Louise M. Gouge

by A Lady of Quality

  “My darling, of course I forgive you.” He took her hand and led her to a settee. “We were both puppets dancing to Blakemore’s tune.” A minor chord resonated within his heart. “I am grieved to think he could not trust me enough to explain everything to me from the beginning.”

  “I asked the same question about my own situation. Lady Blakemore told me the Home Office was testing both of us and my father. An assassination plot against a king has greater consequences than a grievance between two families. Had it turned out to be genuine, Louis might never have made it back to France, and war might have erupted again between our two countries.” She dabbed at her tears with a silk handkerchief. “But I believe Mr. Radcliff was the puppeteer. How cleverly he used us both against each other, and all for revenge.”

  Hartley sighed. “Not so entirely clever, was he?”

  She shook her head and gazed off thoughtfully.

  “Well.” He touched her chin and returned her gaze to himself. “Enough of that. We have something else to discuss.”

  “Oh?”

  He slipped down on one knee and gripped both of her hands. “My dearest heart, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  Bursting into tears, she pulled back her hands and covered her face.

  “I—I am…” How could he have so completely misjudged her feelings? “Please forgive me—”

  “No, no.” She hiccoughed another sob. “I mean, yes, yes. I will marry you. Though after all I did, how can you want—”

  “Shh.” He placed a finger on her lips. “Do not say another word about it. I forgive you.” To seal the matter, he bent forward and at last succumbed to the temptation to place a kiss on her sweet, soft lips.

  *

  Catherine had never felt more beautiful. Her lady’s maid had once again coiffed her hair into a thousand elegant curls with tiny white silk roses woven throughout. Her bridal gown, a white brocade creation with dark pink lace and ribbons around the square neckline, and short, similarly trimmed puffy sleeves, had taken Giselle three weeks to make. Fortunately, the wedding could not take place until the banns had been cried for those same three weeks. Lady Blakemore had insisted upon being the hostess for the wedding breakfast, and she had invited Mama and Lady Winston to assist her. But first came the wedding.

  Catherine stood at the back of St. George’s Church with Papa at her side. At the front, Lord Hartley stood with Lords Greystone and Blakemore, awaiting her arrival. The music began, Papa squeezed her hand and they proceeded down the aisle. She was so grateful to have him to support her, for no matter how happy she was this day, her knees insisted upon trembling.

  As her gaze settled upon Lord Hartley, whom she had decided to call Hart, all nervousness subsided. How handsome he looked in his green velvet jacket, sparkling white shirt and cravat, and green satin breeches. His gray-green eyes caught the colors and sparkled brilliantly in the sunny church sanctuary. His untamable curly blond hair gave him that youthful look that she so adored. But it was his warm, welcoming smile that melted her heart and brought a tear to her eyes.

  Reading from the church’s prayer book, Mr. Richard Grenville conducted the wedding ceremony, and Catherine had every confidence that he and she and Hart said all the right words. But in the end, all she heard was the final phrase, which was followed by “in the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

  One day soon she must read the ritual over again and perhaps even memorize the wonderful holy words. For now, “I pronounce that they be man and wife together” was all she needed to hear. When Hart placed the gentlest, sweetest kiss upon her lips, she knew she was utterly and completely happily married.

  Epilogue

  “En garde.” Catherine positioned herself for a duel, feet set apart and one hand lifted behind her for balance, her slender walking stick raised in a challenge to Hart.

  After a long winter, the fresh spring air of Surrey invited them out for daily walks over the hills surrounding their country home. When they had come from London last August, she had been surprised to see not a recently built manor house but a beautiful, ancient castle where she would live with her beloved the rest of her days.

  Now delicate violets and exquisite pink primroses filled the April air with their lovely scents, while countless birdsongs sounded in the nearby woods. A few feet away, Crumpet chased a butterfly, only to land in the clear spring bubbling out from a small mound of rocks on the hill. These merry signs of spring sparked in Catherine this bit of dueling mischief.

  “Mais non, madame.” Hart’s green eyes twinkled in the sunlight as he lifted his cane—this one without a hidden sword. “Vous en garde.”

  So he meant to launch the first attack. Catherine smirked. “Très bien, monsieur. Proceed.” Expecting a direct lunge, she prepared to deflect his assault. Instead, he pointed his make-believe sword at her and circled it in the air so she could not guess his next move.

  With a giggle, she backed away but tripped on a protruding root. As she staggered to keep from falling, alarm shot through her. She must not fall! Hart dropped his cane and caught her around the waist just in time, rolling onto the soft grass so she would land on top of him.

  “Oof!” He flung his arms wide, then lay limp on the ground, obviously feigning injury.

  Catherine rolled off him and placed her head upon his shoulder. “I shall lie here until you awaken.”

  He exhaled a deep sigh of contentment. “That may not be until August.”

  She sat up and nudged his side. “What? And miss an entire session of Parliament? An entire Season?” Not that she cared at all for Society, but she would like to see her friends again after all these months.

