Regency Romances

by Grace Fletcher

  Hamilton perused the shelves, checking the clock on the mantle piece. The children would be done with their lessons soon and lunch would be served. Hamilton hoped that having seen the letter Douglas had received didn’t make things awkward between him and Miss Stewart. He was aware of how much his children liked her, even Daisy, who had been so heartbroken by her mother’s death.

  Paying attention to his children over lunch, Hamilton was struck by how easily Daisy included Miss Stewart in conversation, listening to her advice and asking her opinions.

  Hamilton didn’t know what made him pay attention now – perhaps it was the letter – but Douglas was looking at him pointedly, mouth an unhappy line. He cleared his throat. “Daisy. Don’t ask so many questions of Miss Stewart.”

  Daisy nodded quickly, ever obedient, but she was frowning as she stared down at her bowl. Miss Stewart looked as if she might say something, but she returned to her meal. Daisy nudged her brother, and Louis shrugged, glancing at his father and then to his plate.

  Hamilton could not explain why he felt so guilty, but he pushed it down. Miss Stewart had no place telling him how to treat his children, or how they should learn about the world. His children might want things, but they did not know the way of the world.

  Douglas nodded, satisfied, and Hamilton ignored the stony expression Arabella directed at him. He would not be schooled on how to treat a guest in his house. The silence around the table got to him eventually, however, and he was not surprised when Miss Stewart placed her napkin next to her plate.

  “Would you like me to take lessons with the children?”

  Hamilton did not spare a glance for his uncle or cousin, instead staring at his children. They were still eating, trying desperately not to meet his gaze, and he sighed. “I think that would be agreeable for now.”

  Miss Stewart smiled though Hamilton suspected it was more for the children than for him. Still, he couldn’t help but appreciate the sight of it. “Finish up, children, and we’ll head back upstairs.”

  Arabella did not look pleased as she left the room, and Hamilton rubbed at the bridge of his nose, anticipating a headache. Douglas remained behind, hands clasped on the table in front of him.

  “I understand your concerns, Uncle. I assure you I am taking them seriously.” Hamilton had to tread carefully if he was going to keep everyone happy. Though the estate was large, with the storm raging outside, it was not big enough to contain all the people within it if they were at odds. “My children are first and foremost in my mind. Until the storm lets up, Miss Stewart is their best chance at keeping up their education.”

  Douglas did not look happy, but he nodded his head. “That is sound logic. I just worry, my boy.”

  Hamilton suspected there was more to his uncle’s interest, but he would not make assertions when he had no proof.

  Chapter 5

  Damaged Daughter to a Disgraced Woman

  “Goodnight, Louis,” Abigail said, shutting off the light. She paused at the next room, Lottie and Daisy already in bed. Lottie was well on her way to sleep, but Daisy was staring at the doorway, as if waiting for Abigail. “Are you all right, Daisy?”

  Daisy curled tighter under the duvet. “I miss my mother.”

  Abigail’s heart ached. Crossing the room, she sat on the edge of Daisy’s bed, running a hand over her hair. “She is not far from you.”

  “Do you think so?” Daisy’s voice was barely above a whisper, and she stared up at Abigail with eyes so full of trust and hope that Abigail could only nod her head.

  “God is taking care of her,” Abigail said, leaning in, a conspiratorial whisper. Daisy looked pleased to have a secret. “He lets her come and see you, to make sure you are all right.”

  Daisy’s lips quirked a little, pink tingeing her cheeks. “Father, too?”

  “Your father, too,” Abigail assured her. At the thought of Hamilton, Abigail’s chest tightened with emotion. She felt an undeniable attraction to the man. He made her laugh, and she found herself seeking his company often. There had been something strange about him during lunch, but she suspected that he was finding it difficult to be trapped in the house as much as she was.

  “Good,” Daisy said decisively. She reached out and took Abigail’s hand. Abigail was startled but squeezed Daisy’s hand gently. “I like having you around.”

