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

by Regina Darcy

  “I am well aware of that,” the Duchess replied, falling into step with him. “One look at your expression when you spoke to my sister informed me of your feelings towards her, Lord Stanway.” She smiled at him and Francis allowed himself a small smile in return, although his heart remained filled with urgency and his stomach tight with nervousness. “Do come and find me thereafter, will you not? I must know how things have progressed.”

  “I shall do so,” he promised, before leaving her side to go in search of a footman to direct him towards the library.

  

  The library door was closed when Francis came to it. Placing one hand on the door handle, he hesitated for a moment, before turning it carefully and opening the door.

  It opened noiselessly, allowing him to step inside without making too much commotion. His cane tapped on the floor but, given that Miss Winters appeared to be reading aloud, she did not, apparently, hear him. Her voice was wobbling as she read aloud, the words of a poem gently wafting around the library.

  Francis did not want to interrupt. Even though there was a good deal that he wanted to say, even though there came an urgency that ran deep within him, he found that he could not interrupt her. The way she read, the expression and feeling that seemed to cover every word caught his heart, bringing him into the pain and the suffering that was being spoken of. His eyes closed as he leaned back against the wall, finally allowing the truth to rush through him.

  It had been Miss Winters who had written to him.

  It had been Miss Winters words that he had read so many times, her words that had wrapped themselves around his heart and helped restore him to health.

  Had it not been for her, then he might still be lost in darkness, struggling with all that he had endured and all that he was now left with.

  Why had it taken him so long to realise that it could not be Miss Ruthford who had done such a thing?

  Why had it required Miss Ruthford herself to state, unequivocally, that she had not been the one to write to him? Surely he could have understood that for himself much sooner – for the way Miss Ruthford spoke and conducted herself was entirely at odds with what had been contained within the letter.

  Miss Winters stopped reading, the final few words echoing around the room before rushing into his heart. She was truly wonderful, he realised, his eyes opening as he took in a long breath. Now it was his turn to know what it was like to struggle to find the correct words to say, to feel his mind empty itself when there was so much that he needed to say.

  A quiet sob came from Miss Winters and Francis felt his heart break. He could not allow her to continue to believe that he had rejected her. He had to tell her the truth, even if he himself would struggle to speak honestly.

  “Miss Winters?”

  She let out a gasp of fright, throwing herself to her feet and stumbling back with one hand pressed at her heart.

  “You did not hear me come in, I think,” he said, gently, taking a few steps towards her and reaching out one hand in her direction. “I did not want to interrupt you either, for your reading was so very beautiful that I could not allow myself to shatter it.”

  Miss Winters’ eyes were glassy, her face pale and tearstained.

  “You are mistaken, my dear lady,” he continued hoarsely, feeling his own emptions rise up within him like a tidal wave. “There is no affection between myself and Miss Ruthford.”

  “Affection aside, are you attempting to tell me that you have no intentions towards her?” Miss Winters asked, dashing a solitary tear from her eye. “I can well understand it if you do, Lord Stanway, for she is certainly everything a gentleman might want in a wife.”

  He shook his head, a rueful smile at his lips. “I hardly think that is the case, Miss Winters,” he said, softly, taking a few steps towards her as he leaned heavily on his cane. “Miss Ruthford is not the sort of young lady I require, for she has no compassion, no consideration nor sympathy with someone such as I. She demands that others do as she pleases and seems to believe that I will simply agree to her demands because it is she who has made them.”

  A flicker of confusion crossed Miss Winters’ brow and Francis found himself almost desperate to rub his hand over the formed lines, so that he might remove them from her face.

  “But I saw you in the gardens,” she replied, her voice broken with emotion. “I did not know why you would wish me to join you there if you had intentions with Miss Ruthford, unless it was so that you could ensure I had no expectations as regards your future intentions.”

  His heart began to ache within him, filled with a deep, abiding affection that Francis knew to be the very first strains of love.

  “To see Miss Ruthford there was something of a surprise,” he replied honestly. “I was waiting for your arrival, as well as the arrival of your sister, when Miss Ruthford simply appeared from the gloom and demanded that we speak.”

  Miss Winters pressed her lips together, contemplating him carefully.

  “She said she wished to speak to me about a matter of consequences, but I stated that I was afraid I could not do so at this present moment.

  A startled look came into Miss Winters’ eyes. “I see,” she said, quietly, as though she had recalled something and was now beginning to trust that she was, perhaps, mistaken.

  “I confess that I was as alarmed as you when she reached for me in such an extraordinary fashion,” he continued, a faint heat rising in his face. “I had to let go of my cane and grasp her arms in order to keep my balance.” He held her gaze for a long moment, feeling something shift between them. “Your sister thought that you believed me to have kissed her then.”

  Miss Winters looked away.

  “I did no such thing,” he protested, fervently, wishing there was a way for him to almost force her to believe him. “I did not want Miss Ruthford’s affections, Miss Winters, not when I do not have even the slightest fondness for her in my heart.”

