The Forbidden Valentine: Lady Eleanor Hawthorne: Regency Romance Novel (Heart of a Gentleman Book 5)

by Isabella Thorne

  Eleanor spent a near intolerable afternoon with Lord Rumfort, sitting and smiling and oh so politely sipping tea. All of the while her thoughts were far away with the poetry society where even now, she might share some discourse on Coleridge or Milton.

  Perhaps the society would be discussing some of Lord Byron’s more heated poems. Those which may not be read aloud in mixed company; Eleanor flushed to think of them, though perhaps she might borrow a line or two for her next letter to Lord Firthley, if she so dared. Although her previous letter still remained hidden in her room; sealed but unsent. Eleanor sighed and her mother eyed her sharply.

  How could she be expected to entertain a gentleman when the whole of her heart belonged to Lord Firthley? Still under her mother’s scrutiny Eleanor attempted to be polite. She smiled when she was spoken to and made the appropriate responses as Lord Rumfort droned on about his estates, or his gardens or some other equally boring subject which Eleanor did not remember. She extended only the barest of curtsies and Lily was not much better, causing their mother no doubt, to despair of them both.

  When the time finally came for Lord Rumfort to make his farewells, Eleanor felt she might leap with joy. She stood to excuse herself before the man was halfway out the door. Lily caught her hand and sighed. “That was exceedingly tedious,” Lily said unnecessarily. “If Mother is looking for me I will be in the library.”

  Eleanor nodded as Lily fled, and thought to go up to her own room for sanctuary, but before she could escape, Angley announced another visitor, Missus Lavinia Hartfield.

  Eleanor’s heart lightened immediately. She was tremendously thankful that she had such a clever friend as her sometime chaperone. Lavinia must have made some excuse to visit this evening. Eleanor would be able to send her letter to Lord Firthley after all and Lavinia would come bearing Lord Firthley’s own correspondence.

  Eleanor hastened to greet her friend, rushing through the niceties. Mother gave her a hard look that meant that she would have to account for her coolness to Lord Rumfort, but Mother would never say anything in front of another guest. As long as Lavinia was here, she was safe from her mother’s chiding.

  “Come upstairs,” she said to Lavinia. “I want to show you the new hat that Grace and Betty found for me. It is lovely, and matches my blue morning dress.”

  Grace beamed at her older sister. “I did not think you noticed,” she said.

  “Of course I noticed,” Eleanor said smiling. She did sincerely like the hat, but right now, she could only think of the letter that Lavinia must have in her reticule. She beckoned Lavinia upstairs, inside her room, and shut the door behind her.

  “What news?” she breathed, spinning on her heel.

  “Calm, my dear.” Missus Hartfield smiled at Lady Eleanor’s enthusiasm as she opened the door the armoire and examined the blue dress and the hat.

  “Lavinia!” she called. “Do not be cruel.” Lady Eleanor could not be calmed. She was veritably bouncing on the bed as the anticipation that she had been holding back all through tea came spilling forth in abundance.

  “Tell me it is more than a line,” she pleaded.

  “To be certain,” Lavinia smiled. “It is a practical novel.”

  With a sigh Lavinia pulled a thick packet of folded parchment from the pouch at her wrist and tapped it against her lips.

  “Your Lord Poet had occasion to slip me this himself as I attended the reading this afternoon,” she said. “The gentleman has grown bold.”

  Lady Eleanor reached for the letter, but Missus Hartfield held it out of her range. She offered the letter to her counterpart, but did not yet release it to Eleanor’s hand. “You must discover the truth of your feelings, Lady Eleanor and if it is anything less than love, put an end to it.”

  “Oh but I do love him.” Eleanor cried. “He occupies all my thoughts, the sole subject of my affections. I care not what anyone may say of him. I will accept no other.”

  Lavinia nodded knowingly and handed Lady Eleanor the letter.

  My Dearest,

  As much as I love gazing upon you face and listening to your discourse, as much as I adore holding the letters you have writ in my hands. I desire nothing more than to hold the living breathing you in my arms. I beg for just one dance.

