Lords to Be Enamored With: A Historical Regency Romance Collection

by Bridget Barton

  But that ought not to have stopped her silently, secretly, supporting her own daughter. It ought not to have stopped her from providing comfort when the two of them were alone. But that was something that Lady Upperton had never done.

  Isabella was determined not to take on such guilt. She was sad, heartbroken even, and that would have to be sufficient. It was enough, surely, without taking the blame for feeling less than she ought for a woman who did not even attend her wedding. Isabella knew that her mother had always protected herself from hurt of any kind. She could not even face her daughter’s pain, and so chose to turn away from it all and leave Isabella to suffer alone. What on earth did Isabella have to feel guilty about? And then it hit her.

  “This is all my fault,” she said, and the shock of the realization almost led her to let go of her brandy glass.

  “Isabella?” Elliot began to rise from his seat again but stopped. “How on earth can you think that?”

  “I was the one who declared that you should not give my father another penny, was I not?”

  “But…”

  “And I knew what he was capable of. He even told me that my mother would suffer for it all if I did not convince you to increase the settlement you had made upon me.”

  “But Isabella…”

  “And it was out of spite. And not just spite towards my father but, and may God forgive me, my mother, also. I wanted her to know how I had felt all those years. I wanted her to realize that I had felt helpless and afraid and that the simplest of touches or a kind word from her would have at least made me feel loved.” Isabella almost choked on the sob which erupted so suddenly that she was taken by surprise.

  “I wanted to punish her for not even being at my side when I was married. Well, behold my success! See how badly I have punished her. Oh, for the power to take it all back, I would give anything.” Isabella dropped her head and cried.

  “Isabella, please do not do this to yourself.” She had not seen or heard Elliot approach and only became aware of him when he knelt before her and took her hands in his own.

  “How can I not blame myself? What would it have harmed me had you given my father the money?” she said angrily. “It would not have made a jot of difference to my life, would it? And yet I was too peevish to behave as a better woman and think for a moment what my mother would suffer because of it all. We do not have the right to punish others in this life, and yet I took that right as my own. Even if God can forgive me, I shall never, ever forgive myself.”

  “Neither God nor you need to search about for forgiveness to give, Isabella.” Elliot squeezed her hands. “For I paid your father the money anyway.”

  “You paid him?” Isabella looked at Elliot incredulously and then began to shake her head. “Elliot, you cannot simply say something like that to alleviate my guilt.”

  “I speak the truth, Isabella.”

  “He does speak the truth. I was the one who made the payment on Elliot’s behalf,” Crawford added.

  Isabella looked up at him, her eyes stinging, and the soft skin of her face already raw from crying. “As I do all of Elliot’s banking business, it was a task much like any other.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. But I can understand why you might think that Elliot and I would seek to ease your suffering with a falsehood,” he spoke in so kindly a manner that her tears began afresh.

  “I would not wish to give offence to either of you,” Isabella said hurriedly.

  “I am not offended.” Isabella could see that Elliot was smiling at her and thought how beautiful that smile was; how kind and caring.

  “And neither am I. And I would gladly show you the docket from the bank if it would put your mind at rest.” Crawford was clearly not insulted.

  “Oh, goodness no. I believe you, really I do.” Isabella took the handkerchief that Elliot handed her. “Thank you.” She smiled at him sadly.

  “Forgive me for going over your head and paying your father without your own authorization. In truth, I had thought that you would never discover my deception,” Elliot began awkwardly.

  “I am not angry.”

  “I knew you were angry and embarrassed by your father’s behaviour, but I wanted to be on the safe side, just in case your father intended to carry out his threat to hurt your mother. I did not want you to come to regret a decision made in anger. But I did not go against your wishes lightly. I agonized over it for some days before acceding to your father’s request.”

  “Thank you, Elliot. Thank you for acting in reason when I could not.”

  “Had I known you a little better, then I should not have hidden it from you. I should have told you what I had done and why. But at the time, we were still just barely acquainted, and I could tell that I had already pressed you for too much information in regard to your father’s behaviour as a man, and I did not want to make you even more uneasy.”

  “Elliot, you did the right thing, and I shall always be grateful to you.”

  “But in the end, it changed nothing, did it?” Elliot, still on bended knees before her, sighed.

