Regency Engagements Box Set

by Charlotte Fitzwilliam

  “You are indeed an honest young man, my lord,” the duchess pointed out. “A trait that is truly admirable and respected in our family.”

  “Thank you for the kind words, Your Grace,” Lord Markham said with a grateful nod.

  “And how do you feel regarding Lord Markham’s honesty, my dear Emmeline?” the duke asked.

  Lady Emmeline stopped chewing for a moment and glanced at her father for a moment. Swallowing her food, she straightened her shoulders and said, “Honesty is a trait I admire as well. Lord Markham informed me of his intentions while we strolled through the gardens. My feelings are the same as Lord Markham’s.”

  “That certainly is wonderful news,” the duke beamed.

  “Of course, with Your Graces’ blessings, I wish to formally court your lovely daughter,” Lord Markham said, with confidence he did not realize he possessed.

  “My lord, you do not need my blessing, or my permission to court my daughter—”

  “I—”

  The duke raised his hand in the air, dismissing the duchess instantly, and the duchess snapped her lips together. “The decision rests solely on my daughter. She is after all the one whom you will be courting.”

  Lord Markham gazed at the duke in slight surprise, as he had not expected such a response from the duke.

  Lord Markham admired the duke for giving Lady Emmeline the freedom to choose who wished to court her, and his respect for the duke increased enormously.

  The duchess, on the other hand, seemed less than impressed by the duke’s words, but she did not utter a peep. The duke had said what he wished to say, and the duchess certainly knew better than to be defiant in any way.

  Or so Lord Markham guessed.

  The rest of the evening transpired with success, and soon the duke invited Lord Markham to join him in the drawing room to discuss the courtship, as well as mutual interests which came to light at the dining table. The duke was delighted to hear of Lord Markham’s interest in law and dueling.

  Lady Emmeline glanced at her father’s empty chair from a moment, and her eyes caught the tapestry which hung against the wall. Her brow furrowed as she glanced at it too long before diverting her eyes away from it. Emmeline always tried to ignore its presence, as she thought it too violent to grace a dining hall. It ruined her appetite should she stare at it too closely, but luckily the meal was over.

  After Lady Emmeline and the duchess retreated to the parlor, the duke and Lord Markham joined them, and Lord Markham wore a smile which could illuminate all of London on the darkest of nights.

  Lord Markham stayed for a short while but bid Lady Emmeline a good night at the door. Emmeline, of course, longed for him the moment he left the estate, but in her heart, she was delighted that her father enjoyed his company.

  Emmeline sat on the chaise, opposite where her mother was seated, enjoying a cup of tea before turning in for the night. The duke sat at the desk in the corner reading through a few documents.

  "It is best we turn in for the evening,” the duchess told Emmeline as she placed her cup on the table in front of her. “It is getting rather late. Would you not agree, William?”

  The duke mumbled incoherently as he was immersed in his reading, and the duchess pursed her lips before setting her gaze upon Lady Emmeline.

  “I hope you rest well tonight, my dear," the duchess said. "Tomorrow we are having tea with a duchess and a baroness. They are each hosting a soiree that I desire an invitation to attend. I want you on your best behavior.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “Our daughter is always on her best behavior, my dear,” the duke said without glancing up from his reading. “We are truly lucky to have such a perfect daughter.”

  “It is best you turn in as well, dear,” the duchess said.

  “Indeed, I have a meeting scheduled in the morning, but I fear it would be rather redundant after this evening,” the duke uttered.

  “What do you mean, Father?” Lady Emmeline asked.

  “A gentleman by the name of Mr. Skeffington wishes to have a conversation with me. I have reason to believe this man also wishes to court you, Emmeline.”

  "No!” Lady Emmeline immediately protested. “Not under any circumstances, Father.”

  “Control yourself, Emmeline,” the duchess said in disapproval.

  “My apologies, Mother, Father. I did not wish to be disrespectful,” Lady Emmeline sighed. “Please, send your regrets to him. I do not welcome his courtship."

