The small church on the grounds of Windemere Towers was full, decorated with large yellow gold roses and small bundles of golden harvest wheat. The morning sun shone over the harvest gold fields outside, and drew glints of gold from Lady Sylvia’s once blonde hair.
Their families and friends were there, including all of Charlton’s closest friends, the Hounds. Gisella, Julian’s sister, had not said much, but her eyes had filled with tears when she saw how happy he looked.
Julian felt himself the most blessed man on Earth. Not only had he found a woman to truly love, but she had given him back his heir, his daughter-in-law and his self-respect. And she had surrounded him with family – a delightful extended family that he had not expected, and who had already brought him more joy in this last few months than any of Antonia’s relatives had in twenty-five years.
She entered the church, and he could do nothing but watch her, drink her in with his eyes. She wore a simple gown of richest purple – no young girls’ pastels, but a colour to suit her, as she was.
A short time later, they left the church, man and wife, hand in hand, their hearts overflowing with joy. Well-wishers surrounded them, and the people of Bridgemere village, who had come to see not just the wedding, but the girl who had lived among them for years, but was now a Countess, swirled around, agog at all of the sights.
Jane drew Marion aside, and taking Daniel with them, they walked around the church to the graveyard. Standing by the simple headstone, marked only with the name ‘Mrs Marjorie Sutton’, Jane looked at Daniel, then spoke quietly to the grave.
“Mother, I was blind, but you knew – you knew that Julian’s blood ran in Daniel’s veins – he must have looked just like Julian did, as a small boy. I was too young then to remember, but you did. You kept calling Daniel ‘Julian’, and I though your mind was just wandering. Maybe it was. But maybe you knew better than I. Be at peace, knowing that we have found our rightful place.”
Marion bent and placed a single huge gold rose upon the grave, and they turned back to the festivities.
~~~~~
Charles stood to one side of the ballroom at Windemere Towers, talking quietly with a beautiful young woman who was dressing in half mourning. He watched the room full of happy people, and was at peace with himself.
For him, whilst Lady Sylvia and the Duke’s wedding had been everything one could hope for, the very best moment had been just a short while ago, when everyone had passed the receiving line, and been announced. Seeing Marion announced by her rightful title of Countess of Scartwick, and Daniel as the Earl of Scartwick, had healed something in him, that had festered for four years.
The gathered nobility had acknowledged them, and Marion had stood before them without fear. It was, indeed, a wonderful day. Now, dancing had begun, and the orchestra had just begun to play a waltz.
“I wish so that my mourning was over. I would love to dance again.” Maria’s voice was soft and sad at his side.
“It will not be much longer. I promise that there will be dancing, as soon as it can possibly be.” The look they exchanged said much, and no further words seemed necessary.
Charles turned back to watching the room, and was surprised to see that Baron Setford was dancing. From what Hunter and the others had said of him, that was a rather improbable thing to see. He was dancing with Lady Farnsworth – which was also interesting, as, from what Odette had said, her aunt had not danced in years. This was obviously a day for the unusual in all ways.
~~~~~
Sylvia and Julian slipped from the ballroom onto the balcony. The evening sky was turning that deep purple blue which comes just after sunset – the colour echoed the hue of her dress.
The full moon was already huge in the sky, and the golden harvest fields were silvered by its light, where they spread into the distance. Sylvia simply stood, looking out across the land, letting the feel of the place fill her.
“I like this place, Julian, it has a rightness about it. I will enjoy the time we spend here.”
Julian released his breath in an enormous sigh.
“I am so very glad to hear you say that. I grew up here, this estate is part of me. Yet I have spent little time here since I was a boy. And Antonia hated the place. You have given me yet another great gift with those words.”
She turned into his arms, smiling, and looked up into his eyes.
“Every day we have together is a gift. A gift that I had never imagined possible. I intend to treasure every second.”
“As do I.”
She felt the puff of air as he spoke, caressing her lips a second before he kissed her, and then everything else faded away, as she allowed sensation to take her.
The End
(You’ll find a taste of book 8, “Winning the Merchant Earl” just after the ‘About the Author’ section in this book!)
Arietta Richmond has been a compulsive reader and writer all her life. Whilst her reading has covered an enormous range of topics, history has always fascinated her, and historical novels been amongst her favourite reading.
She has written a wide range of work, from business articles and other non-fiction works (published under a pen name) but fiction has always been a major part of her life. Now, her Regency Historical Romance books are finally being released. The Derbyshire Set is comprised of 10 shorter novels (7 released so far) plus some short stories. The ‘His Majesty’s Hounds’ series is comprised of 13 novels, with the seventh having just been released.
She also has a standalone longer novel shortly to be released, and two other series of novels in development.
She lives in Australia, and when not reading or writing, likes to travel, and to see in person the places where history happened.
