The Returned Lords of Grosvenor Square: A Regency Romance Boxset

by Rose Pearson

  “You need not look so askance,” Lord Abernathy said, reaching out and patting her hand with his good one. “I am not laughing at you, Miss Harland, but rather at the notion that a good match must have affection and love within it.” He shook his head, although his smile began to fade. “No, it requires neither such thing.”

  Deborah swallowed hard, wishing that her cheeks would lose some of their heat. “I see,” she replied, hoarsely, suddenly thinking that it had been a mistake to remain in conversation with the Duke. “That is, I think, a little sad.”

  “Sad?” Lord Abernathy repeated, his tone now a little disbelieving, as though she had said something truly ridiculous. “Goodness, Miss Harland, I did not think that anyone could be so truly out of touch with society as you have just evidenced!”

  Deborah felt herself shrink inwardly. The Duke’s tone had become somewhat derisive, as though despite what he had said, he really did find her lack of understanding to be laughable. There had been moments over the last two weeks when Lord Abernathy had shown a side to himself that she had not seen before – a kind, considerate, amiable gentleman – only for him to then retreat back into scornful temper as though it was the only place he truly felt safe.

  “I am sorry I do not match up to your expectations,” she said, rising to her feet, “but I will not pretend that I have changed my mind due to your scorn. I find that I am all the more certain that any relationship which is completely devoid of affection can never be truly happy.” She inclined her head by way of taking her leave. “But as you have said, my lack of understanding of society and all that is required therein is quite another matter.”

  Turning on her heel, she made to walk from the room, only to be halted by Lord Abernathy’s voice.

  “I did not mean to insult you, Miss Harland,” he said, actually sounding a little apologetic. “And I must thank you for your care of me.”

  Stunned, she turned around to face him again. In the weeks she had spent taking care of Lord Abernathy’s wounds and attempting to converse with him whenever he was willing, he had never once shown any gratitude towards her.

  “You are surprised by my words,” Lord Abernathy murmured, looking away from her in embarrassment. “For that, I think I must apologize again. I have not shown you any kind of thanks in these last weeks, have I?”

  Deborah did not know what to say, swallowing hard as she looked into his face and saw a genuine honesty about his expression that had not been evidenced before.

  “You have put up with a good deal from me, Miss Harland, and I will not pretend that I am not grateful for it,” he stated, plainly. “I have been terribly rude to you. I have injured you, I am sure.” Wincing, he looked away. “And yet, you have stayed and shown that determination you spoke of the first time we met.”

  “I have, yes,” Deborah agreed, surprised that her voice was a little hoarse. “I have wanted you to recover, Lord Abernathy, as your sister has done.”

  Lord Abernathy nodded, although he did not look at her again. “I give you my thanks, Miss Harland, for what you have done and for what you shall continue to do until I am fully recovered.” He held out his hand to her and, a little uncertain as to what he meant to do, Deborah hesitated for a moment before stepping forward to give it to him.

  Their fingers met and Deborah was astonished at how her breath ran from her, forcing her lungs to plead for air. She could not give them what they desired, however, for Lord Abernathy pressed his lips to the back of her hand, bowing over it for just a moment before raising his gaze to hers.

  “Thank you,” he said, plainly, as warmth rifled through Deborah’s chest. “Despite my dark humor, my temper and my disdain, underneath it all, I am grateful to you.”

  “Of course, Your Grace,” Deborah stammered, almost relieved when he let go of her hand. “I am glad to see you recovering.” She did not know what else to say, staring at him for a long moment before collecting herself. “I – I should return this tray to the kitchens. Do excuse me.”

  Lord Abernathy said nothing as she quit the room, the silence chasing after her and nipping at her heels. She felt her face burn with color, the warmth in her cheeks betraying the effect Lord Abernathy’s touch had made in her heart. Hurrying below stairs, Deborah set down the tray and quickly made herself a pot of tea, thinking that she would take a few minutes to herself to regain her composure and try to understand whatever it was that her heart was feeling.

