Gentlemen and Brides: Regency Romance Collection

by Joyce Alec

  He said nothing, the turn of the carriage wheels on the cobbled streets the only sound. Esther wanted to cry but refused to allow a single drop of moisture to fall. She would not show any weakness to her father, would not allow another word to pass her lips.

  “Almost there,” her father jeered. “I am sure Lord Thompson will be expecting us.”

  A sudden sound of hooves met her ears as the carriage began to slow, and the sounds of shouting caused Esther’s spirits to lift. Had the Duke come for her?

  14

  Thundering down the street and pushing his stallion to its limit, Amos finally caught sight of the Bertram carriage, making its way towards Lord Thompson’s townhouse. Relieved, yet filled with rage, he spurred his horse on, hearing Bernard close behind him.

  "Esther? Esther!" he roared, riding alongside it and managing to catch a glimpse of her face before her father pulled the curtain closed. "Stop the carriage!" he shouted to the coach driver. "Stop it now!" Moving his horse directly into the path of the carriage, the driver had no choice but to rein the horses in, and slowly, the carriage stopped moving.

  Leaping from his horse, he threw open the carriage door, only to be thrown back as Lord Bertram punched him directly in the face. The force of the blow threw him backward, and, as he scrambled to his feet, he saw Lord Bertram was already dragging Esther from the carriage. Ignoring the blood pouring from his nose, he staggered to his feet and ran to them. Knocking himself bodily into Lord Bertram, he managed to loosen Lord Bertram's hold on Esther's arm and, pushing her behind himself, stood, ready to fight.

  “Get out of my way,” Lord Bertram snarled, waving his cane menacingly. “She’s my daughter; you have no right!”

  “She is betrothed to me,” Amos growled, his temper close to snapping. It was only by sheer force of will that he stopped himself from attacking the man. Glancing to his left, he saw Bernard stand next to Esther, putting an arm around her to help her stand without swaying.

  Lord Bertram's eyes shot from his daughter to Amos and then to Bernard. He knew there was no way he would be able to take on both men and get his unwilling daughter back. The game was up.

  "She belongs to me!" he screeched, his desperation beginning to show. "I need her!"

  “I am not a possession, Father!” Esther cried, tears streaming down her face. “You do not get to choose my husband. It is a choice I will make for myself! I do not belong to anyone, most of all, you.” She took a few steps forward, her hands closing around Amos’s strong one. Her touch took the edge of his rage as he placed his free hand on top of hers.

  “You are despicable,” Amos thundered, never taking his eyes from the Lord Bertram. "A man who would sell his daughter for his own selfish reasons. You disgust me."

  He turned away, gently pulling Esther with him. He had nothing more to say, and Lord Bertram could do nothing to stop them.

  "Can you ride?" he whispered, feeling Esther tremble. She nodded, allowing him to lift her into the saddle before he pulled himself up in front of her. "Let's go home," he said, turning his horse in the direction of his townhouse, feeling her wrap her arms around him as she leaned her throbbing head against his strong back.

  "Esther, my dear!" Agnes rushed towards her, her face pale and drawn with anxiety.

  Agnes grasped Esther’s hands as Amos helped her into a chair, his own face lined with concern.

  “Good heavens,” Agnes gasped, seeing Esther’s bloodied head and Amos’s nose. “Whatever’s happened?”

  “All in good time, Mother,” Bernard said, putting a gentle arm around her shoulders. “Let’s make sure they’re all cleaned up first; there will be time for questions later.”

  Agnes nodded, pulling out a tissue as she dabbed her goddaughter’s cheek. “Of course. Bernard, fetch some hot water.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Amos said, standing up.

  “No,” Esther cried, reaching for him. “Please, Your Grace, stay with me.”

  Amos sat next to her and held her hand. “Of course, I will stay with you. I just need to wipe the blood from my face. I must look quite a sight, and I’m afraid I will scare the servants!” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I promise I will be right back.”

