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

by Regina Darcy

  “Alas no,” he stated, watching the way Miss Winters expression fell at his words. “I fear that I am not in particularly fine fettle this evening, Miss Winters. I cannot satisfy your request.”

  Miss Winters’ shoulders dropped.

  “Oh,” she replied, looking thoroughly disappointed. “I see. Good evening, Lord Penderstone.”

  Before Charles could say anything else, Miss Winters turned on her heel and walked back to her seat, sitting down next to her sister.

  He allowed his gaze to linger on her for a moment or two, surprised at just how bold the young lady had been.

  “Goodness, that one will follow you around like a lap dog,” Lady Hedley commented quietly, her voice filled with laughter. “She seems quite taken with you, Penderstone – although I am certain she is not the first to have fallen for your charms!”

  “She certainly is the first one to speak to me in such a bold fashion,” he replied, not lifting his eyes from Miss Winters. “I confess, I am surprised by that.”

  Lady Hedley sniffed delicately.

  “She has not offered you anything akin to what I speak of,” she reminded him, her voice low. “She is not the only one who is bold.”

  Charles swung his gaze towards her.

  “You are not a debutante, Lady Hedley.”

  “No,” she agreed, her smile spreading across her face as she leaned towards him a little more. “No, indeed I am not. I am much more experienced. Do not forget it, Penderstone.”

  And, so saying, she was gone, sweeping away from him and allowing her presence to be torn from his side.

  Charles felt something begin to ache within him, regret burning inside as he let his eyes watch her moving across the room to talk to another.

  Why had he refused her? They had enjoyed a friendly acquaintance for some weeks and now, it seemed, she had decided to pin her attention upon him. He had very little idea as to whom she currently shared her favours with – although the rumour was that she was the former mistress of the Prince Regent – Charles did not quite believe that the story was true. Regardless, he simply could not understand why he had not accepted her, wondering if there was something wrong with him to have rejected such a beauty. It was certainly not for any moral reasons, his mistresses had been plenty and not far in between. At one point he actually had three mistresses at once. It had been an exhausting position to be in.

  Sighing, he returned his attention back to the young lady at the front of the room, surprised to see that it was none other than Miss Winters who now took her turn to perform. Sitting down at the pianoforte, she began to play and Charles was soon caught up in the music, letting it fill his mind and calm his frantic thoughts.

  Closing his eyes, he recalled how Miss Winters had spoken to him in such a bold fashion and the disappointment in her expression when he had refused her. There was a sense of admiration growing in him that she had been as forthright and as determined as that, although he was quite certain that he was not at all interested in sharing any sort of affection with her.

  One thing Charles was determined to do was to remain steadfastly unwed, so that he might enjoy his unmarried state – and the attentions that came with it – for as long as possible.

  Which meant that, of course, he would have to make sure to accept Lady Hedley’s offer just as soon as he was able.

  THREE

  It had now been three weeks since Ann had returned to London society and yet she felt a deep sense of dissatisfaction wrestling within her at almost every moment.

  She could not seem to catch the Marquess’ attention and it was becoming a deeply trying state of affairs. She had tried almost everything in order to get him to look at her again. To entice him to come towards her and mayhap ask for a few minutes in her company, but nothing had prevailed.

  The Marquess was, of course, often surrounded by young ladies and their mothers, or enjoying a conversation with a widow or lady of independent means, which meant there was very little opportunity for her to make herself known to him.

  Some weeks ago, she had attempted to be bold and to ask him to sing with her but he had refused her without even a moment of hesitation. Forced to retreat, she had stumbled back to her seat and felt her cheeks burn with mortification, only for Theodora to encourage her to play the pianoforte regardless of whether or not she had managed to secure the Marquess’ involvement. It had been a good plan and, thankfully, Ann had managed to play faultlessly, fully aware that the Marquess had watched her throughout her performance.

  That had been the extent of their interaction. They often greeted one another during social events or passed a few comments about whether one was enjoying the evening or not, but there was nothing more than that.

  The Marquess did not want to secure any young lady, it seemed, for he certainly did not pay anyone particular attention. That did not prohibit a myriad of rumours about his amorous assignation with various widows.

  Lady Hedley was often by his side, which was a struggle for Ann to see, for the lady garnered the Marquess’ attention in a way that Ann could not, and she found herself often filled with jealousy over such a thing. At least the woman’s name had not yet been mentioned as a paramour of the Marquess.

  Theodora and the Duke had, of course, attempted to encourage her to seek the attention of other gentlemen but Ann had still found herself drawn only towards one nobleman.

  She believed herself to be completely in love with the Marquess of Penderstone, sighing over him whenever he entered her thoughts.

  If only there was a way to show him that she was, in fact, the perfect companion for him! If only she could prove that she was entirely caught up by him and that, if he could only spare her a little bit of attention, she might prove herself to be everything he had ever desired.

  But that, it seemed, was foolishness. A foolishness her sister Caroline had not hesitated to set out in detail in her last correspondence.

  

  Miss Caroline Winters to Miss Ann Winters

  Somerset.