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His Majesty’s Hounds – Book 8
Sweet and Clean Regency Romance
Arietta Richmond
The morning sun was bright, reflecting off the snow that covered the roofs opposite, and casting a beam of glare through the partly open curtains of his room. A beam of bright light which happened to be perfectly placed to fall across Raphael’s face.
He shook himself out of slumber, squinting at the intensity of the light. He had slept late, knowing that, on this morning, he need not rush. He had given all of his staff the day off, as a surprise bonus, in celebration of his newest business success. It was Saint Valentine’s Day, and he hoped that each of them was spending the day with someone who was special to them.
He glanced at his side table, and, at the sight of the heart of antique lace that lay there, the events of the previous night came back to him, with a dream-like quality about them. It seemed improbable that they were real, yet he knew that they had happened. He had kissed her. His body heated at the thought, his mind reliving the moments when her body had been pressed to his, as she returned his kiss.
He had dreamed of such a moment for months. Last night it had been real. When the kiss had ended, they had drawn apart, both looking dazed by the intensity of the sensations it had raised in them. Then she had brought her fingers to her lips, touching them as if in wonder, smiled, and spoken softly. “I must go back to the parlour, before they wonder if I have become lost.”
Then she had simply turned, and left the room. He had not felt abandoned, but he had felt the loss of her presence acutely. She was right – at that particular time, she needed to return to join his mother, and hers, as well as his sister, in the parlour. A short while after, as his younger brother had already retired for the evening
, he re-joined the ladies. The kiss that had happened was a private thing between them. A thing to be savoured. What might happen next, he had not known last night, nor did he this morning.
They had finished their delightful evening soon after. Those last minutes had been difficult, for Raphael, and for Sera. Their eyes had kept finding each other, and it had been challenging to simply continue with polite conversation – but they had managed. Once Sera and her mother had departed for their home, Raphael had rapidly taken himself to bed, avoiding his mother’s obvious desire to talk – there would be time for that later.
Probably today, he thought, with a wry smile, as he rang for his valet, and prepared to face the day.
~~~~~
There was a tap on the door, and Mary entered quietly, immediately seeing to the fire, so that the room would be warm when Sera ventured out from under the bedclothes.
“I’ll just go and bring you some hot water to wash with, my Lady, I won’t be long.”
‘My Lady’ – Sera still found it odd to have a maid again, to be addressed that way again. For over a year, she had been mostly ‘Miss Sera’ to their neighbours in this merchant class district. Now, with their finances and dignity restored, to be addressed in a manner which actually befit her status, as Lady Serafine Parkington, seemed strange to her. But she was very glad of it. These past months had given her a new chance at life, had restored her mother’s health, and dignity. That she had achieved that by the unladylike pursuit of a business venture, in partnership with a gentleman of the merchant class, worried her not in the least.
At the thought of that business partner, Mr Raphael Morton, she found herself blushing, her whole body warmed by the memory of the previous evening. She had been beyond forward. She had risked everything on the hope that she had not imagined the warmth in his manner, on those few times when he had not tried to hide it. She had not imagined it. His response had been more than she had hoped for. He had accepted her gift, in a manner that left no uncertainty about how much he valued it. And then he had kissed her. She had dreamt of his kisses for months.
Last night’s kiss had been no dream, although, as she remembered it now, the whole evening seemed dream-like. She had no idea how they would go forward now, but the idea of finding out was exciting.
That society might disapprove of her choice of a man seemed irrelevant to her. They already disapproved of her family, thanks to the scandal brought about by her brother’s gambling, and subsequent suicide, over a year ago – what was a little more scandal compared to that?
Mary returned with a large basin of steaming water, and Sera slid from under the covers into the now warmed room, and set about preparing herself for the day.
~~~~~
Mrs Sophia Morton was enjoying a late breakfast with her two younger children. Gabriel was, like most young men on the cusp of becoming an adult, rather self-absorbed, and usually had little to say in response to his sister’s conversation. Isabella was, by contrast, very focussed on the world around her, and especially on other people.
Raphael, her oldest child, was now 25, and very much a man to respect. Sophia could only hope that, as Gabriel aged, he developed half the balanced approach to life that Raphael had – although, she could not wish upon Gabriel the circumstances that had caused Raphael to mature as he had. War was not something to ever wish for.
Raphael had, so far, shown little interest in other people, beyond business, his close companions from his time at war, and his family. But perhaps that was changing. Sophia smiled to herself, remembering the pleasant dinner of the night before.
She was certain that Raphael was beginning to regard Lady Serafine as rather more than a business partner.
She certainly hoped so. The girl was delightful – intelligent, beautiful and showed not a sign of the aristocratic pride and arrogance that so tarnished the character of many of the members of the ton. And she had survived in the face of the scandal that had hurt her family, with a courage that deserved respect.
