Love Regency Style

by Samantha Holt

  He glanced at her a trifle uneasily. When he caught Charlotte’s eyes on him, he had the audacity to grin.

  Her heart fluttered until she glanced away. “Now that I think about it, I do believe—”

  “Suffice it to say,” His Grace cut her off, “no one is upset with your thoroughly delightful manners, Miss Haywood. So there is no need to continue this discussion.”

  “And there will be no more talk about anyone leaving,” Lady Victoria concluded. “Is that not correct, John?”

  “Oh, quite right, my dear. Although I would still like to hear what Miss Haywood has to say about His Grace’s behavior at the party, just to obtain all the pertinent facts.” Then his expression became rather grim. He idly picked up the newspaper lying on the table next to him and refolded it into a tight rectangle.

  When Charlotte glanced obliquely through her lashes at the duke, she realized that the darkness in his eyes had deepened. He glanced at her briefly before eyeing his uncle in something akin to embarrassment and worry.

  Just what reason did a duke have to be worried?

  “I am sure, I wouldn’t know,” Charlotte replied, studying the duke’s pained expression. She glanced at her guardian and felt an ominous chill settle around her. “Is something wrong?”

  “No—” Mr. Archer said.

  The duke simultaneously said, “Yes.”

  Charlotte looked from one to the other and folded her hands in her lap. “If it is not presumptuous to ask, perhaps Your Grace might explain?”

  Chapter Ten

  He should not enter any house, except in the execution of his duty, nor should he engage in conversation with anyone except on matters relating to duty. — Constable’s Pocket Guide

  “There was an…accident at the party last night,” Nathaniel said heavily.

  “An accident?” Miss Haywood echoed, confusion clouding her eyes. “Surely, you don’t mean the loss of your lapis fob?”

  “No, not that. A girl, Lady Anne, was found in the gardens.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “I am afraid someone hit her over the head.”

  “Poor thing. Is she badly injured?”

  Nathaniel nodded. His stomach tightened. The heavy breakfast he had shared with Harnet now lodged like a cannonball under his heart. “She is dead, I am afraid.”

  “You mean she was murdered?” Miss Haywood exclaimed.

  “Well, yes, I am afraid so.”

  She paled and pressed her fingers to her lips as if the announcement made her ill. Nathaniel reached over and squeezed her hand before he glanced around to find both Lady Victoria and Archer staring at him curiously. He released his grip on Miss Haywood’s hand despite her icy look of horror.

  Then in a surge of defiance, he took her cold hands in his once more and rubbed them, trying to get warmth back into the frozen fingers. He couldn’t forget the way her eyes had been nearly silver with wariness when she walked into the room, afraid the Archers wouldn’t welcome her.

  Nonetheless, her gift to his uncle showed a deep well of kindness despite her fears and he wondered if she realized how revealing the gesture was. Giving away the only thing remaining of her home and childhood exposed a soft, fragile heart aching for affection. He had seen the vulnerable hope in her eyes when she handed Archer the small chest. Feeling protective, Nathaniel could not ignore her outstretched hand.

  “Miss Haywood, are you quite well?” he asked gently.

  Lady Victoria gestured to her husband.

  Archer walked over to a cabinet against the wall and pulled out a bottle of scotch whiskey. “Medicinal,” he said, moving to pour a dram into Miss Haywood’s teacup.

  “Drink your tea, dear,” Lady Victoria said in a soft voice.

  “What—oh,” Miss Haywood replied unsteadily. Nathaniel pressed the cup into her hands and held it steady while she drank the brew. Then her gaze met his.

  His pulse quickened as something stirred in the depths of her eyes.

  “You were in the garden….” Miss Haywood murmured softly, dashing cold water into his face. “When we first met, you—”

  Nathaniel straightened. “I saw her in the garden, but I, uh, went in the other direction. Believe me.”

  “Oh, we do, my lad—er, Your Grace,” Archer assured him. “Frightful thing.” He poured liberal doses of whiskey into all their cups. In silence, they drained them to the bottom.

