Regency Romances

by Grace Fletcher

  If she did not think her parents would call her crazy, she would have laughed out loud. It was a pity she could not find herself a stable job since leaving the hospital. If she could, she would be able to flee her parents’ control.

  “Oh look,” Catrina said, a false appreciation in her voice.

  When Frances peered out of Catrina’s window, she could see the Cleveland Estate stretching out before the carriage, a sprawling house with generous grounds. It was lavish and beautiful and Frances hardly dared hope that one day she would be able to live somewhere as nice. For her sister it was almost guaranteed, but she doubted she would be as lucky.

  Marla pressed a hand to her chest, eyes wide with hunger. Frances felt sick at the look, but her mother seemed moved by the sight, even if it was just for her own gains. “Catrina, think of what it would be like, all of that for yourself.”

  Catrina smiled widely, laughed when her father laughed, and Frances had to clamp down on the urge to say something. In a carriage, there was nowhere for her to go. She desperately wanted to admonish her family, however, for thinking that Cleveland Estate would ever belong to anyone other than the duke.

  Turning back to the inside of the carriage out of frustration, she clutched at her skirts, bunching her hands into fists, but breathing slowly lest one of her parents notice. By the time the carriage started up the large gravel road to the estate, she had calmed somewhat and managed a placid smile when her mother raised her eyebrows at her demeanor.

  “Are you well?” Harold asked.

  “I am,” Frances assured them, hating herself for capitulating. “Just nervous, I suppose, on Catrina’s behalf.”

  Catrina shot Frances a nasty look, but their mother smiled, and even Harold looked appreciative.

  “While it’s natural to be concerned, you needn’t be. The duke will fall for Catrina at first glance, it’s a surety.”

  “Indeed,” Catrina said snottily, eyes narrowing at Frances.

  Frances smile sweetly back, just on the right side of sincere. “Have faith, sister. One day you’ll be a duchess.”

  Catrina said nothing, and they all lapsed into silence as the carriage came to a stop. It was already busy in front of the steps, carriages pulling up and away from the estate, people flooding the steps and the entrance hall. A footman was there to help Marla, Catrina, and Frances from the carriage. Frances stared up at the house, eyes wide and appreciating the sight of the estate itself. Up close it was even more beautiful, the flora winding its way up the façade adding to the aesthetics.

  Marla and Harold were already half-way up the steps, Catrina on their heels. As much as it galled her, Frances hurried to join them, using her family as cover for people not to single her out for glances. It was safer to hide behind her parents until she was ready to circle the room. She knew a few people who would be attending, including a couple of acquaintances who often try to persuade her to leave her parents. As if it was so easy.

  They were announced at the door to the ballroom and Frances saw Duchess Isabella immediately come towards them. She had only met the woman once when Cleveland had first been brought to the hospital. And though they had never had a conversation, Frances had the opportunity to see her interact with Cleveland, and she seemed a forceful if kind woman.

  When Frances saw Cleveland follow in his mother’s wake, she sucked in a sharp intake of breath, ignoring the glare from her mother. Cleveland looked so much better than he had the day he’d been discharged. There was little light in his eyes, and he limped obviously, but his facial scar had healed wonderfully and it took only a trained eye to notice it. She thought him still handsome and could imagine wanting to spend her time with him even if she hadn’t had the opportunity to speak with him already.

  “Your Grace,” Harold said immediately, bowing respectfully and kissing the back of Duchess Isabella’s hand. “It is an honor.”

  “Indeed,” Duchess Isabella said, looking over Marla, Catrina, and then Frances. She paused, her brow furrowing. “We have met.”

  Frances didn’t hesitate. She curtseyed, then met Isabella’s eyes without fear. There was surprise and admiration reflected back, though next to Frances, Marla was squirming with her impropriety. “Yes, Your Grace. I nursed your son soon after his injury.”

  At that moment, Cleveland appeared at his mother’s elbow, giving Frances an appreciative glance. “I remember your face.”

