Regency Romances for the Ages

by Grace Fletcher

  “Why did no one tell me?” she whispered, shocked beyond measure at the revelation.

  “Da wanted to protect his little miss royalty,” snapped Henrietta, “And one more thing, girl. That duke will never look at you again. They only marry into business deals and contacts; there is no love between you two. Your Romeo is already dead.”

  With that, she chucked the book at her feet before marching out the door with Laura at her heels. Eleanor just stood there, sobbing as Anne picked up her book and hugged her, trying to console her through comforting words. But they were all in vain as she stood, weeping into her sister’s shoulder.

  Chapter 10

  Happiness

  over

  Responsibility

  T wo weeks passed before they heard anything of importance from their father in London. Eleanor had mailed a letter every single day, hoping against hope for a reply, but alas, none had come. The weeks had been some of the hardest that Eleanor had ever spent. It was not because they were bankrupt; she had grown up in poverty and had absolutely no problem with hard labor. Rather, they were hard due to her mental health deteriorating rapidly under the pressures of a broken heart, stress, depression and worry.

  Her sisters’ attitudes hadn’t helped. Anne had been her usual self and had even tied her hardest to cheer her up but it had had no effect. Eleanor had felt more despondent than ever. Laura had ignored her completely while Henrietta had wasted not a single opportunity to chastise her and throw taunts at her repeatedly. Perhaps she was jealous or perhaps that was the only way for her to let out her own misery at the family’s situation. Either way, Eleanor had decided to bear the brunt of it, for her aunt’s sake if not her sister’s. She still hadn’t gotten past the screaming from the first day as she despised any and every kind of conflict.

  It was only after two weeks did they receive news from the capital. After two weeks of complete silence, they were afraid that the worst had happened but to their pleasant surprise; it was exactly the opposite. The letter informed them that their father had finally found an investor and with the money he had recently gotten; he had acquired back their house and had bought the medicines that their mother needed. The medicines had worked their wonder and their mother had been brought back home, albeit still bed ridden. There was something else that the letter said; it told the girls to pack up their things and return immediately to London to be with their mother while their father had to work.

  Within minutes, the mood of everyone in the cottage had changed from gloomy and sullen to more cheerful than they had ever seemed to be. Eleanor’s three sisters had immediately packed up their stuff and requested that their uncle summon a carriage from the town square. Eleanor, however, had again chosen to stay in North Yorkshire. She did feel an extremely powerful desire to go to London and look after her mother but she felt that she needed time to herself after all that happened. Also, London had Duke Beaufort, someone she aimed to avoid as long as she lived.

  After her three sisters departed for London with Anne clutching a letter to her parents from her, Eleanor ran off into the orchard to the tree with the nest. As she climbed the tree, she found that only one bird remained in the nest. The rest had learned to fly and flew in the distant sky. The last one, however, seemed to be bound to the nest. Eleanor felt extremely sorry for the small animal and prayed every day that he would soon join his family.

  “Must be hard,” she whispered to the bird, “This nest seems to be a lot like me. Most of my issues have been resolved but this one that remains threatens to leave me inconsolable.”

  Thinking of Beaufort, she slipped down the tree to sit on the thick undergrowth of the orchard, her back up against the tree. There, she sat weaving grass ropes and read her favorite lines from Romeo and Juliet back to herself. She read:

  Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs;

  Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;

  Being vexed a sea nourish'd with loving tears:

  Suddenly she heard a voice from behind her as someone very familiar completed the description of love by Romeo himself.

  What is it else? a madness most discreet,

  A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.

  She turned around to see Beaufort standing in the small clearing, dressed as elegantly as he always had been. He was smiling at her, beaming rather, as if he was really happy to see her. She stood up and curtseyed slightly but he visibly rolled his eyes and rushed forward, embracing her by pulling her into his arms.

  “Duke Beaufort,” she whispered in his ear, even as she felt more relief than she had in ages, “What’re you doing back here, after everything? After you just left without a trace?”

  “Choosing happiness over responsibility,” he replied, pulling away to look into her eyes, “Oh how I missed you, Eleanor.”

  “And yet you left the minute you found out that I wasn’t the business deal you thought I would be?” she asked, turning away from him.

  “What?” he asked, surprised, “That was never my intention. I rushed back to London because I figured out from your father’s letter that your family was in trouble financially and needed help.”

  “How did you know that?” she asked, raising her eyebrow at him, “There was no mention of that in the letter.”

  “I had seen trouble in the mills earlier the same day,” he explained, “And when I heard that your mother was in the hospital, I knew something was wrong. Patients from Mayfair don’t go to city hospitals, my dear, the local doctors come to them.”

  “So what did you do in London for so long?” she asked, “Surely after helping my father, you could have sent me a letter?”

  “I didn’t just go to London,” he replied, “I went to Beaufort and organized a massive investment into your father’s mills from our lands and the Earl’s lands from our neighboring county.”

  “You invested into my father’s business?” asked Eleanor, walking up to him such that they were so close that another step and their noses would be touching, “Why?”

  “Because I’m in love with you,” he stated simply with a shrug, “And I want you to be my wife.”

