Ladies and Their Secrets: Regency Romance Collection

by Alec, Joyce

  She waited for the maid to set down the tea tray and dismissed her before responding to him. “A promise, Lord Sharpe?” she asked, confused. “You have not made any to me, I do not think.”

  Lord Sharpe managed a small, uncomfortable smile. “No, indeed not,” he agreed softly. “But I did make such an agreement with your brother.”

  Julianna blinked rapidly in surprise, her hands stilling on the teapot. “Lord Hollard?”

  Lord Sharpe looked puzzled for a moment and then shook his head. “You mean with your brother Lord Hollard? No, not with him.”

  “Then with Mr. Newton,” Julianna said, finally managing to pour two cups of tea. “What is it he has asked of you? I do hope that it is nothing too ridiculous.” She handed Lord Sharpe his tea, and he took it with a small, thin smile, appearing almost stiff as he reached for it.

  “You misunderstand me entirely, Miss Newton,” he continued in his low, gruff voice. “I made a promise to Francis. To Mr. Francis Newton.”

  Julianna went cold all over, her hands no longer warmed by the teacup she held.

  “I know this must come as something of a surprise to you, and indeed, I had hoped that I would not have to explain myself, but it appears Francis did not say a word to you before the…trial.” His eyes lowered to the cup and saucer he held, his expression rather grave. “Regardless, I will do as I promised him.”

  Barely able to comprehend what Lord Sharpe was saying, Julianna tried her very best to remain composed and calm, despite the torment that was going on within her soul at the mention of her brother. She did not know what to make of this man who had appeared at her home simply to inform her that he was there to make good on a promise to her deceased brother. She had not allowed herself to truly consider Francis for some time, other than the occasional passing thought, and so to linger on him now was a little difficult.

  “I can see that I have quite taken you by surprise,” Lord Sharpe continued, making Julianna realize that she had said nothing for some minutes. “That was not my intention, but it is, of course, quite understandable.”

  “How did you know my brother, Lord Sharpe?” Julianna whispered, her eyes fixed on the gentleman sitting opposite her. “And what promise is it that you speak of?”

  Lord Sharpe cleared his throat, looking a trifle uncomfortable. “Your brother was some years older than you, I think?”

  “Yes,” she stated, setting down her cup and saucer on the table in front of her. “By seven years.”

  “Which explains why you do not know about his time in London during the three Seasons he was there,” Lord Sharpe murmured. “Not that there was a good deal to tell, but needless to say, he and I became very close in our friendship. I considered him to be one of my closest friends—until the night that he was…discovered.”

  Julianna shuddered violently, knowing precisely to what Lord Sharpe was referring.

  “I felt as though I did not know him at all then,” Lord Sharpe continued, his eyes fixed away from her as he tried to explain. “I thought our friendship meant very little, that I had been played false in some way in believing that Mr. Newton was this kind, good-natured, and a little foolish in his character man. I regret to say that I turned my back on him entirely.”

  “You regret it?” Julianna repeated, her hands twining their fingers together, such was the tension she felt. “Why is that?”

  Lord Sharpe hesitated, leaned forward in his chair, and allowed his gaze to meld with her own. “Your brother insisted that he was not guilty of the crimes put to him. After the verdict was given, he turned to me and spoke as though it were just he and I in the room. He assured me that he was not guilty and begged me, thereafter, to ensure that I would take care of you.”

  Julianna sat bolt upright, her whole being rippling with shock. Was this to be some sort of marriage proposal? She did not know Lord Sharpe in any way whatsoever, and surely he could not expect her simply to agree to his hand in marriage due to some promise or other he had made to Francis.

  “I intend to do just that, Miss Newton,” Lord Sharpe finished, still holding her gaze steadily. “I will be at each and every social occasion that you attend with the Marchioness of Thurston. I will ensure to dance with you, converse with you, and introduce you to those I feel will be accepting of your presence.” A small smile lifted his lips, although there was still a heaviness to his expression. “I am quite sure that we will be able to guide you through the Season without incident and to what I hope will be a satisfactory conclusion.”

