The Remarkable Myth of a Nameless Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Linfield, Emma

  A friend is only an enemy in disguise, his father had told him.

  He took a moment to swallow a mouthful of water, quickly changed his shirt in his bedroom, and went to his meeting. This was the last footman he was going to hire, and the agency had sent this Heath Moore over on high recommendations.

  Edward entered the study; the man stood and bowed. That was a positive note in Edward’s book. The second was his posture. This man had the body for a footman, tall, and strapping.

  “Thank you for seeing me, My Lord,” Mr. Moore’s rolling, lax Midlands accent confirmed what had been in his recommendation—that he had lived and worked in Staffordshire.

  “Not a problem, Mr. Moore,” Edward gestured for him to sit down. “Normally, any other lord would have used their subordinates to interview you, but I prefer to have a personal hand in these matters, so humor me.”

  Edward sat back and crossed a leg over his left knee. “As your past occupation was much like this one, I assume you are proficient in all the activities of your post? Shadowing the butler, dining room duties, trimming lamps, attending to the fires?”

  “I am,” Mr. Moore replied. “I have also been trained in horse care and driving if you need a carriage driver.”

  The Earl’s eyes danced up. “That is…unusual.”

  “I concur. My previous master, the Viscount Masseur, was very thorough and particular,” Mr. Moore replied. “I was also trained in assisting his hunts, skinning and tanning his kills, managing his vast collection of weapons and even disposing of the trash. But I was not allowed to touch his clothing. As I said, he was very particular.”

  Edward leaned forward, “Gastrell is in charge of my suits, but I am a sort of aficionado of weapons, pistols and swords myself, and have not found anyone to help me in that avenue. The collection was handed down from my great-grandfather.”

  “I would be happy to assist you,” Mr. Moore spoke with an air of surety.

  As the conversation went, Edward was growing to like this young man. He was very respectful and proved himself to be smart in household duties. An hour later, Edward hired him without further questions.

  “I think you will be a brilliant addition to my household.” Both men rose and shook hands. “I will have you situated immediately on the morrow and have Gastrell look to your livery. I find the powdering of hair unneeded and frankly repulsive, so you will not be required to do so.”

  “Thank you, My Lord.”

  “Your salary will be twelve guineas per year and your livery of three guineas from the Old Bond Street will be taken care of,” Edward said. “I am glad that you are tall and agile, those attributes are very needed in a footman.”

  “Those thanks are my father’s, My Lord,” Mr. Moore said. “But I will accept them on his behalf.”

  “Now, our bond: Do you swear fidelity to my family and will you uphold all the needs of the Dawson’s, primarily our safety, security, and comfort?”

  “I do swear, My Lord.”

  “Wonderful. Let me take you to Gastrell who will take your measurements. Tomorrow, he will introduce you to the rest of the staff.”

  Stepping out, Edward nearly collided with a thin figure and got a nose-full of dark hair in the process. His sister, Penelope tottered with the armful of books she was holding and barely regained her footing after Mr. Moore had caught her while Edward had stumbled too.

  “Oh, dear me,” she gasped while jostling the books. “My apologies, Eddie.”

  The lord muttered a curse under his breath, “Penelope! How many times do I have to tell you to not carry so many books at one time? You could have injured yourself if Mr. Moore had not caught you…and I told you not to call me that in company,” he muttered under his breath.

  Meek honey-gold eyes peeked around the book covers and a small smile curved her bow-lips. “I’m sorry, Edward.”

  He sighed, “Mr. Moore, may I introduce my sister, Lady Penelope Dawson. Penelope, Mr. Moore is going to be our new footman.”

  She juggled the books again and an oval face and almond-shaped eyes peeked out. “Delighted to meet you, Mr. Moore.”

  “Thank you, My Lady…do you need help?” Mr. Moore asked.

  “Er…I don’t think—”

  “She will take it,” Edward overrode her. “Before she trips and breaks her neck. Mr. Moore, please.”