  Abigail had to swallow around the lump in her throat. She hoped that the children understood she was only here temporarily, waiting for the storm to run its course. Daisy looked so pleased that she nodded. There would be another time to reassert that she would be leaving. “I am glad to be here.”

  It wasn’t long before Daisy was falling asleep, and Abigail padded across the floor silently, peering down at Lottie as she passed. Thumb in her mouth and fist pressed to her chest, Lottie was sound asleep. Abigail smoothed back a lock of hair from Lottie’s forehead, letting out a slow breath. These were not her children, but she couldn’t help feeling a pang of regret that their lives would be so difficult without a mother around.

  Shutting the door on the girls, she made her way downstairs. It was late but not so much that she felt the need to go to bed. There were a few lamps lit along the hallway, and Abigail headed for the library, intent on getting a book to read in bed.

  Hamilton was once again in the library, looking up at the door as she came in. He jumped, looking apprehensive for a moment before relaxing his expression. “I hope the children did not require more than their customary one book before bed.”

  Abigail flushed at the smile on his face and shook her head. “No. They were almost out at the first. Though Daisy did talk to me.”

  “Oh?” Hamilton raised his eyebrows.

  Not wanting to hide anything from him, Abigail chose a book at random and took a seat, clutching it to her chest. “She misses her mother.”

  Sorrow chased regret on Hamilton’s face, but he calmed quickly, looking mildly upset. “I apologise. She should not have said anything.”

  “It’s all right,” Abigail said gently, and at his questioning look, she put the book on the side table. “My father has often told me that we should not be afraid of death. That even after we are gone, we still have the ability to look in on loved ones.”

  She expected Hamilton to shrug it off, to turn away as most people did whenever she expressed her father’s lessons, but he was attentive. “Do you believe that?”

  “Of course,” Abigail said without hesitation. “It would be an incredibly sad world if we could never feel our loved ones again.”

  They lapsed into silence, Hamilton taking off his glasses and holding them in his hand, staring down at the documents on his lap in silence. Abigail did her best to leave him to his thoughts, thumbing through the book on her lap. She wanted to take it upstairs, read it at her leisure, but there was something about Hamilton’s expression, his sadness, that made her stay.

  “Do you not believe this is so?”

  Hamilton stared at her quickly as if he had forgotten she was there. Before she had time to feel embarrassed, Hamilton let out a thoughtful hum. “I suppose I have never let myself think about it. I’ve always worried about the children and how they are coping. I am coping,” he added, though Abigail would not have said anything. “I am aware that she is dead and that it hurts. But I do not wish to live every day in sadness.”

  Abigail’s throat was thick with emotion and she smiled gently, wanting desperately to touch him. She kept her hands wrapped around her book. “That is admirable, and I think she would be proud of you, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

  “I do not,” Hamilton said immediately. His eyes were a wonderful blue, like his cousin’s, and Abigail found herself captivated. “I wish to apologise.”

  “What for?” Abigail could think of nothing he had done to upset her.

  “I fear I have been overly familiar.” Hamilton stared at her openly. It was startling to face such honesty. “I did not want you to feel uncomfortable.”

  “I do not
, my lord,” Abigail said, heart beating a little too fast in her chest. “I enjoy your company, and I find I laugh more with you. I would not wish to presume anything.”

  Hamilton opened his mouth as if to say something, but Arabella appeared in the doorway. “Philip!”

  Abigail blinked, startled. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, reflecting on the warm smile Hamilton gave her. “I bid you goodnight.”

  Arabella put a hand on Abigail’s elbow. “I am sorry.”

  “It is no problem”, Abigail said quickly, aware that they had done nothing wrong but still concerned with Arabella’s appearance. She was glad that it had not been Douglas. She was halfway down the corridor when she realised she had left her book on the table. Turning to go back, she paused at Arabella’s harsh tone.

