A Broken Heart's Redemption: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Abby Ayles

  “And they were there alone? Not even the servants were home. Lord Jones even lied about her being there at first,” Lucy continued. She was not sure whether to drop a heavier hint or just say it outright to Antoinette. Was it right? Was it even necessary? “He said nobody was home, and when I heard her moving around he said it was a maid.”

  “Well, there is nothing wrong with that,” Antoinette replied. “Perhaps they were talking about something private. The two of them need to discuss what happened, and to find some sort of closure before they can move on with their lives.”

  “I am not sure 'closure' is what I would call what I saw,” Lucy replied.

  Antoinette raised an eyebrow and seemed a little excited at the sound of gossip. “What did you see?”

  Well, it was too late now. She had begun to tell Antoinette, so she had to finish. And besides, what did it matter if others would call her a gossip, or Clara would be angry? Antoinette was her friend, and friends came before society.

  “He was kissing her,” Lucy replied. “He lied to me about her being there, and I caught him kissing her, and then he begged for my forgiveness.”

  “That is,” Antoinette paused and looked into her wine, as though trying to find the right words, “unexpected.”

  Lucy nodded. “I'll say. Especially after everything he said about her.”

  “And everything she kept saying about moving on,” Antoinette continued. “I suppose it is one of those cases where the more someone talks about something, the guiltier they are of it.”

  “Is that true?” Lucy asked.

  “What?” Antoinette responded.

  Lucy paused. “Is it true that the more you talk about something, the guiltier you are of it, even if you speak badly of it?”

  Antoinette shrugged. “In their case it seems to be. Though... It'd be best not to say anything to anyone else.”

  “How come?” Lucy asked, baffled and slightly annoyed that Antoinette was telling her what to do. “They are the ones that did it. Why should it be my fault if I tell others what I saw? If they hadn't wanted anyone to know about it, they should never have done it in the first place.”

  “It is not worth ruining three lives over, Lucy,” Antoinette insisted in a low voice. “They will not have another chance. Hopefully they will seek to redeem themselves.”

  “But what if they continue to try it? Does Edmund not deserve to know? What if Lord Jones chose to marry? Would his wife not deserve to know?” Lucy insisted.

  Antoinette shook her head. “People do bad things. What they have done so far may be very innocent. No worse than yourself or I have done. If they continue to do it when they are married that is another matter entirely. But why would you ruin someone's entire marriage over a few seconds of poor judgement?”

  “I suppose you are right,” Lucy replied. “I saw nothing else.”

  “And God has a way of making these things right if they do not redeem themselves,” Antoinette added.

  “What if I am God's way of making thing's right?” Lucy said slightly spitefully.

  “No, you are just angry at them for being hypocrites. It helps nobody, Lucy, let it go,” Antoinette insisted.

  Lucy pursed her lips and glared down the table. “Very well. I shall trust your judgement.”

  She still felt slightly bitterly towards Clara, but Antoinette was right. Who would she help by telling others what she had seen?

  “I'm going to find my husband,” Antoinette said, slightly exasperated. “You wait for me here and I will be right back.”

  Lucy watched as Antoinette walked out into the hallway. She carried on sipping her wine, wondering if her mother would be angry that they were not sitting together, or too distracted socializing to notice. She also wondered whether her mother realized how hurtful she had been, or even cared. Perhaps she was wallowing in guilt this very moment. Perhaps she thought she had done Lucy a favour...

  A hand landed on her shoulder. Thinking it was Antoinette, Lucy turned around from the waist, smiling and getting ready to start talking again. But it was not Antoinette. A pretty blonde woman smiled down at her.

  Lucy nearly jumped out of her skin. “Clara?” she asked. “How... surprising.”

  “Lucy... we need to talk,” Clara said. Lucy then noticed the tension and nervousness in Clara's smile, and the beads of sweat on her forehead. “In private, if we can.”