  Esther nodded, her wide eyes showing the extent of her fear. “What if my father returns?”

  “He won’t,” Agnes replied, shooing Amos away. “Amos has all the doors locked, and I am quite sure he will not try anything, given the circumstances. For heaven’s sake, the man assaulted his own daughter!” She tried to smile, managing only to cry a little. “I should have kept a better watch over you.”

  Esther held her godmother’s hands tightly. “He came out of nowhere,” she whispered. “There was nothing anyone could have done.”

  “You are safe now,” Agnes replied, finally managing a tremulous smile. “I am sure Amos will never let you go again.”

  An hour had passed, and both Esther and Amos looked much more like their usual selves. Although, Esther was going to have a sizeable lump on her head for a few days. Esther felt herself growing tired and couldn’t hold back a yawn.

  Agnes rose to her feet, also showing signs of weariness. “You are quite sure you are well?”

  Esther smiled. “I am, Godmother. I will see you tomorrow.”

  Bernard took his mother’s hand. “Come, Mother, it is late. A lot has happened today, and you need to rest. The Duke has had a room prepared for you.” He lifted his hand in farewell as he led his mother from the room.

  There was a long silence, but this time, there was peace in Esther's soul. Amos sat next to her, and she had her hand in his, feeling the strength of his grip as he squeezed her hand.

  "Thank you, Your Grace," she said eventually, turning her body so she could look into his face. "I cannot imagine what would have happened if you had not rescued me."

  He smiled, moving closer and putting a gentle kiss on her forehead, his eyes taking in the beautiful expanse of her long blonde hair, now let down in its entirety, so as not to pain her head further. “Do not think of it, my love. Nothing can come between us now. And if you are to be my wife, we can do away with formalities. Please, call me Amos.”

  Esther let out a long, luxurious sigh, reveling in the tranquility she felt as he held her close.

  “You will marry me, won’t you, Esther?”

  She pulled back a little out of his embrace to look up at him as she gave her response, “Amos, I think my answer is quite obvious.”

  A smile spread across his lips. He lowered his head and kissed her softly, running his fingers through her loose curls at her temples. Esther's heart swelled at his tenderness, feeling him hold his passion firmly in check.

  “Tomorrow?” he whispered against her mouth.

  “Tomorrow,” she replied, taking possession of his lips once more.

  Epilogue

  Amos held his breath as he saw Esther walk down the aisle towards him, stunned at her beauty. She looked like a floating angel, practically glowing as she walked towards him, a gentle smile on her lips. Letting it out in a rush, he gazed into her eyes as she took his hand, marveling at how his wife-to-be had managed to fill the empty place in his heart.

  For so long, he had searched for love, refusing to take a mistress even though his search had lasted for years and his patience had often worn thin. It had been worth it, he thought to himself, turning towards the vicar. She had been worth it.

  The bishop had, of course, granted him a Special License as soon as he heard the details both from Amos and Bernard. Amos was now ready to make his vows before God and his witnesses—Bernard and Agnes.

  Esther felt a lightness of heart as she held onto Amos's warm hand. It was a joyful ending to what had been a terrible time in her life. The man she had admired from afar had now become her protector, savior, and husband, and she thanked God for His blessing.

  Amos smiled into her eyes as he made his vows. “I, Amos Graybury, Duke of Hawdon, take thee, Lady Esther Mary Bertram, to be my lawful wedded
wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto, I pledge thee my troth.”

  In a soft voice, Esther repeated the same words to Amos, her breath hitching as he placed a ring on the third finger of her left hand. She could hardly believe it, seeing it catch the light as it sparkled on her finger. She was now the Duchess of Hawdon.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the vicar intoned. “You may kiss the bride.”

  Instead of the customary kiss on the cheek, Amos wrapped his arms around his new wife and kissed her thoroughly, speaking to her of passion, of desire, and of love. A little abashed, she smiled at him as both Bernard and Agnes clapped and cheered, giving their congratulations to them both.