  “I know he has said something to you, Philip.”

  Abigail pressed herself to the wall, not wanting to be seen, knowing she should return later for her book. But something about Hamilton’s answering tone surprised her. It was so cold when just moments ago he had been warm.

  “He showed me a letter, that is all.”

  Arabella laughed, and Abigail could hear the false note to it. “Was this friend reputable?”

  “There is no way to verify when the weather is as it is,” Hamilton explained. Abigail wondered what they were talking about. She should leave, let them have their conversation in peace. “Douglas’s friend knows Abigail’s parents.”

  Freezing, Abigail didn’t know what to make of that. She couldn’t remember any friend of her parents knowing someone as socially elevated as The Honourable Douglas. Pressing a hand to the doorjamb, she turned her face towards the wall.

  Arabella sounded furious. “You know why he is choosing to do this now. To get between you and the one person you might actually find suitable.”

  “Arabella,” Hamilton said, his tone darker than Abigail had heard it yet. “I know you mean well and you want the best for me, but my hands are tied in this.”

  There was a pause. Abigail wished she had the courage to walk into the room and demand to know what they were talking about, but she could only stand there.

  “Tell me then,” Arabella said finally, a note of pleading in her tone. “Tell me you do not believe him that Abigail’s mother could be so disgraced.”

  Abigail clamped a hand on her mouth, trying to stifle the cry escaping her mouth. She found herself hoping for the same – that Hamilton could not believe such a cruel untruth about her family. When Hamilton’s silence pressed on, both she and Arabella seemed to come to the same conclusion.

  “Philip, you cannot.”

  “There is no reason for him to lie, not about this,” Hamilton said with a certainty that startled Abigail. Did he not believe that she would tell him were such a thing true? No daughter of a disgraced clergyman’s wife would have spoken so freely with him as she had just moments ago!

  “He has plenty of reasons,” Arabella said angrily.

  “I have reasons,” Hamilton said imploringly. “You have to understand how I feel about her –”

  Abigail could not listen to any more of their talk, nor did she want to know how he really felt about her. Forgetting about grabbing a book, she hurried down the hall, taking the stairs quickly. A couple of maids saw her coming and frowned at her, and Abigail tried to calm her walking.

  As soon as the door shut between her and the outside world, Abigail threw herself on the bed, curling up. Her eyes burned with tears, and she let them fall, clutching at the sheets on the bed. How could she have been so stupid? Despite convincing herself that she shouldn’t fall for Hamilton, she had allowed herself to, anyway.

  Now she knew how he truly felt about her – damaged, daughter to a disgraced woman. She could not allow herself to get any more involved with the family.

  Chapter 6

  The Risk of Losing

  the Children

  Hamilton did not know what to make of Miss Stewart.

  The last couple of days she had been pulling away from everyone in the household, including his children. The storm was not letting up, and Hamilton could feel the frustration in the house growing. Arabella was angry with both him and her father, and the children were grumpy that Miss Stewart seemed reluctant to play with them.

  She still saw to their lessons. He would often hear her instructing them on the piano, or Lottie’s continued attempts at talking. When she wasn’t required, she would retreat to her room, and Hamilton could not figure out why.

  Douglas seemed pleased with the distance. He had given Hamilton an approving nod and though he often came down for dinner, he would often be in his room. Hamilton was finding it increasingly more difficult to listen to what his uncle wanted and get closer to Miss Stewart.

  Now that she had increased the distance between them, Hamilton realised just how many hours he spent with Miss Stewart, either watching her with his children or the evenings in the library. She often looked scared of him, eyes to the floor, and now he wondered if his uncle was right. She always seemed so reluctant to look him in the eye.

  “It’s social mores,” Arabella told him, unimpressed, the night of their argument. “She is a lower class, Philip. She knows you are too good for her.”

