Stranded With The Marquess (Regency Stories Book 1)

by Catherine Mayfair

  “You have gone quiet,” Paul said. “Is everything all right?”

  Matthew nodded, though Paul did not seem convinced judging by that raised eyebrow. “It has been quite the adventure,” he explained. “I am simply trying to settle back into life.”

  “It may take some time before you are readjusted after your plight.” He gave him a severe look and pointed a finger at him. “However, a woman is expecting you this weekend. From what your mother says, Elizabeth is expecting some exciting news. Could it be that she will be accepting your proposal?”

  Matthew forced a smile, wishing his uncle had not brought up the woman. Then a question occurred to him. “Uncle, what did Elizabeth say when she heard the ship had been lost at sea?”

  Paul shrugged his shoulders. “She said she looked forward to your return. Her father told me she went shopping when she received the news that you were found.”

  Matthew scrunched his brow. No word concerning his safety? Perhaps shopping was her way of dealing with stressful situations. Yet, perhaps he was seeing things that were not there.

  “Well, I have work to finish,” Paul said as he placed the now empty glass on his desk.

  “Yes, I have things I must see to, as well,” Matthew said as he walked over to the window and looked out across the square. As he stared out at the people walking past, he wondered if Amelia was also looking out her window and what she was seeing as she did so.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Saturday morning had dawned bright and beautiful, and though the sun had been shining through Amelia’s bedroom window, she did not feel its warmth. Emotions plagued her heart and soul, contradicting the outside weather, and Amelia wondered how she would make it through the day. This was the day Harold Crandleton would come calling, and she wished with all her might that he would not be the man who was announced at the appointed time. In her heart, she wanted Matthew to come, to hold her in his arms as he had done on the island. How she wished she could return to that beach, stranded once again with the man who left her breathless at every turn.

  “There we are,” her mother said as she placed the final pin in her chignon. It was not an elaborate coiffure but it was of the latest fashion—a mass of curls tied back with a strip of cloth that matched her green and white striped dress her mother had chosen for her to wear on this fateful occasion. “Now, stand up so I can take a look at you.”

  Amelia rose as her mother requested. Her mother looked this way and that, making Amelia turn in a circle to complete the inspection. The neckline fell well below what Amelia would have liked. Of course, if it was Matthew, she would have preened like a parrot. Unfortunately, she did not have the same desire to do so with Harold. Not that Harold would not enjoy the enticement of her bosom, but she feared he would not appreciate the rest of her as much as Matthew did.

  Her mother must have noticed her expression, for she asked, “What is wrong, my dear? Are you nervous?”

  Amelia shook her head. “No, Mother, I am fine,” she lied.

  Her mother pursed her lips. “I know you all too well. Now, tell me what is bothering you. There is no use hiding it from me.”

  Amelia turned to look at the woman who had borne her. Would her mother truly understand? What if she was to tell her mother what was on her heart and her mother berated her? Would she tell her father? If her father knew where her heart lay, he would be angrier than she had ever seen him? Yet, her heart was so heavy, she could nothing but go to her bed and sit on the edge, her hands clasped in her lap as she stared down at them.

  Her mother sat beside her. “Amelia, you know you can tell me anything.”

  “Yes, Mother, I know,” Amelia replied sadly. Perhaps it was time she told her mother a bit of the truth. “It is Harold. He is a good man, an intelligent man, and I know he will make a wonderful husband.”

  “Yes, he will, my love. And he will be happy.”

  Amelia shook her head. “For another woman I have no doubt that is true. However, my heart belongs to another.”

  “Oh, Amelia,” her mother said with a sigh. “It is Lord Albright, is it not?” Amelia nodded but did not reply. “You might be besotted with the marquess, but Harold is better for you. You have been through a great trauma, and it is well known that under great stress, a woman can become…close…to a man with whom she has been forced to spend time. Now, understand that this does not indicate true love but rather an attachment based on a mutual tragedy. Surviving a shipwreck must be one of the worst tragedies anyone can endure, so you must understand that what you feel for Lord Albright might not be what you imagine it to be. Nor might it be what he feels for you.” She took Amelia’s hand in hers. “Spend time with Harold. Once the two of you have connected once again, you will see that he is the man you should marry.”

  “But I do not love him. I have never loved him.”

  “Love is not always the way one decides when to marry,” her mother said. “You will learn to love Harold in time and in your own way, but to allow your heart to guide you in this way is not rational. For one, Lord Albright is a marquess. Of course that would be enticing to any young woman your age. Yet, to become a part of the nobility? That all may seem very exciting, but do you believe you are ready to be a part of that life? Think of your Aunt Martha. She married a Baron and it took years to be accepted by the ton. And in that time she suffered the cruel whispers of those who looked down upon her for coming from the Gentry.”

  “I realize all this, Mother,” Amelia said with a sigh. “However, the issue does not lie there.” She paused for a moment to gather her courage to voice aloud the root of her dilemma. “He is engaged to be married. I could not interfere in such matters and bring shame down upon us all.” She gave her mother a beseeching look. “I feel I do not complain much in life, but I do not understand how I am able love a man who I cannot have.”

