“Robert, how cruel and uncaring you can be. I did not raise you to be so callus. These are delightful people and hospitality requires that you honor them while they are our guests.”
“You made this mess—you clean it up.”
“Then I shall make it clear they are to leave tomorrow.”
“Early.”
“If you wish. But you will, of course, host them at dinner this evening?”
Robert grumbled but nodded. “Yes, if I must.”
Amelia came over and patted his shoulder. “I knew you would understand.” He started to turn to leave, but she stopped him and added, “Miss Charlene is most charming, and I am quite certain you will find her to be most sympathetic.”
“Huh…” Then he turned again and left.
* * *
Robert went directly from Amelia’s rooms to the library to work on ideas for his new novel. However, he was surprised to find the Daniels family sitting by the fire having tea.
“Oh…” he exclaimed, frozen as they looked over at his entrance.
“Lord Donnelly, how nice to see you,” Sir Benjamin said as he stood to greet Robert.
Robert felt his private space had been violated, as this is where he did his writing. But, of course, this was the estate’s library and his guests should expect to have access to such a splendid public room.
“Sir Benjamin. Lady Daniels. Miss Charlene,” Robert said curtly, as he nodded to each one to acknowledge their presence.
Lady Daniels turned in her chair to face Robert and said, “Lord Donnelly, won’t you sit with us? The tea is still fresh.”
“Thank you, no. I have been away for a number of days and many issues require my attention.”
“But we so missed seeing you when we arrived. Your charming sister assured us we would have time to visit with you on your return.”
Robert knew, as the host, he must spend at least a little time with them. He had hoped that his attendance at dinner would be sufficient, but there was no way he could work at his desk with them in the room so he decided to sit with them for a short time.
“Very well, one cup of tea and then I must dash off.”
He went over to the seating area by the fireplace where the family was having tea. He sat on a small sofa next to Charlene—the only free place to sit.
Miss Charlene was indeed a charming and fresh looking young lady. She was slender and shy, her head bowed and her eyes lowered as Robert sat down beside her. She looked quite charming in her modest, delicate dress. Her blond hair was skillfully arranged in braids around her head, and when she spoke, it was softly.
“Do you ride, Miss Charlene,” Robert asked, trying to open an agreeable conversation.
“She is a most accomplished rider,” Sir Benjamin spoke up.
Lady Daniels scowled at her husband and whispered. “Let her speak for herself, Benji.”
Charlene looked up and responded to Robert’s question. “I enjoy riding very much. I have done quite well in a number of junior gymkhanas.”
“How splendid.”
“With your spacious grounds you must enjoy riding very much,” Charlene added.
“I find it refreshing. I spend a great deal of time at my desk and it helps to get out and ride the borders of the estate from time to time. I need to make sure all is in order, you understand.”
“Perhaps the two of you might enjoy a ride together later this afternoon,” Lady Daniels suggested with a broad smile.
“I am afraid that will not be possible. I have many duties to attend to. However, I can certainly make a horse available to you and can provide a groom to ride with you if you like.”
That seemed to dampen the hopeful conversation, and Charlene replied, “Thank you my Lord, but I noticed there are clouds and a breeze gathering and I think I shall decline your kind offer.”
“As you wish,” Robert replied not caring one way or another.
However, upon examination, Robert had to admit that this young woman was attractive and he decided to sound her out on a few issues important to him.
“Miss Charlene, tell me do you read novels?” he asked.
“Oh, no. They are far too unsuitable for me. However, I do enjoy reading The Reverend Timothy Broadbent’s fine series of sermons. Are you familiar with his high-minded works?”
“I am not. My tastes do not run toward the ecclesiastical, I must say. Give me a rousing adventure novel or a tale of mystery and intrigue any day and I am quite content to spend many happy hours in front of the fire lost in my imagination.”
Miss Charlene gave a little gasp, and quickly shut her mouth and looked away. No doubt shocked by Robert’s secular tastes in literature.
Now Robert smelled blood and pounced again. “And do you enjoy travel?” he baited.
“Oh yes, we have been to the seaside at Margate several times. I love paddling in the sea and exploring the beautiful churches and chapels. It’s a lovely place.”
“Well, I must say, one of my favorite places is Marrakesh in Morocco. The splash of colors in the spice market. The crush of peasants, tribesmen, beggars, and townsfolk surging through the souk is quite exhilarating. The wail of exotic music… the wafting scents of cooking meats… the cry of muezzins from the minarets. It is quite beyond description and totally absorbing. Have you been?”
