The Lost Countess That Counted Stars (Historical Regency Romance)

by Patricia Haverton

  Jonathan turned Jora around after the carriage which was already quite a way away. He was about to spurn his horse into a gallop to follow the carriage when a curricle raced around the corner and the horses, going at top speed, nearly collided with Jora, causing her to buck. Jonathan, whose attention had been focused entirely on the departing carriage, was taken by such surprise that he lost his grip and felt himself catapulted into the air. He recalled the ground coming toward him at rapid speed when everything turned black as he fell to the ground.

  Chapter 3

  “Stop the carriage! Stop!” Olivia’s panicked voice drew Isolde out of a deep slumber. When she opened her eyes, she was momentarily disoriented but then remembered where she was. That morning, she and her cousin, Miss Henrietta Gordon, had convinced their chaperone, Lady Conner, to allow them return to Roselawn Manor via carriage, rather than wait for Eric to collect them.

  Lady Conner had been rather perturbed by the incident at the ball. Additionally, Isolde’s cousin, Henrietta, who’d been a guest of Lady Conner as well, spent most of the week in floods of tears, owing to a broken courtship. She’d been so distraught that she even missed the ball. The two circumstances led Lady Conner to quickly agree to the suggestion and allowed her charges to depart her supervision by way of their old carriage.

  Tired from the ordeal that had been the ball, Isolde had promptly fallen asleep once in the carriage. Now, she found herself awakened in the most unpleasant of manners.

  “What is the matter, Olivia? Why the shouting?” She realized that both Olivia and Henrietta were looking out the window on their side of the carriage, mesmerized by something up ahead. Isolde decided to look out her window, but found the view obstructed.

  “An accident, Izzy! A rider collided with a curricle and was thrown from his horse into a bush.”

  “Faith! How awful!” Isolde had taken several tumbles off her horses over the years, but had been fortunate to never be seriously harmed. She scooted over closer to Henrietta and glanced out the window. The incident had occurred at the fork of the road, quite a way behind them and it was difficult to see.

  The curricle was parked on the side and a great many people attended to the man. The man sat on the ground with a beautiful black mare beside him. He appeared unharmed, though required the help of several bystanders to stand. Once upright, he dusted off his trousers and attended to his horse.

  “He appears unhurt.” Henrietta commented as the man was helped to his feet. “A relief!”

  “A lucky man he is!” Olivia nodded as she leaned back in her seat. “We may press on!” She called out to the driver and the carriage was set in motion once again.

  Isolde leaned back, still a little flustered at the sudden excitement. She was looking forward to spending the next few days at home, in solitude. She did not wish to socialize any further, for the previous night had shaken her more than she wanted to admit.

  “Are you quite all right, Cousin? How is your ankle feeling?” Henrietta asked when Isolde sighed. Henrietta’s eyes were puffed and red from having spent much of the past week in tears.

  “I am rather fatigued. But, I am fine. My ankle aches me some, but I shall soldier on.” She smiled at her cousin, the way she always did when covering up the truth. She was more than fatigued. She was disillusioned with the ton and her role in it, and wanted nothing more than to withdraw from it all. Except, the thought of the young man who’d helped her kept rushing back. She’d thought of him often since they parted. If only she’d discovered his name.

  “We have all had a dreadful few days,” Olivia sighed as the carriage made another turn.

  “All? I understand Isolde’s predicament and I am of course utterly ruined, but you? What has befallen you? Too many dashing suitors?”

  Isolde grinned at her cousin’s remark, for she really did not understand why Olivia felt she was in as miserable a position as them. Olivia glared at Henrietta.

  “Oh Etta, must you be so snide? It doesn’t suit you. And yes, indeed it is a suitor that’s causing me a headache.”

  “Is it that dashing Lord Canterbury? I overheard your Mother and Lady Buxby fawn over him this morning. Has he asked to court you?”

  “He danced with her twice, Etta. I am certain he would have asked to dance again, had it not been for my unfortunate interruption of the night.”