  Dear Ann,

  What a delight it was to get your message. You cannot imagine how trying it has been to help Beatrice recover. Papa is to no use as he is just so grateful that she has her memory back that he does not either wonder or worry that she does not remember her betrothed. Any diversion is welcome.

  It breaks my heart to see how William Percival aches for her. I only hope they find a way back to each other or this year only one of the Winters sisters will be wed.

  But whatever is this nonsense about the Marquess of Penderstone? He is known even to my dear Stanway, who declares him the worst of rogues. Apparently Casanova is nothing compared to him. Men hide their wives and daughters with him in the vicinity.

  However Stanway has stated that he is not known for deflowering virgins, so I am reassured that although you foolishly are trying to capture his attention, he is unlikely to compromise your virtue.

  But please do regain your senses Ann. One cannot love someone one does not know – it goes against any logic. Besides if you have not caught his eye at the first encounter what makes you think a second or third will make a difference?

  I know you are of the belief that there is a connection between the two of you, but I fear for you sister mine. I fear the connection only lives within your heart and that when you will finally realise the truth of it, the blow will be more crushing than you can imagine.

  Know that I take no pleasure in writing these words. I wish for you to find the kind of love I share with the Earl and Theodora with the Duke. Anything else is but a mirage of affections.

  Should all matters not present themselves in the manner you had hoped for, do not hesitate to send me a missive. I shall come to you in all haste, with Beatrice in tow!

  Your beloved sister,

  C. Winters

  

  “Good evening, Miss Winters.”

  Ann kept her sigh inward with an effort, looking up into the eager face of the Viscount of Gregson, who had
been often at her side these last few weeks. He was a kind gentleman, it seemed, with thick, fair hair and a charming smile that Ann was certain would steal the heart of any young debutante he thought to share it with – all save for her, of course.

  “Good evening, Lord Gregson,” she murmured, handing him her dance-card without him even having to ask for it.

  This seemed to be of great encouragement to the gentleman, for his eyes widened slightly as he saw her hold it out and it was a moment or two before he took it from her dangling wrist.

  “Two dances, if I may, Miss Winters?”

  She nodded, not seeing any particular reason why she should refuse him and yet wishing that she did not have to accept. Lord Gregson was kind enough, yes, and certainly a gentleman with a title and fortune, but nothing about him caught at her mind or heart. There was no interest there.

  “Thank you, Lord Gregson,” she murmured, seeing him smile down into her eyes but managing to conjure up nothing more than a lacklustre smile in return. “I look forward to our first dance.”

  Lord Gregson nodded and, clearly sensing that she wished to end their conversation, moved away.

  “You must show a little more interest,” Theodora chided, gently. “There is nothing wrong with Lord Gregson. He is a kind gentleman and would do very well for you.”

  Ann prevented herself from rolling her eyes just in time.

  “And then there is Lord Lucas, who has also been very attentive.”

  “I do not wish to hear a list of gentlemen that you think I ought to consider, Theodora,” Ann replied, stiffly. “I know that you wish my best but I still cannot remove my attention from the Marquess of Penderstone.”

  A small groan slipped from Theodora’s mouth.

  “You are being quite ridiculous, Ann. Can you not see that he is nothing more than a rogue who, whilst he enjoys the company and conversation of those who surround him, has no intention for anything other than his own pleasures?”

  Ann winced, knowing that her sister spoke the truth but finding that she did not care.

  “I am certain that if he knew how I cared for him, that he might then reconsider his path,” she told Theodora, who threw up her hands in exasperation. “Surely there must be something in that?”

  “No!” Theodora exclaimed. “No, there is not. The gentleman has shown no interest in you. He only seeks women of easy virtue. You must forget him, if you can.”

  Ann sighed heavily and made to defend the Marquess again, only for another gentleman to come towards them, greeting them both.

  As she had done so often before, Ann drew in a breath, pasted on a smile and settled her shoulders, so that she appeared as gracious and as genteel as ever. In doing so, she found her dance-card to be slowly filling up with gentlemen seeking to dance with her, although her heart was not delighted with any of them.

  

  “Thank you, Miss Winters.”

  She smiled but did not speak, having forgotten the gentleman’s title and not seeking to embarrass herself.

  “I do look forward to our next dance later this evening.”

  “As do I,” she lied, allowing him to lead her from the floor. Looking about for her sister, she saw her conversing with an older lady whom Ann knew to be Lady Wiltshire. Excusing herself from her companion, Ann made to walk back towards her sister, only for something to capture her attention.

  Her breath caught. It was none other than the Marquess. He did not look to be particularly well, for he was holding onto the rail with two hands as he carefully climbed the short staircase that led from the ballroom. Ann hesitated, watching him as he reached the top. He swayed, before leaning forward and rubbing at his forehead.

  He is ill.

  Fear leapt into her throat.

  Where were his friends?

  Where were those who surrounded him almost constantly?

  Could they not see that he was unwell?

  Had they not thought to attend him as he struggled to find his way to somewhere he might rest?