  “I love you, Esther,” Amos whispered in her ear.

  She turned to him, lifting her hand to his cheek. “I love you, Amos,” she replied, a beautiful sheen of tears in her eyes. “And I promise to love you forever.”

  “I will love you forever and a day,” he replied, holding her close and kissing her once more.

  THE END

  An Earl and a Wedding

  An Earl and a Wedding

  Text Copyright © 2018 by Caroline Johnson

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First printing, 2017

  Publisher

  Love Light Faith, LLC

  400 NW 7th Avenue, Unit 825

  Fort Lauderdale, FL 33311

  www.LoveLightFaith.com

  1

  England, 1818

  Lady Virginia Croft was having breakfast with her mother, Sophia, The Dowager Countess of Deyonne, who was worried about her daughter's countenance.

  "Ginny, darling, why don't you go for a ride this morning?" she suggested. "It would do you a world of good to return to normal. It's been six months now, and I think it's time that you began to live your life again."

  Virginia, or Ginny, as she was known to her family, squirmed in her seat. She had been expecting this day to come, and no matter how she prepared herself, she was still surprised. Ginny lowered her head. It wasn't the done thing to become visibly upset, but she couldn't help herself as her throat tightened. Her voice was quiet as she spoke.

  "Yes, Mama, I will try. But I do not feel ready to ride today. Perhaps some other time."

  Ginny placed her knife and fork on her plate. The dowager countess shook her head as she had watched Ginny move her breakfast from side to side on the plate without eating a single bite. Worryingly, she hadn't been near the stables since that fateful day either. Not even to see her horse, Bathsheba, whom she had for years.

  "Ginny, your brother returns home today with his new wife, so we must welcome your new sister into the family."

  Ginny was in no humor to be welcoming. She was stuck in a time warp while the rest of the world moved on. Her brother, Charles, was Earl of Deyonne, and his new bride was an American heiress he had met in London. Life was supposed to have been different. Ginny was supposed to be Countess Lanzaby, but life didn’t turn out how she had planned.

  No one ever knows what's around the corner, she thought. One minute someone is there, life is going to plan, and the next thing, they're not.

  Excusing herself, she went to her bedroom. It was her sanctuary. As soon as she closed the door, she began to cry. How could she possibly be happy for others when her love was taken from her? She remembered that day when Henry, her fiancé, had arrived. There was a gathering at the house for a hunt and she rode out on Bathsheba with Henry by her side. All she thought that day was how in another few weeks, they would be married. Life was perfect that morning.

  As they dashed across the fields, Ginny was laughing as she was ahead of Henry. She jumped over a difficult hedgerow that was decidedly deceptive in its width. She turned around to smile at her beloved only to see him flung from his horse who hadn't taken kindly to the jump. She jumped off Bathsheba and ran towards Henry, but she knew by the way his neck was twisted and his eyes wide open that he was severely injured. It all happened in slow motion. Others gathered around him, and Ginny made her way through. She remembered calling his name as though willing him to jump up and come back to her. But he was dead.

  Ginny hadn't ridden since, nor even visited the stables. As a child, she would always disappear to them, telling the horses her secrets and fears. It used to be her haven, but now it was too painful a place to visit.

  Bathsheba had been the first one to know of her love for Henry, whom she had met at Almack's the previous year. It was her debut to society, and she had enjoyed every moment of the balls, the gowns, and visiting Paris beforehand. Bathsheba had been the first one to know when Henry told her he wanted to marry her, and she had described to her horse their new home.

  “It will be wonderful,” she remembered saying. “So much happiness after so much sadness.”

  Her father had died two years previously, and her mother was anxious for her to marry as soon as she came of age so she would not be a burden on her brother.

  Now Charles was returning home with his wife, and Ginny would be expected to perform.

