Regency Romances

by Grace Fletcher

  “I hope that you’ll reserve a dance for me.” Cecil smiled at her, moving closer.

  Almost automatically, Emily moved back. “I’m sure there will be plenty of ladies more than willing to do that.” She said.

  “Yes, there will,” Cecil replied. “But it’s you that I want.” His words were blunt and calculated, and something about the way he said them sent a shiver down Emily’s spine. Deciding to change the subject, she said, “At least the masquerade will relieve you of your boredom.”

  “Boredom? I suffer, my dear, from heartbreak, not boredom.” Cecil put a hand over his heart and batted his eyelashes at her in a ridiculous manner. It was all Emily could do not to laugh.

  “The castle will look beautiful,” Emily said. “Murgatroyd is quite excited. I saw him putting up banners all over the walls.”

  “They can try and make it look beautiful,” Cecil said. “But there are still many folks who won’t come because of the curse.”

  “What is this curse?” Emily asked. “I keep hearing about it and yet, never seem to get any details.”

  “I’ll tell you,” Cecil said. “It happened some time ago. Five years ago, to be exact. The earl was a relatively young man then, about my age.”

  Emily nodded, waiting for him to go on.

  “A ball was held much like the one we will have today,” Cecil said. “People came from far and near to attend it. You have to understand, at the time, the earl was one of the merriest men in the land. Not that he was earl yet; his father was still alive.”

  Emily nodded. She tried to imagine the earl as a carefree, happy man and all that she could conjure up was a vision of him laughing in the library, the day they had first met. For a brief second, he had looked young but then, soon enough, the somber expression that never seemed to escape from his face, had slipped back.

  “Damien was young, and he was happy,” Cecil said. “He planned to marry his fiance, and his childhood sweetheart, Greta. The masquerade was just one more celebration in a week of festivities. But before they could marry, a horrible tragedy befell him.”

  “What happened?” Emily gasped.

  “ Fire,” Cecil said. “No one knows how it started, but everyone suspects that Damien was the cause. In a fit of jealousy, he started a fire, and trapped her in a room, leaving her to burn to death.”

  “I don’t believe it!” Emily exclaimed, horrified.

  “It’s true,” Cecil said. “Everyone knows it. But an evil man is often punished for his sins. He could not control the fire, and the earl’s own father perished too.”

  Emily shuddered. “That’s… what a tragedy! To lose his father and his love on the same night!”

  “Indeed,” Cecil said. “But there’s more than one man who whispers that the earl was pleased with the fire... that the earl was glad to have his father die, and to inherit his vast wealth. This is why he’s known as the beast, and that is the curse of the castle. It is said that until a woman saves the beast from himself, the castle will remain a cold and haunted place.”

  “These are horrible lies,” Emily said, with some anger. “The men who repeat them should be ashamed. This poor man has suffered terribly and to have some sort of delusional fairytale made out of his sufferings... well no wonder he prefers to be alone.”

  “Or perhaps, he locks himself in his room because of grief,” Cecil said with a laugh. “That, too, is a possibility, is it not?”

  “I don’t believe it,” Emily said. “That’s not who he is. I’ve had plenty of opportunities to interact with the earl, and I’d profess that he’s a good man.”

  “Women are not very good judges of character.” Cecil laughed. “The earl is half insane. He was darkly jealous of his fiance, and he brought ruin to his own life.”

  “You should be ashamed.” Emily said, “Speaking this way of your host.”

  “I have no love for the man,” Cecil said.

  “Despite the fact that he once saved your life?” Emily asked. “How utterly shameful.”

  “You defend the earl most earnestly, My Lady,” Cecil said with a laugh. “Perhaps you are not unaffected by his charms?”

  “I am only loyal to a man who has fed me and kept me under his roof,” Emily said.

  “Ah yes,” Cecil said. “Such loyalty. Such passion, too.” He advanced a step. “Perhaps you could share some with me, My Lady.”

