The Forbidden Valentine_Lady Eleanor Hawthorne_Regency Romance Novel

by Isabella Thorne

  Lord Perrilyn was not so accommodating. He accused Eleanor of some impropriety because she dressed in men’s clothing and allowed David Fithley into her bedroom on the night they had almost eloped and even Eleanor’s own Grandfather complained that it was a shame his son was such a bad shot that he hit his own daughter instead of killing that rotten Firthley.

  “There are some things that never change,” Eleanor said, shaking her head, and David had to agree.

  “I am afraid Grandfather will never come around,” Eleanor lamented to her siblings. “And Firthley’s father is as set in his ways as our grandfather. I doubt Robert will come around either. He is so stubborn he reminds me of Grandfather.”

  “Oh I don’t know about that,” Matthew told her. “Things are about to change.”

  ~.~

  The day of the wedding dawned sunny and washed clean with the previous night’s rain. There was still the possiblity of rain, but one cannot entirely eliminate that threat while still living in England. Still, Eleanor awoke hopeful. After all the trials they had come through, a bit of rain did not frighten her.

  She was eager to see David again. Just the thought of his touch on her skin made her stomach erupt with butterflies. She threw back the covers and rose to her feet. Gathering her dressing gown about her, she moved to the window and peered out to see the start of her wedding day. It smelled like spring. She took a deep breath and then turned around and saw the sunlight fall on her new gown. She had not thought to have a gown or even a wedding.

  She was willing to marry Lord Firthley in her brother’s trousers if need be, but fate had seen to her, and was providing a beautiful wedding with her sisters in attendance and even her father had reluctantly agreed to walk her down the aisle. Eleanor thought her mother had something to do with that. After ringing for her maid, Eleanor sat in front of her looking glass and began to get ready for the big day.

  ~.~

  In their rooms next door, Eleanor’s sisters also woke up bemused and excited. Betty hurried to Eleanor’s room and bounced on her bed.

  “Could you just die with excitement?” she asked.

  “Actually, I think I could,” Eleanor said.

  “Wake up Grace,” Lily called knocking on her door.

  Eleanor could imagine Grace stretching luxuriously and turning over in her bed, but not to worry. Eleanor knew Lily would hit her with a pillow if she did not wake soon.

  Eleanor smiled as she heard Lily complaining.

  “Get up you lazy slug-a –bed,” Lily urged. “We all have to dress and be ready in time for the wedding.” None of the sisters could not stay in their rooms, but instead, hurried to greet Eleanor, the first of them to marry, but certainly not the last.

  ~.~

  David Firthley and his cousin Harry Westlake stood at the front of the chapel with the preacher standing between them. Lord Perrilyn stood off to one side, while a few extended family members from both families stood uncomfortably in the front pews. Each Firthley was wondering what they would say to a Hawthorne and each Hawthorne was wondering what they should say to a Firthley after all these years of not speaking.

  ~.~

  At last the sisters were ready to depart for the church. The carriages were cleaned and the horses were brushed. All of the help turned out to smile and wish the couple well. Before Lord Hanway handed his daughter into the carriage, he caught her gloved hands.

  “You look so beautiful, he said. “Eleanor, My daughter. I…” he stammered and stopped. He dropped her hands abruptly and left her wondering what he was going to say. “We should go,” he said helping her into the carriage.

  “Father,” she said as the carriage pulled away from the house. “I am so happy.”

  He smiled slowly back at her. “I am glad you are happy,” he said and she supposed that was all of the permission she was going to get from her father. At least he was walking her down the aisle. She was not at Gretna Green. One had to be thankful for that.

  The double doors of the church opened. Eleanor stood beside her father but her eyes were only for her groom. He was so tall and handsome standing at the front, waiting for her.

  David was struck dumb as he stared at his bride. Lady Eleanor was stunning. Standing framed in the door of the church, the sunlight on her face, she took his breath away. Her hair was piled high on her head with delicate curls framing her face, a crown of baby’s breath and violets, just the color of her eyes was woven into her hair. Her dress was the same pale shade of violet, just a little lighter than her eyes. Her bouquet was collection of flowers from her father’s garden, a few fine white lilies, violets and a few pale pink roses all wrapped in lace. Her sisters were all smiling with beautiful ringlets bound loosely with ribbon and pulled over one shoulder.

  Eleanor thought they all looked beautiful. It would not be long until they were all married too.

  Holding tightly to her bouquet, Eleanor walked down the aisle on her father’s arm and stood next to David.

  “Who giveth this woman,” the preacher asked, and her father answered quite clearly, “I do.”

  Eleanor smiled. Never again would he be able to complain about the Firthleys because he had just proclaimed in a church, before God, that he gave his daughter away to a Firthley. Suddenly, the smile would not leave her face.

  Eleanor pulled off her gloves for the exchange of rings and suddenly she could not get her fingers out of the material. David took her hand and held the fingers of the gloves. Eleanor remembered standing outside of his house, and his helping her with her mittens on a snowy day. Had it been just months ago? She passed the gloves to Lily to hold them while David slid his grandmother’s amethyst ring on her finger.