  “I just escaped my Mother’s inquisition regarding the good Lord, now I must face it from the both of you?”

  “Naturally, he was clearly enamored of you. He could not tear his eyes away from you for one moment. I was certain he would dance right into a pillar, he was so taken by you.” Isolde was grateful for the change in subject.

  “Zooks! I should not have agreed to dance the quadrille with him after the cotillion. I have had quite enough. He is rather in love with himself. He spoke of nothing but his many accomplishments on the battlefield against Napoleon’s forces at Waterloo.”

  “Isn’t it interesting how many of our young Lords claim to have fought at Waterloo? And each and every one a hero. They would have you believe they are the Duke of Wellington himself.”

  “Indeed! And I just happen to know that Lord Canterbury never once served a day in the armed forces at all!” Olivia shook her head in dismay.

  “What a shame. He seemed like such an interesting and handsome fellow,” Isolde shook her head while Henrietta looked from one to the other, mesmerized by the conversation and no doubt upset at herself for missing it all.

  Olivia groaned, “He certainly thinks he is both the most interesting man and the fairest! Though in reality he has two left feet and bad breath!”

  This made Isolde laugh, which was rather unexpected given her mood. Even Henrietta felt herself moved to chuckle. Olivia, however, did not join in the merry mood. When she spoke again, it was in a grave tone.

  “He has declared his intention to court me. Mother informed me this morning. He has asked to speak to my Father about it at the earliest convenience.”’

  “Has he? How very fortunate.” Henrietta sounded quite excited at the prospect, oblivious to Olivia’s clear distress.

  “It is not, for I do not wish to be courted by him.”

  Henrietta furrowed her eyebrows. “At least you have a Lord wishing to court you. What of me? I shall become an old maid.” Her lips quivered as she prepared to shed tears once more.

  “Faith, dearest Cousin, do not begin this again. It is not the end of the world. At least you have a chance to go to the next ball and find another suitor,” Isolde said. Her cousin glanced at her, her eyes already glimmering with tears.

  “No. I shan’t go out in public ever again.”

  “I’m afraid you shall have to eventually show your face in public, lest people think we’ve done away with you! Imagine the scandal then!” Olivia giggled, but Henrietta did not see the fun in it at all.

  “You see! Even my dear friend laughs at me! Everyone will be pointing and talking behind my back. I’m ruined! Utterly ruined!” She broke into sobs so severe that her entire body shook.

  “Etta, I did not mean to upset you. I spoke in jest to make you smile. Usually you enjoy my humor.”

  “Today is not a usual day. In fact, I do not know when there will ever be a usual day again!” She dabbed her eyes carefully as not to smudge the powder she’d applied so carefully this morning. Isolde didn’t quite know why she’d bothered, for she was bound to cry and make a mess of it anyhow.

  Isolde retrieved a handkerchief from her reticule and handed it to her cousin. Beside her, Olivia sighed and shook her head at their friend’s tragic display.

  “It is not as terrible as you make it out to be. Other courtships have failed. Yours is not the first, nor will it be the last. Do not fret.”

  Henrietta glared at Olivia. “How do you know? You don’t even want to be courted.”

  Olivia shook her head and looked out the window.

  “Etta, do you not believe that it is rather a blessing in disguise that it happened befo
re you were wed? Imagine if Lord Hancock had run away with the other woman after you were married. Or after you had children. That would have been a true scandal. As such, it is only a minor complication. Another wonderful match will be found in no time.”

  Her cousin’s rapid breathing slowed somewhat.

  “You are right, Isolde, it would have been worse. In that event I would have been Lady Hancock, Marchioness of Hancock with a large estate in Kent, a house in London, staff to wait on me, and enough money to never worry again.”

  “And with the stain of a husband who left you for a merchant’s daughter,” Olivia pointed out. The carriage was about to turn onto the sandy road that led to the main house.

  “A merchant’s daughter! Can you imagine! Not only have I lost the chance to wed a Marquess, I lost him to a lowly merchant’s daughter. The embarrassment!”