  Disgusted, Emily moved away from him, only to be stopped as he gripped her by the wrist.

  “A kiss is all I seek,” Cecil said with a broad smile.

  “Unhand me.” She said, any trace of friendliness gone from her voice. “Immediately.”

  “I will, as soon as I get what I asked for,” Cecil said, still laughing. “Well? Will you give it to me?”

  Emily was very afraid but knew better than to show it. A man like Cecil was akin to a predator; at the first sign of fear, he would pounce. Far better if she pretended that it was all a joke, and escaped using her wits rather than trying to use her strength.

  “My Lord, you joke well,” Emily said with a charming smile. “I’m sure that you know a kiss is worth far more when it is given freely.”

  “I only know what I want,” Cecil said, stepping up to her, and lowering his lips.

  With a hiss, Emily snapped her face away and tried to push him aside. Impatiently, his fingers dug into her wrist, making her cry out loud in pain.

  At that, a shadow emerged, and before Emily could so much as let out a whimper, Cecil had been lifted in the air and thrown clear through the undergrowth. The earl stood between them, his chest heaving with rage, his strong muscles rippling under his shirt.

  Cecil gave out a loud cry, wailing. “My ankle! You broke my ankle, you swine!”

  “Stop that crying at once.” The earl said, his voice sharp as acid. “Or I’ll do far worse.”

  Immediately, a frightened Cecil fell silent.

  “You are to leave my castle immediately.” The earl said. “You may make excuses to your sister and father if you do not want them to know of your follies, but I will not have you in my presence again. No man who forces himself on a woman is welcome here. Your behavior is unpardonable.”

  “Well, why are you here then?” Cecil asked, anger clouding his face. “Or do you think we do not know how you got those scars on your face, and why you have that great big beard hiding them? Everyone knows about your sins, Earl Bradshaw. There is no need for you to pretend that you are somehow better than the rest of us.”

  The earl advanced upon him, and Cecil limped away, clearly favoring discretion over valor. Emily, left behind, stared at the earl whose face showed regret and grief, all mixed together.

  Chapter 6

  The Earl’s Story

  “A re you well?” Emily asked, coming toward him.

  “That’s the question I was going to ask you.” He said. He was still taken aback at the murderous rage he had felt when he saw Cecil hurting her. Delicately, he lifted her hand and traced a finger around her wrist. “That despicable man.” He said, his voice shaking with rage. “I should…”

  She turned her hand and clasped his. “Please don’t.” She said. “Don’t think of him a moment longer than you have to.”

  His face was still dark with rage, and at that moment, Emily knew she had been wrong. She had believed that the earl was a decent man through and through, but it was as if that civilized veneer had been ripped off his face and the true savage nature of his heart had been revealed underneath. This man, this living breathing man in front of her, was nothing less than a beast when his temper was up. She believed quite firmly that if she let go of his hand, he was capable of murdering Cecil at that moment. Could it be, then, that in a fit of jealousy, he had killed his fiance?

  No. She looked up into his eyes, which burned golden under the light of the sun. There was pain in his eyes, and rage; and yet, she felt safe and protected. This was not the kind of man who would hurt a woman. He was the kind of man who would kill, yes, but only if he believ
ed that someone had been preying on the weak.

  “Your eyes ask me questions I cannot answer.” The earl said in a husky voice. Shivers went down her arms as he looked into her eyes.

  “What happened?” She asked. “What changed you?”

  “Didn’t Cecil tell you the rumors already?” He sneered, recovering himself somewhat. “I’m a murderer, that’s what they all say.”

  “I cannot believe it,” Emily said.

  “Why?” He asked. “I’ve had a curse placed upon me for my sins. I’m destined to wander the halls alone forever.”

  “Until a woman rescues you from your fate.” She said, and his sneer widened.

  “So you have been listening to what Cecil says.” He said. “You believed it too, didn’t you?”