  Frances nodded, unable to keep the smile from her face, and she made sure he was looking at her before she spoke, making certain to enunciate clearly. “I trust that your injuries have healed well. That you are content?”

  It took a moment for Cleveland to answer. His eyes were shrewd, assessing her, and Frances wondered how much of his stay in the hospital he remembered. He hadn’t spoken much, but she had been startled by his intelligence when he did bother to talk to her through the pain. He may have been brash and unkind, but she could appreciate his anger stemmed from his injuries and experiences during the fighting.

  “Would you care to dance?” Cleveland asked, offering Frances his arm.

  Frances’ eyes widened, and she could feel the heat of Catrina and Marla’s gaze, but when she met her father’s gaze, there was a calculating intensity to his expression. She ignored him and nodded. “It would be my honor, Your Grace.”

  Chapter 3

  A Remembrance

  Cleveland remembered Nurse Bell well.

  She had been assigned to him almost exclusively given the intensity of his reaction to his injuries and the constant pain he had been in. Though he feared he had been overly bitter and angry with her, she did not seem to hold it against him. That, or she was very good at hiding her true feelings.

  “I wish to thank you,” Cleveland said as they began to dance. “I believe I left without talking to you.”

  “I understood your reluctance to stay,” Miss Bell offered. She was a good dancer though she seemed uncertain. Perhaps that had more to do with this party his mother had arranged. He had been irritated, not wanting to throw himself into society so soon after his injury, but he couldn’t deny that despite his anxiousness about the people, it was helping ease concerns in society about his abilities. He was still a duke, still possessed the faculties of his mind, and putting his naysayers to shame was an added benefit.

  He continued to dance with Miss Bell through the song, who occasionally cast glances at her family, and Cleveland could not help but follow her gaze, brow furrowing as he saw their varying reactions.

  “Your family does not wish to be here?”

  Miss Bell pursed her lips. She hesitated before speaking, but Cleveland realized quickly that she was waiting until she was on the right side so that he could hear her. People did not usually care about his disability. It was all he could do to remind himself that she was a nurse, it was probably a practiced move. “I believe they were hoping my sister would have the pleasure of a dance with you.”

  Cleveland could see why Miss Bell’s sister would be appreciated as a dancer, though he himself had little interest in her. “Perhaps they should keep their expectations low.”

  Though he had not intended for it to come out so cutting, Miss Bell laughed gently anyway, expression pleasantly surprised by his candor. They danced through the next song as well, and then Cleveland took Miss Bell’s hand, once again kissing it and thanking her for the dance.

  “I appreciate you taking up my offer.”

  “I believe you are forgiven for your swift departure,” Miss Bell said, a smile teasing her lips. “I hope your current foray into society works well for you.”

  Cleveland felt the smile curving his lips and abruptly put a stop to it. Though he was grateful to Miss Bell for putting him at ease, he did not know why he was feeling so light and comfortable around her. The dancing was causing an ache in his leg, and eventually it would grow too sore to continue, but he should dance with a few more people, lest he be seen in an unfavorable light.

  “Perhaps I shall ask your sister
to dance after all.”

  The expression on Miss Bell’s face was gone in a flash, but he could see the distress before she banished it. “As is your wish.”

  Before he could explain that he meant it in jest, nothing more, Miss Bell had inclined her head and disappeared back into the crowd.

  “That was rather silly.”

  Cleveland looked back over his shoulder, meeting his mother’s intense gaze without fear. “I meant it in jest.”

  “As may be,” his mother said, sighing gently. “Women can be sensitive, my son, and someone who has grown up with Mr. Harold Bell for a father even more so.”

  Cleveland’s brow furrowed, but he did not know why his mother said the man’s name with such distaste. Before he could ask, she was touching his wrist.

  “Are you well?”

  “Enough to dance again,” Cleveland assured her.

