A chance at love (The Winter Sisters Box Set) : Special Edition Regency Romance

by Regina Darcy

  “Caroline!”

  Theodora’s voice was alive with both excitement and astonishment and Caroline dropped her gaze to the floor, feeling her cheeks burning.

  “You were conversing quite easily with Lord Stanway,” her sister continued, reaching out to grasp Caroline’s hand. “How wonderful!”

  Caroline, a little surprised at her sister’s reaction, lifted her head and looked at her. “You do not think me ridiculous?”

  “Ridiculous?” Theodora repeated, her brows lifting. “No, not at all. You have done wonderfully well, Caroline. Lord Stanway is an excellent man, by all accounts, even though some are still a trifle uncertain as to whether or not the Dowager Countess has forgiven him.”

  Caroline held up one hand, stemming the flow of words from Theodora’s lips. “There is nothing of significance between myself and Lord Stanway,” she stated, firmly, not allowing herself to remember all that had gone before and certainly trying her best not to let her heart flare with hope. “He has simply been aiding me with my difficulties in conversing with the male members of the ton. I am glad you have seen an improvement, Theodora.”

  To her surprise, her sister burst into laughter, her eyes twinkling as she shook her head. “Goodness, Caroline, you cannot truly expect me to believe that Lord Stanway does not consider you with affection,” she said, bluntly, squeezing Caroline’s hand. “He could barely take his eyes from you! It is not I that he wishes to walk with in the garden, of course. It is you. Although, I shall come for propriety’s sake.” She smiled and let go of Caroline’s hand. “It is quite wonderful, Caroline, truly. I am so very happy for you.”

  Caroline swallowed hard, her whole body bursting with a sudden hope that seemed to bring a fresh lightness to her.

  No longer was she held down by despair.

  No longer did she tell herself that she simply had to accept her life as a spinster, fearing that no gentleman would ever so much as look at her.

  Lord Stanway had been both kind and attentive, seeking her out with determination. After what had passed between them yesterday afternoon, Caroline had not known what to think nor what to do, for she believed that, if Miss Ruthford had not interrupted them, that Lord Stanway might have kissed her – and that thought now overwhelmed her mind.

  “Do you care for Lord Stanway, Caroline?”

  Her sister’s voice was gentle, her eyes searching Caroline’s face.

  “I – I believe I do,” Caroline admitted, quietly, aware that her cheeks were still warm. “I have told myself it is utterly ridiculous but now, mayhap, there may be a little hope for me.”

  “More than a little,” Theodora replied, stoutly, beginning to walk in the direction of the open doors. “Come now, Caroline, we must not be tardy. Lord Stanway is expecting you.”

  Sudden panic washed over Caroline.

  “But what shall I do?” she asked, as Theodora linked arms with her and hurried her through the swirling guests towards the door.

  “What shall I say?”

  Theodora laughed, although her expression was gentle. “You need not fear, Caroline. You will not be the only one struggling to express yourself when the time comes for a declaration of your affections. Do not allow it to trouble your mind. Things will fall into place quite naturally. Just do not hold back when the time comes to confess to Lord Stanway all that you feel.”

  Caroline swallowed hard, her stomach now a swirling, heaving mass that threatened to overpower her. She had never felt such anxiety before. To speak of her heart to Lord Stanway was not something she had ever even consider doing before this moment.

  “You will manage to do very well,” Theodora continued, encouragingly, as though she knew precisely what Caroline was feeling. “And it will bring you more happiness than you have ever thought, I am quite certain of it.” She threw Caroline a quick glance. “You do not mind that he is crippled, then?”

  “No,” Caroline said at once, her decisiveness surprising Theodora a little. “He has spoken to me of it and I can tell that he struggles with the whispers and the gossip that fills the room whenever he is present.” She shook her head, a little frustrated with the beau monde and their propensity for idle gossip. “There is a good deal that I do not as yet know about him, Theodora, but I find that I am quite eager to discover it.” Her words rang with sincerity as she watched her sister nod. “I have told myself that I am being foolish, that I have no right to even consider such a thing, and yet it will not leave my heart.”

