Ladies and Their Secrets: Regency Romance Collection

by Alec, Joyce

  “You do not believe me then,” Lady Emma cried, tears beginning to run down her cheeks like the rain. “Oh, I can see how foolish I have been in hoping for such a thing when clearly it is already too late.”

  Seeing Lady Perrin glance over her shoulder at them both again, and aware that guests were behind them also, albeit it far away, Charlotte tried her best to quiet her stepsister.

  “Hush, please,” she hissed, tugging her hand out of Emma’s. “You cannot expect me to simply believe everything you say, Emma. Too much has been done for that to occur. I am afraid that this is simply something you must prove to me.”

  Lady Emma sniffed delicately and pulled her lace handkerchief from her sleeve, dabbing at her eyes. “I suppose I have no choice but to do so,” she replied, looking quite miserable. “Have no fear, Charlotte, I shall do nothing but try to support you in whatever choices you make. I shall no longer try to get in your way or cause others to think badly of you.” Her expression lightened, as though she had just hit on an idea. “In fact, I shall speak to Lord Withington and confess that I spoke ill of you without cause. He shall know for a fact that what I said was quite untrue.”

  “I do not think that necessary, although I appreciate the offer,” Charlotte replied slowly. “He is already aware that what you stated was not true.”

  “All the more reason for me to apologize to him,” Lady Emma declared, wiping her eyes again before replacing her kerchief back in her sleeve. “In this way, I hope I shall begin to show you that I fully intend to be a wonderful sister to you. As Lady Perrin states, I have been given a wonderful gift and I must choose to treat that gift well instead of tossing it aside.”

  So saying, she smiled brightly at Charlotte and stepped away, evidently in search of Lord Withington in order to apologize to him seemingly at once. Charlotte was left to walk alone for a time, her mind clouded with thoughts. Lady Emma seemed to be quite sincere, but still Charlotte could not allow herself to simply take her at her word. There would have to be a great deal of practical evidence before Charlotte finally let herself start to trust Lady Emma.

  “She spoke to you then?”

  Seeing Lady Perrin waiting for her, Charlotte nodded and fell into step beside her. “She did, Aunt Agatha.”

  “And do you believe her?”

  It was an odd question for Lady Perrin to ask, given that she had been the one talking to Lady Emma for some time before she had approached Charlotte. Frowning, Charlotte glanced up at Lady Perrin, seeing the slight smile on her face.

  “To be truthful, Lady Perrin, I am not quite sure I do,” she replied slowly. “It is not that I do not want to believe her, but I know I must be careful around Emma.”

  “Very well put,” Lady Perrin agreed, with a smile. “It would be wise to show caution around your stepsister, Charlotte. Emma is a wonderful actress, and even I found myself growing more and more convinced of her sincerity. It was with an effort that I had to remind myself that she might easily be playing us all for fools.” She looked down to the ground and frowned. “Then again, she might prove us both wrong, and I cannot help but hope that there might be a change in her character that will benefit us all.”

  “I do hope so,” Charlotte sighed, relieved to find Lady Perrin so shrewd. “It would be wonderful to have a kind, caring sister. I suppose we shall have to just wait and see.”

  13

  “And so, it is the final ball of the house party,” Kinsley murmured, looking down from the balcony into the ballroom below. “It has been a most enjoyable sennight, I must say.”

  “You have done very well, Kinsley,” Phillip agreed, coming to stand by his friend. “Thank you for the invitation.” He grinned, as Kinsley chuckled, shaking his head at him. “I will confess that I did not want to attend at first, but now I am quite glad I did so.”

  Kinsley’s laughter grew. “And is that because you have been able to spend a great deal of time with Miss Richardson?”

  “Perhaps,” Phillip admitted, no shame in the fact that he found the lady more than a little desirable. “I was quite wrong about her, Kinsley. I should never have believed her to be a lady with questionable morals, batting her eyelashes at everyone and giving away her favors freely.”

  Kinsley’s smile faded. “No, you should not have,” he agreed firmly. “But she has forgiven you, has she not?”