  “If I never had to participate in another parliamentary debate, I would be pleased beyond measure.”

  She sat up, plucked a blade of grass and tickled his upper lip. “You do not mean that.”

  “Only a little.” He sat up and snatched the blade to return the favor, then gave her a peck of a kiss. Later she would demand much more from him. “I may have rejected my father’s harsh view of God, but I still take my responsibilities seriously. All of them.”

  She sobered. “I know you do. You have been so good to Emily and Marcus since Mr. Radcliff died.” She could not think of that man without a shudder.

  Hart pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead. “I will always grieve over his death.” The haunted look in his eyes hinted at a deep remorse.

  “It was not your fault. We are told that these horrible fevers often sweep through prisons. He did not have a strong constitution.”

  Hart waved a dismissive hand, perhaps still wrestling with his unnecessary guilt. “I must make certain to spend time with young Marcus before he goes to Eton. I want him to know he will always have a special place in our family.” Hart plucked another blade of grass and chewed on its end. “Perhaps I can influence him for the good. As my heir, he—”

  “Well, I do agree we should continue to support his mother and him.” She gave him a sly look. “But, as to his being your heir, it is entirely possible that he will soon be supplanted by a little Lord Winston. Shall we say, before All Saints’ Day?”

  “What?” Hart’s eyes grew round, and his jaw dropped. “Are you… Will we… I am going to be a father?” The excitement in his countenance gave him that adorable youthful look she loved so much, but not without a decided infusion of maturity he had sported of late.

  Catherine laughed for joy. “Indeed you are, my dearest Hart.”

  “My dearest heart.” He gently pushed her back down on the grass for a celebratory kiss.

  As delicious warmth swept over her entire being, she lifted a prayer of thanks to God for the path he had brought them on. Not a path of hate and revenge, but of love and forgiveness and a grace that promised never to end.

  *

  If you enjoyed this story by Louise M. Gouge,

  be sure to check out the other books this month

  from Love Inspired
Historical!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from The Baby Compromise by Linda Ford.

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for choosing A Lady of Quality, the third book in my Ladies in Waiting series. I hope you’ve enjoyed this journey back to Regency England. I love to write stories about this unique and fascinating era, the setting for Jane Austen’s timeless novels. One of the most appealing things about it is that everyone knew exactly what was expected for someone in her or his station in life, and diligent people strove to play their roles well. Still, love could always find a way to overcome the rules of Society, at least in fiction!

  My stories take place in 1814, at the end of the war with Napoleon. It was a time of great upheaval in England, but also a time when ambitious men could take advantage of the changes. King George III had gone mad, and his eldest son, the heir to the throne, had been designated Prince Regent by Parliament. That empowered him to do everything a king could do, including the signing of a writ of patent creating a new peer or elevating a peer to a higher level of the nobility. When I learn such an interesting historical fact, I love to incorporate it into my stories.

  Getting the details right, however, is one of the tricky things about writing historical fiction. The social structures of the Regency era were quite strict and confining, so if you’re a die-hard Regency fan and find an error, please let me know! And please know that I tried to get it right!

  As with all of my stories, beyond the romance, I hope to inspire my readers always to seek God’s guidance, no matter what trials may come their way.

  I love to hear from readers, so if you have a comment, please contact me through my website:

  http://blog.Louisemgouge.com.

  Blessings,

  Louise M. Gouge

  Questions for Discussion

  In the beginning of the story, Lord Winston is searching for a suitable wife to enhance his diplomatic career. What makes him change his mind and begin looking for a wife to love?

  From the instant Winston sees Catherine Hart, he is smitten by her beauty and grace. Why does he try not to become too attached to her? Do you think he is justified in that response, considering the expectations of the era? How do you think this reflects upon his character? What causes him to change his opinion over time?

  Catherine had grown up in a loving Christian home and, as the oldest child, has always felt responsible for protecting her younger brother and sister and setting a good example for them. What causes her to go against everything she believes in order to get revenge? Is this consistent with her character? Have you ever suffered loss and felt as Catherine did?

  After meeting Winston at the ball and finding him to be a kind, thoughtful gentleman, Catherine struggles not to fall in love with him. What forces work against her natural inclinations and poison the evidence of her eyes and heart? Have you ever misjudged a person because of some previous prejudice or misinformation?

  Winston also grew up in a home where Christian principles were taught. How did his family differ from Catherine’s? How did this affect the development of his character? How did he come to reject his father’s example? Who helped him? Have you ever sought help from a spiritual advisor in understanding the character of God?

  Both Winston and Catherine are Christians. Which one changes the most in the story? In what ways does each one mature and become stronger? In what ways do they stay the same?

  Sometimes Winston seems a little naive. Why hasn’t he had an opportunity to learn about romance? Does he fit your definition of a hero? Why or why not?

  Have you ever been certain you knew the truth about a person or situation, only to find that your sources were incorrect? How did you react? What did you learn?

