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Regency Engagements Box Set

Page 62

by Charlotte Fitzwilliam


  “It was the truth!” he cried, stepping forward and catching her hand in his, holding it so tightly that she winced. “I have never once pretended that my desire to court you is anything other than genuine, Miss Burton. I have never even thought of marriage until I met you, and now it is all that I can think of, all that I can hope for.” His head lowered, and he closed his eyes again, his lips pulling taut. “Except now, it is further away from me than ever before, I know. I cannot imagine what you must think, what you must be considering when it comes to our acquaintance.” His eyes opened, and he looked down at her again, a depth of intensity in his eyes that finally began to penetrate through her pain. “The truth of my heart is this, Miss Burton.” Taking in a long breath, he set his shoulders and spoke carefully. “I have found my heart so filled with affection for you that I know now it must only be love. My love for you has grown steadily, with each day that has passed. I have yearned for your company, for your conversation. I have found myself mourning the loss of your presence when we are apart. And, throughout it all, I have felt my shame and my guilt overwhelming me, crushing me and breaking me apart so that I can hardly bear it!” His voice grew louder still, and he fell on his knees, his breeches scraping against the grass and the dirt, his hand still holding hers. “I fear I shall never have your forgiveness, Miss Burton, but I can only beg you to consider my plea. You have no reason to trust me, I know, and yet I find my heart begging for even the smallest of opportunities to prove myself to you, Miss Burton. I cannot help but pray that—”

  “No.”

  Ivy heard the word fall from her lips but did not realize it was she that had said it. It was as though the world around her had begun to hide itself away, the colors fading and the bright and happy songs of the birds in the trees becoming melancholy and sorrowful.

  “Miss Burton, I…” Lord Sutcliffe shook his head, lowering it, his eyes to the ground and his fingers slipping away from hers. Ivy felt only numbness as a coldness wrapped all through her, making her shiver. There was nothing else she wanted from Lord Sutcliffe now. He had betrayed her, and she had been foolish enough to believe him. Lady Landerbelt had been correct to tell her to be careful, to be wary. She had seen something in Lord Sutcliffe that Ivy herself had not. Her heart had been less than careful, and now she was paying the price for her foolishness. All that she had begun to hope for, all that she had begun to believe was possible, was gone in a moment.

  “You do not believe me.”

  She swallowed and looked down at him, a despondent figure kneeling before her.

  “How can I?” she whispered, her throat aching with the pain of what he had done. “How can I trust a single word that leaves your mouth?”

  He shrugged, throwing up a helpless glance towards her before dropping his head again. There was nothing more to be said, nothing that he could try to express that would make her even consider him again. Their acquaintance, their supposed regard for each other, was now at a complete end. She had been made a fool and would have to bear the consequences within her own heart, but to be in his company for a moment longer would only bring her even more distress. Turning her head away, Ivy pressed her lips together and forced threatening tears back. There was nothing left for her now. It was all gone, blown away by the strong, fierce wind of his lies and his deceit and leaving only deep, searing pain in its wake.

  6

  “Good gracious!”

  Ivy jerked in surprise, turning her head to see none other than her mother looking in at them both, her eyes wide and her mouth a perfect circle of surprise.

  “Mother,” Ivy said, suddenly awash with fear as she realized what sort of scene her mother had stumbled upon. “I—”

  “I do hope she has accepted you, Lord Sutcliffe!” Lady Bainbridge cried, rushing forward as Lord Sutcliffe quickly got to his feet. “Oh, just how wonderful is this moment! I did not think for a moment that you intended to propose to my daughter when I lingered behind, but I am very, very glad to see such a wonderful event.” She grasped Lord Sutcliffe’s hands before he could even utter a word, pressing them hard before standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Just think what Lady Stockbridge will say when I tell her!” she cried, rushing to Ivy and embracing her. “Her daughter is only engaged to a viscount, but my dear Ivy had found herself an earl!”