The whole family seemed to be profoundly shocked.
“We would never consider going to a country of heathens and scoundrels,” Lady Daniels huffed in profound dismay.
“What a shame. There is nothing like being a foreigner in a country where you do not know the language and must adapt to another culture to truly widen one’s life perspective.”
“We are quite content being who we are. We have no need to accommodate ourselves to the lowly and hideous culture of those who do not speak English and are not upright Christians,” Charlene said in her most outraged and forceful voice.
Robert took the last sip from his teacup and stood, nodding to each as he said, “Most enlightening. However, I must excuse myself, and I am sad to say I shall be unavailable during the rest of your stay. But I am certain my sister will make the rest of your visit most enjoyable.”
* * *
Before leaving the library after the dreadful tea, Robert took a few papers from his desk and retired to his own rooms where he had another desk he sometimes used when writing and did not wish to be disturbed.
He studied the list of surrogate author candidates Sir Cecil had given him. Two were crossed off, leaving three.
All the rest were located outside of London. One was in Nottingham. One was in a small town in Devon and one was nearby in Cambridge. Robert was desperate to get away from Balfour for the rest of the afternoon in hopes of avoiding running into the Daniels family again, so he decided to take a ride into Cambridge and visit the Cambridge author, Miss Diana Browning.
Browning? That name rang a bell. Browning of Cambridge. Yes. There was a professor at St. John’s College. Something Browning… John Browning? No. Carl Browning? George Browning. Yes, that was the name. He had attended lectures in English lit from the fellow. Might he and the author be related? he wondered.
He had no intention of telling Amelia that he was fleeing for the afternoon and evening. She would discover for herself that he was gone and she would be forced to entertain the atrocious guests all by herself.
Robert went to the stable, had his horse readied, and set out for Cambridge. It was late March and blustery in the early afternoon when he set out.
He had no difficulty finding the house of the author as it was on a familiar street that he remembered from his college days.
He stabled his horse at a nearby inn and went to the house and knocked. There was no answer. He saw that there was an attached gallery that was open and he went there to enquire about Diana Browning.
“Good afternoon,” he said as he entered the gallery.
“Oh, hello. Do not mind me. Just look around and if you see anything you like just le
t me know and I will be happy to help you.”
Robert looked around the quaint shop. The paintings were pleasant but commercial and obviously targeted at the tourist trade and students wishing to furnish their rooms cheaply.
“Thank you, but I am trying to locate a Diana Browning. I believe she lives in the attached house. Might you know of her whereabouts?”
“Oh, Diana… she’s my daughter. Did you knock?”
“I did but there was no answer.”
“Oh, she is probably wrapped up in her writing and either did not hear you or ignored you.” Ann laughed. “So sorry about that. If you give me just a moment I will go and see if I can find her. Might I say who is calling for her?”
“The Earl of Donnelly.”
“Oh, my…”
“I am here on a matter of business.”
“Then I shall see if I can find her for you.”
Ann put the back in five minutes sign on the door and bade him follow her. She led the way into the house and ushered Robert to the best sitting-room.
“I’ll go search for her,” she said, leaving Robert alone.
Presently, she returned. “She will be right with you. Just as I thought, totally caught up in her writing.”
“I understand,” Robert answered.
Ann stood by, not wanting to leave Robert alone.
“Good afternoon,” Diana said as she came into the room. “Mother says you wished to see me?”
“Yes. I am Robert Donnelly,” he said offering his hand.
“The Earl of Donnelly?” Diana asked.
“Yes.”
Diana curtsied briefly. “Please have a seat. Might you enjoy some tea?”
“Not for me, just yet. Thank you.”
Diana turned to her mother. “Thank you, Mother.”
Ann left and Diana went to sit opposite Robert.
“And how may I assist you, my Lord?” she asked.
“Let me first ask, is George Browning of St. John’s related to you in any way?”
“Yes. He is my father. Do you know him?”
“I attended some of his lectures when I was a student at the university.”
“I shall ask him if he remembers you.”
“Please give him my best regards.”
“I shall.”
“Now then, down to business. I have come with a proposition for you.”
As Robert explained his offer to Diana he could not help but admire her gentle and attractive demeanor. Her delicate yet determined features appealed to him and he was surprised at how easy he found it was conversing with her. How different from that dreadful family he left behind at Balfour.
When he was finished outlining his proposal he paused to give her time to consider his offer.
Diana then said, “That is a most interesting situation in which you find yourself. I can completely understand the ambiguity of your position. And I agree, it does seem to be a ridiculous constraint that you cannot publish under your own name.”