  Unfortunately, it seemed she was not to get her wish.

  “Ah, Deborah!” Mr. Morris came into the kitchen, snapping his heels together. “Lady Markham wishes to see you, just as soon as you are able. At the stables, I believe.”

  “The stables?” Deborah repeated, a little surprised. “Is she to go riding?”

  “You both are,” Mr. Morris replied, with a grin. “Have you ridden before?”

  Deborah nodded, having been required to ride through the London streets upon occasion to find whatever was needed for the recovery of the men the nuns had been caring for.

  “Wonderful,” Mr. Morris replied, his smile still broad as he took in her astonishment. “I think a habit has been laid out for you in your room. Mary can help you change.”

  “A habit?” Deborah repeated, her surprise growing steadily. “Where did it come from?”

  “From her ladyship,” the butler said, gesturing her towards the stairs. “Now, do hurry. Mary will be waiting.”

  Still desperate to have even the smallest cup of tea, Deborah grasped the tea tray and took it with her, ignoring Mr. Morris’ shake of the head. Her mind and heart were still filled with tumultuous thoughts over Lord Abernathy, but it seemed she was not to be granted her wish for some peace to consider what had been said and how she had felt. It would have to wait until much later.

  “Oh, how wonderful!” Lady Markham clapped her hands together at the sight of Deborah in her new green habit. “You look quite the thing, Deborah.”

  Deborah, who was quite unused to wearing anything so fine, looked down at the fine riding habit she wore and shook her head in amazement. She had barely been able to recognize herself when Mary had finished dressing her and arranging her hair and even now could not quite take in that she was wearing something fit for a lady.

  “You are to keep it, of course,” Lady Markham insisted. “It is an old one of mine but I had it adjusted to fit you.”

  “I – I thank you,” Deborah replied, quietly thinking to herself that she would have no use for such a thing when she returned to the abbey. Perhaps it could be sold and the money used to benefit the poor. “I am truly grateful for your kindness.”

  “It is nothing compared to what you have given my brother,” Lady Markham replied, firmly. “Come now, I want to tell you some news but it is such a fine day that I longed to ride.”

  Deborah nodded, one of her ringlets falling from behind her ear and dancing in front of her face. A little frustrated, she tucked her dark hair behind her ear, her sharp blue eyes narrowing slightly at the size of the mare that was brought out to her.

  “More than gentle, I promise,” Lady Markham said, encouragingly. “And we shall not go too fast if that is not your preference.”

  Deborah, her heart quickening a little, allowed herself to be lifted into the saddle and together, she and Lady Markham began to ride out together.

  “My brother seems to be making a marked improvement,” Lady Markham said, as they set out across the grounds. “These last two weeks, I have seen him emerging from the shadows and returning to the life that was once his.” She shot a glance towards Deborah, her emerald eyes sparkling with tears – although Deborah hoped that they came from Lady Markham’s happiness over Lord Abernathy’s improved health.

  “I am glad to have been able to help,” Deborah said, honestly. “It will be only a sennight before the bandages can be removed entirely, I think.”

  Lady Markham smiled and tipped her face to the sky for a moment. “You have done so much for him, Deborah. Even when you are not
by his side, I know you have been praying for him.”

  “For you both,” Deborah corrected, gently. “You have endured a good deal yourself, Judith, and I have been glad to see your burden lifted somewhat.”

  Lady Markham sighed happily and nudged her mare into a trot. “I have written to Lady Cavendish.”

  “Oh?”

  “She has responded to my letter,” Lady Markham continued, not looking back at Deborah as her mare trotted ahead. “She wrote to say that she has been tormented with the knowledge that Lord Abernathy has been injured but that she has not wanted to intrude on his healing by bringing him more distress.”

  Deborah nodded slowly, having to increase her speed in order to hear what Lady Markham was saying. “I see,” she murmured, a little surprised that the lady would have been so upset when Lord Abernathy had stated there was no particular affection between them. Mayhap he had been mistaken. Mayhap Lady Cavendish had truly cared for him but he had not seen it.

