A Duke’s Relentless Courting: A Clean & Sweet Regency Historical Romance Novel

by Leah Conolly

  There is so much I would like to say, but I will leave everything until we see each other in person.

  "She walks in moonlight,

  in another world,

  Awash in shimmering glow,

  enchantments untold . . ."

  Sincerely,

  Lord Christopher Beaumont

  ***

  "Lydia, there is a letter for you." Her father popped his head into the library where she and Eleanor were sitting. She exchanged a glance with her sister and then stood to receive it from her father's outstretched hand.

  She turned it over and saw Lord Beaumont's seal on the outside.

  "Might it be a proposal from Lord Brussels?" her father asked expectantly.

  "I think not, Father. It is in Lord Beaumont's hand," she said.

  "Ah, Lord Beaumont. The one who has ten thousand pounds a year? Fine fellow," he said approvingly.

  "Yes, Father," Lydia replied, heat rising in her cheeks.

  He went back down the hall to his study, and she took the letter back to her seat.

  Eleanor watched her expectantly as Lydia opened the seal and began to read. She was touched by his verse, and she wondered if he had written it himself as there was no annotation. She folded the letter and let it lay in her lap.

  "Well?" Eleanor asked excitedly. "What did he say?"

  Lydia smiled. "He says he will call and bring another book for us.

  Eleanor let her mouth hang open in a very unladylike fashion. "Nothing else?"

  Lydia laughed. "Nothing I wish to disclose." She stood and went to the window. "It is a lovely day outside. Shall we have tea in the garden this afternoon?"

  Eleanor rolled her eyes. "Stop changing the subject. Do you like him?"

  Lydia looked away, staring out of the window at the sunshine cascading over the flowers. "I admit that he has shown himself to be more generous and caring than I originally thought. But I am still not sure about him. I am taking the time to get to know his true character." She smiled at her sister's hopeful face. "But, yes, so far as I can see, I would say that I like him very much."

  "I knew it!" Eleanor exclaimed. "Well, I wish you both every happiness."

  "Come now, Eleanor. It is far too early for congratulations. I barely know the man."

  "I can see he likes you, and now you have admitted to liking him. What is there to stand in your way?"

  Lady Diana, for one, Lydia thought to herself. But she did not want to share that story with Eleanor. She wanted to enjoy Eleanor’s pleasure and leave it at that for the time being.

  A knock sounded at the door, and one of the maids announced that Lord Brussels was there to see Lydia. She stood and greeted him, inviting him to take a stroll in the garden.

  "You look flushed, my dear. I hope you are feeling well?" Lord Brussels asked.

  "I am quite well, thank you," Lydia answered, although she felt she might be sick with anxiety. She had never had to tell a suitor that she wished to end their courtship. She was not sure how Lord Brussels would react.

  They strolled about the garden in silence for a moment, until she motioned towards a small marble bench near the walkway. She sat down first, and he followed, smiling into the warm sunshine.

  "It seems we are in for a beautiful summer," he said.

  "Yes, I agree," she replied. She turned to him, putting on her most contrite expression. "Lord Brussels, I must ask your pardon, but I am afraid I will have to put an end to our courtship. I hope you understand, but I do not think I am quite suited to fulfill your needs in a wife. It would be unfair of me to continue our understanding. . ."

  He smiled, which caught her off guard. "My dear, I am so glad you said that, for I had come to speak about the same thing. Please understand that I have enjoyed our time together, but I think I am too old for you. You deserve someone young and interesting. I am not a proud man and can admit that I am not a very interesting person."

  Lydia tried to argue. He really was a sweet man, but she could not deny her growing feelings for Lord Beaumont. But Lord Brussels held up his hand. "No, please. I am not saying that I am angry. By no means. You have helped me overcome a challenging time in my life. When I lost my Emeline, I thought I would never love again. You have helped me remember what it is to be in love, and, although it has not worked out for us, I believe I will find a suitable person again."

  Lydia smiled. "I am glad to hear it, Lord Brussels. Thank you for being so understanding."

  "Thank you, my lady. I will take my leave now. Please give my greetings to your father."

  "I will," she said. She walked him out and waved goodbye from the doorstep. She sincerely hoped he found a woman worthy of him.

  "Was that Lord Brussels I saw leaving? Why did you not invite him to stay for dinner?" her father asked.

  "We have ended our courtship, Father," Lydia said, still waving to Lord Brussels as he left. She turned to see that all the color had drained from her father's face.

  "Why, my dear? Has he been unkind to you?"

  "Not in the least, Father. We both found that we were not well-matched. It was a mutual agreement," she said, walking back into the house. Her father followed close on her heels like a mother hen chasing after her chicks.

