Regency Engagements Box Set

by Charlotte Fitzwilliam

  “Send him in,” Anthony replied, rubbing his chin and feeling the telltale roughness against his fingers. “Although I fear it may take some time to give me any appearance of respectability today.”

  Throwing a glance over his shoulder, Anthony grinned as he saw his butler’s stoic face remain as entirely frozen in inexpression as ever. No matter what he said or did, his butler’s face never calmed from calm understanding, nor did he ever betray his own feelings or thoughts on anything that Anthony said or did. It was what made him such an effective butler, Anthony supposed, getting up from his chair and yawning widely as he stretched.

  A glance in the mirror had him groaning aloud. His bloodshot eyes were shrouded by shadows, with fresh lines seemingly etched into his face. He looked haggard, as though he had been through some dreadful ordeal that he had not even begun to recover from.

  “It will take a good deal of time indeed,” he muttered dryly to himself, rubbing one hand over his eyes. “I doubt even my valet can make me a respectable today.”

  Some two hours later and Anthony was already regretting allowing his friend to call upon him so early in the afternoon. It seemed that Lord Thompson had, as Anthony had expected, fallen desperately in love with a lady he had only just become reacquainted with.

  “I declare to you, Fitzpatrick, she is the most delicate of creatures,” Lord Thompson declared, marching up and down in front of the large windows that were at one end of the drawing room. “I have never had the opportunity to regard her in the way I do now, but I see her as though for the very first time!” He turned towards Anthony with wide eyes, as though he expected Anthony to be agreeing with everything he was saying.

  “I do not much care what you do or whom you court,” Anthony said firmly, waving a hand in his friend’s direction. “You know very well that I think you utterly ridiculous.”

  Lord Thompson’s face fell. “Truly?”

  “Indeed,” Anthony replied flatly. “You have declared yourself half in love with at least three different ladies this last month, which makes this particular lady of quality to be the fourth.”

  Lord Thompson’s expression twisted. “But this is quite different, I assure you,” he said earnestly, clearly not at all put off by Anthony’s remarks. “I have known Lady Ward for some time, have I not? I knew her when her husband still lived and, of course, did not for one moment ever consider her to be a viable prospect.” He drew himself up. “I am not that sort of gentleman.”

  “No, of course you are not,” Anthony said dryly. “Regardless, I hardly think that—”

  “I think I shall have to attempt to court her,” Lord Thompson declared, interrupting Anthony entirely. “She is out of the period of mourning and she is in town, is she not? The Season is precisely for making matches and the like. I do hope she will be so inclined, for if she is not, then my heart will be quite broken.”

  “Until you decide to find another young lady to cry over,” Anthony replied, pushing himself out of his seat and stretching his arms wide. “Now, Thompson, if you do not mind, I think I will go for a short walk.” He smiled and ignored the stab of guilt that thrust through his heart in the knowledge of what he had to prepare for this evening. “I am to go to Lord Winton’s ball this evening.”

  Lord Thompson looked thoroughly delighted at this news. “As am I,” he said with a grin. “And as for the short walk, do you mind if I join you? I might come across Lady Ward and her friend, Lady…”

  “Stanley,” Anthony supplied helpfully, remembering the green-eyed young widow and feeling his interest stirred.

  “Indeed, Lady Stanley,” Lord Thompson agreed cheerfully. “Then you might walk with Lady Stanley and I with Lady Ward!”

  Anthony shook his head firmly. “I do not think that would be a wise idea, Thompson,” he said, slicing the air with his hand. “You cannot push yourself into her attentions so quickly. You will only give her the impression that you are much too eager and she will turn from that. Remember that she is a widow of apparently independent means.” Besides which, Anthony thought to himself, I do not particularly want to walk with Lady Stanley, no matter how much I am caught by her emerald gaze. I have much to prepare for this evening without becoming distracted.

  “Poppycock,” Lord Thompson laughed, shaking his head. “You will enjoy her company, just as you have done with other women of the ton on countless other occasions.” So saying he walked towards the door and beckoned Anthony towards it, as though it had been he who had come up with the idea of taking a short stroll to take the air. “Do hurry up.”