  The heat that single line brought to her body was like a raging fire, but she had no idea how to quench it. She could not dance with him. It was impossible.

  I know, society claims that this cannot be, but I refuse to agree to it. How does one move forward with life once a person has discovered love? How should they live without? Would they live without sustenance? Would they live without air to breathe? I could not bear it. I will not, and do not believe you wish it so. Tell me you do not. Please say that I am not alone in this passion.

  I love you. There. I have written it. My soul lay bare upon the page, with no line or verse to disguise it. I declare my love and submit all to your hold on me. I am loathe to think that by the ease of our parting, the ease it may bring to our families, I might come upon you one day hence, on the arm of another whom you tolerate for the sake of propriety. What joy can there be in that? What life? There can be none without you my beloved.

  Yours,

  DWF

  “He loves me?” Eleanor whispered aloud nearly overcome with joy. Her hands shook as she snatched up ink and paper that she might pen an immediate reply, her tears blotting the page.

  Dearest of my Heart;

  Oh but your words of love on paper bring joy to my heart, yet I wish mine own ears could hear them spoken aloud. I long for that day. Until then I return your love written here in pen and ink, my own soul bared. Be assured, I love you with every fiber of my being. For now, I can say no more. This letter needs be brief so that you might at once see my declaration written upon it.

  I love you. A thousand times over, I do.

  Your beloved,

  EAH

  Eleanor waited for the ink to dry, folded the paper, and sealed it to be sent with her original correspondence.

  Lavinia rehung the blue dress she had been examining, kindly allowing Eleanor a moment to absorb Lord Firthley’s words. Eleanor handed Lavinia the letters to deliver, while still holding Lord Firthley’s to her breast.

  “I cannot live without him, Lavinia.” Eleanor said. Her voice laden with passion, “I will not.”

  ~.~

  The Forbidden Valentine

  ~Part 3 ~

  Chapter Sixteen

  On the way home from yet another poetry meeting, Eleanor quietly read Lord Firthley’s latest letter. As the carriage went over winter rut in the road, Eleanor clutched at the letter, and lost her place. The winter snows had played havoc with the roads. Eleanor found her place again and began to read.

  My Dearest Love;

  Perhaps this occasion is our hope to at last be in each other’s arms. The Keegain family hosts their annual St. Valentine’s Day Ball. It is a masquerade. To my knowledge, neither my family nor yours have ever attended.

  This year, I have embraced the courage of a lion and unbeknownst to my family, have made plans to attend. I shall refuse all and find new acquaintances or I embrace yours alone. I have spoken to some acquaintances and per their recommendations; I shall have an invitation sent to you and your sisters. To see you even incognito would be the highlight of the Season. I cannot forget the elation I felt at out last meeting brief though it was. I see your violet eyes in my dreams and cannot mistake them. Whether you are able to attend or no, know that I will be, as I always am, thinking of you my beloved.

  Yours,

  DWF

  Eleanor looked down at the note in her hands and addressed Lavinia who sat in the carriage beside her. “He speaks of a ball. He says that neither of our families typically attend, so there is little reason for Mother and Father to forbid me from going. If I were to attend with my sisters, well except for Betty, my parents cannot have any objection.” Eleanor glanced up. “Everyone of note will be there and Mother does so want to ma
rry me off.”

  “Not to a Firthley,” Missus Hartfield corrected her.

  “No. Not to a Firthley.” Eleanor agreed, but she would not allow her spirits to be dampened. “Oh Lavinia, this is so exciting. It is a masquerade ball held by The Earl of Keegain. You are friends with The Countess are you not? Do you know of the ball?”

  “I am close friends with Lady Keegain’s sister.” Lavinia answered. “And I attended the annual St. Valentine’s Ball last Season.”

  “So then you will be invited this year as well.”

  “I will.” Lavinia confirmed.

  Eleanor could barely contain her delight. She had an opportunity to meet with Lord Firthley again, this time perhaps for an entire evening.

  “Oh I do hope we may attend, and that you can chaperone. I shall be on pins and needles until we receive the invitation.”

