Regency for all Seasons: A Regency Romance Collection

by Mary Lancaster

  She appeared to accept his apology. “I know. I never meant to admonish you, but this is an important lesson I’ve learned from this book. We each carry our burdens and have to figure out how to best accomplish our goals. Discussing the masculine urge to mate must have sounded odd, especially coming from me.”

  “Very,” he admitted.

  “I’m almost finished reading the book. I can lend it to you if you prefer to read it on your own. These opening chapters are the most controversial ones. The rest of this book is about forming the unique bonds of love that unite our hearts and not merely our bodies.”

  She paused, as though waiting for him to contradict her, then pressed on when he did not. “My goal is to become special to you, but I don’t know if I can accomplish it in a mere week. The author says I don’t have to be regarded as beautiful by everyone, just you. You are the only man whose opinion matters. You are the one who must look at me and think that I am beautiful. Not just my features, but all of me. The way I look, my scent, the sound of my voice, and so on. This is the importance of our five senses and why we must learn to use them properly.”

  Romulus had never once thought of marriage in this way. Yet, it made perfect sense. When Sophie looked at James, she saw beyond his scars. She loved him for his wit, intelligence, and honor. She saw him as handsome.

  He turned to Violet.

  Lord, was it possible she was the one for him? Time would tell, he supposed. “What do you see when you look at me, Violet?”

  She blushed again. “Obviously, a handsome man.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “That’s a good start.”

  “One who may know lots about ships but nothing about setting up a household,” she teased. “You like your independence. That’s why buying General Allworthy’s house was so important to you. The details of how to properly furnish it and keep it up are secondary to you, but you’ll soon have the staff to attend to that part.”

  “I don’t expect to be independent for long.”

  She nodded. “Lady Withnall. If I could bind and gag her, toss her in a travel trunk, and ship her off to the wilds of Mongolia, I would.”

  “Why, Violet. I believe you would.” He smiled in approval.

  “This is what infuriates me the most, to have our independence stolen from us. That is, you are truly independent. I’m not. But I am not willing to give up the right to choose my own husband.”

  “What is it you wish for in a husband?” Romulus wanted to kick himself for not thinking to ask her this question before. He’d been thinking mostly of himself. Yes, he’d wanted to protect Violet but hadn’t given thought to her wishes beyond that.

  “Kindness, intelligence. Someone who can make me laugh, although obviously not a witless fool. Someone who will accept me for who I am and encourage me to be the best person I can be.”

  “Ah, and here I hoped you’d be a mere appendage.” He took the book from her hands and set it beside him on the bench. “I’m jesting, of course. Violet, you need never fear that I won’t appreciate you or respect you.”

  “How can you be sure? You cringed at the mere mention of my singing. It is something I love to do.”

  He winced. “And once I’d heard you, it wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d feared. It was lovely.”

  “But not something you’d care to listen to at all hours of the day.”

  He tensed. “Do you sing all day?”

  She shook her head. “No, but there are times when I wish to. I give you fair warning, there will be musicales in our home, should we marry.” She stared at him. “See, you’re already feeling shackled. How will we ever work this out?”

  “We will, Violet. I’m sure there are things I will do that you won’t like. Not that I don’t like your singing. In fact, you have a lovely voice. It’s the thought of everyone else singing in my house that I detest.”

  “Detest?”

  “Well, perhaps that’s rather harsh. But a man likes to come home to peace and quiet.”

  She frowned. “So, our children will be shut up as well?”

  “No, of course not. I’ll want to see them.” How had this discussion suddenly descended into a brewing fight? “Violet, don’t leap to conclusions about me. The Braydens are a large and boisterous family. You Farthingales aren’t the only tightly knit clan. And Braydens mostly produce boys. So many boys, in fact, that we became known as the wildebeests, because when we were younger, we surely were wild as beasts. There are eight of us who are fairly close in age. Do you know what a house full of growing boys is like? Especially boys the size of Braydens?”

