Regency Romance Collection From Christina Courtenay

by Christina Courtenay

  It was true that his first foray into the married state had been a disaster and he’d sworn not to repeat that mistake, but he thought there may come a time when he felt differently. Caroline was taking too much for granted. He clenched his jaw in determination and came to a swift decision. Now that Robert no longer lived at Wyckeham Hall, there was really no need for Caroline to remain either. As the only woman in the household, he’d given her leave to run things as she saw fit with the help of his housekeeper, never quibbling about any expense, no matter how vast. During the last year, however, he had noted several instances of downright mistreatment of his servants and the time had come for him to put his foot down. She was becoming insufferable and she had to go.

  Making a mental note to speak to his steward about having the Dower House refurbished as quickly as possible so Caroline could be moved there, he turned his thoughts back to her initial demand – that he take Rob to London to find a bride. Although his brother may not be ready for such a big step as yet, perhaps it wasn’t a bad idea to take him to the capital for some town bronze, as she had suggested. As his closest relative and possible future marquess (he emphasised the word ‘possible’ in his thoughts with another unconscious clenching of his jaw), Rob could not be allowed to turn into too much of a country bumpkin, after all.

  ‘Very well, I will take him to London,’ he said after thinking it over for a moment longer. ‘I have to go there on a business matter anyway, but don’t expect any miracles. At that age, he’s bound to fall in love with someone unsuitable no matter where he is, take my word for it.’

  And I should know, he thought to himself. He hadn’t listened to any warnings about his own marriage, had thought himself grown up and in control. He sighed inwardly once more. He would just have to make sure Robert was prevented from making the same mistake, forcibly if necessary.

  That kind of union I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘Ianthe, why do you not make yourself useful for a change and fetch us some lemonade instead of propping up that pillar. Upon my word, you look very ill-bred lounging like that.’

  Miss Ianthe Templeton dragged her gaze away from the dance floor and frowned in her mother’s direction, but the latter had already turned away, secure in the knowledge that her daughter would do her bidding. After all, it wasn’t as if she had anything else to do, since no one was asking her to dance. Trying valiantly not to scowl, Ianthe made her way towards the refreshment table set up in a room adjoining the ballroom. She tamped down thoughts of rebellion. It may be a singular honour to have been given vouchers for Almack’s, but she for one would rather have stayed at home with a good book.

  She sighed, collected two glasses of the weak lemonade that tasted of nothing so much as dishwater, and returned to her mother. ‘Here you are, Mama, the patronesses’ idea of refreshment, as you requested.’

  ‘Don’t be impertinent. I’m sure it’s perfectly adequate. You may hold on to Serena’s until she has finished dancing with Lord Somerville.’

  Lady Templeton barely glanced at Ianthe. Her eyes were focused on the dance floor, where Ianthe’s twin sister, a young lady of exceptional beauty, was partnering the most eligible bachelor in the room, the Earl of Somerville. It was a sight to gladden any fond mama’s heart, but this one in particular, thought Ianthe somewhat uncharitably. She knew Lady Templeton wanted her daughters married into the highest echelons of society, and at present there was no one higher than his lordship available on the marriage mart. The fact that he was also handsome, albeit in a rather flamboyant way, merely added to his charm.

  Ianthe suppressed another sigh. For herself, she would have been happy to receive an offer from any eligible gentleman, so long as he promised to take her away from London and the mindless entertainments offered there. But since no one was even asking her to dance, this didn’t seem a very likely scenario. Early on in the season she had acquired a reputation as a bluestocking, having unwisely mentioned a book on philosophy to a young man whose only interest was in horses and fisticuffs. The gossips picked up on this with glee. Since she and Serena were not identical twins, she didn’t have her sister’s good looks with which to mitigate such a deplorable tendency. From that moment on, her chances of making a good match had shrunk to almost none.

  She wondered for the umpteenth time why her mother had even brought her to Almack’s. The patronesses only included Ianthe in their invitation as an afterthought. It was Serena they really wanted, since she was the current belle of the season.

  The dance came to an end and Serena was escorted back to her mama by the earl.

