Love Letters to a Lady: A Historical Regency Clean Sweet Romance Novel

by Fanny Finch

  Love Letters to a Lady

  A True Clean & Sweet Historical Regency Romance Novel

  Fanny Finch

  Copyright © 2018 by Fanny Finch

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  * * *

  Contents

  Be a Part of Fanny Finch’s Family

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  The Extended Epilogue

  Do You Want More Historical Romance?

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  Also by Fanny Finch

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  Chapter One

  Julia Weston looked forward to a great many things in life.

  She looked forward to balls and dancing, to long walks and picnics, and of course shopping.

  But most of all, she looked forward to nothing better than a lively dinner party.

  Balls were all well and good and she enjoyed them immensely. There was something oddly intimate about balls, the way that one could carry on a conversation with a friend and it was busy enough that nobody could overhear you.

  A proper dinner party, however, was the best for lively conversation. A group of witty people, discussing anything and everything over dinner. And then cards and games afterwards!

  It was all quite fun.

  Dinners also had the added benefit of being easier on Mother. She did her best to go to balls but Julia didn’t want to overtax her. With a dinner party, Julia could play host and Mother could take dinner by herself. Then she could come down and engage in the card games.

  Sometimes dinners could be awfully boring if there weren’t the right sort of people at them. Stuffy people with no imagination and no literary bent and nothing to talk about but the weather.

  She did so hate those dinners.

  Fortunately, this was not going to be one of those such dinners. She was hosting it and therefore she was in charge of who was invited.

  Of course there were always courtesies to be upheld. And she had to invite a few people for Mother’s sake. But overall it would be a lively affair.

  Julia looked herself over in the mirror. Georgiana, her dearest friend, had always said that Julia was blessed for liking her appearance. Most women seemed to hate how they looked and wanted nothing more than to look like someone else.

  But Julia had always liked her dark hair and dark eyes, her sharp eyebrows and thick eyelashes. She knew the thing nowadays was to be pale and fragile-looking. Georgiana fit that perfectly with her white-blonde hair and gray eyes.

  Julia, however, thought she was quite content just the way that she was.

  The light blue frock she was wearing, with its slightly darker blue ribbon around the middle, quite complemented her look. Or so she thought.

  “I think it’s ravishing, don’t you, Mother?”

  Mrs. Weston, Julia’s mother, had once been a great beauty. Julia could remember being a child and watching her mother get ready for a ball in the evening.

  It had been like watching a queen get ready. In fact, Julia had once thought her mother must be nobility of some kind. Why else would someone be so regal and so beautiful?

  But illness had done away with all of that. It broke Julia’s heart to see her mother in such a state.

  Of course, Mother bore it all very well. Her mind had not gone and her wit, often spoken of in social circles, was as sharp as ever.

  But she could rarely stand to go out for long periods of time. She spent most of her time at balls sitting. Friends went to her now instead of her calling upon them, for walking too much and in the sun tired her immensely.

  Just a short two months ago, Julia and her mother—along with Georgiana and a young gentleman—had gone on a picnic. Mother had not complained once, but she had slept all the next day in order to recover.

  Sometimes, Julia wished that there was something she could do. That she could be like a heroine in a novel, and learn that there was a cure! A great, wonderful cure, if only she could compel an expedition to go to the heart of deepest Africa, or the highest mountains of Tibet, or the wilds of South American jungles to find it.

  Julia had never seen anything wrong with indulging in a little flight of fancy now and again. In her mind’s eye she could see herself, triumphantly grinding the rare tropical flower into a powder and putting it in a soup, presenting it to her mother.

  Then Mother would be well again, and become the joyful, beautiful person that Julia remembered from her childhood.

  But flights of fancy always ended. And she would have to face the truth once again.

  Neither Mother nor Father were fans of pessimism. And Mother was a woman possessed of an unusual determination.

  But Julia could not help but worry. This was her mother.

  Mother raised an eyebrow. “I hardly see the point of wearing that frock, my dear.”

  Julia frowned at her dress in the mirror. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because the point of looking lovely is to show yourself off to potential suitors. And since you are woefully picky about said suitors you might as well wear black for all your frocks are worth.”

  “Mother!”

  “Well there is little point in setting out a bird feeder if the feeder is empty,” Mother replied tartly.

