The Dowager Duchess smiled, held out her arms, and said, “I know, my dear Miss Edmundson. You have been like a daughter to me. I offer you my apology that I permitted Doctor Whitmore to form a connection with you. If I had known that he was a greedy sort of man, I should never have permitted him inside of my house. Forgive me for that transgression, and for listening to the conversation. I was overcome by curiosity, a fault of mine, I am sorry to say. But one that was beneficial this afternoon.”
“You do not owe me an apology, not at all,” Beatrice exclaimed, as she rushed to the Dowager Duchess. The older woman embraced her, in a welcome display of affection that Beatrice never dreamed was possible. As she wiped her face, she realized she had been crying. From gratitude or some other emotion, she did not know. As the Dowager Duchess held her, like a daughter, Beatrice closed her eyes and thought of the proposal she received, wishing it had been some other gentleman who had asked her in that drawing room and not Doctor Whitmore.
12
A second social season, or a slightly modest version of the formal social season that began in winter and extended until early in the summer, began in earnest in October, as the fashionable members of the merchant class and the aristocrats returned to Bath. The Edmundsons had not left, preferring to spend the summer in residence in the townhouse on the Royal Crescent. There was much talk among Gertie and Beatrice about leaving for London to stay at her brother’s home for the season, but she had no wish to be removed from her small charge. Lydia had grown; she now tentatively took her first steps and said her first words. With each new day, Beatrice had no other wish than to see the child become healthy and strong.
In late October, the hunting season at the country houses of the dukes and lords of the realm was underway. The families that did not hunt or enjoy the hunting later in November came to Bath to avail themselves of the waters, the assembly rooms, and the society. Balls were common, as were dinners and teas. To Beatrice’s astonishment, Arthur returned from his estate, his mood much improved after a month of manly pursuits in the company of other gentlemen. When he returned, he was much altered. Beatrice found his sullen moods had diminished and so had his tendency to cast his glance away from his daughter. He sought out Lydia, his arms held the tiny girl as tenderly as if he was holding a fragile China doll.
It was not only the Duke of Norwich who was altered. His valet, a tall, muscular man, who went by the name of Forbes, returned to Bath in his company. Beatrice was immediately struck by the change in Gertie’s behavior. Her mother’s nurse and her dear companion was not content any longer to pull her unruly red curls back from her face in a severe style but began to wear her hair in a fashion favored by ladies of her age. She also took care in her dress, ordering two new afternoon frocks in flattering colors recommended by Mrs. Edmundson’s dressmaker. Beatrice wondered if the valet was aware of the change he affected in Gertie, as she watched him closely whenever he addressed the duke in Gertie’s presence. It was nearly imperceptible, but Beatrice was positive that she saw the glimmer of a glance pass between her mother’s nurse and the duke’s valet. How delightful, she thought, that Gertie should find Mr. Forbes handsome. Mr. Forbes was as generously proportioned and tall as Gertie was plump. It seemed to be a match well-conceived as if it were ordained.
Beatrice resisted teasing Gertie about her newfound interest in the valet, as she feared it would wound the dear woman’s pride. Instead, Beatrice smiled quietly to herself as she observed their interaction one evening upon the landing at the duke’s residence. Outside, the cool winds of autumn had arrived. It was late in the month, and the servants giggled about ghosts and haunts stirring with the coming of the first of November. Beatrice did not give credence to their idle gossip, but she did wonder if this time of year, as the cool weather set in, held a magic that was all its own. She leaned against the rail outside the drawing room where her mother and the Dowager Duchess indulged Lydia with a myriad of toys and dolls. Beatrice shivered in the cold away from the fire, as she watched Gertie and Mr. Forbes share a few words and a smile. Their romance made her heart sing with gladness for Gertie.
“They seem happy in each other’s company, would you not agree Miss Edmundson?” the Duke of Norwich said to her, as he joined her in the hallway.
“Gertie is so much more to me than my mother’s nurse. She has been like an aunt, I suppose. She has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. I pray she finds happiness in her life, perhaps with a family of her own.”
“I have not known Forbes for any great length of time, but what I do know of him speaks well of his character. He is an older man, older than me, and I wager older than Gertie by several years. He has proven indispensable to me. It was his hire that enabled me to come home, to take my place here as Lydia s father. May I confide in you, Miss Edmundson?”
“You may, Your Grace. You always could have.”
“Do not share this with Miss Chisolm. Permit Forbes the opportunity to do so, but he has known loss. His wife and son died of influenza when he was away fighting the French many years ago. Through his loss and his strength, he counseled me. I am grateful for that.”
“Perhaps he can find happiness with Gertie. She is a loving person, generous and amiable. She would bring comfort to him all the days of his life.”
“I believe she would. Shall we adjourn to the library while Lydia is entertained? It would seem she had two grandmothers, instead of one. She may not be in need of either of us for a few minutes.”