  Theodora sighed happily as they walked out of the door and into the night air. “You deserve to find happiness, Caroline,” she said, softly. “My joy for you is beyond words. I know Beatrice is consumed by thoughts of her wedding – which is to take place next week, I understand – but I know she will be glad for you also.”

  Caroline flushed, grateful that the gloom did not reveal her hot cheeks. “Nothing of any importance has been shared between myself and Lord Stanway as yet, Theodora,” she protested, weakly. “I –”

  “Oh, but it will,” Theodora replied, grandly, looking across at her, her eyes glimmering with hope for Caroline’s happiness. “And very soon too, I should think.”

  Caroline shook her head and laughed, aware of the warm glow that had settled in her heart and was beginning to fill her. She and Theodora walked slowly through the gardens, taking in the lanterns that lit their path and finding contentment in simply being away from the music, the laughter and the many, many guests.

  “There,” Theodora said, after some minutes of silence. “Is that not Lord Stanway? Look, the gentleman just in front of us.”

  Caroline nodded and quickened her steps so that she might catch him – only for a young lady to step out of the shadows and directly into Lord Stanway’s path. Caroline stopped still, tugging Theodora back as she stared at the person she knew to be Miss Ruthford. She could hear her laugh floating towards them and knew the sound all too well.

  Why had Lord Stanway asked her to join him in the gardens, if he had planned for Miss Ruthford to be there also? Her heart quickened, her hands clammy as she watched, feeling Theodora’s hand resting lightly on her arm.

  “Who is that?” Theodora asked, her voice barely loud enough for Caroline to hear. “Someone of your acquaintance?”

  “Miss Ruthford,” Caroline replied, her heart sinking into her slippers as she watched Miss Ruthford put one hand on Lord Stanway’s arm, laughing up into his face. “She does not like me conversing with Lord Stanway. They went out on a carriage ride yesterday afternoon.” Her mind tried to remind her that Lord Stanway had not been particularly enamoured with the idea of attending with Miss Ruthford and that he had wanted Caroline to attend with them, but she could not lift her eyes from the scene in front of her.

  “I am afraid not, Miss Ruthford.”

  Lord Stanway’s voice reached her now, his words holding a firmness that surprised her. What was it he was saying to Miss Ruthford? What had she asked him? Her whole frame grew tense as she heard Miss Ruthford’s voice take on a soft, wheedling tone as though she were trying to convince Lord Stanway of something – only for Lord Stanway to give her another uncooperative reply.

  “Come, Caroline,” Theodora pressed, trying to cajole Caroline towards Lord Stanway. “He is waiting to speak with you and we should not delay.”

  Caroline opened her mouth to reply, trying to get her limbs to move, only for Miss Ruthford to reach up and throw her arms around Lord Stanway’s neck. He stumbled back, a yelp of surprise escaping him as she pressed herself up against him…and then his head lowered and Caroline could not look at what she was certain would follow.

  Her eyes were burning with tears, her body struggling to hold her upright as she turned to stumble back towards the house. Her shame knew no bounds, her mind screaming at her that she had allowed her foolishness to trick her into believing that Lord Stanway might care for her when, the truth was, Miss Ruthford was the one he had intentions for.

  “Caroline!”

  Theodora’s
voice was urgent but Caroline ignored it completely.

  “It is not as it seems, I am certain of it,” Theodora said, catching Caroline’s arm and pulling her to a stop. “You must not react to something that was not there, Caroline.” Her eyes searched Caroline’s face but Caroline did not want to listen.

  “I am not like Miss Ruthford,” she said in a broken voice, a single tear brushing down her cheek. “I am the opposite of her. I hide in shadows. I retreat from society. I am not a suitable match for Lord Stanway, Theodora. You must see that, surely?”

  “You are mistaken,” Theodora replied, firmly, letting go of Caroline’s hand but holding her gaze firmly. “You did not see Lord Stanway attempt to push Miss Ruthford away, as I did, Caroline.”

