Brides of London: Regency Romance Collection

by Alec, Joyce

  “You must have done so with a good deal of force,” the second Bow Street Runner said, his expression somewhat doubtful. “And there must have been some of his blood upon your person.”

  For a moment, Lydia feared that the Bow Street Runner would not believe what Lady Starling said, but the first man, Mr. Jones, merely tipped his head and looked back at Lady Starling for her explanation.

  “Anger gives one a good deal of strength, it seems,” Lady Starling said, her voice a little heavy. “The last thing I recall was seeing him fall to his knees. I believe his heavy landing on the floor pushed the knife in all the more.”

  “And the dark green of our gowns would have hidden any marks of blood, I am quite certain,” Miss Preston added, as her mother handed her a fresh handkerchief. “That is the explanation you are searching for, I think.”

  Lydia let out her breath silently, realizing that all the questions she had been wondering and thinking upon had finally been answered. Lady Starling had given herself up to the explanation of it, admitting her guilt and freeing both Lydia and Lord Ancrum from the matter entirely. She looked up at Lord Ancrum, seeing his expression fixed, his cheeks a little white. His eyes were focused on something on the other side of the room, although she doubted that he saw it. There was so much to take in, so much to consider, and she feared that it would take some time for them both to accept it.

  “I think, Lady Starling, that we should continue this discussion in another place,” Mr. Jones said eventually, his low voice breaking the silence. “There will be consequences for what you have done, although I am quite certain you are aware of that.”

  Lydia, aware of how difficult it would be to convict someone such as Lady Starling, who had both standing and wealth, closed her eyes and wondered silently what punishment would be offered. Lady Starling would not be hanged, as those in the lower classes would be, for such a thing would be entirely offensive to all of the beau monde. No, most likely Lady Starling would have to disappear entirely from London society. Where she would go, Lydia could not say, but they did not need to fear that she would ever again be a part of their lives.

  “Very well,” Lady Starling replied quietly, gathering herself and then turning around, moving towards the door as the Bow Street Runners followed. “Good day to you all.”

  Lydia rose to her feet alongside her betrothed, wondering at the strange manner of Lady Starling. It was as though she were merely saying goodbye after what had been a cordial visit, simply taking her leave of some acquaintances. She showed no sign of regret, did not ask Lord Ancrum to forgive her, and certainly did not want to make amends to Lydia. She had used them all to further herself, and now that it had all come crashing to the ground, there was nothing left for Lady Starling to cling to. Perhaps that was a punishment in itself.

  “My thanks to you both.”

  The door closed behind Lady Starling and Lord Ancrum turned to Lady Cuthbert and Miss Preston, who had finally finished weeping. “Without your courage, Miss Preston, I doubt we would have discovered the truth in its entirety. I hope you know just how courageous you have been.”

  Miss Preston rose and gave him a watery smile. “I am glad to be free of it now,” she admitted hoarsely, as her mother drew herself up beside her. “And I know I can trust you to keep what I have said to yourselves.”

  “As we must ask you also to do,” Lydia replied, giving Miss Preston a warm smile that she hoped would encourage her. “Thank you again, Miss Preston. You truly have saved us all.”

  Epilogue

  “You look resplendent this evening.”

  Joseph smiled to himself as Lydia blushed furiously, although her eyes were aglow with happiness.

  “Thank you, Lord Ancrum,” she replied softly, her hand already on his arm. “You look very dashing also.”

  He chuckled at this, patting her hand and walking with her towards his theatre box. The play was meant to be one of the best to be performed this Season, but Joseph did not much care for that. All he wanted to do was to spend time with his betrothed, for now that the ugliness of the past few weeks was behind them, he was able to see just how wonderful his life was about to become.

  “My mother is to attend with me,” Lydia reminded him with a rueful smile. “Although, she has not yet managed to tug herself away from her acquaintances, as you are able to see.”

  Joseph looked over his shoulder and saw Lady Templeton gesturing wildly about some such thing to three other ladies, who were all agog with curiosity. He could not help but increase the speed of his steps, almost pulling Lydia along with him in his haste.

  “She is telling everyone she knows about Lady Starling,” Lydia said, shaking her head as he led her into the box. “The truth has been suppressed as much as it can be, but it is well known now that Lady Starling has left for the continent. To leave England’s shores is significant indeed, especially without explanation.”

  “And no explanation will ever be given,” Joseph replied, his jaw firm. “I should not want anything more to come to light than has already been made known.”

  “No, indeed not,” Lydia concurred, “especially since we have agreed to protect Miss Preston.”

  Joseph nodded, turning to her and seeing just how she bit her lip. He did not like to see her do such a thing, wanting her to be freed from worry. “Come now, my dear,” he murmured, forcing himself not to think any longer of what had passed. “We must put Lady Starling from our mind and look towards our future.” The box was wrapped in shadow and, unable to prevent himself from going to her, he stepped closer and gently tugged her into his arms.

  A small gasp of surprise escaped her lips, although she looked up at him with obvious pleasure at their closeness.

