Lord Runthorne's Dilemma: A Regency Romance

by Steele, Sarah-Jane

  He trod quietly across the carpet and flicked the periodical from Lady Delphine’s hand. Then he took her by the arm and levered her not inconsiderable weight to her feet and steered her to the door. “Out.”

  “Well I never.” Lady Delphine’s indignant cry cut off as he shut the door in her face and turned the key. He turned back to Aurelia who had risen to her feet, her mouth open in shock.

  “What has come over you, Runthorne, I have never seen you behave so uncivilly before.”

  He clicked his fingers and pointed at the chair. “Sit.”

  Aurelia sat.

  “Now, madam, am I to assume that you are still determined to hold me to our betrothal?”

  Aurelia flinched at his harsh tone but nodded. “Yes.”

  She was not a coward, he would give her that. “Very well, madam, I shall apply for a special licence. We will be married at the end of the week.”

  Now Aurelia had a decided resemblance to a stunned fish. “But that’s impossible,” she stammered. “I cannot get my gown ready by then and how are we to inform our guests? We will not get back to London in less than two days. No, no, Runthorne, you must see that it is impossible.”

  “Have you quite finished, madam?” He walked away, and leaned against the fireplace. He pretended fascination with the toe of his boot.

  “There is no need for concern,” he continued without giving her the courtesy of looking at her. “We will marry here, the church is quite adequate. You have no need of a new gown, the one you have on is serviceable or, if you prefer you can wear something else you have. Your wardrobe seems quite extensive.

  “Miss Granger can attend you as you seem to have made a friend of her. I will have Charles of course. Your parents, Miss Hampton and Captain and Mrs Maybourne will be sufficient guests. You will have to pack all your belongings soon as we will leave straight after the ceremony.”

  “For a bridal trip,” Aurelia said, although it sounded more of a question.

  “No.” He glanced up and felt like a monster as he saw the hope fade in her eyes, but he persisted. “We will go straight to Cragburn House.”

  “Cragburn House?”

  “It is my childhood home. I have an affection for it and would like my children to grow up there.”

  “But what about Runthorne House? I am certain that would be a more fitting residence for a marquess.”

  He ignored the beseeching note in her voice. “That will be my principal residence. You will live at Cragburn to look after your children. I shall, of course, make visits to Cragburn as the need arises.”

  He smiled. “Do not think you will have nothing to amuse you, Aurelia. Cragburn is just a few hours from Berwick upon Tweed. I daresay you will visit there at least once a month. In the summer, at least.”

  “But that’s in the north.” There was no disguising the horror in Aurelia’s voice.

  “Indeed. I admire your knowledge of geography. Cragburn has lacked a mistress for many years. It will take some time for you to put it in order, but I am sure you will find the activity amusing.”

  “How about your London house?” There was still a thread of hope in Aurelia’s voice.

  He quashed it. “That will remain let out. I foresee no need to remove from my rooms, whilst I am in Town.”

  “But I cannot live in bachelor rooms and how will we entertain?”

  Runthorne laughed. “My dear, you are not listening to me. You will not be living in my rooms,” he said. “And I assure you, your presence would be decidedly de trop at the type of entertainment I will be giving.”

  “I do not understand.” Aurelia’s hand was at her throat and her voice was faint.

  “It is quite simple, Aurelia.” He spoke slowly, as though he considered her an idiot. “You are determined to be my wife. Very well. Your one concern will be filling my nursery. I have no intention of raising any cuckoos in my nest so you will go to Cragburn House and remain there until I say otherwise. The Housekeeper and her husband will keep you company and I have no doubt that their daughter will be competent to act as your maid when I am not in residence.”

  “But my maid?”

  He raised his brow. “You will have no need of a London trained lady’s maid. Life will be extremely simple.”

  From the narrowing of her eyes, he thought he may have gone too far.

  “So,” she said, after a long pause. “You are proposing to imprison me in your house where my only activity will be breeding children?” She laughed. He heard relief in her voice.