  Gritting his teeth and praying silently that they would not come across Lady Ward and her friend, Anthony stalked towards the door. Taking a long breath, he hurried out after Lord Thompson, resigning himself that he was not to have the afternoon to himself as he had first planned.

  “It is a fine day.”

  Anthony rolled his eyes. “You have said that on three separate occasions, Thompson,” he said wearily. “There must be some other remark that you can come up with.”

  Lord Thompson sighed wearily. “It is just that we have been forty minutes in this park and I have not seen even a single sign of Lady Ward.”

  “Mayhap she does not wish to walk in the park today,” Anthony commented, thinking that he might try to escape from Lord Thompson’s company very soon. “Not everyone wishes to be seen by every other member of the beau monde, as much as that might surprise you.” He stiffened suddenly, his eyes catching sight of an approaching gentleman. Swallowing hard, Anthony held his head high, refusing to show any sign of intimidation.

  “Ah, Lord Hollander,” Lord Thompson said, greeting the earl with a prolonged inclination of his head. “How good to see you this afternoon.”

  “Thompson.” Lord Hollander gave a derisory sniff, as though even speaking Lord Thompson’s name aloud was unwelcome.

  “Good afternoon, Hollander,” Anthony muttered, seeing the man frown. “It is a fine day, is it not?”

  Lord Hollander was a thin man, whose long pronounced nose and small, beady eyes gave him an almost eagle-like appearance. He seemed always ready to strike, and his harsh words were well known amongst the beau monde. Unfortunately, Anthony knew all too well that whatever the earl wanted, the earl was certain to receive—one way or the other.

  “You appear to be in very good health,” Lord Hollander said, eyeing Anthony carefully. “You have recovered from last evening’s overindulgence then?”

  Anthony did not want to ask how Lord Hollander knew about his “overindulgence” of liquor last evening, given that the fellow had not been present. It was simply another reminder that Lord Hollander was well aware of all that Anthony was doing, which, in turn, reminded Anthony that he had no way to escape from the fellow’s demands.

  “I have,” he said tartly, as Lord Thompson looked on in confusion.

  “And you are to attend Lord Winton’s ball this evening, I understand,” Lord Hollander continued, his tone as jovial as before but his eyes holding a grave seriousness that Anthony completely understood. “Is that not so?”

  Anthony swallowed hard, hating that a trickle of sweat was running down his spine. “It is,” he stated clearly, praying that Lord Thompson would not interrupt and ask outright how Lord Hollander knew such a thing. “Are you also to be in attendance?” He watched the man carefully and saw how his dark eyes flickered.

  “I have been invited, of course, but at present, I am already engaged,” Lord Hollander replied with a small shrug. “It is the constant difficulty that I am faced with – the knowledge that my company is requested by almost all of the beau monde at any one time.” Sighing heavily, he shook his head as though such a thing dismayed him. “Not that I could expect either yourself or Lord Thompson to understand such a dilemma.”

  Anthony gritted his teeth but found himself nodding, knowing that he had no choice but to agree with the man. “Of course not,” he replied harshly. “Now, if you will excuse us, Lord Hollander, I see that there is a parti
cular lady just arrived in the park that my friend is eager to see. If you will excuse us.”

  This seemed to throw Lord Thompson’s confusion to one side completely, for he jumped in surprise and then turned his head to stare in the direction that Anthony had only just gestured to. Anthony watched as Thompson’s face broke into a wide smile, his eyes flaring with delight.

  It seemed they were to walk with Lady Ward and Lady Stanley after all, and despite all of his previous misgivings, Anthony found himself rather relieved that the ladies had decided to take a walk in the park after all. It was a good way to escape the company of Lord Hollander, who—at the least—was forced to take his leave of them both.

  Lord Thompson bowed, muttered something vague in Lord Hollander’s direction, and then took off at speed in search of Lady Ward. Anthony made to follow him, biding Lord Hollander farewell, only for the man’s bony hand to shoot out and grasp Anthony’s hand tightly.

  “You know what is expected of you this evening, Fitzpatrick,” Lord Hollander grated, his brows furrowing low over his dark, beady eyes. “I will not expect anything less from you.”

