Passion Regency Style

by Wendy Vella

  “Oh, I will ask Catherine to engage Lady Babbage. Escaping her will not be a problem.”

  “Catherine seems to dislike me.”

  “You mistook her for a maid, My Lord. No wonder she is offended.”

  “Oh, no, not again! I truly think only maids should be allowed to wear grey. How is a man to tell the difference between a lady and a maid if they both wear the same colour?”

  “She wore a dove grey silk dress, and even if she wore a sack, it would be hard to confuse her with a maid. Her face is aristocratic and her hands soft as butter.”

  “Yes, I can’t imagine how I made such a gaffe. She is beautiful. Is she engaged?”

  Emma wanted to laugh. Here was another complication they did not need.

  “She is unclaimed, My Lord. Though, please remember, you are not. You are supposed to be engaged to me.”

  “I am hardly likely to forget,” he replied, staring at the corner where Catherine sat playing the Piano. After a few moments of silence, he sighed and said, “She plays well.”

  Emma sighed as well and allowed herself to be led in the direction of the pianoforte.

  He danced with all the ladies present, and knowing how uncomfortable he was, she was pleased that he had managed to charm all members of her sex present. The fact that he was extremely handsome made things somewhat easier for him. He barely spoke a word, yet the women made up for it. He was considered a good listener, and what woman does not love a listening man.

  In contrast, his dance with Catherine was conducted in silence. They could not hold a conversation without arguing, so they both thought it prudent to keep their mouth shut in each other’s company.

  ***

  “Are you sure you want to marry him?”

  “Cat, we have been over this for two hours. Yes, I want to marry the Earl . . . now can I have my breakfast?”

  “But he is so different from what you said. He dislikes company, I could see it in his face the entire night. He is polite, but his conversations seem stiff and forced.”

  “You have just met him. I am sorry he mistook you for a maid, but he is a very nice man. Give him time, he will grow on you. You cannot judge a man after one meal.”

  “I don’t know why I am reacting so strongly. This is not like me. I always give people the benefit of the doubt. But my gut tells me something is not right. Why, his behaviour towards you was almost cold.”

  “He was embarrassed. He wanted to spend time with me alone, but it was difficult with so many present eyeing our every move. We both felt unnatural, and I am sure things will be better today.”

  “I suppose you are right,” said Catherine doubtfully.

  “We are to take a walk in the afternoon. Will you join us?” Emma asked.

  “Yes, and keep the chaperone away,” she added slyly.

  “Thank you. Now, I am going to eat, and I don’t want to hear another word from you until I am done.”

  Catherine left her cousin to her breakfast and went to the library. It was a large room filled with books and the smell of leather and tobacco.

  It reminded her of her father and how as a child she used to sit and listen to him read in his deep baritone voice. It comforted her, and she still missed those winter days by the fireside. Now she found the same solace in books, and her love for the room grew as the years sped by.

  She walked towards the shelf searching its titles, when a cough alerted her to another presence.

  Lord Raikes’ head peered at her from the side of a cherry coloured high backed chair. The sun streamed in through the window striking the back of his head making his hair gleam like shards of black ice. A dark shadow had appeared on his jawline making him look far handsomer than he had on his arrival.

  She greeted him, her lips pinched and her eyes wary.

  Instead of replying he walked up to her and took her hand, “I am deeply sorry if I offended you in any way, Lady Arden.”

  Flustered, she stared into his dark blue eyes. She had not expected him to approach so boldly.

  “Forgive me, My Lord, I behaved badly as well last night. My pride was hurt, and I lashed out at you.”

  He smiled; his eyes crinkled in amusement as he answered, “Shall we part as friends and forget the entire episode?”

  “Yes, that would please me, My Lord.”

  He briefly pressed her hand before continuing, “I often find comfort in libraries. They all hold the scent of books and leather, and apart from the differences in furnishing they remain the cosiest of rooms in any household.”

  “I agree,” she replied, trying to pull her hand free. He refused to relinquish his firm hold.

  “You came in search of a book,” he continued, as if unaware of the gentle tugging. “Allow me to direct you towards some titles suited for a lady’s perusal. You can discuss my choice in the afternoon when we take our walk.”

  She snatched her hand back, her earlier softening mood rapidly turning to furious anger. His tone was so authoritative that it irked her.

  “I can choose my own books, thank you. I do not need advice, and I am allowed to read what I please. My father has never resorted to dictate my tastes or steer me towards literature that is considered suitable for ladies. He believes in broadening my education and allowing me to judge what is appropriate for me. As for discussing anything in the afternoon, I am afraid you forget that you will be occupied with Emma, who is your fiancée and whom you have not seen for several weeks. You would hardly want to waste your time discoursing with me.”

  His dark hooded eyes searched her face, his expression speculative. He didn’t seem offended by her sudden outburst . . . but looks could be deceptive.

  She dropped her lashes, unable to hold his gaze for long.

  With half a smile, he turned away to glance at the books lining the shelves. His eyebrow rose when he spotted a partially concealed copy of a book a heartbeat away from where Catherine stood.

