Love Stories of Enchanting Ladies: A Historical Regency Romance Collection

by Bridget Barton

  She had heard herself quite determined that he should not stop using the morning room as a through route to the outside world. Why had she done that? If she did not like the man at all, Eliza knew that she would have much preferred him to find a different means of exit just as he had offered to do.

  And she knew that she had smiled at him with her old warmth, albeit only for the briefest of moments. But his eyes had widened just a little as if he had noticed, and it was as if he had seen that tiny chink in her armour. She had, of course, immediately drawn back and made herself as aloof as Daniel Winchester, if not more so.

  As she continued to peer out, she could see that he was now some distance away, although still clearly visible. He turned slowly as if to look back towards the house, and Eliza instinctively stepped to one side to hide behind the long curtain which fluttered at the side of the still open door, caught on the very faintest of breezes.

  He turned away again and stood with his hands clasped behind his back and seemed to be staring off into the distance towards the dense woodland on the edge of the estate.

  All in all, Daniel Winchester was an unusual figure, a man who would certainly take some deciphering. But why on earth should she of all people want to decipher him? After all, he was nothing to her. He was her husband’s attorney, not hers, and someone she would likely never be particularly familiar with.

  And yet still she stared out at him from behind the cover of the curtain. He was, as always, immaculately dressed in tan coloured breeches and black knee boots over which he wore a waistcoat and tailcoat of olive green. The colour suited his fair hair very well indeed, and even his strangely pale blue eyes.

  He certainly looked as fine as any young man she had met in Lady Dearborn’s drawing room, Miles Gainsborough included. Whilst it was true to say that he was not as young as Miles, nor as classically handsome, his appearance altogether marked him out as equal to any man of any class.

  But whereas Miles had always seemed to her an open book, a man so very easy to read, Daniel Winchester was surely his opposite.

  And there was something about the attorney’s height and broad build that seemed to mark him out as a man and make Miles Gainsborough, in comparison, seem rather more of a boy.

  “This is ridiculous, what foolishness is this?” she whispered quietly to herself before finally turning away from the window.

  As she pulled her cloak around her shoulders and tied it at the neck, she knew that there was little point in comparing her old love with her husband’s attorney. It was like comparing apples to fish in that it was utterly without point.

  What upended her more than anything was the idea that Daniel Winchester, a man who should have been of no importance or interest to her, was now somehow in her life whereas Miles Gainsborough was not and never would be again.

  If only she had not thought of Miles, even with the idea of making a comparison. Eliza had spent weeks doing everything in her power to divert every thought of him, every image which sprang to her mind, in any way she could.

  She simply could not allow herself to remember a time, just weeks before when everything in her world had felt so sure, when she had known herself to be on the right path.

  She could not have imagined then how greatly her world would change, how it would be everything she would never have suspected.

  Every so often, it truly hit her that she was married to an old Duke, one she cared nothing for, and the greatest love of her life was out there in the world having abandoned her to her fate. It was that, more than anything, that still tore at her heart. It was bad enough that her father had sacrificed her, that her whole family had, but she had never believed for a moment that Miles Gainsborough could so easily turn his back.

  As she pulled on the green bonnet, careful not to disarrange her shining brown hair, Eliza felt the familiar hurt, the hurt that was still so great that she almost dared not face it. And with it came the tears that she had been so determined not to shed ever again.

  As she tied the ribbons of her bonnet, Eliza’s sudden sense of desolation almost floored her. Her breathing was growing ragged, and she knew that she was in danger of her few tears turning into a sensational bout of heartfelt weeping.

  Trying to master her emotions, Eliza furiously dabbed her face with a handkerchief and slowed her breathing as best she could. When she looked up, it was to see Daniel Winchester much closer to the house than he had been, determinedly making his way back to the morning room.

  Something about that self-contained man drew her up short, and her tears ceased immediately. Once again, a little sense of annoyance at him took over, and she was able to use it to take her mind off the things which were hurting her the most, just as it had been that day in the chapel.

  Well, if nothing else, Daniel Winchester would serve that much of a purpose. And yet, at the same time, she was certain that there was very much more to him than that.

  Turning to make her way out of the room before his imminent return, Eliza decided to think no more of any of it for a while. She would just enjoy her afternoon of bridge for what it was and concentrate fully on the company of her dearest friend, Ariadne.