  “Beaufort…” she began before he pulled her to himself and kissed her deeply. Feeling butterflies in her stomach, she eagerly kissed back as a new type of peace and happiness engulfed her.

  “Will you marry me, Eleanor Bryant?” he asked her after pulling away and holding her at an arm’s length so he was able to look into her eyes.

  “Yes,” she replied just as she saw the last bird in the nest take flight from the tree over her beloved’s shoulder.

  *** The End ***

  Charmed

  by the

  Noble Duke

  Regency Romance

  Grace Fletcher

  Chapter 1

  Prologue

  Spring 1805

  “J ethro!”

  Daniel Lundie-Brown looked around and groaned. A little red-haired girl dressed in a thick coat over her dress with a matching hat was standing on the bank of the pond. Another little girl, this one much younger with black curls coming out underneath her hat stood beside her.

  Great. He had hoped that he and Jethro could have some fun skating on the pond which was frozen over for the first time that winter. Some play with his best friend without his pesky sisters following them around.

  Daniel thought they had managed to get away. Evidently not. Clementine and Maisie Cowell were very good at finding them, no matter how hard they tried to get away. Jethro was just as frustrated with it as his best friend rolled his eyes and shouted back to his sister.

  “What do you want, Clementine?”

  “Can we come and join you?”

  Daniel gritted his teeth.

  “No, you can’t.” He muttered.

  Jethro frowned at him and turned to his sister.

  “No. You haven’t got skates and Mama says you must never go onto ice without skates.”

  Ever at their distance, Daniel could see Clem
entine’s pout and Maisie’s bottom lip trembling.

  “Please, Jethro!” Maisie whined.

  Jethro huffed and looked at Daniel, who raised his hands and skated backwards.

  “Don’t look at me. They’re your sisters.”

  It was at times like this Daniel was glad he was an only child. Jethro had to often keep an eye on Clementine and Maisie and he didn’t like it. At fourteen, Jethro wanted to do his own thing. Clementine and Maisie were only eight and six; they were far too young for some of the things Daniel and Jethro wanted to do.

  Two fourteen-year-old boys in charge of two little girls was never going to be a good idea.

  Jethro was warring with himself. If he said yes, then their ice skating would be ruined and they would have to watch over the girls as they attempted to slide about without any skates. If he said no, the two sisters, Maisie especially, would go running back to their mother and father and complain that Jethro and Daniel weren’t playing fair.

  Either way, they were going to get into trouble.

  Finally, Jethro sighed and beckoned them over.

  “Come on, then. Just watch your footing. We’re not helping you up.”

  Daniel growled as Clementine helped Maisie onto the ice and then followed her.

  “What did you say that for?”

  “They’re little girls, Danny.” Jethro shrugged. “They’ll start complaining about the cold in a couple of minutes and want to go back inside. They always do.”

  Daniel hoped so. He wasn’t in the mood to have his afternoon ruined.

  Clementine and Maisie made their way slowly around the edge of the pond, keeping closer to the bank. Maisie kept falling over, giggling and standing up again. Clementine, on the other hand, managed to keep herself upright. Daniel had to admit even without skates the girl had good balance.

  Then he noticed where they were going. From skating on the pond before, he knew the ice was always thinner in that part and, despite being close to the bank, it was quite deep. And Clementine was wearing a heavy coat.

  He started towards her. While he didn’t care much for her presence, he wasn’t cruel enough to let her drown.

  “Clementine, be careful over there. That ice is very…”

  Clementine turned to him just as he heard some load creaking. Daniel saw the horror pass over Clementine’s face moments before the ice broke and she was crashing through into the water.

  “Clementine!”

  Daniel could hear Jethro shouting and Maisie screaming. He picked up speed and fell to his knees by the hole in the ice. The ice under his knees threatened to give way but Daniel wasn’t paying any heed to it. He reached in, his hands managing to grab onto the thick coat Clementine had been wearing. It was heavy with the water and Daniel was struggling to pull it up towards him.

  But he managed and Jethro joined him, pulling Clementine to the surface. Daniel took one look at Clementine’s face and knew they were in trouble. Her face was blue, her lips were blue and her eyes were closed. Her body had gone into shock from the ice-cold water.

  Gathering the girl into his arms, Daniel half-stumbled, half-skated to the bank. He fell onto the bank and held the unconscious girl in his arms, trying to get her warm. Her clothes were soaking through his own but Daniel didn’t notice the cold. Clementine was still not waking up.

  Jethro managed to get off the ice and tugged off his skates. Running to wear they had left their belongings, he came back with their coats. Tossing them to Daniel, he managed to grab Maisie as she sat on the ice bawling her eyes out and screaming, dragging her onto the bank.

  Daniel lay Clementine on the ground and put the blankets over her.

  “Get Papa and Sanders now!” He shouted over his shoulder. “And take Maisie with you!”

  He barely heard Jethro and Maisie taking off over the ringing in his ears. He began to rub Clementine down, trying to get some heat into her body. Daniel had no idea if she had swallowed any water but he focused on getting her warm.