  “You will have to be careful,” Lavinia warned. “But a masquerade ball may be just the thing. No one will know you are a Hawthorne or that he is a Firthley.”

  “Although, we shall need to steer clear of my mother’s watchful eye, that is if she attends,” Eleanor said. “I would not wish that she might be feeling poorly, but it will be a challenge to keep Mother occupied, if she should come.”

  “Perhaps your sisters can be of some assistance in keeping Lady Hanway engaged,” Lavinia suggested.

  “And Father will probably come as well,” Eleanor said with a scowl.

  “Do you not think he will play at cards with the other older gentlemen?” Lavinia asked.

  “Perhaps he could be persuaded.”

  The two women began their plans in earnest for the Keegain St. Valentine’s Ball.

  “I shall have to decide what to wear,” Eleanor said. “I do hope the invitation comes soon. I shan’t be able to calm my nerves. You will help me, Lavinia?” Eleanor pleaded reaching out to take the hand of her friend and sometime chaperone.

  “You know that I will. Your gown must be something distinctive so that your Lord Poet may find you,” Lavinia suggested, “but not so distinctive that you will be noticeable to others of the Ton.”

  Eleanor nodded as she tucked the letter into her own reticule to read again later.

  When Eleanor arrived home, the invitation to the St. Valentine’s Day Ball was waiting with the evening post and her sisters were all atwitter.

  The Earl of Keegain has invited us to his Valentine’s Ball,” Betty gushed. “Well, not me, of course, but you. All of you! Isn’t it grand?”

  “It is a masquerade ball,” Grace said excitedly. “Whatever shall we wear? Shall we coordinate as sisters or each go our own way?”

  “Oh, coordinate I think,” Eleanor said. “It is so much more fun that way.”

  “Mother says we haven’t much time to employ a seamstress,” Lily added. “She has gone to pen a note to her straight away. Mother hopes the seamstress can come to fit us tomorrow so we must decide quickly upon our costumes.”

  “What about flowers in a garden,” Eleanor suggested. “Eye catching and colorful. The yellow fabric Mother bought would make a lovely daffodil for you, Grace.”

  “I could be a lily,” Lily said with a smile. “It is witty, and perhaps then the gentlemen will remember my name.

  “Oh, it all sounds so exciting,” Betty sighed. “I wish I could come.”

  “It is more exciting than you know Betty.” Eleanor said mysteriously and motioned her sisters closer. She simply had to tell them. It was safer that her sisters knew what she was about. Perhaps they would be able to help and Eleanor knew the other girls would not give her away. “I have a secret to share,” Eleanor whispered to her sisters. “It is Lord Firthley who arranged for us all to be invited.”

  “He will be there?” Betty said, eyes wide.

  Eleanor nodded, nearly beside herself with anticipation.

  “Then what is most important,” Betty said “is what you wear Eleanor. It must be something extraordinary.”

  “Something elegant,” Lily said.

  “Something wonderful,” Grace added

  Something memorable, Eleanor thought to herself. She knew that the chance to spend even a portion of an evening with Lord Firthley was a night to be remembered forever.

  “Oh, I do hope so,” Eleanor said aloud.

  ~.~

  Later that evening Eleanor spoke with Missus Hartfield most seriously. “I can hardly believe I will be able to see him, talk to him, perhaps even dance with him.”

  Eleanor clutched the letter close, her heart beating hard. “I can almost imagine his arms around me. Oh, Lavinia, do you think we will be able to waltz?”

  “Certainly, you will be able to dance. I am not sure of a waltz. That will depend upon your costumes I would think,” Lavinia said. “Something that is not too showy that will be best to conceal your identity. Nonetheless, the waltz would be dangerous should you be recognized.”

  Eleanor nodded.

  “Have you spoken to your sisters about the ball?” Lavinia asked. “Have you decided what you shall wear?”

  “Briefly,” Eleanor answered. “I do have to be careful how much I share about Lord Firthley with my sisters though.”