  Julianna blinked, a little confused.

  “Marriage, Miss Newton,” Lord Sharpe stated plainly, his face growing pink with evident embarrassment. “I fully intend to make sure you have a suitable husband by the end of the Season. And, if not this Season, then the next.”

  “I see,” Julianna whispered, not quite sure whether she was grateful for such news or not. “That is…most kind of you, Lord Sharpe.” Her eyes narrowed a touch as she regarded him, wondering whether or not he was truly willing to do such a thing. “But there is no need for you to oblige if you do not wish it. I am quite sure the marchioness will—”

  “I must keep my promise to Newton,” Lord Sharpe interrupted, obviously referring to Francis. “I am a man of my word, Miss Newton, and therefore I will see it through.” Slowly, the pink began to leave his cheeks, giving him back his rather stern appearance. “That is, if you will accept me.”

  Julianna took a breath before she answered, seeing a vision of Francis floating before her eyes. Her brother had always been kind and attentive towards her – a good deal more so than her other two brothers – and she was overwhelmed by his consideration for her even on his last few minutes on earth.

  “I think I shall have to accept, Lord Sharpe,” she said slowly, her brow furrowing. “For Francis’s sake, even if not for my own. If he was good enough to think of me, to demand a promise from you for my good, then I have no right to turn that down. Therefore, I will accept.”

  Lord Sharpe did not look pleased nor filled with regret. “Thank you, Miss Newton. I shall see you tomorrow evening, I think.” He rose to his feet. “Lady Thurston informed me you were to go to Lord Reapsome’s ball.”

  “Yes, indeed.” She rose to join him, feeling a sudden flurry of nervous anxiety fill her stomach. “That is quite so.”

  “Then I shall ensure to sign your dance card almost as soon as I arrive,” he stated, bowing grandly in front of her. “You shall not find yourself alone this evening, Miss Newton, so you need not fear that.” To her surprise, he reached for her hand, which she had no choice but to give, lifting it his lips. His eyes looked down at her as he did so, holding a deep sympathy, which Julianna allowed to soothe her soul.

  “Thank you, Lord Sharpe,” she said, a little hoarsely. “You are very kind.”

  He nodded, let go of her hand, and made his way to the door, only to stop suddenly and swing back around to face her.

  “Might I ask you a rather personal question, Miss Newton?”

  She nodded.

  “Do you think that your brother truly was guilty of those crimes?” Lord Sharpe asked, looking a trifle uncomfortable as he shifted from foot to foot, his gaze now roving around the room behind her. “Do you believe he truly was a murderer?”

  Julianna gaped at him, her mind burning with the agony of what he had asked.

  “I can see that I have asked something I should not have,” Lord Sharpe muttered, dropping his head. “Forgive me.”

  “No,” Julianna said loudly, startling both herself and Lord Sharpe. “What I mean is, no, I do not see how he could be guilty of such terrible things, Lord Sharpe. However, the pronouncement was made, and therefore, I must accept it.” She lifted her chin, surprised that tears were still hurrying towards her eyes despite the fact that Francis had been gone for some time. “There is no good in such questions, Lord Sharpe.”

  His eyes finally settled on hers again, an air of sadness filling the room. “No,” he agreed quietly. “No, I suppo
se there is not. Do forgive me, Miss Newton.” Turning on his heel, he made to quit the room, only for Julianna to call him back.

  “If you please,” she said, making him stumble slightly as he turned around. “What are your thoughts on the matter, Lord Sharpe? Do you believe my brother was a thief, a liar, and a murderer?” Those words burned on her tongue, but she did not take them back, standing quietly and waiting for Lord Sharpe’s response.

  “No.” Lord Sharpe’s expression was one of great sadness, as though he deeply regretted that he had ever believed it to be true. “I do not know why I should think so or what good it is now, but I cannot remove your brother’s last words to me, Miss Newton.” He spread his hands, a look of deep regret in his eyes “I do not think your brother ever did a single act of criminality in his life. I believe that he was entirely innocent, and—as he stated—someone else was using him to take the blame for their own actions.”

