The Mammoth Book of Regency Romance

by Trisha Telep

  “It is just like our garden in Portugal,” she told him, reaching out to touch the narrow leaf of a palm.

  “You lived in Portugal?”

  “Yes. Though not always. I was born in the West Indies. Then my father’s regiment was sent to Portugal.”

  “I imagine you find London quite different.”

  She laughed. “I find London ever so cold.”

  They both laughed.

  “Is it still a cold place?” he asked, drawing her into his arms.

  “No,” she said, shivering, and definitely not from London’s notorious chill.

  His hands, firm and warm, pulled her closer, until she was nestled right up against his chest. Her hands splayed over his surcoat, and marvelled at the hard plains beneath.

  Like a Templar reborn.

  “I don’t even know your name,” he whispered as he lowered his head, drew his lips closer to hers.

  “Does it matter?” she whispered.

  “No. Not really,” he said, his breath warm on her lips. And then that breath became his lips, covering hers and stealing a kiss.

  Ella didn’t know what to expect, but this . . . this invasion . . . this breach of her defences, left her breathless. His tongue sallied over her lips, teased her to open the gates, to let him storm forth. Everything she knew about defences gave way to his very expert onslaught.

  Besides, how was she not to let him in, when he was creating this breathless storm inside her?

  Desire, new and exhilarating, raced through her, as his hands held her even closer, began to explore her, running down her sides, curving around her backside.

  Ella was starting to burn.

  His kiss deepened and, instead of being frightened – as she supposed she should be, as she ought to be – she welcomed him, drawing him closer, her arms winding around his neck.

  She had to hold him like that, for her knees, her legs, her insides, had become ever so unreliable, quaking with need, with desires, leaving her shaky and unsettled . . . and eager for more.

  He drew back from her, lips parted for a moment, and gazed at her, a wonder in his eyes that startled her. For even in her innocence, she knew this was different. This wasn’t what he had expected.

  Or had he known all along, just as they had found themselves drawn to each other in the middle of the ballroom?

  “Ahem,” came a polite cough from the doorway of the conservatory, breaking into their intimate moment of wonderment. “Sir?”

  Her knight looked up. “Yes?”

  “You are required inside,” the fellow said, staring down at the floor.

  “Yes, thank you, Shifton.”

  The man bowed and left.

  “I must—” he said, waving at the door. “But only for a little bit,” he added hastily.

  “Yes, I understand,” she said. “I think I should go to the retiring room and put myself in order.”

  “I will only undo it later,” he told her, leaning over and kissing her brow tenderly. Ella should have realized then, it was actually a promise.

  Three

  Ella rushed into the empty retiring room, her cheeks completely flushed and her heart hammering. Whatever is happening to me?

  She was falling in love. Oh, and it was perfect and delicious and wonderful. She hugged herself and spun around, only to come to a complete stop when she realized she wasn’t alone.

  For there in a chair in the corner sat an elderly matron.

  “Oh, I didn’t know—” Ella stammered, glancing towards the door and then around the room.

  The lady’s gaze narrowed and then she rose and crossed the room. As she got closer, Ella’s eyes widened in recognition. “Mrs Garraway!”

  “Ella Cynders, oh, my dear!” The lady took Ella into her arms and hugged her tight. “You wicked, wicked girl! You don’t know how I have worried after you. And here you are.” Mrs Garraway held her out at arm’s length and examined her, smiling widely.

  “How is the Colonel?” Ella asked, as she took off her mask to get a better look at her mother’s dear friend. Colonel Garraway had been her father’s commanding officer, and Ella and her mother had spent countless hours with Mrs Garraway, sewing and gossiping and keeping each other company in Portugal.

  That is until Ella’s parents had died, and Ella had been sent home to live with an aunt. But unbeknownst to the kindly Garraways, the lady had also recently died, leaving Ella without friend, family or a home. That was how she had ended up as Lady Pamela’s paid companion.