  Caroline shook her head, her vision blurring with tears.

  “I saw that he lowered his head to kiss her,” she said, dully, ignoring Theodora’s protests. “There is nothing more to be said, Theodora. I should have known that this was nothing more than a dream. Do excuse me.”

  Her heart was aching terribly, her eyes only just holding back the swell of tears that threatened to crash down upon her cheeks at any moment. She did not look to the left nor to the right but hurried back inside and through the crowd without so much as looking up. She had to find solace somewhere. She had to find a space where she could be alone, left to consider what she must do now.

  The library.

  Every prominent townhouse had a library – although whether she would be permitted to rest there for a time she did not know. Finding a footman, she begged to know where the room might be, stating, in a trembling voice, that she had a headache. The footman, apparently too overcome by the sight of a tearful, white faced young lady of the ton, did not so much as hesitate but showed her to the library directly, before asking her if there was anything else she required.

  Caroline shook her head and waited until he had quit the room and closed the door tightly behind him. Then, she sank down into a chair by the small fire burning in the hearth and let her tears flow.

  It was all at an end, it seemed. Her hopes were dashed, her expectations broken into tiny glass shards at her feet. Darkness was all that surrounded her now. There was not even a single shaft of light anywhere, no spark of hope in her heart. She was more alone now than ever before and it brought with it such pain that Caroline could barely catch her breath.

  What was she to do now?

  NINE

  “What is it you are attempting to do, Miss Ruthford?”

  Francis gripped Miss Ruthford’s arms with both hands, his cane lying on the ground beside him as he attempted to prevent her from capturing him with her supposed affections. He swayed this way and that, his leg burning with pain as he struggled to push her away.

  “You must know how deeply I feel for you, Lord Stanway,” she replied, her voice soft and her eyes wide. “I have not hidden it from you.”

  He shook his head and, with an effort, pushed her back before bending down to pick up his cane. Miss Ruthford, however, was not about to be easily dissuaded for she came towards him again with her arms spread wide, as though she was determined to pull him into her embrace.

  “Why do you run from this, Lord Stanway?” she asked, her eyes aglow in the lantern light. “You must know that we would make more than a suitable match and, if I may be so bold as to say, it is not as though you have a great many other choices.”

  Francis shook his head, gritting his teeth as he lifted his cane and pointed it in her direction, his leg taking the burden of his weight for a few moments.

  “Stop, Miss Ruthford,” he said, firmly, a touch of anger burning through his words. “I will not have this.”

  She looked surprised. “Oh?”

  “I do not think we would make a suitable match,” he stated, his voice deceptively soft. The thought of being with Miss Ruthford was now abhorrent to him. “In fact, I am certain of it.”

  A look of surprise crossed her face. “But I am everything you require,” she said, as though this was all that he would need in a wife. “You cannot think that many other young ladies would willingly tie themselves to a cripple, even if you are an Earl.”

  Pain sliced through his heart, releasing a jolt of anger that spurred him to action. Lowering his cane back to the ground, he shook his head, wondering how she could have written him such a beautiful, hopeful letter and now be speaking so callously.

  “I thought at one point that we might make a decent match,” he admitted. Her brow arched at the statement. “That letter meant more to me than I can ever express and I believed that, in sending something of such priceless value, I would find your heart to be open towards me, filled with the same sweet encouragement and kindness that you put into your words.” He set his jaw, his mind filled with Miss Winters. “It seems now that I was mistaken. No, Miss Ruthford,” he finished, decisively. “There can be no match between us. You are not the sort of woman I require.”

  Miss Ruthford snorted in derision and tossed her head, her selfishness and arrogance clearer to him than ever before.

  “Your mind is addled, as well it seems,” she stated, waving a hand as though he were behaving quite irrationally. “Whatever do you mean by a letter? I have never written to you in my life – nor would I do so, given that we reside in the same townhouse!” She sent him a withering look. “You do not know what it is you are giving up in refusing my affections, Lord Stanway.”

