Lord Runthorne's Dilemma: A Regency Romance

by Steele, Sarah-Jane

“I am sorry, James,” she whispered.

  “I know.”

  The song bird fell silent and Elizabeth felt as though her heart would break.

  Again.

  She shook her head. “And yet, you are still betrothed to her,” she said, after a moment. “She will not release you. Lady Delphine would never permit it.”

  He cradled her face again and leaned his forehead against hers. He was so close she could see each individual lash around his eyes. There was the faint dusting of freckles across his nose that she remembered so well and fine care lines that she had not seen before. Her heart ached for every one of them.

  “You said you loved me then, Elizabeth. Tell me, honestly, do you still?”

  “You know I do.”

  She felt his lips smile and saw the sorrow fade a little from his eyes. “Yes, I do,” he said, “but I needed to hear you say it.” He stroked her temples tenderly. “Listen to me, now, my darling Elizabeth, I swear to you that I will find a way. We will be together.”

  Then his lips touched hers and her heart sang.

  ***

  It took all of Elizabeth’s willpower to drag herself away from him. It seemed as though they had spoken for hours, yet the sun had barely moved in the clear summer sky.

  “Elizabeth,” he said, still holding her hand. “Please trust me, everything will come out well.”

  Elizabeth touched her free fingers to her lips. “I know, James.”

  They would be together.

  She hummed under her breath as she mounted the spiral stairs and entered the corridor leading to her room.

  “Whatever are you doing?” Simpson, her arms crossed, blocked Elizabeth’s way. “You should be in your room.”

  “I am going there now,” Elizabeth said.

  “You should never have left. Does not the Good Book tell us to honour our Father and Mother and do not the Captain and Mrs Maybourne stand in place of them? May they Rest In Peace. Whatever will I say if you should fall ill again?”

  Elizabeth laughed. “You do not have to tell them.”

  Simpson sucked in a shocked breath. “Well, I have never heard such wickedness. How could you suggest I keep a secret from my mistress? May the Lord forgive you. What has come over you?”

  “Simpson, I just needed to walk a little,” Elizabeth said, taking pity on the irate maid. “I have been caged in that room for too long.”

  “Well, it is time you were back there.”

  “Unfortunately, you are blocking my path.”

  The maid bristled. She opened and closed her mouth, apparently searching for something to say then she stood aside. “I shall speak to your aunt,” Simpson said.

  Elizabeth smiled. Nothing worried her now. She felt invincible, confident in his love.

  The bedroom door swung open at her touch.

  “Well, madam, what do you think you are playing at?”

  “Lady Delphine,” she said.

  “Is that all you can say?” Lady Delphine rose, magnificently, from the armchair by the window. “I am shocked by your disgraceful behaviour, Elizabeth Hampton.”

  Elizabeth breathed deeply. “What brought you here, Lady Delphine?”

  “I came to see how you were,” Lady Delphine said. “I stayed when I overheard your pretty assignation with Lord Runthorne. I have never been so disgusted in my life. Do I have to remind you that he is betrothed to my daughter?”

  Elizabeth lifted her chin. “I should like you to leave.”

  “Oh no, my girl, I am not going to leave until I have given you a piece of my mind. There is a name for women like you.”

  “And what, exactly, would that be?”

  “I am sure I am too much of a lady to say it.”

  “I love him and he loves me.”

  Blood rose alarmingly in Lady Delphine’s face. “You stupid girl, what has that to say to anything. He is to marry Aurelia.”

  “Miss Lacey cares nothing for Lord Runthorne, she told me so herself.”

  Lady Delphine laughed and sank back into the chair. “Elizabeth, Elizabeth, Elizabeth, please do not be so naïve. Nobody marries for love. Not if they have any sense.” Her mouth twisted. “Aurelia is a sensible girl and understands how the world works. Unlike you.

  “Marriage is for connections, consolidating wealth and land, for getting heirs.

  “Those who want love,” again there was a strange twist of her lips, “search outside the marriage. Now you just be a good girl and marry Captain Fitzalan. It will save us all a great deal of trouble in the end.” She rose to her feet, the conversation at an end.

