Lord Runthorne's Dilemma: A Regency Romance

by Steele, Sarah-Jane

  Her friend’s eyes were anxious, searching, as though she feared Elizabeth would storm off. “She is also vain and a little silly,” Elizabeth said.

  And you were never vain or silly, were you? Her conscience really was most trying at times.

  “Perhaps you are right, a little, my love.” Elizabeth held up her hand. “Oh, I could never lay claim to her beauty, but I must admit that I can see much of who I was in her.”

  Then something struck her. “How do you know that Miss Lacey is so wealthy?” she said.

  Mary smiled and blushed. Again. “Charles, I mean Captain Fitzalan, told me,” she said and almost ran away.

  “He is in the large parlour,” Elizabeth called after her and watched as she changed direction. Her hand rose in thanks. Elizabeth shook her head and continued on to her room to change, but could not suppress a small smile. Somehow, things did not seem quite as black as they had a few moments ago.

  ***

  The sun was low in the sky, but still streamed through Elizabeth’s bedroom window. She clasped a single strand of pearls around her neck and smoothed her gown. There was still an hour before the dressing bell would ring, but Elizabeth had dressed early.

  Her riding habit still lay across a chair waiting to be sponged and put away when one of the busy maids had a moment. She picked up the edge of the long skirt. It was grey with dust but, with so many guests, Elizabeth knew it might well be some days before a maid had leisure to attend to her needs. For a moment she considered ringing for a bowl of water and dealing with it herself. Then she grimaced. She was dithering.

  Elizabeth needed to speak to her aunt and it would not get easier with delay.

  Before she could change her mind, Elizabeth draped a shawl over her elbows and opened her door. The corridor was quiet. Most of the ladies would still be in the parlour or drawing room gossiping, whilst the men would be hiding in the billiard room or outside until forced to dress for dinner.

  Elizabeth turned to her left, accompanied by the soft swish of her gown. The rich scent of wax polish, warmed by the sun, tickled her nose. It made her want to sneeze. It was a homely scent and it soothed her, giving her courage.

  It took just a few moments for Elizabeth to reach her destination. She knocked on her aunt’s door, which opened almost at once.

  “Yes?”

  Elizabeth smiled but received no response. “I would like to see my aunt, Simpson. Please tell her I am here.”

  The lady’s maid sniffed. “I am afraid she is indisposed,” she said and made to shut the door.

  Elizabeth put out her hand. “She was in perfect health when I saw her this morning.”

  Simpson glared. “Nevertheless.”

  “If my aunt is unwell, I am sure she would wish to see me,” Elizabeth said, stepping forward, forcing the maid to step back.

  “I am sure Mrs Maybourne does not wish to be disturbed.”

  “Shall we ask her?” Elizabeth was now in her aunt’s sitting room. The door to the right, leading to the bedchamber, was a little ajar and she could hear her aunt’s voice. Suddenly her aunt giggled. It was a youthful and naughty giggle. There was also a very masculine chuckle. Elizabeth blushed and glanced at the maid who was giving her a satisfied smile.

  “Perhaps I should come back later,” Elizabeth said.

  “As you say, Miss.” Simpson opened the door to allow Elizabeth to exit, but before Elizabeth could move the bedchamber door opened wider. Aunt Edina stood there, in nothing but a translucent shift. Captain Maybourne stood just behind his wife but, seeing Elizabeth, darted out of sight with greater speed than Elizabeth would have credited him with.

  Aunt Edina coloured and took the shawl passed by the now hidden Captain.

  “Oh, Elizabeth, I did not know you were here.” She stepped into the sitting room and frowned at her lady’s maid. “Simpson, you should have told me.”

  “If you recall, ma’am,” the maid said, her hands folded at her waist, “you said you did not wish to be disturbed.”

  “You may go. My niece will help me dress for dinner.” Elizabeth had never heard her aunt speak so coldly before. “Sanctimonious prig,” she added, almost too softly for Elizabeth to hear, as the maid shut the door behind her with a snap. “I cannot imagine why I tolerate her.”

  “Because she is an excellent lady’s maid and thoroughly devoted to you?”

