Regency Romance Collection

by Bridget Barton

  “But why?”

  “I am keen to get a good map of which banks the Cunninghams are using. I want to find out who they keep money with and who they borrow money from. I want to know where their weaknesses lie.” Gabriel seemed suddenly more intense than ever, perching on the edge of his seat, every muscle in his body taut.

  “Right, I see.” Hugh said, clearly unable to see the real point of it all.

  “Because, Hugh, that is exactly what they will be doing to us.” Gabriel relaxed again. “They will be gathering whatever information they can about us. We use a number of banks, of course, and they all promise discretion. And yet, there is not one among them who can be trusted. It is time for us to gather the same amount of information on the Cunninghams as they undoubtedly have been gathering on us.” Gabriel looked at Hugh and could see that he still could find little object in the exercise. “Hugh, I do not yet know what we shall do with that information. It is just better that we have it. It is better that we know all we should know about our enemy. Perhaps then we shall know when they are ready to strike.”

  “But they haven’t in years, Gabriel. Why this sudden resurrection of things? I mean, I know the two families are sworn enemies, but the fight seems to have lain dormant for so long.”

  “Yes, it has.” Their mother appeared suddenly, startling both young men. “And I would wish it to remain so.” She said, sadly.

  Daphne Farrington, the Dowager Duchess of Calgarth, had seen more than enough of the feud between the families over the years. As her husband lay on his death bed, Daphne had privately urged him to release his five sons from the burden of so destructive a legacy and let them get on with happy lives in a well-run Duchy. However, his bitterness ran so deep that he had refused to relinquish it, even in his final hours, and even at the pleading of a most beloved wife.

  In the end, rather than release his sons from the obligation of continuing, he had urged them on in his name. He had, with his last breath, condemned his sons to a lifetime of renewed feuding in the name of a woman they had never known.

  “But can you not both see that Father’s death has changed things? The feud is intensified simply because the Duke of Horndean rejoices in the death of his old adversary and thinks I, the new Duke, too young and inexperienced to see the thing through. Cornelius Cunningham likely thinks that we are weakened by our loss and will see this as a chance in which to have victory over us once and for all.” Gabriel had not told them that this was the very sentiment his father had parted with in his final moments. Wentworth Farrington had been determined that the battle go on, and even more determined that his eldest son should do everything in his power to continue on the path of vengeance, never once letting go.

  Gabriel could see that he was reaching his younger brother to some degree, but his mother would have none of it.

  “If one side would simply refuse to engage, then surely the feud dies.” Daphne said, sadly shaking her head as she knew she was wasting her carefully chosen words.

  “Mother, I must carry out Father’s wishes, as well you know.” Gabriel said, almost sadly. His mother was a beloved woman who had raised her sons to be kind and considerate young men of intelligence and wit. She had succeeded in every way but yet could do nothing to dissolve the poison that their father had tipped into their hearts for so long. It was almost as if her sons had no choice in the thing; no will to see things differently. The sad thing was that Daphne strongly suspected that things were little different in the lives of the Cunningham offspring.

  Truly boiled down, the feud had been between just two men. Cornelius Cunningham, the Duke of Horndean, and Wentworth Farrington, the Duke of Calgarth. And yet, with one of the protagonists now dead, the feud looked set not only to continue but to rage like the flames of a continually stoked fire.

  With a sigh, Daphne smiled sadly and left her two eldest sons to their plots and schemes. Nothing was going to change that day.

  Chapter 2

  The wedding ceremony of Lord and Lady Borden’s unfortunate looking daughter barely touched Gabriel Farrington. In truth, he had heard not one word that the reverend had uttered in the church. Instead, Gabriel contented himself by staring intently at Richard Cunningham.

  Lord Richard Cunningham was the son of the incumbent Earl of Horndean. Being of the same age, and both having attended Eton, there had always been a most particular rivalry between the two men. Both had been raised to despise the other, and there had been not one civil word passed between them throughout all their years of schooling at Eton.

  Gabriel had always felt himself to have the upper hand, always having been vastly more popular with the other young men at school. Richard had been seen by many to have a most unusual personality, and his manners certainly did not recommend him to anybody. In many ways, Gabriel had mourned the loss of his school days when they came to an end because the perpetual victory of his popularity was something that had always made his father pleased and proud.

  Gabriel also knew himself to be the more handsome of the two men, being as tall and as broad as a farmhand, but with the refinement of dress and bearing of the aristocrat. Gabriel’s hair was a most unusual shade of blonde, being almost the color of ash. Although he knew his hair to have already started to gray at the temples, it was certainly well disguised by the already silvery quality of his natural hue.

  Gabriel’s eyes were a most unusual blue-grey color, and he was perfectly well aware that many a young lady had stared hopefully into them over the years, almost mesmerized. His looks and his seeming power over the hearts of young ladies was something that Gabriel had discreetly used to his own advantage over the years, and it had given him little reason, thus far, to wed.