  Lucy was not sure about this. But she was also dying of curiosity to see what Clara might say about the situation. She nodded, stood up, and followed Clara out of the room, down the hallway, and into a little empty room that looked as though it had at one time been a cloakroom.

  “What is it you need to say?” Lucy asked. She was trying not to sound too curious, but she knew it was obvious. Then again, what did it matter? It was clear Clara needed to get this off her chest.

  “I just wanted to apologize for what you saw,” Clara said nervously. “For what we did. I got carried away. It was never supposed to happen.”

  “I should say,” Lucy replied. “You and he are no longer engaged. What would Edmund think?”

  “That's precisely it,” Clara said, “he can never find out.”

  Lucy scowled. “I am not sure if it is the right thing, to keep this from him,” she said. Regardless of what she had told Antoinette, Clara did not know she was not going to tell anyone. And she got a little bit of satisfaction from tormenting her.

  “I know that you love Andrew, but there are better ways of handling this,” Clara insisted.

  Lucy shook her head. “You do not understand, I am not interested in him. I shall become a nun by next year.”

  “But you do love him,” Clara replied. “Just because you cannot have him does not mean you do not love him. It's plain to everyone.”

  “Is it?” Lucy asked.

  “It is. And that is precisely why you cannot tell a soul. They will just think you are being jealous of him,” Clara said.

  Lucy could see what Clara was doing. She could see that she was just trying to get Lucy to back down by threatening her with humiliation.

  “I swear, I shall not tell a soul,” Lucy reassured her.

  “Oh thank you,” Clara said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I knew I could trust in you. You will not regret this. It is better for everyone this way.”

  Lucy nodded. “Of course it is.”

  Clara wrapped her arms around Lucy in a spontaneous embrace. “You are a wonderful person, Lucy. Now, let us return to lunch.”

  Lucy nodded again in agreement and followed Clara. She had nothing else to say. Clara's transparent attempt at manipulating her had made her angrier than before. But it didn't change anything in reality. Clara being mean did not change Lucy's agreement with Antoinette, or the situation for the three people whose lives would be ruined should Lucy say what she had seen.

  Although her heart was breaking in two, she knew nothing could be gained by bringing it out into the open.

  “What did happen in there?” Lucy asked softly as they approached the dining room.

  Clara paused. “Oh, you know men,” she said, shrugging. “They do not know what they are doing most of the time.”

  “I'm sorry about all the trouble,” Lucy said.

  “I'm sorry you had to see that.” Clara shook her head. “It was not right. It will never happen again.” She pulled the door open and they both began to walk back towards the table.

  Lucy nodded. “You still love him also, it is understandable. I suppose I ought to apologize to Andrew for storming out,” she said, looking around.

  “Oh, he's not here. He stayed back at his house,” Clara replied.

  “Did he have anything to do?” Lucy asked.

  Clara shrugged. “I do not think so. I think he was just a little alarmed by all that happened this afternoon, and needed a break.”

  Lucy was a little surprised. “Why not? If it was all a misunderstanding, then—”

  “It's not a misunderstanding,” Clara interrupted and a
hoarse whisper. “What you saw was what was happening. He and I still love one another very much. And just because we cannot be together does not mean we have stopped loving. I am sure you of all people understand that. Now, let us not speak of this in public.”

  Lucy nodded. Still, something felt wrong. Besides the fact that Andrew and Clara were seeing one another behind Edmund's back. Besides Clara's attempts at manipulation. Something was quite simply, purely, wrong. She could not put her finger on it, but the whole situation was a mess.

  Looking over to her seat, Lucy saw Antoinette and Duke Perry had returned. But before she could walk over she felt Clara tug insistently on her sleeve.

  “Come, let us sit with your mother a while. She seems to want you back with her,” Clara said.

  Looking over to where Clara had been seated, Lucy saw an empty seat either side of Edmund. To the other side of one of the empty seats were Lord and Lady Fitz. Lady Fitzgerald's eyes were fixed on her daughter somewhat apologetically. Lucy looked from Antoinette to her mother. She wanted to sit with Antoinette. But Antoinette would be understanding if she sat with her family. Whereas her mother would take it as a personal insult should she sit with Antoinette.

