The Duke’s voice was implacable. He sounded, Juliana thought, infinitely dangerous. That he should sound so when protecting her amazed her. When Lady Prudence had begun to speak, she had flinched back. Now, she drew herself up and spoke calmly.
“Lady Prudence, do not blame me for your own failings. I have never attempted to force myself upon anyone – unlike you. We must each live with the situation we find ourselves in. I wish you well of your marriage.”
Lord Fondleton had approached along the terrace as she spoke. He took Lady Prudence’s arm, and pulled her away.
“Come my dear, let us seek out other company, for I find present company unpleasant.”
They both turned, and walked away, looking stiff and pompous. Juliana watched them, and her whole world shifted – three days before, both of those people had held her terrified, now, she saw them as ridiculous, petty, and self-important, without any real power to affect her. A small laugh escaped her, and she spun to bury her face against the Duke’s – Garrett’s, she must get used to thinking of him as Garrett! – shoulder to stifle the sound.
Once she regained her composure, he tilted her face up, raising an eyebrow in enquiry.
“I finally saw them for how petty, ridiculous and small minded they are. Thank you, thank you, for giving me the courage to choose to ignore the gossip from now on!”
His face broke into a delighted smile.
“My pleasure, my Lady.”
He bent his head and kissed her, softly, slowly, a kiss full of promise and care. She allowed herself to melt against him, and let the world dissolve away for a blissful moment of pure joy.
~~~~~
A little more than two weeks later, Garrett and Juliana were walking in the gardens at Hardcastle House, the sun warming them and the scent of flowers everywhere. The banns had already been called twice, and they would, in a matter of a few short weeks, be wed.
Garrett watched her as she bent to smell a rose, the sun glinting off her golden hair. She was perfect. He loved her, more than he had ever imagined loving anyone. Still, she seemed hesitant sometimes, as if some shadow still hung over her, from the past. She turned to him, a rose petal in her fingers.
“Do you know, there are many different roses, and the scent of each is subtly different. So many scents. One day, I hope to have the equipment to distil such scents, to make cologne to keep the scent, long after the roses are gone.”
“Then, once we are wed, I will buy you that equipment – if you will give me instructions, for I confess that, without help, I would have not the slightest idea what to purchase.”
She laughed – a wonderful sound, full of warmth and happiness.
“Are you sure? Such things are expensive…”
“I’m sure. You’ll have to get used to the idea that we can afford whatever you want.”
Suddenly she turned away, her brightness dimming. He reached out and took her hand, gently drawing her to him. her eyes met his, and doubt of some kind filled them.
“Juliana, what is it? Why did you look away?”
She hesitated, and he watched emotions flit across her face. Finally, she glanced down, took a deep breath, then raised her head to meet his eyes.
“Because you reminded me how much you are giving me. And I still do not truly understand why. Still, to me, the only logical reason for you to marry me, and to be so generous in everything, is that you see it as required by honour. For I am still me – the same woman who was mocked for her clumsiness, who was mocked for having garish yellow hair like old straw. What can a man like you see in a woman like me?”
He lifted her hand, and kissed her fingers, one by one, his eyes never leaving hers. The confusion in them increased.
“What can I see? I see a woman who is beautiful, who is elegant and graceful, and who is so because she chooses to be. But it would not matter if you were actually clumsy – which you are not – for you are beautiful as a person. You have no greed, no spitefulness, no nastiness of any kind in you. Juliana, I want to marry you because I love you, and for no other reason. It took that moment when I saw you trapped in Fondleton’s carriage for me to realise the depths of my feelings for you – and when I did, my path was simple. I love you, there is nothing more complicated to it.”
“You… love me?”
“Yes. I think that I began to love you that first picnic, when we spoke in the woods. And now I cannot imagine feeling any other way.”
Her eyes glittered with tears, and she took a huge breath.
“Then I will say this whilst I am brave enough, whilst your words give me strength. I love you. I did not understand it at first, but every time I saw you, the feeling was stronger. When you kissed me in the library at Hallingbrook Grange, I knew it, but I denied it to myself. I cannot deny it to either of us now. I love you.”
He swept her into his arms, and spun her around with an exultant shout. She clung to him, laughing, until they slowed, and he lowered his mouth to hers. This time, the kiss was different, this time, they each knew the other’s heart. This time, she actually believed his words, he thought.
~~~~~
Juliana was dizzy, from spinning, from his kiss, and from his words, and the truth she had finally recognised in them, most of all. To be loved by such a man! It was beyond her wildest dreams, it seemed impossible, and yet it was true.
Now that she knew his feelings, now that she could trust that it was not simply a calculated act of honour, she could give herself to her marriage with wholehearted joy, could allow herself to truly love and not fear the pain of it not being reciprocated. The world was a wonderful place!