  “Mother—”

  Father appeared in the doorway, knocking lightly upon the open door. “May I enter?”

  Julia sat down in her chair in despair. Father always took Mother’s side.

  “You look lovely,” Father announced. He always said that. Julia was convinced that she could put herself in a sackcloth and Father would say that she looked quite fashion-forward. “I am departing for London in the carriage. Do me a favor and don’t cause too many scandals while I’m gone.”

  “Please impose upon your daughter the importance of finding a husband,” Mother said.

  “My daughter? Why is she always only my daughter when you are cross with her?” Father asked.

  He then looked over at Julia. “But you really must give some thought to marriage, dear. Your mother is right.

  “You will not be young forever. Look at how panicked dear Georgiana
became after so many years. Your mother and I will not be around forever.”

  Julia sighed. She had heard this whole lecture before. But it was so hard to think about marriage when she had yet to meet a man who held her attention for any length of time.

  She knew, objectively, that she must find a husband. Knowing objectively, however, and feeling the pressure of it were two different things entirely.

  Father frowned at her. “Are you even listening to me, Julia? I know that I have recovered from my illness. But it will not be the last illness that I have. I am no longer in the prime of health.

  “In fact, your mother and I are rather of the opinion that if you do not treat your suitors more seriously, you are to have your other freedoms restricted.”

  “What?” Julia stood up in shock and horror at that. She knew that her parents allowed her more freedoms and more headway than many other ladies. She was not at all anxious to give any of that up.

  Father nodded solemnly. “Yes. It has become clear to us that we have allowed you to behave as if you were already mistress of a home—”

  “Because Mother is ill!” Julia protested. “She shouldn’t have to handle such things when I am around!”

  “Your reasons are thoughtful,” her mother said. “And it was born out of necessity. But it has allowed you to become far too certain of yourself.”

  Julia could hardly believe what she was hearing.

  “And you think that springing this news upon me in such a fashion will help me to be more inclined to follow such advice?”

  “It is not advice,” Father said. “It is an order. We are your parents and when we tell you that you are to set about properly finding a husband then you are to agree and do as you are told.”

  Rarely did Father speak so firmly. Julia wanted to ask why he was being like this. Had she done something wrong? Had she embarrassed the family in some way?

  Perhaps he was worried that his illness would come back. Both of her parents had been feeling poorly when they decided to move to Bath. Although Father now felt better, they elected to stay for Mother’s sake.

  Could it be that Father had news about his illness that he had not told Julia?

  Fear stuck in her throat, closing it up. Of course, she could not know for certain. And Father would never tell her if that was the case.

  It could simply be that he was seeing all the other young ladies getting married. Georgiana had just gotten engaged to be married and many had already started to call her a spinster.

  Perhaps it grated on his pride. His daughter was the talk of the town and yet, not wed. It must be hard on him, to hear about all of these other women getting married and his own daughter was not. His daughter, said to be the star of many a ball.

  Julia could appreciate that. But how could she be expected to marry a man when they were all so shallow? None of them truly appreciated her wit. Or seemed to think of her as anything other than an opportunity for her dowry or ability to bear children.

  She loved her life with her parents far too much to be compelled to marry a man whom she did not love. They seemed to love her, but often without truly knowing her.

  And she certainly did not love any of them.

  Her parents, she knew, had not been in love when they had married. But surely they could understand that she wanted more?

  Their marriage had worked out. They loved one another now. But not everyone was so lucky.

  Her mother sighed. “You will not be young and sparkling forever, my dear. Women are not diamonds.

  “It is important that you start to think about this seriously. Georgiana was fortunate in that her brother was rich and willing to care for her after her father passed.

  “You have no one. No brother, and I highly doubt your cousin Fitzwilliam shall wish to care for you. That is not at all fair to force upon your relative.

  “It is your duty to get married. It is not a privilege. It is time that you started to take that duty more seriously.

  “At this dinner there will be several eligible young men. I shall expect you to pay close attention to them. Any one of them would make you an excellent husband.”

  Julia groaned inwardly. She should have known that something was afoot when Mother showed such care with the guest list.

  Normally, Mother didn’t care to see the guest list at all. “Whatever you think is best, dear,” she would say. “So long as there are people with whom I might converse.”