  “But who would do such a thing?” Julianna asked, her heart quickening in her chest. “And why?”

  “My dear Miss Newton,” Lord Sharpe replied heavily. “Those are questions that I fear may never be answered. Good day to you.”

  2

  “Good evening, Miss Newton.”

  Thomas had to admit that Miss Newton did look rather beautiful this evening, even though her eyes were darting from here to there in evident fright. Her ballgown was a light emerald green, which only made him more aware of the beauty of her green eyes, and there were pearls adorning her fair hair, which caught the light as she moved. She was small in stature, appearing to be almost delicate in her movements, with an oval face and high cheekbones that were surely to be the envy of almost every lady present. Her lips were full and pink, her cheeks flaring with color as she looked up at him. Yes, indeed, Miss Newton was sure to capture the attention of at least a few gentlemen this evening.

  “Lord Sharpe, how very good to see you.”

  He bowed over the hand of the Marchioness of Thurston, smiling at her. “A very good evening to you, Lady Thurston. Is your husband with you this evening?”

  “He is,” Lady Thurston replied, with a slightly rueful smile. “But he has already abandoned me to go in search of the card room. Lord Reapsome was more than glad to show him the way.”

  Thomas stifled a grin, just as Lady Thurston laughed. He had been summoned to Lord and Lady Thurston’s home almost the minute he had arrived back in London – although quite how they had known he was present, he could not say. He had found the gentleman and lady to be more than concerned for Miss Newton, with Lord Thurston asking him directly if Thomas still intended to keep his word and ensure Miss Newton was well looked after during the season.

  Of course, Thomas had said that, yes, he had every intention of doing so, and so a bond was forged between the three of them. The truth was that Thomas had very little idea as to why the marquess and marchioness had any particular interest in coming to the aid of Miss Newton, particularly when they had no connection to the family, but there was something about their characters that made him believe it simply came from a desire to be of help to those who were unable to find such help for themselves. To have wealth and a title, such as they did, meant that there was very little reason for them to involve themselves in anything they did not wish to, but Thomas suspected that their hearts were more than generous, seeking to help Miss Newton just because they did not wish to see her so rejected by society on account of her brother’s deeds.

  “I am glad to hear that your first meeting with Miss Newton went well,” Lady Thurston continued, with a smile in Miss Newton’s direction. “I do apologize that I had not informed her of who you were and what your intentions for her were beforehand, but I thought it best that you explain to her all that had occurred last year.”

  Thomas nodded and gave Lady Thurston a quick smile. “But of course,” he said grandly. “Now, Miss Newton, might I sign your dance card?”

  “She is not to waltz,” Lady Thurston warned, with a slight twinkle in her eye. “That delight is to be saved for some time yet.”

  Miss Newton’s eyes widened as she turned from Lady Thurston towards Thomas, her blush darkening.

  “I would have asked your permission at first, of course,” Thomas replied to Lady Thurston, smiling at Miss Newton who, to his surprise, did not smile back. “The quadrille, however, will be quite safe, I think.” He wrote his name down for the quadrille and then for the cotillion a little later, thinking that he would have to ensure that Miss Newton smiled and laughed with whomever she would be introduced to this evening. She would have to pretend that she did not feel the anxiety and the fear that was so evidently coursing through her. Glancing into her eyes, he saw her gaze drop away, her color still high.

  It was time to talk to her about what he would expect.

  “Might I steal Miss Newton from your side for a time, Lady Thurston?” he asked, offering Miss Newton his arm. “I have some acquaintances I should be glad to introduce her to.”

  Lady Thurston beamed at him, her lined face seeming to glow with delight. “But of course, Lord Sharpe!” she exclaimed, ushering Miss Newton towards him. “That would be splendid. Make sure you say that I am the one to sponsor her. And if there is any suggestion of anything untoward, any insults or the like, then I expect you to defend her as though she were your own sister.” Lady Thurston’s voice had become hard, as if she knew that this was exactly what Miss Newton was about to face.

