The Seymour Siblings (Fiona Miers' Regency boxsets Book 2)

by Fiona Miers

  “Do not dare speak of things of which you have no knowledge,” Lizzie exploded. “Every single tale Lord Dorset has spread of me is false. I am not a promiscuous woman, but I do not require anyone to believe me. I don’t give a fig what anyone thinks of me, least of all you. You know nothing of life, and I pity you more than anything.”

  As Margaret’s eyes widened in shock, Lizzie whirled around and moved to the refreshment table. She grabbed a bottle of wine, not caring in the least how unladylike she appeared, and stomped out of the ballroom towards the terrace. She rushed down the narrow steps and disappeared into the night, still clutching the wine.

  2

  Carson made his way through the ballroom, leaving the whispers of the gossips behind. He had witnessed the verbal confrontation between Lizzie and Lady Margaret along with her group of ignorant and judgmental ladies. In his opinion, they were anything but ladies. They were cruel and unkind.

  He had not imagined however, that Lizzie would ever speak such harsh truths to Lady Margaret, or anyone else, for that matter. She was clearly fed up with Lady Margaret, or everything that she was going through had finally caught up with her.

  He had known of the situation that involved Lizzie and Lord Dorset, but after a lengthy discussion with Will, he knew there was no truth to the rumours being spread, much to his great relief. He could not bear the thought of Lizzie being with another man, especially not one such as Lord Dorset.

  He’d had feelings for Lizzie since he was a young boy, but he had never felt he could measure up. She was the daughter of a duke, and despite his own family’s reputation and status, he was convinced that she was much too good for him. She deserved to be courted by a man with a title, not someone like him.

  It had pained him through the years as he watched her be courted by young gentlemen, but he had remained silent. He’d kept his feelings to himself, and at the time he was convinced it was better that way. But he had spent many of his nights thinking of Lizzie and imagining what his life would have been like had he possessed the courage to make his feelings known.

  However, the thought of her rejecting him was one of his worst fears.

  Despite his general confidence, the only fear he possessed was watching the woman whom he’d loved for most of his existence live a happy life without him.

  The cool night air brushed against his face as he stepped onto the terrace and caught sight of Lizzie, who steadily stomped towards the hayloft, clutching the bottle of wine she had pilfered from the refreshment table. He had never seen her act as erratically as she had tonight, but he didn’t blame her in the least. He was uncertain of exactly what Lady Margaret had said to her, but it had to have been rather upsetting for her to retaliate in such a way.

  Carson descended the narrow steps that led to the side of the manor house, and in the distance, he saw Lizzie. He didn’t wish to call out to her, but instead followed her to the stable. She went inside and left the door ajar, allowing him access a few moments later.

  The space was dark, but numerous beams of bright moonlight shone through the openings of the loft, illuminating the inside in its silver light. Carson stepped inside and immediately noticed Lizzie seated on a bale of hay. The expression on her beautiful face was sad as she glanced down at the open bottle of wine. Her shoulders were slumped and there was an air of defeat about her that he could not reconcile with the Lizzie he knew.

  As he took a step closer, the door banged behind him. He froze, and Lizzie glanced up at him.

  Carson held his hands up apologetically. “My apologies, my lady.”

  “No need to apologize.” Lizzie sighed. “What are you doing here, Carson?”

  “It appears formalities have left us,” Carson grinned.

  “It is only for appearances, you know that,” Lizzie said. “We passed formalities a long while ago.”

  “We left them behind as soon as you threw me in the pond,” Carson pointed out.

  “You threw an innocent frog at me,” Lizzie defended, sitting up straighter.

  “Perhaps your actions were justified then.” Carson chuckled. “May I join you?”

  “You went to all the trouble to follow me here, so you may as well take a seat.” Lizzie shrugged as she took a sip of wine from the bottle.

  Carson approached the bale of hay and as he sat down beside Lizzie, she passed the bottle to him. He took it from her and sipped from the opening, then cringed at the bitter taste of the beverage. “Couldn’t you have chosen a better-tasting wine?”