  Aunt Edina smiled. “Well, perhaps there is something in what you say.”

  Silence fell. Aunt Edina fiddled with the fringe on her shawl. Elizabeth studiously admired the view from the window, without really seeing it.

  “Aunt Edina.”

  “Elizabeth.”

  They spoke at the same time. Then they both laughed.

  “Allow me,” Elizabeth said, picking up the corset laid across a chair. Aunt Edina removed her shawl and Elizabeth began to help her dress.

  “What did you wish to say, Aunt,” Elizabeth said after a moment, relieved that she had a slight reprieve. Her relief was short lived.

  “I am concerned, Elizabeth,” her aunt said. “You must forgive me, but for all your years, I am still responsible for you and I fear I have not done well by you.”

  “Oh, Aunt Edina, you have been all that is good to me. If you had not given me a home, where would I have gone?” Elizabeth shook her head, threading the corset lace tightly. She picked up Aunt Edina’s gown and slipped it over her head. “You have nothing to be concerned about.”

  “But I do, my dear.” Aunt Edina turned and took Elizabeth’s hand. “You are not happy, Elizabeth. I am sorry I did not see it sooner, perhaps I should not have been so,” she waved her fingers vaguely, “absorbed,” she said, finally.

  “Best of aunts,” Elizabeth said, “you have been married the grand total of seven months. I would be most surprised if you had attention for anything other than Captain Maybourne. Now keep still so I can do your buttons.”

  Aunt Edina was, Elizabeth thought, extremely pretty when she blushed, almost like a young girl in her first thrill of love. But then, she reminded herself, Aunt Edina was her mother’s youngest sister, a mere eleven years older than Elizabeth herself.

  “But you are not happy, are you, Elizabeth?”

  Aunt Edina was tenacious at times. Elizabeth sighed, but this was what she had come to see her aunt about. She concentrated on the buttons for a moment, choosing her words with care.

  “It is not that I am unhappy, exactly,” she said. “It is just that I am in an extremely awkward situation.” She looked at her aunt from beneath her lashes. “I think, if you do not mind too much, I should leave your home for a time.”

  “But why?”

  “Did my mother write to tell you why I had to leave Society,” Elizabeth said, instead of answering.

  “Only that you had disgraced yourself.” Aunt Edina fingered through her jewellery box until she found the ring she wanted. “I did not wish to enquire further. Then, when she died so suddenly,” Aunt Edina said, “it didn’t seem to matter anymore. Not with everything else.”

  Elizabeth nodded, understandingly. At that time her aunt had been in deep mourning for her first husband and had already cut herself off from Society. Aunt Edina had been blessed that her marriage had been a loving one and it had taken many years for her to work her way out of her grief. It had been a small miracle when Captain Maybourne had brought a smile back to her eyes.

  Of all people, her aunt would understand.

  Elizabeth picked up a hair brush and began to stroke it through her aunt’s soft hair.

  “I had been out a few weeks when I met the most marvellous gentleman. He was all that a girl might dream of. Handsome, kind, funny,” Elizabeth paused and smiled at her memories. “It was a wonderful time. How could I help myself? I loved him so much I thought my heart would break.

  “Then he said he loved me. I was so happy.”

  “Oh, my dear, was he terribly unsuitable?” Aunt Edina’s eyes were wide with distress.

  Elizabeth shook her
head. “On the contrary, my dear aunt, he was more than eligible. Mother could hardly wait to rush me down the aisle. Oh, you know what she was like.”

  Her hands shook and she took a deep breath. “It was going to be the wedding of the year. Do you know how much silk she ordered? I declare she could have outfitted the entire army in furbelows. She was as excited as if it were her own wedding.”

  “Forgive me, Elizabeth, but I do not understand. You loved him, he loved you. You say he was a suitable husband for you. Whatever went wrong?”

  Elizabeth put down the brush and began to pin her aunt’s hair. “Ah, well, in every story there has to be a villain.” Even after all these years, Elizabeth felt tears spring to her eyes at the memory. She blinked them away. “Someone I respected and cared for, decided to disenchant me. I do not know why, but I can suspect.”