  ‘I shall procure you some lemonade, Miss Templeton,’ he announced, and Ianthe’s protest was cut short by a quelling look from her mother.

  ‘How very kind. I’m sure Serena must be exceedingly thirsty after all that dancing.’ Ianthe turned away in order to hide her moue of distaste at her mother’s simpering. She knew she ought not to criticise her parent, but honestly, she was so transparent. If it wasn’t for the fact that Serena was so lovely, no doubt the earl would have fled long before now. After all, who would want to be saddled with someone like Lady Templeton for a mother-in-law?

  To pass the time, Ianthe took a sip of the lemonade that was now hers and almost spat it out again. Not only did it taste awful, but it was lukewarm into the bargain. Surreptitiously, she placed the glass on the floor behind a large pot plant and returned to lean on the pillar once more.

  Serena had now been joined by two of her best friends. The trio were awaiting Lord Somerville’s return with much giggling and fluttering of fans, when suddenly a collective gasp went through the crowded room and a momentary hush fell. All eyes turned to the door, where two latecomers had only just made it through the hallowed portals before the cut-off time of eleven o’clock. No one, not even the Prince Regent himself, would have been allowed in after that time. The doors swung shut behind them and the older of the two men stopped to survey the crowd with a sardonic lift of one eyebrow. Fierce whispering broke out on all sides, but he ignored it and bowed to the patroness on duty that evening, Lady Sally Jersey, obviously introducing the younger man to her.

  ‘Who is that, Mama?’ Serena whispered, uttering the question that had been hovering on Ianthe’s tongue. ‘He looks … dangerous.’

  Lady Templeton gave a little shudder. ‘Indeed and so he should. It is none other than the Marquess of Wyckeham. “Lord Wicked” they call him, because he murdered his wife. I am surprised he dares to show his face here.’

  Serena gasped, but one of her companions was made of sterner stuff. ‘Surely it was never proven, Lady Templeton, and he wasn’t charged with anything. Didn’t she fall down the stairs? An unfortunate accident, I was told.’

  ‘Pushed, more likely,’ her ladyship sniffed. ‘It was a well-known fact they didn’t get along and when she couldn’t produce the requisite heir …’ She left the sentence hanging, waiting for her young audience to draw their own conclusion.

  ‘Really, Mama, you shouldn’t repeat such gossip. Someone might hear you and accuse you of slander,’ Ianthe protested, but she found herself intrigued nonetheless.

  Staring at the marquess from across the room, she could well understand why people might think him capable of murder. With his sharp features and dressed all in black, apart from a snowy cravat tied in an intricate pattern, he did indeed look formidable. His clothes merely served to accentuate the excellent physique and hidden strength that so obviously lay underneath. The man exuded a latent power, like a big cat waiting to pounce. But as his gaze swept the room and briefly connected with hers, Ianthe glimpsed fierce intelligence and lazy amusement, rather than any menace. Her mother had to be wrong.

  ‘I’ll thank you to keep your advice to yourself, young lady,’ Lady Templeton grumbled. ‘I know what I know, and you’ll not convince me otherwise. And stop lounging, for heaven’s sake! It’s no wonder no one’s dancing with you. You look like nothing so much as a hay sack.’


  Ianthe gritted her teeth and turned away to hide her anger. If only she could escape, but there were still six weeks of the season to go and her mother and sister were determined to remain until the very end.

  ‘Shh, Mama, they’re coming this way,’ Serena hissed, and composed her features, fixing a small smile on her face to show off the dimples either side of her mouth. ‘And since a marquess is higher than an earl, who cares what he’s done.’

  Ianthe disapproved strongly of such a calculated way of looking at a man. To overlook his peccadilloes simply because of rank seemed to her the outside of enough.

  But who am I to judge? She would never get the chance to choose between a marquess and an earl, so it didn’t matter one jot to her. Still, she couldn’t suppress an urge to look at the man again. He fascinated her. Perhaps he was a conjurer instead of a murderer? She stifled a gurgle of laughter at her own silliness. Really, she must stop reading gothic tales, they were putting strange thoughts into her head.

