country and the freedom he felt at being in a place where he could easily hide his title and rank and appear to all intents and purposes a common man.

  Still, as captivating as his tale was, Eveline felt that she had faltered badly on this first meeting. The fact that he had not deigned to take her arm when walking together was, to her, proof enough that she had failed to impress him. So, as she listened to his stories, she tried to commit her mind to formulating how she might remedy the situation for their next meeting.

  Chapter Four

  As evening set in and the sun sank down behind the line of trees to the west of the village, Eveline found herself sitting once more by her favourite window at home. She had spent the last few days shunning company and gazing out of that window, always dreaming of some contrived circumstance that might free her from the small village world that had cloistered her from real living for so many years. Now, just when an opportunity to seize her dream had presented itself, she found herself still sitting by the window, dismayed.

  Just
what had she done so wrong? The question had remained with her all through the afternoon, long after Lord Darlington had taken his leave. It had kept her quiet all through lunch with Mary and Mr Byrd and followed her all the way home and back to her starting position. Opportunity had presented itself to her, and she had entirely failed to grasp for it.

  The door to the drawing room opened, and Eveline sighed. She didn’t turn her head to greet her father, but her eyes flickered in his direction. He had brought her a plate of food from the table.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “No, you never are when you are sulking. Perhaps I could be persuaded not to force you to eat if you will tell me what has put you in so foul a mood. I had never thought a journey into the village would actually worsen things.”

  Eveline took a deep, dissatisfied breath and deigned to turn to her father. He was a slight man, and lacked presence in a room. Even when dealing with his defiant daughter, his back seemed to stoop and his eyes could not quite meet hers. He had been this way for years, and it was one of the qualities that her mother had always found intolerable. He must have been different once, but whatever spark had drawn him and her mother together, it had died quickly in their marriage.

  “Did you know about the arrival of an Earl to the village?”

  Eveline deflected her father’s question with one of her own, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

  Mr. Carter pressed into the room and put the plate of food down by Eveline’s side. He put out a hand slowly and rested it on her shoulder. Eveline made no attempt to shake him off.

  “I had heard rumour of it. Are you angry that I did not try to force an introduction? You know how I feel about imposing on strangers. There are plenty of young women in the village chasing his coat-tails. Do you think that he appreciates that? Do you think that he even welcomes the attention?” Her father patted her shoulder then moved over to his chair. “Tell me truthfully, do you really believe that such a gentleman would even consider making an alliance with someone from our sleepy little village?