  His mother’s gaze was assessing, but she acquiesced at whatever resolve she found in his face. “Very well. But I will cut short the festivities if need be.”

  Cleveland appreciated his mother’s concern, however misplaced. Before searching the party for someone else to dance with, he let his eyes wander back to Miss Bell, who had re-joined her family. Her parents had their heads bent, whispering to their daughter, whereas her sister looked furious. Cleveland hoped there would be no forceful admonition for Miss Bell.

  “She treated you well.” Duchess Isabella was a very clever woman and had been all of Cleveland’s life. If his mother was looking at Miss Bell like that, if her tone gave any hint to her thought processes, she was plotting something that Cleveland wouldn’t like.

  “Don’t plot, Mother,” he said, patting his mother’s hand. “I do not need your interference.”

  “Interference?” Isabella raised her eyebrows, pretending as though she were insulted. Cleveland knew better, even more so since his convalescence had them spending more time together. “You said to me yourself that you wished for a wife?”

  Cleveland was shocked enough that it took him a while to be able to answer her. “Mother, you cannot be serious?”

  The Dowager Duchess sighed, tugging Cleveland off to the side. They would not be able to remain so for long; as hostess, Isabella was required to attend to the guests, and Cleveland still had many women to dance with to keep the questions and speculation at bay.

  “I find that I rarely make light of situations, Isaac.” His mother clasped her hands together in front of her. “I wish the best for you, my son. I wish for people to stop speaking of you as if you are somehow less of a person for having fought for them and injuring yourself through it.”

  Cleveland felt guilt stir in his belly and he took his mother’s hands in his own. “I’m sorry, Mother. I should not doubt your intentions. However, I find myself concerned with the thought of asking anyone—it has nothing to do with Miss Bell herself—to marry me.”

  Though his mother said nothing more, Cleveland could see that she was thinking on it. He had no doubt that she would come to a conclusion on her own and he would have to abide by it, but he was content to do so as long as she took his concerns and thoughts into account.

  Chapter 4 - Advantage

  “Mother,” Catrina complained, sounding every inch the brat that Frances knew she was.

  Frances ignored her, trying not to show her parents how appalled she was with their delight at this turn of events. She had been afraid during the dancing that her parents would be furious at her for stealing Catrina’s spotlight, and instead they had been congratulating her and already plotting how she should approach this and make it a worthwhile match. If Frances hadn’t already found herself liking Cleveland, she would have been irritated with her parents, anyway. They had no right to treat him as a source of money instead of a human being.

  “What did he say to you?” Marla asked, also ignoring Catrina. It startled both Catrina and Frances enough that neither of them could speak. It didn’t deter Marla any, she turned to her husband, clutching at his arm, her grip white-knuckled. “This could be a very advantageous outcome.”

  “Indeed,” Harold agreed. He looked between Catrina and Frances. “It is perhaps not the desired match, but it would still work out for the better.”

  “I do not wish to a part of this,” Frances said firmly. “I cannot imagine why I would agree.”

  “Frances,” Harold snapped, his face reddening. “Stop this ridiculous behavior. Do you not wish for a good match for yourself?”

  “Harold Bell,” Duchess Isabella cut in smoothly, her face impassive but Frances could see the tightness around her eyes. “I must ask you to keep your calm amongst my guests.”

  Though it must have galled him to do so, Harold inclined his head and turned respectfully to face the Dowager Duchess. “My apologies. I was having a mild disagreement with my daughter.”

  Frances wanted to snort and tell the truth, but she had been brought up to be mindful of her manners and she would never do something so uncouth in front of a dowager duchess.

  “Is this true?” Isabella asked, clearly knowing what she was inferring by asking Frances to explain. Her father looked angry enough without the insult, but Frances found she could not protect him.

  “I believe my father is concerned that I am no taking the dance with your son as seriously as I might.”

