“The others are going down to the lake, but I know that path well,” he said. “Shall we go this way instead? I should like to explore a different part of the grounds.”
Meekly she went, head bowed to her fate, and it was not long before he began his speech. He spoke well, of admiration and love, of respect and honour, of how his life would be incomplete without her. He was articulate and persuasive, saying all that was proper. Still she kept her head lowered.
“Connie?” he said gently. “Will you not look at me? I would see your lovely face.”
When she could not, or perhaps would not, for she was not sure herself which it was, he lifted her chin with his hand. Even then, she averted her eyes.
“Ah,” he said, and there was disappointment in his tone. “This is not how it should be.”
“My lord?” she said, and for the first time she looked directly at him.
His expression was rueful. “You are not excited, Connie. This is not what you want.”
She was too confused to answer him.
“There is an arbour in the wall over there,” he said. “Let us sit.”
Dutifully, she let him lead her to the bench. She sat and he sat beside her, gazing at her face, still holding her hand. Again, her eyes dropped.
“You must forgive me,” he began. “I have quite mistaken you. I thought you were waiting, hoping for my declaration. I flattered myself that you were in love with me. But now I see the situation very clearly.”
Connie’s head was spinning at this sudden change, but she grasped at a possible meaning. “Are you withdrawing your offer, my lord?”
“Not at all,” he said. “If you truly wish it, I will marry you gladly, and cherish you for ever. But I do not want you to marry me from duty, Connie. That would be a dreadful thing.”
“But I must marry!” she burst out. “I have three younger sisters depending on it.”
“That is the worst reason in the world!” he cried. “What sort of life would that be, to have you always moping about with your head down like this. I want you to love me, Connie. I want you to look at me with fire in your eyes, the way you look at—” He stopped himself with a click of the tongue.
She said nothing.
He released her hand abruptly. “I can hardly credit this, but I believe that Humphrey, of all people, had it right.”
“Humphrey? Your brother?” She put a hand to her forehead, bemused. “I cannot understand you, my lord. What does your brother have to do with this?”
“Everything!” he said, with a bark of laughter. “And perhaps nothing. Lord, but this is humiliating. I thought I had one over on Dev for once, but now I find he has had the better of me all along.” Another burst of laughter.
Connie jumped to her feet, anger rising inside her. “If it were not so early in the day, my lord, I might suspect you of being in your cups,” she said coldly. “Did you offer for me to spite the Marquess?”
“Nothing of the sort,” he said, rising to stand beside her, but making no effort to take her hand again. “My feelings, my wishes are genuine, although putting Dev’s nose out of joint added a little spice, I will not deny. However, Humphrey was right and your wishes are what is important. I must not, cannot be so selfish as to conceal the truth from you. Miss Allamont, you should know that Dev most sincerely loves you, and would do anything to win you back. He has already taken steps to remove Jack Barnett from the county, only so that you might not be troubled by him. Nothing but his loyalty towards me prevents him from pressing his suit. We both love you, Miss Allamont, and… and you may choose between us, if you will.”
She was too astonished to speak. He made some civil farewells, saying something about leaving her to think over all that he had said. Then he bowed and went away to send for his horse. She was very near the main drive, and if she stayed where she was she could not help but see him ride past, and that she could not bear. There was a gate a little further along the wall, so she made her way there and escaped into the cool stillness of the woods, the canopy green over her head. Finding a side path, she half ran along it to be sure of undisturbed solitude. A fallen tree provided a seat, and for a few minutes she gave way to tears of distress and hope and joy, all mingled together.
He still loved her! Out of all the confusions of Lord Reginald’s words, that was the message that echoed in her head. Despite all that had happened, the Marquess loved her and wanted her, and was only kept away by honour towards his brother.
She was too agitated to sit and compose herself, so she walked on, she hardly knew where, her tears giving way to exhilaration, so that laughter bubbled up inside her. What an end to her darkest fears! She had resigned herself to a betrothal with Lord Reginald, but now that unhappy prospect was replaced by a far more joyous possibility. The Marquess’s handsome face rose up in her mind, smiling at her in the intimate way he had that made her dizzy.
She had begun to consider how long it might be before she would see him again when a bend in the path revealed the man himself, seated on a stile, his hat in his hands, head low, the very picture of dejection.
Her heart turned over, but she did not hesitate. “Lord Carrbridge?”
~~~~~
The Marquess had left his great-aunt’s house not long after Reggie, too upset to sit around. If he had had a riding horse, he might have burned off his fidgets on a fast ride, but he only had his curricle and that was too slow in the village lanes to calm his restlessness. So he had set off on foot, although he had no idea where he was. And every step of the way, the same thought revolved in his head — is she lost to me yet? Followed rapidly by a second thought — how can I bear it?
Eventually, uncertain of where he was and filled with despair, he had found a convenient stile and cast himself down.
And then, the miracle had happened. There she was, her lovely face so concerned.
He jumped up, his treacherous heart leaping with joy. But then, bewilderment, for where was Reggie? Was she betrothed now? Or had she missed him altogether, and Reggie was even now riding home, his offer unmade?