  She was awakened from her thoughts by a knock on her door, and Ginny dried her eyes and said, "Come in."

  It was her lady's maid, Dawson, whom she had acquired during her shopping trip to Paris.

  "Excuse me, m’lady," she said. "But Her Ladyship has asked me to prepare you for His Lordship's return." Dawson curtsied to her.

  "Dawson, could you come back later?" Ginny replied. "I need to rest."

  "Do you have another headache, m’lady?" Dawson came over to place her hand on Ginny's forehead. "You don't feel clammy, but I will help you to bed and come back in a little while. Do you wish anything else?"

  "No, thank you, Dawson."

  Ginny pulled the covers over her head as Dawson closed the curtains. With Dawson gone, Ginny's crying returned. She cried for Henry but also for the loss of the life she was going to have. Ginny was lucky that she had loved him. She hadn't wanted to marry just for life security. She was a romantic at heart. She knew her mother wanted her to get past her sadness, but how could she ever love again? She couldn't open her heart to that kind of heartbreak again. The mourning period was over, and it was time for Ginny to return to normal. She reckoned it was probably easier if there was no love between people. Time hadn't healed anything for her.

  "M’lady, it’s almost time. We have received word that the earl and the countess will be here within the hour."

  "Oh, Dawson, I must have fallen asleep. What time is it?"

  "Time to get up, m’lady, or you won’t hear the end of it. Her Ladyship was quite annoyed when I told her you needed to rest."

  "Very well, Dawson. What has Mama chosen for me to wear today?"

  Ginny’s mother had already chosen her ensemble. The new countess may have been a Southern belle, but the dowager countess was now going to show her the hospitality of the British.

  Ginny made faces as Dawson pinned her hair. It had been so long since she was formally attired that she had forgotten the rigors of dress. However, as she looked at herself in the mirror, she had to admit it was nice to be dressed up again.

  "Dawson, you have done a splendid job."

  Dawson smiled at her mistress.

  "You have lost so much weight, m’lady, that I had to take your dress in at the sides."

  "I didn't notice."

  There was a lot Ginny hadn't noticed in her grief, but there was no time to dwell. She joi
ned her mother and the staff as they prepared to welcome the newlyweds. As if on time, the carriage came up the long drive. Ginny felt butterflies in her stomach and looked to the sun and closed her eyes to steady herself. It was good to feel the warmth of the sun on her face.

  The carriage stopped, and the footman opened the door. The earl stepped out.

  "Mama, Ginny, how beautiful you both look!" He greeted his mother and sister.

  "I am pleased to introduce my wife, Annabelle, the Countess of Deyonne."

  "Charles, my, my, you didn't do this place justice. I believe I'm living in a real life castle." Annabelle looked up at the castle in awe.

  "Pa would love this." She didn't seem to notice the staff. And worse still, she didn't notice Her Ladyship or Ginny. Ginny rolled her eyes at Charles who pretended not to take any notice.

  "Belle, come and meet Mama and my sister."

  "Do forgive my manners, Your Ladyship. It is a pleasure to meet you, and you must help me with becoming a countess. And Virginia, I do hope we can become sisters."

  Ginny wasn't convinced as her new sister-in-law walked off again. It was not going to be easy dealing with the new energy in the house. In fact, Ginny had isolated herself so that she no longer received any visitors. Her friends didn't know how to be so sad in her company, especially when they had news to tell her, and they had grown weary of upsetting her. Her grief took some of the happiness from their news of engagements and marriages. They wanted to discuss the latest fashions and gossip about each other. Ginny wasn't fun anymore.

  Realizing that the new countess wasn't truly interested in her, Ginny returned to her room. One small step at a time, she told herself. The American way would take some getting used to.

  The following two weeks passed in a breeze. Ginny had seen little of the new countess, who was busying herself on making changes to the castle. Charles was in love and agreed to whatever his wife wanted.