  “Come on, Clementine. Wake up. Please, wake up!”

  Clementine then started shivering and heaving. Daniel saw it coming and turned her onto her side in time for her to cough water onto the grass. Seeing that was a relief; she was alive.

  For now. She wasn’t out of the woods yet.

  Daniel tucked the coats tighter around her body and laid down behind her, wrapping his arms tightly around her body. His father had shown him how to keep someone warm in the winter and Daniel was now glad of it. He could feel Clementine shivering violently but he gritted his teeth and held her tighter.

  “Keep awake, please, Clementine.” He whispered. “Don’t close your eyes. Listen to my voice.”

  He hoped his father and Sanders turned up soon. Or both of them were going to freeze to death.

  Chapter 2

  The New Duke

  of Winchester

  March, 1815

  D aniel Lundie-Brown, the newly appointed Duke of Winchester, turned away from the fire and glared in astonishment at the statuesque woman with porcelain skin and auburn hair sitting on the couch.

  “Are you out of your mind, Mother? I only took over the title this morning and Papa died last night! Can’t you just wait until I’ve come out of mourning or, at least, until I’m settled?”

  Holly Lundie-Brown, Dowager Countess of Winchester, gave him a frown and shook her head. She sat with her hands folded in her lap dressed in black, looking like the perfect widow in mourning. But Daniel couldn’t believe what she had been talking about for the past two hours.

  His father wasn’t even cold in the grave and she was discussing things that should not be anywhere close to the topics they should talk about in mourning.

  “Absolutely not, Chester.” His mother said primly.

  Chester grunted and shook his head.

  “It’s going to be very strange you calling me that instead of Daniel.”

  “You’re the duke now. Winchester is now your name.”

  Chester wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that. As a child, he had been known as Danny. As a grown man in the army, he had been known as Lundie-Brown. But to be called Winchester, or Chester, where he was named after a city instead of his personal name, felt strange. Especially when he had heard his father being called that for years.

  His stomach was still up in knots over his father’s death. Chester was holding himself together until his mother finally left before he let out some tears. Grown men didn’t cry, and the countess was firm on that.

  “And you’re not married, either.” The countess pointed out. “You need a wife and an heir. You can’t get an heir unless you’re married.”

  “How do you know I haven’t got an illegitimate child in France?”

  Chester felt some slight satisfaction at seeing his mother’s face going white, her mouth falling open.

  “You haven’t!”

  “Of course I haven’t.” Chester sat in an armchair, not bothering to sit properly by lounging his leg over the arm. He was not in the mood for etiquette tonight. “But even if there was, I wouldn’t discount them just because I’m not married to the mother.”

  The countess narrowed her eyes, realizing her son had goaded her into a reaction. She didn’t like it when Chester made sarcastic comments or teased her. She was the coldest woman he knew; he swore she didn’t have a sense of humour.

  Chester was lucky that his father had been the warm, loving parent or he might have turned out completely different.

  The countess narrowed her eyes.

  “You’d bring us all into disrepute.”

  “Just me, not you.” Chester returned her narrowed eyes expression. “If you don’t want to be involved in a scandal, you can always go to Wells.”

  Countess Winchester paled. Chester knew his mother hated Wells, the holiday home from his father’s mother’s side. Technically, she should be there now as her son had inherited the title. But she was refusing to leave.

  There was no secret between them that Cheste
r didn’t care for his mother. They had not got along at all as children and Chester had seen his nannies and his governess as more motherly towards him than his own mother. The countess knew this, and it infuriated her that her son didn’t hold her to the same high regard he held his governess at, thinking she was entitled to it because she was his mother.

  Chester had other ideas about it.

  Countess Winchester huffed and scowled, her mouth twisting.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have fought against the French. They took away all your manners.”

  “The army taught me manners, I’ll have you know. I just don’t appreciate being forced into a ball less than a day after my father’s death.” Chester glared at her. “People would think you didn’t care about your husband.”

  He knew the truth. Countess Winchester hadn’t cared for her husband for some time and even Chester had noticed it. It was a wonder she wasn’t out of her mourning garb already. That was disrespectful in its own right. To host a ball so soon after a death…that was a society death.

  “Of course I care.” The countess huffed. “But finding a wife for you is more important right now. If you die with no issue, your cousin gets the title, and he doesn’t deserve it.”

  That made Chester bristle.

  “Cousin Eric is a fine man and I’m happy with him as my heir.”

  “But you need an heir now!”

  Chester sighed.

  “Women are not dogs, Mother. It takes nine months before a baby arrives. You do know that, don’t you?”

  The countess’ expression said she didn’t appreciate being spoken to in that way.

  “Of course I know.” She sniffed. “You know what I mean.”

  They were going to go around in circles with this and Chester wasn’t in the mood to discuss anything, least of all a ball. But if it made her happy…

  He sighed heavily.

  “All right, go ahead. You can throw a ball. But only once we’ve finished our mourning. We both have to mourn your husband and my father for a decent amount of time before you throw it. It’s not fair, otherwise, and people will find it disrespectful.”