  This did not convince him, although his heart was beating so furiously that, for a moment, he did not know how to respond. Miss Ruthford had not written the letter. He had presumed that it had been her, because of that day when he had overheard her reading in the library. But had it even been her? How could he have been so mistaken?

  “You were not reading in the library,” he said, slowly, looking at her with a certainty that now began to run through him. “It was not you that day.”

  Miss Ruthford rolled her eyes, sighed and moved away from him.

  “It appears I have saved myself from a rather cruel fate,” she stated, darkly. “Your mind is confused, Lord Stanway. I do hope that you will not suffer too greatly in the days to come.”

  Francis ignored her completely, his mind finally piecing together what his heart, it seemed, had already known for some time. Miss Ruthford had not been the one to write to him. She had not sent those words of encouragement that he had clung to, those words that were still so dear to him. Nor had it been she reading aloud in the library that day. It had to have been Miss Winters.

  His heart burst with both frustration and overwhelming affection. He had to find her, had to tell her the truth that now seared his mind –he loved her dearly. He could think of no one better than she with whom he might share his life with. She was kindness itself, the embodiment of generosity and sweetness. Yes, she struggled with her own difficulties but had he not seen her face them in an attempt to overcome them? Had he not seen her grow more and more at ease in his company?

  There was a growing intimacy between them that Francis knew he could not deny. If only he could express the truth to her, then he might have the opportunity to bring them both a happy and joyous future.

  “Lord Stanway!”

  His thoughts shattered in a moment as he saw Duchess Sotheby hurrying towards him, her face illuminated by the lantern light.

  “Duchess Sotheby,” he said, wondering where Miss Winters was, given that he had asked both of them to join him in the gardens. “Is something wrong?”

  The Duchess was breathing hard, her eyes narrowing just a little as she planted both hands on her hips. “Do you have intentions towards Miss Ruthford?”

  Her question was so direct, so blunt, that it took Francis a few moments to recover himself.

  “Miss Ruthford?” he repeated, slowly. “No, indeed not. Why, might I ask?”

  She shook her head. “Then it was Miss Ruthford’s intention to try and force you into an engagement with her?” she asked, her eyes still fixed on his. “That was why she t
hrew her arms about you?”

  A cold hand wrapped around his heart.

  “Miss Winters witnessed Miss Ruthford comportment?” he asked, taking a stumbling step back and trying to keep himself composed.

  “She did,” the Duchess said, bluntly. “She believes that you attempted to kiss Miss Ruthford and, therefore, can have no true feelings of affection towards herself.” One eyebrow arched slowly. “Is that how things stand, Lord Stanway?”

  “No, no, indeed not,” he protested, urgently, shame coursing through him that Miss Winters had seen such a thing. “I had to drop my cane and thereby was required to grasp Miss Ruthford’s arms in order to steady myself. No, indeed not, Ma’am. I have no intentions towards Miss Ruthford. Instead, I have every intention of declaring myself to your sister.”

  Much to his relief, this seemed to satisfy Lady Sotheby, for her hands dropped from her hips and a long sigh of relief expelled from her lips. Her expression softened as she nodded in satisfaction.

  “I believed you were taken by surprise by Miss Ruthford’s advances,” she said, gesturing in the direction of the ballroom. “But my sister it is not of a similar opinion. Therefore, Lord Stanway, if you wish to capture her affections, then may I suggest that you go in search of her and make your feelings known?”

  He nodded, swallowing hard and feeling a knot of anxiety settle in his stomach. “But of course,” he replied, feeling an urgency fill him that had not been there before. “Do you know where she might be?”

  The Duchess gave him a small wry smile. “You must know where my sister goes when she wishes for some solitude,” she said, looking at him with expectation. “She is gone there now, I am certain of it, for she has not left the house nor requested the carriage.”

  The library.

  Closing his eyes for just a moment, Francis drew in a long breath and forced himself to remain steady. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said, hurrying through the gardens and back towards the ballroom. “I have every intention of bringing a good deal of happiness to your sister.”