  Jason waited patiently while Lady Jersey interrogated his half-brother as to his prospects, intentions, and general likes and dislikes. Robert was a kind young man and replied as best he could, but when he shot his brother a glance that was a distinct plea for help, Jason deemed it time to intervene.

  ‘Sally, my dear, do stop chattering and perform your duty by introducing Robert to some suitable dancing partners. Do you see anyone you fancy the look of in particular, Rob?’ he asked.

  Robert scanned the crowd, as did Jason, and by coincidence their eyes alighted on the same group of women, seated in the centre of the one wall. ‘That dark beauty over there, is she spoken for?’

  Lady Jersey craned her neck to see where he was looking. ‘Well, as good as, but you never know your luck. That’s the Templeton chit, or chits I should say. There’s two of them, but only one worth having. Not a penny to her name, but a diamond of the first water. She’s got the Earl of Somerville eating out of her hand.’

  ‘You said there were two?’ Jason prompted, his gaze on quite a different lady. One who did not appear to be enjoying the evening’s entertainment at all, which was unusual for someone so young.

  ‘What? Oh, yes, she has a twin sister. Not identical in any respect, a bluestocking by all accounts. Equally poor, so no point courting her either unless you like bookish females, which you didn’t last I heard.’ Lady Jersey chuckled to herself and Jason swallowed a sharp retort. She must be referring to his last mistress, who had been incredibly beautiful but as dim as they came. Jason doubted if Alice even knew how to read. Perhaps that was part of the reason why he’d lost interest in her so quickly and had finished with her some months past.

  ‘Will you introduce us to the Templetons, please?’ he asked curtly.

  ‘By all means. Follow me.’

  Lady Jersey set off through the throng, which parted like the Red Sea had done for Moses. Jason hid a smile at this sight, marvelling at the power of Almack’s patronesses. No one wished to antagonise them in any way, lest they were barred from attending.

  The crowd had no such scruples when it came to himself, he noticed. Jason watched with secret amusement as several people glared at him and whispered to their friends, as if they resented the presence amongst them of a man reputed to be a murderer. Others stared openly, obviously trying to decide whether he might be guilty or not. He barely glanced at them. Let them believe I murdered Elizabeth if they like. He didn’t give a fig what others thought. These people can go to the devil for all I care.

  The clusters of people shifted and he espied again the young lady who had caught his eye earlier. She was still leaning against a pillar, her arms crossed under her bosom, which was shapely enough, but not quite as ample as that of the dark beauty seated next to her. As he continued to walk towards them, he glanced at the so called ‘diamond of the first water’ for a moment in order to compare the two further. They both had dark hair, so black it was almost blue, but whereas the beauty had had hers fashioned into an intricate coiffure, the girl by the pillar wore a simple top knot which seemed to be coming undone since there were wisps of hair falling down either side of her face.

  Both had large blue eyes fringed by long sooty lashes, but there the similarities ended. The prettier one had a tiny retroussé nose and a rosebud mouth framed by dimples. The other girl’s nose was long and aquiline, her mouth more generous with only a hint of a dimple on one side. As Jason registered the smile fixed on the beauty’s rosy lips, however, he realised how utterly false it was. With an imperceptible shake of his head he returned his gaze to his original quarry, the girl by the pillar.

  Lady Jersey stopped in front of the party. ‘Ladies, may I introduce Lord Wyckeham and his brother, Lord Robert Warwycke. Gentlemen, this is Lady Templeton, Miss Serena Templeton, her sister Miss Ianthe, and Miss Gardiner and her sister Miss Anne.’

  Everyone bowed or curtseyed as required, and Lady Jersey engaged Lady Templeton in a brief conversation while Robert bowed over Miss Templeton’s hand and asked for a dance. She glanced at Jason, as if hoping to entice him on to the floor with her first, but when he pretended not to notice and remained silent, she replied, ‘Well, I do believe my card is full, sir, but perhaps I could ask one of my partners to allow you to cut in.’ With an imperious finger, she beckoned some hapless youth who had been hovering nearby, waiting for his dance.

  ‘Osterly, you wouldn’t mind missing a dance with me, would you?’