  “She will see Lord Abernathy just as soon as he is able,” Lady Markham said, looking over her shoulder at Deborah, her face wreathed in smiles. “Is that not wonderful?”

  “It is, indeed,” Deborah agreed, not wanting to consider why she felt such upset and frustration over this news. “I am glad that she has not turned her back on him as he feared.”

  Lady Markham’s expression clouded for a moment. “I must hope, however, that she will not reject him when she sees the extent of his injuries,” she added, pulling her horse back into a walk. “It will come as something of a shock, I am quite certain.”

  Deborah considered this for a moment. “It may,” she agreed, trying to set her own feelings aside so that she might look at the situation objectively. “However, if her affections for Lord Abernathy are genuine, then she will be able to look past those injuries to the gentleman she knows has her heart, will she not?”

  Surprised that Lady Markham looked so uncertain, Deborah’s brows began to knit together. Was this yet another example of just how poorly she understood how life worked for those in high society?

  “You are much too good, Deborah,” Lady Markham sighed, shaking her head. “Your thoughts do not turn to worry and anxiety, as mine do.” A small, sidelong glance was sent Deborah’s way before Lady Markham tossed her head, evidently determined to set aside her melancholy. “It shall all be just as you say, I am quite sure of it.”

  “I do hope so, for Lord Abernathy’s sake,” Deborah replied, honestly.

  “Although he shall have to remove that temper of his from him entirely,” Lady Markham continued, not hearing Deborah’s remark. “He cannot go calling upon Lady Cavendish with both a face and a character so changed!”

  Deborah nodded, her heart sinking down towards her toes. “No, indeed he cannot,” she agreed, wondering if there would ever be a way for Lord Abernathy to find the happiness and ease of life he once had – and if she would find herself even more caught up with him than she was at this present moment if that were to occur.

  Lady Markham sighed although she looked a good deal more content. “You are quite right, Deborah,” she stated, as though Deborah had chased away all of her doubts in one moment. “Now, if you will permit me, I have the urge to ride wildly across the estate for a few moments.” She laughed and Deborah could not help but smile. “I will return to you just as soon as I can.”

  “But of course,” Deborah replied, a little relieved that she would not have to go galloping alongside Lady Markham. “Do not let me prevent you from doing whatever you wish.”

  “Thank you, Deborah,” Lady Markham replied, her hands tightening on the reins. “You have truly been a blessing to this house.”

  Deborah smiled and sent up a silent prayer of thanks that she had been permitted to help both Lord Abernathy and Lady Markham in this way, choosing to ignore, for the time being, the strange, unsettling feelings that still lingered in her heart.

  Chapter Eight

  It was not usual for Deborah to hesitate outside Lord Abernathy’s rooms. However, today, she waited for a moment or two just outside his door, wondering at this strange feeling of nervous anticipation that suddenly filled her. It was now a month to the day since she had first arrived at Lord Abernathy’s estate, and to feel such a strange sense of expectation after what had been a terrible first meeting was rather unexpected.

  It had been growing slowly, Deborah had to admit, even though she had been doing her very best to shun such strangeness and simply look upon Lord Abernathy as just another person to care for. They had spent a good deal of time in one another’s company over the last few weeks and she had delighted in seeing the way he had begun to leave the despondency and depression behind him. Indeed, Lady Markham had also been overjoyed at his slow transformation and Deborah had simply thought that her feelings of happiness stemmed from Lord Abernathy’s recovery – but they had become something more than a simple relief. The more they had conversed, the more she had enjoyed speaking with him, learning of his life and all that he had done both as a young man and then as the bearer of the title. He had begun to open up to her, as a flower slowly coming into bloom. It had been beautiful to see and yet Deborah found herself yearning for more.

  Why did she hesitate at his door? Was it because she knew that the moment she stepped inside, she would have to do nothing but battle her growing affection? Or was it because she was hopeful that such a thing would occur, that it would continue to fill her with delight and hope and love so that she would no longer be so inexperienced in matters of the heart?