  With another cry of exultation, Lady Bainbridge rushed back along the path, evidently going to speak to Lady Stockbridge at once. Ivy stared after her, her mouth falling open as shock rifled through her. There was no way to prevent this now, she realized, as a cold hand settled over her heart. Her mother had taken the scene to be one of proposal, had made it quite clear that she expected Ivy to accept, and then had rushed off without even allowing Lord Sutcliffe or Ivy to speak.

  “Well,” Lord Sutcliffe began, sounding more than a little awkward. “It appears, Miss Burton, that we are to wed.” He came to stand beside her, looking down into her face with an expression of confusion and regret. “I am truly sorry. I did not intend—”

  “I am aware that you did not intend for this to happen, Lord Sutcliffe,” she told him tightly, a knot forming in her stomach as she and Lord Sutcliffe walked back to the path, already able to sight Lady Bainbridge gesturing excitedly in their direction. Tears began to burn in her eyes once more, her whole body trembling with the shock of all that had happened. She felt terribly weak and tired and was forced to reach out and lean on Lord Sutcliffe’s arm, who gave it to her at once. Her mind was too heavy with thoughts to allow her to say another word; she was hardly able to believe that the gentleman she had just refused, the one who had betrayed her and broken her heart, was now to be her husband.

  It was almost too much to bear. Forcing her tears back and keeping her head lifted, she leaned on Lord Sutcliffe as they walked back towards his carriage, praying desperately that she would have enough strength to keep her features composed until she arrived home and could hide away in her room.

  “I am sorry that this has happened when you do not even wish to be acquainted with me any longer,” Lord Sutcliffe murmured, as they passed Lady Bainbridge, who was now watching them with sheer joy in her eyes, her hands clasped underneath her chin. “I swear to you, Miss Burton, even though you may not yet believe it, that I will do all I can to be a good husband to you. I shall love you with all of my heart and soul, never turning back to the way that I once was.” His fingers reached across to press hers as she held tightly on to his arm. “I swear that to you now, hoping that one day soon, you may come to believe it.”

  She said nothing, blinking back her tears. Her mother was delighted, yes, but that came from not only seeing her daughter securing an excellent match that would raise her own standing a little, but also in the knowledge that she would be free of any responsibility for Ivy – not that she took much interest in her anyway. Everything was crowding in on top of her, leaving her feeling as though she was gasping for air as water poured over her head.

  “I promise you shall be happy again,” she heard Lord Sutcliffe say, a slight desperation in his voice as he looked at her. “I will do everything in my power to make it so.”

  Ivy shook her head. She could not believe him; she could not trust him. There was nothing but sorrow and sadness left for her and that was a burden she feared she would have to bear for some time to come.

  “Miss Burton, how very good to see you.”

  The moment those words left Lady Landerbelt’s lips, Ivy began to cry, broken completely by all that had occurred. Lady Landerbelt, who had not expected to see Ivy until the evening’s soiree, rose from her chair and once and hurried towards her, embracing her for a moment, before holding her by the shoulders and looking keenly into her face.

  “Good gracious, Miss Burton, whatever has occurred?”

  Ivy, who had managed to restrain her tears until this moment, having endured an hour of congratulations and refreshments with Lord Sutcliffe and her mother before he had taken his leave and she had managed to escape to Lady Landerbelt’s
home, broke down completely. Sobs racked her frame as Lady Landerbelt led her to a chair, sitting her down and then hurrying to ring the bell for tea—and perhaps something a little stronger.

  “Do tell me what has troubled you so,” Lady Landerbelt said gently, as she pressed a handkerchief into Ivy’s hand. “Is it your mother? Has she taken ill?”

  Ivy shook her head wordlessly, pressing the handkerchief into her eyes in an attempt to quieten her tears. It took some minutes before she was composed enough to speak, explaining to Lady Landerbelt in halting words all that had occurred. Lady Landerbelt’s face slowly drained of color, her hand holding tight to Ivy’s as she finished.

  “I am truly sorry,” Lady Landerbelt said softly, her eyes searching Ivy’s face. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Ivy sniffed and shook her head. “I should have listened to your sound advice and not allowed my heart to be so fickle,” she answered, brokenly. “I did try to speak to him about his intentions, only to lose myself in a swell of emotion.” She shook her head and once more pressed her handkerchief to her eyes. “How could I have been so foolish?”

