Lords to Be Enamored With: A Historical Regency Romance Collection

by Bridget Barton

  Cecilia uttered a shrill scream. “You are impossible. Impossible!”

  “Why? Because I am choosing to be happy? Because I shall not be forced into a situation that I shall regret for the rest of my life?”

  “You do not have much of a life, sister dearest. You play and play and play on that wretched pianoforte, and when you are not doing that, you are studying music until darkness descends and forces you to retire to your bed. And all for what? What do you get out of it? Tell me that, please, because I do not understand.”

  “Happiness!” Elizabeth shouted. “Fulfilment. Satisfaction. Peace! Need I go on?”

  Cecilia started clapping. "Wonderful! How wonderful for you. Look, everyone, my sister, Elizabeth Ramsbury, is a fulfilled woman, so much so that she will not allow her sister to be happy."

  Elizabeth just shook her head, no longer surprised by her sister's penchant for nastiness.

  “Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, but I daresay that you feel quite at home using it.”

  Cecilia shrugged her shoulders. “I speak my mind. There is no crime against that.”

  Elizabeth turned away, worried that she would say something she would later come to regret.

  “Elizabeth, I have a solution for you.”

  "Well, I do not care to hear it."

  “Your approval is not needed. I propose that you should choose the first unlucky man that will have you as you are obviously intent upon remaining the unhappy, cold, selfish and lonely person that you are.”

  Elizabeth saw red. How dare Cecilia say this to her? She whipped around, intending to burn her sister's ears with her words of wrath, but she stopped upon seeing the tears streaming down her face.

  “Cecilia?”

  The dam that was holding her sister's tears back released itself on a heart-wrenching sob. Cecilia came to kneel before her, grabbing her around the knees. Elizabeth was so surprised that she stood there stiff, her arms locked to her sides.

  "Oh, Elizabeth! Please do not take away my chance of happiness. I love him so much, I truly do. I shall die if I cannot be with him. I beg of you to reconsider your decision. Do not take away my happiness, please. My life is in your hands."

  As Cecilia knelt on the ground crying, Elizabeth could feel the firm resolve of her heart begin to melt away. She was reluctant to change her mind, but listening to her sister's cries was more than she could bear. Seeing her like this reminded her of days gone past when Cecilia would run to her for any little thing, always seeking comfort from her.

  Can I take her happiness away? She wondered. I know that I would be giving up everything that I had ever hoped for, but she is my sister. She may not look up to me any longer, but I still am protective of her.

  Elizabeth placed her hand on Cecilia's head, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “I shall do it.”

  Cecilia did not seem to hear her because she continued to sob, wetting Elizabeth's dress with all sorts of body fluids. She decided to lift her sister up, bringing her to eye level. Cecilia's face was blotchy, her eyes puffy and red.

  “Did you not hear me? I said that I shall do it.”

  “Do what?”

  She rolled her eyes. "The London season, Ceci. I shall go there and try to look for a husband. However, I do not promise anything."

  Cecilia's eyes widened. “Do you mean it? Do you truly mean it?”

  “I have said it, have I not?”

  She stumbled slightly as Cecilia threw herself at her, hugging her tightly.

  “Oh, thank you, thank you, Elizabeth! Thank you! I knew that you would never let me down!”

  Perhaps so. But Elizabeth had let herself down.

  *

  Elizabeth stood in the middle of her room staring at the trunks stacked against the wall.

  She was doing this. She was truly doing this.

  It had been a week since she had agreed to travel to London for the season, but it only felt like yesterday. It had all happened so quickly. It was frightful to think that she was walking to her doom. Well, perhaps not walking as I shall be travelling by carriage, but the feeling of doom still rests upon me. Papa had said that he will personally pick my husband if I return without one. She sighed.

  “I am damned if I do, and equally as damned if I do not.” Her life was not turning out in the manner that she had hoped. Poor Mama had hardly left her room.

  It seemed as though her mother was taking the news even harder. There was not a day that she had not sported red eyes and a shiny nose. She kept on apologising to Elizabeth, crying as she did so. She never said much else. She was probably reliving her past. Had the same not happened to her? Now she had to witness it happening all over again, this time to her own daughter. Elizabeth felt sorrier for her mother than herself. She had hardly spoken to Papa since the arrangements were made.

  Her mother hardly looked at him, preferring to look in the other direction or to just walk away. If that was what Elizabeth had to look forward to in her future, then so be it. She was made of far sterner stuff than most people. Cecilia came skipping into the room, her smile hardly having left her face since she had got her own way.

