Lady Charlotte, or Lottie Roberts, as her family and friends liked to call her, was twenty-five years old and breathtakingly beautiful. Her only defect, according to her mother, was her fierce and rather feisty character, which made her act out in certain situations.
The Roberts’ family was a happy one. They were nobles residing in Moreland House, near the village of Hawkesbury. The girls’ parents loved and respected each other very much. Their three daughters were raised in a loving environment and taught strong family values. That was why Charlotte couldn’t imagine herself being married to someone just because he was rich or powerful, a fact that her two younger sisters ultimately agreed with.
“We should return home,” Jane interrupted her thoughts. “Mother wanted me to cut some flowers for her.”
Charlotte agreed with her and was the first one to turn around. Thankfully, they had been walking in the woods situated behind their house, and it only took twenty minutes to walk back home. It was still early afternoon and the weather during that time of the year was already warm, making it pleasant to walk in the evenings.
Soon, they saw Moreland House in front of them and Charlotte felt her heart beating faster. She loved this little paradise they lived in and was afraid that life as she knew it was going to end soon. She was unsure what made her think that, but there was something in the air that warned her about the tragedy that was going to happen.
“Listen,” Emma said, just when Jane was about to open the back door. “Those are father and mother talking.”
“We shouldn’t listen to a private conversation.” Charlotte urged Jane to walk inside, but before they could close the door and walk deeper into the house, Charlotte and her sisters still managed to overhear their parents arguing.
“Timothy Roberts is the heir of the Moreland House and to the Roberts Estate.” Baron Roberts was saying in his deep voice. “There is nothing we can do about it, my dear.”
“But if you talk to him, maybe he will let us stay here,” Baroness Roberts argued, sounding anxious.
Charlotte almost tugged her sisters up the stairs to stop them from hearing anything else. Their parents had enough to deal with and didn’t need their daughters to start asking questions. So the tragedy that she had been expecting was indeed about to happen. Nothing but a real problem could make her parents fight like that.
“Lady Charlotte,” Sarah, their housemaid, opened the door of her room and spoke softly. “Baron Roberts wants to talk to you in his study.”
“Thank you, Sarah,” Charlotte quickly stood up and approached the door. “I will go right away.”
Charlotte entered her father’s study without knocking and for a long moment simply watched her father. Lord Samuel Roberts was a middle-aged man, but he looked younger than his age, his hair still dark and shiny. Charlotte was a female copy of her father and shared his dark hair, gray eyes, and quick intelligence, as well as his disdain for everything silly.
Her sisters looked more like their mother, with dark blond hair and big brown eyes. Even their characters had been shaped after the parent they looked like. Their father liked to joke about that fact, but couldn’t deny the obvious – he felt closest to his first born daughter.
“Papa,” she called softly. “You wanted to see me.”
“Come in, Lottie.” Baron Roberts stood up from behind his desk and went to sit together with his daughter on the sofa. “I need to talk to you about something imperative.”
“What is it, Papa?” Charlotte was so worried that she could barely talk. It wasn’t usual for her father to act like this.
“The doctor came this morning, and he gave me some appalling news,” the man said, his hands gently caressing his daughter’s. “My kidneys are failing, my dear.”
“Oh, God,” Charlotte whispered. “There must be some cure.”
“He is doing all he can, but the doctor also insisted that I need to start getting my affairs in order,” Baron Roberts smiled sadly, “And that is why I called you in here.”
“What can I do, Papa?” she asked, desperate to do something to help her father.
“You know that when I am gone, our home and our estate, as well the title, go to your cousin, Timothy Roberts,” the man said and continued without waiting for an answer. “It will make me euphoric if I see you married before that time comes.”
“Papa, please, don’t talk like that,” Charlotte fell on her knees in front of him. “I am sure that you will get better.”
“I also hope for that to happen, my dear, but in case I don’t get better, I think that it is only logical to consider the possibility of your marriage.”
“But, there is no one interested in me, Papa,” she cried in her desperation, hurting for both her father and her future.
“That might change, my dear daughter, and when it does, I want you to consider the opportunity carefully,” he insisted. “There are times in our lives when we need to put the needs of others before our own.”
“I promise that I will, Papa,” Charlotte lowered her head, tears running down her face. She understood what her father was saying – she needed to marry in order to be able to help her younger sisters and her mother when her father would no longer be among them.
3
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“I am afraid that I have bad news for you, Lord Geoffrays.”
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CHAPTER THREE
A MATTER OF MONTHS
“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”
Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
Graystone Manor
George Geoffrays, the son of the second Duke of Graystone, urged his horse to hurry up, leaving his friend and confidant, Marquess James Bunting behind. He was worried and not even talks about balls could dissipate his thoughts about his ill father. The elderly Duke had been feeling unwell for weeks, and George was afraid that his illness might be more serious than what they first thought.
