Passion Regency Style

by Wendy Vella

  Alistair frowned as he listened to Edward, alarmed that the man was putting into words the very thoughts he’d been experiencing the past few days. “Is that what happened with your Anna?” he wondered. “How ... how long ago?” he asked, thinking Edward and Anna must have met and married rather recently. They had only just returned from their wedding trip a few months ago.

  Edward nodded. “When we were children. I’ve loved her my whole life,” he said proudly.

  Rolling his eyes, Alistair leaned forward and thought about punching the fencer. “Damn you. You’re no help in this, you must know.”

  Chuckling, Edward leaned forward as well. “I have other news,” he said quietly. “The ladies were at the Clarendon Hotel for luncheon today. They met the new Countess of Trenton.”

  Alistair stared at Edward for several seconds before the news sank in. “Gabe got married,” he stated, finally understanding Edward’s simple statement. “To whom?” he asked, straightening in his chair. “I just spoke with him a couple of months ago. He had no prospects.”

  Edward grinned, rather enjoying his friend’s surprise. “Her name is Sarah. Anna claims she is a blonde beauty from the country who is gracious, and apparently rather industrious.”

  “Oh? How so?”

  “Gabe found her running a coaching inn up in Staffordshire. He’s apparently known her for some time and decided she would make a suitable countess.”

  Alistair allowed a smile. So Gabriel Wellingham had managed to find a wife outside of the ton. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he whispered, surprised at just how quickly the earl had managed to find a wife.

  If he can do it, then so can I, he thought.

  Lady Julia couldn’t remain too angry with him if he proposed the night of her come-out. How many chits could claim to get marriage proposals at their first ball?

  “Where did you propose to Anna?” Alistair asked suddenly, thinking Edward would have chosen a particularly romantic place to pop the question.

  “Oh, everywhere,” Edward answered with a wave of his hand. When he saw his friend’s expression of confusion, he added, “Because I’ve known since childhood I was going to marry her, I asked her several times in several places. But you’ll probably have the best chance of success if you propose in a dark garden during a ball. Preferably a ball where her father can announce the engagement without impinging on anyone else’s good news.” This last was said with a cocked eyebrow, implying Alistair should carefully consider at which ball the proposal take place.

  Alistair’s eyes widened.

  The Mayfield ball was obviously the only ball at which he could ask for Julia’s hand. There would be no other announcements planned for the evening. But ...

  “I can’t ask her tonight,” Alistair stated suddenly.

  Edward’s eyes widened. “Ask who?”

  “Lady Julia.”

  “Well, I must say, this is quite sudden. She must have really cast a powerful spell over you,” he teased, careful not to have too much fun at Alistair’s expense. “And, pray tell, why can’t you ask her?”

  Alistair shook his head. “If you recall, my father cut me off. I have no income, besides what I make as a groom, and what little I have in savings will have to go to the widow,” he explained, a sadness settling over him. “Lady Julia isn’t going to agree to marry a man who can’t keep her in the manner to which she’s become accustomed.”

  Sighing, Edward leaned back in the settee. “Perhaps you should let her decide that for herself,” he suggested as he pulled a pocket watch from his topcoat pocket. “And on that note, I must take my leave. I promised Anna we would enjoy a late tea before coming to this ball.”

  Alistair nodded, a bit relieved that there would be gentlemen he knew at the ball. If things got a bit tense, he could always seek them out and join their circle. “Thank you for bringing the evening clothes. And for paying for them,” he said as he stood.

  Edward joined him near the door. “Don’t thank me yet, Comber,” he warned with a cocked eyebrow. “You might be cursing all of us before the night is done.”

  Or cursing myself, Alistair considered before he gave the earl’s son a nod.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Come-outs

  “You will be the belle of the ball,” Samantha claimed as she watched her new lady’s maid, Mary, finish pinning a headband onto Lily’s curls. The headband, adorned with a cameo and a short ostrich feather, was the latest in fashion for those sporting the shorter hairstyles.