  Lady Landerbelt let out a quick sigh, sat back in her seat, and looked thoughtfully around the room. Ivy gathered her composure, feeling a little better now that she had sobbed and spoken all of what had occurred to Lady Landerbelt, but still quite despondent and downcast.

  “You say that Lord Sutcliffe stated that he loves you?” Lady Landerbelt asked, as Ivy let out a bark of laughter. “You do not believe him, of course.”

  “How can I?” she asked, as the maid brought in the tea tray and set it down before them before being dismissed again. “He was in a wager with Lord Musgrave! I cannot trust that anything he states is the truth.”

  Lady Landerbelt nodded slowly, but her brows began to furrow. “However, he has not won his wager,” she said softly, reaching forward to pour the tea. “You offered him the opportunity to do so, and he refused it.” She tilted her head. “Does that not suggest that he might be speaking the truth?”

  Ivy frowned hard, her tears finally abating. She had not expected to hear such a thing from Lady Landerbelt, having thought that the lady would have been horrified by Lord Sutcliffe’s behavior and doing all she could to try to find a way to free Ivy from her accidental engagement.

  “He could have kissed you and then reported his achievement to Lord Musgrave, winning the wager and claiming whatever it is that he is to gain from Lord Musgrave,” Lady Landerbelt continued, adding a dash of milk to her tea and then to Ivy’s. “Is there a way that we might discover whether or not he is being truthful with his claims of love towards you?”

  Ivy shook her head, one hand curling tightly around her handkerchief. “I do not want to know whether or not he is truthful!” she cried, beginning to feel as though Lady Landerbelt did not understand her at all. “There is no desire within me to do so.”

  Lady Landerbelt said nothing for a moment, lifting her teacup to her lips and taking a small sip before setting it back down on the china saucer. “No?” she asked softly, a hint of a challenge in her voice. “Are you quite certain, Miss Burton? I am sure that you admitted to me only recently that you had a gentle affection for him.”

  Closing her eyes, Ivy let heat climb up into her face without making any attempt to hide her shame. “Does that not show that I am ever more of a fool than I now currently appear?” she asked, lowering her eyes from Lady Landerbelt’s sympathetic expression as a tangle of thoughts and feelings made its way through her mind. “I do not even want to recall what I said or expressed as regards Lord Sutcliffe.”

  “But why should you not?” Lady Landerbelt pressed, as Ivy picked up her teacup. “I know that he has done a great many things wrong, Miss Burton, but if he is true in his affections and as determined as he says to set his previous ways behind him, then surely there is an opportunity for you to find a happiness that you have long been seeking.” Her words were like fiery darts to Ivy’s soul, and she set her teacup down with a little less gentleness than she had intended.

  “But he has lied to me!” she cried, as though Lady Landerbelt did not understand. “And now I find that I am engaged to him, thanks to my mother’s foolishness and her eager desire to have it known that I have made a more excellent match than she could ever have hoped for!” Tears bit at her eyes again, but this time, they were ones of anger, as a swirling heat settled in her stomach, beginning to rise up within her. “I am to be wed to a gentleman I do not even know and one I cannot begin to trust.”

  Lady Landerbelt let out a long breath, squaring her shoulders and looking Ivy straight in the eye. “Then we must be practical about this,” she said firmly. “The truth is, Miss Burton, you cannot escape your engagement. To cry off would be disastrous, and I do not think your mother would permit you to do so! Lord Sutcliffe, despite his faults, seems quite willing to continue on with your engagement and that speaks in his favor.” She smiled and picked up the tray of cakes and small sandwiches that the cook had thoughtfully prepared, offering it to Ivy who, out of habit rather than hunger, took one.

  “I suppose that is true,” Ivy admitted slowly, not wanting to allow herself to feel anything other than anger and upset at this present time but already fully aware that she had to at least accept what Lady Landerbelt was saying. “I know that he was desperate to apologize, to express his sorrow and regret to me, but I cannot help but struggle with all that has gone on between us, with all that I felt.”