  “You ought to be grateful I am sharing it with you,” Lizzie countered, and playfully slapped him on the arm as she took back her bottle. “Why did you follow me?”

  “I noticed your encounter with Lady Margaret, and I wanted to see if you were all right,” Carson answered.

  “I am perfectly well. Margaret is a silly and foolish woman who doesn’t know anything about anything,” Lizzie answered. “I am well.”

  Carson nodded and glanced around him, not believing her for one moment. “Which is why you retreated to the stables in a cloud of dust with an entire bottle of wine.”

  “It was rather theatrical of me, was it not?” Lizzie cringed.

  Carson smiled encouragingly at her, wanting more information.

  “But I’m all right, Carson. I don’t understand why people relish the idea of spreading rumours about someone, especially when they are false. It is uncouth and hurtful,” Lizzie answered.

  He didn’t have a good answer for that. “Margaret is a foolish woman, as you said.”

  Lizzie sighed and shook her head. “It is not only her. Lord Dorset was the one who started it all, spreading lies about the two of us. Who in their sober minds would do such a terrible thing?”

  Carson watched as Lizzie drank from the wine bottle for a few moments, then took it from her. “Men such as Dorset need to tell tales to make them feel better about themselves. He feels the need to belittle and degrade others to make himself seem superior. It is ego, which is a dangerous problem to have because it can ruin lives, as my you are already aware, my lady. You must always remember when it comes to people like Dorset, you are not the problem, Lizzie. He is.”

  Lizzie glanced him with a hint of a smile and cocked her head. “Carson, you will never truly grasp how much you mean to me.”

  “I can say the same thing of you, my lady,” Carson said in response, trying to remain calm though his pulse began to race.

  Lizzie glanced at him and a smile slowly formed on her lips. “I prefer you addressing me as Lizzie.”

  “As do I,” Carson agreed and took another swig of wine. “This is ghastly.”

  “Please do stop complaining,” Lizzie scoffed, “or I will be forced to take it from you.”

  “Be my guest.” Carson chuckled and handed the bottle back to her.

  A short silence filled the stable, which was broken by Lizzie’s soft sigh. “Carson, may I ask you a question?”

  “Of course. You may ask me anything you wish.”

  “Do you feel out of place at times? As if everyone in the entire world is carrying on with their lives and you are left behind? As if you have not accomplished anything meaningful in your life?” Lizzie asked, her tone sombre and her eyes dulled with sadness.

  “I feel that way quite often. More often than I would care to admit.”

  “But you seem very light-hearted and happy, Carson,” Lizzie muttered with a furrowed brow.

  “Apparently I have the tendency to hide my emotions from the rest of the world.” Carson sighed and lowered his gaze. “It is both a blessing and a curse.”

  If only she knew how I really felt about her…

  “It would seem we are more alike than we already thought we were,” Lizzie said as she nudged his arm with her elbow.

  “Indeed, my lady.”

  “Here,” Lizzie said with a giggle and handed him the bottle. “It appears as though you need it more than I do.”

  “We shall share it. Equally,” Carson told her a
s he wrapped his fingers around the neck of the bottle. Lizzie’s hand was directly below his, also wrapped around the bottle.

  “I would love that,” Lizzie whispered and lowered her gaze. “Carson, do you remember the summer’s day we rode our horses to the river?”

  “Of course.” It was one of the best days of his life. “It had started to rain, and we took refuge under a tree. We spent the entire day there, only returning after sunset. Your parents were furious.”

  And he’d been scolded severely by both her parents and his father. But it had been worth it.

  “Indeed, they were,” Lizzie chuckled. “It was a wonderful day. We spoke of so many things. Sitting here with you now reminds me of that day.”

  “Luckily we are not soaked from the rain,” Carson pointed out., “Nor do I have to worry about being scolded by your parents this time.”