  The wedding feast, held in the rather too extravagant home of Lord and Lady Borden, was characteristically overdone. There was table upon table of food that there quite simply was not time, nor enough people, to eat. Of course, Lord and Lady Borden were nothing if not terribly fashionable, and the current fashion was to always display one’s wealth on such occasions. Purposely providing vastly more food than was necessary was simply a facet of that particular fashion.

  “Thus far, brother, I have not seen either Richard nor Cornelius Cunningham speak to any of the bankers. Have you?” Hugh said and seemed keen suddenly to help his older brother after their disagreement of just days before.

  “No, and yet I had very much expected to see such conversations taking place. I have heard whispers of fresh mining seams, you see, and with our lands being so very close to the Duchy of Horndean, I have the greatest interest in it all.” Gabriel said, feeling rather like he had been thwarted in some way by the Cunninghams. Almost as if they knew what he was looking for, and were determined that he should not see it. Whatever the reason, it only made Gabriel more determined.

  “And in matters of land, brother, we already know the Cunninghams are not to be trusted,” Hugh said, absently following his older brother’s gaze. “I say, I think you make a little too close a study of Richard Cunningham. Sooner or later, it will draw notice.”

  “You are right, of course,” Gabriel said, nodding and turning his attention briefly back to his younger brother. “Tell me, that young lady at Richard Cunningham’s side, have you ever seen her before?”

  “No, I do not believe that I know her. But we attend so many events, brother, and so many of the ladies look like so many other ladies. I sometimes find it hard to tell between them. I often find myself introducing myself to a lady I already know.” Hugh said, and gave a shrug.

  “That is the price you pay for knowing far too many ladies, Hugh,” Gabriel said and chuckled wickedly. “And I would say that there is none who knows more ladies than you, my dear brother.” He continued to laugh, and Hugh joined him.

  Gabriel turned his attention back in the direction of Richard Cunningham, who stood just a few feet from his father, Cornelius. The Duke of Horndean was having something of an in-depth conversation with Lord Borden and his son, as was his custom, hov
ered ineffectually on the edges of it all, looking for all the world like a man who had nothing to add.

  Gabriel could feel his mouth turning up into the sneer which had become customary when he regarded Richard Cunningham.

  Gaining nothing new from his study of Richard, Gabriel turned his attention to the young lady at his side. Richard regarded her but rarely, and seemed more intent on trying to worm his way into whatever conversation his father was having.

  Gabriel could not help but think the young lady uncommonly pretty to be standing at the side of a man of no attraction or handsomeness whatsoever. She was tall and slender, with pleasing curves and thick, bright chestnut hair. It had been piled neatly on top of her head, with many great shining chestnut ringlets framing her face. She wore no flowers, jewels, feathers, or adornments of any kind in her hair. As he studied her closer still, Gabriel rather thought that her hair was an adornment in itself. It needed no other distractions. He could not entirely discern the color of her eyes from so great a distance, but rather thought them to be blue. Still, he had every intention of getting close enough to her at some point in the proceedings to see them most distinctly.

  Richard Cunningham turned to speak to her, and the young woman began to laugh. However, Gabriel had the strongest sense that the woman was not the least bit amused by whatever it was that Cunningham had had to say. For whilst her rosy and generous mouth did, indeed, broaden into a beautiful smile as she laughed, the smile did not reach her eyes. Beyond her sumptuous lips, nothing else in her face seemed to move.

  As Cunningham turned from her once more, intent again on his father’s conversation, her smile faded immediately, and Gabriel almost laughed out loud when he detected a very distinct roll of her eyes. The gesture had been aimed at nobody in the room, but rather had been a silent expression of her true feelings.

  “What is amusing you, brother?” Hugh said, seeing a smile suddenly light up Gabriel’s intense features.

  “I think I rather like the young lady with Richard Cunningham.” He said, and gave a low chuckle. “She strikes me as very interesting.”

  “By interesting, Gabriel, I assume you mean pretty,” Hugh said, turning his attention away from his brother to lift two glasses of champagne from a platter held aloft by a passing footman. “Here.” He said, handing on to Gabriel.

  “Thank you. Although why I am thanking you,I have no idea. This is, without the shadow of a doubt, the worst champagne I have ever tasted. I think the Bordens and might have been better served by spending less on the food and more on the drink.”

  “How very sour of you, brother,” Hugh said, and laughed. “So, tell me why it is you find the young lady across the room so very interesting.”

  “I have a sneaking suspicion that she is not as attached to our dear adversary as he might believe her to be.”

  “Quite how you can tell that from across the room, and having seen her only for the first time today, I cannot begin to imagine.” Hugh said, doubtfully.

  “I make a study of people, Hugh, and I have seen something in one simple expression that tells me all I need to know.” Gabriel turned to look his brother full in the face and gave a slow smile.

  “So, Cunningham’s young lady is not as interested in him as she might be. In truth, that is likely the situation of many a young man in the County. However, I do not see how it assists us in any way at all.” Hugh said, taking a great mouthful of the champagne before wincing theatrically. “I do believe you are right about the quality of the champagne.”