  She looked up at him then, her eyes glistening with fresh tears.

  “You are the only one I have thought of, ever since I was first introduced to you,” he vowed, taking another step closer and reaching out one hand towards her. “Can you not see the truth in my eyes? Can you not hear the honesty in my voice? After what we have shared, can you not allow yourself to believe that I am in earnest?”

  The air grew thick with tension as he looked at her steadily, praying that she would believe him. His jaw worked hard as Miss Winters looked back into his face, blinking rapidly as she held back her tears. Francis felt his stomach tighten with tension, his hand grasping his cane fiercely so as to steady himself.

  “I – I have told myself that such a thing is nothing more than ridiculous,” she admitted, a stray tendril brushing her temple as she wiped a tear from her lashes. “I told myself that I was foolish to let myself feel so much for you, especially when we did not know one another particularly well and especially since I could barely hold a conversation with you without losing myself in embarrassment.” To his relief, a small, delicate smile appeared on her lips, softening her expression and stealing away the sadness that had lain in her eyes. “You are the only gentleman who has ever made any effort to see what lies beneath my struggle, the only one who has ever sought to aid me in whatever way they can. How could my heart resist such tenderness?”

  Relief coursed through his veins, making his frame soften completely. Holding out his hand to her, he saw her look down at it and then smile, reaching out to take a hold of it with trembling fingers.

  “You were the one who wrote to me, were you not?” he said, quietly, looking deeply into her eyes and seeing the truth there. “You took pity on my suffering and wrote your words of encouragement, of hope and of comfort.”

  She nodded, looking away as though embarrassed. “Your stepmother had meant to throw your letter on the flames,” she admitted, sadly. “I mayhap did wrong in reading it but once I had done so, I knew I had no other choice but to reply to you. I did not imagine that my words would
ever have such an effect as you claim.”

  “They touched my very heart,” he reassured her, taking a small step closer to her. “Even now, I still hold that letter close to me.” So saying, he opened his jacket and pulled out, from within his breast pocket, the carefully folded letter. He saw her eyes widen, one hand straying to her mouth in shock. “I hold them near to my heart,” he said, softly, replacing the letter and taking her hand again. “But I would have something better, Miss Winters – Caroline.” Smiling gently, he felt his heart lift within his chest, his anticipation rising steadily. “I would have you as my wife.”

  A strangled gasp escaped from her mouth, her eyes flaring with wonder.

  “I believe you have captured my heart,” Francis said, honestly, aware that she was now so close to him that all he had to do was lower his head to kiss her. Her nearness burned his senses, his blood running hot in his veins. “I know there is more for me to know of you and more for you to know of me, but say that you will allow us to continue to twine our hearts together? Say that you will be my bride, Caroline. It would be an occasion that I know would carry us through the rest of life with nothing more than contentment and joy in our hearts.”

  Caroline said nothing for some moments, struggling hard with her emotions. Her free hand reached up to rest lightly against his chest and Francis felt his heart soar to the skies. He already knew what her answer would be.

  “I fear that my heart will never belong to anyone other than you, Lord Stanway,” she whispered, her eyes fastened on his. “This is more wondrous than I ever expected, for to be here, in your arms and to hear you declare such affections is utterly astonishing.” She smiled up at him, a happiness in her expression that he had never glimpsed before. “Yes, Lord Stanway, I will be your wife. I will marry you and, in the days to come, vow to love you with all that I have.”

  Joy erupted within him and, dropping his cane to the floor, Francis settled both hands about her waist and pulled her close to him. The ache in his leg did not even make itself known as he gazed down into her eyes, feeling the love they shared wrap around them both, tugging them even closer to each other.

  “I shall love you for the rest of my days, Caroline,” he promised. “My heart is yours forever.” And, so saying, Francis lowered his head to capture her soft lips in a sweet, gentle kiss.

  The End

  Book 3. To Love a Marquess - Ann

  PROLOGUE

  Miss Ann Winters to Miss Caroline Winters

  London, MAYFAIR.

  Dear Caro,

  I hope this finds you well despite the horrendous circumstance that has befallen our family.

  I struggle between my sadness of what has befallen Beatrice and my joy at your engagement to the Earl of Stanway. Your encounter stirs the soul and leaves me hopeful that such a love match will be the outcome of my coming out this Season.

  I must confess that I already have lost my heart if not yet my reason to a particular gentleman.

  Please do not instantly reply to my missive with a tedious lecture on the matters of the heart. Especially once you find out whom it is.

  That said, I suspect you already know of what I am alluding to as Theodora is not one for keeping a secret since her marriage to the Duke of Sotheby.

  Oh dear Caro, I pray that you understand. The very moment I saw the Marquess of Penderstone come to the rescue of our dear Beatrice months ago, my heart was lost. Surely this kind of courage and chivalry does not belong in the hands of a scoundrel or rogue?

  Be that as it may, I choose to believe that such is not the case. Surely my heart will not steer me false?

