Regency Romances

by Grace Fletcher

  Looking him over, Elizabeth could certainly say Lincoln wasn’t fat. He looked very fine, his clothes fit to perfection. He had a very good tailor. But the trousers did look threadbare.

  “How long have you had these trousers?” she asked.

  “About ten years.”

  Elizabeth whistled.

  “It was probably about time they gave way. How they’ve managed to last this long, I have no idea.”

  “I don’t believe in throwing out something when it’s still got some use.” Lincoln shrugged. “They still fit, so they were useful. Do you think you can fix them?”

  Elizabeth didn’t need to have a closer look to know that the trousers were not going to be fixed anytime soon. Or at all. She shook her head.

  “I think these have had it, my lord.” Elizabeth saw his crestfallen face and hurried on. “But what I can do is make you a new pair. I’ve got this material in the back.”

  She wasn’t sure if she did, but Elizabeth would make sure of it. Lincoln’s face perked up.

  “You’d do that?”

  “Of course.”

  Now Elizabeth could see Isabel staring at her, but she focused on Lincoln, whose face was starting to light up.

  “But…” He looked a little apprehensive. “Won’t it cost more?”

  Elizabeth smiled.

  “For you, just the price of mending this pair. Just don’t tell anyone I said that or they’ll all want reduced payment for services rendered.”

  Now she was going mad. Elizabeth had never done this before, but with the earl she couldn’t help herself. And it was worth it to see Lincoln smiling. That smile could have women swooning.

  Then Elizabeth realized they were standing a little too close. Far too close for Society’s manners. Feeling her face getting hot, she jumped back and dropped him a quick curtsy.

  “I’ll get my lad, Colin, to measure you for the new pair,” she mumbled.

  Aware that both the earl and her assistant were staring at her, Elizabeth managed to leave the shop floor without breaking into a run or falling over.

  ***

  Lincoln had been completely thrown when he saw Elizabeth Barnes. She had not been what he was expecting. Younger, certainly. And very pretty. Golden blonde hair pinned back away from a clear-skinned face, showing off her perfect cheekbones, rosy complexion, and cornflower blue eyes. It went with her tall, statuesque figure. Lincoln had never seen anyone as fair as the seamstress the Duchess of Oxford had pointed him towards.

  He felt like a fool stumbling over his words. Before Lincoln could stop himself, he was saying things he would never say to anyone else. And from Miss Barnes blushing, she was flattered. But Lincoln couldn’t flatter her too much; he didn’t want to get himself in an awkward situation that he couldn’t get out of.

  This was not right. Elizabeth Barnes was, essentially, a servant. But whenever Lincoln looked at her, he didn’t see a servant.

  What was wrong with him? He had never reacted like this about anyone before. What was so different about this woman? Hopefully, Lincoln could keep his distance and not have to find out.

  The thought of keeping away left a hollow feeling in his chest.

  Lincoln was still thinking about Miss Barnes as he returned home, his carriage laden with parcels ready for Christmas. His mother was one of those women who wanted as many presents as was possible. Lincoln wasn’t interested in buying so many gifts. In his mind, a lot of thought went into one gift for each person. Quality was better than quantity, and it didn’t make his bank account look lean when the New Year came around.

  It was a pity the dowager countess thought differently. She was a spoiled, frightful woman. Lincoln sometimes wished she had passed instead of his father, who had been a gentle giant, a kind man Lincoln had looked up to. There had never been anything maternal from his mother, who was intent on living her life through her son. But as Lincoln was as much of a recluse as his father was, it drove her to despair.

  Especially with her attempts to have him marry. Lincoln wasn’t interested. But the dowager countess wasn’t listening.

  Lincoln got out the carriage and had one of his footmen help him carry the parcels inside. The butler, Harrison, and the housekeeper, Mrs. Bohill, hurried to join them as Lincoln got inside. He handed the parcels over to the housekeeper.

  “Would you put these in my office, please?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  The buxom lady curtsied and headed down the hall. Harrison grimaced at his master as he took Lincoln’s coat and cane, shaking the snow off the coat.