  Her frowned eased. “No, we are mostly girls in this family.”

  “A very different thing. We didn’t just walk to the table and take our seats. We were a thundering herd, stampeding to grab our share of food before one of the other wildebeests claimed it for his own. I am used to noise. I am used to having lots of family about. Frankly, I don’t know how my parents or my aunts and uncles put up with us. I don’t know how my sister, Gabrielle, survived trampling.”

  Now Violet was smiling.

  He breathed a sigh of relief. “We’ll work it out, whatever our differences.”

  She said nothing for the longest moment, which prompted him to ask, “What are you thinking?”

  “That you managed to climb out of the hole you dug for yourself,” she teased. “That was well said. But you surprise me.”

  “How so?”

  “You seem more invested in this marriage idea than I am.”

  Gad, was it true? He wanted in while she wanted out?

  The possibility had never occurred to him. He was wealthy in his own right. Nothing like his brother, but still quite well off. He was smart. He wouldn’t have been given command of one of the finest vessels in the Royal Navy fleet if he wasn’t. Women found him handsome. He’d never had to work hard to get any female he wanted into his bed.

  Wealthy. Smart. Handsome.

  But Violet hadn’t listed wealthy or handsome as a consideration when describing her ideal husband.

  So what? He had other good qualities. Faithfulness, for one.

  There would be no more chasing women now that he was quietly betrothed to Violet. Nor would he chase skirts after they were married. Violet would be the only one to share his bed. The Brayden men were always true to their wives.

  He ran a hand across the nape of his neck in dismay. What if Violet decided she didn’t like him once they were married? What if she decided not to share his bed?

  He wanted a wife…well, not just yet. But he would marry Violet to protect her even if she seemed reluctant to protect herself.

  He never considered marriage merely as a means to breed heirs.

  He wanted to share a life with Violet. All of it, the good times and bad. Children, even when they were messy and noisy. Intimacy, because he wanted her body. Laughter and tenderness, because he wanted her heart.

  He stared at the red leather book. “Violet, let’s try this again. Tell me what you hope for in a husband. This time, I’ll really listen.”

  She glanced up at him, her beautiful eyes filled with hurt. “Do you mean you weren’t listening before?”

  Chapter Seven

  As Violet prepared for the dinner party at Lady Dayne’s neighboring townhouse, she was starting to worry this book her sister had claimed was magical, was in fact, more of a harbinger of doom.

  It saddened her to come to this conclusion, for she liked Romulus Brayden very much. But the more they found out about each other, the more incompatible they seemed. The physical part was not the problem. Goodness, he was big and handsome, and if one were to make a list of the qualities a woman would want to find in a man in order to protect her children from being eaten by wolves, Romulus had all those qualities.

  He was strong and would be fiercely protective of his offspring.

  But would he care for her?

  She did not need to rush into marriage, unless Lady Withnall flapped her big mouth and thoroughly ruined
her. But otherwise, she wasn’t destitute or desperate.

  Were she to have children, and her husband could not protect them, she had her parents, a wonderful sister who was married to a kind and generous earl, and a horde of welcoming relatives to help her. She would be fine, even assuming said husband took all her wealth and left her with nothing.

  Perhaps she was overly fretting about Romulus. This was only their first full day of knowing each other. Yesterday hardly counted, it had all gone by in a blur.

  Tomorrow would be better.

  She studied herself in the mirror, disappointed the welts from the bee stings were still noticeable, especially the one on the tip of her nose. These sting marks dotted her arms, neck, and chest as well. “Oh, Miss Violet, I’m sure no one will notice the spots,” her maid said. “But this powder might help hide them.”

  “No, Emily. It’s all right.” The powder would wear off quickly, and then she’d simply look blotchy as well as dotted with red spots. Her gown, a lovely tea-rose silk that draped perfectly over her body, did little to hide them.