  “He’s just the same, always in a fine fettle over something. But won’t he be ever so happy to see you. We’ve been so worried, for when we got to London and discovered that your aunt had passed away and there wasn’t a word of you, I feared the worst. But I see I was worried for naught, for here you are and looking perfectly lovely.” She hugged Ella again and looked to be ready to burst out in tears. “Wherever have you been?”

  “I took a position, Mrs Garraway. I work for Lady Osborn as her daughter’s companion,” Ella told her.

  Instead of being shocked or disappointed, Mrs Garraway nodded approvingly. “That’s my girl. You were never so above yourself that you couldn’t find your way. That’s what the Colonel kept saying. ‘Got her father’s nerve,’ he’d say when I would get to fretting.” She paused and looked Ella over again. “And they must be very fond of you to give you such a lovely costume and let you have suitors.”

  Bad enough that the colour in her cheeks drained away, Ella couldn’t even look the lady in the eye. Oh, she was in the suds now. More so than for just taking Pamela’s place at the ball.

  “Ella!” Mrs Garraway said, her voice turning from welcoming to stern. “I can see it on your face. What mischief is this?”

  She bit her lip and looked over at the woman who was the closest person she had left to family. And with her thoughts in a whirl, she turned to the lady and confessed all. “Mrs Garraway, I am in such a tangle. Lady Pamela begged me to take her place tonight. Lady Osborn thinks I am her daughter.”

  “Is the woman so daft that she can’t see her own daughter?”

  “She’s a bit near-sighted,” Ella confessed. “And has paid little heed to Lady Pamela until now. She confuses me with her daughter often, so we thought, well, Lady Pamela knew that her mother wouldn’t notice the difference.”

  Mrs Garraway shook her head. She’d raised three daughters herself, all while following the drum, and seen them all married to good men. But she’d done so by keeping a close eye on them. And her maternal ways returned in full force. “And where is this Lady Pamela?”

  Again, Ella blanched. “She’s run off.” And when the good lady gasped, she continued quickly, “He is a good man – Lord Percy Snodgrass, the second son of the Marquess of Lichfield. They are very much in love.”

  The Colonel’s wife pursed her lips. “And if it is a good match, Ella Cynders, why ever are they eloping?”

  “Their parents don’t approve.”

  This didn’t win any favour from Mrs Garraway. “Oh, good heavens, gel, however did you get mixed up in such a scandal? You’ll be sacked. Did you think about that?”

  Ella shook her head. “Oh, no, it won’t be like that.”

  Mrs Garraway’s brows rose into a pair of question marks.

  “Well, yes, I will be sacked, that much is for certain,” she conceded. “But Lady Pamela has promised to hire me as her companion, so I will have a job once again when they return to London.”

  “Oh, Ella, think on this. Does Lord Percy have an income? Estates? The capacity to keep a wife? Do his parents approve of the match?”

  “Well, not exactly—” In fact, they had forbidden it. They wanted an heiress for Percy, since he was unlikely to inherit. And Lady Pamela, while a lovely creature, would come to her marriage with little, considering her father’s shaky finances.

  “And if his parents don’t approve of the match, do you honestly think they will take you – the one who helped to make this mésalliance happen – into
their employ?”

  Oh, that had never occurred to her! As Pamela had laid out her plans, it seemed so simple. And now . . . “You don’t think I’ll be—”

  “You’ll be dismissed without references, gel. You’ve landed yourself in a great deal of trouble.”

  Ella’s breath froze in her throat. No, it couldn’t be. But, in her heart, she knew the truth. Tears welled up in her eyes. Oh, she was done for.

  “Now, now, no need for all that. It isn’t your fault – entirely – that this Lady Pamela is a headstrong piece, not that her ladyship is like to see it that way. Still, I can see you haven’t changed a bit. You romantic thing. You likely thought Lady Pamela’s marriage would be just like your parents’, didn’t you? But your mother fully understood the consequences that her marriage wrought.”