  Chapter 6

  “So, how do you find yourself settling in here at Lytton Hall, Eliza?” Augustus had joined her in the drawing room after dinner and seemed intent on making conversation.

  Eliza had been the Duchess of Lytton for almost three months now, and she realized just how little time she had spent with her new husband.

  Throughout the day he seemed to always be absent, and she had very little idea what it was he did with his time in between breakfast and afternoon tea, sometimes even dinner if she did not see him in the afternoon. And she was not at all upset by that arrangement, preferring to have the day to herself if she was to spend all night at his side.

  “I have settled in well, Augustus,” she said simply, never wanting him to think that she was happy for a moment.

  Whilst he had never treated her badly, he had still purchased her from her father, and for that, she would never forgive him.

  As much as she pitied him at times, sensing that he would have given anything to feel even the slightest attraction on her part, still Eliza would never lose sight of the fact that he was the man, alongside her father, who had taken control of her life.

  She did not want to be at war with him for she knew it would be a very long life at Lytton Hall if that were the case, but she did not want him to feel a great deal of comfort in her company either, he did not deserve it.

  “And you are pleased with Lytton Hall?” he went on, his words seeming to run into each other a little.

  “Yes, you have a very fine home, Augustus.”

  “But it is your home too now my dear, is it not?” he said and frowned a little before swallowing down the rest of his brandy and reaching out for the decanter immediately to pour himself another.

  It seemed to be his way of doing things. After dinner, Augustus Tate, more often than not, retreated to the drawing room to his armchair, alongside which was a small table already set with a full decanter and a single glass.

  Not that Eliza would have thanked him for a glass of brandy for she did not like it, even the smell as it made its way across the room was unpleasant to her.

  Some nights he drank more than others, and it was easy to see when she allowed her gaze to flicker to the decanter to note the degree to which it had been depleted.

  Looking again, she could see that Augustus had already made his way halfway down the beautiful crystal container and also that he showed no signs of stopping. That at least accounted for his slurred words and his heightened colour.

  “Oh yes, of course,” she said and gave him a light, brittle smile. “I daresay it takes a little time to get used to such things, Augustus. After all, every day of my life has previously been spent in my father’s house.”

  “But that is not your home anymore,” he said, and his voice was low and dull.

  “No, it is not
my home anymore.”

  “I would have hoped by now that you would be settling into your new life,” he went on, and she could hardly tell if he was saddened or annoyed by her seeming lack of commitment.

  “Forgive me, Augustus, but I am still coming to terms with the sudden change in direction,” she said, wishing she could simply let it go but knowing that was impossible.

  He could not demand that she show every enthusiasm for the dreadful changes that had taken place in her world, and she certainly did not want him to think that she would ever display any true signs of pleasure at either being his wife or living at Lytton Hall.

  “Meaning what, precisely?” There was something in his tone which made her suddenly feel a little cautious.

  But he had never been cruel before, and so she continued in the same vein.

  “You must surely know, Augustus, that I was already engaged to be married to somebody else when you and my father came to your arrangement. I am sure that you are in no doubt that I had little say in the matter unless, of course, I wished to see my entire family in financial penury.”

  “You seem a little annoyed that I rescued your family, Eliza.”

  “I am not annoyed that you rescued my family, Augustus. I am just trying to adjust to a sudden change in circumstances as I said before. I had expected my life to move in a certain way, and it did not. I hardly think that it can be expected of me to be instantly enthusiastic when I am still coming to terms with some very great losses.”

  “Perhaps not instantly enthusiastic, but you could certainly be a little warmer than you are.” He put his brandy glass down on the small oak table rather heavily, and the noise it made startled her.

  “I can only be as I am, Sir,” she said and thought that really ought to be explanation enough.

  Eliza was fighting the old anger, the old sense of injustice that she had felt from the moment her father had laid his own burdens on her shoulders. Not only was she expected to ignore her own heart and her own wants, but now she was expected to display gratitude and warmth at the same time.

  It was all so insufferable, and yet she knew she must exercise a little caution now. After all, she had never seen her new husband in such a mood before, and she knew she did not know him well enough to either know how it would end or to find some way of counteracting its effects.

  She looked over at him and smiled as warmly as she could manage. Once again, she tried to engender that feeling of pity as she looked at him.