“I know that you are a great rider, George, but could you take it easy for a moment? After all, we are not fighting the French at the Battle of Waterloo. We won that one if you remember.” James called from behind, trying to ride faster.
George smiled at his friend’s comment and couldn’t help remembering the horror of the war, the hundreds of dead, the hunger, the thirst, the fear. A year had passed since then, and his life had changed drastically, but the memory still held its place in his mind, and George suspected that he would never forget it.
Deciding suddenly to think about something more pleasant, George stopped his horse and waited for his friend to join him. “So, you are going to hold a ball at the Bunting Manor,” he stated when James reached him. “You need to consider who you are going to invite.”
“Oh, I am going to invite everyone, who lives around here,” his friend answered easily. “We were away for so long. I feel like I don’t know anyone anymore.”
“Don’t forget that we have all the time in the world to get to know each other again,” George commented. The two of them had been friends since childhood, but the time they had spent together fighting had made their friendship even stronger. “And with your handsome face, there is no way for you to remain unnoticed.”
“You think that my face is handsome?” James raised his eyebrows. “And here I am thinking that you never notice me.”
George laughed at his friend’s comment and James joined him too. The two men were the same age and had very similar interests. At twenty-seven, Lord George Geoffrays was the stern, moralistic owner of the richest estate in the area. Marquess James, on the other hand, was good-hearted, kind and also very wealthy. Both of them were handsome and powerfully built, their bodies used to hardship and long rides. They were also both superb with the sword.
“Even my mother thinks that you are the better looking of the two of us,” James pointed out when they calmed down.
>
“You discuss our looks with your mother?” George teased him, knowing very well that Marchioness Bunting expressed her opinions quite freely.
“You try to live with her and then come and ask me again,” James shook his head. “And speaking of my mother, I need to head back home. I promised to be home before it is time for supper.”
“Fine,” George agreed, thinking that he too needed to get back home. “Come tomorrow for lunch. I have to show you something.”
“In that case, see you in the morning, George,” James greeted his friend and headed towards his estate.
George rode home in a hurry. His father hadn’t been feeling good lately, and George always felt uneasy when he left him alone for too long. The road took a turn and the magnificent Graystone Manor, which had belonged to his family for centuries and bore the memories of generations of Geoffrays and especially of his mother, the late Lady Geoffrays, who had left this earth too early. The manor could be seen in the distance, rising solemnly toward the sky.
The front door opened when George was climbing off his horse. He saw Doctor Smith coming out of the house, accompanied by the butler. He left his horse with the stable boy and hurried towards the doctor.
“Lord Geoffrays,” the elderly man said as he saw him. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to come today, doctor,” said George. He shook the man’s hand. “Is my father feeling alright?”
“I came for a visit because I was nearby, Lord Geoffrays,” the doctor explained. He followed the younger man back inside the house and into one of the parlors. “I am afraid that I have bad news for you, Lord Geoffrays.”
“Please, Doctor, sit down,” George offered, preparing for the worst. “I appreciate you coming here to see how my father is doing.”
“It’s my job, Lord Geoffrays,” Doctor Smith said, taking his hat off and putting it beside him on the sofa. “After the last exams I have performed on your father, I am very sorry to say that he has only a few months left to live. I cannot determine if it is going to be two or ten months, but I don’t believe that your father is going to last very long.”
For a few long moments, George stared at the other man speechless. He had known that his father was sick for a while, but hearing that he might lose him forever was unexpected. Duke Michael Geoffrays had always been a vigorous and confident man. He raised his only son by himself after the death of his beloved wife. George loved his father more than anyone else in his life and respected his opinion on everything. Although strangers saw him as a severe and quiet person, when it came to his father, George was the perfect, loving son.
“Thank you, Doctor Smith, for taking such a good care of my father,” George finally spoke. “Please, continue to do everything in your power to make his final months as comfortable as possible. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to be with my father.”
The Doctor assured him that he understood and promised to be back in two days for his next visit. George left the butler to take care of him and hurried to his father’s room, which was situated on the ground floor since he had started having trouble climbing the stairs a few months back.
“Papa, are you asleep?” he asked from the door, afraid that he might be resting after the doctor’s visit.
“No, George, come in,” the Duke said, slowly sitting up in his bed. George noticed that he was dressed for bed and looking very pale. “I suppose the doctor told you all about my condition?” he asked with a cough.
“Yes. He might be wrong, Papa.” George tried to give both of them some hope. “You don’t have to worry now, just try to rest and feel better.”