  Soon I shall have my debut. Theodora has planned it for the next couple of weeks. I am disappointed that you shall not be here to cheer me on, however I understand that you cannot step away from Beatrice’s company at the moment.

  I thank God that after 6 months of convalescence she has finally regained consciousness and pray daily that she shall also regain her memory. I cannot bear the thought that she not recognise me. I know you have already explained that it is only the last year of memory she has lost, but what if the memory loss spreads like a virus – I shudder at the thought!

  I apologise my dear Caro for rambling on. I fear my nerves are frayed as I shall shortly be making the Marquess’ acquaintance. I pray, he is all that I have imagined and that he notices me.

  Take care of our dear sister and of yourself. I look forward to meeting the Earl of Stanway upon your return to the capital.

  Your affectionate sister,

  A.Winters

  ONE

  Miss Ann Winters, the youngest of the four daughters of the Viscount of Lockley, was almost giddy with excitement. Her heart was fluttering, her hands pressed together in front of her as she let her gaze run across the room, trying to make out each and every gentleman as he walked by.

  Some had a lady on their arm, some were laughing with an acquaintance or two and some were simply wandering alone, looking for someone to become introduced to.

  Ann had her eyes and mind set on only one of them.

  “You must not be so overtly eager,” her sister Theodora, Duchess of Sotheby, murmured out of the corner of her mouth. “I know that you think very well of the Marquess, especially after what he did for Beatrice but he is by all account, something of a rake.”

  “That is nothing but a rumour, I am certain of it,” Ann replied, her green eyes sparkling with delight as she brushed a blonde curl from her forehead and back behind her ear. “I cannot tell you just how eager I am to see him again.”

  The way the Marquess had managed to grasp the bridle of Beatrice’s horse that had been spooked in Hyde Park had been nothing short of brilliant. In doing so, he had rescued her from what Ann was certain would have been a most dreadful accident.

  It was unfortunate that this did not prevent Beatrice’s mishap. Ann grimaced at the memory. Beatrice, clumsy as she was, had thumped her head when she fell out of the carriage, when it was already at a standstill no less.

  But Ann’s admiration for the Marquess had taken on epic proportions since that moment and she had waited patiently for this moment.

  They were finally to be formally introduced.

  Her hands were sweating, despite the gloves she wore. She bit her lower lip. It was proving impossible to steady her erratic pulse.

  This was the opportunity she had been waiting for. She knew well enough that you only had one chance to make a first impression.

  “It is most fortunate that your husband is acquainted with him,” she breathed, her hand clasping tightly to Theodora’s. “And that you also know of him.”

  “I have been introduced to him, yes, but I have only found myself greeting him on one or two occasions,” Theodora replied, warning in her voice. “You must not allow your admiration of him to overwhelm your good sense, Ann. You must be able to consider his character carefully and allow all that is said about him to linger in your heart and mind. Otherwise, I fear that your desire to become well acquainted with him will turn to nought.”

  Ann did not listen, for her eyes had finally caught sight of the gentleman that had occupied her thoughts for so long.

  The Marquess of Penderstone.

  Her heart thumped furiously in her chest and she made to take a step forward, only for her sister to hold her back.

  “Good gracious, Ann,” Theodora said in a furious hiss. “Do you wish for everyone to know of what you are thinking? Do you wish to make a fool of yourself in front of him before your first meeting?”

  Heat rushed into Ann’s cheeks as her sister’s warnings hit home. She had been about to act without consideration and given that this was to be her introduction to the gentleman, she could not afford to make a cake of herself.

  “Do be patient,” Theodora continued, a little more quietly. “Look, Sotheby has gone to speak to him at this very moment. He will be with us soon.”

  Ann found her breath catching as the Duke gestured towards her and the Marquess of Penders
tone looked in her direction. For a moment, their eyes met and, at that moment, Ann felt her wildest dreams suddenly bursting into life.

  The Marquess was tall, broad-shouldered and carried himself with the gravitas that came with being a member of the peerage. His dark hair gleamed in the candle-lights. He was clean shaven and his Nordic blue eyes were bright with interest as he looked towards her again.

  Ann, swallowed hard. It seemed she had run out of saliva. She could barely breathe, one hand pressed to her chest as she waited for them both to draw near.

  Greeting him was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to her, Ann thought. She was certain that she had greeted him warmly, but looking into his eyes, she found that she could not quite recall what she had said. Praying that she had not been incoherent, she looked towards Theodora for a moment and saw that her sister was smiling, looking at the Marquess as he spoke.

  Aware that she should do the same, Ann returned her attention to the Marquess, who was now looking away from her. Her heart sank in her chest as she quickly placed a smile on her face, hoping to catch his eye again.

  “I have heard that you are recently engaged, Penderstone,” the Duke of Sotheby began, making Ann’s eyes widen in shock and her smile immediately begin to fade. “Although I confess I believe it to be nothing more than a rumour. Never have I met someone who is more of a confirmed bachelor than you, my dear Marquess.” He chuckled at this and, much to Ann’s relief, the Marquess also laughed, shaking his head in mock disbelief.