Lord Reginald (Sons of the Marquess Book 1)

by Mary Kingswood

  “I hope this business is important, Connie,” he said, “because I might have been enjoying my dear Robinia’s smiles instead of changing out of wet clothes yet again. Why does it rain so much? I can never remember a season like it. I am sure it never rained at all last year.”

  “How is Robinia?” Connie said. “Recovered from her dreadful experience, I hope?”

  “Oh, yes! She is an angel, Connie! I cannot thank you enough for finding her for me.”

  She laughed and tucked her arm in his. “Your happiness is thanks enough. Ugh, Reggie, you are quite soaked through. Go and change, and we will await you in the book room.”

  The book room was one of the few parts of Marford House untouched by Connie’s refurbishments. The marquess had insisted on one sanctuary safe from men with ladders and brushes and buckets of paint, one place that still looked reassuringly familiar. Accordingly, the book room remained old-fashioned, dark, gloomy and, to Reggie’s mind, thoroughly dismal. With the rain lashing down outside, necessitating every lamp and candelabra to be lit, it was like the worst days of winter, and it was hard even to remember the sunny garden at Laurel Grove, and the sweet face of his beloved.

  All the Marford brothers were present, as well as Harriet and Connie, and it wanted only Merton to make the scene a replica of the occasion in January, when he had told them all that they had to make savings. Well, Reggie had done his part — he had found his heiress, and would be comfortably established without the need to find a career for himself. But the others had still to be settled.

  Carrbridge seated himself behind the desk. “I had hoped we could postpone any decisions until after the season, but Gil has made that impossible. Whatever possessed you to seduce your friend’s wife?”

  “It was no such thing!” Gil said hotly. “She would not leave me alone, and that is the truth, and what could I do?”

  “You could have said no,” Carrbridge said severely.

  “I do not like to disoblige a lady.”

  Carrbridge sighed. “You are incorrigible, Gil. And lucky that Major Telford never caught up with you, for he would have skewered you with his sword, and then where would you be? Why do you do such things? Even Humphrey and Gus were never so wild.”

  “I have to have something to amuse me, Carrbridge. The season is so dreadfully dull. Nothing but fixed smiles and empty politeness for months on end. I cannot bear it! So much civility suffocates me, I swear it, so that I am barely alive. I need action and adventure, not drawing rooms. Will you not let me join the Hussars? At least I could be wild to some purpose there.”

  “It is not at all what I like, for you could be wounded or even killed, and none of us want that, but I believe you must have your wish. The Hussars it is, although perhaps a different regiment from Major Telford?”

  “Oh famous! You are the best of brothers, Carrbridge! Thank you, thank you! The King’s Own would suit me admirably.”

  He leapt up and flung his arms round his brother, who batted him away with a smile. “Yes, yes, but do not crumple my cravat, you know. Now then, Monty, it is your turn. What are we to do with you, for you cannot go around sending money to every poor person who asks for it, or we shall all be penniless.”

  “I am very sorry,” Monty said, in tones of abject misery. “But I did sincerely pity poor Mrs Gartmore, and I was just trying to do my Christian duty towards the destitute.”

  “She was so far from destitute that she refurbished her entire house on your Christian generosity,” Reggie said.

  “I am very sorry,” Monty said again, hanging his head.

  “You are always very sorry,” Carrbridge said with a sigh. “What is to be done about it?”

  “Is it not obvious?” Reggie said. “Let him stand for ordination, then he will have a whole parish to absorb his excess of charity.”

  “Oh, yes, please!” Monty said eagerly. “I should like that of all things. To be a curate of a small rural parish, somewhere I might hope to do a little good — what could be better?”