  Her mother stood and walked to the mirror. “Love is a beautiful thing shared between two people,” she said as if speaking to her own reflection. “But then that is what is important, is it not? Two people?” She turned to Amelia. “You could walk away from Harold, but then what? Continue having feelings for a man who you more than likely will never see again? Where would you be then? Spinsterhood is not a natural way of life for us women. We were meant to be wed and to raise a family. However, spinsterhood is where you will find yourself if you keep thinking about a man with whom you have no chance to marry.”

  When her mother smiled, Amelia felt a rush of relief. “You are not angry with me?”

  “Angry?” her mother asked with a laugh. “Of course I am not angry. I am happy you shared this with me.” She returned to sit beside Amelia on the bed. “Here is what I propose.”

  Voices from the foyer came to their ears, and Amelia heard Harold’s distinct laugh, which was more like the call of a goose than human laughter. It made Amelia shiver.

  Her mother continued. “You will allow Harold to escort you around the garden. When he asks for your hand in marriage, you will accept it and put this notion of Lord Albright behind you. Once you do that, you will find the happiness you deserve. Trust me, my daughter, it will be for the best.”

  Although Amelia did not want to do as her mother suggested, she knew it was what she should do. It was time to end this reckless dream and plant her feet in reality, for only true love existed in stories.

  “I will, Mother,” she replied, forcing a smile she did not feel.

  Her mother stood. “Good. Now, let us wait a moment for your eyes to clear and then we will go and greet the man who will be your husband.”

  Amelia nodded and then her eyes wandered to the coat Matthew had given her. Perhaps she should have thrown it out, or given it away to charity, but she had found the idea difficult to even consider. However, it was a reminder of their adventure together, and sadly she knew that, just like her love for him, it would have to be removed from her life forever.

  ***

  “I must say, you look quite beautiful,” Harold said as he
and Amelia walked along the garden path. “Your dress brings out the green flecks in your eyes.”

  Amelia smiled, though she had no idea what he was talking about. Her eyes were blue and had not a single fleck of green in them. “Thank you, Harold,” she replied despite the man’s stretch of the truth. “That cravat is very becoming of you.” She was not sure what else to say. In all honesty, his cravat was the only piece of clothing he wore that was worthy of comment. His blue coat was an ill-fit with buttons close to popping off at any moment. A yellow shirt ruffle poked out through the openings between the buttons, and the combination of colors combined with the green breeches would have made a busker blush. One thing was certain, she would have to find a way of helping him with his clothing selection once they were married.

  Amelia glanced back at her mother, who trailed behind them. Not only was she there to chaperone, but she had said she also wanted to hear when Harold asked for her hand in marriage. What Amelia wished was that they would all leave her alone, but she knew that would not happen.

  “I am glad you returned safely,” Harold said as he came to a stop beneath a large oak tree. “I apologize for not being able to be there when your parents went to collect you, but I was conducting business for my father’s shop, and I simply had no way out of it.”

  “Of course,” Amelia replied. She trailed her fingertips in a tall birdbath and watched the water ripple, reminding her of the waves out on the sea that she and Matthew had spent hours watching on the beach. Then she shook her head. She did not need to be thinking of Matthew, not anymore, and especially not when another man was going to ask her to marry him.

  She turned to Harold and recognized the nervousness in the smile that lifted his round cheeks. “It was quite the adventure,” she said to ease his discomfort. “I am glad to be home, though.”

  “Well.” He cleared his throat. “I assume you know why I am here.” His breathing became shallow and his face reddened significantly, and Amelia wondered if the man would pass out.

  “I do,” she whispered. She felt pulled in two different directions. On one hand, she felt sorry that he was so uncomfortable in approaching her; no one should have to endure such difficulty. On the other hand, she wished he would leave and never return.

  She waited, and still he said nothing but rather pulled at the cravat. Her patience was running thin. If he did not ask her soon, she would return to the house and slam the door behind her. In all reality, that was what she hoped would happen.

  “I must admit that I am a bit nervous,” he said, still pulling the cravat away from his neck as if it was choking him. “Quite scared, in fact. However, I do not wish you to think less of me.”

  “Please, there is no need to be nervous. Go ahead.”

  He pulled a kerchief from a pocket and dabbed at the sweat that had built up on his forehead and ran down the sides of his face. “I want you to know that I will provide everything possible that I can afford for you. And as you raise our children, I will be an excellent father to them and husband to you.”

  “Yes, I know you will,” Amelia said, knowing the words to be true. He was a kind and gentle man, and she knew he would do his very best, even if she did not love him.

  “Well, I…” He pulled at the cravat again, his face now a deep puce. “Is it hot out here? Do you not think it is hot?”

  Something in the way the man put off asking had Amelia wondering if there was more to this situation than she knew. How could he be so nervous? Was he hiding something, just as she was?

  Amelia looked up at the sky, which was covered in clouds, and it reminded her of the storm that had taken her to what she and Matthew had thought was a far-off island. Although it had only been a week since they had been found, it felt as if they had left only moments before. How she wished she was back on that island with Matthew, laughing and sharing what was on their hearts. To sit by him at the fire telling stories and then lying beside one another in during the night.