  Thomas inclined his head. “I shall defend her valiantly,” he promised, waiting until Miss Newton had gently placed her hand under his arm, although her grasp was so light it felt as though she was barely touching him. “Come along then, Miss Newton.”

  Turning away from Lady Thurston, Thomas and Miss Newton walked in silence for a few minutes, being entirely unsure as to what to say to one another. The music and buzz of conversation surrounded them both, leaving Thomas feeling as though there was, perhaps, very little to say to the lady. He would do the introductions, but it was not particularly important whether they had a good conversation. All he needed was for Miss Newton to garner herself some new acquaintances, and all would be well.

  “I would ask you not to speak of me as though I am not there.”

  A little surprised that Miss Newton was not only speaking to him but speaking in such a harsh tone of voice, Thomas looked down at her, his brows lifted. “I beg your pardon?”

  Miss Newton lifted her chin, her eyes flashing. “I do not wish you to speak to Lady Thurston – or to anyone for that matter, as though I am not present and able to hear your every word,” she said again, a good deal more firmly this time. “It makes me feel as though I am nothing more than a burden that must be dealt with as swiftly and as firmly as possible.”

  Thomas found his feet sticking to the floor, staring down at the quiet and gentle Miss Newton, quite shocked that she had spoken with such firmness.

  “It is good of you to come to my aid in such a way, of course,” Miss Newton continued, not once allowing her eyes to drift from his. “And I am grateful for both you and for Lord and Lady Thurston’s kindness, but I will not allow you to continue to speak of me as though I am unable to speak for myself, or to understand what it is you are saying. Do I make myself quite clear?”

  Completely taken aback by what he had heard and seen from Miss Newton, Thomas found it hard to put into words precisely what it was he was thinking. There was a spark of anger in his heart, fueled by frustration and a sense that Miss Newton was being more than a little severe.

  “You need not be so ridiculous,” he stated firmly, aware that she had let go of his arm. “I was not doing such a thing deliberately.”

  She seemed to swell with anger in front of him. “I am not being ridiculous nor am I suggesting that you were being deliberately cruel,” she stated, folding her arms across her chest. “Nor will I permit such a thing to drop from your attention. You did not ask me if I wished to accompany you across the ballroom to meet some of your acquaintances, but rathe
r you spoke to Lady Thurston.” Her gaze grew cold. “I am well aware that it is quite proper to ask a young lady’s sponsor or companion for such a thing, but only if the lady herself has been asked first.”

  All of Thomas’s anger disappeared in a moment, as he realized what it was she was saying. Miss Newton was quite correct to state that this was precisely what he had done. He had not asked her if she wished to walk with him; he had merely spoken to Lady Thurston and simply expected Miss Newton to go along with whatever they agreed.

  “Alas, Miss Newton, I can see now that your words have merit,” he muttered, his eyes now fixed to the floor by their feet. “I do apologize. I will not do such a thing again.”

  Miss Newton looked rather surprised at this, her own angry expression beginning to fade away. “Thank you, Lord Sharpe,” she murmured, tilting her head as though she did not quite believe that he was telling her the truth. “That is good of you to say.”

  Thomas cleared his throat and made to offer her his arm again, only for someone to stumble into him, hard. Staggering forward, he crashed into Miss Newton, who managed to keep herself upright with an effort, whilst he himself tumbled to the ground.

  The gasps from those around him sent color burning into his face as Thomas struggled to get himself back to standing. He was a little dazed, wondering what sort of brute of a man had managed to knock him to the floor.

  “I do apologize, old boy!”

  Thomas blinked, seeing a man with a thick, brown beard reaching for his hand. Thomas gave it at once and allowed the fellow to help pull him up, more than aware of the many eyes that were on him.

  “What on earth is the meaning of this?” he asked, angrily brushing down his clothes and praying that his cravat was not entirely ruined. “What were you doing, man?”

  The gentleman inclined his head, his face almost entirely covered by his thick beard and a long, thick mustache. It was not at all the thing, but for whatever reason, this particular gentleman appeared not to care about fashion and the like. No doubt such a thing would be noticed by the gossip writers and this incident would be somewhere in the society papers in the morning.