  "My dear, I saw you dance twice with the man. You appeared to have a lovely time. Has he said or done something inappropriate?" the duke asked.

  Emmeline stared at the tabletop. She did not wish to malign the man's name. She had no proof that he was evil. It was only a feeling, one gathered from the altercation in the garden and his steely eyes in the park.

  "He has done nothing untoward to me, Father. I do not wish you to think badly of him. However, I have seen him showing a temperament that I do not care for. He is not for me."

  The duke raised an eyebrow toward the duchess as if asking a silent question. She nodded curtly, and he turned back to peruse Lady Emmeline's bowed head. He loved his dainty daughter immensely and was fiercely protective of her. He had never heard her speak ill of anyone. He made a swift decision in her favor.

  "I trust your judgment, Emmeline. I will send a runner with a note declining to meet with Mr. Skeffington. I will make some excuse for not allowing his courtship, perhaps even inform him that you are no longer available for courtship. It may appear rude; however, your happiness is more important." He also would be making inquiries into the man's character. If his daughter had doubts about the man, then so did he. “After this evening, I am certain you found the right man. Lord Markham is delightful. He is an intelligent, well-read man, knowledgeable, and he makes your eyes sparkle in a manner I have not seen before. It is a remarkable and rather heartwarming sight to see you as happy and comfortable with him, my dear.”

  “He does put me at ease, Father. He makes me laugh and I feel happy inside me, all the time. It is something I cannot explain in its entirety,” Lady Emmeline said dreamily and glanced at her mother.

  “It appears you are popular with the eligible men after the ball.”

  “Perhaps, but there is only one man who has my heart,” Lady Emmeline beamed. “All the other men I have met pale in comparison to him."

  The duke and duchess noted the twinkle of happiness in her golden-brown eyes. Of course, she wanted nothing to do with Mr. Skeffington. The sweet girl was in love with Lord Markham.

  "He needs to practice his cotillion," the duchess commented. "It was embarrassing to see him stumble on the dance floor."

  "Oh, Mother, he was simply nervous. He had just come in from the gardens, where Mr. Skeffington had grabbed him by the coat and shoved him." Lady Emmeline placed her hand over her mouth in shock. She had not meant to let the words slip out. She just did not care for criticism of Lord Markham.

  “Of what do you speak, Emmeline?” the duchess gasped.

  "Is that the example of Mr. Skeffington’s temperament you referred to?” the duke asked, glaring at Lady Emmeline.

  “Indeed, Father. I witnessed it firsthand, but I failed to mention it until now.”

  “Did either explain the incident?" the duke angrily inquired. He did not wish Lady Emmeline to be caught in the middle of a disagreement that grew violent.

  "Lord Markham swore it was not as bad as it looked from afar, yet he was visibly shaken. Mr. Skeffington said Lord Markham was jealous of his attention towards me. I felt honored at the time; however, I now believe it was an untruth. It was Mr. Skeffington who showed anger, not Lord Markham. I have also been worried about the lord's safety.

  "I think you should stay out of it,” the duchess proclaimed. “Leave matters to your father. Whatever transpired in the garden was between the men and most likely over. Although, I do agree that a suitor who bears such a temper is not for you.”

  "I do not want you m
ixed up in this, child,” the duke added. “I will make discreet inquiries. You simply stay out of it. Lord Markham wished to focus his attention on you today, and he was rather impressive, was he not?”

  “Indeed, he was. He is lovely,” Lady Emmeline beamed once again, “and I wish to thank you for this evening. For being kind and courteous towards him. He admitted that he was nervous upon arrival, as he had heard many tales of Father’s temper and love of scaring young suitors away.”

  “Wherever could he have heard such tales?” the duke chuckled. “But he is wonderful, I must agree. You made a fine choice, my dear Emmeline. As for the situation with him and Skeffington, allow me to put a stop to it, and you let it go for now," the duke added.

  "I agree with your father. Courtship is a wonderful time in the life of a young lady. It is special. Do not let worry and fretting spoil it. It is time for fun, flowers, and walks in the garden holding hands. Ah, I remember it well. Do you not, my dear?" the duchess asked her husband.