  Closing her eyes, Deborah let out a long breath, feeling a sudden pang of guilt. She was meant to be thinking of becoming a nun, was she not? Had she not come here in the hope that it could be the last thing she would need to do before she took her vows? When had she become so faint of heart? When had she lost her way, her devotion and her dedication to the things of God?

  You do not have to take orders, said a small voice within her as she continued to battle her thoughts. There is nothing wrong with caring for another.

  “But that is foolishness,” she said aloud, her voice echoing down the hallway. “You know it can never be.”

  Indeed, she did. There was no need to be reminded of the fact that Lord Abernathy was a Duke and she nothing more than a simple orphan who had very little knowledge and experience of the world. She could never truly become a part of his life, not when they were realms apart. It was foolish to continue on with these thoughts, for nothing could ever come of them except pain. She would linger on in heartbreak, having fallen into a deep affection for Lord Abernathy, the Duke who was already considering his future with another.

  “Miss Harland? Are you going to come inside or linger at the door?”

  A flush of heat ran up her spine as she heard Lord Abernathy’s laughter filled voice coming from inside the room. To her horror, she noted that the door itself was already open, sitting a little ajar. How much had Lord Abernathy heard her say? And how long had he known she had been waiting outside?

  “You need not think that you will upset me or the like by simply barging in,” Lord Abernathy said, pulling the door open wide. “You know that I am expecting you, do you not?” His smile was easier than before with only a few red marks and some small scars to show where he had been injured. “In fact, I have been looking forward to your arrival all morning.”

  Deborah blushed furiously, despising her own reaction to him. “I apologize, Lord Abernathy, for my tardiness,” she said, quickly. “I was lost in thought for a moment or two, that is all.”

  Quickly stepping into the rooms, she hurried to where she usually set the tray down, putting her back to Lord Abernathy.

  “We are to remove the bandages for good today, I hope?” Lord Abernathy said, his voice a little concerned. “I confess I have been looking forward to such a thing for some time.”

  Deborah nodded, looking over her shoulder at him. They had been removing the bandages slowly but the damage around his eye had taken longer to heal.
Today, she hoped, they might be able to remove the bandages completely.

  “I am relieved to hear it,” Lord Abernathy said, coming to sit down in his usual seat. “I have been able to go about some of my duties of late, but it will be nice to be freed of the bandages for good.” He held up his hand, the bandages still around the stumps of what had once been his fingers. “Although I think I shall require a seamstress to make something for me to hide this disfigurement – although I already have a patch for my eye.”

  Deborah frowned, setting out the bowl of hot water and the cloth. “I hardly think that you need concern yourself with such things, Lord Abernathy. No-one here will be distressed upon seeing you. Surely you know that.”

  Lord Abernathy waggled a finger on his good hand at her. “Ah, but you forget I am to call upon Lady Cavendish in a few weeks’ time,” he said, with a small smile. “She has said to my sister that she intends to come to stay nearby and I must use that opportunity to reacquaint myself with her.”

  Swallowing a sudden lump in her throat and fixing a quick smile upon her face, Deborah attempted to look fairly nonchalant at this news, even though she felt her heart sinking towards her toes. “I am quite certain,” she said, aware that her voice was trembling slightly, “that if Lady Cavendish truly cares for you, then your injuries will not deter her in any way.”

  Lord Abernathy sighed heavily as she reached forward to begin to unwrap the bandages from his hand. “I must hope that her devotion to me will prove itself to you then, Miss Harland.”

  “Not to me,” Deborah replied, pulling aside the last of the bandages and carefully scrutinizing what was left of his fingers. “Your future does not involve me, Lord Abernathy.”

  Those words felt almost painful as she spoke them and at that moment, Deborah realized that she desperately wanted to be a part of Lord Abernathy’s future. She did not want to leave him behind, did not want to return to the abbey and make her vows. She wanted to remain here, with him. In the last month, she had felt herself become almost a part of this place, a part of his life. Lady Cavendish had what she did not and Deborah found herself growing envious of her potential future with Lord Abernathy.