  He frowned, “Do you mean to tell me that your father allows you to take any book from this library. Are none of the titles forbidden to you?”

  “Yes, he has never sought to dictate my reading habits,” she lied boldly. She was not allowed to venture into certain sections of the library, but she was loath to admit it to the blasted, arrogant man.

  He strode over to the shelf and pulled out the title he had been eyeing. He turned the book towards her and softly asked, “And what, pray, is your opinion on this particular piece of poetry?”

  Catherine stared in mortification at a partially nude woman gracing the covers of ‘Ovid’. Her cheeks reddened, and she dared not lift her eyes up to the laughing man in front of her.

  She could neither deny nor brazenly agree that she had read it. Instead, she took the coward’s way out and fled.

  His laughter followed her as she raced out of the room.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It took all Catherine’s nerve to appear before the party that afternoon. She had to splash her face with cold water multiple times to cool her heated cheeks. Unlike her cousin, she had always been demure and shy. Her strange behaviour and outspokenness with the Earl alarmed her.

  While Emma would have laughed off the incident, she wanted to crawl into bed and hide. It was her pride that forced her to face the man. She was the Duke’s daughter, after all, and no mocking smile would have her feigning illness over such a trifling incident.

  Accordingly, she found herself walking towards the garden in her pale blue walking dress. A cream wrap around her shoulders reminded her that summer was truly over.

  Lord Raikes glanced at the fetching vision Catherine made. Emma held on to his arm as they strolled, but his eyes kept returning to her cousin.

  Catherine resolutely kept her eyes downcast and had not even looked at him once.

  Her soft replies to his greeting irritated him. He wanted to take hold of her chin and force her to meet his eyes.

  “Look, the leaves are turning gold, My Lord,” Prudence said, breaking his train of thought.r />
  Prudence was another reason why he was annoyed. She had blatantly thrown herself at him, rudely ignoring the other girls. She clung to his other arm while he tried hard to forget she was there.

  “Yes, they are turning gold, but that is to be expected, for autumn is setting in,” he replied blandly.

  “Would you like to go for a ride, My Lord? The stable is well provided with some excellent mounts to choose from. We should take advantage of the last few days of warmth,” Prudence asked.

  “I doubt Lady Babbage would want to sit upon a horse in this lifetime,” said Emma, glancing back at the older woman strolling behind them with Catherine. “Besides, the day is not warm. The rain last night seems to have washed away all traces of summer.”

  “Why can’t we go on our own? The Duke needs to venture out to London and realise the changes that have occurred in society. Why we need to be watched so strictly is beyond me. I, for one, am willing to take the chance and face the Duke’s wrath, if you are,” Prudence replied, fluttering her lashes up at him.

  “I am afraid I will have to decline your tempting offer, as I would like to spend some time with my fiancé. I have not seen her for almost a fortnight,” he said politely.

  The broad hint to leave them alone was not lost on Prudence, and she shot a scathing look in Emma’s direction. But even she could think of no good reason to hang on to his arm any longer, so she dropped her hand and turned to engage Catherine in conversation.

  “How are we to escape them? Catherine can handle Lady Babbage, but Prudence has her eyes set on you. She will not let us disappear so easily.” Emma whispered.

  “I think we may not be able to meet Richard . . . Wait . . . isn’t that him mucking about in that flower bed? Good Lord, I had never imagined I would ever see him tending so lovingly to daisies,” he replied laughing.

  She scowled in response and strode towards the Earl, pulling Lord Raikes along.

  “Good evening, miss. Nice day,” the Earl said, setting aside his spade.

  “We cannot get rid of them,” Emma hurriedly spoke. “Can you see me tonight in my room?”

  At Lord Raikes’ horrified gasp, the Earl grinned. “Not what you imagine, William. I have been perfectly honourable, contrary to my nature. Close your mouth man, and stop behaving like an outraged virgin.”

  Prudence’s high pitched voice interrupted their hushed conversation,

  “You have found your gardener. I must tell you, My Lord, Emma has developed a grand passion for gardening. Why, she is never far from the head gardener at any time.”

  “I am happy to find my fiancée taking an interest in plants. I am partial to them myself. If it were not for herbs, I would not be alive today. Why, when I was in India I came down with yellow fever and — ” began Lord Raikes

  “I am a little cold, My Lord,” Emma cut in. She was pleased that Lord Raikes had tried to defend her interest, but her mood had rapidly plunged once she realised that meeting Richard would be even more difficult now with the presence of Lord Raikes.

  Prudence would not allow them breathing room in the coming days. She also had no interest in hearing him talk of pestilence, diseases, or exotic animals.

  Lord Raikes immediately took her meaning and seeing the look of frustration on her face, he gently steered her towards the house.

  He said, “I think it will be easier for our gardener to meet you at night, for if he is found strolling the hallways, he can always say I requested his presence. I can invent a terrible fever that I caught in some exotic country and only a certain type of herb can relieve the symptoms. Since he is the head gardener, who better to call upon for assistance? I can even make the ailment embarrassing, so no one dares to question too closely.”

  Emma smiled at him in genuine delight for the first time. He was worthy of being a friend to Richard. Why, Lord William Raikes had the potential to be as evil as the Earl himself.

