Love Stories of Enchanting Ladies: A Historical Regency Romance Collection

by Bridget Barton

  “Are you expecting anyone, darling? Mary, perhaps?”

  “I am not.”

  “Your Grace.” Terence entered the room with a tiny silver tray. A letter had been carefully placed in its centre.

  “What was that racket about, Terence?”

  “The letter, Your Grace. It’s from Scotland.” Terence hurried from the room.

  Phoebe laughed. “Oh if you could see your face, Robert!”

  “Shall I do the honours or would you like to.”

  “Please, Your Grace.” Phoebe bowed her head in a charmingly flirtatious way. Robert, once again thanked his lucky stars.

  “Hmm. Your good cousin, the Duke of Carlisle, will be visiting London. He requests if he may stay here.”

  “Oh. La! He is such a bore. You know, I don’t recall ever hearing of his lecherous behaviour prior to the last time he visited. Right after my father, God rest his soul, was taken from us. I happen to know he was absolutely devoted to the late Duchess. My father told me that the Duke had been heartbroken to lose his wife. She died in childbed.”

  “Grief has driven more men to baser things than being an obnoxious prig. I vote to have him here. However, if you do not wish it, I will alert him. I will of course, as a gentleman, make something up as to a reason why.” Atwater chuckled.

  Once more Phoebe giggled. “So when does my dear cousin arrive?”

  “Let’s see, September 2nd.”

  “Darling.”

  “Yes, love.”

  “This is September 2nd.”

  Atwater checked the newspaper. “Well, well. I guess the Duke will be making his arrival imminently. Wonderful.” He smiled wryly not having any idea of how things might turn out.

  *******

  Olivia was down to the last gold sovereign. She’d paid the hotel bill and sold Charlotte’s frocks. She had some gems and jewellery in her reticule. She’d also taken a pointer from her mentor and sewn other, more expensive pieces, into the hem of the frock she wore. She also had a pair of old-fashioned pockets sewn to a ribbon that she tied around her waist under her skirt. And she had the haphazard collection of silver Charlotte had made her steal from the Atwaters. It was time to pay a visit.

  She gathered everything she needed. She had the reticule, and the best frock she owned was on her body. She sat and waited at the top of the stairs until the Smothers boy left his post at the desk inside the hotel. And when he stepped out, she ran down the steps to see which way he went. Then she went the opposite.

  She was on her way to Regent Street.

  She hoped upon hope that the Atwaters would believe her. She’d acted horribly towards them. She wanted to apologize and return the silver and anything else she might have that possibly had belonged to Lady Judith Barton.

  She walked at a brisk pace so she wouldn’t lose her nerve. Why had she not listened to her first inklings as far as Charlotte Evans had been concerned? When they’d been in Spain, Olivia had thought there’d been peculiar occurrences. And when the real Lady Judith was ill, Olivia left the staff.

  The next time she’d seen Charlotte as Lady Judith she’d been alternately impressed and horrified. Where had the actual Lady gone?

  She’d told Duchess Atwater what had transpired, but then somehow everything had backfired. Olivia had found herself learning the art of the con artist. From Charlotte Evans.

  Conning was one thing, but when Charlotte began to talk murder, Olivia had become afraid of her. And, she reckoned, Charlotte Evans could smell fear.

  What had she done? Olivia not only found herself alone, she feared she would not be able to find domestic work. She had no letters of reference. The one she’d had from Lady Judith had disappeared. Of course, Olivia suspected Charlotte, but she’d gone through all of Charlotte’s belongings after she’d been taken to prison.

  The reference letter had been nowhere, and Olivia reckoned it had been destroyed. She prayed that by returning the silver pieces to Regent Street she would be able to procure another.

  *******

  “What do you mean he’s not in his cell, Lieutenant? This is highly improbable.” Colonel Drake was red in the face. All he needed was an attempted murderer disappearing from the confines of his prison.

  “Sir, he got to the window somehow. He actually filed through the bars. He must have begun his deed that very night. It’s been one month, and he managed to file through all eight bars. The file must have been hidden in his boot when we brought him in.”

  “In his boot? Why was the man not searched? Why was he not restrained while in the cell? Now you tell me that he’s escaped.”

  “Y-yes Sir. He’s escaped, Sir.”

  “Very well, what is the prisoner’s name?”

  “Wallace, Sir. Bruce Wallace.”

  ********

  Tom and Mary arrived at Regent Street. They generally indulged in their pastime of whist twice a week with the Atwaters, but after all the intense episodes of the previous months both couples had stayed close to home and regrouped for a few weeks. This evening, the games would re-establish their tradition.