  “Do you not trust your sisters?” Lavinia asked.

  “Of course I do. They should never betray my trust. At least not intentionally.” Eleanor considered Grace had tendency to stick to what was proper, but even Grace seemed excited, and she would not tell tales. Eleanor lifted a shoulder. “Words slip from Betty’s mouth somewhat unbidden,” she said with a frown. “Still Mother takes all she says with a grain of salt. She is the baby.”

  “Do you have another letter for me to take tomorrow?” Lavinia asked.

  “Not as of yet. I shall write it tonight, and bring it back to you.”

  The words seemed to pour from Eleanor’s pen. It was quite late before finished her missive.

  Dearest of my Heart;

  My chaperone says my costume must not be conspicuous, and I think that my sisters and I will plan a floral garden; surely flowers are inconspicuous. However, I do but I fear you will not find me among all the other flowers who may be in attendance. Mother says the Countess never invites less than half the Ton for she only offers the ball but once per season. I wonder, can you find me amidst a thousand others? Our claim to be none-the-wiser as to the identity of our masked fellows shall allow for much of the night to be spent at each other’s side.

  Though I must admit, Mother has already begun to schedule my introductions for the event. If she continues, she shall fill the whole of the evening! But I shall not allow it. I shall fulfill my duty and then return to you for the cotillion, at least. I fear we dare not waltz, so says my chaperone, so if it shall not be you, I shall save it for my brother alone, though my thoughts and my love shall all be yours

  Your Beloved,

  EAH

  My Dearest Love;

  If this be our one night together, allow me the waltz, I pray you. Hold it for me if you may. We shall be a lion and a flower in one another’s arms, not a Montague and a Capulet.

  Yours,

  DWF

  Dearest of my Heart;

  Our night is nearly here. I can hardly await the morrow. My hands shake as I pen this letter. Oh how shall I comport myself, if I might meet a dashing young fellow at the masquerade. I shall be waiting for you, the shy butterfly amongst the flower garden, bright in color, jeweled wings looped about my arms.

  We know not if there shall be other butterflies and other lions. For this reason, you shall comment on the fine quality of the champagne, for we know that The Earl, in solidarity for our boys at war, shall serve none of the wine of the Champagne region, nor wine from any region of France. With these secret words from your lips, there shall be no mistaking that it is my love, come to save me.

  Your Beloved,

  EAH

  ~.~

  Chapter Seventeen

  David Firthley was not sure what he would have done without his cousin Harry.

 
; “Drat,” he said as he knotted the tie which held on the lion’s mane for the third time. “I can tie a cravat with my eyes closed,” he said as he picked at the cords. “You would think I could manage these silly strings.”

  “Calm down, man,” Harry said. “I think you should have another drink before we go. You are shaking like a virgin on her wedding night.”

  David glared at his cousin, who chuckled.

  “I should have my wits about me,” David said, eschewing any alcohol. “Bloody hell. Now the blasted thing is in a knot.”

  Harry laughed, the bells of his fool’s hat jingling. “You should have had Beaton dress you,” he said as he stood to help unknot the ties.

  “To do so I would have to return home, and I shall not do so until Father relents. I can manage perfectly well without a valet.”

  “And I see where you get your stubbornness,” Harry teased. “Pray tell, how did you acquire the costume?”

  “Well, Beaton ordered the costume,” Firthley admitted. “But believe me he would have given me the evil eye the entire time, had he outfitted me. I was not willing to bear it,” David said as he waited for his cousin to untangle the strings. “I am lucky the man has kept my confidence this long.”

  “He is your man,” Harry argued.

  “And he has been with my family for years.” David replied. “Beaton knows of the feud between the Firthleys and the Hawthornes. He is in fact the one who first told me the true nature of the matter. He went along with my ‘infatuation’ as he calls it for as long as he could convince himself that my involvement with Lady Eleanor was only a lark. Now he is worried.”

  “As he should be,” Harry said. “You are head over heels for the chit and you know that…”

  “Not you,” David said leveling a finger at his cousin. “I will not hear censure from you, Westlake”