  She grabbed a matching shawl to toss over her shoulders if people began to stare. “Well, perhaps a little powder on my nose.”

  Romulus was already at Lady Dayne’s home when Violet arrived. He was standing in the parlor beside his brother, both of them with a drink in hand. But he set his glass down on the tray of a passing servant and came over to her as soon as she’d been announced.

  “You look lovely.” He took her hand and bowed over it as any proper gentleman would. “I mean it, Violet.”

  He looked splendid, too. Quite daunting, for his shoulders were broad and his big body was quite magnificently outlined in his impeccably tailored formal attire. The black of his jacket brought out the gold of his hair and the jeweled green of his eyes.

  “I’m all spotted,” she said in a pained whisper.

  He gave her hand a light squeeze. “No one can tell under the glow of candlelight. We all look orange, don’t we?”

  She laughed. “I look orange. You look golden. But thank you for attempting to make me feel better. Truly, Romulus. You look so handsome.”

  Before he had the chance to respond, they heard the thuck, thuck, thuck of Lady Withnall’s walking stick against the polished wood floor as she entered the parlor and was announced. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, tucking her arm in his to keep her protectively close, “the wicked witch has arrived.”

  Despite the din in the room, for it was packed with guests, Lady Withnall came straight toward them. “Yes, the wicked witch is here and not about to relent.”

  “Bloody hell. You heard that? You do have the ears of a bat.” He frowned down at the diminutive dowager, making no attempt to apologize.

  Oh, dear. Why was he antagonizing her? Violet emitted a nervous titter. “Good evening, Lady Withnall.”

  “Good evening, Violet. Care to add to Captain Brayden’s comment?”

  Violet’s identical twin cousins, Dillie and Lily, often eeped when their nerves were on edge. Violet held back the urge to eep like a demented bird, but a few more high-pitched twitters escaped her lips. “Um…er… Lovely to see you, Lady Withnall.”

  “I’m sure it isn’t, but I appreciate your lying to me anyway.”

  Romulus covered Violet’s hand with his to calm her.

  Lady Withnall noticed the gesture at once. “Protecting Violet? From me? Don’t be a nodcock. I’m not going to bite her head off,” she snapped. “But I ought to do worse to you.”

  He groaned. “You are the wickedest, old bat who ever lived. Relentless, too.”

  “And you are an insufferable dolt. Come, give me a kiss on the cheek and tell me you are happy to see me.”

  Romulus did so, and the two of them chuckled as though they were the best of friends sharing a jest.

  Violet’s gaze shot from one to the other.

  Wait, what had she missed? Incredibly, Lady Withnall seemed not to have taken offense at the harsh remarks Romulus had tossed her way. Well, she must be used to hearing worse from her victims.

  “How have the pair of you been getting along?” she asked, piercing Romulus with her spear-like gaze. “Feeling leg-shackled yet, dear boy?”

  He arched an eyebrow. “No shackles. Only a bit rushed.”

  Lady Withnall pounded her cane again. “You got what you deserved, and you know it.”

  Violet tipped her chin up, determined to come to his defense. “You aren’t being fair to him. He–”

  “No, my dear. As I said, he is getting exactly what he deserves. I hope so are you.” With that, the old harridan walked away to strike fear in Lady Dayne’s other guests.

  Violet gasped. “What did she mean by that? Why would she say something so rude to me? What did I ever do to offend her?”

  Romulus stared at Lady Withnall for a long moment, then turned to Violet with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “She just complimented you…and me.”

  She followed his gaze. “She insulted us. Weren’t you listening?”

  He laughed and playfully tugged on her earlobe. “I was. You weren’t. She likes us, Violet. She’s giving us a hard time because she thinks we are perfectly suited for each other. This is her heavy-handed way of matchmaking. She also thinks I’m getting the better part of the bargain. She likes you best.”

  Violet shook her head. “You gleaned all that from trading insults with her?”