  Now Elizabeth gasped. “Please let me be clear about this, Lady Delphine,” she said. “You are determined to marry your daughter to Lord Runthorne when you know for a fact that she does not love him any more than he loves her”

  “Finally, you are beginning to understand.”

  “Lady Delphine,” Elizabeth said, choosing her words with care, “it pains me to say this, for you are a guest in my aunt’s house, but I think there is a name for women like you, too.”

  Lady Delphine pushed past Elizabeth to the bedroom door. “Think what you like,” she said over one broad shoulder, “but understand this, Elizabeth Hampton, the Marquess of Runthorne will marry my daughter or I will ensure that his reputation, and yours, is ruined beyond repair.”

  “I am sure his reputation will survive anything you can throw at it.”

  “But will yours?”

  “I have done nothing to be ashamed of.”

  Now Lady Delphine’s smile was malicious. “I understand you are very fond of a child in the town. Alice, I think her name is. Around five years old, I believe.”

  “What has that to say to anything?”

  “Why, I understand you were extremely ill five years ago? If that were to be widely known some people, nasty, malicious people, might think there was a connection.”

  Elizabeth felt a little dizzy. “What are you saying? There is no connection.”

  “That is such a relief. I am sure everybody will accept your word when you argue so vehemently.” Lady Delphine patted Elizabeth’s shoulder. “Leave Runthorne alone and I know that such a nasty, untruthful rumour need never see the light of day.”

  Lady Delphine opened the door and paused. “Poor Elizabeth, you are a little pale, perhaps you should lie down. I will leave you to rest.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “You appear to be in good spirits this evening, my lord.” Manton laid three freshly starched cravats on the dressing table.

  Runthorne realised he was whistling. It was a reprehensible habit, but he did not much care.

  “I am indeed, Manton,” he said and took the first cravat. “Something simple, I think. The trone d’amour seems appropriate.” He smiled at his reflection. He passed the cloth around his neck and creased it carefully before finishing it off with a flourish.

  “Perfect.”

  The dinner bell rang and Manton eased his coat over his shoulders.

  “Will there be anything else, my lord.”

  Runthorne’s smile broadened, Elizabeth would be there tonight, he was sure. He had not seen her since the terrace and could hardly contain his eagerness.

  “No, nothing, thank you, Manton.”

  They would have to be discreet, he knew, until he had made everything right with Aurelia, but he could not stop the spring in his step as he descended the stairs, nor did he bother to suppress the thrill of anticipation he felt at the thought of seeing Elizabeth again.

  He imagined how she would look when he saw her. A little confused, perhaps, shy from the scale of their reignited emotions. Or she might be teasing, flirtatious. That was the wonder of Elizabeth. She never failed to surprise him. With a guilty start, he realised he was whistling again and he pasted a neutral expression on his face before opening the drawing room door.

  “Thank you so much for a delightful afternoon, Mr Compton,” Aurelia was saying as he entered the room. “You were so kind to suggest a gentle rid
e. It has quite raised my spirits.” A delicate flush made her cheeks glow.

  “You have caught the sun, Aurelia,” Lady Delphine interrupted. “You will get freckles. I have some Gowland’s Lotion that you will apply before retiring.”

  “I think Miss Lacey has a delightful complexion,” Mr Compton said and blushed.

  Runthorne turned away from this affecting little scene and glanced around the room. Miss Granger stood at a window studiously ignoring Charles, who looked miserable and even Mrs Maybourne seemed upset about something. Only Captain Maybourne and Mr Lacey appeared unconcerned by the strained atmosphere in the room.

  Then he saw Elizabeth, sitting alone in a darkened corner of the room and everyone else faded into the background. She was pale but when he smiled at her a light flush gave her cheeks the appearance of health. She did not return his smile however. Instead she turned her face away.

  Runthorne took a step towards her.

  “I would like a word if you please, my lord.”

  He stopped.

  “Mrs Maybourne.” He bowed. “How may I serve you?”

  She took his arm and steered him away from Elizabeth. “I would take it as an inestimable kindness if you would leave my niece in peace.” She frowned up at him as they took a turn around the room. “She has suffered greatly and is very vulnerable at this time. I am sure you mean no harm, but I fear harm is done nonetheless.”