  Carrbridge blinked at him. “Almost anything, I should imagine. But I have several livings at my disposal, so once you are fully qualified your income will be secure.” He exhaled gustily. “Lord, I shall miss you, though, Monty. At least I think we may draw a line under the whole business of Mrs Gartmore. A small cottage and a modest allowance for life – and not a penny more! That should keep her quiet. Merton and the lawyers are to explain it all to her, and impress on her that she must not keep importuning me for more money. And the son is turning into quite a useful little gamekeeper, by all accounts, so we do not need to worry about him. What about you, Gus? Are you planning to follow in Reggie’s footsteps and hunt down an heiress?”

  “Not really ready to be leg-shackled yet, if it is all the same to you, but I am not sure what else I can do. The army sounds far too uncomfortable for me, and the church a great deal too dull, and I could never abide being cooped up indoors all day as a lawyer or secretary. I want to be outside in the clean air, preferably with horses. I might hang about Tattersall’s and see if something turns up — training or breeding, that sort of thing. Or I might wander down to Newmarket.”

  “So will not be returning to Drummoor, either,” Carrbridge said sadly. “Humphrey, what about you? Heiress? At least tell me you are not going away.”

  “I should like to establish my own gaming house in London,” Humphrey said.

  The silence in the room was absolute.

  Then Gil laughed. “Really, Humphrey, you are the most complete hand. A gaming house? A Marford running a gaming house? The ancestors would be shocked to their crumbling bones.”

  “I do not see why,” Humphrey said stiffly. “Many of them spent more time in such places than in their own homes, and if they had been owners instead of patrons we would not now be in the position of needing to find employment. Very profitable, a gaming house, even an honest one.”

  “You would not run such a business from Marford House?” Connie said in shocked tones.

  “No, no, no! A discreet little house in one of the better districts but tucked away off the main thoroughfare. Very exclusive, and everything of the best.”

  “Sounds expensive,” Reggie said.

  “True, but one has to spend the readies first in order to make more money later. That is true of any business venture.”

  “How much?” Carrbridge said faintly.

  Humphrey looked conscious, and then said in subdued tones, “One hundred thousand. But I should make it all back within a year or two — three at the most. Definitely no more than five.”

  Carrbridge shook his head, although whether in refusal or in simple disbelief was hard to determine. Reggie could hardly believe it himself. “You are an idiot, Humphrey, if you think Carrbridge is going to give you so much money for such a chuckle-headed scheme. A hundred thousand, indeed!”

  “Indeed, I would not, even if I had that amount, but I should not imagine I could raise even half that sum just now,” Carrbridge said.

  Humphrey sighed. “I guessed you would say that, but think what a good investment it would be.”

  He looked round at them pleadingly, but no one would give him the least encouragement, and he hung his head dejectedly.

  “I have an idea,” Connie said suddenly.

  Humphrey’s head came up, a look of optimism on his face. “You always have such good ideas, Connie.”

  “Why not marry an heiress—”

  “But—”

  “Marry an heiress and use her money to fund your gaming house.”

  “Oh — actually, that is not a half bad idea. Do you know any ladies with a dowry that large?”

  “There are a few. It will have to be trade, of course, but you will not mind that.”

  “Well… I suppose not. Yes, that has possibilities. But I am not as easy-going as Reggie, to fall in love with the very girl you picked out for him. It would suit me better to have a choice.”

  “That can be arranged,” Connie said, patting his
hand genially. “A little tea party, I think, and perhaps ten young ladies. Would that be enough for you, do you suppose?”

  “I suppose so. Thank you, Connie.” But he sounded downcast, all the same.

  “So that is all settled,” Carrbridge said, in tones of great gloom. “Now you will all be leaving me, I suppose, and the house will be empty and full of echoes, and Lady Carrbridge and I will sit down to dinner quite alone.”

  Reggie laughed, and punched him on the arm. “When have you ever sat down with fewer than twenty covers at table? You have all the aunts, for one thing, not to mention Hatty, and Connie is so generous with her invitations that there are always guests. You will never be lonely, Carrbridge.”

  “Not lonely, no, because I always have my dear wife with me, that is true, but I shall miss you all when you are gone. We have been such a happy little band of brothers, it is very hard to lose you all.”