  "I distinctly remember being scared to death that I would offend you by kissing your hand," the duke laughed. "Now that Lord Markham is aware of how you feel about him, inform him that your mother and I approve, although it is not in any way required. It will go a long way in calming his nerves. This is a special time in his life as well.”

  Lady Emmeline peered at her mother and father who exchanged admiring glances at one another, and she was pleasantly surprised by the love which radiated from them, even though they were across the room from one another. Lady Emmeline sincerely hoped to someday have that with Lord Markham.

  A smile formed on her lips as she knew Lord Markham would be with her in her dreams, as he was in her heart.

  9

  Mr. Skeffington stood in the parlor of his townhouse and read the note the runner had brought several times. Each reading raised his temper a notch or two. When he had received word from the Duke of Bedford that he would not allow him to court Lady Emmeline as she had already chosen a suitable gentleman to court her, Mr. Skeffington could most certainly not believe it. He had reread the note over and over. It had not been his eyes deceiving him. The words were written on the note, in the duke’s perfect penmanship. The duke must believe a baron to be beneath her, and it was not to be tolerated. The duke and his haughty daughter would both regret this decision.

  Perhaps it was the doing of Lord Markham, but Mr. Skeffington soon dismissed that thought. Lord Markham was not in any way able to change the mind of the duke. The marquess was too much of a blubbering cowardly fool to do something as devious as that. There had to be some way he could find out what made the duke reconsider. Mr. Skeffington had been charming the entire evening at the ball, more so than usual in fact. He had taken extra care to ensure that he swept Lady Emmeline off her feet, and he had been under the distinct impression that he had succeeded, but upon his recollection of the manner in which she distanced herself from him in Hyde Park, something had gone amiss. Lady Emmeline seemed careful of his person, on-guard perhaps.

  Had Emmeline heard a tale of him which made her act this way, or was it the influence of something, or someone else, perhaps? Perhaps the Duke of Bedford chose a husband for her and the arrangement was made. Mr. Skeffington knew the duke for a long while, and it was clear that he had his daughter’s feelings in mind when choosing a suitor for her. The choice had most certainly been Lady Emmeline’s, no doubt. Mr. Skeffington recalled Emmeline’s laughter at the ball as she danced and conversed with Lord Markham, and he came to the conclusion that it could only be Lord Markham who was now courting her.

  Clearly, his efforts to charm the young lady was not enough to create a lasting impression on her, and he scolded himself under his breath. There was also no possible manner in which to redeem himself, as his visit with the duke was denied.

  Much to his dismay and agitation, Mr. Skeffington realized there was no manner in which to reach Lady Emmeline, for she was never alone, and her father would certainly have him removed from their estate with the wink of an eye. Lady Emmeline was also constantly accompanied by her lady’s maid, or her silly new friend, Bethany. Destroying the Duke of Bedford or even Lord Markham was out of the question, as either would earn him a life in prison. All his money was gone, wagered on horses. He was running out of lovers willing to give him a token or two. The gullible widows declared his temper to be too easily provoked.

  There was only one way out, and Mr. Skeffington dreaded even the thought of walking along that road.

  A knock on the door whirled him around in disgust, and he glared at his coachman.

  “What is it, Melville?” he barked.

  “Your father, Lord Featherstone is here to see you, sir.”

  “Yes, yes,” Mr. Skeffington nodded. “Escort him inside.”

  “I know this townhouse well enough. Your coachman does not need to show me around,” Lord Featherstone muttered as he entered the parlor.

  Lord Featherstone was a frail old man, but his words were still as sharp as a new blade. Despite his age, his mind was still in perfect health, and his tall stature and broad shoulders made him appear much younger than he was.

  Lord Featherstone had remarried after his wife had passed away, to a much younger woman, hence why he was in such an aged state, but it certainly did not suppress him to be the father to a son he had always longed for. Although, Lord Featherstone would have preferred his only son not to have been such a leech.