  Isolde cleared her throat. She did not want to contribute to her cousin’s misery, but she also did not want to see her continue on in such a state. She was utterly at sixes and sevens.

  “A merchant’s daughter she might be, but she is from money. People will talk about that. If nothing else, your loss will contribute to the ongoing discussion over nobles going into trade.”

  Henrietta rumpled her nose at the mere notion. “My Father always says nobles shouldn’t sully their hands with trade. Neither should they sully their beds with merchant daughters,” she crossed her arms in front of her chest and stared out the window. She did not see the look of contempt Isolde shot her way.

  She loved her cousin, she was one of only three people in the world she truly trusted and depended upon, aside from Olivia and her older brother, Eric. There were days, however, when she truly got on her last nerve. She often had an attitude befitting a Duke’s daughter the way she carried on. In her rant about nobles in trade she’d clearly forgotten that her own uncle was in business with merchants.

  Just because Henrietta’s father, Baron Balwick, chose not to dirty his hands with work, did not mean that it was not beneficial. Isolde was not a cruel person so she would never tell her cousin this, but the mere fact that her father was not as wealthy was part of why it had been so difficult for Henrietta to find a good match. There were simply other, higher-born daughters that came with a better dowry.

  Isolde looked from her cousin, who was distraught over the end of a courtship, to Olivia, who was equally distraught–because she was fretting over the beginning of a new one. As much as Isolde wished for a kind Lord to take an interest in her, sometimes she felt that being without prospects could have its advantages.

  * * *

  Their carriage arrived in front of Roselawn Manor a few minutes later. To her surprise, she saw their landau outside.

  “Has Cousin Gordon arrived home early?” Henrietta wondered as the three jumped out of the carriage.

  “It appears so,” Isolde strutted forward, excited at the prospect of seeing her brother. As she came around the carriage, her brother rushed out of the house, still in his traveling clothes.

  “Sister!” He was by her side in two strides and lifted her up. He twirled her once and set her back down, both of them smiling. “What are you doing here? I was about to come fetch you and Cousin Henrietta.”

  Oh,” he stopped when he spotted his cousin, “there you are! You look glum. What’s the matter? Is the Marquess dragging his feet with an offer? Shall I go see if I can speed things up a bit?” He playfully lifted his fists in the air, mocking a punch. This instantly set Henrietta off once more and she burst into tears. Leaving her cousin behind with a puzzled expression on his face, she rushed into the house.

  “What has happened?”

  Isolde sighed and shook her head. “The Marquess has run off to Gretna Green with another woman.”

  “By Jove! That’s unfortunate. No wonder she was upset. I shall go apologize.”

  “It will be best to let her be. It’s been nothing but tears and tantrums the entire week. Some alone time might do her good,” Olivia had stepped out from the shadow of the carriage, her hands buried deep in her silver muff.

  “Miss Brown, a pleasure to see you,” Eric said and bowed. “And I am not surprised to hear it. My Cousin has a love for the dramatic. This, however, is most unfortunate.”

  Isolde nodded, “Yes, and especially as it turned out that the Marquess had planned the whole thing. He’d intended to only carry on the courtship until he had secured enough funds to take the merchant’s daughter to Scotland to wed.”

  Eric squinted and pursed his lips. “A weasel, this Marquess. I should have a right mind to put a facer on him, and I do not speak in jest this time.”

  Isolde smiled at her brother’s declaration. One of the things she liked best about him was his ferocious desire to protect his family.

  “We shall have to keep an eye on her. She’s taken it awfully hard. She would not even come to the ball yesterday.”

  “Cousin Henrietta turning down a ball? She must be in agony. We shall look after her until she goes home, don’t fret. She will be all right. Surely Lord Balwick will find another suitor soon.” He paused and glanced at Olivia who stood quietly, not wishing to interrupt the conversation.

  “Miss Brown, would you care to come inside and warm yourself with a cup of hot chocolate? It is utterly freezing here.”

  Olivia shook her head, “Thank you for the offer, Mister Gordon. But I do not have the time. I must return home at once.”