  “I did not ever think that I would be able to redeem myself in your eyes, Lydia,” Joseph told her, wanting to make the most of this moment, wanting to speak the words that had been growing in his heart for so long. “You must know that I admire you. You must be able to see just how grateful I am to consider you my bride.” He pressed one hand against his heart. “I do not feel as though I deserve someone as wonderful as you.”

  “You have more than redeemed yourself, Ancrum,” she whispered, her hands reaching up around his neck as the shadows hid them from the ton’s watchful eyes. “Even from our first meeting, I found myself unable to remove you completely from my thoughts and now, as I stand here with you, I discover that I am unable to remove you from my heart.”

  Joseph’s brows lifted, his heart swelling within him. He had wanted to speak these words first but it seemed that Lydia had managed to begin before him.

  “I love you, Ancrum,” Lydia finished, her eyes searching his face as she spoke. “I do not think I could have kept myself silent any longer. It has been ten days since we last saw Lady Starling, and since that time, I have discovered that my heart has done nothing but yearn for you. It is filled with a love for you that I can barely find the words to express, but it is within me, nonetheless. And I have no doubt that it will grow all the more steadily with every day that passes.”

  He let out his breath slowly, a smile spreading across his face as he tugged her closer. “You have spoken the very same words I sought to say to you this evening, my love,” he said to her, seeing her face light up as he began to lower his head. “You have been my constant. You have trusted me when there was no need to do so. You have shown me patience, have offered me understanding and now, you offer me your heart.” He captured her face with his hands, feeling the softness of her skin and finding his heart aching with all that he felt for her. “I love you, Lydia, and it is a love that shall never be taken from me.”

  * * *

  A Viscount to Remember

  Brides of London

  Prologue

  She crept carefully towards the door, her feet barely making a sound. She was breathing rapidly, her heart beating with both pain and a desperate hope as she heard the murmuring of voices.

  It had to be him. He was here now, within the
house. He had said that he would speak to her guardian, had promised that he would do so just as soon as he could, and she had clung onto that promise with every bit of hope that she could muster. Her heart ached suddenly, her hands clasping together as she raised them to her mouth, closing her eyes where she stood and praying that he would be accepted.

  Her breathing quickened. She could hear them now, speaking together. The truth was within her, desperate to be spoken, desperate to be let out, and yet she could not say it, would not say it, until she knew he had been given permission. The affection she had for him would not disappear merely because she had waited another day before speaking to him of it, but the desire to tell him the truth about her deep, unrelenting feelings for him was growing steadily. A smile crossed her face as she opened her eyes and leaned against the wall, next to the door. It would not be long now, would not be long until she could share with him the truth of her heart.

  The door, being a little ajar, allowed her to hear what was being said without revealing herself. Surely there could be no reason for her guardian to refuse him. He was a kind, honest, and good gentleman, as far as she knew him, and would, she was certain, make an excellent husband. They would spend their years together in happiness, bound together by the cords of love.

  “I am sorry, but no.”

  Her heart stopped suddenly, forcing her to drag in a ragged breath. Her hands tightened together as a fist of ice gripped her heart.

  “I do not consider you suitable,” she heard her guardian say, hardly able to believe that such a thing was being uttered. “You cannot court her.”

  Her eyes slid shut, tears forming in them almost at once. She could hear the murmur of protest, could hear him trying to fight back against the determination, but knew her guardian well enough to know that there would be no reconsideration. He was a strong-willed man and once he had made a decision, there was nothing else for it. He had refused her the happiness she had been so desperate for, had refused to allow the only person she cared for to come any nearer to her.

  Tears burned in her eyes as she turned around, leaning heavily against the wall for a long moment as she fought to gain her composure. She could not linger here, could not see him now. Nor did she want to see her guardian, for the pain of his judgment lay heavily on her soul. She could not understand him, could not even think of his reasons for refusing what could have been a joyous union. The pain in her heart grew so great that she had to press one hand to her mouth for fear of crying out, forcing her feet to move as she stumbled back along the hallway and towards the stairs that led to her bedchamber.

  She was to be alone. She was not to be accepted into the arms of the man she loved. Her guardian had seen to that. He had ruined her one chance at happiness, for she would never feel such a thing for another, she was certain of it. His reasons did not matter, his thoughts did not interest her. All she felt was pain.

  Tears poured down her cheeks like rivers as she staggered to the staircase. She could not linger here, not now. To continue to live in the same house as the man who had denied her so much was not something she could even consider. Her life had to change now but she knew that the pain would still linger. It would be something she carried with her throughout her life until, mayhap one day, she would finally be able to find a way to hide it from herself.

  Her hope was gone, her heart was broken.

  There was nothing left.

  1

  “You have not been successful.”

  Miss Louisa Smallwood lifted her chin defiantly. “That is unfair, Father. You have given me no assistance in this matter.”

  Her father, Baron Churston, was a slight man with a rotund middle, a round, unlikeable face with brows that were constantly furrowed, thin lips, and dark brown eyes that were, at the present, fixed entirely upon his daughter.

  “That is not at all true!” the Baron exclaimed, throwing up one hand in evident disapproval. “I have aided you a great deal in finding a suitable gentleman, but no one has sought to court you and therefore, we are to return home.”