  As the preacher read the marriage oath, the couple turned to face each other and stared into each other’s eyes. They repeated the words solemnly. Eleanor felt a sudden tightening in her heart as she looked up and realized the man before her was about to be her husband; a single tear slipped down her cheek and she smiled bashfully at him, warmth flooding her as he wiped the tear away with his thumb and smiled back.

  The preacher cleared his throat. “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

  David smiled widely and leaned in to kiss his bride. Eleanor, remembered her first real kiss from David when she felt his lips touch hers and a fire ignited within her. She gripped his arms tightly and let herself be transported; she leaned into his kiss eager for it to go on. Firthley broke the kiss and for just a moment as he pulled away she saw the deep desire there, in his warm brown eyes. Soon he would be completely hers, and she would be his. He smiled at her, with the promise of many more kisses to come.

  ~.~

  Lord Hanway took in the quiet exchange between the couple and he smiled inwardly. His own wife laid her hand on his arm. He knew his daughter thought him cruel, but he only wanted what was best for her. Truly he did. He had considered money, position, honor and of course the kindness of the man or lack thereof. Sadly, he had not taken love into account. He and his wife had married without love at first, but they had grown to a mutual respect, and she had given him two fine sons and four daughters. I love her, he thought quite surprisingly. Lord Hanway looked at his wife and smiled. She was crying with all the abundance of a watering can and did not notice. He said nothing. He simply pulled out his handkerchief and gave it to his wife, because hers was already sodden.

  When the ceremony was over Lord Hanway stepped up to the newly married couple and smiled at both Eleanor and Firthley. He took one of Eleanor’s hands and one of Fithley’s, squeezing them tightly, he leaned in. “My best wishes for you both on a long and happy marriage,” He said. Then he looked at Eleanor and patted her face. “I know I have been coarse and hard on you. I have doubted you. I hope…” he stopped, unable to say the words.

  Eleanor hugged him fiercely and whispered. “I know, Father. Thank you” His daughter kissed his cheek and then turned to her new husband. She slipped her arm through Lord Firthley’s and allowed him to lead her out of the c
hurch and into the sunshine.

  ~.~

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  Continue reading for a SNEAK PEEK of the next

  Regency Romance Novel by Isabella Thorne

  The Baron in Bath ~ Miss Julia Bellevue

  The Baron in Bath

  ~Part 1 ~

  The Baron’s Betrothal

  Chapter One

  Miss Julia Bellevue and her older sister Lady Jane, The Countess of Keegain traveled from London to Bath with a large party, all of whom were her sister’s friends and not Julia’s own. Although the seats were plush and the steeds were swift, such accoutrements could not make the travel comfortable. Julia knew that she should not complain her sister’s connections, through her husband The Earl, meant that Julia was traveling well above her station with the Beresfords’ party, but the three days travel from London was interminable and she could not wait to be freed from the carriage even if it meant meeting the gentleman who was the main cause of her worry. Her intended.

  Since most of the Ton retired to Bath to get out of the heat and smell of Town, it was easy for two young women of quality to find a party with whom they could travel.

  When Julia had asked Jane to hire a private coach for them, her sister had been perplexed. Jane only reiterated that they would be in good company and dismissed Julia’s misgivings about traveling with the large group, saying they would be safer from highway men with The Earl’s coach and several members of the Royal Navy along with their sisters and ladies.

  It seemed to Julia that most of the Royal Navy fleet was outside the window of the coach. The men were rather loud, laughing and joking with one another, excited for their summer holiday in Bath. Several had chosen to ride astride and others rode up front with the drivers. The men made Julia nervous. Their presence only reminded her of the gentleman she was traveling to Bath to meet. Men in general made her tense, and gentlemen in particular, tended to cause her to lose what little poise she had. Perhaps it was her mother’s blood which too often seemed to come to the surface and with it, a most unladylike interest in indelicate thoughts.

  Although she was not much of a horsewoman, she thought the gentlemen looked much happier outside of the coach. She admired the masculine cut of their jackets as they rode. She let her mind wander from one to the other, and although she was already warm in the close confines of the coach, she felt a familiar heat fill her face as she admired the form of one of the men who had loosened his jacket and stood in the stirrups to stretch. Ladies were not supposed to have such thoughts, she admonished herself especially not betrothed ladies.

  She tore her eyes away, and turned back to the interior of the carriage where her sister was conversing with the other ladies of the Ton. Julia brought up her fan to hide her blush, but she also needed it to move the otherwise stifling air in the carriage.

  Even her sister Jane’s normally perfectly coifed dark hair was clinging to her brow in damp ringlets, albeit neat ringlets. Julia looked like a wilted mess. Both Julia and Jane were brunettes, but that was where the similarity between the sisters ended. Jane looked like a Princess; Julia was more likely to be mistaken for a knight. Jane was regal, whereas, Julia was large and awkward both in form and speech. Jane was ever The Countess. She shined at parties. Her words were kind and men sought to please her; women to emulate her. Julia was blunt to the point of rudeness, and often managed to unintentionally insult someone important. Men found her uncouth and she found them overly filled with pomposity.