  Penelope huffed and then handed over the books. Now fully revealed, Lady Penelope Dawson was a slender woman with a rather shapely figure. Her thick, dark hair was combed into an unstylish bun at the nape of her neck and a few stubborn tendrils were fluttering around her face.

  “Thank you, Mr. Moore,” she smiled softly. “I finished reading them all and was carrying them to the library. Please follow me.”

  “Follow us,” Edward interrupted. He might be liberal but was not going to allow his baby sister to be alone with a relatively unknown man. He followed them to the library where Penelope directed him to set them down.

  “Here you go, My Lady,” Mr. Moore said.

  “Thank you,” Penelope smiled, and Edward rolled his eyes at her soft blush.

  “Well, that’s done,” Edward said, “Good day, Penelope. Mr. Moore and I have issues to take care of.”

  “Good day, Mr. Moore,” Penelope said to their backs.

  “Good day, My Lady.”

  Thankfully, Edward had turned away the moment Penelope’s eyes had met Mr. Moore’s who had looked over his shoulder. With one shared look and one smile an invisible tether was made between them.

  The question was, where would it take them?

  Chapter 2

  Mr. Moore’s eyes…his eyes are so deep…fathomless even…I wonder what secret they hold? Penelope mused while sorting the books before she shelved them. They are like glittering chips of emerald but deeper…like deep verdant, but lighter.

  Her brother was angry at her for using her childhood nickname for him in polite company. Most of the time she did remember but…eh, what was one slip…or possibly, five?

  “Edward, you need to stop being so childish about these things,” she murmured under her breath.

  Thank God, the two men had left the room before she could have unknitted her tongue and spluttered something foolish.

  She flipped the cover of Pride and Prejudice and smiled. Romance novels were her second favorite genre of books, barely outpacing books about Greek myths and historical texts. She had a penchant to dream but was wise enough to be grounded in reality.

  Flipping the book closed, Penelope slid it in place. Her mind flitted back to Mr. Moore. He was very handsome, but she could not focus on anywhere else but his eyes. They were so…gentle.

  “My Lady,” the shy voice of her lady’s maid, Martha, spoke from the door. “It’s luncheon time.”

  “Do I have to change?” Penelope grumbled.

  “Er, not if you don’t want to, but I would think washing your hands would be good. We don’t have company.”

  Sliding the last book in place, Penelope hummed. “Have you seen the newest footman, Mr. Moore?”

  “I have. I was there when Lord Dawson gave him his room and spoke to Mr. Gastrell to get his measurements and arrange his livery.”

  Trying to suppress her blush while they left the library, Penelope asked, “What do you make of him?”

  “Make of him…how?” Martha asked cautiously.

  Groaning internally, Penelope asked, “Do you think he’s…handsome?”

  “If I am not getting out of line…” Martha said as they entered the drawing-room. “I do.”

  Eyeing her maid at her judicious answer, Penelope went to the set table and sat. Observing the assortment of fruit, tiny crustless sandwiches, and sliced cake, she sighed. Edward was prone to working in his study for hours and left her to eat alone. Mr. Gastrell had placed a tiny table at the window, so she would be able to look out to the grounds below.

  After a moment of grace, she poured a glass of lemonade and sipped it. She cut into a thin sandwich, soft with but
ter and peppery beef, and swallowed it.

  She was taking a sip of her drink when through the window she spotted Mr. Moore. His back was turned to her, and she openly admired his tall, fit form. By the fair bulge in his arms, she knew he was muscular too. To be fair, some of the men she had met in her past two seasons were tall and handsome, but they were sons of peers and did not have muscles.

  Oh, why couldn’t any of the men I had met look like that?

  Her glass lingered at her mouth and she watched a stable hand bring around a horse. The new footman spoke to the young man, then shook his hand before grasping the pommel and hoisting himself up smoothly on the horse. With his chin up and his back ramrod straight, his hand grasping the reins he looked…regal.

  A rich velvet cape and dark hair fluttering in the breeze would befit his posture…he looks like a prince of old.

  Her finger traced the rim of the glass while watched him settle and ride off. He must live a simple life, Penelope mused then sighed. “Not like mine.”