  “Unbelievably, she has,” Phillip agreed, shaking his head as a sense of disbelief filled him. “And, even more surprising, Lady Emma came to beg my forgiveness for speaking so cruelly about her stepsister.”

  Kinsley stared at him, his mouth falling open.

  “I know, I was just as astonished as you are now,” Phillip said and chuckled, recalling how Lady Emma had confessed all to him, desperate for him to forgive her and hoping aloud that he did not think badly of Miss Richardson. “Of course, I already knew that Miss Richardson was not what her stepsister said she was, but it was heartening to hear it from Lady Emma herself.”

  “Perhaps she is finally showing a little bit of responsibility,” Kinsley murmured, blinking in surprise. “Lady Emma has always come across as a bit of an immature, flighty young thing, but I am glad now that she has shown some common sense and maturity."

  “Indeed,” Phillip replied, seeing the guests begin to arrive and finding himself eager with expectation. “We should go down, Kinsley. You cannot be absent from the ball, especially not when you are the host.”

  Kinsley chuckled, slapping Phillip hard on the back. “Desperate to see her, are you? Well, well, who would have thought that I would ever see my dear friend fall so helplessly in love with a pretty little thing like Miss Richardson?”

  Phillip froze to the spot, his hand tightening on the rail. In love?

  “I had best go,” Kinsley continued, evidently unaware of how his words had affected Phillip. “Come down when you are ready.”

  Phillip watched him go, something building in his chest. He had never once considered himself in love before, having never truly experienced such a feeling. Was Kinsley correct? Was he in love with Miss Richardson?

  Looking down into the ballroom, Phillip felt his heart slam into his chest as he saw her descend the steps. She was utterly breathtaking, and within his core, Phillip felt something deep and everlasting settle within him. He had eyes for no other and could not think of dancing with anyone but her.

  She made him smile, and his smile brightened each and every day he spent in her presence. The thought of her leaving to return home, whilst he went to his, brought a sharp pain to his heart. He enjoyed breaking his fast with her, dining with her, spending the days and evenings in her company. She was quickwitted, intelligent, lively, and beautiful. Phillip knew he could never feel for another what he did for her.

  “Good gracious,” he whispered aloud, not knowing whether to smile or burst into raucous laughter. “I love her.” He kept his gaze fixed on her as he slowly made his way to the staircase that would bring him into the ballroom itself. “I love Miss Richardson,” he whispered to himself, suddenly desperate to tell her so.

  He did not want her to doubt his affections, nor could he let her return home without being fully aware of what he felt for her. His future was filled with visions of her, making him realize that he wanted nothing more than to wed her and bring her to his home.

  The realization was quite overwhelming, forcing him to pause on the stairs for a moment.

  “Lord Withington?”

  Looking down, he saw Lady Emma climbing the stairs towards him, a shy smile on her face.

  “Lady Emma,” he murmured distractedly. “You do not wish to join the other guests?”

  “In a moment, I suppose,” she replied, climbing the stairs past him and stopping so that she stood just above him. “I am going to take some time to view the guests and the dancing and consider what I have learned during my time here.”

  “I see,” Phillip replied, smiling. “I do hope you will be able to join us soon.”

  Lady Emma chuckled,
leaning forward just a little. “I can guess who it is you wish to dance with, Lord Withington,” she murmured, glancing to her left. “Your interest has not gone unnoticed.”

  Phillip felt heat race up his spine, crawling into his face, as he glanced over to see Miss Richardson watching them both. “Indeed,” he murmured, clearing his throat. “Then, I can assure you that I have nothing but good intentions for your stepsister.”

  Lady Emma looked down at him, her eyes suddenly narrowed. “And yet, she is below me in status.”

  He raised his eyebrows, wondering what she meant by such a statement. “Such a thing does not concern me, Lady Emma. I have no reservations in that area.”

  She put one hand on his chest and, jumping in surprise, Phillip looked up at her, about to ask what it was she was doing—only for her to kiss him full on the mouth.