  Ella nodded. Her own parents had made a runaway marriage and been blissfully happy despite the family cutting their daughter off completely. Her grandparents had even refused to acknowledge Ella.

  “They loved each other, and they never lacked for anything, and neither will Lady Pamela,” Ella said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. Despite her father being an officer with no background, her aristocratic mother had been more than content to follow him. The likelihood of the pampered Lady Pamela living happily in reduced circumstances wasn’t so certain. Not even with Lord Percy at her side. For he was just as spoiled. “Oh, Mrs Garraway, I am in ever so much of a coil.”

  “That you are, lass. That you are.” Then Mrs Garraway smiled. “But it is your good luck that I’ve found you when I did. The Colonel is being sent back to Portugal and I am off with him. We sail in the morning, and you will come with us. I’ve missed you, gel. So after her ladyship sends you off with a flea in your ear and you are in complete disgrace, make haste to the docks, so you can come and keep me company in my dotage. That is, if you don’t mind coming to Portugal? Better than the streets of London, I have to say.”

  Ella didn’t know what to say. So she threw herself into the lady’s arms and hugged her tight. “Oh, Mrs Garraway, whatever have I done to deserve you?”

  “You might not say that in a few months when you’ve grown tired of me!” she laughed, a fond glow in her eyes. “Oh, now, don’t gape so, gel.” She glanced again at Ella’s costume. “I must say, dear girl, you are going into your disgrace in an elegant fashion. You sewed that costume, didn’t you?”

  “You would know, you taught me every stitch,” she said, finally finding her voice, and swiping at the tears that had bubbled up in her eyes.

  “I might have taught you how, but you have an eye, lass. Your mother’s eye for colour. And for handsome fellows, I must say. Whoever is that swain of yours?” The lady grinned and glanced at the door, for the music was striking up again.

  “I don’t know,” Ella confessed. “But he is so handsome, and so kind. Yet, I am hardly—”

  “Bah! He’d be lucky to have you,” the lady said. “And if things were different . . .” The dear woman sighed and hugged her one more time. “Oh, Ella, it isn’t fair, but it is the way of things.”

  She knew exactly what Mrs Garraway meant. If Ella wasn’t in service . . . if her parents hadn’t married in disgrace . . . If she were really a lady . . .

  Mrs Garroway took Ella’s mask and tied it on to her face once again. “Never you mind, gel. I was young once. And in love. Besides, that knight you’ve found is a handsome devil. I’d dance with him too if I was your age. Do more than dance, I daresay,” she said with a laugh.

  Ella blushed. “I never imagined—” Her fingers went to her lips.

  “Oh, so he’s gone and kissed you, has he? Good. Give you something happy to remember of this night.” She shooed her towards the door. “Go with him tonight. Make your memories, gel. Then come dawn, take your lumps from her ladyship, pack your bags – if she gives you time for that – and make your way to the docks. We sail first thing.”

  “Mrs. Garraway . . .” Ella began, pausing at the door.

  “Yes, lass?”

  “However can I thank you?”

  “Enjoy this night,” she told her, her blue eyes asparkle with mischief. “The reckoning will come soon enough.”

  Enjoy this night. Mrs Garraway’s encouragement filled Ella’s heart with hope as she slipped out of the retiring room and paused in the hallway, wondering which way to go.

  Back to the conservatory and hope her knight would come to her? Or back to the ballroom where he had been summoned?

  Of course, then she risked running into Lady Osborn, who would surely be searching for “Pamela” by now. No, probably best to go to the ballroom and make some muttered excuse about not feeling well.

  Then again, she realized, she couldn’t confess to being too ill. Lady Osborn, in some rare pique of maternal concern, might decide to take her home.

  No, that will not do, Ella decided.

  But as it turned out, it wasn’t for her to decide. Just before she got to the ballroom, her knight came swooping out of an alcove.

  “Good heavens, I thought you’d never come down from there.” He caught her in his arms again and kissed her anew. This time his lips were hungry and quick and ever so wonderful. “Whatever is it that you ladies do up there?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” she said, thinking of Mrs Garraway’s advice.