  Lily shrugged, too humble to believe a gentleman would find her any prettier than any of the other chits who would be attending the Mayfield ball. Her gown, a white satin underdress with a sarcenet overdress, was simple and elegant.

  Samantha had opted for a new gown, favoring ruched chiffon around the neckline of a white satin gown. Her hair, adorned with white pearls amongst the pinned curls surrounding an elegant bun, had taken her new maid nearly a hour to complete. The style made her appear a bit older than she was, but she favored the look. She was no longer interested in trying to pass as one of the newest gels in the Marriage Mart, but thought instead to attract an older gentleman who might require a devoted wife and an heir.

  “Lady Chamberlain was kind to allow my mum to help dress me,” Lily said, pinching her cheeks until they pinked up. She had watched Samantha do the same over the years and now understood why.

  “My aunt is so excited, she’s about to burst,” Samantha claimed as she grinned at her reflection in the cheval mirror. “You would think she was the one having her come-out.”

  Lily smiled as she pulled on her dance slippers. “At least I won’t be the only one being introduced to the ton tonight,” she said. At Samantha’s raised eyebrow, she added, “I received a letter from Lord Trenton. He married a few days ago, and will be bringing his wife tonight.”

  Samantha’s eyes widened in surprise. “Married? Gabriel Wellingham?” she countered. She hadn’t heard any gossip suggesting the man was even engaged!

  “I know. It is a bit of shock. But he claims to be in love, and he has known his Sarah for longer than a year,” Lily explained as she took a shawl from Mary.

  “Sarah ... who?” Samantha wondered.

  “Cumberbatch,” Lily replied with a shrug. “No one in London knows of her.”

  “A baron’s daughter,” Samantha guessed.

  Lily shook her head. “I’ve no idea.” She was about to mention where Gabriel had met his bride when there was knock at the door. Lady Chamberlain popped her head around the door. “We really must be leaving, girls,” she said as she gave them both an admiring gaze. “I don’t want to miss a minute.”

  Lily and Samantha grinned as they joined Lady Chamberlain in the hall. As they made their way down the central staircase to the vestibule, Lord Chamberlain began clapping his hands together. “Brava,” he shouted. “Not only are you all beautiful, you’re actually ready on time,” he teased. “Let’s be off.” Before the girls could reply, the man was out the front doors and down the steps to the coach-and-four.

  “Nervous?” Temperance Mayfield wondered as she regarded her daughter from where she stood in the hallway.

  Having just come from her bedchamber, Julia turned and regarded her mother. The woman was dressed in a coral gown, the color a perfect complement for her complexion and hair.

  And she was looking more calm than she deserved to given she was the hostess of the ball.

  Julia felt a bit washed out in her own white gown. She’d been so caught up in preparing the groom for the ball, she had neglected to arrange for a new gown to be made for the night. Instead, she wore one she borrowed from Samantha, its layers of satin and chiffon billowing about her legs with each step she took. “A bit,” she admitted, taking a breath. “Is it already time to form the receiving line?” she wondered.

  Her mother cocked an eyebrow. “If there was to be one, then yes, but your father and I decided we’d rather enjoy the entire ball. Lord Chamberlain’s butler is going to do the
announcing from the top of the stairs,” Lady Mayfield explained, joining her daughter for their descent to the main floor. The faint sounds of an orchestra tuning their instruments could be heard despite the noise of early arrivals from the vestibule. In only a moment, Lady Mayfield became the gracious hostess, welcoming her guests and engaging in chitchat with several ladies as footmen saw to their wraps.

  Too nervous to speak to anyone, Julia turned to head toward the ballroom and stopped suddenly. Mr. Comber stood in the center of the hall, looking every bit the gentleman she had hoped he would. His black hair was cut short in a Brutus style, accentuating his aristocratic features. His evening clothes, black satin breeches with a black stain topcoat, red waistcoat and black cravat, were tailored to fit him perfectly, and his legs made it apparent he had no need to pad his stockings. Buckled black dance shoes completed his look.