  “It is a natural change,” Connie said. “You have sons of your own now, who will grow up to shoot arrows at the roof in the great hall and race each other up and down the long gallery and ride their horses through the kitchens and all the other mischief you and your brothers got up to as boys. But they are boys no more, and you cannot keep them kicking their heels at Drummoor for ever. It is time they were all settled in their own homes or their own careers.”

  “You are quite right, my love, as always,” he said, although he sighed heavily at the prospect.

  “Besides, it is not as if we were going away to the colonies,” Reggie said. “Robinia and I will only be at Lower Harkwell, and twice a year we shall descend on you so that our twelve children can play with your fourteen, and you will be heartily glad to see the back of us when we leave again.”

  Amidst the general laughter, Connie said gently, “Fourteen? How dutiful of me!”

  “That is an excess of duty,” Harriet said, smiling. “You have two sons, that is quite enough duty, I should say.”

  “Oh dear,” Connie said, blushing prettily. “I fear it is already too late for me to stop at two.”

  This caused loud cheers and many hugs and smiles, even from Harriet.

  Reggie added his congratulations, but his mind was already wandering back to Laurel Grove and Robinia, as he counted the hours until he would be with her once more. Was it still raining? Would he have to endure another wet journey? But he hardly cared. Robinia was worth every inconvenience, her presence at his side so essential to his happiness that he would brave any storm to be with her.

  He had not always known his own mind so clearly. How foolish he had been not to appreciate all her perfections from the start. He had so admired her forthright spirit, and yet he had imagined she would be a docile wife — how dull that would be! And how arrogant he had been to imagine that she would marry him merely because he asked her. She had been quite right to send him away.

  Yet how prettily she had apologised to him for doing so! How sombrely she had admitted her own mistake in believing she had needed no man to protect her.

  “It was conceited of me,” she had said, gazing earnestly into his face. “To imagine that I might do as I pleased, without any care for the consequences, is the result of a very puffed-up sense of my own importance.”

  “You have been very well sheltered all your life,” Reggie had said. “How should you appreciate the need for such protection when you have never been aware of it?”

  “My judgement was sadly at fault, in thinking so well of Captain Daker. It is very lowering to have one’s opinions prove to be so wrong. Although I could never have imagined he would stoop so low as to attempt… that.”

  He kissed her gently on the forehead. “Many people were taken in by Daker at first, for he is very personable, it must be said. Even I can see that. Combined with the expectation of his marriage to you, he was drawn into a higher level of society than he was used to and got a little out of his depth. It was only when news spread that your father was against the match that his creditors began to press him. My brothers and I tried to befriend him and keep him out of trouble, and Humphrey bought up as many of his gaming debts as he could, but it was not enough, and Daker grew desperate.”

  She twined her fingers through Reggie’s and looked up at him with a shy smile. “But my hero rescued me. So wise, setting up your brothers to watch over me like guardian angels. Even from so far away, you were taking care no harm befell me, as a gentleman should. Reggie, my perfect gentleman, my dear love.”

  He sighed at the memory of her words, remembering the warmth of her kisses, the gentleness of her touch. He could not wait to see her lovely face again. These days of courtship were so sweet, and yet he knew that married life would be even sweeter. Very soon now his love would be Lady Reginald, mistress of her own home and of his heart, always.

  THE END

  Book 2 of the series is Lord Humphrey, and you can read a sneak preview of Chapter 1 after the acknowledgements. For more information or to buy, go to my website.

  Thanks for reading!

  If you have enjoyed reading this book, please consider writing a short review on Amazon. You can find out the latest news and sign up for the mailing list at my website.

  A note on historical accuracy: I have endeavoured to stay true to the spirit of Regency times, and have avoided taking too many liberties or imposing modern sensibilities on my characters. The book is not one of historical record, but I’ve tried to make it reasonably accurate. However, I’m not perfect! If you spot a historical error, I’d very much appreciate knowing about it so that I can correct it and learn from it. Thank you!