  There was a slight look of guilt in Lord Churston’s eyes, however, for he did not look directly at Louisa as he spoke, turning to the left just a little as if he found her presence rather trying. Louisa, who was trying her very best to stand up for herself and, in turn, refused to accept her father’s verdict, noted this with a little satisfaction.

  “That is not at all the case, Father, as well you know,” she stated with as much sternness as she could muster. “You have not introduced me to any gentlemen this Season. Not one. I have had to rely on my friend, Miss Grey, to do so.”

  Her father’s expression darkened all the more. “I believe you mean Miss Grey, the lady who is now engaged to one Lord Marchmont.” An accusatory brow lifted, as though Louisa ought to have found a way to become engaged also.

  “She is due to wed in a fortnight,” Louisa informed him. “But yes, it is she that I speak of. She has been the only one interested in encouraging my acquaintance with the gentlemen of the ton, whilst you, Father, have done nothing of the sort.” Louisa knew full well that without Miss Grey’s encouragement, she would never have found the confidence to speak to her father in terms such as these, having been somewhat quiet and accommodating in the months and years that had gone before. However, this year, her father had told her directly, and quite unexpectedly, that she was required to find a suitable gentleman and become engaged by the Season’s end, else she would never return to London again. Thereafter, he had commented that a gentleman near to his estate, one Sir Walton, might make her a suitable husband if she could not find someone with a better title and fortune.

  The thought had turned her stomach. Sir Walton was not a young man and had, thus far, had three wives, all of whom had died from some malady or other, although quite what these maladies had been, Louisa did not know. Her father and Sir Walton were very great friends and, at various times, had done each other favors or offered help when there was none. Louisa strongly suspected that her father had made the suggestion that Louisa might be Sir Walton’s next wife once Lord Walton had completed his mourning period which, no doubt, Sir Walton would have agreed to at once. It would mean that her father would no longer have to look after her or be required to pay for her upkeep. It also meant that this, therefore, would be her very last Season, for Sir Walton would be completing his mourning period by the end of the year.

  Louisa was not inclined to accept such a fate. She also suspected that her father had given her this final Season in the hope that she would be able to find a higher title and, therefore, a wealthier gentleman than Sir Walton but, having not held out a good deal of hope, had made very little effort to aid her.

  “You have not helped me as you promised, Father,” she stated firmly. “Therefore, you cannot expect me to do as you ask. I will not willingly return home.”

  Her father’s brows lowered. “You have never been so disagreeable before, Louisa,” he said disapprovingly. “When I tell you that your time in London is at an end, then you must obey.”

  “I will not.”

  Louisa drew in a ragged breath, steeling herself. Her father, clearly unused to his daughter being so disobedient and defiant, looked back at her in evident confusion, not at all certain what to do or say. Louisa knew she had to say more, had to state her case and demand that her father be of more assistance. Perhaps outright defiance was not the way to go about it, however. Mayhap she had to be a little more considered.

  “Father,” she said, taking a few steps towards him. “You want me to be married and settled, which I well understand. However, do you not wish me to make a suitable match? To find a gentleman who will bring this family honor? And not to mention that there would be a good deal more wealth also. To have your daughter joined to… shall we say, a baronet, is decent, of course, but to have her married to a viscount or even an earl would be a good deal better, would it not?”

  Her father’s brows lifted just a little.

  “Yes,” he
agreed slowly. “Yes, I believe it would. But Louisa, you have not shown any evidence of being able to capture the attentions of such a gentleman. I must therefore believe that a baronet or the like is all that you can achieve.”

  Louisa shook her head firmly, her heart sinking within her as she realized that her suspicions had been correct. “But you have given me no aid, Father,” she answered, reminding him again of his failings. “That is unfair. You have left me to my own devices and to my friend, Miss Grey, whom I can no longer rely upon in the same way.”

  Her father sighed heavily. “Mayhap I should find you a companion.”

  The idea was not entirely to Louisa’s liking, but it was, at least, a good deal more improved than her father insisting that they leave London in the middle of the Season.

  “It would certainly help me in my endeavors,” she replied cautiously, not quite certain whether her father was doing this for her benefit or for his. If he found a companion for her, then the onus would still not be on his shoulders when it came to finding her a suitable husband. “Have you someone in mind?”

  Her father shook his head, clearly having decided to give into Louisa’s demand that they stay in London for the remainder of the Season. Louisa could not help but smile, finding it difficult to hide her emotion. She would have to write to Miss Grey at once and tell her that her encouragement to be bold and to stand up for what she wanted had done wonders. Lord Churston clearly had very little idea of what he was to do with his daughter when she behaved in such a fashion. This had led to Louisa managing to not only stay in London for the rest of the Season but also having a companion, which would give her more independence and certainly aid her as she attempted to circulate throughout society a little more.

  “I am certain I can find someone very soon, however,” Lord Churston muttered, sitting down and slumping back in his chair, clearly no longer willing to try and fight his newly insolent daughter and betraying that singular lack of character that had been so often a part of his life. “We shall remain for the last two months of the Season, as you wish, Louisa. Thereafter, I think—”