  “Indeed.” Duchess Isabella’s lips quirked, and she turned to Harold. “It is fortuitous, perhaps, that I have come to ask for your daughter’s attendance at the estate tomorrow evening. You will spend tomorrow night here, of course.”

  Frances was shocked, eyes wide and barely remembering to keep her mouth closed despite her surprise. “Your Grace, it would be–”

  Isabella didn’t cut her off, but her raised eyebrows and stern expression was enough for Frances to stop herself from continuing her protests. “I do hope you won’t refuse the invitation, Miss Bell.”

  Her mother and father were looking at her with such anger that Frances almost wanted to accept on fear alone. Instead, she forced herself to think about it first. “I fear it is too far a journey to come back so soon.”

  “Then you must stay,” Duchess Isabella said immediately. She was deliberately ignoring Frances’s parents.

  Frances knew it took courage to stand up to someone who would see you forced into a situation—she had been doing it all her life, but it seemed to come easier with Duchess Isabella being so dismissive of them. “Then I would be happy to accept, Your Grace.”

  “Good, then it is settled.” The Duchess finally addressed Harry and Marla. “I do hope you will enjoy the rest of the party. Do try to keep the noise at an acceptable level, Harold.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” As soon as Duchess Isabella was out of sight, Harold turned his ire on Frances. “Do you think this is amusing?”

  “Father,” Frances said, keeping her tone sweet and demure. It made her nauseous, but she would have to play this smart if she wished to escape her parents. “I could not appear too eager. Duchess Isabella must believe that I am reluctant if we are not to appear as too desperate.”

  Marla looked impressed by her daughter’s train of thought, Catrina looked like she had swallowed something unpleasant, but it was her father’s grin that had Frances shuddering. She could not believe she had to be so callous to earn his favor and hated what he was forcing her to say.

  “Then by all means,” Harold said, taking Frances’s hand. She wished it had been under better circumstances; there was nothing she had wanted more as a child than to have her parents’ unconditional support. Instead, she had spent so long listening to their derision that she had grown accustomed to it. “I will send the carriage for you the day after next. I demand to be informed of everything that happened so that we can better prepare for what comes next.”

  “Yes, Father,” Frances said, keeping her tone even.

  With her parents happy, Catrina seemed to lose what little grip she had left on her anger. “Why did you allow this to happen? The duke was supposed to danc
e with me!”

  “Catrina,” Marla said sharply, probably the strictest she had ever been with Catrina. “There are plenty of other earls and lords in attendance.”

  “But they are not the Duke of Cleveland,” Catrina protested.

  “You should be pleased,” Frances said a little nastily. “This way you get to try to angle for a man who is not, as you put it so politely, broken.”

  Harold pinched the bridge of his nose. “Both of you will stop this nonsense immediately. Frances, do not bait your sister out of pride. Catrina, do not interfere with your sister and the duke. This will work out for all of us; it will be easy enough to marry you off to another wealthy family.”

  Catrina looked shook, eyes wide and startled, and if Frances had not spent years being bitter at her attitude, she might have felt sorry for her. As it was, she felt a surge of vindictive pleasure that Catrina finally understood what it was like for her, to be talked about as if she were mere goods on the trading block.

  “I will bid you goodbye,” Frances told her family. “I wish to speak to the Duke about something. It would not do to be distant when he has extended such an invitation.”

  “Indeed,” Marla agreed, dipping in to kiss Frances on the cheek. Her father did the same, and Frances had to flee out of discomfort. Catrina did not offer her anything and Frances could not say she was surprised, or that she wished to rectify that.

  Instead of looking for Cleveland, she found a quiet corner to take a seat and try to calm her racing heart. She could not believe that she had agreed so readily to something and was annoyed with herself for being so keen to stay just to dismiss Catrina and her parents.

  “What have you let yourself in for?” Frances told herself sternly, looking out at the party with trepidation. She wondered how many people Lady Catrina was inviting to spend the night—and the next evening—and resolved to find out as soon as possible, just so that she knew what she was going to have to face.