  “Oh, my dear Runthorne, I am not a fool. You just want me to break the betrothal so you can be with your Miss Hampton.” Her eyes narrowed. “Your precious Miss Hampton, who Mother tells me is rumoured to be a certain Alice Turner’s true mother.”

  He tasted something sour in his mouth. He stalked towards Aurelia, deliberately menacing. He placed one hand on the chair either side of her head trapping her. Then he leaned in close.

  “If I hear you repeat that lie ever again I swear I will do more than imprison you, Aurelia. And do not think for one moment that, as your husband, I could not do what I wish.”

  “But you will not.” Her eyes said she was not as certain as she sounded.

  “Are you willing to wager your future on that?”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Elizabeth turned abruptly and her skirts swished around her ankles. She paced back across her bedroom carpet. Her lip was sore from where she had bitten it, but she could not stop. Now Charles and Mary were reconciled she had no distraction herself from her own predicament.

  Admit it, her conscience murmured. You love him.

  Elizabeth reached the window and turned. No, she could not deny that.

  But does he love you? She thought so. Pulling at the ribbons on her bodice she continued to pace.

  But what about Miss Lacey? She might be with child.

  Aunt Edina had no reason to mislead her over what Lady Delphine had said and for Lady Delphine to lie about her own daughter was unthinkable.

  That, of course, was the problem.

  No. Elizabeth forced herself to stop. She let the mangled ribbons fall and took a deep breath. They had been united in their rescue of Mary and Charles, but that had been an idyll, a holiday from responsibility. Now it was time to return to reality.

  There was no problem. There was no choice.

  If Miss Lacey was to have James’ child she had to marry him before that occurred. Even if she was not, they had anticipated their vows and James was honour bound to marry her.

  That Elizabeth loved him was irrelevant. She closed her eyes. She must stop thinking of him as ‘James’. He was, and could only ever be, ‘Lord Runthorne’.

  Elizabeth took a deep breath and relaxed her shoulders. She had to speak to Miss Lacey.

  Glancing at her little clock Elizabeth tried to think where she might be. It was too late to be in the gardens but too early to start dressing for dinner. Miss Lacey was unlikely to be in the library but she might be in one of the parlours.

  Elizabeth strode towards the stairs. Her quarry seemed to have developed a fondness for the Blue parlour, so she would try there first. She probably liked it because the wall hangings intensified the colour of her eyes Elizabeth thought then berated herself for her lack of charity.

  She took a deep breath and pushed open the door. It moved silently and Elizabeth stopped. Miss Lacey sat, slumped, an expression of abject misery on her face. A periodical lay discarded at her feet. Seeing her sitting there like that, Elizabeth felt overwhelmed with guilt. It was apparent Miss Lacey felt more for James then she had admitted. Seeing his defection to Elizabeth must have hurt her more deeply than either of them had realised.

  “Miss Lacey?”

  Miss Lacey straightened, the sadness on her face disappeared, wiped away by a mask of pride. “What do you want?”

  Elizabeth forced herself not to bristle at her rudeness. “I came to apologise, Miss Lacey.”

  The younger girl stood and walked tow
ards the long windows. “I am sure I do not know what you are talking about.”

  “I have caused you pain. It was never my intention.” Elizabeth gestured, hopelessly. “Lord Runthorne will never marry me, you know,” she added.

  “No,” Miss Lacey turned to face Elizabeth, but with her back to the window, her face was cast in shade, her expression hidden. “No, he will not, he will marry me.”

  “As he should.”

  “And he will make the rest of my life a living hell,” she continued as though Elizabeth had not spoken.

  Elizabeth shook her head. Miss Lacey was obviously more overset than she had realised. “He is a good man, he will not harm you.”

  “You must love him a great deal.”

  “That is irrelevant.”

  Miss Lacey nodded, as though Elizabeth had confirmed something. “Because of the child?”

  Elizabeth gasped. So it was true. However, she had not expected Miss Lacey to be so brazen about her condition. “Yes,” she admitted after a moment.

