Regency Engagements Box Set

by Charlotte Fitzwilliam

  According to Jeweliana’s mother – who had been out and about talking to as many people as she could – most of the ton were simply astonished that Lord Darlington had managed to find himself a bride. The beau monde had expected him to spend a few more years as a bachelor before finally settling down, so the news that Jeweliana had secured both his hand and, from what they believed from his kiss, his heart, had been completely astonishing.

  THE NOTICE of their engagement had been posted in the paper, and the banns were due to be called a week on Sunday, in Lady Jeweliana’s home parish. They would wed there; it had been decided, away from London and with a very select group of guests. Jeweliana was quite happy with that decision, thinking that the sooner she removed from town, the better.

  SITTING BACK DOWN AGAIN, Lady Jeweliana drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair, wondering if Lord Darlington intended to call on her today. Since the shock of what had happened had begun to wear off, she had found herself increasingly eager to see him, her heart suddenly filled with not only forgiveness for what he had done but also a gratitude. When she had heard Lord Michaels speak of her in such lowly terms, revealing to her his true nature as well as his true intentions, it was as if scales had fallen from her eyes. She had seen him for who he truly was – and had seen Lord Darlington’s true character. He had given up his dreams of a good few years more of bachelorhood in order to save her from what would have been a very unfortunate marriage. She could not help but be grateful to him for doing so.

  COUPLED with that came the rush of tenderness and affection she had allowed to blossom forth in the last two days. There was no need to hide it from herself any longer. He was to be her husband and so Jeweliana supposed that it was a good thing to have an affection for one’s spouse. A rush of nerves went straight to her belly as she wondered whether Lord Darlington himself might ever come to feel something for her. There was a slight niggle of worry that he would one day resent her, blaming her for the lack of freedom he now had.

  “THERE IS SO much to talk about,” she murmured to herself, just as the door to the drawing room opened behind her.

  “THEN I HOPE you will allow me to converse with you,” came a low voice and, turning in her seat, Lady Jeweliana saw Lord Darlington standing in the doorway. Clearing his throat, he came in a little more, leaving the door open behind him. “I have just come from speaking with your father, to ensure that he received my full apology for going about things the way I did as well as to make certain that he is completely at ease with me taking you as my wife.”

  LADY JEWELIANA ROSE, a murmur of worry in her heart. “And?” Lord Darlington gave her a half smile. “He is more than content, apparently. The lack of scandal from my behavior has helped that, I think.”

  NODDING, Jeweliana placed her hands behind her back and looked at him carefully. “Would you like to come in and sit down?”

  HE SHOOK HIS HEAD, and her heart sank.

  “I WOULD MUCH PREFER to take you for a short walk,” he said, quietly. “We might speak better when we are not required to have a servant keeping us company. The bookshop, perhaps? We would be well away from the eyes of the ton should we visit there, and it is early enough in the afternoon that not too many will be out and about.”

  THERE WAS no hesitation on her part and, within a few minutes, Lady Jeweliana found herself arm in arm with her betrothed, walking along the streets of London.

  NOTHING MUCH WAS SAID between them as they walked, only a few brief questions regarding how she had been and how she was taking it all. Lady Jeweliana was glad to be able to say that she was much improved, finding a contentedness with the situation that she had not expected. Looking up at him, she saw him smile at her with a tenderness in his eyes that shot flames into her heart. Catching her breath, she looked away, a sudden spiral of nervousness in her stomach.

  “IN HERE, I THINK,” Lord Darlington murmured, turning into a little side street and Jeweliana followed him at once, stepping into a small dusty bookshop which appeared to have no-one but the shopkeeper within it. The man did not say a word but simply nodded to them both, and Jeweliana followed Lord Darlington up a small flight of stairs that led to the second floor.

  SHELVES LINED the walls with some free-standing bookcases in the middle of the floor. There were so many books, she did not know where to start, wrinkling her nose a little at the dustiness of some of them.

  “ONE CAN EASILY GET LOST in here,” Lord Darlington murmured, with a mischievous lilt to his voice, turning his head to look at her over his shoulder. “Pick any book you like, Jeweliana. There are some wonderful treasures here, but you must search to find them.”

  THE BOOKS HELD no interest to Lady Jeweliana. She simply wanted to talk to Lord Darlington, and so, as he stepped behind one of the bookcases, she reached out and caught his arm.

  HE TURNED AND, before she could say a word, caught her up in his arms. His mouth found hers, pressing against it lightly as though waiting for her to respond. Tense with surprise, it took Jeweliana a few moments to relax, her body softening as her arms found their way around his neck.

  THIS FELT RIGHT. It made her heart sing as her worries drifted away completely, to be forgotten forever. Lord Darlington was fond of her, she could tell. There was a passion in his kiss that he managed to rein in, his head angling just a little to deepen their kiss. Her mind swam, her thoughts growing incoherent as he held her tightly, expressing the emotions he could not quite say through his kiss.