  “I am well aware of what you expect,” Anthony replied, jerking his arm away hard. “And as you are well aware, you know I can have nothing to say but to agree.”

  Lord Hollander chuckled under his breath, and Anthony felt his skin crawl, his anger and frustration burrowing into his heart.

  “When will you let her free?” he hissed, wishing he could grasp Lord Hollander by the throat and shake him violently until he finally agreed to stop torturing Anthony in such a way. “Three years I have done what you asked in order to prevent you from spreading the truth about what you know. I have been kept from my home and from my bride because of your wickedness.”

  Lord Hollander laughed full in Anthony’s face, making his hands curl into fists. “It is not my wickedness that need concern you,” he replied, as though Anthony’s frustration meant nothing. “I have remained silent, as I have promised, have I not? What more could you ask me for?”

  Anthony’s jaw set, his anger flaring bright. There was nothing that he could say in response to this, nothing that he could do to help him bring this terrible situation to an end. His future opened up to him as a long, dark, bleak road that gave no hope or light with which he might cling to. For as long as Lord Hollander demanded it, it seemed that Anthony would forever be in his service, kept from his estate and from his wife, to whom he had already done so much wrong.

  “You had better hurry along now,” Lord Hollander continued, as though talking to a small child. “Your friend is waiting for you, and I should not like you to be tardy.”

  Anthony stepped aside, not wanting to spend another moment in Lord Hollander’s presence. Hating himself for his inability to find a single word of response to the gentleman’s odious threats and the power he held over Anthony, he stalked away as quickly as he could, his eyes fixed on Lord Thompson who was already standing talking to Lady Ward and Lady Stanley.

  He could feel Lord Hollander’s eyes boring into his back, and as though carried towards him on the air, he heard a cackle of triumphant laughter that wound its way into his soul and lingered there as a reminder of all that he had become.

  4

  “So, your husband has not recognized you.”

  Arabella shook her head, feeling her embarrassment mount as she shot a look towards Lady Landerbelt.

  “It is nothing to be ashamed about,” Lady Landerbelt declared, as they wandered through the crowd of guests at Lord Winton’s ball. “I think it is something of a triumph in fact.”

  Arabella allowed her brows to lift in surprise. “Triumph?”

  “Indeed,” Lady Landerbelt happily replied, “for now you have the advantage.”

  “The advantage in what?” Arabella replied, still deeply unhappy over how insignificant she knew herself now to be in the eyes of her husband. “He does not yet know who I am and evidently cares very little for the fact that his wife is, as far as he thinks, still residing back in the estate alone.” She shook her head in an attempt to hide the tears that were pricking in the corners of her eyes. “I feel nothing but shame, Lady Landerbelt. I do not feel any advantage.”

  Lady Landerbelt smiled sympathetically, her eyes alight with compassion. “Forgive me, Arabella – would you mind terribly if I called you so?”

  Arabella shook her head mutely, still concentrating on pushing her tears back.

  “Forgive me, Arabella,” Lady Landerbelt said again. “In my haste, I have not stopped to consider how you might be feeling. That was wrong of me, and I must seek your forgiveness for it.” She looped her arm through Arabella’s and drew her to a corner of the ballroom. “You are troubled and understandably so. There is no reason for your husband to have remained away from his estate, as far as I can see, which means there is something hidden.”

  A little puzzled, Arabella frowned and looked back at Lady Landerbelt. “Hidden?”

  “Indeed.” Lady Landerbelt’s smile was cheerful, her apology now accepted completely by Arabella. “Whatever his reason is for not returning to you, you must discover it.”

  Arabella stopped walking and pulled her arm from Lady Landerbelt, feeling the immediate kick of fear in her stomach. “How can I discover it?” she asked with uncertainty. “I do not know him very well at all, and I cannot think that he would simply share such a thing with me.”

  Lady Landerbelt looked triumphant. “I heard that you both enjoyed a pleasant walk in the park together, is that not so?”

  Arabella swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “It was…adequate,” she replied, attempting to keep her voice steady. “But what does that matter?”