  “Mr. Comber,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper.

  “Lady Julia,” he answered with a bow. He reached out for her gloved hand and lifted it to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. He hadn’t been prepared to see her dressed for a ball, her white gown a layered confection that seemed to float around her body, her hair an elegant chignon outlined with tiny braids and dotted with baby’s breath. “You look very lovely,” he managed to get out.

  Julia stared at the groom, almost forgetting to curtsy. “Thank you. And you ... you look as if you could be an ... an earl, or a marquess,” she managed to get out, not aware that the groom still held her hand.

  Alistair stilled himself. “About that,” he replied, remembering Edward’s Seward decree. She had just given him the perfect opportunity to explain his situation. “I have something I really must tell you ...”

  “There you are,” Lady Samantha called out from behind Julia.

  Dropping her hand as if it had burned him, Alistair straightened at the approach of Samantha and a blonde chit who looked as if she could be Cupid’s sister. “Ladies,” he said as he bowed and took their hands in turn, kissing the backs of their knuckles.

  Julia curtsied to her friend and turned to Lily. “Lady Samantha, Lady Lily, I’d like you to meet Mr. Comber,” she said, giving Samantha a wink as she did so.

  “So very good to meet you,” the two said in unison, and then giggled when they realized how they must have sounded.

  “Lady Lily is making her come-out at this ball,” Samantha explained proudly.

  “Ah, then might I reserve a dance?” Alistair wondered, thinking a girl fresh out of the school room wouldn’t be hard to impress with his dancing skills.

  Lily’s eyes widened. “I ... Why, of course,” she answered, hoping Samantha’s finger poke into her rib wasn’t evident to the handsome man. “The Scotch reel?” she added.

  Alistair nodded. “I will find you,” he said.

  A sudden pang of jealousy gripped Julia. “Might I have the Cotillion?” she wondered, realizing the groom would be booked solid for dancing if she didn’t get him reserved for one.

  “Of course,” he answered with a nod. “My lady?” he said to Samantha. “Might you consider a dance with me? An English Country dance?” he wondered, thinking he need only dance one more to keep his promise to Julia.

  “I look forward to it,” Samantha replied, giving Julia a quick look. “Until then, we’ll be at the refreshment table,” she said as she curtsied and led Lily off toward the ballroom.

  Julia watched them go and then turned her attention back to the groom. “Will you escort me?” she asked, lifting one arm toward his.

  “Of course, my lady,” Alistair answered as he turned and led them in the direction of the ballroom. The hallway, now crowded with guests, made it hard to converse. “As I was saying before your friend appeared, I really need to speak with you,” he said, trying to keep his voice low.

  “Perhaps after we get to the ballroom,” Julia answered, finding it hard to hear.

  Alistair nodded, leading her to the stairs where a bewigged man announced each attendee. “Mr. Alistair Comber, Lady Julia Harrington,” he said to the man, and then stood at the top of the stairs. This wasn’t the entrance he and Julia used when they were engaged in lessons, but he wished he had used it at least once to practice descending the stairs.

  As his name was called out, he gave a nod and glanced over at Julia. She gave him a smile. Nervous, she is, he thought as he made his way down. A few ball goers looked his way, but it was early, and most were engaged in conversation and ignored him. Suddenly, though, his mother appeared in front of him.

  “Alistair!” Lady Aimsley breathed, grasping onto one of his hands and shaking it as if he was some long-lost soul.

  “My lady,” he answered. “You look well,” he managed to get out, daring a glance back up at Julia. Her name had just been called, and she was making her way down the steps.

  “As do you,” his mother said with a smile. “I was so worried when your father told me what he’d done,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “I very nearly demanded a divorce.”

  “Mother!” he responded in surprise.

  “Then I received your note and was so relieved. Where have you been?”