  WHEN HE FINALLY BROKE THEIR kiss, her breathing was as ragged as his. Jeweliana swallowed and looked away, feeling a heat in her cheeks.

  “YOU DO NOT NEED to be embarrassed,” Lord Darlington murmured, softly. “I expect we shall do that a great many times in our life together.”

  AWARE that he still held her around the waist, Lady Jeweliana lifted her eyes to his and smiled gently, still feeling herself a little embarrassed. It was the first time she had ever been kissed in such a way, and the feelings it gave her were almost entirely overwhelming.

  “I AM SORRY,” he said, quietly. “That is the second time I have kissed you without any warning – although at least this time, I have every right to do so.”

  LADY JEWELIANA’S smile stretched all the wider. “Lord Darlington, I –”

  “I INSIST that you call me ‘Joshua,’ for ‘Darlington’ is such a mouthful,” he murmured, running one finger down her cheek.

  “And I must assume that, from your reaction, you have quite forgiven me for what I have done.”

  “I THINK I HAVE,” Jeweliana replied, truthfully. “I heard the truth from Lord Michaels own mouth, and I have no one to blame but myself for refusing to listen to you earlier. Indeed, I would not allow myself to even look at you!”

  HE TIPPED HIS HEAD, curiosity growing in his eyes. “And why was that?”

  A FAINT BLUSH darkened her cheeks. The time to be honest with him was on her and yet she found herself struggling to speak. “I – I did not want to let myself…I mean, I thought that if I spent more time with you, then the feelings I was trying to hide from myself would grow all the more. I could not allow that to happen.” She shot him a rueful smile. “After all, I was meant to be doing all I could to separate myself from you!” MUCH TO HER SURPRISE, Lord Darlington threw back his head and laughed, shaking his head. When he looked at her, the mirth in his eyes made her smile, even though she did not know why.

  “OH, MY DEAR JEWELIANA,” he said, eventually. “I was doing the very same, in my own way. It was only when I saw you dancing with and conversing with other gentlemen that I began to realize what it was I felt. I convinced myself that it was a ridiculous notion, but then when I discovered the truth about what Lord Michaels felt, I knew I had to do something.” He caught her hands in his as his smile grew tender. “I do not have any kind of regret in kissing you as I did, in declaring ourselves engaged. There is no remorse in me, no wishing it away. I think myself the luckiest man in all of England to be able to call you my own.”

 
HARDLY ABLE TO BELIEVE WHAT she was hearing, Jeweliana let out a hoarse laugh which was caught by his lips as he leaned down to kiss her again. This was all much too wonderful to take in, her wildest dreams coming true before her very eyes.

  “MY DEAR JEWELIANA,” he whispered against her mouth, his hands holding her tight. “I never once thought that I should say these words, but they are said now with nothing but truth and honesty tying them together. I lay my heart out to you, just as it is. I love you, my dear. I love you with all that I have, and I swear to you that I shall spend every day of our marriage making sure you know just how much you are adored.”

  JEWELIANA BLINKED AWAY HAPPY TEARS, her hands pressed lightly against his chest. Her own heart was as open as his, swelling with all the deep affection she had for him. Their path had been long and winding, taking them apart before finally leading them back together again. Finally, she would marry a man who loved her in the way she had always hoped for.

  “I LOVE YOU, JOSHUA,” she replied, softly, her whole being alive with happiness. “I swear to you to love you from this day on, knowing that it will only grow with each day that passes.” HE SMILED AT HER THEN, before kissing her again gently. As Jeweliana rested against him, her lips caught with a delighted smile. Her parents had been right. She and Lord Darlington would make a very happy couple, with a marriage tied together by the bonds of love. Her future was very bright indeed.

  THE END

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  About the Author

  Charlotte Fitzwilliam was raised in Manchester, England and graduated from University in London with a Masters of English, which focused on 18th Century and Romantic Studies. Her passion since young adulthood was reading and writing romantic regency stories.

  Charlotte feels like she is living a dream life as she often brings coffee or tea to the country side. She sits beneath a tree with her laptop to dream and write about proud dukes and ladies in long dresses falling in love.

  Wanted by the Duke - by Charlotte Fitzwilliam

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

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  Thank You!

  About the Author

  1

  The flame of the candle flickered in the dark room, providing only enough light to illuminate the wooden desk, which stood in the Earl of Dunkirk’s study. The outer edges of the page, which lay in front of Lord Fredrick Dunkirk, curled to the ceiling, beckoning to be relieved of their torture. The drapes of the study were closed tightly, as the earl wished to be isolated from any sign of light.