“Miss Allamont?” Dev said tentatively. He hesitated, but he had to know. “Have you seen Reggie this morning?”
“Indeed I have!” she said with a smile of pure joy on her face.
“Oh,” he said, his spirits dropping instantly. But then why was she here? A flicker of hope entered his breast.
“He very kindly made me an offer.”
“Oh.”
“I did not accept him.” The smile widened even further, if that were possible.
“Oh.” And then, because his brain was flapping about ineffectually, “Oh.”
She laughed. “Does that surprise you?”
“It does. I thought…” He began to get his disjointed thoughts into some semblance of order. “Are you going into the village, Miss Allamont?”
“The village?” She gazed about her, as if surprised to find herself where she was, so close to the edge of the woods. “I had no notion I had walked so far. I must turn back.”
“Then may I escort you home?”
She accepted with alacrity, taking his arm. They talked of nothing very much at first, but he felt such a jumble of conflicting emotions that it was quite a miracle that he was able to talk at all.
Then, a flash of white caught his eye. “Flowers! Wild flowers! Should you like some, Miss Allamont? For I know how you love such things.”
When she assented, he dashed off into the undergrowth. “Oh, pray mind your trousers!” she called. “They will be so torn.”
“I do not regard it, if the flowers please you,” he said gallantly. “Here — they are very pretty, I think.”
She smiled and blushed and agreed that they were indeed very pretty.She looked up at him with such a sweet smile on her face that he was quite overcome. His own words failing him, he said the first thing that came into his head.
“’Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate’”
&nb
sp; “Oh!” she breathed. “Are you reciting poetry to me, my lord?”
“I believe I am,” he said. “You said you like such things, you know, so I learned a poem for you. I thought it might please you. Do you like it?”
“I do! Pray continue.”
“Oh. Well, I have lost my place now, so I will have to start again from the beginning. Here I go. ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath… hath…”
“ ‘all too short a date’,” she said.
“You know it, then?” he said.
“Certainly. It is one that Papa made us all learn. He was very fond of Shakespeare’s sonnets. Please go on. The next line is ‘Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm'd’.”
“ ‘…complexion dimm’d. And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance or… or nature's changing course…something; But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose… nor lose…”
The words dried up. “Miss Allamont…” he began, although he hardly knew what he was saying.
“My lord?”
“Miss Allamont, you make the words fly out of my head when you look at me in that way. You are adorable, and delightful, and I have been the world’s greatest fool. I treated you shamefully. I can scarcely bear to think about the dreadful things I said to you that day. Can you ever forgive me? And please, please tell me, can you give me any hope, however small, that you might one day look favourably on me?”
“Yes.”
“Because I cannot bear to think that… Yes?”
“Yes, I forgive you, and yes, you may hope, my lord.”
“Oh!” A long pause. “Oh!” Then, “Not Reggie?”
“Not Reggie. I like him very well, but I do not love him, and I am not very sure that he loves me, either, for I suspect he was driven by a wish to get the better of you. And that is not right, is it? A wife should love her husband, do you not agree? And he should love her.”
“Not love her, no,” he said firmly. “He should adore her. Oh, Miss Allamont!” Heedless of the mud, he dropped to his knees. “My dearest Miss Allamont, I do adore you! How can I live without you? Would you… could you possibly ever consider doing me the inestimable honour of becoming my wife?”
“Oh yes!”
“Because I would always… Yes? Yes! Oh, my darling Miss Allamont, you cannot imagine how happy this makes me.”
“Indeed, but do get up, for your poor trousers will be quite ruined. Think what your valet will say!”
“I hardly think my trousers matter at such a moment,” he said, but he rose and dusted himself down as best he could. “Oh, Miss Allamont, I shall spend the rest of my life ensuring that you are happy.”
“I think you might call me Connie now, if you wish,” she said, smiling shyly up at him.
“Connie,” he murmured, one finger tracing the soft outline of her cheek. “My sweet, adorable Connie. Do you think you could call me Francis?”
“Perhaps I could, Francis. Do you know, these flowers have the most peculiar scent.”
He sniffed them. “Oh dear. I believe I have presented you with a bunch of wild garlic flowers. I am so sorry.”
She could not help laughing at the look of dejection on his face. “You must not be sorry, for it was such a romantic and lovely thing to do. And the poem — you memorised that for me?”
“I did, and very hard it was too, but I thought… I hoped it might please you.”
“And you made Jack Barnett go away. How can I ever thank you enough?”
“My darling girl, your happiness is all the thanks I need. Whatever you want, you must have, you know. If you do not wish to racket around London, you need not, for I do not think you enjoyed your season very much.”
“Indeed I did, only I should prefer not to attend quite so many engagements, you know. It was so fatiguing, and one never has an opportunity to become familiar with anyone.”
“When you are the Marchioness of Carrbridge, you may do as you please in that regard. In fact, you may sit quietly at home, and allow the ton to fight for your approbation. You will be quite a leader of society, my love.”
“That sounds amusing,” she said, smiling up at him. “I believe I shall be very happy as a marchioness.”