  “What is of such imperative importance that you insisted on having me travel all the way, Charles?” Lord Featherstone grumbled.

  “I must speak with you, Father,” Mr. Skeffington said curtly.

  “The only time you wish to speak with me if when you require something of me, and usually it is money,” Lord Featherstone answered, leaning on his cane.

  “Perhaps, but this time it is of great urgency,” Mr. Skeffington replied.

  “Bah, it is always of great urgency. The previous time we spoke, I gave you a substantial amount. What happened to it?”

  “I settled old debts,” he answered.

  “I am inclined to not believe you, Charles. You cannot tell me that you used all the money to settle your debts. Surely one man cannot accumulate so much debt!” Lord Featherstone exclaimed.

  “Father—”

  “Did you gamble away all the money I gave you?”

  “If you would merely listen—”

  “Did you?” Lord Featherstone bellowed, his voice cracking.

  “Father, I can explain—”

  “I will not ask you again, Charles!”

  Mr. Skeffington’s shoulders slumped, and he nodded.

  “Are you daft, boy? I gave you that money not to gamble it out again,” Lord Featherstone sighed.

  “I was on a winning streak, Father. It was the last hand—”

  “There is no such thing as a winning streak. Everyone loses in gambling, even those who do not play,” Lord Featherstone stated.

  “Father, if you could possibly allow me to borrow—”

  “No, no more loans, no more borrowing,” Lord Featherstone announced. “I have had quite enough, and I will lose no more.”

  “I will lose the townhouse,” Mr. Skeffington called out as his father turned towards the door.

  “So be it. You are not deserving of it anyway,” Lord Featherstone muttered.

  Mr. Skeffington’s fists balled at his side and his jaw clenched tightly. He did not utter a single word in return; he merely listened to his father’s footsteps, along with the occasional thump of the cane on the wooden floor and the slam of the front door. Anger rose up inside him, as well as panic and desperation, as now he had no way out.

  Not even his father would aid him by paying his debts any longer. Mr. Skeffington was now on his own. Lady Emmeline's dowry would have set him up for life, but Mr. Skeffington feared the silly girl was besotted by the fancy young lord. Without even realizing it, Lady Emmeline had ruined him.

  Mr. Skeffington required a plan, a plan to survive, bu
t he was not certain what. He thought of Lady Emmeline, how she would have been the perfect woman to rescue him from the sea of debt he had found himself in, but now there was no possible manner to do so.

  Suddenly, as he gazed out the window at two young women strolled passed, his eyes widened, and a thought occurred to him.

  A brilliant thought for that matter.

  Miss Wilkes.

  Lady Emmeline’s young friend whom she had shared a stroll within Hyde Park, the one whom he had danced with once at another ball, but dismissed as she was not nearly as spectacular as Emmeline. Miss Wilkes surely did not possess a dowry which would be of value to him, but her father owned land which was highly desirable. Mr. Skeffington had overheard her father discuss it with an acquaintance. Miss Wilkes inherits the land as soon as she marries, which would most certainly work in Mr. Skeffington’s favor.

  It would be quite easy to charm the young woman into marriage, as she was young and naive, and although the marriage would not get him money, he would gain land which could be sold, while causing heartache to the poor, foolish young Miss Wilkes. It would give him much pleasure to see Lady Emmeline feel guilty over her friend's ruination.

  The Duke of Bedford did not like what he was hearing at all. All the gentlemen at Almacks, with the exception of himself, seemed to know of Mr. Skeffington's escapades, and the tales the duke was hearing caused an unsettling turn in his gut. In a private room, filled with brocaded chairs, dark wood, and cigar smoke, the duke listened to his friends’ description of Mr. Skeffington.

  "The young man is a cad," Lord Hilton confided. "He makes bets he cannot cover. He is in debt to everyone it seems. Rumor has it his own father has disowned him.”

  “Rumors, or lies?” the duke asked.

  “I overheard Lord Featherstone speak to one of his acquaintances this morning,” Lord Fennell stated.