  “The carriage is here, Elizabeth. Papa says that we must be going.”

  She sighed. “Very well, but I wish to supervise the loading of our trunks.”

  “Oh, leave it to Mrs Potts, she is far more capable. I am so excited, I can hardly bear it.”

  Elizabeth tried to muster a smile, but it felt more like a grimace.

  “Uh, yes, excited. We may as well go.”

  Cecilia skipped out of the room, giving Elizabeth time to collect herself. A part of her still could not believe that she was actually leaving her home for the London season. She did not know what to expect. The last time she had attended the season, marriage had not been on her mind. However, now...

  Now there was pressure to be successful in finding a spouse. Perhaps things would have been easier if her aunt and uncle actually had a pianoforte in their home.

  There was no use in dragging it out any longer. She swept out of the room, not feeling the least prepared for the weeks ahead.

  Chapter 5

  Two nights at their aunt and uncle's townhouse, and already they were due to attend a ball. Elizabeth had hardly had time to do anything, but now she found herself trying to choose a dress for the first ball of the season. She hated to think just how many balls will be held during her stay. The only pleasant thing about being here was the fact that she did not have to share a room with her sister. Aunt Deborah had been insistent about that. There would be nothing worse than having her sister retelling the very same ball she had attended.

  Cecilia was not happy at first, having been accustomed to having her sister around when she wanted her, but Aunt Deborah would not relent. Her sister had had no choice but to accept it. Two days in and Elizabeth felt a sense of freedom that she had never felt before. Was life not amusing? She had come here to end her freedom, but she had a wonderful sense of freedom staying here.

  How ironic life could be. Undecided, she sat on the floor and crossed her legs, staring at the three dresses on her bed. She needed to choose one, but it had to be the perfect one so that she may enter the ball on a good note. People would be looking. Thus, she needed to look her best.

  She could not be the least bothered by all of this frippery, but Cecilia would be sure to send a letter home telling Papa of her less than enthusiastic attitude to finding a husband.

  Chin in hand, she pursed her lips, wishing that she was seated at her pianoforte playing to her heart's content as opposed to sitting on the floor staring at dresses.

  Although she had to admit that the floor was comfortable, especially with its soft carpet. Aunt Deborah was a wonderful hostess.

  And bubbly. The woman always had a smile on her face, a joke to share, and a giggle to tickle anyone's funny bone. The complete opposite of Mama. Elizabeth felt ashamed for thinking so, but neither could she lie. The major difference between her mother and h
er aunt did not solely rest in temperament and attitude but in their spouses. Aunt Deborah had somehow managed to find a man who doted upon her, referred to her as 'my heart', and loved to please her. Her mother, on the other hand, was forced into a marriage with a man who cared more about propriety than his wife.

  Poor Papa did not seem to know of any other way, but it was difficult on Mama, who was a woman of passion, or at least she was once.

  Her mother seldom showed any sign of feeling beyond a smile or a slight frown. However, even those minor facial expressions spoke volumes. There were rare times of laughter, but they were few and far between. Lately, there had been more tears than anything else.

  She wondered how Mama and Papa were faring now that they were not there.

  Elizabeth had asked Mrs Potts to keep an eye on her parents. While as a servant she did not have the right to question her master and mistress, surely she could respectfully intervene if things were to get too heated? Her parents respected Mrs Potts, perhaps they would listen to her.

  The door was suddenly flung open, revealing a stressed Cecilia. “I have nothing to wear!” she cried.

  “Impossible, Ceci. You brought many dresses with you, surely one of them will suffice?”

  “Do you not know anything?” she complained. “Everyone there will be dressed in the latest fashion while I shall be coming in last year's dress. Oh, how I hate living in the countryside! We are always slow to learn of anything new.”

  "Oh Cecilia, you are making a mountain out of a molehill. You are a stunning young woman, one who already has her suitor. You do not need to impress anyone."

  Cecilia threw her hands into the air. “Why do I even bother speaking with you? You are no help to me at all.”

  She stormed out of the room in a huff, no doubt going in search of their aunt, who seemed to be on top of the trends of London, although she was not fashion forward herself. Aunt Deborah was not one to pander to the expectations of others, preferring to be herself. That was her charm, being a woman who stuck to her guns even in the midst of judgement. It was a good thing that Uncle Noah loved her exactly as she was.