  “Earl Bradshaw, you saved my life,” Emily said. “In the days that followed, you have been nothing but a courteous gentleman to my brother and me. I am unwilling to believe that you are anything but what you appear to be; a good, honorable man, and an honest one.”

  “What I appear to be?” The earl stared at her, daring her to answer. When she didn’t have the words to, he went on. “What do you know about appearances, My Lady? You who have no doubt enticed men since you first stepped into womanhood. My appearance is the reason I hide in this castle. My appearance is the reason I dare not show my true face to anyone.”

  As he spoke, Emily’s eyes were drawn to the fine network of scars on his right cheek. They peeked out from within his beard and were then hidden.

  “That’s right.” The earl said. “I am a beast, just as Cecil says. These scars are a permanent reminder of my greatest failure and my lasting shame.”

  “Your fiance,” Emily said. “You must have loved her very much to throw away the rest of your life living like this.”

  “I am not throwing away my life.” The earl said. “I’m merely adjusting to my new circumstances. The truth, My Lady, is that if I ever shaved my beard, no woman would look twice at me. The reality is that half of London thinks I am a murderer, and until I can prove otherwise, I do not wish to meet them. The truth is that I will probably spend my years this way, locked away alone and what’s worse, I’ll probably be happier than the rest of you!”

  The force of his words made Emily withdraw. There was so much hate in him and so much hurt. Instead of being repulsed, however, she only felt tenderness. He was a good man, behind all the walls he had built around himself. She was sure of it. If only he could see that a virtuous woman would love him no matter what his face looked like.

  “You have my utmost sympathy.” She said. “I’m so regretful, Damien. For all that’s happened to you.”

  “Regretful?” The words seemed foreign to him. He tested them on his tongue and looked up at her, suspicion still lingering in his voice.

  “Tell me about it.” She said.

  “Why should I?” He asked.

  “Because the library is almost ready.” She said. “In another day or two, I will be gone, and you need never see me again. But I promise you that I will take some of your pain, and try to relieve you of it.”

  “Why would you?” He asked, still suspicious. “You’re not fooling yourself that I will fall in love with you, are you?” His voice was cold and cut through to her bone. She flinched at his words but did not step away.

  “What do you want in return?” He asked her.

  For a long moment, she looked at him. The truth was, she only wanted to see his pain disappear. But the earl, embittered as he was, would not believe this. He undoubtedly believed that every woman was cold and calculating. So be it.

  She said, “You saved my life, Earl Bradshaw. I consider myself in your debt. I want nothing in return except that the debt be lifted from my shoulders.”

  “So be it.” He said. It disappointed him. Part of him, some tiny secret part, had hoped that she would care when he stated that he would not love her. But she had not reacted, she apparently felt nothing but gratitude. Well, perhaps she was right. Maybe sharing his story with a woman like her would help him in some way. He did believe that she would not gossip. He had faith in her basic integrity.

  “I fell in love with Greta when I was barely a boy.” Earl Bradshaw said. His eyes looked off into the distance, as he recalled her. “She was beautiful, in a way that few women are; the kind of beauty that entrances men. Yet it wasn’t her beauty that I fell in love with. It was… something in her very soul. A way she had of looking at the world. I cannot explain it, even now. She had an aura about her that captivated me.”

  Each word sent a shaft of jealousy through Emily’s heart, yet she could not protest. She felt tied down by her own words; after all, she had promised the earl that she would listen. If it helped him, she had no choice. No matter how much it hurt her, she would listen.

  The question of why his pain should hurt her occurred to her too late. In an instant, she knew the answer. Somewhere in the last week, somehow, she had fallen hopelessly in love with him. Now, the agony of knowing that he would never love her back nearly caused her knees to crumble. She was only held up by her solace in the fact that he would never suspect her love, nor could she show him any indication of it.

  “You loved her, then?” She asked, the finest tremor underscoring her words.

  “As much as any fool of a boy can love a girl.” The earl said. “I was barely out of university, and just entering the Navy. I was convinced that I held the world in my palm.”