  “I have shocked you.” It was a statement rather than a question.

  “A little,” Elizabeth admitted. “I know because Aunt Edina told me. She thought I should know, but I had not expected you to declare it so openly.”

  Miss Lacey tilted her head. “I do not understand you,” she said, after a moment. “What exactly did Mrs Maybourne say?”

  Elizabeth hesitated. “Why, that you and Lord Runthorne had been intimate,’ she said, at last. “That there is a possibility that you could be expecting his child.”

  Miss Lacey gave a strange choking noise and stumbled slightly. Elizabeth rushed to the girl’s side. “I am so sorry. I should not have spoken so blatantly. I know ladies in your condition are easily upset.”

  Miss Lacey shook off Elizabeth’s solicitous hand. “I do not know what you are talking about.” She sounded angry. “You must be mad. Or your aunt is.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “My aunt is perfectly sane, thank you Miss Lacey. She merely told me what your mother told her.”

  “My mother?” Miss Lacey’s laugh was harsh. “Do you dare stand there and tell me to my face that my mother told such an unconscionable lie.”

  “But you told me yourself.” Elizabeth was feeling decidedly confused now.

  “I did no such thing.”

  “Just now, when you agreed that Lord Runthorne would never marry me because of the child. Your child.”

  “No, your child. Alice Turner. Mother told me all about her.”

  Elizabeth turned and sat down quickly. “I see,” she said, softly. She did not know what to think. “Does Lord Runthorne know what Lady Delphine said?”

  “Of course,” Miss Lacey said. “I told him myself.”

  The malice in her voice decided Elizabeth. “It is a lie, you know.”

  Miss Lacey shrugged but would not meet Elizabeth’s gaze. “What if it is? So is what your aunt told you, but you accepted it.”

  “My aunt has no reason to lie.”

  “Neither has my mother.” Miss Lacey paced, her hurried steps lacking in her usual grace. “She would never tell such a lie about me.”

  “I did not think she would either, but she does want you to marry Lord Runthorne very much.”

  “Not enough to ruin my reputation.”

  Elizabeth thought she heard a note of uncertainty in her voice. “But she has not has she?” Elizabeth leaned forward allowing her certainty to shine through in her voice.

  “She told my aunt, who is normally the soul of discretion. I think she trusted Aunt Edina to tell me, to ensure that I would avoid Lord Runthorne. She must know I would never pass on that rumour. I know what it is like to be shunned by Society.”

  “You think my mother made up such a horrible thing just to make sure that you were not a threat to my marrying Runthorne,” Miss Lacey said. “My, you do rate your charms highly.”

  Elizabeth shrugged. She was beyond caring what Miss Lacey thought. “Yes, I believe your mother would do that, if she thought it would ensure you married Lord Runthorne,” she said. “She had no scruples about lying about Alice.”

  She rose and walked to the door. There she paused and spoke over her shoulder. “I do not understand why she wants you to marry him so much. I am certain you cannot be lacking in suitors. However, I do know she would do anything to ensure that you become the Marchioness of Runthorne. Perhaps you should think about that.”

  ***

  Clods of earth flew from beneath the horse’s hooves and Runthorne bent low over his mount’s neck. The horse’s mane whipped his face.

  He should have been happy, exhilarated. After all Aurelia had given every sign that she was regretting her betrothal to him. It was just a matter of time before she broke it, he was sure, and then he would be free.

  The horse obeyed his subtle orders and increased its pace. He gritted his teeth. He could still hear Aurelia’s spiteful words “Miss Hampton is Alice Turner’s true mother.” He did not believe it. Lady Delphine had lied to her daughter.

  He urged the horse on towards a high hedge. He knew it could not be true. Lady Delphine had shown over and over that she was not to be trusted. He felt the horse’s muscles bunch and shift.

  And yet.

  The horse surged beneath him and suddenly they were flying, the hedge passing below them. The horse landed with a thud and Runthorne drew it to a standstill.

  Aurelia’s words continued to haunt him. He turned them over in his mind and wondered. He nudged the horse into a slow walk, allowing the beast to cool.