  “My dear Hugh, where you see a matter of little consequence, I see the opportunity to strike a great blow for our father.” Moving only his eyes, Gabriel looked away from Hugh and back over to the chestnut-haired young beauty. “You see, I intend to take that young lady from under the very nose of Richard Cunningham. I mean to have her for myself.”

  “Which would be a blow indeed, brother,” Hugh said, clearly not convinced. “But if you do not find you like the lady, whilst it might be a blow to Cunningham, it might also be a blow to you.”

  “Well, perhaps a little more study might be necessary before I commit to my plan,” Gabriel said, almost to himself. “But, should I go ahead, what would be a more fitting maneuver? Surely it would mirror, in some ways, the cruelty that was practiced upon poor Aunt Verity.”

  “You mean to make Richard Cunningham feel as desperate and unhappy at the loss of his love as Aunt Verity felt at the loss of hers?”

  “Yes.”

  “But what if he does not feel it? What if he does not hold the lady in particularly high regard and is not hurt by it all?” Hugh said, turning to place his champagne, unfinished, onto one of the tables behind him.

  “He will feel it in some way. And if he does not, he will certainly be very sensible of the symbolic nature of it all. And any chance to humiliate him publicly ought to be taken where at all possible.” Gabriel said and was smiling. He was warming to his plan, and most determined that he should find the young lady pleasing enough to be engaged to. She was certainly very beautiful, and Gabriel knew that the pleasure he would gain from the victory would outweigh any problem he might encounter subsequently.

  “I say, I do believe you are right.” Hugh said, finally seeing how the whole thing might play out.

  Their Aunt Verity had been the only sister of their father, Wentworth Farrington. When she was just twenty, Verity had been engaged to be married to none other than Cornelius Cunningham. At that time, the young Cornelius was making himself ready to take on the title of Duke of Horndean, his own father being in very poor health. Cornelius and Wentworth had been the very best of friends, having gone up to Eton together, their upcoming titles providing much common ground between the two men.

  However, with just weeks before Verity and Cornelius were to wed, everything changed. Cornelius broke their engagement without giving a reason, and hastily became engaged to the woman to whom he was still married; Miss Prudence Littlefair.

  Verity, young and truly broken-hearted, had never recovered from the pain and humiliation. Being unable to live in a world where the only man she would ever love was married to another, Verity had hanged herself on the eve of the wedding of Cornelius and Prudence.

  Wentworth Farrington, who had treasured his younger sister more highly than anything in the world, had been truly devastated. He had vowed to spend this life and the next in a ceaseless effort to avenge his sister’s death, and never once had he relented.

  If Gabriel could successfully drive a wedge between Richard Cunningham and the beautiful young woman, he would be sending a very clear message. There was no chink in the armor of the Duchy of Calgarth. The new Duke, however young and inexperienced, was more than a match for his enemies.

  Chapter 3

  “How did you find the dreadful wedding of the unfortunate-looking daughter of Lord and Lady Borden?” Stuart Penhaligon, Gabriel’s closest friend, laughed as he poured them both another sherry. “I must say, I was inordinately pleased to have an ironclad excuse to absent myself from it. Tell me, did the Bordens lay on a great spread?”

  “They most certainly did, Stuart. I must say, I find it rather vulgar to think how much of that food would simply have been scraped away or fed to the pigs. I cannot stand these families who are so keen for the approval of others.” Gabriel nodded his appreciation as he took the proffered sherry and strode slowly to the fireplace.

  The drawing room at Harbury Hall was very much smaller than the one at Calgarth Hall, and yet Gabriel always found himself rather more at home. At just a quarter of the size, and with very much lower ceilings, the drawing room had certainly been decorated to suit the tastes of its owner, rather than to conform to the latest fashions. In an age where paintwork was light and upholstery carefully coordinated, the drawing room at Harbury Hall boasted rich and sumptuous dark fabrics and the deepest of sage-green paintwork. Of course, Stuart Penhaligon, the Earl of Harbury, had always walked and talked in a manner that suited only himself. Gabriel had always ad
mired that in his friend and had often wondered how much simpler life might be if he were an Earl rather than a Duke.

  “And tell me, how goes your dear acquaintance Richard Cunningham? I believe he was in attendance.” Stuart said, giving a wicked chuckle as he teased Gabriel.

  “He was, my dear friend, as insipid as ever.” Gabriel turned from the fire and walked back to one of the fireside chairs. “Although the same could not be said of the beautiful young lady at his side.”

  “Goodness me, has he finally managed to secure himself some poor and unfortunate female? Really, whoever she is, one would hope her father would know better. Richard does not particularly have a reputation for respectful behavior after all, does he?” Stuart said, and chuckled.

  “Well, I must admit to amusing myself with much careful questioning whilst in attendance at the dreadful wedding. It certainly made more sense than taking part in the festivities. Anyway, I have discovered that the young lady is the daughter of an Earl. The Earl of Gorton, I believe.”