  After she had come of age, Edward had pushed her to get married, but no matter how she tried, not one of the men she met had connected with her on an emotional level. She had come to realize that men of the peerage were linear. There was no speck of mystery or intrigue or even spontaneity. Every man followed the same pattern—meet a lady at a dance, send her flowers the next day, take her to a ride in Hyde Park and then, papers traded between the father and the prospective groom where X’s marked the signature line.

  Frankly, she considered that kind of marriage a step above buying beef in the marketplace, in three cut and dry steps—an item was found, it was haggled over and then bought. After that, there was just…nothing.

  Where was the romance she had read in the books of old? Where were the sacrifices, the almost-insurmountable hardships both the hero and heroine had to conquer before falling into the blissful happily-ever-after? When did the notion of romance die off?

  Unless…desperate pestering was what many men found as an alternative to romance. Case in point, Edward’s closest friend, Stephen Russell, the Baron of Hillbrook. Just thinking of the man made her hand tighten on the glass. Many women would give half of their fortune to have the blond-haired, blue-eyed charmer to give them a moment of his attention. But not her, she got his unwanted attention for free.

  From the very night of her first season, Lord Hillbrook’s advances had not been too overt, but then, he had not been too subtle either. Thank God, the man had taken a trip to America a month ago and given her some breathing room away from his incessant prodding. At first, it had been charming, but now, he was more of an irritant, like a fly that won’t buzz away. Every day she prayed that he would set his sights on marrying another woman, thus escaping his attention.

  “Oh, there you are,” Edward said with a silly grin on his face. “I just got wonderful news, Penelope…Russell is back and is coming for dinner tonight.”

  Her glass nearly dropped out her hand. Dash it all! Instantly, her spirit soured. This had to a joke of cosmic proportions. There she was, happy that the thorn in her side was gone, only to hear that he was coming back that day. Was God laughing at her?

  Surely, surely, God would not be that cruel to destroy her cheer the moment it had sprung up? She pushed her food away as her stomach began to turn. She cast a look at the nearby clock and grimaced; the next four hours of waiting for Lord Hillbrook to arrive were going to be torturous.

  * * *

  While Edward was all agog for his friend to appear, Penelope was much—much—more reserved. In fact, she would rather be pulling her teeth out than standing in the foyer dressed in a dinner gown with a white shawl about her shoulders waiting for Lord Hillbrook to appear.

  The crunch of carriage wheels made her teeth grit, but she breathed through her reluctance to see the Baron. She stepped back when Mr. Gastrell opened the door, and her nemesis stepped in with his signature overdone style: a black tailcoat pinned with a silver watch fob, and a light blue waistcoat that perfectly matched his eyes.

  He was holding a bag in his hand, and Penelope immediately felt scared. Lord, I pray those are not gifts.

  “Russell!” Edward went forward with a beaming smile on his face. “I am happy to see you back home.”

  “Thank you, Dawson,” Stephen said while his eyes lit and stayed upon Penelope. “I am happy to be home. Lady Penelope, you even more beautiful than I remember.”

  “Thank you, Lord Hillbrook.” If her reply sounded rather awkward, it was. She hated getting compliments from him.

  “How many times have I requested that you call me by my given name?” the Baron’s words were a light tease.

  “Considering this time, a hundred-and-thirty-one,” Penelope replied glibly. “But my bother does not call you by your given name, so I will not break precedent, thank you.”

  “I pray one day you will,” Lord Hillbrook smiled. “Anyway, I come bearing gifts.”

  “They can wait until after dinner,” Edward grasped the bag and handed it off to Mr. Gastrell. “Tell us about your trip.”

  Following behind them, Penelope entered the dining room where instead of a chandelier being lit above, the room was bright with enough candlelight to keep the room adequately lit, but was just a touch too intimate, in Penelope’s opinion.

  The long table was set with the cloths for each course, and before Penelope could sit, Lord Hillbrook was pulling the chair out for her. “Here you go, My Lady.”