  She nodded and made her way over to the seats, smiling to her mother to reassure her that no offence had been taken.

  Sitting between her father and Edmund, Lucy felt pangs of guilt. How could she let Clara continue to lie to this good young man? But would he not be more hurt to discover the lie?

  Antoinette had said that so long as nobody found out and they did not repeat their indecency, nobody had been hurt. But Clara had just confessed she was still in love with Lord Jones. And it was quite likely he was still in love with her too. If they had not been able to keep apart for a few months, would Clara really be able to abstain for the rest of her life?

  It was quite likely that they would repeat their indecency. They would do it again before the wedding, that was for sure. And once Clara was married... would they do it then also? Lucy already knew that Lord Jones had no respect for marriage, so would he respect Clara and Edmund's vows? It was bound to fall apart eventually.

  It was too much. Perhaps if she confessed it herself, the weight would be off her chest? And yet she could not bring herself to. She could not tell anyone, not even a member of the clergy. What if the pastor who listened to her confession was the same one to conduct Clara and Edmund's wedding? What if he advised her to tell Edmund? Lucy was not sure she could handle the burden of correcting her own sins.

  Some nun she would make.

  She watched Clara and Edmund talking and laughing together. If all marriages were just political shams anyway, then she would fix nothing by telling anyone. And if they were not, she would break Edmund's heart. She would never get Andrew either way. What was the point?

  Chapter 27

  She could not stay for all of dinner. She was just feeling sick. How could Clara sit there and laugh and talk sweetly with Edmund, when barely two hours ago she had been in Lord Jones's arms? When she had admitted she still loved and desired the man she had once been engaged to marry? When she would almost certainly repeat her behaviour?

  All Lucy wanted was to tell Edmund. To let him know that Clara was being dishonest and disloyal. But how could she? She had no place ruining three lives. And she did not even know Edmund. Perhaps he was the sort of man who married for status and power, and did not care about what she did so long as she furthered his interests?

  Lucy could not just sit and watch the charade take place, whatever the case. Apologizing, she stood up and left the room. They could sit and laugh and pretend all was well in the world. She would have no part in it.

  She made her way towards the gardens. It would be a much more pleasant thing to do than stay inside. Perhaps a little fresh air would do her some good, too. And maybe there would still be a few flowers which had not yet perished.

  But as she neared the conservatory doors, she felt a tug on her wrist. Clara had caught up with her and was holding onto her, refusing to let go. “Let's go back to lunch,” she said.

  Lucy shook her head. “I feel ill. I would much rather walk outside a while.”

  “You really should not,” Clara insisted. “Things happen out there that you would rather not see. Stay with us and talk.” There was a slight desperation in Clara's voice, a slight tension in the hand which gripped Lucy's wrist.

  Lucy pulled her wrist free. “Just let me be,” she said. “I have had enough of you, and Lord Jones, and everyone who is in any way like you. You sicken me. Now, if you excuse me, I shall go for a walk in peace.”

  She marched through the conservatory and out into the top of the garden. The cool fresh air hit her and she felt instantly more alive. The sun was shining lightly through the thick clouds, in long golden strands reaching from heaven to earth, as though it were just another type of rain.

  A few flowers must still have been strong, as with the damp rainwater their scent had been driven up into the air and the garden smelled so romantically sweet, Lucy felt almost lost in it. This was what she needed to help her relax.

  Looking down over the garden, Lucy then realized what Clara had not wanted her to see. Lord Andrew Jones was there. And he was not alone. He was walking beside a lady. Lucy wondered who it could possibly be, especially considering that Clara was still behind her, up and indoors. She began to slowly step down the garden, wanting to get just close enough to see, but not so close as to draw attention to herself.