  As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted it. “My sincerest apologies, Lizzie. I didn’t mean to—”

  “It is fine, Carson. I know you didn’t mean to hurt or upset me,” Lizzie assured him. “I do miss the times we shared when we were younger. You and William spend a lot of time together now, which makes me feel rather left out.”

  “Is that why you feel left behind?” Carson asked.

  “Partly,” Lizzie answered, licking her lips. “I was always under the impression I would be the first of my siblings to marry. I am a woman, after all. I never thought that both James and William would be wedded before me.” She turned her body towards him, still holding the bottle. “I am truly happy and delighted for them, but I cannot stop myself from feeling as though I will never find a man who gazes upon me the way Drew and William gaze at their wives.”

  Carson’s throat tightened and he swallowed uncomfortably. “Lizzie, you must be patient. Love finds us when we expect it the least.”

  “That certainly applied in Drew and William’s case. Perhaps it shall be in the cards for me also,” Lizzie said, then met his eyes with an intent gaze. “And you as well?”

  “One can only hope.” Carson sighed and handed the bottle back to Lizzie. He desperately wished he possessed the courage to tell her of his feelings for her. Now was most certainly not the right time. She was half-sprung already from the wine.

  He was raised to be a gentleman and would certainly not take advantage of her when she was in a vulnerable state. A sudden thought occurred to him and he said jokingly, “Perhaps we should marry, and give everyone in Somerset a reason to gossip.”

  Lizzie scoffed and took another sip of wine. “As if there are not already enough tales of me in town.”

  “The tales will be there regardless of your actions, Lizzie,” Carson pointed out.

  “Indeed,” Lizzie answered, then turned to look at him. “If by next Spring, neither of us are married, then I will take you up on your offer.”

  “You will?” He gaped at her. Was she serious?

  “Why not? I am certainly happier when I am with you. You make my heart light, Carson,” Lizzie answered and drank from the bottle before handing it back to him.

  “I am glad to hear that,” Carson smiled and lightly shook the bottle. “This is nearly empty.”

  “Perhaps you should return to the ballroom and find us a fuller one,” Lizzie suggested.

  Carson glanced at Lizzie, her eyes twinkling mischievously back.

  “Please?” Lizzie pouted, batting her lashes at him.

  “I am certainly going to regret this in the morning.” Carson grinned before taking another sip of the almost empty bottle of wine.

  “Liar.” Lizzie giggled as Carson stood from the hay bale.

  “Come along,” Carson held out his hand to her. Her facial expression changed into one of disbelief and he shook his head. “I am most certainly not becoming a wine thief on my own.”

  Lizzie giggled as she stood from the hay bale and took his hand. “Lead the way.”

  3

  A thunderous pain erupted inside Lizzie’s head as she opened her eyes but immediately shut them again. Her bedchamber was filled with sunlight. She pulled the blanket over her head with a very unladylike groan.

  Carson’s words echoed painfully through her mind. I am certainly going to regret this in the morning.

  “Indeed,” Lizzie moaned from under the blankets.

  A soft knock, which bolted through her skull, ripping its way through, caused her to wince and she placed her hand against her forehead. “Leave me be.”

  “My lady, it is Frances. His Grace instructed me to bring your breakfast to your bedchamber, my lady.”

  Lizzie’s shoulders relaxed and she threw the blanket off her face. She slowly sat upright, her entire world spinning around her as the pulsating throb continued inside her head.

  “My lady?” Frances asked on the other side of the door.

  “Yes, yes, come in,” Lizzie answered in a hoarse tone.

  The door slowly opened, and Frances entered, along with another young maidservant carrying a tray of food and tea. They quietly set it down on the table and the young maidservant quickly exited the bedchamber, as though she knew she was not welcome inside for very long.

  “Thank you, Frances,” Lizzie muttered with gratitude as she rubbed her temples.

  “His and Her Grace had begun to worry why you had not come out from your chambers, my lady,” Frances explained as she slowly poured the teapot’s contents into the teacup.

  “I am still alive, if that was what they were concerned about,” Lizzie mumbled, and her brow furrowed. “Frances?”