  “Another time, then” Eric said and bowed again. Isolde detected a hint of disappointment in her brother’s voice, but said nothing.

  “I shall see you soon, Izzy,” her friend said. The two girls kissed each other on the cheek before Olivia returned to her carriage and departed.

  * * *

  The siblings entered the house and relieved themselves of their outer layers. The house was cold, although it was not a surprise as they had not been home for some time. The servants would only keep the fire going in the servant areas to preserve firewood.

  “Mister Gordon, the fire is going in the drawing room, if you please.” North said as he collected their coats, muffs, and hats.

  “Thank you, North. Would you have the cook prepare a few refreshments? Hot chocolate, Sister?”

  Isolde nodded, a smile on her face. She loved hot chocolate. “And some dry cake if there is any?” After the butler departed, they walked to the drawing room and sat by the fire.

  “I cannot wait for Christmastide. Can you believe it is that time again already?” Isolde loved Christmastide with a passion. She would decorate the house with greenery and wait for the first snowfall year after year. It reminded her of her childhood, when her mother was still alive. Suddenly, the thought of her mother brought back the conversation she’d overheard between Lady Conner and Lady Buxby.

  “Do you remember Mother well?” Her eyes focused on the dancing embers in the fireplace.

  “Of course, I do. I remember her well. Don’t you?”

  She glanced at him, “I have some memories of her, though not many. I remember I used to hide between her legs all the time when we went anywhere because strangers frightened me. I remember walking in the snow, throwing snowballs. One year she helped me build a snowman.”

  Her brother broke into laughter, “Yes! I do recall. She tasked me with sneaking into the kitchen to retrieve a carrot for the nose. I was not to ask the cook for it; I was to procure it in a sneaky manner. She wanted to make it a game for me.” The smile faded away and his eyes darkened. “That was the year she died. I remember she was close to her time of confinement.”

  “Yes, that is right. That is the last true memory I have of her. I wish I remembered her more.”

  Her brother sighed, “I know you do, Sister. But you were much younger than I when she passed. I was already fourteen, you only six. It is no wonder you have such little memories. Say, what brings on this sudden conversation about Mother?”

  She shrugged her shoulders, “I did not have a good experience at the ball last nig
ht.” She locked eyes with her brother. “Promise me, Brother, that I shall not have to attend any more balls for a while. If Father attempts to make me and I refuse, will you please support me?”

  Eric frowned, “I promise I will do all I can, Sister. But what has upset you so?”

  Isolde sighed. “I overheard Lady Conner telling the Countess of Buxby about my lack of maternal influence, in order to explain my plain appearance and lack of a suitor. And then…” Eric inhaled sharply, already enraged.

  “That woman. I do not know why Father is so fond of using her as a chaperone for you. You might as well have spent the week we were away with Lord Balwick at this rate.”

  “Faith, no! I would much rather put up with the kneeling from Lady Conner than the endless tedium of Lady Balwick.”

  Their aunt, Henrietta’s mother, was the very definition of an upper-class noblewoman. Refined, accomplished in her music, as well as needlework–and utterly boring. She would go on monologues about her latest needlework that could drag on for hours, putting to sleep even the most energetic of persons. Between her tedious nature, and Lord Balwick’s menacing one, it was no wonder Henrietta enjoyed spending time at Roselawn as much as she did.

  Eric looked in the fire, shaking his head. Isolde decided not to continue the tale of last night for he would grow ever more infuriated and likely seek out Hester York and Frances Portsmouth’s families. She did not wish to draw more attention. Eric would find out eventually anyhow, but she decided that for today, she’d rather enjoy the quiet without talking about the matter further.

  “All I ask is that you promise to support my refusal to go to another ball.”

  “I shall, Isolde.” He paused when suddenly his eyes grew wide. “Zooks. I nearly forgot. You will not believe who I saw!”

  Isolde, her hands now thoroughly warm, sat on the settee, her legs tucked under her.

  “Who?” They lived in the country, and the nearest town, Hascombe, was scarcely populated so whoever it was he had met had to be someone rather unusual.