“If you insist,” Beatrice said, as she glanced over her shoulder. The sound of Lydia’s fairy-like laughter gripped her heart, making her smile. “We cannot be gone long. I do not wish to be away from dear Lydia.”
For the first time, Arthur gazed at Beatrice and smiled, a warm, genuine smile that spread from his mouth to his eyes.
Beatrice smiled back instantly, as she said, “What have I said to amuse you?”
“Nothing at all. It is I who stand not amused but astonished. How you have become enamored with my daughter. I could not easily rend you apart from her no more than I could remove her from your life. Come with me. I have a surprise for you in the library. Also, we shall talk, you and I, as old friends. There can be nothing improper in that, as we have known each other for many years.”
Beatrice remarked, “We should not be alone; we should have a chaperone.”
“I believe the conversation I wish to have with you will remove the necessity of a chaperone.”
Beatrice could not imagine what he intended to discuss with her as she followed him into the library. Inside the room was a roaring fire in the fireplace, walls lined with leather-bound volumes, and upholstered chairs by the fireside. It was a delightful room, one she had spent hours in as a child. On the arm of the sofa, she was surprised to see the grey tabby cat sitting with a large red bow around its neck.
Beatrice smiled and ran to pick up the cat. She nuzzled her nose in her grey fur and said, “You found her. I thought I saw her in the garden one day.” Upon closer inspection the excited girl said, “It is her. She is quite a bit older now.” Just then the tabby jumped out of her arms.
“Yes, she is our childhood companion. She has returned to us,” the duke said.
Running her fingers along the volumes, Beatrice giggled in spite of herself. “Do you remember how we used to select a book and act out the scenes on rainy days? Your mother would complain that we were making too much noise, and we would whisper and continue playing anyway?”
“I do remember those days, so much has changed since then. You, Beatrice, are no longer that little girl with the blond hair that would not stay in braids.”
“You are no longer that young man who liked to win every time we played at sword fighting.”
“My mother told me about the incident regarding the doctor. I must be honest about the man, I never did like the looks of him. There was something in his disposition which I did not trust, and in his smile which reminded me of card sharks. A subject I should
not mention to anyone else but you.”
“I am ashamed that I ever gave him the impression I was ambitious,” she said as she looked down, unable to meet his gaze less she see her worst fears confirmed that he thought it too.
His mood changed, as he said in a grave tone, “I would never think of you as an ambitious sort; your heart has always been pure, and your intentions are as true as they were when we were children. Let us have no more talk of the doctor or his machinations. Not when there are more important matters to discuss between us. I have a confession, Miss Edmundson. I feel the sting of guilt when I look at you, and when I smile and laugh with you. Do you find my joy after the death of my wife to be repugnant?”
“How can I find you repugnant? You lost someone you cared about, but you do not bring her dishonor by your joy. If she loved you, she would wish for your happiness. It was what I wished for when I saw you were married. My heart grieved for you, but I wanted you to be happy,” Beatrice said the truth in her heart and was shocked to hear her confession. With the realization of her words, she exclaimed, “Oh! I did not intend to say that. You must forget that I said anything of the sort. If you will excuse me,” she said as she strode towards the door, her face flushed from embarrassment.
“Beatrice, you cannot leave me after that admission. I, too, have an admission that I wish to say. It is the reason I asked you to speak with me this evening.”
“How can you wish to speak to me after what I said? It was never my intention to shock you.”
“Then we are in agreement. I have a confession I want to make to you. I implore you to hear me. When we were young, I never gave any consideration to my future. I knew I would become the duke; I was the only son of the Duke of Norwich, and it was my duty to inherit the title. As you and I grew together, passing from childhood to becoming who we are today, my duties became quite clear to me. I was honor-bound to marry a wife befitting my rank. I knew that my choice of wife was not entirely my decision. You were young when I entered into an engagement with my dear Eliza. She was kind in her way, but she was vain as any daughter of an earl could be. I desired to be wed, and she was the most suitable choice since I knew that I could not be wed to you.”
“Why, why could you not be wed to me?” Beatrice asked as she became aware that she was standing very near to Arthur.
“You were the daughter of a merchant, and I am second cousin to the Prince Regent. I did my duty to my title, to my family, and to my mother. I wished it could have been otherwise, but I was unable to change it. When Lydia arrived, I was beginning to accept my marriage, to care for Eliza in my way. It was not love, but it was mutual companionship and respect. When she died, I was gripped by guilt, consumed by it. You see, I think some part of me wanted to live my life with you, as we always had since we were children. To be with anyone else seemed wrong somehow.”
“Are you telling me that you care for me?” she whispered, afraid to utter the words aloud.