  “It looks like we’re going to have a white Christmas,” he commented.

  “If the snow keeps going from now until Christmas Day.” Lincoln looked out the window. “And from the way it started on the way home, I think it will.”

  “Lady Lincoln is in the morning room, my lord.”

  Lincoln understood the warning.

  “What sort of mood is she in?”

  “I’d rather not say, my lord,” Harrison replied, his expression passive.

  That was useful. Lincoln sighed and headed towards the morning room. He had another residence in London, which had been his parents’ home when they were in town. But Lady Lincoln preferred to live with her son. She claimed that she didn’t want to be lonely, but Lincoln knew it was so she could make sure he was married off. Her efforts had doubled lately, which infuriated him.

  His mother was sitting at her writing desk by the window, scribbling away furiously. Even at fifty, she still had an attractive countenance. Lincoln had to admit his mother still looked very youthful. There was barely a line on her face, and her light brown hair had no sign of white hairs showing. She could still have people giving her a second look, but they didn’t know the spiteful side of her. Lincoln did, much to his chagrin.

  She looked up as Lincoln entered, scowling at him.

  “Where have you been?” she snapped.

  “Good day, Mother. I hope you had a pleasant morning.” Lincoln crossed to the drink cabinet. He needed a large glass of brandy when dealing with his mother.

  “Don’t dodge me, Lincoln! Where have you been?”

  “I didn’t realize I needed to tell you where I needed to go.”

  “You do. I am your mother.”

  “And I am the earl.” Lincoln took a big gulp, letting the brandy slide down his throat. It burned. “That is something you seem to keep forgetting.”

  “I haven’t forgotten.” Ann stood, smoothing her hands down her skirts before stalking over to her son. Even angry she managed to look regal. “Until you settle yourself down and stop this silly nonsense with regard to not wanting any heirs, you do answer to me. The Earl of Lincoln is meant to be a man, not a boy.”

  “And refusal to marry and have heirs makes me a boy?” Lincoln snorted. He paced away. “I’ve told you many times that I’m not interested in getting married. If I don’t have children, I’m not going to be upset about it. If it doesn’t happen, it doesn’t happen.”

  “You’re the eldest son!” Ann cried. “You need to be focusing on finding a wife. It’s been five years, and nothing.”

  Lincoln smirked.

  “Shouldn’t that be telling you something, Mother? Anyway, I do have an heir. My brother.”

  That had Lady Lincoln's face going red. It made her look more flushed than the rouge.

  “Your brother is not a worthy choice at all,” she said defiantly.

  “I think he is. He’s competent, knows how to handle money, and he has a wife and family—which includes sons.” Lincoln finished the rest of his brandy, wishing the glass was bigger. “I trust him.”

  “But I don’t!” Ann snapped.

  “You say that about your own son?”

  It was no secret that Lady Lincoln didn’t have much love for her younger son. Jonathan had been defiant as a young boy, something Ann hated. He had been carted off to various nannies in her attempt to separate the close bond the brothers had. But Jonathan had grown up and
settled down, and that was due to the servants that practically raised him. He was someone his father had been proud of.

  Chapter 3

  Strict Society

  Lincoln knew she could see that she had overstepped the mark. He would not have anyone say a bad word against Jonathan.

  “That was too hasty.” She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I don’t think he’s worthy of the earldom at all. Not like you.”

  There were times when Lincoln wished he had been the younger brother. Then again, Ann would be forcing him to find a way to become the earl. And he had days when he hated being the earl.

  “It’s finalized, Mother,” he said firmly. “Jonathan is my heir. It’s in my will, and unless I marry, he will inherit when I die. I’m quite content on my own.”

  Ann’s mouth tightened into a thin line. She scowled as her nostrils flared.

  “I’ll make you change your mind.”

  Lincoln turned away, putting his glass down on the coffee table.

  “No, you won’t. If you’ll excuse me.” He gave her a mocking bow, “I have a few matters to take care of.”