  “Yes, it did. It changed how I would live the rest of my life. You spared me from the most dreadful guilt, and I cannot tell you what that means to me. Whatever awful, pointless justification my father gives himself for his crime, at least he cannot soothe himself that I am ultimately to blame, can he?”

  “No, that he cannot do.” Elliot rose and took her glass before pulling her to her feet. “I think you should lay down for a while. I will call Kitty to come up and bring you some hot milk and a sleeping draught.”

  “Thank you,” Isabella said and was grateful for his kindness and care.

  Chapter 26

  The next days seemed to pass in a haze of emotions for Isabella. She was afraid to go to her mother’s funeral because it would make the whole thing absolutely real. Even though she knew without a doubt that her mother was dead, still she had moments in which it was almost as if nothing had changed.

  Isabella knew that it was because she had not been there at the time. She had witnessed nothing, nor had she seen her mother’s body.

  With an awful wrench to her stomach, Isabella wondered if her brother had seen it happen. As unpleasant as he was, at just fourteen years, it would have been a most terrible thing. For anybody to see one parent murder the other would be indescribable, but for a boy of his age, it would be unthinkable. And for Anthony to have to continue to live under that roof with the knowledge of what his father had done could not bear thinking about.

  Even without witnessing the incident, surely Anthony knew enough about life at Upperton Hall to know his father capable of such a thing. Even to suspect it would make life with his father unbearable from now on, surely.

  And yet, just as she was powerless to help her mother, Isabella could not see how she was able to help her brother either. He was in line to be the next Earl of Upperton, and nothing would stand in the way of that. And the person who would be charged with the boy’s instruction on the duties that would one day be his could only be the current Earl.

  The whole thing was impossible, and all that Isabella could do in the end was hope that her brother was blissfully ignorant of all that was so painfully obvious to her.

  Kitty had helped her to get ready for the funeral, providing more comfort to her in those minutes than her mother had ever provided in a lifetime. How confusing it all was to be grieving for somebody when you were unsure of your feelings for them and their feelings for you. It was making the whole thing so much harder.

  Kitty had worn black also and, as they both descended the great staircase, it was clear to Isabella that Kitty had fully determined to go with her.

  In the great entrance hall, Isabella pulled her thick black shawl around her shoulders as she stared blankly at the wooden horse and armour-plated rider. If only she could be the knight hiding inside, ready to take off for adventures anywhere but there, shielded from pain and sadness by a thick metal shell.

  “
Your Grace?” Kitty said, and Isabella turned back to answer before she realized that Kitty was not speaking to her.

  “Good morning, Kitty.” Elliot was striding down the staircase dressed in black and wearing something over his head. “Unfortunately, necessary for the world outside.” He laughed sadly and pointed to what Isabella could now see was a hood of some kind.

  It was made of black fabric and was loose fitting. Isabella could not help staring at him for a moment as she took in the curious headwear.

  It was a full hood which covered most of his scarring and a good deal of the unblemished side of his face. It was a garment which would undoubtedly draw almost as much attention as would its lack.

  “Kitty, I shall be attending the funeral.” Elliot smiled warmly at the maid, despite the hood, and effectively relieved her of the awful duty.

  “Elliot, I had not expected…” Isabella began.

  “You had not expected your husband to attend the funeral of your mother at your side?”

  “I am sorry. I did not mean…”

  “You need not apologize. Since I never leave Coldwell Hall, it was a perfectly natural assumption.” He looked at her a little sheepishly as if the hood itself gave him almost as much embarrassment as the ruined skin beneath its soft folds. “But I shall be coming with you.”

  “Thank you, «she said and took the arm he offered to her before they walked out of the immense doorway and across to the waiting carriage.

  They traveled much of the way to the church in silence. Isabella was deeply touched by Elliot’s sudden appearance and wondered just what it had cost him to get as far as the carriage. And yet, despite the strangeness of the hood and her nerves about the funeral, Elliot’s presence at that moment was more reassuring than anything she had experienced in her life.

  “I hope my appearance does not cause you embarrassment,” Elliot finally spoke just as the carriage drew up to the church.

  “No. I am very grateful that you have come today. I know it cannot have been an easy decision to make, and I shall not forget it.” She touched his arm before the door opened and their driver helped her down.

  Elliot held out his arm again and walked her slowly to the freshly dug grave in the churchyard. Isabella felt the weight of reality sitting heavily upon her and wondered how she would make it through.