  His lips were too close to her ear, but she did not say a word. Edward had not noticed because Stephen’s words were timed perfectly to Edward’s head twisting over his shoulder while directing the waiting footman.

  As they sat, the servants poured the wine and set fragrant bowls of white soup before them. Penelope would have wanted something more unconventional like rabbit stew but Lord Hillbrook was more traditional, and her brother would never relent for her in favor of his friend.

  “America is amazing, a little backwater to be honest, but I did like the city of New York,” Lord Hillbrook said. “You should come, Dawson. The American social seasons are much more lax than ours.”

  Edward’s brows lifted, “Are you that ready to sell me off, Russell?”

  The Baron shrugged, “You have not had any luck with these debutantes; why not choose something out of the norm? You look like you could do well with some spice.”

  “Russell!” Edward gaped. “For shame, man! My sister is here!”

  Penelope gently sat her spoon down and wiped her mouth, “Brother, do you really think I am that naïve?”

  “You are not experienced either,” Edward glared.

  “And you, Lady Penelope,” Lord Hillbrook turned his benign but somehow predatory eyes on her. “How are you on that front?”

  “Unattached,” Penelope replied simply.

  “And not seeking either,” Edward said in retaliation.

  Now it was her turn to glare, “Thank you, Eddie, I had not noticed.”

  Stephen’s delightful laugh broke up the siblings near-squabble, “I am glad to see that nothing between you have changed. I think both of you could benefit from going to New York, Dawson you can get a lady, and Penelope can marry me.”

  It was said in a tease, but her stomach still twisted.

  “I have to decline,” Edward sighed while sitting back. Servants removed the bowls and set down the food for the next course. While her brother chose roasted beef and Stephen chose fish, she opted for a beef pie.

  The conversation meandered between safe topics until dessert came along. Stephen called for his bag to be brought over, and while the table was being set, he pulled out a box and handed it to Penelope.

  “My gift to you, Lady Penelope,” Stephen smiled.

  Swallowing over the lump in her throat, Penelope took it and opened it. Inside were lines of tiny finger-shaped wafers that had the intoxicating scent of chocolate and spice.

  “Er…” Penelope asked, “Pardon me, what are these?”

  “Bis
cotti,” Stephen replied, “An old Italian treat that is normally baked twice to get it hard, but I asked my friend’s contact to make them softer than that, more cake like.”

  “Thank you…?” Penelope said as she shifted the box in her hands.

  “Try one,” the Baron encouraged, and she looked up to see Edward giving her a permissive nod.

  She took the nearest wafer and bit into it. The cake melted into the mouth and the sweetness erupted over her tongue. She swallowed, “It is divine.”

  “Wonderful,” Stephen grinned and leaned forward. “Now that you’re bitten it, I do hope the love potion will begin to work.”

  Penelope nearly hacked up a lung. “Excuse me? What love potion?”

  Chapter 3

  The one-bedroom home Heath arrived to was as empty as he had left it. It was the home he rarely used whenever he was not employed with various Lords. Thankfully, he was moving into Dawson’s home on the morrow.

  The windows were dark and the sole tree to the side was swaying in the invisible wind. His meeting with Lord Allerton had gone well, and he was interested in working with the man, but it was his sister who intrigued him the most.

  Lady Penelope Dawson had a look in her eye he remembered his mother had—that of a marvelous intellect and a jovial character. Her face had meandered between that of a teenage girl and a young woman, so he was not sure how old she was.

  Alighting from his trusted horse, Duke, Heath guided the dark standard breed to his single-box stable—if he could reasonably call it such. Heath unsaddled him, gave him a soothing rubdown, pitched some straw back into his trough and some water into another before he rubbed his horse’s ears and went to his home.

  The interior was a spartan cave, with only the bare necessities—a bed, wardrobe, cast-iron tub, and a kitchen nook. He instantly gravitated to the washbasin and cleansed his hands. From there, he filled an old copper kettle and hung it on the hooks before rousing the fire. Then he took a wrapped loaf of bread, sliced two hefty slices, dropped them in a pan and placed on the grate.