  About Sons of the Marquess: the ninth Marquess of Carrbridge is happily married to the former Miss Constance Allamont, he has an heir and a spare in the nursery, and all seems set fair for a life of perfect bliss. His five younger brothers are a bit of a handful, but young men like to spread their wings a bit. If only they weren’t so expensive! And whatever happened to that huge income his father used to boast about? It seems to have vanished in a generation. And now there’s the unknown son of his father’s who claims to be the legitimate heir to the marquessate. It’s a bit much for a marquess to deal with. Fortunately, his wife has some ideas about recovering their position…

  Book 0: The Earl of Deveron (a novella, free to mailing list subscribers)

  Book 1: Lord Reginald

  Book 2: Lord Humphrey

  Book 3: Lord Augustus

  Book 4: Lord Montague

  Book 5: Lord Gilbert

  Any questions about the series? Email me - I’d love to hear from you!

  About the author

  I write traditional Regency romances under the pen name Mary Kingswood, and epic fantasy as Pauline M Ross. I live in the beautiful Highlands of Scotland with my husband. I like chocolate, whisky, my Kindle, massed pipe bands, long leisurely lunches, chocolate, going places in my campervan, eating pizza in Italy, summer nights that never get dark, wood fires in winter, chocolate, the view from the study window looking out over the Moray Firth and the Black Isle to the mountains beyond. And chocolate. I dislike driving on motorways, cooking, shopping, hospitals.

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks go to:

  My mother, who first introduced me to the wonderful world of Jane Austen.

  Shayne Rutherford of Darkmoon Graphics for the cover design

  My beta readers: Mary Burnett, Graham at Fading Street

  Last, but definitely not least, my first reader: Amy Ross.

  Sneak peek: Lord Humphrey 1: A Tea Party

  Lord Humphrey Marford could not recall ever being so nervous before. At the age of seven and twenty, and brother to the Marquess of Carrbridge, he was at ease moving through the saloons and ballrooms of the upper echelons of English society. He could converse with dowagers and debutantes, he could dance the quadrille with elegance, he could discuss the vagaries of the royal family in the clubs and he could play any game from chess to whist or backgammon, and win at most of them. He drove his curricle with style and was a
fearsome rider to hounds. He knew the best tailors and bootmakers, and attired himself with panache. He was the complete gentleman, never at a loss.

  But he had never before had to choose himself a bride.

  Now that the moment had come, he was having second thoughts. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time — to marry a woman of independent wealth, and use those funds to establish his own gaming house. And his sister-in-law Connie, good soul that she was, had organised everything for him. Ten of the richest unmarried women she could find, invited to a modest tea party at Marford House, the family’s London home, and he could meet them and make his choice.

  He was not much in the petticoat line, it had to be said. A dance or two at a ball, for the sake of politeness, and then he usually took himself off to the card room for a few rubbers of whist and a glass or two of brandy. He had no objection to having a smartly-dressed lady beside him if he chose to drive his curricle around Hyde Park. He might even, if pressed and no better entertainment offered, join a party attending the theatre. But a room full of ladies was a challenge to his fortitude.

  The difficulty was that these were not women of quality, the daughters of the aristocracy, with whom he had been familiar since infancy. No, the sort of money he needed could only be found amongst the men of trade. He had never mingled with such people before, had never even noticed them, except when one was pointed out to him at the theatre. Would the women be plain and ill-dressed? Would they be loud, with rough manners? Might they even have dreadful accents? He shuddered. And how would he manage to live with such a person, and entrust his children to her? It was not at all what he was used to. Then he laughed at himself. They were no different from anyone else, these rich women. The ones he had seen had been as fashionably dressed and as pretty as their aristocratic counterparts. No doubt they learnt the same accomplishments and know how to conduct themselves. What foolishness to be so afraid of them!