  Her mother was so young to have had her life ended so brutally; she was not yet five and forty years old, just seven years older than Elliot, and the thought of it made Isabella feel nauseous.

  “Will you manage?” Elliot whispered into her ear.

  “Yes, «she said in a dry whisper.

  The service had been brief, and she had no doubt that it was on her father’s demand that the Reverend had kept it so.

  Throughout the ceremony, Isabella cast several looks at her father and was surprised to see how drawn he looked.

  The Earl of Upperton looked grey and his eyes somewhat sunken in their sockets as if he had neither eaten nor slept for days. It was hardly what she had expected at all, and she wondered if it was a guilty reaction to whatever angry outburst had brought them all to the graveside that day.

  Whenever he looked over at her, Isabella looked away from her father in disgust. She could not look upon the murderer and did not want to appear to offer him solace with something as simple as eye contact.

  Instead, she looked for her young brother. Anthony was standing between his father and Isabella’s old governess. Although Anthony was now at Eton, the governess remained in the employ of the Earl.

  The governess, who had never been particularly warm, tried more than once to take Anthony’s hand. Isabella watched in dismay as she saw her brother shake away the woman’s unusual attempt at kindness time and time again.

  Not only did he shrug her away, but Isabella saw clearly how he looked at the woman with arrogant contempt. So, he did not feel the need for comfort as Isabella did. Perhaps it was merely a youthful performance. After all, Anthony had been raised in arrogance and heavily schooled in the outward display the Earl in waiting must make in every given scenario.

  And yet, Isabella had a creeping sensation that there was more to it than that. She tried to look into his eyes but could not hold the gaze. She had expected to see pain there, some sort of emotional upheaval behind the arrogant façade, but she could see nothing. There was nothing there to suggest that his mother’s death and subsequent funeral was anything more than an inconvenience to him.

  Surely his father’s evil ways had not penetrated so far into his young soul? Isabella shuddered, and Elliot turned to her a little. She nodded briefly to indicate that she was alright; she was managing.

  Isabella continued to look around and was relieved to see Esme Montague among the other mourners with her own parents. She would be glad to have a few minutes with her at the end of the service to provide a little stability. Esme gave her the briefest flicker of a smile when their eyes met, and Isabella felt tears well in her own eyes. How she loved Esme, and how glad she was that she still had her friend in her life.

  As the service drew to its conclusion, and her mother’s coffin was lowered into the ground, Isabella choked back a sob. As Elliot put a steadying arm around her shoulders, Isabella became aware of so many eyes on them.

  Even in the midst of grief, there were still some who would let their curiosity lead them astray. Isabella felt a surge of anger at the idea that Elliot, a finer man than any stood at her mother’s graveside that day, would still have to suffer the stares of the curious. What a world they all lived in.

  As soon as the coffin was lowered and the last handfuls of dirt thrown in, Isabella’s included, Esme hurried across to her.

  “Oh, my dear Isabella,” Esme said with red-rimmed eyes.

  Of all present, Isabella knew that her dear friend’s grief and sympathy were genuine.

  “Esme, thank you for coming.”

  “How could I not? Are you going back to Upperton after the service?”

  “I could not,” Isabella said and felt fortified by the feel of Esme’s hands in her own. “I could not be there with the man who murdered my mother.”

  “You believe your father is to blame.” It was not a question, and it was clear that Esme was perfectly prepared to accept the theory as true.

  After all, she knew well of the Earl of Upperton and his cruel ways.

  “Yes. I could not be in his company.”

  “And yet he is waiting for you. I can see him out of the corner of my eye hovering and awaiting your presence,” Esme spoke urgently.

  “Oh no, I can hardly escape his company here.”

  “You may leave whenever you wish, Isabella. Your father has no rights over you.” Elliot reminded her of his presence at her side.

  “Forgive me, Your Grace,” Esme said and looked up at the hooded face without any hint of awkwardness. “I did not mean to talk across you.” She bobbed low. “I am Esme Montague, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance finally, albeit in such sad circumstances.”

  “And I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Montague.” Elliot bowed also, and Isabella felt sure she heard a little relief in his voice as if he was truly expecting an adverse reaction.

  “I am looking forward to my next visit to Coldwell Hall. You have a very beautiful home, Your Grace, and it was a rare treat to be in such beautifully tended grounds.” Esme continued to look at him, giving no hint that she had taken in the curious hood at all.