He took her hand and raised it to his cheek. “Ah, Connie, my sweet Connie! It shall be my life’s work to make you happy, my angel. I would not have you miserable, not for one second. Everything shall be as you wish, so if you do not want to live at Drummoor or Marford House—”
“Oh, but I do! Whatever made you think I would not?”
“Great big barns, both of them. I thought you might like something less sprawling.”
“Marford House only needs refurbishing, and Drummoor is perfect just as it is. We can make a very cosy little nest for ourselves in one wing.”
“Oh — a cosy nest! That sounds quite wonderful, my sweet, and the dragons will not stay for ever, luckily.”
“I do not mind if they do,” she said. “Indeed, Lady Hester is too frail to live on her own. I should love to take care of her, and the others too, if they will let me. Now do not look so horrified, for they would have they own wing, and you would hardly see them, my love. And then you would have the income from their estates, you see, and you would not be in such want of funds.”
“Good God, what a clever little thing you are! That is quite ingenious. Do you really like the dragons?”
“I do. It would be the most wonderful thing to have a huge family all around me. I have so many relatives that I have never seen,” she said wistfully.
“Then it shall be as you wish, my darling. I wonder... your loveliness is driving me quite to distraction. Might I be permitted to kiss you?”
“Oh, yes. Yes, please.”
He bent his head and gently brushed his lips against hers. Such sweetness, such softness, such warmth! “You taste of honey and… and all sorts of sweet things,” he whispered.
“Why did you stop?” she whispered back, her lips quivering with merriment.
With a bubble of laughter, he leaned down to kiss her properly, the kiss of a lover at last, and to his astonishment and delight, she kissed him back with equal fervour. He thought his heart would burst with joy.
THE END
The next book in the series is Dulcie: The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 4, due out late 2016.
Go to the Mary Kingswood website to buy it, find out more or sign up for the mailing list.
You can read Chapter 1 of Dulcie after the acknowledgements.
Thanks for reading!
If you have enjoyed reading this book, please consider writing a short review on Amazon. You can find out the latest news and sign up for the mailing list at my website. If you’d like to know more about the Allamont family and their friends, watch out for the next book in the series, Dulcie: The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 4, due out late 2016. You can read a sneak preview of Chapter 1 after the acknowledgements.
A note on historical accuracy: I have endeavoured to stay true to the spirit of Regency times, and have avoided taking too many liberties or imposing modern sensibilities on my characters. The book is not one of historical record, but I’ve tried to make it reasonably accurate. However, I’m not perfect! If you spot a historical error, I’d very much appreciate knowing about it so that I can correct it and learn from it. Thank you!
About The Daughters of Allamont Hall: a series of six traditional Regency romances, featuring the unmarried daughters of Mr William and Lady Sara Allamont. When their father dies unexpectedly, his will includes generous dowries for the sisters, but only on condition that they marry in the proper order, the eldest first.
Book 1: Amy
Book 2: Belle
Book 3: Connie
Book 4: Dulcie
Book 5: Grace
Book 6: Hope
Any questions about the series? Email me - I’d love
to hear from you!
About the author
I write traditional Regency romances under the pen name Mary Kingswood, and epic fantasy as Pauline M Ross. I live in the beautiful Highlands of Scotland with my husband. I like chocolate, whisky, my Kindle, massed pipe bands, long leisurely lunches, chocolate, going places in my campervan, eating pizza in Italy, summer nights that never get dark, wood fires in winter, chocolate, the view from the study window looking out over the Moray Firth and the Black Isle to the mountains beyond. And chocolate. I dislike driving on motorways, cooking, shopping, hospitals.
Acknowledgements
Thanks go to:
My grandparents, Henry and Hannah Austin, who named their four children Amy, Constance, Ernest and Frank, and thereby inadvertently inspired these books
My good friends at AC (you know who you are!) who provided me with advice, support, encouragement and kicks up the backside, hand-holding and hugs, laughs and tears, woo chickens, tacos and tubesteak
My beta readers: Mary Burnett, Clara Benson, Marina Finlayson
Last, but definitely not least, my first reader: Amy Ross
Sneak preview: Dulcie - Chapter 1: A Wager
Dulcie could scarcely believe her ears. “You want me to do what?”
Connie sighed. “I am not asking you to walk to Brinchester, sister, or trail through muddy fields. There is no need even to go into the village, for the schoolhouse is nearer than that. It is no distance through the woods, and you would be there and back in an hour, or not much above it.”
“But I had planned to look through the journals you brought back from London to decide on how to trim my new bonnet.”
“And you will have the rest of the day to do so,” Connie snapped. “I would go myself, but I must go to Brinchester with Mama and Hope if I am to have my clothes in time for the wedding.”
“Why cannot Grace go to the schoolhouse?” Dulcie said.
“Because she has already agreed to go with Miss Bellows to High Brafton Farm to take some things for poor Mrs Tarpin. You would not have wanted that task, I know, for it is a long walk over the fields and through Brafton Woods. I am giving you the easiest commission, dear.”
Connie (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 3) Page 21