  "I have had a letter from Lord Beaumont," Lydia said as if this would explain everything. Her father followed after her, wringing his hands all the while.

  "I thought you didn't like him," he said. They sat down in the library with Eleanor.

  "I have gotten to know him better, and I do like him. He has asked to call on us, and we have exchanged letters."

  "But has he offered marriage, my dear?" her father asked.

  Eleanor and Lydia exchanged glances again.

  "Not yet, Father, but I feel certain that he will, given time," Lydia said, almost pleading with her father to understand.

  "We do not have the luxury of time, Lydia. You know our situation. If you do not marry soon, it will be the ruin of us all!" he said, growing angry.

  Lydia could tell that Eleanor was growing angry, as well. "If nothing comes of it, Father, I will find someone else. There were several gentlemen at the ball who showed interest. We are not ruined yet," she said, trying to defuse the situation.

  "Please do, my dear. For we all know that Eleanor shall never marry. You are our only hope," he said as he walked out of the room.

  Lydia's heart broke at the look on her sister's face. She screwed up her face and seemed about to cry. Lydia sat next to her, patting her hand.

  "He did not mean it," she said, trying to comfort her.

  Eleanor shook her head. "Yes, he did! We would have never been in this mess if he had paid attention to the estate the way he should! I hate him!"

  Lydia was shocked by the vehemence of her sister's statement. “I know you don't mean that either."

  "I do! If he had been a good steward of the estate, we would not be in this position, and he would not be forcing you into marriage. It's so unfair, Lydia! Why are you not angry with him?"

  "I was, at first, but you two matter more to me than my own desires," Lydia replied. "There is no point in staying angry with situations that we cannot change. The past is the past. We must look to the future now."

  Chapter 18

  "You're doing it again."

  Lydia looked up to see Eleanor staring at her.

  She straightened from her task. She had just come into the library carrying a stack of letters, mostly for their father. “Doing what?"

  "Smiling. You have been in a constant state of smiling of late. Is Lord Beaumont to blame?" she asked.

  Lydia came over to her sister and sat down, unable to wipe the smile off her face. "He might be."

  "I am glad. You deserve to marry the man you want, not the one Father wants," Eleanor said, her tone still dripping with bitterness.

  "Father and I have made our peace, Eleanor. He is not a monster. He said that if I choose Lord Beaumont, he will be pleased to give his consent."

  "But if you
were to choose a penniless tailor, he would withhold his consent. It is all about money. Would you not fight for love if it came to it?" Eleanor asked.

  "Love is not a fairy-tale, Elle, and life seldom turns out the way we plan. We must make the best of the life we are given," Lydia said. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have a letter to read." She stood and held the letter above her sister's head, waving it this way and that to tease her.

  "Won't you read it here? I want to know what he says," Eleanor asked, whining slightly.

  "I will read it to you later if there is anything in it that might interest you."

  "It all interests me," Eleanor pleaded. "You forget that I have to live vicariously through you."

  Lydia laughed. "Later," she insisted. She went out into the garden and broke the seal on Lord Beaumont's now-familiar letters. They had exchanged messages during the last few days, and she was coming to understand him better already. She loved how he talked about his interest in ancient Greek philosophy. His passion was so endearing.

  My dearest Lydia,

  How I wish we could be together every moment of every day. It is strange to think that at first, we were enemies. Well, perhaps “enemies” is too strong a word.

  As I have come to know you, I find that I want to tell you everything, just to hear what you will say next. I have never met anyone who can surprise me as you do.

  Lydia held the letter to her chest and smiled. She never knew that falling in love would be like this. She felt her heart skip a beat, just by reading his words.

  Would you do me the honor of joining me for a stroll this evening? I would like to continue our discussion from your last letter in person. Please send a note if you are agreeable, and I will meet you in the park.

  Yours,

  Lord Christopher Beaumont

  Lydia could not wait to meet him later that afternoon. She went immediately into the house and sent a note to Lord Beaumont. She gave it to their stable boy and told him to deliver it immediately.

  She waited with anticipation for their appointed meeting time, the hours ticking away slowly. When it was finally time for her and her maid to make their way to the park, she set off with a spring in her step.

  He was waiting underneath the shade of an oak tree when they arrived, smiling as he held the reins of his horse. He looked more like a giddy young boy than a man, but Lydia did not mind. She liked this softer side of him, a side that she assumed very few people got to see.

  "Hello, Lady Lydia. Your sister is not accompanying you today?" he asked as she and her maid approached.

  "Not today. I thought it might be nice to talk privately," she replied, feeling the heat rise first in her neck and then up into her cheeks.

  He smiled. "I would like that very much." He clasped his hands behind his back as they began to walk around the small pond.

  "First," he said, bringing out a small volume, "I found this in our library and thought you might enjoy it." He held it out for her, and she accepted it.