  “I didn’t have anything to do with it,” Nathaniel said, setting his cup down with a rattle. He couldn’t stand the look of dismay in Miss Haywood’s light blue eyes. They were so revealing of her moods, so easy to read. He stared into the clear depths, wishing he had never had the urge to walk alone in Lady Beatrice’s gardens for a breath of fresh air.

  “I am sure you are innocent,” she said slowly.

  He heard the hint if uncertainty in her voice and he replied bitterly, “Then you are one of the few.”

  “Nonsense,” Charlotte said. Her shoulders straightened and she set her cup down with a snap. “There was not a drop of blood on you anywhere that I could see.”

  Nathaniel replied, “At least you noticed.” He smiled at her.

  Miss Haywood flushed and took another sip of tea, choking when she swallowed too quickly.

  “It is amazing what rubbish they print,” Nathaniel said. “You obviously have more sense than to believe what you read.”

  “So you two did meet in the garden,” Lady Victoria interrupted.

  His grin widened.

  Miss Haywood frowned at him and caught his gaze. She shook her head very so slightly. “We met on the terrace,” she corrected.

  Apparently she didn’t want the Archers to know Nathaniel had dragged her off into the bushes. And that suited him. She needn’t have worried about him admitting that to her guardian. No one had been compromised. There was no earthly reason to discuss it.

  “Well, nevvy? What of it?” Archer asked. “Garden or terrace?”

  “Terrace, certainly,” Nathaniel replied smoothly. “Miss Haywood was instructing me on the identification of moths.” He tried to recapture Miss Haywood’s gaze to reassure her, but she resisted him. “It was all very correct.”

  “Yes. And you were very polite, too, as I recall. It quite impressed me at the time,” Miss Haywood said. “Exceedingly polite.”

  He stared at her. Her sky blue eyes twinkled roguishly above a pert nose lightly dusted with freckles. One long red curl twined over her shoulder, making her mannish scarf anything but masculine. His eyes drifted lower to the slight curve of her chest, remembering what Harnet said about women with slender builds.

  Harnet could say what he wanted, Miss Haywood looked very much like trouble to Nathaniel.

  “Enough of that boring topic,” Archer changed the subject. “Miss Haywood, have any of your previous guardians presented you to Society?”

  Miss Haywood laughed, although Nathaniel detected a bitter edge. “I had no wish to be presented. Lord Westover knew this. We discussed it several times. He would have presented me had I wanted him to do so.”

  “But why would you refuse presentation?” Lady Victoria asked.

  “I have no wish to marry.”

  What an extraordinary thing for a woman to say. Nathaniel searched her face for an explanation, but she didn’t appear to be sad. He could see no sign of anger over some past incident with a man that would discourage dreams of marriage, so why did she dislike the idea?

  “Why?” Archer asked. “You are intelligent and attractive. Why do you not wish to marry? Don’t you desire a family? Children?”

  Nathaniel smiled when Lady Victoria reached over and squeezed her husband’s hand, her face filled with warmth. Money was never a consideration for Archer, despite the number of times he had fallen a trifle short toward the end of the month. It would never occur to John Archer to mention Miss Haywood’s most obvious asset, her wealth.

  “No. I have other interests.” Miss Haywood pulled several letters out of her reticule. Watc
hing her, Nathaniel realized the reason for her severely tailored dark green dress: she was dressed for travel. She had not been just nervous when she came into the room. She had been convinced he would demand she be sent elsewhere after her disrespectful remarks the previous evening.

  Had she thought he was so high in the instep that he would be angry with her? How could she have misread his character so badly?

  He couldn’t recall saying anything to make her come to such unflattering conclusions. He had laughed and had even pulled her into the bushes later.

  But then again, perhaps she did have reasons. Lady Victoria had told him earlier about Miss Haywood’s frequent moves. None of her previous guardians kept her for more than a year. Such a history of rebuffs would affect anyone and it also raised a serious question: what was wrong with her? Moodiness? Insanity?

  Perhaps he should do some quiet inquiries. There was no doubt in his mind that Lady Victoria was a shrewd and intelligent woman—after all, she had kept Archer out of serious trouble for nearly twenty years—but he didn’t want a cuckoo deposited in their nest.