  Unlike Julia, Jane had looked forward to this trip and time sharing a carriage with the other ladies. Julia knew the traveling party would be rather boisterous and she had dreaded the trip before it actually happened. The reality did not disappoint.

  Now, Julia sat quietly in the corner of the coach, picking at a string on the plush upholstery while her sister’s friends talked around her. Julia would have liked to remain invisible, but it was hard to be inconspicuous when one’s breeding and stature was so obvious. Some said she was an unnatural Amazon. Julia towered above the other women, including her sister. It made her uncomfortable and self-conscious. In an attempt to alleviate this fault she shifted downward in the corner. At least she was sitting in the coach, so her monstrous difference in height was not so apparent.

  Before they departed Julia had admonished her sister that under no circumstances was she to try to draw her into conversation with the other ladies, and Jane had reluctantly agreed. In polite company, Julia tended to make one gaffe after the other, so she tried to be silent. Jane was quite the realist and knew trying to converse with her sister in the coach would be a disaster. Julia would have nowhere to flee if she made some faux pas. Sometimes however, her tongue seemed to have a mind of its own.

  Julia had only a sparse handful of friends herself due to the rumors of her birth, and was really only comfortable speaking with them. None of these friends were with her now, but at least she could look forward to seeing them in Bath – that is if this odious journey ever ended.

  She turned her body towards the window and looked out of it again. They were now on the last day of travel, and Julia could no longer ignore that there was a reason for their trip to Bath, other than the summer holiday. The thought made her stomach tie up in painful knots.

  When the conversation in the coach turned into a heated discussion over which man was more of a rake: Neville Collington, The Earl of Wentwell or Godwin Gruger, The Baron of Fawkland she wanted to sink into the floorboards of the coach, since Lord Fawkland, was the very man to which her father had so thoughtlessly betrothed her; the gentleman who caused her trip to Bath to be fraught with such anxiety. Though it seemed, according to the ladies’ gossip, that The Baron was less than a gentleman. Julia simply bit her tongue and blushed.

  She could only hope the other women forgot about her entirely. She slid further down in her seat and wished she could disappear, but she was far too large a girl to even become inconspicuous, never mind invisible.

  “I have heard that Lord Fawkland escorted a lady home in his carriage.” A blonde friend of Jane’s said. She paused for effect, fanning herself. “Without a chaperone.”

  “It has come to my notice that this was not the first time,” the other lady, a pert red-head added.

  Julia must have made some noise that drew their attention, for the first woman turned to her. “Is it true then,” The blonde asked. “Did your father truly betroth you to The Baron of Fawkland? The lady’s startling blue eyes were fixed on Julia and she found all she could do was murmur, “Yes.”

  “Well, he is very good looking,” the blonde replied. “In a rather large and over-bearing sort of way. You must admit that.”

  The second lady tsked. “Oh, dear, you know looks are not everything. The poor girl, how perfectly horrid.” She looked sympathetically at Julia. “Is there not some way around it?” she asked.

  Jane shook her head at her friends, answering for her younger sister. “My husband, The Earl has his solicitors looking into the matter, but he suggested we go ahead as if it cannot be broken.”

  Julia noted that mercifully, Jane did not go into great detail here amongst near strangers. “But perhaps it can be changed,” Julia murmured to herself. At least Jane had asked her husband to check into the matter, even if he offered little hope. Julia reached across and gripped her sister’s hand in thanks. Jane smiled at her briefly but offered no other encouragement.

  Julia supposed that her father had planned with her best interests at heart when he made the arrangements for her after his death. Yes, he h
ad left her with a last request, which as it was a last request, it was not a request at all It was a command. He had betrothed her to The Baron of Fawkland, Godwin Gruger, all unbeknownst to Julia, thinking he was a childhood friend. Without a doubt, this was prior to the soiling of Lord Fawkland’s reputation. Her sister Jane was initially quite elated that Julia would become a baroness, but Julia did not share her sister’s love for titulature.

  Julia was not a social person. She could not possibly be a baroness. No. She did not want to marry The Baron of Fawkland. Julia and Godwin Gruger had never been friends, even as children. Their age difference had been too great, and Godwin thought himself already a baron. When his father died and Godwin had actually inherited the barony, he came home from the Navy even more cool and distant.

  The one time she had spoken with him since Julia felt entirely out of her depth. She had never gotten on well with Godwin and now if rumor was to be believed he was a terrible rake. He had not changed from the wicked boy who had broken her dolls. For it seemed he was now just as careless with women’s hearts. Everything was wrong with her father’s decree. It was Lord Fawkland’s younger brother Cedric she remembered. Cedric was much more lighthearted, ever involved in some trick.

  Oh why had her father not chosen Cedric instead of Godwin? Julia was nearly of an age with the younger brother, though she must have been about ten when she last spoken to him. Still she had played with the younger brother as a child when Cedric had invited her on his mischievous jaunts. He had even played tricks on the ladies who teased Julia on her behalf. Some of those, she now thought, quite cruel, but his older brother was over six years her senior and a stranger to her.