  Not this time. This time, Mother had gone over everyone. Julia had thought it odd, but she had dismissed it from her mind.

  Mother must have been ensuring that men of whom she approved as potential sons-in-law would be present.

  Julia wanted to seethe. She wanted to put her foot down—literally—and declare that she would not marry until the greatest of love compelled her to.

  That was not the proper thing to do. The mature thing to do. Marriage was not about love. Marriage was about duty.

  She had been living on borrowed time, so to speak, and now that time was up.

  Julia searched her parents’ faces. Found the worry hidden in the lines around her mother’s eyes and in her father’s clenched jaw.

  They only wanted what was best for her, she told herself. They wanted to make sure that she was well taken care of, so that if Father took a turn for the worst again they needn’t worry for her.

  Julia nodded, swallowing down the protests she wanted to give.

  “I shall do my best,” she said. “You have my word on that.”

  Her father nodded brusquely. “You are quite the young lady,” he said. It was as close to open affection as her father got. In fact, it might have been the highest compliment he had ever paid her. “I am certain that any man would be grateful to have you.”

  Julia bowed her head, grateful for the compliment.

  And just like that, the somber mood was broken. “Well then,” her father said. “I am off. Write to me frequently, my dear,” he added, directing his words at Julia’s mother. “You will receive my letters shortly.”

  “I await them with bated breath,” her mother said dryly.

  Julia had to smother a smile, for she knew that her mother secretly kept, carefully preserved, each letter that her father sent her.

  Her father exited, and her mother fixed Julia with a look.

  She had many looks. All of them managed to convey, in a single moment, a myriad of cutting thoughts.

  It was quite a talent. Julia wished that she herself had such a skill.

  “You will do as your father said,” her mother told her. “And it would please me if you would not trouble and tease the poor men too much.”

  Julia snorted. “Mother, if they cannot handle my teasing while we are at a single dinner, how ever will they handle me as a wife?”

  Her mother sighed, as though Julia were the bane of her existence. “Show yourself in your best light, that is all I ask. Your father has not put a time limit upon you but remember, I should like to see you wed before I am too ill to go.”

  Julia held in her groan of frustration.

  The clock, it seemed, was ticking.

  Chapter Two

  James Norwich was usually the sort who looked forward to dinner parties.

  He could freely admit that he was the sort of man who rarely found a reason to be serious. Not that he did not take things seriously when it was required.

  Rather, he tended to see things in an optimistic light and to find reasons for good cheer.

  Dinner parties were always an excellent opportunity to exercise the wit of which he was so fond. And the Weston dinners were his favorite of households.

  Mr. Weston had been James’s instructor when he was a boy. He had always been fond of the man, although James had learned he would not be there that night.

  Mrs. Weston was a woman of exceptional backbone and wit. James had grown up admiring her greatly and wishing for a mother like her. His own mother had been a vain woman.

  But it was Miss Weston for
whom he held the greatest of admiration.

  No, not even admiration. He would never breathe it to another soul but his fondness for the lady had taken even deeper roots nearly two years ago now.

  He could admit, to himself at least, that he was in love with her.

  Miss Julia Weston was a most singular woman. Well read, educated, lively, and witty. She brightened any room that she was in. She was fond of meddling and a bit mischievous. Perhaps a bit too much for some men. But to James, she was everything.

  He admired her strength and her strong moral determination. A few months ago he had the privilege of witnessing her, against all propriety, give the dressing-down of the century to her best friend’s suitor when he had done her wrong.

  The suitor had, of course, seen the error of his ways and wooed his lady properly. They were to be married shortly and Norwich had been invited to the wedding. He was quite looking forward to it.

  But the point still stood that Miss Weston had put herself at quite a risk addressing a gentleman in such a manner. But that had not mattered to her. What had mattered was that justice was done and her friend was protected.

  Norwich had hardly been able to contain his amusement and his pride in watching her.

  He had known the lady since she was quite young. And while she had never lost that youthful exuberance, he had come to be proud of the strong, intelligent, and determined woman that she was today.

  He would have proposed to her in a moment, if he had thought that he had half a chance.

  Miss Weston, however, had often made it clear that she viewed him as a brother. She teased and exchanged witticisms with him. She confided in him and was comfortable with him.