  She needn't have been so careful. The two were completely lost in conversation, speaking quietly and gently to one another, laughing a little here and there. Then Lucy caught a glimpse of the woman's face. It was Princess Elisaveta. She had her hand on Lord Jones's arm as they walked and talked in the garden, surrounded by the last flowers of summer, bathed in rays of sunlight.

  Lucy tried to calm herself down. They were friends. It meant nothing. After all, what would a princess want with a Baron? Even a European princess was much closer to a Duchess than anything resembling Lord Jones, or even Lucy herself. She smiled and nodded to herself. They were just two friends going on a walk together.

  But the laughter bothered her. There was an intimate, almost conspiratorial quality to it. And those whispering voices... Lucy needed to know what they were saying. What was so funny, so secret, so exciting. She was about to interrupt them and join the conversation, stepping a little closer, opening her mouth to call out to them.

  Then Lord Jones kissed Princess Elisaveta on the cheek. The Princess kissed his cheek back. It was nothing big. Nothing overt. Nothing sensual. But it made Lucy boil with rage. She had loved this man. She had respected him. And he had turned out to be the very sort of man she despised, the sort of man she had once assumed Duke Perry to be. But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was that she still loved and respected the man she thought he was.

  She yearned for him, for the Lord Jones that did not exist, that had never existed. She wanted to be by his side, to taste his lips, to talk to him about all that was wrong with the world. And she could not. Because he was what was wrong with the world.

  Lucy turned around on her heels and, as swiftly and silently as she had crept out and down the garden, she crept back into the conservatory, shutting the door behind her. Clara Neal was waiting there for her. Lucy made eye contact with Clara, glared at her to make sure she knew she was not welcome, then stomped her feet on the mat to loosen any dirt. Clara shrugged. Lucy began to make her way past Clara to get back to the dining room, pushing Clara's shoulder with her own as she tried to get out. Clara did not move.

  “I told you that you would not want to see that,” Clara said, shaking her head.

  “Well I have now,” Lucy replied.

  “This is part of the reason why I could not marry him, Lucy. He was away in India so much... I just knew that he would be laying with other women while he was out there. It is just what men do when left to their own devices. And now we have our proof. A princess t
oo, lucky sod.” Clara walked over to the conservatory window, brushing shoulders harshly with Lucy. “I bet he'll reconsider his angle on marriage now, won't he? Now he has a chance of becoming royalty. By association, of course. But nevertheless, she is a worthy wife.”

  Lucy shook her head. “He's committed to never marrying.”

  “Or maybe committed to never marrying you?” Clara asked. “He was going to marry me. He was only against marriage because he had not recovered. But there's nothing like status to make a man recover from rejection. You were just not good enough.”

  “Clara, do not continue talking of such unpleasant matters,” Lucy warned.

  “But I'm right, am I not? Come to think of it, isn't this the second time you've lost a man to status? Duke Perry was engaged to you before the Duchy, to Duchess Antoinette after. Makes you think, does it not? How many more men will play the same mean tricks on you?” Clara continued.

  Lucy felt her anger rising and rising. She did not blame Duke Perry. She had moved beyond that. And she was not going to sit there and let someone say all men would turn against her. Of course not all men were two-faced, wicked, womanising beasts. It just so happened that this one was. Of all the men she had suspected, all the men she had turned down, one had turned out to be what she feared. And it just so happened he was the one she had put her faith in.

  “It's a good thing you're becoming a nun, really,” Clara mused, moving away from the window and walking back up to Lucy. “I don't really think any man would take you for who you are. I mean... with how you look, and that attitude, what self-respecting man would want you? You're basically a man yourself. Or a brute, pure and simple.”

  Lucy growled. So Clara thought she was masculine, did she? Clara thought she was a brute? Very well, she shall be a brute.

  Lifting her hand and closing the last step between them, Lucy brought the palm of her hand down hard across Clara's face. A satisfying slap rang out against the glass walls of the conservatory. Clara let out a stunned squeaking sound and lifted her hand to her face. Lucy glared at her, as the red mark spread across Clara's cheek.