  “I did.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Well then, we may as well toss The Book of Love aside since Lady Withnall obviously has all the answers.”

  She expected him to respond with a glib remark, but he regarded her in all seriousness. “If anything, I am more determined for us to read through it. I heard what she was saying.”

  “Because you listened.”

  He nodded. “And you did not. You are angry, so you assumed the worst in her. So did I until now.”

  “So, this torture she is putting us through is her desire to have us find love?”

  “Yes, but is it torture for you? I don’t mind it nearly as much as I thought I would. Of course, we hardly know each other.” He frowned lightly. “To my shame, I probably would not have noticed you if you sat in the wallflower corner with your spectacles on and your hair done up in a tight bun. But those bees changed everything, didn’t they?”

  His expression eased, and he smiled at her. “I can’t look at you without low brain thoughts swimming into my head.”

  She eased out of his grasp, for people were starting to notice he had not released her yet. “My high brain thanks you. It liked the way you held onto me to protect me.”

  “No wolves will ever eat you while I’m about.”

  “Then thank you again,” she said with a laughing shake of her head. She was beginning to think perhaps Lady Withnall had the right of it, that she and Romulus might grow to like each other…perhaps love each other.

  Those thoughts were dashed a moment later when a stunning woman simply marched up to Romulus and greeted him with startling familiarity.

  “You wicked, wicked man,” she purred like a predatory feline. “Have you grown tired of me already?”

  She extended her elegant, gloved hand, and he dutifully bowed over it. “Lady Felicia, a pleasure to see you.”

  “I don’t know. You seem quite attentive to this…creature.”

  Violet arched an eyebrow. She’d never been referred to as a creature before.

  “Does she know how depraved you really are?” She cast Violet a dismissive glance. “Well? Aren’t you going to introduce her to me, Rom?”

  He did, but only after a telling moment of hesitation. “Lady Felicia is the widow of the Marquis of Herringdon.” He cleared his throat and went on to explain. “We are old friends.”

  “We are childhood friends,” Lady Felicia corrected, for she certainly wasn’t old. “And have always been very close friends.” She ran her hand lightly down Romulus’s chest and then glanced lower. “The closest of friends, I should hop
e.”

  Violet was the first to admit she knew nothing about men. But she wasn’t born yesterday. That glance followed by a lick of her lips was a not so subtle indication of their past relations. Indeed, it fairly screamed the intimacy of their past and likely current relations.

  “I’m thinking of having a party this weekend at Herringdon Hall. Just a few friends…doing the usual…like old times.”

  Romulus glanced at Violet. “Sorry, I am not available this weekend.”

  “Rom, darling. Don’t you dare grow boring, as I am afraid you shall if you insist on keeping such dull company.” Lady Felicia positioned herself between them, effectively cutting Violet out of their conversation. “Do join me this weekend at Herringdon. You are always such a comfort to me.”

  “I shall leave you to catch up with each other.” Violet had a dozen snide remarks on the tip of her tongue and ready to be hurled, but why engage the haughty woman? It would serve no purpose.

  If Romulus wanted to continue his relations with the widow, that was his privilege. But it would not bode well for their current betrothal…secret betrothal. Indeed, she would never marry him if he thought so little of her as to continue to comfort Lady Felicia.

  Romulus frowned at her.

  Perhaps it was more of a look of frustration. Violet wasn’t blind to their obvious past together, for Lady Felicia was quite proprietary about him. The widow’s gloves surely hid some very sharp claws.

  Violet was about to walk away, but Romulus took her gently by the arm. “Stay, Miss Farthingale. It is only harmless reminiscing.”

  She studied the woman, noting her golden hair and crystal, blue eyes shaped like those of a cat. This widow was used to getting her way in all things. Her beauty alone would have men tripping over their feet to indulge her every whim. She moved in the highest circles, and if the diamonds around her throat was any indication, she had been left quite wealthy by her husband after he’d cocked up his toes.