  Alistair dared a glance back up at Julia. She still had a few steps to go before she would be on the ballroom floor. “Here,” he whispered. “I am a groom in Lord Mayfield’s stables. But you mustn’t say anything to anyone.” He turned to Julia. “Lady Aimsley, do you know Lady Julia?” he asked just as Julia turned to regard his mother. At just that moment, he remembered the conversation he’d had with Julia about names. Aimsley, he had suggested, thinking she wouldn’t be familiar with his family. And she hadn’t been. But now ...

  “Lady Aimsley, so very good to meet you,” Julia said as she gave his mother a curtsy.

  Alistair realized that if she remembered the name from their conversation, she didn’t show it in her expression.

  “And you, Lady Julia. I understand you’re making your come-out this evening,” his mother said lightly. “I rather imagine you’ll have several marriage offers before the night is over,” she said with an arched eyebrow.

  Blushing, Julia’s smile wavered. “Really? Why, thank you for saying so,” she murmured. Several marriage offers? She’d been so busy with preparing Mr. Comber for the evening, she hadn’t given a thought to it being her first night on the Marriage Mart!

  The Countess of Aimsley gave her son another glance. “I look forward to a dance with you this evening,” she said before flitting off toward another lady nearby.

  Julia leaned toward Alistair. “Who is she?” she asked in a whisper.

  Alistair stared at Julia for several seconds. Tell her the truth right now! “She is my ...”

  “Alistair!”

  The groom straightened, not recognizing the voice right away. “So glad to see you among the living,” Baron Sommers said as he passed by. “That set of matched greys you put me onto at Tattersall’s three years ago are my best team,” the viscount added before joining a group of men near the table of lobster patties.

  Taking a breath of relief, Alistair shrugged when he noticed Julia watching him. “I used to spend a good deal of time at Tattersall’s,” he said in a whisper.

  Julia nodded her understanding. Of course, the groom would have spent time at the best horse market in London. “You were saying?” she whispered back.

  Before Alistair could respond, one of Julia’s friends approached, asking for an introduction to the handsome man at her side.

  And so the evening went on, with Alistair dancing when necessary, engaging in conversation with those who recognized him for who he really was, and generally avoiding Lady Julia. He could only hope she didn’t discover his true identity until he had a chance to get her alone.

  The Cotillion, he remembered. He would tell her during the dance.

  Chapter Forty

  Julia Learns the Truth

  Julia gave a curtsy to Lord Chamberlain as he gave her a bow, the Scotch reel having just ended. “I understand you’ve
been engaged in the same manner of preparation as my niece has been these past couple of weeks,” Matthew Fitzsimmons said as he stepped a bit closer.

  “Oh?” Julia replied, just then realizing he was referring to the dare Samantha had made in regard to the groom. “Lady Samantha has been very successful in her work with Lady Lily,” she commented. “I do hope she thinks I have done as well with my charge,” she added.

  Lord Chamberlain gave her a grin. “She cannot find fault with how Alistair Comber has conducted himself this evening,” he said with a shake of his head. “Congratulations on your success,” he said, just as he seemed to recognize someone in the crowd. “Do have a good evening.”

  The older gentleman moved off toward the refreshment table as Julia glanced around. To her left was a beautiful woman standing with her second cousin. Gabriel Wellingham, Earl of Trenton, bowed to Julia and lifted the lady’s hand in her direction. “Lady Julia, I wish to introduce you to my wife, Sarah,” he said as he indicated the blonde who had moved to his side.

  Julia tried hard to hide her surprise, but she found she could not. “You’ve married, Gabriel? But ... but when?” she countered, forcing her look of surprise to turn to one of happiness.

  The woman to her left grinned. “Do not be concerned for my sake,” Sarah said as she took Julia’s hand to shake it. “I am just as surprised. We said our vows in Wolverhampton just a few days ago.”

  Julia smiled as she realized Gabriel’s wife was probably not a daughter of the aristocracy. She’s too nice, she thought as she regarded her new relation. The sapphire bracelet that adorned one gloved wrist and the beautiful gold sarcenet gown she wore made her look the part of a countess, though. “Congratulations, my lady. Gabriel is my second cousin,” she explained, realizing she had called the earl by his given name twice.