  “Yes, my lady?”

  “How did I get back to the estate?” Lizzie asked. “I cannot recall a single memory of it. I assume I returned with the duke and the duchess?”

  “Oh, no, my lady. His and Her Grace arrived at the estate long before.”

  Lizzie’s brow furrowed even more, and she winced painfully. “How long?”

  “Shortly before sunrise.” Frances straightened from her task and looked at her.

  Lizzie gaped at the servant. Sunrise? “Was I…”

  “Completely and utterly, my lady,” Frances answered. “It is no wonder you slept until now.”

  Lizzie cleared her throat and ran her fingers through her brown hair. “What I meant to ask was, was I alone?”

  “Mr. Wallace was so kind as to ensure my lady’s safe return to the estate,” Frances answered simply. “Is there anything else, my lady?”

  “No, thank you, Frances.”

  Lizzie sat in silence as Frances swiftly left her chambers and closed the door behind her. The silence brought forth a nauseating feeling in the pit of Lizzie’s stomach and she slid off the bed, towards the delicious food Frances had brought in.

  As she nibbled on the small bread loaves and occasionally sipped her tea, she recalled the previous night. She remembered the stables with Carson, and the bottle of wine. How they’d spoken of everything and anything, and shared the bottle of bitter wine between them.

  She recalled his facial expression as he drank the first sip and realised why she felt terrible this morning. Carson was right, the wine was indeed awful. Lizzie also recalled how they had returned to the ballroom and taken two more bottles before retreating to their shared hay bale once more.

  The memories spilled together in a haze, and she was even more perplexed than before. What had happened after that? Had she and Carson done anything untoward that she would hear about from people in Somerset? Was her reputation now even more tainted by her reckless and inappropriate behaviour?

  Lizzie stood from the chaise, swallowed a mouthful of tea and hastily dressed in a white muslin day dress. After pinning her tresses into a bun on the crown of her head, she left her bedchamber in search of the duke. Surely, he would inform her of any scandalous things she had done last evening, as he was at the ball as well. If not, she would be forced to go directly to the source—Carson.

  Lizzie reached the main stairwell and heard voices coming from downstairs. She drew in a deep breath as he
r hand rested on the banister and she slowly descended the staircase. Walking along the hallway, she heard the duke and duchess in the parlour and slowly entered.

  “Good heavens, she is alive,” her brother James announced as soon as his gaze met hers and his smile was filled with amusement.

  The duchess, Kitty, however, seemed relieved that Lizzie was awake and in a presentable state.

  “Barely. I feel as though I have been struck by a coach,” Lizzie admitted.

  “That is not surprising, sister. Judging by the condition in which you arrived at the estate earlier this morning, I didn’t expect anything less. It was very gentlemanly of Carson to escort you home.”

  Lizzie nodded. “Indeed. I wish to thank him personally for ensuring that I returned home safely.”

  “Before you leave, sister, perhaps we can discuss the events of last evening,” the duchess said hastily. Lizzie froze.

  “Very well,” she answered, knowing there would be no point in delaying this conversation. She must have done something she certainly should not have.

  Her thoughts trailed back to Carson. He would not have allowed her to do anything that may have tainted her reputation, surely? Carson was a kind and understanding man, whom she trusted implicitly, and he was well aware of the situation with her and Lord Dorset.

  “Before you speak, Your Grace, I wish only to apologize for any of my behaviour that placed you both in a bad light. I was clearly intoxicated and had no control over what I had done. I do apologise if there was anything I have done that made you ashamed to call me your sister.”

  “Oh, no, Lizzie,” the duchess said with a reassuring smile and approached Lizzie. “You didn’t do anything of the sort. Although Drew and I did see you and Carson leave the ballroom each with a bottle of wine in hand.”

  Lizzie closed her eyes and hung her head in shame. “I cannot believe I did such a thing.”

  “It was rather skilfully done, sister,” the duke grinned. “I must commend you on that.”