Finally, they drew apart, both smiling broadly, then, hand in hand, they walked back through the gardens, both filled with impatience, wanting their wedding day to arrive faster.
Epilogue
A hushed silence filled the church in Upper Nettlefold, and Garrett, watching the drifting dust particles in the air turned to gold and a rainbow of colours where the sun streamed through the stained-glass windows, felt suspended in the moment. Around him, well wishers waited to see him wed, and a profusion of flowers decorated the church, every scent reminding him of a moment he had spent with Juliana.
When she stepped through the door, he ceased to notice anything else. Her gown was palest green, matching the colour that her eyes seemed in dappled shade, embroidered with a cascade of flowers picked out in fine gold thread, enhanced with tiny gems that sparked fire in the light. She was more beautiful than he had ever seen her. Her eyes met his, and their shared happiness wrapped around him. The ceremony passed in a blur, until it was done, and they stepped out into the full light of the morning sun. He looked around, at the town, at the gathered people, at his family and friends, and it seemed that everything had changed, yet nothing had.
Towards the back of the crowd that surrounded them, Lady Prudence stood, beside her betrothed. For a moment, her face crumpled, then she drew herself up, took Fondleton’s arm and turned away. He pitied her, for she had just watched her most cherished dream crumble to dust before her eyes. In that moment, he actually wished her well. He was too happy himself to wish misery on others.
~~~~~
The wedding breakfast at Kilmerstan Castle was wonderful, and exhausting. Juliana wondered if she would ever manage to keep all of the names and faces straight in her head. She was proud of herself – she had not stumbled once, not even in that moment when she had stepped into the church and met Garrett’s eyes. Quite how she had kept walking, she was not sure, for she remembered nothing of it, bar happiness.
Now, as the day wound towards evening, the guests had settled to eat and drink, to talk, and occasionally dance, when they could raise the energy in the summer heat. Juliana desperately wanted to escape the press of people, escape the need to talk, and be talked to. Even with Garrett at her side, she still found her greatest wish was to hide. She was sure that he knew it, for his hand rested on her arm, or the small of her back as they circulated, always there, always re
assuring.
As the sun dropped towards the horizon, presaging the long summer dusk, they stood at the edge of the formal gardens, where guests strolled amongst the flowers. Juliana brushed a tendril of escaped hair from her face, feeling the pins loosening as she did so.
“Shall we sneak away from our guests for a while, my darling, and walk down to the stream and the lake?”
His words were whispered against her ear, the soft breeze of his breath a caress. She turned to answer and his lips met hers, in the briefest of kisses.
“Yes, please. I do not think that I can stand being congratulated even one more time.”
So they slipped away, through the roses and massed camellias, drowning in the scent of summer beauty, until they reached the trees by the tiny stream. Peaceful silence surrounded them, broken only by the movement of ducks on the lake. Juliana leant back against the trunk of a tree, and sighed, allowing her happiness to fill her again.
Garrett went to her, and drew her into his arms, into a kiss full of love and longing. He slid his hands up over her shoulders, to tangle in her hair, slowly pulling out the pins as he kissed her. After a moment, she realised what he was doing, and drew back a little.
“What are you doing? We do have to go back to the guests eventually, and I really can’t do so with my hair down all over the place!”
He laughed softly, continuing to pull out the pins, running his hands through the heavy silken softness of her hair.
“But I have desired to do this, to kiss you and run my hands through your hair, since that first day I saw you in the beam of sunlight in the woods. I cannot resist.”
“But what will everyone think?”
He laughed softly again, and Juliana felt the rumble of it in her bones, a delicious resonance that made her warm all over.
“They will think nothing – for, as we have proven before, I have a talent for dressing a Lady’s hair.”
She joined him in laughter, for a moment, before his lips returned to hers, by way of a trail of tiny kisses from her forehead down her cheek, and everything else ceased to matter.
The End
About the Author
Arietta Richmond has been a compulsive reader and writer all her life. Whilst her reading has covered an enormous range of topics, history has always fascinated her, and historical novels have been amongst her favourite reading.
She has written a wide range of work, from business articles and other non-fiction works (published under a pen name) but fiction has always been a major part of her life. Now, her Regency Historical Romance books are finally being released. The Derbyshire Set is comprised of 10 novels (7 released so far). The ‘His Majesty’s Hounds’ series is comprised of 16 novels, with the thirteenth having just been released.
She also has a standalone longer novel shortly to be released, and two other series of novels in development.
She lives in Australia, and when not reading or writing, likes to travel, and to see in person the places where history happened.
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Here is your preview of
Betting on a Lady’s Heart
His Majesty’s Hounds – Book 14
Sweet and Clean Regency Romance
Arietta Richmond
Chapter One
Gervaise Belmont, Viscount Woodridge, was a man who had once had it all, then almost lost it. And he was at risk of losing it all again.