  “Oh, la, Mary! You look lovely. I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you too. Tom and I have been getting down to married life.”

  “Oh, I see.” Phoebe winked at her friend, and they both began to giggle.

  “That’s not what I was referring to. Phoebe! For shame!” And they giggled some more.

  “Well, let’s get seated,” Atwater suggested.

  “Right.” Tom pulled a chair out for his wife, and the four sat around the card table for their game.

  “Before we begin, I must apologize for a rather, ah, unusual occurrence.”

  “Why, what happened Robert?” Tom looked at his friend with concern.

  “Oh, nothing dire, I can assure you, Lord Thomas and Lady Mary. However, today it’s come to my attention that my wife’s esteemed cousin, His Grace, the Duke of Carlisle is to arrive any moment, here at Regent Street. I sent Jimmy back with a note to let you know, but clearly you missed each other.”

  Tom and Mary were silent.

  “Come, it’s not as bad as all that. I’ve decided to give the chap a second chance.”

  “You’re a good man, Robert. It pains me a bit, but since you’re being so benevolent, I myself, will join in that with you. Darling?”

  Mary shrugged. “I’m willing. But if he acts at all like he did when last here, I will ask you to escort me home, husband.”

  “We’re agreed then!” Atwater glanced at Phoebe and picked up his glass to make a toast which the others joined in making.

  “Let’s get to the cards then!” Phoebe smiled.

  Atwater looked around the table at his wife and friends. The London season would begin in less than two months. It promised to be a good one. He sat and began the deal. Within minutes, all were engrossed in the game.

  The cards were going well. Phoebe and Atwater were winning, and the friends traded kidding words about the prowess of the others. Everyone was laughing, and in another hour, they would sit down to light supper.

  A knock on the sitting room door, from Terence, brought everyone’s attention back to the reality of the moment. “Your Grace, Duke Carlisle is arriving. His carriage is outside.”

  “Yes, yes, show him in, Terence. We’re going to give it another try with the old chap.”

  Terence hesitated for just a second, “As you wish, Your Grace.”

  A moment later, Carlisle hopped down the stairs and into the family sitting room on the street level. Atwater and Tom stood to greet him.

  He looked very well. He’d shed a great deal of weight and clearly had been spending time outdoors. He looked altogether healthy. And something else. He seemed happier.

  Carlisle shook the men’s hands in a seemingly uncharacteristic gesture, and then took a seat on the sofa after bringing Phoebe’s then Mary’s fingers to his lips.

  “You look positively wonderful, cousin, or I should say Your Grace.” Phoebe smiled as the
others nodded in agreement.

  “Cousin is a fine address in private, Phoebe. I will say I feel as well as ever in my life. I had an epiphany when I went back to Scotland over a year ago, dear Phoebe.”

  “Very good, Your Grace. It is happy news. We’re to have light supper in about an hour. Will you have champagne, or would you prefer brandy?” She was gracious, polite, not knowing how the Duke would respond.

  “I will have champagne, thank you. And, if I may, I’d like to say I’m pleasantly surprised to see all of you gathered together. If you don’t mind I’d like to say a few words.”

  The friends all looked at each other, then Atwater spoke. “Of course, Your Grace. The bottle stands before you, sir.”

  “Ah, thank you, Your Grace.” His eyes met each of theirs in turn. “As I said, I, relatively recently, found myself in a situation that caused me to rethink my entire life. I will not get into the details of the situation, only to say that I am here today, to offer my deepest, most sincere apologies for my behaviour on my last visit. I acted as an ogre, a prig. I’d like to apologize to your man, Terence, as well. And my most sincere apology goes to your maid, Lady Mary. The young Susan. I said awful things regarding her. I do not, necessarily, expect any of you to accept my words, but suffice it to say that I will spend the rest of my life proving to you all that I am not that lecherous being you met.”

  Once again, the friends looked around at each other, and Phoebe spoke for the group. “Your Grace. Your apology is most accepted. Please, join us in a toast.”

  “To Duke Carlisle.” Atwater raised his glass and the others joined, then Carlisle asked Atwater, “May I go and see your man, Duke Atwater?”

  “You may, Your Grace.”

  With that, Carlisle left the room, leaving the other four bursting with questions.

  “What do you suppose happened?” Mary wondered aloud.

  “To admit one’s wrongs and go about rectifying them. Well, that takes some deep soul searching. I respect the man,” Tom added.