  She paused and turned a pin in her fingers. “This friend had always been disapproving of the match. She dropped hints that I tried to ignore but then, one day, she stopped hinting. She told me outright, and she was most kind about it, that he was marrying me for my money.”

  Elizabeth jabbed the pin through a curl. Aunt Edina winced. “I am sorry,” Elizabeth said, relaxing her hands. She curled a tress around her finger before gently pinning it.

  “Why did you trust this friend?”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “She was most convincing. She told me everyone knew his estate was mortgaged to the hilt and he needed my portion to bring it back from the brink. She said that I was the object of some amusement, wearing my heart on my sleeve.”

  Elizabeth teased some strands to frame her aunt’s face. “I should not have been surprised I suppose, after all I am no great beauty, but I admit I was. I was actually vain enough to think my betrothed really loved me and that he would have married me if I were penniless.”

  She gave a short laugh. “I was not only vain but incredibly stupid.”

  “I suppose you felt you could not marry him?” Aunt Edina’s voice was kind, understanding.

  “How could I? I loved him so much that it would have been torture to be with him every day, knowing he cared that,” Elizabeth snapped her fingers, “for me.”

  “So you broke the betrothal?” Aunt Edina sighed. “That is sad, of course, but it happens more than people think.”

  “Oh, I did more than that.” Elizabeth fastened her aunt’s necklace. “I jilted him on our wedding day.”

  “Oh my. You do like to make a statement, Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth bit her lip to stop her involuntary giggle. “I understand the Prince of Wales was most unimpressed.”

  Aunt Edina twisted and touched Elizabeth’s cheek. “Ah, I see that remaining in Society would have been problematic after that.” Her smile was wry and now Elizabeth could not suppress a slight chuckle.

  “That is putting it rather mildly,” she said. “Mother wanted to tell everyone that I had fallen ill, that the wedding would still take place. Father threatened to cut me off if I did not marry.”

  She shook her head. “I did not think he would actually do that, yet here I am. Perhaps he would have relented when the disgrace passed but…” Elizabeth shrugged, hoping the hurt she still felt did not sound in her voice.

  Her father had followed his wife into the grave within months of the scandal. If he had intended to reverse his decision, he had not found the time and her brother, who had inherited the large estate, had not felt obliged to redress the situation.

  Aunt Edina pulled Elizabeth’s head down to her shoulder. “Your parents were proud people,” she said. “I expect that they did not think you would stand up to them. It must have come as something of a shock when you did.”

  Elizabeth sniffed.

  “I do know your parents loved you,” Aunt Edina said.

  “They had a strange way of showing it.”

  To Elizabeth’s relief Aunt Edina said nothing, but just held her as Elizabeth cried out her loss. Finally Elizabeth hiccupped to a stop.

  “Better now?” Aunt Edina handed Elizabeth a handkerchief which she took with a grateful nod.

  “Good. Now is there anything else that is bothering you? I cannot imagine that this confession has come out of nothing.”

  “No.” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “The man I jilted was Lord Runthorne.”

  Aunt Edina blinked.

  “The Marquess of Runthorne,” Elizabeth said, as though her aunt might have thought she meant anyone else. “Of course, he was simple Sir James then.”

  “I see.” Aunt Edina frowned. “I can see that the situation is very awkward.” Now she considered Elizabeth, her eyes penetrating. “Especially as you are still very much in love with him.”

  Elizabeth’s face felt as though it was on fire and she opened her mouth to deny it. Then she caught her aunt’s eye. “What shall I do,” she said, instead.

  Aunt Edina sighed. “My poor Elizabeth,” she said. “There is nothing you can do. He is engaged to Miss Lacey.”

  “I know.”

  “You must be careful, Elizabeth. Lady Delphine tells me that Lord Runthorne has been far too attentive to a number of ladies recently. Not a few hearts have been damaged. I should hate for yours to be added to that list.”

  Elizabeth stiffened. “I do not believe it,” she said.