  “Elizabeth is Alice Turner’s true mother.” There was a superficial similarity in feature, he supposed, but the same could be said for many. Elizabeth did seem to hold Alice in affection. But she seemed to care for all the children. She was merely showing her maternal side to an orphan child.

  Still the words nagged at him. It was no secret that Elizabeth had been seriously ill a little over five years before.

  It was possible.

  He amused himself for a moment imagining that Aurelia’s words were actually true and smiled. Then he shook his head puzzled by his own ambivalence. The thought of Elizabeth with a child was strangely alluring and his heart clenched. He wanted her to have his child. The horse snorted and turned towards home.

  Runthorne made no move to stop his mount, allowing it its head. He could not believe that he was actually imagining that Elizabeth was Alice’s mother. Everything he knew about Elizabeth conflicted with that idea. But he had known Elizabeth seven years ago. What did he really know about her now?

  He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Even more bizarre was the thought that he did not care if she was Alice’s mother. He still loved her. If it pleased Elizabeth he would adopt Alice as his own and he would snap his fingers at his stiff necked ancestors and their conception of duty to the Name.

  He had a sudden feeling of liberation and tightened the reins. The horse tossed its head but obeyed his commands, lifting its hooves into a trot and then a canter.

  He had to speak to Elizabeth.

  By the time he swung into the stable yard he was smiling at the thought of Alice at her Presentation. She would be the flower of her Season, he decided and there would be no more doting father, nor would there be one more vigilant than the Marquess of Runthorne.

  He barely felt the flags beneath his feet as he ran up the wide steps to the front door. He paused for a moment in the entrance hall, his sun dazzled eyes becoming accustomed to the dimmer light inside. Then he turned instinctively towards the library. He did not know why he knew he would find Elizabeth there, but he did.

  She was standing by the window, a large book open on the table before her. Sunlight gilded her brown hair, turning the tiny curls at the nape of her neck to a warm gold. He smiled.

  “Elizabeth,” he said.

  She looked up at him and his smile faltered. For a moment her expression was anxious, uncertain. Then she masked it with a smile.

  “Lord Runthorne.” His name was a questi
on on her lips.

  “Are we back to that, sweet Elizabeth?” He trod across the carpet, intending to take her in his arms, but she side-stepped him neatly. “I have just been speaking to Miss Lacey,” she said.

  He smiled, relieved. Now he understood her hesitancy. “My darling,” he said, “I promised you that I would be free and I will be.”

  Elizabeth placed her finger in the book marking her place. “I am not sure you will have any choice.”

  “Why do you say that?” He took a step towards her and she retreated. “I doubt, after what I said to her, that she will hold me to our betrothal.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I do not know what you said to her but I know what she said to you.” She lifted her chin. Her eyes held a mixture of defiance and uncertainty.

  She was going to walk out of his life again, he knew. In that moment he thought he understood. For once Lady Delphine must have spoken the truth. Elizabeth was Alice’s mother and her pride would not allow her to marry him.

  His heart filled as he thought of her pain and he crossed the distance between them and took her in a tight embrace. She stood rigid in the circle of his arms.

  “I, also, know what she said to me, Elizabeth, and I do not care.” He bent his head and kissed her, urgently. Showing her with every iota of his being how much he loved her.

  She resisted him at first, her hands pressed against his chest. He deepened the kiss, ruthlessly stripping her defences and her lips softened under his. He would not let her escape him now.

  Slowly she began to respond, kissing him back, melting against him. He felt a thrill of conquest, knowing in that moment that she was his, just as he was hers.

  He broke the kiss and gazed deep into her eyes, eyes that were dark with desire.

  “I love you, Elizabeth,” he said. “I do not care what people say. And if the price for having you as my wife is to have Alice as my daughter, then that is a price I will pay gladly, a thousand times over.”

  Slowly her eyes returned to their normal shade of brown. “What did you say?”

  She took a step back and he released her, knowing that, somehow he had miscalculated.