“Mother, I have decided that I wish to attend more dinner parties. Last night was more fun than I expected. And… if we attend dinner parties elsewhere, perhaps there will be eligible gentlemen there…”
“Bella, just whose dinner parties are you thinking of? For to attend them, you will have to be invited to them, which will require us to know the hosts…”
Sophia repressed the urge to laugh – her daughter was rather impetuous at times, but her bright, outgoing personality was, mostly, charming.
“Oh. Do we know anyone who might hold a suitable party?”
“I will consider it for you – I am sure that we know a few people. But… eligible gentlemen? I thought that you were rather taken with young Arbuthnot?”
“I was… but I am not so sure that I like him anymore. He is not always as attentive as I would like. He doesn’t look at me the right way. I want him to look at me the way that Raphael looks at Lady Serafine, when he thinks that no-one will notice.”
“Oh, and how, exactly, is that?”
Isabella proceeded to look at her mother, producing a facial expression that was a hilarious interpretation of a lovesick puppy.
Sophia burst into laughter, and, after a few seconds, Isabella joined her. Gabriel attempted a look of supercilious boredom, but the twitch of his lips gave his true response away.
“And just what is the cause of this hilarity?”
Raphael went to the sideboard and loaded his plate with food, whilst waiting for the rest of his family to achieve something approximating decorum.
“I believe that could be said to be you, if a little indirectly.”
Gabriel managed not to join in the laughter when Raphael spun around to the table with a shocked look on his face, in response to Gabriel’s words.
“Me?”
“You.”
Bella had gone bright red in the face, and was looking remarkably guilty.
“I gather that we are laughing about something that Bella said about me? Please, do tell.” Raphael sat at the table, placing his food before him, and waited, watching his sister.
“I… I… nothing.”
Bella leapt up and fled the room. Sophia burst into laughter again. Raphael decided to ignore them all, glad that they were happy and laughing, even if he seemed to be the target of their humour. He proceeded to appreciate his food fully, wondering if there would be any sensible conversation at all.
Eventually, Sophia stopped laughing, took a sip from her tea, and looked at Raphael.
“I am sorry, but that was just so funny. Bella just graced us with her visual interpretation of the way that she believes you look at Lady Serafine. It was, perhaps, rather exaggerated.”
Raphael looked up from his food, startled.
“The way I look at Lady Serafine?”
“Yes. I gather that Bella believes you utterly besotted. Is she right?”
“I… er… I am not sure that ‘besotted’ is the right word. I most certainly hold her in a great deal of affection.”
Sophia simply nodded – her son would tell her his thoughts when he was ready.
For now, what he had said was a rather large admission, coming from him.
~~~~~
Sera found herself unsure of what to do with the day. It was months since she had been able to spend a day at leisure. Once, she would have had friends to visit – but those friends had proven to be fair weather friends – not true friends at all. Now, the circle of those she cared about was vanishingly small. She decided to see if her mother would like to visit the shops, if she needed anything.
The last few months, Sera had barely been at home, as she had worked, with Mr Morton, to make their business venture a success. Which it was.
Now they had funds to be warm, funds to be certain of their next meal, funds for new clothes, and for staff, even funds for a little frivolous shopping, should her mother desire it. And a carriage and driver to take them.
When Lady Galwood agreed that a visit to the mod
istes would be a good way to spend the day, Sera sent a message to Alf, asking that he bring the carriage to collect them at one of the clock. It as wonderful to be able to do so. She valued every part of her life now, in a way that she would never have done, before.
As she sat waiting for the carriage to arrive, Sera found herself daydreaming – thinking of Raphael, and that kiss. What would they say to each other when next they met? How would they go on now? How does one be a business partner to a man, when one wishes to be something rather more to him? It seemed that she would find out – for she certainly was not going to give up their business, or a chance at something ‘more’ with Raphael!
She settled to considering other occasions for which favours might be made, now that Saint Valentine’s Day was gone for this year. Surely she could imagine any number of circumstances in which a wealthy gentleman might wish to give the Lady of his choice a token of his love?
She did not get very far with those imaginings – her mind stubbornly turned to Raphael instead. In the end, the shopping was a pleasant distraction, but, in her heart of hearts, her greatest desire was the moment, on the following morning, when she would be in Raphael’s presence again.
There was just one niggling doubt – what if he felt differently today, in the cold light of day?
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“Winning the Merchant Earl”
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Claiming the Heart of a Duke
Intriguing the Viscount
Giving a Heart of Lace
Being Lady Harriet’s Hero
Enchanting the Duke
Redeeming the Marquess
(Coming Soon)
Healing Lord Barton (coming soon)
Finding the Duke's Heir: Sweet and Clean Regency Romance (His Majesty's Hounds Book 7) Page 10