  “What happened next?”

  “Greta was fond of a lavish lifestyle.” The earl said. “Paris one month, Florence the next. She met with many artists, many poets, many men of the world. I never once doubted her loyalty to me, and I paid for it.”

  “She betrayed you?” Emily asked, feeling sick. Poor Damien, he must have been so young, so full of hope to have his heart torn out was abominable. Yet it didn’t explain the reason for his reclusiveness. After all, many young men have had their hearts broken.

  “Greta never betrayed me.” The earl said. “At least, she never gave me a reason to believe that she did. She hid her true face behind a mask of affection and love. Little did I know that all along, she had only been using me.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “We held a masquerade ball.” The earl said. “I was different back then. More open. I spent the night hobnobbing and merrymaking with my friends. So did Greta, as far as I could see. But sometime in the night, I lost sight of her. I remember it clearly. My friends and I had climbed up on the balcony and were taking turns jumping into the fountain below. Raucous laughter filled the air and yet my mind wandered to her. I wanted to be with her. I wanted her to witness the beauty of that night with me.”

  “So you set off to find her?” Emily asked.

  “Yes, I did.” He nodded grimly. “Little knowing what I would find in her stead. Betrayal.”

  Emily waited.

  “I looked all over the mansion for her, and yet I could not find her. Slowly, a cloud of anger was beginning to form in my mind. I began to suspect that she had eloped with someone or worse, was carousing with them under my roof. I asked many men if they had seen her, growing increasingly angry when they said they hadn’t. In desperation, I finally went to the library.” He sighed and shook his head. “Behind the oak doors, I heard her voice, and it was as I suspected. There was another man with her.”

  “She was a despicable woman,” Emily said. “An insufferable woman, to break your heart that way.”

  “I wish that it was only my heart she had broken.” The earl said. “She broke my spirit too.”

  Taking a deep breath, he continued, “I’m ashamed to admit that instead of throwing open the door and finding out who she was with, I stayed at the door, trying to hear his voice. But it was no use. He spoke far too softly for me to make out who he was. But it was plain to me what they were doing. Greta was not his lover, she was his accomplice! She was an infiltrator for France, and she was supplying this man with information.”


  Emily gasped. “What!”

  “It shocked me too and then it all made sense. I was in the navy, my father himself was an admiral. Between the two of us, we had much valuable information that a cunning strategist would like to obtain. Somehow, this mastermind had planted Greta in our midst.”

  “But who could possibly do such a thing!”

  “I burst into the library, determined to find out.” The earl said. But all I saw was the face and form of a man in a dark mask. The next second, he had smashed a vase across my face, and left me unconscious on the floor.” The earl put a finger to the side of his face, tracing his scars.

  Emily felt her heart well over for him. She knew that the earl blamed himself. He blamed himself for not being fast enough, or strong enough, or smart enough to stop the man. Yet he had been so young, so innocent, and so full of good spirits that night. Who could possibly blame him for reacting slower than he might otherwise have done? She longed to touch him, to reassure him, but as she moved closer to him, he moved away from her. He shook his head, refusing to be comforted, almost as if he relished the pain.

  “When I woke up, Greta was gone. So was the man. But I could smell smoke.” The earl said. “My castle, my home, was on fire.”

  Emily felt sick. A fire that he had been blamed for.

  “I ran as fast as I could. I tried to save my father, but it was no use. He had perished. That villain murdered him and Greta!” The earl said. “What was worse, he ruined my reputation as well.”

  “No one believed you, then?” Emily asked.

  “Some did.” The earl admitted. “Enough people did that I was not charged with any crime. Yet a great number of people who had seen me get angry that evening as I asked for Greta’s whereabouts, believed that I had set the fire to kill her, and accidentally killed my father in the process. There were many cruel rumors set free that day and try as I might, I haven’t been able to hunt them down. Only the truth can do that.”