  Emma could finally see herself liking the man.

  ***

  The real Earl watched Emma’s face light up at something his friend had whispered into her ear. Watching her laughing, he wondered uneasily if he had made a mistake by bringing his handsome friend into the equation. William was not only rich, but he was also famous.

  Irritably, he yanked a perfect daisy from its roots and flung it away. He would have to warn the man to keep his hands off her and to stop making her laugh or to whisper anything in her ear . . . Why, he would tell him not to speak a word to Emma ever again.

  He stood up, and disregarding his character as an old man, briskly walked towards a pond he knew off. It was hidden from the view of the main house and edged with weeping willows. The whole effect was sad yet beautiful.

  He chose a particularly morose looking tree, whose branches almost touched the water shimmering below. He climbed high enough so he wouldn’t be spotted and pulled out his tobacco.

  He wanted to sit in peace and not be discovered while he chose the best and most horrendous words to describe his best friend.

  His creative mental process was disrupted when the sound of voices floated up towards him. He quickly moved his position to further conceal himself from prying eyes.

  “I need more time,” someone whined.

  “I have given you almost a year. If you think you can attract the Earl with your pathetic attempts, then you are mistaken. You are already wearing gowns one year out of date. Don’t think I do not know that half your clothes are altered to mimic the latest styles. I could never forget that hideous orange colour, no matter what you fashion it into.”

  “That is not true! I have plenty of new clothes. I went to Paris and had an entire wardrobe made.”

  “My dear child, you went to Paris a year and a half ago. Some relative took pity on you and provided you with a few measly dresses. Since England is so behind the times, naturally those dresses seem the height of fashion right now. But what will you do next year? You have been out for a while now, and not even in Paris could you catch a man. You are getting desperate, and we both know why.”

  “I am sure papa can provide me with another season, and when I do marry, I promise to pay you handsomely.”

  “Your father has no more money. He is swimming in debt, and you know it. He will not be able to provide for another season. I doubt you will ever marry well, but for the moment your secret is safe.”

  “Thank you . . . ”

  The voice cut in harshly, “Don’t thank me until you hear me out. I saw a pretty brooch that you wore last night. It took my fancy. Rubies, if I am not mistaken. Bring it to me, and you may have another month.”

  “But that is not mine! My grandmother let me borrow it. I am to return it to her. I cannot give that to you.”

  “Well, then we have nothing more to say to each other.”

  “No wait, I have pearls . . . ”

  “I want the brooch.”

  “Fine, I . . . I will bring it to you tonight.”

  “Thank you, and next time I will not meet you like this. I prefer to keep my transactions discreet. Leave a note in my work basket when you have anything of value to give me, else do not bother seeking me out.”

  The Earl sat puffing his pipe as he went over the conversation. The voice had been unmistakable. It had been Prudence begging for more time from Lady Babbage. He had been right. That old woman was up to something.

  It was clear that she had some damning evidence against the girl. He was surprised to learn that the Barkers were in financial difficulty. They seemed well dressed, though Emma had mentioned Mrs Barker behaving just as desperate as her daughter.

  Was Lady Babbage blackmailing the mother and daughter, or was Mrs Barker simply willing to be the Duke’s mistress to restore their financial situation?

  The entire incident left a bad taste in his mouth. How could that woman be so heartless and demand payment from someone so young? He had never liked Prudence, from what little he had seen or heard of her, but all he felt at the moment was pity for the girl and disgust at
Lady Babbage’s behaviour. He debated telling Emma.

  Emma would be just as disgusted, but would she be able to hide her feelings from the vicious woman? It would be harder for her to pretend. Blackmailing a gardener for some odd job was different from demanding payment from a helpless young girl.

  Whatever indiscretion Prudence had committed, it did not seem fair that Lady Babbage held it over her head like a sword.

  He extinguished his pipe in distaste. He could not tell Emma, at least not yet. She would never be able to treat the Lady courteously, or keep up the pretence of being unaware of what was going on in the house.

  He would have to alert William and ask him to keep an eye on things.

  ***

  “Do I need to beg your forgiveness once again, Lady Arden?”

  Catherine missed her lips and instead wetted her chin with the tea.

  “Here,” Lord Raikes said, producing a snow-white handkerchief.

  She glanced at him questioningly.

  “The tea may dribble down onto your dress. I am partial to that colour on your skin and would not like the cloth stained,” he replied.

  Mortified, she grabbed the handkerchief and quickly wiped away the liquid.

  “You did not answer my first question. Do I need to apologise? I had not meant to tease you this morning. No, don’t try and convince me that it was nothing . . . you have not looked at me once since the incident, not during our stroll, or through the entire dinner.”

  Catherine glanced around looking for an escape.

  “Do I frighten you?”

  “No!” she snapped, her eyes flashing angrily as she finally met his gaze.

  “That’s better. I will try and never tease you again.”

  She nodded distractedly, trying to inch away from him.

  He had sat next to her as soon as Lady Babbage had retired for bed. No one else seemed inclined to end the night early, and she had been enjoying the festive feel the newcomer had brought with him.