  The crackle of paper caught his attention. Miss Haywood opened and smoothed out several worn and refolded letters.

  “I’ve been corresponding with several gentleman involved in the excavations in Egypt. It’s very exciting,” Miss Haywood said, glancing at them over the letters.

  Instead of being embarrassed by this outrageous confession, Miss Haywood’s cheeks flushed with excitement. Her blue eyes shone.

  Shock, closely followed by dismay rippled through Nathaniel. She had been corresponding with men? Strangers? No wonder Lord Westover was willing to give up control of her and her fortune. Miss Haywood was clearly unable to comprehend even the rudiments of proper behavior.

  Unattached young women did not correspond with strange men. Even married women did not correspond with strange men.

  “What…men?” Lady Victoria asked. Her gentle question did not betray her feelings, however her pleasant expression was fixed and taut, revealing that she was as shocked as he was.

  “Mr. Belzoni and Mr. Bankes. Unfortunately, Lord Smithson does not seem to require any assistance at the moment. Mr. Belzoni has been unable to get permits to dig thus far, but I am hoping his circumstances change.” She frowned for a moment before refolding the letters. Then she clasped her hands and rested them on top of the packet. “I have heard, however, that another scholar, Mr. Mainwaring, is putting together an expedition. So it is possible I could join him, instead. Surely one of them will get the necessary permits.”

  After a few seconds of silence, Lady Victoria replied weakly, “You…you cannot be serious?”

  “Oh, yes, I am quite serious. I am going to Egypt. In fact, I would like to discuss leaving later this year. In a few months, if possible. That is, if arrangements can be made with Mr. Mainwaring. This is the most astounding time—you don’t realize what they are discovering in Egypt. Even as we sit here, they are excavating tombs over a thousand years old.” She leaned forward, her eyes blazing, utterly absorbed in her vision. “Just last year, Mr. Belzoni discovered the tombs of Amenhotep the third, Ramses the first, Merneptoh and Ay. And while he was investigating the tomb of Ramses the first, he found the entrance to the sepulcher of Seti the first, Ramses the first’s son, eighteen feet below the surface of the desert. Can you imagine? Every day they find something new—I must be a part of it!”

  She spoke for several more minutes, her face alive and glowing with enthusiasm. Her mood was infectious. Nathaniel could almost see the hot, shifting sands blowing over the dark entrances to lost tombs.

  When she paused, Nathaniel studied his uncle and Lady Victoria. Both sat forward in their chairs, absorbed in her words.

  Miss Haywood’s charismatic spell caught all of them. Even he had a sudden, overwhelming desire to feel the sand shift beneath his boots and hold Miss Haywood’s warm hand in his as they wandered through long-deserted Egyptian ruins.

  He shook himself. The last thing he needed at the moment was a trip to Egypt in the company of an overly persuasive woman.

  He glanced at his uncle’s rapt face and leaned back, folding his arms over his chest.

  Archer was lucky if he could escape for an hour or two to White’s. His relatives dogged him mercilessly; a measure arranged by Lady Victoria to make sure her reckless husband did not gamble too extensively or get into any trouble.

  In other words, to prevent him from having any adventures.

  Considering Archer’s past escapades, Lady Victoria might have her reasons for controlling her husband, but the thought of being managed and manipulated into a schedule dictated by a wife revolted Nathaniel.

  And all marriages ended up in a similar fashion, didn’t they? Most unions were desperately dull and stifled with routine.

  A quick, flickering glance at Charlotte’s flushed face made his resolve weaken momentarily. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad…. He gripped his teacup with both hands to keep from reaching over to lay his hand over hers.

  Then he remembered that thanks to women like Miss Haywood, he’d had to resort to using the unmarked, tattered carriage his family had owned before he inherited the dukedom. The damn thing had a foot-wide hole in the center of the floor. All the way to the Archer townhouse this morning, he’d had to brace his feet against the sides of the carriage and watch the cobbles below rush past through the gaping hole.

  He couldn’t even drive his gig anymore. There was always some female galloping up to him, hoping to be compromised.