  He really was so far away from being a fine figure of a man with his somewhat short stature, overly thickened middle, and thinning pale hair that she could not quite decide was red or blonde. It was just a washed-out sort of colour which clung in tufts around the sides and the back of his head, deserting the front and the top almost entirely.

  He was only a little older than her father, and yet, in terms of physical health, they could not have been more different. It was true that her father’s hair was almost entirely grey, and yet the rest of his physique had not followed in its wake. He was still an upright man who had not allowed himself to run to fat as the Duke had done.

  Eliza was well aware that the Duke’s first wife had died many years before, and she realized that his life must surely have been very lonely ever since.

  Whilst he had many acquaintances who visited Lytton Hall often, they were of the sycophantic variety, the sort that one could never truly call friends.

  Perhaps that was why he kept Daniel Winchester so close to the hall, giving him work that was clearly outside the remit of any other attorney. It struck her that he deferred to Daniel so much that he treated him almost as a confidante, and for that she really could feel pity.

  “You can only be as you are, can you?” he said gruffly, gaining her attention fully.

  “Well, I am sure that I will settle in time.” Again, she spoke without commitment.

  “Perhaps your ability to only be as you are would explain why it is that you are not yet with child, Eliza,” he said and reached for his brandy glass again, this time draining its entire contents in two gulps.

  Eliza was so taken aback by the question, the whole thing seeming to be so sudden and out of place, that her cheeks immediately flushed, and she felt curiously humiliated.

  “I beg your pardon, Augustus?” she said, her voice high and querulous like that of a child.

  “You have been here for three months, Eliza. I would have expected some news from you by now. After all, you must have realized that there would be more to being the Duchess here than simply a fine home and excellent gowns.”

  “I … I …” Eliza was so taken aback that she could hardly find her words.

  Her first instinct had been to tell him that his fine home and the excellent gowns he had provided for her meant less than nothing to her. She was almost as furious at his insinuation that she found anything about her circumstances to like as much as she was furious at his sudden intrusive questioning.

  “As you know, I had no children with my first wife, and the idea of me continuing with no heir is insupportable. That is why I chose such a young bride this time, someone whose father had assured me was in the peak of physical fitness and an exceptional candidate in terms of childbearing.” His countenance had darkened to such an extent that she barely recognized him.

  For the first time since she had arrived at Lytton Hall, she wondered if there truly was an ogre of some kind beneath the seemingly mild manners. Perhaps she was not as safe in her world as she had assured Ariadne she was.

  But her fear was quickly tempered with anger once again at the very idea her father had discussed her in such terms. What a fool she had been to save the estate of a man who would, in the end, discuss his daughter as if she were no better than cattle, breeding stock.

  “You sit there with such a haughty look, Eliza, and yet I see you have no answer for me,” Augustus said, clearly perceiving her annoyance. “Well?” he spoke loudly, startling her again.

  “I am afraid that I do not have an answer for it, Sir. It is impossible for me to say when such a thing might happen, is it not?”

  “I realize you do not yet know me well, Eliza, but I feel I ought to inform you that I do not suffer belligerence in women.” He lifted the decanter once more and filled his brandy glass to the very brim.

  There was something dangerous in his manner, something she could not have described to anybody. It was not a tangible thing; it was just a feeling, an instinct. It unsettled her so much that she hardly knew how to proceed.

  “Forgive me, Sir, I did not mean to give offence,” she said, almost choking on the words but knowing that she must capitulate for her own sake.

  “Very well,” he said, and she breathed a sigh of relief when it seemed that his sudden flash of anger had been quelled. “But I expect you to try a little harder in future. I do not want too many more months to go by with no sign of my heir, do you understand me?”

  “Yes,” she said, wondering how on earth she could possibly do anything to influence such an uncertain outcome.

  “Well, now that we understand one another, you may go to bed,” he said and looked away from her as if he was doing no more than dismissing a servant.

  It was still a little light outside, and something about it made her feel diminished, like a child who had been naughty and was being sent to bed early.

  Without a word, she rose to her feet and nodded in his direction without letting her gaze fall upon him. She walked noiselessly from the room, and by the time she had closed the door to the drawing room behind her, tears of fear and shame were rolling down her cheeks.

  He really had frightened her, perhaps almost as much as he had angered her. The maelstrom of feelings, all of them negative, seemed to be having an almost physical effect on her, and she was by turns so furious that she clenched her fists, and so afraid that she wanted to do nothing more than run out of Lytton Hall and keep running until she was far away.