  Since she was a child, she had dreamed of happiness, and she could not imagine bringing pain to someone else, not even the man beside her at this moment. “Harold, might I ask you something?” He gave her a nod. “Do you love me?”

  He glanced about and then leaned in and whispered, “I am sorry, but I do not.”

  Amelia nodded. “It is fine,” she said, though she wanted to laugh. “I believe, like me, you are being forced into a marriage that will make our parents happy but not us. Am I right in saying so?”

  Harold nodded. “You are.”

  It was as she suspected. “I cannot lie to you and tell you my heart belongs to you, for it belongs to another.”

  It was as if the man had melted away with relief as he let out a heavy sigh. “That is the happiest news I have ever heard,” he exclaimed. “You are no doubt a very beautiful woman, and any man would be lucky to have you. But my heart belongs to Tabitha Newstead, the butcher’s daughter. My father did not want me to marry her because he and Mr. Newstead do not get on. So, he and your father made a deal that I would marry you instead. I only agreed to propose as a way to please my father.”

  Overcome with Joy, Amelia threw her arms around the man and then kissed his cheek. “You are my friend, Harold,” she said, “and I do cherish our friendship, but I believe we should both seek our own happiness. If Tabitha Newstead makes you happy, then I suggest you find a way to be with her.”

  Harold nodded emphatically. “I agree,” he replied. “In fact, I hope that somehow we will both be able to find happiness. Promise me one thing, though.”

  “Of course,” she replied with a wide smile. “Anything.”

  “When you find your happiness, will you let me know? I promise to do the same. That way we can prove that we’ve made the right decision, not just to each other, but to everyone else.”

  Amelia nodded. “I promise.”

  “Then we have an agreement,” he said, putting out his hand. She took it and he shook it with great vigor.

  Amelia glanced over at her mother. The woman did not look happy, nor did her father who was just walking up to stand beside her mother. “Our parents,” Amelia said in a near whisper. “What are we going to tell them?”

  “I will tell them the truth,” Harold said with a firmness she had never heard from him before. “That I love another and cannot, in good conscience, continue the relationship I have with you.” Then he turned to her, his eyes wide. “I ask one more thing.”

  “Of course.”

  “If your father plans to beat me, would you hold him off to aid my escape?”

  Amelia laughed. “Come. I will see you leave safe and free of harm.” With her arm through Harold’s, they walked up to her waiting parents. Her father wore a crooked smile that he oftentimes wore when he was uncertain how a deal would end.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Browning,” Harold said as he straightened his back, “it has been an honor getting to know your daughter, for a woman of such beauty and mind is a rarity.”

  “Thank you, my boy,” Amelia’s father said with what sounded like relief.

  “Within that,” Harold continued, “I must admit that I do not love her. It would be a mistake to ask for her hand, not only a mistake for myself, but for her as well. So, please realize that I choose not to ask, not because of what she has done but rather it was due to my own shortcomings.”

  Her father’s face went red and her mother shook her head. “I suppose I understand,” her father said after some silent deliberation. Amelia had wondered if the conversation would end in either a horrible outburst or complete resignation, and she was glad to see the latter win through. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

  “It is, sir. May another man of honor will ask for her hand, for it is a worthy hand to hold.”

  “Well, then it is decided,” Amelia’s father said, though he still did not sound happy about the outcome of the afternoon. “Let me escort you out.”

  Harold turned to Amelia. “I do hope the best for you.”

  �
�I know you do. Thank you.”

  Amelia and her mother watched the two men walk away. “I suppose that was your doing?” her mother asked without turning to look at Amelia.

  “He is in love with Tabitha Newstead,” Amelia said. “He found that he could not marry me while in love with her, not in good conscience, or so he said.”

  Her mother sighed. “That might be the truth, but this does not bring you any closer to Lord Albright. Just because Harold is no longer courting you does not mean that a marquess is going to come in and sweep you off your feet. Next week you will resume your attendance at parties, and hopefully, you will find a suitable husband.” With that, her mother walked away.

  Amelia smiled as she looked up at the sun that peeked out behind the clouds. It was true she would have to find someone eventually, but she knew no man could replace Matthew. Perhaps the answer was to become a spinster instead.

  Chapter Sixteen

  On Saturday just before midday, Matthew looked down at the silver locket and the two names inscribed upon it. It should have brought a smile to his face, and it would have had certain recent events not transpired. Before that fateful journey across the English Channel, before he had met Miss Amelia Browning, he was quite content in what his future held. Events were planned in his mind that would lead to he and Miss Elizabeth Stockton marrying and living out the remainder of their lives together.

  He had not been the one to purchase the locket. His mother had had it commissioned for him to give to his prospective bride, and he had thought it lovely idea. At the time, he had no other thoughts but to marry Elizabeth, so it was appropriate.

  Now, however, he did not want the same things as he did before. No, now he wished it was Amelia’s name that was inscribed on that locket, for it was she and not Elizabeth, who held his heart.