  It wasn’t really a question, and she didn’t bother to wait for the poor gentleman’s reply before standing up and placing her hand on Robert’s arm. ‘Shall we?’ She flashed her dimples at him and at Jason, adding an extra flutter of her eyelashes at the latter, then swept on to the dance floor. Jason understood immediately that she was only dancing with Robert in order to further her acquaintance with a marquess, and he sighed inwardly. By the look in Robert’s eyes, he’d fallen hard and fast, but without a title he would have no luck with the likes of Miss Serena Templeton. It would all end in tears. How very tiresome, to be sure.

  Rob would be much better off with the other sister, Jason thought. Obviously not one of the usual simpering misses, she would no doubt make an excellent wife. He decided to try and steer his brother her way once Miss Templeton dashed his hopes, which hopefully shouldn’t take too long.

  He turned his attention away from the dancing couple and glanced again at the sister. Miss Ianthe was taller and she was wearing a most ill-fitting dress which gave the impression that she had simply thrown on whatever came out of her wardrobe first. It was only because the material was slightly diaphanous and she was standing with light behind her that he could make out her true shape, which was very pleasing. Without such help, she would have looked a complete dowd, but she was no such thing, he realised.

  Turning to her, instead of the two other young ladies who had been waiting for him to choose one of them, he bowed and said, ‘May I have this dance, Miss Ianthe?’

  She blinked in surprise, her eyebrows rising a fraction, but she remained calm and he thought he saw an expression of regret flit across her features.

  ‘With me? Oh, I am sorry, my lord, but unlike my sister, I’m afraid I have not been granted permission to dance the waltz. I am sure there are other ladies who could oblige you.’ She glanced pointedly at the two seated girls, but Jason ignored this.

  Catching the eye of the patroness, who had by now moved on to gossip with someone else, he crooked his finger and Lady Jersey immediately made her way back to him. Several people watched this in open-mouthed surprise, the stout Lady Templeton included. Jason reflected that they didn’t know Sally the way he did – her curiosity alone would have made her do his bidding in this instance as no doubt she scented a juicy piece of gossip.

  ‘My lord?’ she enquired, sounding slightly breathless with anticipation.

  ‘Apologies for interrupting your no doubt scintillating conversation with Lord Albemarle, but I would be vastly obliged if you could give Miss Ianthe permission to waltz with me?’


  ‘But of course.’ Lady Jersey nodded to them both, a speculative gleam in her eyes, then turned away with a smile.

  He held out his arm to Miss Ianthe, and without a word, she put her hand on top of it. He swept her into the dance with effortless grace, despite the fact that it was a while since he had last performed it. He knew himself to be a good dancer, and was pleasantly surprised when Miss Ianthe matched his steps without too much trouble.

  ‘You dance well,’ he commented. ‘Is this not your first time?’

  ‘Yes, but I have only to follow you. It seems simple enough.’

  He didn’t tell her many ladies found that beyond their capabilities and his toes had suffered accordingly on several occasions. Instead, he enjoyed the feel of her in his arms as he twirled her expertly around. There was only the slightest of contact between them, where his hand held hers and the other rested lightly on her back, but it was considered very risqué and for the first time he understood why. Despite the minimal friction, he was surprised to find that he was extremely aware of her as a woman and judging by her heightened colour, she was experiencing similar feelings of acute awareness. In fact, there was a veritable electric current between them that he simply couldn’t ignore.

  This thought made him almost falter in his steps. What was this? He had only danced with her in order to be able to further his brother’s suit. He wasn’t supposed to be attracted to her himself. He shook himself mentally and took a deep breath. He didn’t want a wife, and certainly not a chit only just out of the school room. It simply wouldn’t do.

  But his body was telling him otherwise.

  Damnation.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Ianthe tried to breathe normally, but found it increasingly difficult with Lord Wyckeham so near. A strange energy seemed to be passing through his fingertips into hers and snaking its way up her arm, and although she tried not to look at him, her gaze was drawn to his time and again. He had brown eyes, she noticed, but they were such a light brown, it was almost like looking through clear honey, which was very disconcerting. And they contrasted in the most fascinating way with his almost white-blond hair, which he wore long and tied back with a simple black ribbon.