He was young still, only twenty-four, and handsome, his jaw strong and square, his hair dark, with reddish glints amongst its strands. His eyes were the green of spring leaves in the sun, and his smile was warm and brought a dimple to both cheeks. Women loved him, and indeed, he enjoyed them likewise, although he had yet to find one he thought he could care for enough to marry. His father had been lucky enough to find love in two marriages, and with that example before him, he was loath to consider accepting less.
But there was one thing that drew Gervaise more than women. The races. Horses, frantic as they jockeyed for position, the men atop their backs looking as though they would fall underneath their steed at any moment, the large hooves breaking them into pieces.
Gervaise’s family had never lacked for money, unlike many titled families, but it had a way of finding its way out of his pocket and into the possession of others.
He gambled as easily as most men breathed. Cards, dice, any number of other passions, but the horses, that was the largest offender. He had, after his unpleasant adventures of the previous year, sworn off serious gambling – but that was a hard promise to keep.
The lure of the excitement was strong, and he struggled. Today, he had promised himself that he would enjoy the races, and only bet a tiny amount, just to reduce the craving for gambling.
He made his way to the bookmaker and smiled.
“Back again my Lord?” the man asked.
“Indeed. Although I’ll not be wagering large amounts today.”
The old man looked at him, his expression cynical, and laughed. He had wiry white hair and had to squint when he read anything, which had left him with an array of wrinkles around his eyes.
“Which race?” he asked.
Gervaise told him, the bookmaker quoted the odds, and Gervaise chose which horse to bet on, then passed a purse full of coins to the man.
The bookmaker took the bag and whistled.
“This would feed my family for years to come,” he remarked.
Gervaise hesitated a moment, his thoughts going back to the poor woodcutters who had saved his life a year past. They would have said the same.
It was hard to reconcile the way that money existed in his life, with the way it existed in the lives of the common people.
He shrugged the thoughts aside, and focussed on his purpose. He needed the thrill of the bet, of watching the race, to hold him through the next weeks and months of not gambling.
“Perhaps you should occasionally have a bet yourself – one win could change your life,” Gervaise said, smiling as he did so. The bookmaker laughed, and wrote up a slip for Gervaise to take with him.
“Not likely, my Lord, for one loss could send us to the poorhouse. I’m a father with children to feed, after all, so I’ll not be risking it – I’ll leave that to the likes of you, who can afford the losses,” the man nodded to Gervaise.
The man’s words brought Gervaise’s own father to mind, and he sighed as he turned away.
Gervaise’s father was Nicholas Belmont, the Earl of Amberhithe, a man who had been remarkably patient with his son, at a time when they both grieved the death of Gervaise’s mother.
During that terrible few years Gervaise had developed his love of gambling – it had seemed a harmless distraction from his grief, but it was a distraction that had cost him all of his funds, and nearly his life.
A wise investment after one big win had saved his funds, but had come almost too late for his life. He still walked with a slight limp today, as a result of his foolishness. He never wanted to be in such a desperate situation again.
Gervaise’s mind was keen and sharp, though the intricacies of good finance had been lost on him for most of his life.
He had, in recent times, been trying to remedy that, but the lure of gambling still drew him, even though he knew, now, that it would never be a wise activity, financially. Hence the visit to the racetrack today.
The place was called Green Hill, and indeed the backdrop of the track, the side opposite t
he stands, was a green hill, which rose upwards at a sharp angle before levelling out. The track was a rather wondrous place, where the human dregs of London mixed with the Lords that made up high society.
Men of high standing wore fine top hats which might cost many times more than the whole outfit of the man who stood next to them at the fence, cheering their respective horses on.
Gervaise was comfortable amongst the mixed crowd having always got on well with those of lesser standing, coming from a family who appreciated their servants and farmers well. His experience of a year past had increased his appreciation for the innate humanity of people of all stations in life, for it had been a family of poor woodcutters who had saved his life.
It was his charm and his wit which drew people to him, man or woman, and he was glad of it, never having been a man for a solitary existence.
It began to rain as he stood at the edge of the stands, bracing himself against the fence. He had put a considerable part of the funds he’d brought on one horse, a grey beast that stood out among the black and bay colors of the other horses. The race began, the stallions throwing up mud as they ran.
Around Gervaise the crowd was deafening, as men and women alike supported their favoured horses loudly. The familiar excitement coursed through him, the sense of everything hanging on the thin thread of chance, and he felt his heart beat faster, the world around him suddenly seeming cast in sharp relief, every detail precise and vibrant.
The grey horse won, by a large margin, much to Gervaise's delight. His considerable winnings would certainly ensure that he did not need to dip into the funds he had invested, and he would be able to set a few affairs in order, without disappointing his father by depleting those investments. He hurried to collect his winnings.
The Duke and the Spinster: Clean Regency Romance (The Nettlefold Chronicles Book 1) Page 13