  "Oh, thank you!" she said.

  "Have you read it? I can find another if you have. Or, rather, you should come to the house and choose one for yourself. As many as you would like. Mother is not much of a reader, and it does me good to see someone reading them," he suggested.

  "No, I have not read this one, but I would very much like to explore your library. Perhaps when Eleanor and I have finished this one, we could plan a visit?" she asked.

  "Of course. But may I request that you read this volume before your sister?" he asked. It was his turn to blush, and she assumed that he had tucked another love poem between its pages.

  "Yes, I assure you that I will read it first," she said, smiling.

  They walked onto the lawns, her maid trailing a few feet behind. Lydia listened to him talk about the premise of his manuscript, realizing his brilliance even more. She liked being with him in this setting, much more so than at a ball. He seemed more at ease and sweeter than she had known him to be in the past. He appeared to be a changed man and was not at all irritable or rude.

  "May I ask, are you planning on attending the ball at the Hawthornes’ castle on Friday evening?" he asked.

  “I had not planned on going, even though we did receive an invitation," she said.

  "Oh, well, I was hoping you might accompany me. But if you are already engaged. . ."

  "No, I'm not engaged. I hate to leave Eleanor behind, and she has no one to escort her," Lydia explained.

  "I would be happy to escort the two of you if your father does not object." Christopher offered.

  Lydia's heart swelled. "That would be lovely. I'm sure she would be most happy to accept your kind offer."

  "Good," he beamed down at her and looked as if he wanted to say more. He glanced back at her maid and thought better of it. "Shall we go and tell her the plan?"

  "Yes, let's," she agreed. He walked with them back to the house, leading his horse behind him.

  When they arrived, he asked Eleanor if she would like to go to the ball with them. Lydia thought Eleanor might actually jump up from her wheelchair, she was so excited.

  "Oh, Lord Beaumont! You don't know how much that would mean to me!" Eleanor gushed.

  "It's my pleasure." He smiled. "Well then, it is settled. I will leave you now but will be back on Friday at seven for the drive out to Hawthorne Castle," Lord Beaumont replied.

  Lydia walked him to the door. "Are you sure you won't stay for dinner?" she asked.

  "No, thank you. Unfortunately, I already have an engagement. Another time I would love to," he said.

  Lydia curtsied. "It would be a pleasure to have you."

  "Then I will come as quickly as I am allowed," he said with a bow. She waved as he got on his horse and rode down the road.

  "What a fine figure of a man," she said under her breath.

  ***

  Christopher arrived home later that afternoon and was welcomed by his mother in the parlor. She was entertaining Lady Diana again. He was in a better mood than usual and decided to step into the parlor to get a cup of tea and a biscuit before going to his study.

  "Ah, Christopher. Look who has come to call!" his mother gushed. "Isn't it fortuitous?"

  "Why, especially? Lady Diana seems to be here every day around teatime," Christopher said.

  "We were just talking about the ball. We have both been in suspense as to who you will be escorting to Hawthorne Castle?" his mother asked. She had never been good at being discrete. No doubt, she was leading him to ask Lady Diana, but he had a little surprise for the both of them.

  "I'm glad you asked, Mother. I have just come from Lady Baker's home, and she and her sister have agreed to come with me to the Hawthornes’ on Friday. So yes, I agree. It is a most fortuitous day!" he said. He popped a biscuit into his mouth, retrieved his cup of tea from the tray, and walked out of the room.

  He smiled as he imagined his mother's face. She would be glad that he had found someone to escort to the ball, but he imagined Lady Diana’s disappointment with delight.

  "Christopher!"

  He stopped in his tracks and turned to find his mother was not at all happy with him.

  "What is it now, Mother?" he asked, perturbed. He was not in the mood to fight.

  "I am not sure I heard you correctly. You say you are to escort Lady Lydia and her sister to the ball?"

  "Yes, Mother. You heard me perfectly," he replied.

  "But she is wholly unsuitable. You know her family is in ruin."

  "Mother, you have been hounding me for months to find a wife. You have dragged me to every party and social occasion in the hope that I would find a bride. Now I am going to a ball of my own volition, and you say my choice in partner is not suitable?"

  He was growing angrier by the second. She must have seen the blood rising in his cheeks, for she took a conciliatory tone.

  "My boy, all I am saying is that there are several other ladies that would be far more agreeable to. . ."

  "Like Lady Diana, for instance?
" Christopher sneered. "No, Mother. I am not escorting her, and that is the end of it." He turned to stalk away.

  "But Christopher!" his mother called after him.

  "Enough!" he said, slicing the air with his hand as he turned. He spilled his tea, the cup crashing to the floor." I will hear no more of your opinions on my personal life. Leave it be!"