The Captain of Her Betrayed Heart: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Abigail Agar

  “Will you not be talking to Henry tonight?” Gwyn asked in confusion.

  Lady Stanton shook her head. “No. He went to London to handle some business on behalf of his father, but he should be back tomorrow.”

  Gwyn knew Henry had a head for business, but the idea that the man would be handling his father’s business affair surprised her. Then again, Gwyn chided herself, perhaps she needed to stop thinking of Henry as that petulant child and more as the man he was today. He had saved her from an even bigger disgrace, perhaps. Gwyn said contemplatively, “I would be delighted to come to luncheon tomorrow. I am afraid that I have not been fair to Henry all these weeks since my return. I would be glad to meet the man on new ground and start again as the adults we are and not the children we were.”

  “Splendid,” Lady Stanton said with a pleased smile. “I will definitely pass that information along to the Duke and Duchess.” Lady Stanton laughed softly and confided in Gwyn, “I really do find it very odd to call them that. They have never wanted their titles used much between the families.”

  Gwyn nodded with a smile. “I have a hard time even remembering that Lord Shelton is really Duke. It used to take a force of will to remember to call them by proper names when talking to Sergeant Chavers,” Gwyn said, and her smile faded at the thought of the sergeant.

  “Do not fret over that ruffian,” Lady Stanton said. “He will no doubt be back in India soon, and you will be Duchess. I think that far more fitting.”

  ***

  The next day, Gwyn sat nervously at the kitchen table eating a light breakfast of fig jam and buttered bread. Today she would go speak with the Duke, Duchess, and Henry. Her mother had returned home quite pleased from her meal with the Duke and Duchess, but Gwyn was still on edge that something would happen, even if she could admit to herself that that was foolish at best.

  “Ah, Gwyneth, there you are,” Lady Stanton said as she bustled into the room. The woman’s layered dress with birds in flight across it was quite fanciful, even for her mother, Gwyn thought. The woman peered over at Gwyn’s breakfast. “Remember not to eat too much. Lydia likes long luncheons.”

  Gwyn nodded. “I remember,” she assured her mother. “You were looking for me?”

  Lady Stanton nodded. “Yes, I have had Adrienne lay out your lovely pale blue dress. If you would like to choose another, please choose a colour pleasing to Lydia.”

  “I think the blue dress is a lovely choice,” Gwyn said honestly. “I think I will go take a nap before I have to get ready to leave.”

  Lady Stanton enquired with a concerned look, “Are you not feeling well?”

  “I feel fine; I am just tired. I think the last few weeks have just taken their toll. Coming home has been less happy than I thought, and stress seems to abound,” Gwyn said as she stood up.

  Gwyn’s mother nodded her head and said, “Then have your nap. I have to go see about your father. I will call upon you when it is time to leave.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Gwyn said softly before going upstairs.

  The walk to her room was quiet, and Gwyn’s mind wandered back to the conversation with Jack on the bridge and the one on the patio in the gardens. Finding out the contents of Jack’s journal had undermined her own confidence in her choices. The very world itself seemed to be riddled with holes and discrepancies. People were no longer trustworthy and to be taken as they appeared.

  Gwyn twisted the knob to her room and entered to find the blue dress laid out over her bed. She stood and eyed it for a bit. It was a darling dress of blue silk with a comfortable empire waist that her mother knew Gwyn preferred. It was a dress that her mother had picked out for her to wear to social events originally, but the dress was perfect for dinner as well.

  Picking up the dress carefully, Gwyn hung it over her softly overstuffed wooden desk chair. “Maybe it will not get wrinkled here,” she said softly to herself. She stretched her arms and yawned. The bed certainly did look inviting.

  Gwyn walked over instead to her desk and got the journal from where she had stashed it. She would soon have to give the journal to her mother who would, in turn, give it to the Duke and Duchess. She had no doubt that the Duke had already sent a letter to Jack, although Gwyn doubted that it had reached him as the man had gone to the Caribbean.

  She thumbed through the journal back to entries from when they were younger. She smiled at some of the memories the entries brought to her but quickly frowned and closed the journal. It did no good to hold onto such frivolous feelings, Gwyn reminded herself. Jack and she had grown up next to one another, and Gwyn, with her newfound knowledge of the man, had to assume that Jack had simply seen her as a fine sport, a pretty plaything that he could amuse himself with when no other sport was around.

  Gwyn set the journal down on her desk. She walked over to her bed and dropped onto it unceremoniously. If she were to rest, then she needed to do it. It would be time to go to the luncheon in a few hours, and it would take a considerable amount of time to get ready. Gwyn sighed up at the ceiling in her room with its familiar lines and soft white paint. Slowly, her eyes closed, and she sank into sleep weighed down by the doubts that plagued her still.

  As much as she tried to hide it and do what she thought was best for her family, Gwyn still doubted the words in the journal, the words of others, and most of all her own heart. She needed to be strong, but she could do little more than lean on her mother’s wisdom and just do as the woman said.