  Then he left the room. Hiding in his study seemed to be a regular occurrence now. Lincoln made a mental note to make his mother move back to the other residence in town the day after Christmas.

  ***

  The snow was starting to come down thick and fast. Elizabeth had never seen anything like it. It had snowed before in December, but nothing like it was now. For four days, it was almost like a blizzard. People didn’t dare go out in it, but that was fine with Elizabeth. It meant she could sit — a rarity in her job now—and focus on the work she had already been given. Working by natural light was certainly a lot easier than working by candlelight.

  The project Elizabeth worked on the most were the Earl of Lincoln’s britches. She had gotten Colin, her male assistant and errand boy, to measure him for a new pair of trousers, and he had cut out the fabric pieces. Now all she needed to do was sew it all together.

  Her fingers were red, raw, and throbbing from having a pin poke her whilst she sewed, but Elizabeth finally managed to get them done. Colin and Isabel had sat beside her, studiously going through the other projects, and everything was practically completed. For a small store with only the three of them, they worked very quickly. And their clients were very satisfied.

  Whilst Elizabeth wrapped all the orders into parcels with relevant labels, Isabel and Colin cleared everything away. Then Colin began wandering off into the front of the shop and returning several minutes later.

  “Colin,” Elizabeth said when he came back for the fifth time, “What are you doing?”

  “I’m looking at the snow,” Colin replied. “It’s stopped snowing, and everything is completely white.”

  Elizabeth laughed.

  “That’s what normally happens when it snows.”

  “Not like this.” Colin waved her over. “Come and have a look, Miss Barnes.”

  At twelve, Colin was easily pleased. He was an eager worker and while he wasn’t the most educated of children, his ability to use a needle was astounding. Much like his mother, who had also taught Elizabeth how to sew.

  Deciding to humor the lad, Elizabeth followed him out into the shop front. And stared. The snow had stopped, and it looked like someone had laid a white blanket on the street outside. It was very thick and undisturbed. The sun had come out, making the snow look like it was glistening.

  Even in their small High Street shop, the view was spectacular.

  “Whoa,” Isabel Daniels breathed as she came to join them. “That is beautiful.”

  “It certainly is,” Elizabeth murmured. “Hopefully, we can get some more customers in or I’m not going to be able to pay rent for this month.” She turned to Colin. “Thank you, Colin. You can head off home now. If you can take the deliveries for Lord Salisbury and his family that would be useful.”

  “Yes, Miss Barnes.”

  Colin practically ran into the back room. Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile at his eagerness to get out into the snow. As a child, it was magical. As a grownup, the magic was less. It was just a nuisance.

  “Thank goodness we’ve finished for the day.” Isabel went to her desk and began to tidy away. “I can’t believe we’ve managed to get through all of that in four days.”

  “Snow does have its advantages at times,” Elizabeth agreed.

  “I just wish we didn’t have to do so many orders around Christmas time,” Isabel grumbled.

  Elizabeth laughed.

  “It’s Christmas, Isabel! People want to look their best.”

  “I can’t imagine why. Not in this weather.” Isabel glowered at the snow. “I’d rather be bundled up. I may look strange but at least I’d be warm.”

  Elizabeth was of the same frame of mind. She liked to be warm when the weather got bad. Her fingers froze up, and she wouldn’t be able to work. That would slow up the work for her. But they had to look the best for their clients whenever they came in, which was why Elizabeth had coats in the back room, ready for the three of them to bundle up into when they were working. The back room had a draught coming through the back door, making it very cold. And the windows weren’t much protection.

  It wasn’t the best place to have her shop, not with the cold affecting the fabrics, but the landlord had done Elizabeth a favor when she set up three years ago. He had given it to her at a reduced rate, and now Elizabeth was able to pay him back rent at the regular rate, plus interest. She didn’t have enough to move to a new location, so Elizabeth took what she could get.

  Hopefully, they would be more successful in the New Year and they would be able to take on more people to look after the clients in the shop while Elizabeth worked in the back. That would be much preferable.