  A small smile lifted Lady Landerbelt’s lips. “It is an excellent start, Arabella. Clearly, he is content to enjoy your company, and since you shared a good conversation together, he will be eager to do so again. Therefore, you shall grow close to him then, Arabella. How else will he tell you the truth?”

  The fear in Arabella’s heart began to multiply almost immediately. “No, indeed I cannot,” she stated, her eyes widening. “I do not want to become close to my husband.”

  Lady Landerbelt tipped her head, a questioning look in her eyes. “But why not?” she asked, forcing the question into Arabella’s mind. “You are his wife after all, are you not?”

  “Because I do not want to think that my husband would even consider giving his affections to another, when his wife is supposedly at his estate,” Arabella replied firmly, the idea making her stomach twist with a fierce nausea. “I confess that I do not know whether or not he has…a mistress.” The word was forced. “But I do not want him to reveal the severe lack of character that is found within him, not to me. Not when I am his wife.”

  Lady Landerbelt shook her head sympathetically. “Do you not?” she asked pointedly. “Do you not want to know your husband for who he truly is? It may be, Arabella, that you are surprised by what you find. Do not immediately think that he has remained in London simply to avoid you, for I cannot bring myself to believe that such a thing is the truth. No matter how much a gentleman dislikes his wife or the circumstances surrounding his marriage, he would not simply remain in town for three years, not when he has duties and responsibilities to the title.”

  Closing her eyes tightly, Arabella took in a long breath. “What do you mean, Lady Landerbelt?” Opening her eyes again and trying to steady herself, she looked into Lady Landerbelt’s face. “I do not quite understand what you are trying to say.”

  “I am stating that Lord Fitzpatrick may have good reason to keep away from his estate, reasons that are not solely bound up with you,” Lady Landerbelt calmly replied. “I cannot suggest what they may be, for in truth, I do not know, but I do wonder if growing close to Lord Fitzpatrick might allow him to reveal some of the truth to you. If he cares for you, then he might…”

  “It is all very convoluted,” Arabella interrupted, putting one hand to her forehead. “I am quite dizzy with it a
ll, Lady Landerbelt…not that I do not appreciate your insight.”

  A quick smile crashed across Lady Landerbelt’s expression. “It is not, perhaps, what you were expecting.”

  “No, indeed not,” Arabella agreed, suddenly feeling a trifle weak with the shock of what Lady Landerbelt wanted her to do. “But at the very least, I shall consider it. After all, Cecelia wishes me to trust your judgement, and given that I trust her impeccably…” She shrugged. “I just need to think on it a little longer.”

  Lady Landerbelt nodded her understanding. “But of course,” she said, amiably. “Now, why do you not take a little respite? You look quite done in, and I would not want you to faint or the like at such a magnificent ball! You will be certain to have many eligible young gentlemen seeking out your hand for a dance very soon, I am quite certain of it!”

  Arabella laughed and lifted up her arm. “But I have no dance card, as you see,” she replied, feeling a little better. “I was not particularly inclined towards dancing this evening and so decided not to avail myself of a card. Although, I do think that I shall go and rest for a short time. There are rooms hereabouts, are there not?”

  “Indeed.” Quickly, Lady Landerbelt gave Arabella some instructions as to where she might go to rest for a short while, knowing both Lord Winton and his house remarkably well.

  “I thank you,” Arabella replied, taking her leave of Lady Landerbelt. “And if you should find my sister, might you inform her as to where I have gone?”

  “I shall, of course,” Lady Landerbelt replied, a small smile creeping across her mouth. “Although I do think that she is quite caught up with another particular gentleman – Lord Thompson – although whether it is that she simply cannot remove herself from the conversation, I cannot say!”

  Arabella chuckled and took her leave, knowing that her sister was quite determined not to become inclined towards any gentleman of any sort, which suggested, most likely, that Lord Thompson was the one insisting on continuing with their conversation. He had been particularly eager to walk and converse with Cecelia during their short walk in the park, and Arabella was a little surprised to hear that he was by her sister’s side again. The gentleman was evidently quite determined when it came to his acquaintance with Cecelia! Nevertheless, Cecelia was well able to take care of her own matters, which meant that Arabella did not need to worry about her.