  His fingers raked through his disheveled dark brown hair, which in the public eye was immaculately parted to the side, not a hair out of place. His green eyes were not as bright as they once were, and the sadness inside his clearly shone through. His broad shoulders were hunched as he attempted not to allow the crippling heartache to affect him too deeply, but it was all in vain. His heart was torn as he reached for the quill which would allow his heart to finally bleed out onto the page.

  When Lord Dunkirk heard the news of Lady Marjorie, the eldest daughter of the Earl and Countess of Burkett, it took him very much by surprise. Mere weeks prior to her death, Lord Dunkirk had spent a lovely evening with Lady Marjorie, and her younger sister, Lady Mirabell, at a ball held in honor of her entering society for the first time. It had been a magnificent and elegant affair, despite his and Lady Mirabell’s tendencies to be a little less graceful than they were imagined to be.

  Fredrick could still imagine the beautiful and carefree Mirabell, with her mesmerizing grey eyes which managed to have him catching his breath whenever she gazed upon him. The earl still recalled her long light brown hair which had been as wayward as she had been, falling into her face at the most random of times. There had been many times when Lord Dunkirk had to resist the urge to brush those wayward locks off her face, at the risk of awakening the urge to kiss her.

  Lady Mirabell had been the woman he had set his eyes on, but he did not make it known to her that he had felt this way. He was not certain for his reasoning behind this decision, but he regretted it every moment after he had left for Bath.

  The death of his father, the late Marquess of Danbury, a few days after Mirabell’s ball, had taken its toll on his family, and he was needed at his father’s estate. He regretted leaving Mirabell, but he simply had no other choice in the matter. Lord Dunkirk had been the sole heir to his father’s title and estate, but he refused to take his father’s title. He had lived in his father’s shadow for much too long. He did not want an unattainably high expectation of himself. He decided that he would not attempt to be the man his father had been. At best, he would accept it as his secondary title, but with much reluctance.

  Now, five months later, he had finally built up the courage to write to Lady Mirabell, but it would not surprise him in the least if Mirabell did not respond. In fact, he would most certainly not blame her in the least.

  Before starting his letter to her, Lord Dunkirk’s hand gracefully glided across the page as he wrote her name at the very top. He shared his sadness regarding the passing of Lady Marjorie and offered his deepest condolences to her and her family.

  Lord Dunkirk also apologized to Lady Mirabell for leaving her, and not being able to be present for her sister’s funeral. He mentioned how strange it had been to not spend time with her any longer and hoped that she would come for a visit, if she felt up to the task.

  Lord Dunkirk signed his name at the bottom and sat back in his chair, waiting for the ink to dry. He reread his own words multiple times as he waited. Reaching for the top drawer beside him, he retrieved a leather-bound book and placed it on the desk. He opened it slowly, and a smile formed on his lips as he gazed at the dried pressed wildflower which he had placed there a few weeks ago. He had not planned on giving it to anyone but simply wanted it as a reminder of the days he spent between the flowers and trees of Lady Mirabell’s father’s estate gardens.

  There had been many times when the earl was tempted to travel to Bristol to visit Lady Mirabell, but due to circumstances beyond his control, it had not been possible.

  Lord Dunkirk gently placed the dried wildflower on the letter and folded it carefully before sealing it with a lump of red wax.

  His intention was to write Lady Mirabell a letter every day for thirty days, to remind her that although life may seem bleak and filled with nothing but heartache, tragedy, and emptiness, the sun would come out from behind the clouds of her misery and light up her world once again.

  As she had lit up his world.

  Lord Dunkirk wrote her address on the outside, the address which would remain etched in his mind for the entirety of his life, and a smile formed on his lips. Hope filled his heart as he stood from the desk and proceeded to make his way through the hallways to his bedchambers. He blew out the candle, immersing himself in complete darkness, knowing things would simply be better than they had been the past few months.

  2

  Lady Mirabell Blackthorn turned her sad grey eyes to the small w
indow of the fancy coach she had been riding in, accompanied by her parents, Lord and Lady Burkett, the Earl and Countess of Burkett. It was only until she gazed through the window at the unfamiliar green hills and dirt roads when she realized she had lost track of time while she was immersed in deep thoughts. Happy memories had turned to pain as she watched green trees and brown dirt roads pass by for an amount of time that she had not counted. The sky was grey, resembling the overcast state of her heart, the tears threatening to spill from her eyes at any given moment. She could see the wisps of light brown hair that hung from the side of her head through the glass as she tried, to no avail, to make out where they were now.

  Lady Mirabell had remained silent for most of the trip despite her beloved parents' attempts to make polite conversation. Lady Mirabell had not been interested, just as she had not been interested in the many suitors whom had frequented their country home for the past few weeks since her coming out event.

  She simply could not stomach the wiles, the free spirit it would take to make herself attractive, or the marriable state to these men. She was not the young woman she used to be, and she could not be certain she would ever get back to her.