“I do care for you, but I am unable to do anything about that months after Eliza’s death. I respect her memory far too much for that. You’re a good woman, I know you understand. What I am asking from you, is that you will have patience. One day, when I have finished grieving for Eliza, and when her memory has been honored, I wish to marry you. I know I am asking you for far more than I deserve.”
Beatrice slowly reached out her hand to touch his face. He wrapped his hand around hers, kissing her hand as he gazed into her eyes.
“I have been patient; I have loved you since I was a girl. I will wait as long as I must if it means we shall be together. You have my word.”
Embracing Beatrice in his strong manly arms, the duke held her. She felt his strong heart beating inside his chest as she thought about the future. She was thrilled beyond measure that she would marry him one day, but also that she should become Lydia’s mother. It was as though she was that young girl who dreamed of Arthur—only this time, she did not have to dream any longer.
13
Two years later, on a warm spring day, Miss Beatrice Edmundson arrived at a stone church in the heart of Bath. She wore ivory silk, in her hands she carried a bouquet of orange blossoms, hothouse roses, and dried lavender. She was accompanied at the church by her dear family, her mother who was overcome with joy, her older brother and his wife, who were dressed in the latest London fashion, and her father, who was at her side. The Dowager Duchess of Norwich and her illustrious family filled the pews, as a small, dark-haired child stood by her grandmother, her smile as bright as the one worn by the bride.
That was how Beatrice remembered her own wedding as she stood in the back of the same church eight months later. The weather was cold, and her daughter Lydia would soon be joined by a baby brother or sister. Her belly was growing round every day as she tried to hide her astonishment each time the baby kicked inside her. As Duchess of Norwich, she should have been inside the church, seated in a place of honor in the first pew, but she refused to do so. One of her dearest friends was getting married, and she was going to fuss over her in every way she could.
“Your Grace, I’m so nervous, what if I faint?” the redhaired woman asked, as she bit her lip.
“Gertie, you will not faint. You have waited for three years for this day. Have you not?”
“I have, but I’m too old to be a bride!”
“No, you are not too old. Come now, what words of advice would you give to me?” Beatrice asked Gertie, as she adjusted the veil of the woman’s bonnet.
“I would tell you to be happy, that you were being married to the man you loved.”
“Mr. Forbes is waiting for you, Gertie. This is your day. From this day forward, you shall be a spinster no more. Take comfort and come on, we must not keep him waiting.”
“No, we must not, but who shall give me away?”
“I will if you will permit me to do so. Miss Chisolm, you have been a loyal and faithful nurse to my wife these years. Will you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you down the aisle?” Mr. Edmundson asked as he held out his arm.
“Thank you, sir, thank you, indeed.”
Rushing to the front of the church, Beatrice joined her husband and their daughter Lydia. As she watched Gertie walk down the aisle, she marveled at the way Mr. Forbes gazed at Gertie, with love in his eyes. Looking up at Arthur, she saw the same expression in his grey eyes. She leaned in close to him, reaching for his hand, as she thanked God that all her dreams had come true.
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About the Author
Eliza Heaton grew up enjoying the amazing landscapes of her hometown in Perth, near Edinburgh, Scotland. She often visited the Isle of Skye with her parents during her summers as a child and dreamed of becoming a writer. She attended university in Edinburgh where she completed her Masters in English Literature with a focus on the Victorian and Regency periods.
Eliza currently lives in the Dean Village area of Edinburgh, Scotland, where she can walk along the Water of Leith creating the characters for her books. Cathedrals, statues of viscounts, and castles welcome her as she walks and imagines the perfect love story to write next.
Lords, Love and Lies by Charlotte Fitzwilliam
A Lady Angelica Landerbelt Mystery
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
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About the Author
Prologue
Miss Arabella Wimble turned to her husband, closing her eyes tightly as the stench of liquor hit her full in the face. This was one of the most mortifying moments of her entire life, and she found that she could barely cope with the shame of it all.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
It was meant to be a joyous moment, but Arabella felt nothing but disgust and embarrassment. The church was utterly silent, and she could not even imagine what those who had come to witness their marriage must be thinking.
“My lord,” she murmured, holding out her arm and waiting for her husband to take it. “We must leave now.”
Viscount Anthony Fitzpatrick staggered away from her, his eyes half closed and a lopsided smile plastered on his face. “Must we?” he said, his words drooling out of his mouth. “Is it done?”
Arabella wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. Death was preferable to this, surely. The ton would be sure to talk about it all in the next few weeks, and she would be the laughingstock in all of London. Quite why Lord Fitzpatrick had agreed to marry her, she did not know, but it was quite plain that he did not exactly want to do so. He had met her on only two previous occasions and had barely glanced at her on both visits. The agreements had been made between his mother and her father, and for whatever reason, Lord Fitzpatrick had been unable to refuse, even though he was titled and wealthy in his own right.
Regency Engagements Box Set Page 18