  Without hesitating, without even thinking, Ann hurried after him, making her way through the crowd of guests and never once removing her gaze from the Marquess’ retreating back.

  Unfortunately for Ann, the Marquess had disappeared from sight by the time she reached the top of the small staircase. It would be most unwise to go in search of him alone, Ann knew, but her concern for him outweighed all sense.

  She had to find him, she told herself. He might be vastly unwell and have no-one with him with which he might be able to depend. A doctor might be needed. Her heart hammered furiously – and with one quick look over her shoulder which confirmed that Theodora had not spotted her, Ann quickened her steps and walked forward towards the hallway and the rooms which lay beyond.

  “Lord Penderstone?”

  Her voice was quiet and tentative, her heart beating so quickly that she was certain the sound would echo off the walls. There were no servants to be seen, given that most of them would be busy working in the ballroom and taking care of the guests. Panic stole her breath. What would she do if she came across him, unwell and struggling for air? Whom could she call? She had to pray that there would be a bell or some such thing that she might ring in order to call for help.

  The sound of something crashing to the floor had her stop dead, listening carefully as to where it might have come from. The sound of muttering caught her ears, making her let out a long breath of relief. Apparently, the Marquess was not as unwell as she had feared, although she still had to discover him.

  Moving slowly along the hallway, her slipper-clad feet making very little noise, Ann suddenly saw a door that was a little ajar.

  Was that where the Marquess had gone?

  Was he within?

  Hurrying forward, she pushed the door open further, just in time to see the Marquess collapse backwards onto a couch.

  “My lord Penderstone!”

  She hurried in at once, her eyes wide with fear as she rushed to his side.

  “My lord, are you unwell?”

  The Marquess groaned aloud and managed to open one eye, his brow furrowed terribly. He did not look at all himself, his face pale and his eyes squinting at her.

  “My lord,” Ann said again, desperately. “What shall I do? Shall I call someone?”

  “You can just sit down here.”

  Much to her surprise – and her shock – the Marquess spoke with something of a slur to his words. A grin tipped the corner of his mouth, making it something of a leer, and his eyes closed again as he spoke.

  She realised the horrible truth, shame bursting over her as embarrassment sat like a crown on her head.

  The Marquess of Penderstone was in his cups.

  He was not unwell; he was not overcome with sickness. There was no need to call a doctor nor to fear that he would worsen without attention. It seemed that all he needed to do was to sleep and to recover from the amount of liquor he had imbibed.

  She closed her eyes, swaying slightly as she stood up from where she had bent over him. There was nothing for her to do at this present moment other than return to the ballroom. To stay here would be foolish indeed, for if they were discovered, then it would be disastrous for her reputation.

  Making to walk away as quickly as she could, knowing that to remain would bring shame not only on her but also upon her sisters, father and the Duke, Ann was astonished when the Marquess reached out and grasped her hand, holding it tightly. She had not expected him to do such a thing and certainly had not thought he would have enough strength to hold onto her with such determination.

  “My lord Penderstone,” she said, as firmly as she could despite the quickening of her heart. “I must return to the ball.”

  “No,” he said, decisively, his eyes opening again as he looked up with her. “I think you are to stay here with me.”

  Ann felt fear clutch at her heart – but it did not linger for long. the Marquess, clearly still in the clutches of too much liquor, soon loosened his grip upon h
er hand and, with his eyes fluttering closed again, fell back against the cushions.

  Ann went very still, not at all certain what the more prudent course of action would be.

  Her good sense told her that she ought to leave, as was proper, for to be caught in a room alone with the Marquess would be disastrous in terms of her reputation, for she knew precisely what the outcome of such as scandal would be.

  “It would mean that we would have to wed,” she whispered softly to herself, seeing the truth of it jump out at her and grasp at her heart.

  It was not at all what she should do, for to enter into a marriage under these sort of circumstances would not be conducive to either her or the Marquess’ happiness.

  But marriage was meant to last a lifetime, was it not? Therefore, she reasoned, even if they had a difficult beginning, with the Marquess angry with what had occurred, he might come to love her in the end. Besides which, she would not be entirely to blame, given that he had caught her hand and begged her to stay.

  Guilt twisted her heart. Ann knew full well what she should do but the longings of her heart were making it more than a little difficult to think clearly.

  Looking down upon the Marquess, seeing the handsomeness of his face and recalling the heroic way he had saved Beatrice from her spooked horse filled her with both deep affection and an unrelenting longing that would not leave her. But yet, in the midst of it all, the thought of her sister Theodora made her reconsider.

  Theodora had been very good to her in ensuring that Ann had the most wonderful of Seasons, in the hope that she would find love and security in the same way as both Theodora and Ann’s other sisters, Caroline and Beatrice had done. It would not be fair to Theodora to behave in an uncouth manner that would bring about disgrace to the Vice-county of Lockley or the Duchy of Sotheby. As much as she desired to linger, as much as she wanted to stay with the Marquess and to force them into marriage, Ann knew she could not do so.