  They had two sets of twins between them – two girls and two boys – as well as an older daughter. All of their daughters were happily married, and both boys were away on their travels across Europe. The youngest daughter, who was a year younger than Elizabeth, had recently been married in a small ceremony to a baronet, so her aunt and uncle were appreciative of their home being filled once more. They were the type of parents who genuinely enjoyed having children, and did not merely see them as heirs or daughters to be married off. The fact that all their daughters' marriages were love matches gave Elizabeth a tiny bit of hope for herself.

  “I may get lucky and find the perfect man, one who will allow me to be myself and encourage my music passion,” she mused out loud. She giggled to herself. I sound ridiculous! What man will appreciate music within the marriage? The first thing that he will do is tell me that there is no time for such things. Was that not the same with every husband? Demand, demand, demand that is all they ever did. She had had enough of all this fuss for a husband. She got up off the floor and spun around. The dress she touched first after spinning would be the one that she was going to wear. One, two, three, four, five. She stopped, tottering forward until she lost her balance and fell to the bed. Once the room had stopped spinning, she looked underneath her.

  “The pink one it is.”

  *

  The carriage ride over had not exactly been full of scintillating conversation. The minute Aunt Deborah mentioned that the scorned baron would be in attendance, Cecilia had proceeded with the gossip that she had heard.

  “That is all very true,” her aunt said. “But he seems to have got over the entire ordeal if he is attending the London season.”

  “Or perhaps he just wishes to put the scandal behind him,” Elizabeth commented.

  “Either way, this night can only be interesting and lively,” said Cecilia. “Can you imagine? Being in a crowd of people who all know that your sweetheart rejected you and ran away. I would surely die! I would not show my face in public for the longest while. How humiliating!”

  Elizabeth did not know how much longer she could take of listening to this story. Surely they had exhausted the topic by now. Thankfully, the carriage arrived at the location of the ball, which drew Cecilia's attention away from the baron and to what lay before her.

  "Oh, my heavens!" Cecilia screeched. "This is massive! Look at how many people are in here! I am so glad that we came, Elizabeth."

  “Mmm.”

  As soon as the door opened, Cecilia leapt out, nearly falling as she did not wait for the step to be put down. The doorman steadied her, avoiding an embarrassing fall.

  "Oh, my," Cecilia said, her cheeks pink. "I may never have lived that down had I fallen flat on my bottom, or worse, my face. Why did you not warn me, Elizabeth?"

  “Warn you? Since when do you not know that each carriage comes with a step? Especially ones that are so far off the ground as this one. You can hardly blame me for that.”

  “Oh, phooey! At least no one has seen me.”

  “There is that,” Uncle Noah replied, a twinkle in his grey eyes.

  Elizabeth and her company waited for the step to be put down. Only then did she gracefully alight the carriage, giving her sister a raised eyebrow as she did so. Cecilia stuck out her tongue.

  They were announced as they entered the ballroom, many eyes turning to look at them curiously. The gazes only lasted a few seconds as their attention went back to themselves and their companions.

  “Breathe dear,” Uncle Noah whispered. “You will faint dead away if you insist on holding your breath.”

  Elizabeth let it out in one swoosh, smiling at Uncle Noah as she tried to control her nerves. “I cannot understand why I am in high fidgets. I have attended a London season before, but I find myself high strung and in need of a chair.”

  Uncle Noah took her arm in his, patting it. “Come, I shall guide you inside. If you feel faint, I shall hold you up. How does that sound?”

  "Splendid, Uncle Noah, thank you."

  They walked down the stairs, Elizabeth hoping that she didn’t trip. It would be just what she needed – to end up with broken bones. Cecilia was a couple steps ahead, so eager was she to take in everything that the ballroom had to offer. Aunt Deborah linked her arm in with Uncle Noah's on the other side, and the three of them got to the bottom without any mishaps.

  “Well, that went as well as could be,” said Elizabeth.

  “Well done, dear,” her aunt said. “Now it is time to mingle. Fill up your dance card with good suitors and do not forget to smile.”

  Elizabeth attempted a smile, but it did not feel right. Uncle Noah looked at her, chuckling.

  “My dear Elizabeth, if that is a smile, then I am the king, although we do not seem to have one at this moment.”

  “I am trying, Uncle. This is all that I can muster at this moment time.”

  They neared the drinks table where a large bowl of punch sat.

  “Here,” her aunt said, handing her a glass of punch. “Drink this. It should calm your nerves. Not too much, mind you. We would not want to drag you off the floor.”

  Both her aunt and uncle laughed, as though they had just shared a private joke. They were strange like that, always laughing and silently communicating with each other. They were the epitome of the term soulmate. Cecilia suddenly appeared, dragging a familiar girl with her.