  “Would you like a tour of the house,” he offered. “I know for a fact that Lord Ashe shares your penchant for military history, and has a fine map room upstairs.”

  “Do you think that would be right?” she asked, looking up the stairs. The retiring room was the first room of a long hall, but one never ventured past the safety of the retiring room into parts unknown.

  Then again, ladies didn’t kiss strangers in conservatories either.

  “Upon my honour, I know Ashe wouldn’t mind in the least.”

  “If you don’t think Lord Ashe would mind,” she agreed, all too curious.

  He took her hand, and then glanced around to make sure no one noticed them. They darted up the stairs like a pair of wayward children.

  Down the hall they went and into the study, where there was only the glow of coals in the fireplace. It was a grand space, with a large map table in the middle – atop it were spread several charts and city plans held down with lead soldiers. The table was ingenious, designed so that roll upon roll of maps could be stored in the cubbyholes built into the base.

  Bookshelves lined one wall, while a desk and chair took up another corner. A long, wide settee, with a chair opposite, sat before the fireplace.

  It was the sort of place she could imagine a general plotting his spring conquests. Then her gaze flitted over to the rare light in her knight’s eyes. It was the light of another sort of conquest. And when he caught hold of her and kissed her, she knew she should raise her defences, flee for the safety of the ballroom, but all she could consider was that this was her last night here.

  Then it would be off to Portugal, to a life as Mrs Garraway’s companion. And yes, the dear lady would do her best to marry her off to some officer or other, but Ella knew it would never again be like this.

  Like this starry brush with the heavens. As if the Fates had brought them together to remind them of what could be had . . . And lost.

  And so Ella caught hold of him and held fast to what chance had offered her.

  It was wrong, it was foolhardy, but if she didn’t . . . oh, if she didn’t, she would regret it the rest of her life.

  As her mother had said often enough, If I’d had only one night with my Roger it would alone have been worth every bit of disgrace . . .

  And that kind of talk was another part of growing up in army camps, travelling with soldiers, living far from the drawing rooms and strict society of London.

  Ella, at one and twenty, had a pretty good notion of what happened between men and women. Having seen enough camp followers in her days, lived around the rough talk of common men, the physical act was no mystery to her.
/>   So when her knight kissed her, carried her over to the settee, she wasn’t afraid. No, she was ever so curious. Ever so desirous – for he had awakened inside her an insatiable need.

  They fell into the wide, warm depths of the settee in a tangle of limbs.

  They kissed, deeply, hungrily, until it seemed to flame a fire of need neither could deny.

  He kissed her neck, sending tendrils of desire dancing through her limbs. He freed one of her breasts and kissed it tenderly, taking the nipple into his mouth and sucking on it – first slowly, gently, then pulling it deeply into his mouth. At the same time, he tormented the other with his hand, bringing both nipples to taut points.

  Ella arched beneath his touch, his kiss, for he was bringing her body to life. When his hand slid beneath her gown, ran up her leg, up her thigh, touched her so intimately, traced circles around the tight, throbbing nub hidden there, instead of being shocked, she gasped, for his teasing touch only made the torment so much more inescapable. She sought out his lips and kissed him, her hands ran beneath his surcoat, around his leggings.

  Unlike breeches, his leggings left no means to conceal what was beneath them – a hard masculine line straining to be freed. And she ached to release him. Find her own release from this wild fire he stoked inside her. So she brazenly traced her fingers over his form, stroked him, boldly reaching inside his leggings to free him.

  He moved, instinctively, atop her, poised to take her, fill her and then, suddenly, his eyes widened, as if he were awakening from a dream.

  He brushed the hair back from her face, his breath coming in ragged sighs. “You’ve never—”

  She knew what he meant. Never done this. Not trusting herself to say the words, she just shook her head.

  He started to pull away. “This is madness. We shouldn’t . . . But dammit, my fey little beauty, you have bewitched me.”