  It took a moment for him to register what it was she was doing and another moment for him to jerk away, practically falling down the stairs as he did so.

  “Whatever are you doing?” he hissed, wiping his mouth. “Lady Emma, I am astonished at you!”

  “I am better than her in both status and beauty,” she snarled, her hands fisting as she glared at him. “Yet it is she who manages to capture the attention of a marquess.” She tossed her head, her fair curls flying. “I will not have it, I say! It is I who should marry first, not her.”

  Flabbergasted by the venomous hatred in her eyes, Phillip stared at her for another moment, only for dread to settle in his stomach. Slowly, he turned his gaze towards Miss Richardson, only to see her hurrying from the room.

  “How dare you!” he whispered, anger bursting in his veins. “How dare you try to manipulate me like this! You are nothing but a snake, Lady Emma, and I can assure you that all this will come to naught.”

  She laughed harshly and turned on her heel. “We will see, Lord Withington. You may discover that it is I who am the victor after all.”

  Phillip did not wait to hear more, practically running down the steps and rushing—headlong—into the ballroom.

  “My lord!”

  His heart beating wildly in his chest, Phillip turned to see Lady Perrin hurrying towards him, her expression horror-stricken. “Charlotte just left the ballroom without explanation,” she said, grasping his arm and pulling him into the shadows. “She claimed a headache, but tears were in her eyes.” Her sharp eyes pierced him, as though already blaming him for what had occurred. “Is there something I should know?”

  Seeing that he would have no choice but to answer truthfully, Phillip let out a long sigh. “I am afraid Lady Emma chose to kiss me only a few moments ago,” he murmured, seeing Lady Perrin’s shock as she clapped one hand over her mouth. “I stepped away at once, of course, but it was in full view of the other guests, and unfortunately, of Miss Richardson.”

  Lady Perrin drew in a sharp breath, her hand falling back to her side as she tried to regain her composure. “Did anyone else see you?”

  “Not that I am aware of, but Miss Richardson was Lady Emma’s intended victim,” Phillip replied, hoarsely. “I confess to you now that I am in love with Miss Richardson. I will not allow this to sever the connection between us. I must find her…so long as I have your blessing.”

  Lady Perrin smiled softly, putting a gentle hand on his arm. “Of course, you do, Lord Withington. It is my niece that must take the blame for this matter.” Her expression grew grim as she looked around the ballroom. “Where is she?”

  “I believe she went up to the balcony,” Phillip replied. “Do you think Miss Richardson returned to her chambers?”

  “Most likely she escaped outdoors,” Lady Perrin said after a moment. “She will not want the four walls around her, not when she is distressed.” She smiled sadly. “Take care of her, Lord Withington. I will come to her chambers a little later.”

  Phillip nodded, and as Lady Perrin left, he shot a glance up towards the balcony. Lady Emma was standing there still, a dark smile on her face that told him she already thought she won. How easily he had been taken in, believing that she meant every word of her apology. And yet it had all been done for a particular cause, so as to try and separate him from Charlotte.

  “I will find her,” he growled to himself, pushing open the door and walking quickly up the hallway, grasping the arm of a passing footman and asking him if he had seen one of the guests coming this way. The mention of a young lady who had hurried outside in the direction of the arbor by the lily ponds shot hope through Phillip’s heart. Within minutes, he was outside striding through the dark paths with ease. A few lanterns were lit, for which he was more than grateful, otherwise, he would have very little clue as to where she might be.

  “Charlotte?” he called with desperation, doing away with all formalities. As he approached the arbor, he called for her once more. “Charlotte? Are you in there? Please, do not push me away. We need to talk. I beg of you, let me talk to you. Do not let your stepsister’s evil ways push us apart, not when I have so much to say to you.”

  Silence met him. There was no answering call, nothing but the gentle lapping of the water against the sides of the pond. Stepping inside the arbor, he was met with nothing but blackness. Despair filled him, and he put his head in his hands for a moment, drawing in a deep breath. He had to find her. He had to tell her how he truly felt and explain that what she had seen was nothing more than her stepsister’s manipulation at work.