  ***

  The luncheon table of Duchess Lydia Shelton was always a glorious thing to behold, but Gwyn thought the woman had gone above and beyond with the table presented to Gwyn and her mother on their arrival. Flowers spilled over the sides of a vase in a display that made Gwyn long to run through a summer’s meadow. A young woman in a crisp white apron and bonnet offered them tea from a silver tray that was placed down gently on the table.

  Gwyn eagerly accepted. The tea smelled of warm lemon and ginger. A moment after their arrival, Lady Shelton swept into the room and held out her arms as if to embrace both Gwyn and her mother. “Here they are, the Stanton women. Soon, hopefully,” Lady Shelton added the last word to Gwyn with a smile before continuing, “we will be closer than just similar sire names.” The woman in the crisp white robe offered Lady Shelton a cup of tea which she graciously accepted as she took her seat at the head of the table. “Here is to renewed friendships and mending old wounds,” Lady Shelton said, holding up her teacup as if giving a toast at a dinner party.

  Gwyn and her mother followed the Duchess’ example and raised their teacups as well. Lady Stanton said, “Indeed, Lydia. Although this is not the first time we have sought to combine our two houses, I certainly hope it is beneficial for both of our families.”

  “I think Gwyn will make a wonderful Duchess,” Lady Shelton said as she looked over at Gwyn who was sipping her tea. “Your mother has spoken to you, certainly, about why you are here?”

  Gwyn nodded as she set down her tea. She swallowed her mouthful of tea and said, “Oh yes, Duchess. She has.”

  “None of that Duchess nonsense,” Lady Shelton scolded. “I have always been merely Lady Shelton, and I shall remain so to you. Besides before long, you will be the Duchess.”

  Gwyn blushed and folded her hands in her lap uncomfortably. “As you say,” Gwyn said softly.

  “Is she not just precious?” Lady Shelton asked Gwyn’s mother who nodded her agreement with a pleased smile at Gwyn.

  Gwyn wished suddenly that the earth below her would swallow her up, but she felt no tremble of the ground and resigned herself to her fate. She picked her teacup back up and tried her best to ignore the two older women beaming at her. Lady Stanton eventually said, “Gwyn is agreeable to our plans. Having read the journal herself, she has had a change of heart about Henry. Have you not, Gwyneth?”

  “Yes,” Gwyn nodded fervently. “I do feel that I have done him a disservice over the years by believing everything Jack told me blindly. It is a slight that I would like to do my b
est to correct.”

  Lady Shelton nodded with Gwyn and said gently, “Having talked to Henry, I find that I too have judged him wrongly. His father is most displeased with the turn of events concerning Jack. We are beside ourselves that our family has landed you in such straits, Gwyn. We have always held you with fondness.”

  “We have brought the journal with us,” Lady Stanton said as she looked over at Gwyn.

  Gwyn nervously stood up and said, “It is in the carriage. I shall just run and get it, shall I? In my haste, I forgot it on the seat.”

  “Nonsense, it will already be pulled around to the stables by now. I shall have one of the boys run to get it.” Lady Stanton nodded to the girl in the crisp white apron who stood at the ready by the table. The young woman hurried over and pulled a cord on the wall. A moment later, a young man came into the room. Lady Stanton said to the young man, “Lady Stanton has left a leather book on the seat of her carriage. Would you please run out and fetch it?” The young man nodded and was off again at once. “We shall have it shortly. Please enjoy your tea.”

  Gwyn, who had forgotten to sit down as she watched the events unfold, sat back down feeling sheepish. She sipped her tea and let her mother and Lady Shelton talk as if she were not there. It really was their match to make, after all, Gwyn reasoned. She and Henry were already well accounted, and it was merely a formality to have the betrothal set between them.

  It still felt odd to consider a betrothal with Henry. They had fought so much growing up that Gwyn had always treated him as more of the villain of the story than her friend. It was perhaps time to view the man as something more, and Gwyn vowed that she would not be deceived again.

  Chapter 10

  The luncheon with Lady Shelton lasted longer than any of them intended. Before they were through chatting, the men had returned from whatever business they had been conducting in London. Lord Shelton came into the dining hall with booming laughter much to the ladies’ surprise.

  “I did not expect to see you all still at luncheon, my dear. Have your luncheons surpassed even their previous records?” Lord Shelton asked his wife with humour and affection.

  Lady Shelton waved off the man’s laughter. “It would appear that they have, although we have been doing more talking than eating.”

  “No wonder that some men have clamoured for muzzles for the fairer sex, eh?” Lord Shelton asked Henry who came up beside his father.

  Henry frowned at his father. “Father, I do not think you should be talking so in front of the ladies.”

  “Already he is more Duke than you,” Lady Shelton said as she gave Henry a look of approval.

  Lord Shelton scoffed, “He has a lot to learn, but yes, I should not have spoken so in front of our treasured guests. Forgive me, ladies.”