  “Well, my dear, that is certainly exciting. And I understand how thrilling it would be to explore of past civilizations, but you are only twenty-one,” Lady Victoria pointed out. “Surely you can wait three years before traveling so far. And would it not be difficult to be alone in a strange land without friends or family?” Lady Victoria exchanged glances with her husband.

  Archer shook his head minutely, clearly unwilling to be the ogre who squashed his ward’s dreams.

  “England is the strange land for me,” Miss Haywood said. “I don’t belong here.”

  Lady Victoria reached over to pat Miss Haywood’s clasped hands. “Nonsense. You do belong here. We are your family now and we want you to stay. I have already applied to Almack’s to obtain a ticket for you for the last balls of the season, so enjoy yourself. Go to balls and dance, perhaps you will—”

  “I will what? Find someone to marry?” Miss Haywood sighed and Nathaniel saw the energy and life seep out of her eyes. Her voice dropped so low he doubted anyone else could heard her. “Why will no one listen to me? I just want to do something important—something I am interested in.” Then her voice became louder and more firm. “I have done quite a bit of study on my own. I can read several different languages, including Greek, Latin and Coptic. I am prepared, and it is what I want to do.”

  “But you are a fe—” he stopped abruptly. He felt slightly ashamed of himself, but he had to agree with Lady Victoria.

  Sooner or later, Miss Haywood would realize she was better off in London than Cairo. Even if one of the explorers she mentioned accepted her—and he had no doubt that someone with her assets would be acceptable— they would not protect her. White slavery was rampant. A tall, red-haired women with creamy white skin would be worth a great deal.

  No. She could not go. Not until she was no longer a young, tempting woman. When she became an eccentric old woman of sixty or so, whatever husband she managed to trap in the meantime could accompany her to Egypt. Not before.

  “I am a woman?” Miss Haywood offered, finishing Nathaniel’s sentence.

  “Well, yes.” When both women eyed him, he went on doggedly, “Of course, that does not mean you cannot participate in the excavations, but—”

  “But?”

  “You are still Uncle John’s ward for three more years. So you can just enjoy yourself. Perhaps continue your studies so you are better prepared.”

  Miss Haywood examined him and then nodded, however her lips were com
pressed as if she was holding back a sharp reply.

  “What about moths?” Nathaniel asked, trying to change the subject.

  “What about them?”

  “You are interested in them, are you not? That is why you were on the terrace last night, is it not?”

  “Yes. I have many interests. Lepidopterology is merely one of them.”

  “Then why don’t you pursue that one for the present? There is plenty of time to plan a trip to Egypt. You are very young.”

  “Young and energetic enough to make such a journey easily. Should I wait until I am too old to bear the inconveniences and rigors of travel?”

  “No, not at all. Simply give it time—give us time,” Lady Victoria interrupted. “Why, you have scarcely unpacked your trunks and already you wish to leave!”

  Crimson stained Miss Haywood’s cheeks. “I assure you, I did not mean—”

  “I understand.” Lady Victoria reached over and patted her hand. “We all have our dreams, don’t we?”

  Chapter Eleven

  It is the duty of the constabulary, on hearing of any case of sudden death, to enquire into the circumstances immediately. — Constable’s Pocket Guide

  He didn’t want to ruin Archer’s birthday, but Nathaniel felt an urgent need to think without the distracting presence of so many women. He stood up.

  “I apologize, but I am afraid I have an appointment in….” He glanced at the watch dangling from his pocket. “Well, I am late already, and you know how Jackson is— he will have given away my hour by now.”

  “Just a moment.” Archer stood and leaned over to give his wife a kiss on the cheek. She touched his face briefly with her fingertips, smiling up at him as he caught her hand and pressed another kiss into her palm. Releasing her hand, he said, “I need a walk. And I want to stop in at White’s for a moment.”

  “Don’t be long, John.” Lady Victoria replied, her eyes warm.

  On impulse, Nathaniel moved over to Miss Haywood and gently lifted her hand. Startled, she stared up at him, her lips parting as he bent his head. When his mouth touched the soft skin near her wrist, she jumped, trying to pull her hand back.