  “Whatever it is, I’m very glad for it. He’s seems to be a much happier person.” Phoebe offered.

  “Here, here, I say. Another toast.” Atwater winked at them and lifted his glass.

  After about fifteen minutes, Carlisle came back into the room with a pleasant look on his face.

  *******

  Terence was in his sitting room off the butlery. Duke Carlisle had apologized to him. He was nearly in shock. He’d never seen such a change in a man, but he was glad for everyone involved that it had taken place. He could only reckon that the man had been spoken to by God.

  Terence uttered a prayer of thanks as he changed his jacket for serving supper. Terence put the twenty-five gold sovereigns Carlisle had given him as a tip for his service on the Duke’s last visit the year before into his desk drawer and locked it. Duke Carlisle had said he wished to make things right with everyone he’d offended on his last visit.

  “Terence?” There was a light knock on the open door of the butlery. He turned around at the sound of the voice he didn’t recognize. Olivia McGowan was standing in the doorway.

  “You never cease in your desire to show up where you are unwanted, do you, Miss McGowan?”

  “Terence, I … I have something that belongs to this house. I’d like to return it if I may.”

  “Oh, and what might that be?”

  She stepped into the butlery and laid a fabric wrapped package on the sideboard.

  “Go ahead, girl. Open it.”

  She opened the fabric to reveal a cluttered collection of silver. It was dark with tarnish, but the Atwater emblem on the tips of the handles could be clearly seen.

  Terence pulled his breath in sharply. “We need to share this with the Duke and Duchess.”

  “Whatever you say, Terence. However, please allow me to state, that although I behaved grossly inappropriately during my time and my visits here, I have never stolen anything in my life. I was forced to take the silver.”

  Terence looked her over as if trying to ascertain if she was lying. There was a long pause before he said, “I know you were forced to, Olivia. Please, come to the sitting room. I dare say you were obliged to do a great many things you were uncomfortable with while in the company of Charlotte Evans. It is good of you to come and return what was taken. And to ask forgiveness for your poor behaviour.”

  They went down the corridor that led from the servants’ hall and entered the sitting room.

  The others were chatting, the whist game having been forgotten when the Duke of Carlisle arrived. Terence led Olivia into the room. “Olivia McGowan, Your Grace.” Terence addressed Atwater, who along with Tom and Carlisle stood. Other than that, no one said anything.

  Olivia was dressed in a pale rose frock that set off her complexion. She’d removed her bonnet, and her hair was pulled back into a simple chignon.

  Carlisle stepped forward, “My Lady, will you sit?”

  Olivia looked at Phoebe. Phoebe nodded.

  “Will you have supper now, Your Grace?” Terence asked Phoebe.

  “Oh yes, Terence. And bring another glass and place setting, will you?”

  ********

  Supper had been delicious; the white soup had contained every manner of vegetable available from Mrs Crabtree’s garden. Biscuits, cold ham, cheese, dry cake and, for dessert, shortbread and trifle. The men drank wine, and the ladies had tea.

  The Atwaters and Radcliffes sat, happy and full and utterly amazed at the change that had come over Duke Carlisle. First for him to arrive and apologize to everyone, and now his appearance of being altogether smitten with Olivia McGowan added to the sense of unreality surrounding Carlisle’s visit.

  The two sat apart from the group, Carlisle regaling the girl with stories of the Scottish Highlands where his ancestral home, Duncan Castle, was located. Olivia looked enchanted.

  Phoebe turned to her husband and squeezed his hand. “Who knew?” she whispered.

  Terence and the new kitchen maid, Sally, had cleared away the plates and cutlery. Sally was sent up to bed upon finishing the dishes.

  In the sitting room, the Atwaters and Radcliffes had decided on another game or two of whist before calling an end to the night’s surprises. Carlisle and Olivia opted to stay with their conversation.

  About thirty minutes had passed. Phoebe asked for more champagne. “My darling … will you ring Terence for more of the bubbles?” She giggled.

  Atwater bowed, “As you wish, Your Grace.” They both laughed, and Robert rang Terence.

  The game continued, and after a bit, Phoebe glanced over at Robert. He shrugged. “You know, love, Terence may have fallen asleep. I’ll get the bottle.”

  “Thank you, darling.”

  Atwater rose and went to the closed door of the sitting room. He placed his hand on the handle just as the door flew open causing him to quickly jump back.

  “Well, well, well.” All heads turned at the sound of the east London accent that had just spoken. “You’ll do well to sit right back down, Your Grace.” The interloper closed and locked the door behind him.