“But alas, it is not just my problem. It seems Hancock and Puntley would also suffer if they published my book with my name on it.”
Diana laughed. “You are in the House of Lords, why cannot you put through a bill or something to outlaw such an egregious unfairness?”
Robert followed her laugh with his. “Well, firstly the Lords does not originate bills. That is done in the Commons. All the Lords can do is offer a yea or a nay after a vigorous debate. So, it is quite unlikely that my dilemma will disappear any time soon.”
“Such is the way of the world.”
“And what do you think about my offer? Is it something you can consider?”
“I am thinking about it. But why choose me? Have you read my books? Do you think we are a good fit?”
“I have not, but I should like to. Actually, it was Sir Cecil who suggested I contact you.”
“I see. But do you not think it important that your work match mine in some manner? After all, my readers would be wildly suspicious if your writing was too different from mine.”
“I have considered that, and might propose a forward in my book suggesting you had decided to go in a new direction with your writing.”
“Yes, that might work.”
“Then you will agree to the proposal?”
“Perhaps. I certainly do need the additional income. And you assure me I could continue with my work—but under a different name?”
“Sir Cecil assures me you can do that and he will make a concerted effort to make it a successful transition.”
“And that being said, may I offer you some tea now? Or would you rather go for a walk? There is a quite lovely meadow nearby.”
“How about a walk and then some tea? I should like to know more about your books.”
“By all means let us walk. I find that writing all day, I need to get out and stretch my legs most afternoons.” They both stood. “Then just let me fetch my shawl and I shall be right with you.”
* * *
Having crossed over the stile into the meadow, Robert turned and offered his hand to Diana who deftly climbed up and then down the steps.
She looked up directly into Robert’s eyes and felt a shiver go down her spine. This man was so dashingly handsome. She felt a catch in her breath and a tingle along her arm as he let go of her hand as they were now ready to walk.
Robert turned and examined the meadow. “I used to come here often to walk when I was a student at St. John’s. However, I entered from the other end which was closer to the college.”
Diana smiled shyly and said, “Then we already have something in common.”
“We do indeed,” he answered smiling.
He offered Diana his arm, which she took.
“Now, then tell me about your books,” he said. “All Sir Cecil would tell me was that they were romances. But that is such a general term, it is difficult to get much understanding from that term alone.”
The grass was wet from an earlier shower and with her free hand, Diana lifted her skirts slightly to avoid them getting soaked.
“Yes, romance is a very general term. My stories are character based with the individuals who are faced with impediments to their union but with some humor and, of course, a happy ending once the obstacles are overcome. Not very exciting to a gentleman, perhaps, but my readers seem to enjoy my modest tales.”
Robert nodded. “My book is also a romance, but it is interwoven with a tale of travel and adventure—more pleasing to men than to women, perhaps.”
Diana took exception to his observation. “Not at all. Ladies enjoy a good adventurous story as well as men—if it is well told, of course—and perhaps not too violent.”
“And I believe my story is well told and pleasing to the average reader. But what about your readers?” Do you think they might enjoy such a tale?”
“It might surprise them at first, but I believe they would.”
“My goal is to expand beyond your current readership and build a larger following with the wider scope of my story.”
“Yes. I understand.”
They walked on in silence until they came to the far side of the meadow.
“Shall we return?” Robert asked.
“I think that wise. My shoes are getting a little wet.”
“Oh, I am sorry,” he said with some concern. “You should have warned me. We could have returned sooner.”
“No, it is fine. I get wet feet all the time. I walk so often I am quite accustomed to it.”
They turned and began walking back.
“Please enlighten me a little more about the exact arrangement you wish to make with me,” Diana said.
“Oh, I have not been clear, have I?”
“You sketched out what you wanted, but you have not been specific on what you are offering.”
“How negligent of me. Only thinking about myself again, I am afraid. I am scolded about my self-centeredness from my sister incessantly.”
“I shall forgive you,” Diana
said looking at Robert and smiling.
“I was thinking of offering you one thousand pounds up front and fifty percent of my share of the royalties on the sales of the book thereafter. Does that sound equitable?”
Diana was shocked. It was a large sum that might go a long way toward solving the family’s financial problem. And fifty percent of the royalties seemed very generous. That would be in addition to her own royalties—however, she would still need to reach her readers under a different name. But Robert assured her Sir Cecil would be able to help with that.
Diaries of a Heartbroken Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Collection Page 62