  “Have all the orders gone out?”

  “Well, Colin took the Earl of Salisbury’s orders, so that should be it.” Isabel checked the accounts book and grimaced. “Oh. We’ve still got the delivery for the Earl of Lincoln. We said it would be at his place of residence today.”

  Elizabeth felt her heartbeat stumble. The Earl of Lincoln. She had tried not to think about him for the last few days, which had been exceedingly difficult as she worked on his order. The man didn’t seem to realize how much of an effect he had on women.

  It was no wonder women wanted to become his countess. Having a fine-looking man like the earl beside them would be the envy of Society.

  Elizabeth had to stop thinking like that. This wasn’t going to help her at all. Having desires, even the slightest thoughts, above her station was not a good idea at all.

  “Shall I take it over there on my way home?” Isabel asked.

  Elizabeth knew she should agree and let Isabel take it along. But something had her shaking her head almost immediately.

  “No, I’ll do it. I’m going that way, anyway.”

  “Were you?” Isabel raised her eyebrows. “You live in the other direction.”

  “I…I felt like a long walk home,” Elizabeth stuttered.

  That was not convincing at all. And from Isabel’s expression, she thought so as well.

  “It wouldn’t have anything to do with you wanting to see the earl again? I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to lay your eyes on him for a second time. I must say, he is very handsome.”

  Elizabeth could feel her face getting warm. She cleared her throat.

  “Nothing of the sort. And you shouldn’t make assumptions, Miss Daniels.” She ushered Isabel towards the door. “You go on home. I’ll finish up here.”

  Grabbing her coat, Isabel scampered out of the shop. She seemed to know that she was reaching the line. While Elizabeth adored Isabel, and she was a competent worker, Elizabeth didn’t want to get too familiar. She was the employer, Isabel an employee. Isabel was the last person to take advantage of anyone, but Elizabeth didn’t want to go into that trap of opening up too much.

  That would be a recipe for disaster, in her eyes. It had happen
ed to others, and chances were, it could happen to Elizabeth.

  Her eyes landed on the parcel for the earl, his name neatly scrawled on the top. It had to be delivered, and Elizabeth had promised it would be with him at the end of the week which was today. She needed to get it over to his house.

  Chapter 4

  Very Much Aware

  At least he lived by Regents’ Park. That meant a nice walk. Elizabeth didn’t fancy going the long way around the park. There were a few streets where she could be cornered by thieves and pickpockets. Elizabeth didn’t want to be grabbed while carrying a client’s delivery and then have it stolen; she couldn’t afford to lose any customers.

  Putting on her cloak, gloves, and hat, Elizabeth locked up the shop and headed towards Regent’s Park. The snow was deeper than she expected, her feet going in up to the ankles. The snow seeped into her stockings, and soon Elizabeth’s boots were wet, as were her stockings up to her knees and most of the hem of her dress. It was cold, and it was heavy, but Elizabeth kept going. She thought about the tin bath she had in her home, which she would fill up as soon as she returned before sinking into the hot water. Even if it just meant sitting there with no scents and soap, it was preferable than almost knee-deep in snow.

  It wasn’t difficult to get through the park although Elizabeth had to concentrate on where the path was. Twice she nearly wobbled towards the frozen lake, which was obscured by both ice and snow. Hills that hadn’t been there before leapt out at her, and Elizabeth nearly fell flat on her face. The parcel was getting more crinkled and ripped a little at the ends. Elizabeth groaned. She hoped the earl wouldn’t mind the packaging; she wasn’t a messy person, so to have that happen was embarrassing.

  Finally, she got through the park and crossed the street, trying to keep her feet sturdy in the now muddy slush on the road, and around the corner to the Earl of Lincoln’s residence. The candles were lit inside, and with the dwindling light outside Elizabeth could see several people through the window into a drawing room. All of them were women.

  Women in the earl’s home? From what he had said, Lincoln didn’t cope well with talking to women. What were these ladies doing here?