  “It is quite okay, Lord Shelton,” Gwyn said affectionately. The man had been like a second father growing up, and Gwyn could hold no grudge against the man for his ill-considered humour. “So long as you acknowledge that perhaps a muzzle for the gentlemen might be considered as well for just such occasions.”

  Lord Shelton’s laughter once again boomed out as he slapped his leg. “Indeed, Gwyneth! Fair point that,” Lord Shelton agreed. “We shall leave you ladies to your doings.”

  “Are you not going to eat?” Lady Shelton asked.

  Henry interceded, “We stopped at the pub and had a bite in London. We were not expecting to have any food left in the house.”

  Lady Shelton pursed her lips and shook her head. “Gentlemen and their pubs,” the woman muttered disapprovingly.

  “Ian used to love them as well. I am afraid it is simply something too strong to fight, Lydia,” Lady Stanton said with a smile at her friend.

  Lord Shelton merely smiled at his wife. Luckily for him, Lady Shelton seemed resigned to the man’s behaviour and shooed him off to his study. “Go on and smoke your cigars and drink your brandy.” Lord Shelton did not need to be told twice as he swiftly gave the ladies a bow and exited the room. Henry started to follow his father’s example, but his mother’s voice stopped him. “Not you, Henry. We have a few things to discuss, and then I think it would be suitable for you and Gwyn to take a walk and enjoy some of these cooler temperatures that we have been experiencing.”

  “A walk does sound lovely,” Gwyn said honestly. The breezes outside had beckoned to Gwyn in the short jaunts between the carriage and the two houses. She had felt stifled that she could not go enjoy Mother Nature’s preview of one of Gwyn’s favourite seasons: autumn.

  Henry gave Gwyn a small smile before his mother got his attention again. “Sit down, Henry,” his mother said. Henry did as the woman bid, even if he did not look terribly pleased with being bossed around like a small child. “You know as well as Gwyn does that Lady Stanton and I are working towards bringing our two families together and hopefully ending all these rumours and scandals. Gwyn and yourself will be given a chance to discuss this with a chaperone during your walk, but I wanted to remind you that we will hear all sides of this once Jack has returned.”

  “He has yet to even get the letter that father sent,” Henry said with a frown. “Are we waiting until Jack returns before we proceed? I fail to see why we would in light of everything.”

  Lady Shelton gave her son a stare that caused him to fall silent. She said, “We will proceed as you and Gwyn wish. The journal has been returned to us, and we will see to it.”

  “That thing needs to be burned,” Henry spat before he said, “I am sorry, Mother. I will constrain myself.”

  Lady Shelton shook her head. “I know that you feel strongly about the journal, but your father and I feel it best to keep it on hand lest Jack deny anything in it. We are not villains, Henry. He has a right to defend himself.”

  “Of course, Mother,” Henry said, but Gwyn noted the way the man’s jaw worked as if he was very much not in agreement with any of what his mother was saying. It made Gwyn curious to talk to Henry and see what he thought of things.

  Gwyn cleared her throat. “Perhaps Henry and I could take that walk now,” she suggested.

  Lady Shelton nodded her agreement. “Yes,” she said softly. “I shall send a trusted servant of mine with you. He shall report to me any untoward behaviour.” Lady Stanton said to one of the serving girls, “Go get Trenton, shall you?” The girl was swiftly off.

  After a few minutes, the serving girl returned with a man in a crisp black and white suit. “Yes, Ma’am?” he asked in a thick accent that Gwyn thought sounded Scottish.

  “Trenton, I want you to chaperone Miss Stanton and Henry on their walk through the gardens,” Lady Shelton said with a smile at the man.

  Trenton nodded his acceptance of the task and looked over at Henry expectantly. Henry stood up and came over to Gwyn’s chair which he pulled back for her. He even offered her his arm to help her up. Gwyn was very pleased with how thoughtful Henry was being and accepted his arm by laying her hand lightly on top of Henry’s forearm.

  “Have a pleasant walk,” Lady Stanton said with a hopeful smile.

  Gwyn nodded at her mother as Henry led her towards the two double doors that opened out onto the southern patio. Trenton followed a few steps behind them to give them a sense of privacy, while still maintaining a close watch on the couple. Henry helped Gwyn down the stairs, and they set off down the cobbled path that led through the roses.

  “The breezes are just as lovely as I thought they would be,” Gwyn said softly. “I much prefer the colder months.”

  Henry said, “I recollect that about you.” He gave Gwyn a smile which made her blush and said, “It is easy to forget sometimes that we have known each other for so long.”

  “Yes, sometimes we all feel like strangers. I think that’s just part of growing older,” Gwyn said thoughtfully. Jack had certainly turned into quite the stranger, Gwyn thought before she pushed the thought away. “I was quite angry with you when you revealed that journal,” Gwyn admitted quietly.

  If Gwyn had expected anger, then she did
not get it. Instead, Henry regarded her with a sad smile. “I thought you might be still mad with me, actually.”