  Well-bred young ladies of the Regency era were expected to be more ornamental than assertive, but Catherine has gone against the expectations of her era in learning to fence and ride. How does this serve to make her a stronger character? Do you find her a compelling heroine? Why or why not?

  What sort of people are Lord and Lady Blakemore? Why do you suppose they involve themselves in the lives of Winston and Catherine? Have you ever had a mentor? How did this person help you choose your path in life? Have you ever mentored someone else?

  The overarching themes of this story are revenge and forgiveness, two sides of the same coin. How did Catherine and Winston work through their own issues? How could each one of them have taken an easier path to resolving their issues?

  This was an age in which the aristocracy ruled and held all of the privileges. As much as we romanticize the era, would you like to travel back in time for a visit? At what level of Society did your ancestors live?

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Historical title.

  You find illumination in days gone by. Love Inspired Historical stories lift the spirit as heroines tackle the challenges of life in another era with hope, faith and a focus on family.

  Enjoy four new stories from Love Inspired Historical every month!

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  Chapter One

  Evans Grove, Nebraska

  Late May, 1875

  One day. He could spare one day away from home. He owed it to the people of Evans Grove to help with the construction of the town’s new orphanage. A single day wasn’t much, but it was something. The orphans rescued from the clutches of Felix Baxter deserved a safe place to call home.

  But still, twenty-eight-year-old Colton Hayes paused at the door as he planted his favorite black cowboy hat firmly on his head.

  “Ma, Pa, you’ll be okay until I get back?” He didn’t like to leave them alone.

  “Those poor children need the orphanage as soon as they can get it,” Pa said. “You go do what you can to help.”

  “I’ll try to make supper.” Ma had her long-suffering tone down to a fine art. Not that she didn’t have cause. Bearing him late in life had overtaxed her heart. From a young age, he’d done all he could to ease her burden.

  “Don’t worry about it, Ma. I’ll make something when I get back. You two just take care of yourselves.” He’d be hungry after a day of work, but he had pork chops in the icebox. He’d learned long ago to boil potatoes in their jackets to save time.

  “Pa, you need anything?”

  “I’m fine, son.” And to prove it, he pushed up from his chair.

  Before he could hobble more than a step, Colton leaped forward to take the cup from his trembling hands. Since his accident three years ago, Pa lived in constant pain that made walking almost impossible.

  Knowing his stupidity had caused Pa’s injuries twisted Colton’s insides. He silently vowed yet again to take care of him the rest of his life.

  Colton filled the cup and carried it back to the table beside Pa’s chair. “I’ve left soup on the stove. Ma, can you see that Pa gets a bowl of it?” He really should stay home and make sure they were both safe.

  Ma sighed. “I ’spect I can manage, though I’ve been feeling poorly these past days.” She pressed a hand to her chest.

  Colton studied her. Did pain deepen the lines on her face?

  She waved wearily. “You go ahead. We’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll be back later.” Still he hesitated, torn between his parents’ needs and the building project. “Seems we should help the community as much as we’re able,” he said, reminding himself why he’d made the commitment away from home. “After all, God spared us from the devastation of the flood.” A storm in the spring had caused the nearby dam to break, flooding the town, damaging many of the homes and businesses, and causing several deaths. Then, in hopes of ensnaring mor
e children for his child-labor schemes, Baxter had started a fire that destroyed the school. Thankfully, his attempt to implicate the local orphans so the citizens of Evans Grove would send the children to Greenville had failed. The townspeople were pulling together to rebuild. Colton owed it to them to lend a hand.

  Pa settled back in his chair with a muffled groan. “God truly spared us.” He lifted his hand in a half wave. “You go help out where you’re needed.”

  Colton closed the door quietly, then turned toward town. One day to work. Then he’d be back home, taking care of his responsibilities.

  He swung into the saddle and rode the few miles to town. He passed familiar homes, called a greeting to Mr. Gavin as he passed the general store. Like many of the homes and businesses in town, it still bore the mark of the high water of the flood.

  He continued onward to the raw frame of the orphanage. Once it was finished, it would be a two-story structure with bedrooms upstairs for the children and staff. Rooms on the main floor would be used for daytime activity.

  Strange. No one had arrived to work yet. He understood that men had volunteered and were scheduled to show up on specific days. Just as he had signed up to work today.

  He studied the shell of the building. Wasn’t there supposed to be a stack of lumber nearby? Bought and paid for by the generous, yet anonymous, donor funding the project? The gift had everyone talking and guessing as to who the donor might be.

  It would be interesting to know who had enough money to fund two building projects—both the orphanage and the school. But unless men showed up to work, the money would benefit no one.

  He slipped from his horse, tied the reins to the nearest post and continued his inspection on foot.

  As far as he could tell, there’d been nothing done since his last visit to town three days ago. He scratched his head. Moreover, it appeared as if someone had tried to knock out part of the framework where the front door would be. Was there something wrong with the work? He examined the braces and could see no flaw in the construction. Strange.