  “Mrs Maybourne, I understand your concern for Elizabeth and I honour you for it, but I would never hurt her.”

  She stopped and gave him a long, thoughtful gaze. “I am sure you speak the truth, but you are not free to give that assurance, are you?”

  Looking into her anxious eyes, Runthorne was not angered by Mrs Maybourne’s interference. She spoke out of concern for Elizabeth, something that he understood too well. Nevertheless, he would not allow her to dictate his actions.

  “I assure you, madam, you need not fear for Elizabeth.” He inclined his head, preparing to leave, but she stopped him.

  “My lord, I know that you are not able to give me that promise, not if you are the true gentleman you seem. Now, I do not wish to cause you pain, but Elizabeth does not wish you to approach her again.”

  “Forgive me, Mrs Maybourne,” he said through tight lips, “but I would hear that from Elizabeth herself.” He disengaged his arm and, with a bow, left her.

  “My love, what is worrying you,” he said, a moment later, sitting next to Elizabeth.

  She spread her fan wide, holding it in both hands, her head bent as though examining it for imperfections. Then she closed it with a snap. “We should not be speaking, my lord.”

  “Should we not?” He raised a brow. “Perhaps we should communicate in dumb show.” He placed his finger to his lips and looked with exaggerated care over his shoulder, before pressing his hand to his heart and rolling his eyes. She did not laugh. “Now that is not like my Elizabeth,” he said.

  “Please, my lord, I am not your Elizabeth.”

  “Not yet, perhaps, but soon, I swear.” He touched her wrist. “And I thought we had agreed that it is ‘James’, not ‘my lord’.”

  Elizabeth turned away, ignoring his last comment. She gazed out across the room. “It has been suggested that it would be better, for all concerned, if you forgot your oath.”

  “How could it be better? No, Elizabeth, I love you and I will not lose you again.”

  “No matter what?” She turned back and her eyes were fierce, glaring into his. “No matter what people said or what lies they spread?”

  “No matter,” he said, quietly, trying to show all his sincerity and love in his voice, as he could not kiss her.

  “I vow to you, Elizabeth, that I will make myself free and I will do so honourably, without hurting Aurelia.”

  She sighed, her shoulders relaxing as though they had born a great weight. “Then I am content,” she said. “Now go, my lord. We have spoken too long.”

  “‘Discretion is the better part of valour’,” he said, his lips twitching in amusement. He stood and bowed over her hand, his squeezing hers in gentle promise. He turned away, still feeling the lightly returned pressure of her fingers.

  ***

  Dinner passed in a blur. Later, as the ladies waited for the gentlemen to join them in the drawing room, Elizabeth could not say what soup she had drunk or what sweet she had eaten. Indeed she would have been lying if she said she remembered consuming anything at all.

  Despite his assurances Lord Runthorne had darted warm glances at her all through the meal. Looks and smiles that she had found far too distracting. Nor could she fail to sense her aunt’s disapproval.

  Miss Lacey took a seat at the pianoforte without waiting to be asked and the tea tray was brought in. The drawing room clock chimed. It was a delicate sound barely heard above the sound of Miss Lacey’s desultory playing. Ten o’ clock. It was early, but not so early that Elizabeth could not make her excuses and leave. In truth, she still felt weak after her illness, and did not think anybody would find it strange that she sought her bed.

  She rose quietly to her feet and moved towards the door.

  “Elizabeth, come sit with me for a moment.” Aunt Edina patted the seat next to her. Elizabeth sighed, for she really was weary, but she smiled and nodded and took the seat.

  “What do you wish, Aunt,” she said. “I was about to retire.”

  “I know, my dear, you are still very pale, but I think I must speak to you on a matter of some delicacy.” Aunt Edina paused and plaited the fringe of her shawl.

  “What is it, Aunt?” Her aunt seemed so worried that she was a little alarmed.

  “I spoke to Lord Runthorne earlier,” Aunt Edina said. “Forgive me, my dear, but I wanted to warn him against approaching you again.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “But why?"