His father shook his head with a sad smile on his face. “I don’t think that I have time for that, George,” he said. “There are things we need to do before it is too late for me.”
He wanted to disagree with his father, but George also knew that he was right. If he was going to be left all alone in the world, he was going to need what his father could give him more than ever. George approached the bed and sat down.
“I am sure that we will have enough time to do everything we need to,” he said, faking a cheerful smile. “Maybe you should rest for a while now and we can talk later.”
“No, there is something I need to say right now, George,” the sick man insisted. “There is something I promised to your mother on her deathbed and I intend to fulfill my promise before it is too late.”
“My mother? You never told me about this,” George said. It was both a question and a complaint.
“Your mother’s dying wish, and now also my own, was to see our only son married and in love,” he said slowly.
George stood up from his chair and approached the window, too emotional to be close to his father. Marriage wasn’t something he opposed, but when he thought about marrying someone, he always imagined himself madly in love with that someone. And right now there was no woman he could see himself falling in love with.
4
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“Viscount Turner is going to become a bank clerk.”
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CHAPTER FOUR
TURNING POINT
“To sit in the shade on a fine day, and look upon verdure is the most perfect refreshment.”
Jane Austen
Turner’s House
Viscount Francis Turner let the book he was reading fall from his hands and continued to look out of the window of his father’s study, lost to the world. Because of some recent developments and a few bad investments of his father’s, Francis’ life had become even harder. His family was not a wealthy one to begin with, but now their financial situation was going downhill fast, complicating life for Francis and his widower father.
The young gentleman had been given the title of Viscount after the death of his Uncle, who had died childless. Unfortunately, the title had come with debts and new responsibilities, which had made his hard life even harder.
Francis shook his head vigorously, wanting to forget everything about his life and focus on the good memories from a few hours ago when he was spending time with his friends. It was always easier for him to open up in front of his friends than to speak to his father, so he had shared with them his worries and his wishes for the future. Because of his friendly and open character, there were many gentlemen and ladies who loved spending time with him and invited him to their homes.
“I wonder how many of them will be still my friends when my financial difficulties became known,” Francis whispered to himself, his right hand almost white from the way he was clutching the armchair.
A soft smile appeared on his lips, then, at the memory of the Roberts sisters and in particular of Emma, the youngest one. He had been their friend since childhood and they still liked to spend time together.
“They will never look down on me,” Francis told himself, firmly convinced that among all his friends, the Roberts sister would be the ones who would understand him best.
The Viscount was about to stand up and leave the study when the door opened and his aging father walked inside. Francis felt the old pain in his chest at the sign of his father, walking with a stick and looking worried and sad.
“Father,” he said politely, standing up and quickly walking towards him to help him sit down. “How are you feeling today? Is there something wrong?”
“Nothing new,” the older man said tiredly. “I just received a letter from my solicitor and he is worried that our financial situation had become unbearable. Francis, I think that it is time for you to find a job, although I know that will be demeaning to you as a gentleman.”
“Father, do you have any idea what are you asking of me?” The young man stood up and looked his father in the eyes. “I am a noble man. I am a Viscount. I am…”
“I know. I know all of that, Francis,” his father said, his eyes filled with sadness, “but before all that we are human beings and there is nothing shameful about working
for your own food. I thought that you could find a job at the local bank. You have always been good with numbers, and the bank manager is my friend. I also think that if you don’t want it to be known, we can arrange for you to work from home…”
The older man continued to speak, but Francis was not really listening to him, his mind gone far away from the study and his family home. Deep down, he knew that he was bound by honor and a sense of duty to his father. Francis already had made his decision. He was going to work hard to take his family out of this horrible situation, and he was going to put up with the consequences.
It hurt him to think that this situation was going to make it almost impossible for him to marry a noblewoman. His father had never really cared about the title, especially when it came without the usual financial support, but Francis was proud to be Viscount Turner and did not want to ruin his reputation.
“Father,” he suddenly said, turning toward the door of the study. “I need some time to think. So, please, excuse me. I am going out for a ride.”
“Francis,” the older man attempted to stand up, but his old bones made it difficult for him to move fast. “Son, just don’t worry too much.”
“I promise I won’t, Father,” said Francis with a forced smile. “I will just go for a ride to clear my head and consider my options.”
The Viscount did not wait for his father to answer and hurried outside. On his way towards the stables, he met the maid and sent her to the study to help his father, hoping that he would be fine. The stable boy was nowhere to be seen. Francis did not bother calling for him, making a quick work of putting the saddle on his favorite horse, Dusty, and riding away.
“A bank clerk,” he continued repeating in his head. “Viscount Turner is going to become a bank clerk.”
Regency Romance: To Love A Viscount (CLEAN Historical Romance) Page 2