  Aunt Edina raised her brows. “What do you think he has been doing with you, Elizabeth? I am not blind.” She sighed, her eyes sad. “You are too transparent, my love, your heart is written all over your face. I do not think you should run away, but please, for your own peace of mind, you must make him think you do not care for him. You owe it to yourself and you owe it to Miss Lacey. Lady Delphine tells me that she is very hurt.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes blurred again. “I do not think I would trust Lady Delphine if she told me I had a nose on my face,” she said. “Lady Delphine was the friend who so kindly told me that Lord Runthorne was marrying me for my money.”

  Elizabeth lifted her chin. “However,” she said, pleased that her voice did not shake, “you may reassure Lady Delphine that I have no interest in the Marquess of Runthorne.” She forced a calm smile. “Do excuse me, Aunt Edina, I must leave you now, but please believe me when I say that I wish them nothing but happiness.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “May I have your attention, everyone?” Aurelia clapped her hands and the general conversation died.

  Breakfast was over, but it was still early enough that most of the guests had not yet dispersed to their various amusements. Runthorne set his cup down and gave her his full attention. Next to him Mr Lacey rustled his newspaper.

  “Many of you may be aware that, a few nights ago, Mrs Maybourne suggested it might be amusing to arrange some theatricals.” Aurelia beamed. “She has asked me to concoct a little play.”

  “Gosh, what a brilliant idea,” Mr Compton said.

  Runthorne frowned. “What the devil is he doing here? The man is haunting the place.”

  Next to him, Mr Lacey simple grunted and buried his head further into his newspaper.

  Aurelia shuffled the sheaf of paper in her hands. “Now, I hope you will all help me in this endeavour. I have roles for all of you. Rehearsals shall start in an hour at the folly. That will give you all sufficient time to read over your parts.”

  There was no arguing with that tone of voice.

  Lady Delphine smiled. “My dear Aurelia is so clever,” she said in a loud, yet conspiratorial voice. “She is always creating diversions like this.”

  Aurelia handed out some pages and Runthorne settled back in his chair, watching. She was quite ruthless with the other guests. Aurelia, like her mother, tended to get what she wanted.

  “I shall play the princess, of course,” Aurelia said. She circled the table to stand by his side. “Lord Runthorne shall play the prince.”

  He pushed back his chair. On this point Aurelia would have to be disappointed. “My regrets, my dear, but I have a prior engagement.”

  Aurelia laughed. “No date for the
performance has been set.”

  “Nevertheless, you must excuse me.” He bowed and turned away.

  “Well really, Runthorne, you are being most unobliging.” Aurelia stamped her foot.

  “My deepest apologies,” he said, making his escape.

  “As Lord Runthorne is proving so ungallant,” she said, “perhaps I might prevail upon you, Mr Compton, to step into the breach.”

  Runthorne closed the door behind him cutting off Mr Compton’s courteous reply. He was conscious of a faint twinge of pity for the younger man but pushed it away. Mr Compton was an adult and if he chose to make an idiot of himself, that was his own concern.

  He strode along the corridor. The day was fine so Charles could already be outside, but he rather thought he would find his friend inside. The library was a decided possibility, given Charles’ unfashionable preoccupation with literature but some instinct directed is steps towards the billiard room.

  He was rewarded by the sight of the door slightly ajar and the murmur of voices.

  Runthorne pushed open the door. Had the gentleman been anyone other than Charles and had anyone else opened the door, the scene that met his eyes would have been enough to carry the participants to the nearest altar.

  Miss Granger was bent over the billiard table. The mace usually favoured by ladies lay discarded on a side table, its place taken in her small hands by the far more masculine billiard cue. Charles had his arm around her, guiding her hands on the stick. Oblivious to Runthorne’s presence, he murmured encouraging words into Miss Granger’s ear, helping her slide the cue smoothly through her fingers.

  There was a satisfying crack of ivory on ivory and the red ball shot along the table.

  Runthorne clapped. Miss Granger shot upright, her head connecting with Charles’ square jaw.

  “Ouch!”

  “Oh,” Miss Granger gasped, swaying a little. Charles reached out to steady her with one hand, the other nursing his chin.

  “Runthorne,” he growled, “you know better than to distract a player.” Charles rubbed under his ear and the look he shot him was far less mild than his words. He guided Miss Granger to a seat with unloverlike haste, before turning his attention back to Runthorne. “What do you want?”