  “I am sorry, my dear, but I felt I had to. Not that it did any good.” Aunt Edina continued to mangle her shawl. Then she clutched Elizabeth’s hand so hard her knuckles whitened. “My dearest, I am so sorry.”

  “Do not worry so, dear aunt. I am afraid that he does not take kindly to being told what to do.” Elizabeth smiled a small smile. “I fear that your interference merely made him more determined. But you must not worry so. He has sworn to me that he will be free. I know that he will respect that vow and do so honourably. I have to believe in him.”

  “You cannot trust him.”

  Elizabeth disentangled her fingers. “If I had done so seven years ago, we would not be having this conversation now.”

  “Perhaps you were right to turn away from marriage to him when you did. I do not think you could be happy with such a man.”

  Elizabeth gritted her teeth. “Aunt Edina, I love you dearly and you have been nothing but good to me, but if you continue to speak ill of Lord Runthorne, then we will have a falling out.”

  “Please, Elizabeth, do not speak so.” There were tears in Aunt Edina’s eyes.

  “How can I speak in any other way?” Her shoulders drooped. “I am sorry, dearest aunt, but you warn Lord Runthorne away from me and tell me I cannot trust him, yet you offer me no reason for your words.”

  She took her aunt’s hand again. “Please, if you have any suspicions you must share them with me.” She waited, certain that she could counter anything her aunt said.

  Aunt Edina was silent for a moment, her brow furrowed in thought. “Something has been said to me in confidence,” she said, slowly. “It is something which I hesitate to share with you.”

  Elizabeth nodded, for the first time feeling a shred of alarm. Her aunt was an open woman, who did not like to keep secrets, yet she would never betray a confidence unless it was truly necessary.

  “I promise that whatever was said will remain with me,” she said.

  “Oh, I know that, my love, it is just that I do not want to cause you any pain.” Her aunt’s shawl slid from her shoulder when she gave a resigned shrug. “Yet I believe by telling you, you will be spared greater hurt.” She to
ok a deep breath, as though steeling herself.

  “Lady Delphine,” she spoke the name with distaste, “came to me earlier this afternoon,” she said, in a rush. “I am sure I do not know why I invited that woman to my house. I find that I have never liked her. I cannot think how I came to forget that.”

  “Aunt Edina, you are prevaricating,” Elizabeth said.

  Aunt Edina sighed and nodded. “I am sorry, my dear. Lady Delphine was most agitated and abusive, saying that she should never have brought her daughter here.”

  Elizabeth opened her mouth in indignation.

  “No, listen,” Aunt Edina said, holding up her hand to forestall her, “she had every right to speak so, although I am sure that little of the fault was mine. After all, it is not as though they had adjacent rooms.”

  “Who do you mean?”

  “Why Lord Runthorne and Miss Lacey, of course.”

  “Aunt Edina, I am truly sorry, but I am afraid that I do not know what you are talking about.”

  Aunt Edina’s mouth worked as though the words were forcing themselves out. “Elizabeth, you are unmarried, and it is not right to speak of such things, but you are old enough to know that there are things that happen privately between a man and his wife.” Her colour heightened and she would not meet Elizabeth’s eyes.

  Elizabeth said nothing, waiting.

  “Well,” Aunt Edina said on a deep breath, “I do not need to go into that now. Suffice it to say that the Marquess of Runthorne and Miss Lacey, according to Lady Delphine, have ah…” she lowered her voice further so that Elizabeth had to lean in closely to hear, “anticipated their vows.”

  Elizabeth reared back. There was a ringing in her ears. “I am not sure I quite understand,” she said.

  “Please, do not make me spell it out, Elizabeth. Lord Runthorne and Miss Lacey have behaved as only a husband and wife should and, consequently, they must marry.”

  “Nonsense.” Elizabeth hoped she did not sound as hollow as she felt.

  “I am sorry, but I cannot believe that any mother would lie about such a thing. Why would Lady Delphine say it, if she did not think it herself?”

  “Maybe it was Miss Lacey who lied.”

  “And ruin her reputation? No, my dear, I have to accept that he is not the man you thought.” Aunt Edina appeared truly distressed but Elizabeth did not have any sympathy for her, not at that moment.