  Hamilton ignored the impertinent tone in his cousin’s voice. He did not want to believe the letter about Miss Stewart’s mother, hating that such a thing could tarnish a daughter. Though he had not known how to argue his case appropriately with Arabella, she had given him a pitying look.

  “I hope you know what you are doing, siding with my father.”

  It was not about taking sides. Hamilton knew exactly who had the power in this situation, and it was not him. If he wanted to keep his family safe, give his children the future they deserved, he needed to keep his uncle happy until he came up with a suitable plan.

  Meals were uncomfortable, even with Hamilton working hard to figure out a solution. Miss Stewart was present and polite, but she rarely started a conversation. Arabella maintained a stony silence, and though Hamilton did his best to maintain normalcy, it was obvious his children were no more interested in hearing his excuses than Arabella.

  Daisy had made her displeasure clear, refusing to listen to her nurses unless Miss Stewart could play with them again. Louis followed his sister’s example, pleading with his father in every way he could while remaining respectful. Lottie did not yet know enough words to object, but she had refused to kiss him goodnight for the past few days.

  They had not been this cold with him since his wife’s death and the days he spent away working. It had been unfair to them, but he had not dealt with his grief well.

  It seemed that he was not dealing with this situation well either but had no idea what to do to fix it. He could not unlearn the information about Miss Stewart’s mother, nor could he stand up to his uncle without risking his children’s place in society – something his wife had been so happy for them to explore.

  “There is an easy solution,” Douglas said that evening, the two of them in Hamilton’s study. Douglas had come in for a brandy, but he had spent most of the last hour staring into the drink, brow furrowed. Hamilton knew it meant he was working out a plan. “When the storm breaks, as it must do soon, you should send the children away to school.”

  Hamilton was shocked. “You cannot be serious.”

  Douglas stared at him, expression hard. “They are unruly and have allowed this situation get between their wants and your expectations of them.”

  “My only expectations,” Hamilton said slowly, “are that they live happy lives.”

  “That is all your father wished for you,” Douglas said primly. “It was why he placed me in charge of the fortune.”

  Hamilton knew only too well why his father had left the estate and money to Douglas, and it had nothing to do with Hamilton leading a happy life. He held his tongue, thought of his children. “I do not know if that would be beneficial for them.”

  “Your father attended school," Dougl
as pointed out. “As did I, as did Arabella. We are all the more fortunate for it.”

  He did not mention that Hamilton had not attended school, but the silence spoke for itself. The idea of the large house not having his children in it left a gaping ache in his chest, but his uncle’s expression was determined. Hamilton did not want to risk that his uncle would send the children anyway, given his control of the estate.

  “Fine,” Hamilton said. “I will inform them in the morning.”

  Douglas nodded, finally taking a sip of his drink. “This will be a good move for you, Philip. It will open doors.”

  Hamilton couldn’t imagine that sending his children away would open any doors he wanted to step through.

  Chapter 7

  Father Loves You

  Abigail knew she was hurting the children.

  Lottie cried often whenever she left the room though she was always in the care of a nanny. Louis was trying to be a strong boy, as his father would want him to be, but he would often sit close to her during lessons. Daisy did not know how to react. After their talk, Abigail had hoped they would have time to address her leaving, but Daisy seemed to be angry more than she was welcoming.

  Abigail was hoping to talk to Arabella – perhaps she would know what to do – when Hamilton addressed them all at breakfast.

  “Children,” he said, tone hard, but there was a touch of sadness in his eyes. “I wish to talk to you about something.”

  Lottie was playing with her breakfast, and though it was not her place, Abigail took her spoon. “Lottie, pay attention to your father.”

  Lottie blinked then grinned at her father.

  “Thank you, Miss Stewart.” The thanks were genuine, but he immediately turned away from her, schooling his expression into something disinterested. It made her heart clench, and she could see the distress on his children’s faces at being addressed so coldly. “I have decided that when the storm breaks, you will attend school.”

  Louis looked confused. “We have lessons at home, Father.”