  Raising his head, Phillip looked about him again as he stepped out of the arbor, wondering in which direction to go next. A sudden flash of color caught his gaze, coming from the maze just beyond the ponds.

  “Charlotte!” he shouted, rushing towards the entrance to the maze. “Charlotte, please! Do not run from me!”

  14

  Charlotte had been caught up watching her stepsister talking to Lord Withington, wondering whether Lady Emma was confessing that she had told him falsehoods. It had been a few days since their conversation in the gardens, and in that time, Lady Emma had appeared to have the change of character she had promised.

  She had been nothing but kind towards Charlotte, even going so far as to link arms with her and discuss the day’s events with her in a warm and friendly manner. Charlotte had not known what to do other than to go along with it but still refusing to trust that her stepsister was entirely trustworthy.

  Lady Perrin, of course, had been delighted to see such a transformation and had encouraged them both in different ways—although Charlotte had never seen the flicker of doubt in Lady Perrin’s eyes entirely disappear. It was not something she could easily let go of either, not when it had only been a short time since Lady Emma had declared her change of heart.

  And then, to see her lean forward and kiss Lord Withington full on the mouth, it had struck an arrow right through Charlotte’s heart.

  The worst of it was that Lord Withington had not immediately moved away. Charlotte did not know why he had not, her eyes unable to remove themselves from the scene unfolding in front of her. Finally, when he had broken it off and stumbled back, she had seen him stare at Lady Emma before turning his gaze to her, searching for her amongst the crowd.

  She had been unable to remain, unable to watch what would occur after such an incident, and so she had taken to her heels, hurrying away from the ballroom, and in the process bumping into Lady Perrin.

  Somehow, Charlotte had come up with a garbled explanation about having a headache, and before Lady Perrin could even respond, Charlotte had left her side and hurried up the corridor.

  The thought of going to her chambers was an unwelcome one—for surely that was where Lord Withington would seek her out first. Instead, she had hurried outside, relieved that she had her thin shawl with which to cover her shoulders.

  The cool night air was a welcome relief, a calming stillness away from the hubbub of the crowd and noise of the ballroom. Charlotte had not known where she was going, her feet taking her in a random direction as she sought to find a place of solace.

 
* * *

  The lily ponds were quiet and still, and Charlotte sank down onto a bench by the water, her eyes filling with tears. She could not express how she felt with words, for the tearing of her soul was so painful it racked her entire being. Sense told her that Lord Withington had been taken by surprise, but then why had he not moved away almost at once? Why had he lingered?

  Charlotte’s tears dripped onto her lap, soaking into her dress. Her stepsister still hated her with every part of her being, that was for certain. This had all been a ruse, a cover to allow her to concoct a way to tear Charlotte’s life apart, to make her believe that Lord Withington could be easily pulled towards another.

  The memory of them on the staircase was burned into Charlotte’s mind and was not something she thought she would easily be able to forget. How did one simply dismiss something like that?

  Wiping her eyes hurriedly, Charlotte heard the sound of running feet. Quickly hiding herself behind a rather large tree, she heard Lord Withington shouting for her.

  “We need to talk. I beg of you, let me talk to you. Do not let your stepsister’s evil ways push us apart. Not when I have so much to say to you!”

  His words tore into her already damaged heart, trying to believe that what he said was true, but finding it impossible to forget what she had seen. She did not want to see him, not now. Not yet. It was still too soon, still too fresh.

  “Charlotte?” he called again, stepping into the arbor, and Charlotte took her chance. Seeing the lantern-lit maze just behind her, she quickly hurried towards it, thinking that she would hide herself there for a time. Her heart thundered in her chest as she moved away from him, tears still running down her cheeks in rivulets.

  “Charlotte!”

  He had seen her.

  Her feet moved quickly, pushing her to run faster, moving heedlessly through the maze.

  “Charlotte, please!” he called, his voice closer to her than before. “Do not run from me. We need to talk! You know we do. What happened—it was not of my doing! I swear it to you.”