  “And those feelings still remain,” Lady Landerbelt said gently. “They may be covered with grief and pain at present, but I can assure you that such feelings do not simply disappear within a moment.” Picking up a honey cake, she ate it quickly, not at all in the proper manner, but with the quickness that came with an urgent situation. “Therefore, if we were to have Lord Sutcliffe prove his love for you, prove his intention to step away from the behaviors of the past, then surely that will bring you a fresh hope that he is truthful in all he says and that his love for you is as real as he says it to be.”

  Ivy sipped her tea and let the hot liquid spread warmth through her chest. She was going from one emotion to the next in what felt like a whirlwind pushing her from one place to another in a matter of moments. And yet, through it all, came the quiet stillness of understanding that was in Lady Landerbelt’s words.

  Ivy closed her eyes and searched her heart. Yes, it was as Lady Landerbelt said. There was pain and sorrow, grief and betrayal, but underneath it all there remained that affection for Lord Sutcliffe. In fact, it was precisely that feeling that sent her into such a cloud of despair, she realized, her chest rising and falling with great, heavy sighs that seemed to rip from her very soul.

  It means that you have to admit to yourself that there is still a desire to be near to him, a sliver of faith that he might be truthful in his declarations.

  “Miss Burton?”

  Opening her eyes, Ivy let out another long breath but felt her whirling emotions begin to calm. Lady Landerbelt spoke wisely and she had every reason to listen to her.

  “What is it you suggest, Lady Landerbelt?” she asked, seeing Lady Landerbelt smile gently before she reached for her cup of tea to take another warming sip. “For if you are right – and I believe you are – then I will soon be standing beside Lord Sutcliffe in church and making my vows before God and man.” She forced herself to smile, ignoring the quaking fear that came with that awareness. “I will listen to anything you have to say.”

  “I thank you for your faith in me,” Lady Landerbelt answered. “Now, here is what I propose we do.”

  7

  Timothy could not remember a time in his life when he had ever felt as wretched as this. He had spent the last four days putting on a façade whenever he went out into town, accepting the congratulations of those around him whilst, inwardly his heart was struggling to beat with the weight of his guilt bearing down upon it.

  Of Miss Burton, he had seen no sign. They were to attend a ball together this evenin
g, although she would be present with both Lady Landerbelt and her mother and had, through notes exchanged from one household to the next, rebuffed his offer to come to accompany her in his own carriage.

  The carriage bounced Timothy this way and that as it made its way through the quiet London streets. The ball was hosted by an acquaintance of his, Lord Somerville, who would, no doubt, raise some sort of toast to Timothy’s recent engagement, even though that was the last thing Timothy wanted. Sighing to himself, he sat forward in his seat and put his head in his hands.

  What a mess he had made of it all. Even from the very first time he had met Miss Burton – or, rather, the time she had walked away from him – he had acted foolishly. He had let his pride and arrogance become hurt by her lack of interest in him and, from that, had behaved recklessly. And yet, despite his idiocy, a part of him was grateful. Grateful that he could now see himself as he truly was, that he could look back in disgust at his own foolishness and conceit. If he had never met Miss Burton, then he might have continued on with such a life for many a year, perhaps treating his future wife and children with the same disrespect he had once shown Miss Burton.

  “She is much too lovely for someone such as I,” he muttered to himself, as the carriage came to a stop just outside Lord Somerville’s townhouse. That was the truth of it, he knew, and he had no qualms in admitting it aloud to anyone who sought to ask him. Miss Burton was kindness and sweetness itself. Other gentlemen might think her less than perfect with the scar to her cheek, but Timothy only saw her loveliness. The beauty of her character, the gentleness of her spirit and the pleasantness of her conversation shone through, making him all the more in awe of her. He had not once considered that he might be the sort of gentleman to fall in love, considering the idea to be more than a little ridiculous, but now that he knew what such an emotion felt like, Timothy understood how it could be all consuming, capturing his heart and mind entirely.

 

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