Lords to Be Enamored With: A Historical Regency Romance Collection

by Bridget Barton

  “Dear God,” he muttered, staring at them. “Is she all right? I will do anything to save her from pain …”

  George stared at him, his face pinched and strained. “It is the reason that she wanted to stay away from you, my lord.” He turned back to Alicia. “Because she knew that people like Miss Drake would twist it and judge her and find her wanting. As if she was somehow sullied through such a thing.”

  “Our sister has been melancholy with it, my lord,” said Diana. “She tries to keep her spirits up and live her life the way that she wants to, but sometimes it overwhelms her.” She took a deep breath. “But she is brave, and strong, and it never defeats her. Never.”

  “I fear for her now, though,” said George, glancing fiercely at Alicia. “To have been attacked in such a manner, and in public, will be deeply mortifying to her.”

  Alicia fanned herself vigorously, her eyes wild, looking like a spooked horse. For a moment, Sebastian thought she was going to faint. Then she turned, sharply, and without a further word to any of them pushed through the crowd.

  “That woman is a snake,” said George, viciously, watching her depart. “You know how she found out about what was wrong with Charlotte? She sent one of her maids to our house, seeking information. So that she could discredit her like this.” He stared at Sebastian. “Why is Miss Drake so threatened by our sister, my lord, that she would stoop to such tactics?”

  Sebastian’s lips thinned. A raging anger had overtaken him, at what Miss Drake had just done to his beloved Charlotte. At first, he had been merely shocked, almost unable to react, as it had all unfolded. But now that he knew the story – or as much of it as he needed to know, for now – he saw the truth of it.

  Miss Drake had seen them together and was jealous. She had deliberately approached them with the intent of publicly humiliating Charlotte and discredit her in his eyes. Alicia had thought that by doing so, she would push Charlotte out of his life, once and for all. That when he heard that she was sick and ailing he would discard his feelings for her as if they were a pile of rags. Thus paving the way for Alicia to finally snare her prize.

  He took a deep breath. Miss Drake had overplayed her hand and it had backfired. The only pariah was her. Other people at this ball had heard her cruel play, and he would make it known who he supported. It wasn’t Miss Drake. He didn’t care anymore what his parents said, how they were pressuring him to court her, with a view to marriage. He didn’t care about any of it.

  “She is beyond contempt,” he said slowly, staring at George and Diana. “I know the reason why she has done it, but it will not get her what she wants. Quite the opposite, in fact.” He kept gazing at them. “Thank you for telling me. And now, if you will excuse me, I must find Charlotte and see that she is well.”

  George nodded. “Yes, please try. We will look for her too.” He blinked back tears. “We are worried about her, my lord.”

  Sebastian nodded. “Never fear. I will find her if it is the last thing that I do.”

  He bowed quickly, then fled into the crowd. He had to find her. His sweet Charlotte, who had endured so much and had suffered again tonight.

  ***

  He was weaving his way through the crowd, desperately searching for her, when someone laid a hand on his arm. He turned around, distracted, to see his old friend Lord Freddie Burrows standing there, a glass of champagne in hand. He ran an eye over his outfit quickly. Freddie was dressed as a monk, in a hessian brown robe with a large black cross hanging from the belt, and a deep hood.

  “I was wondering if you were here, old boy,” said Freddie, grinning. “Fancy a game of whist at the tables?”

  Sebastian shook his head impatiently. “Not now, Burrows. I have to find someone …”

  Freddie gazed at him steadily. “Would that someone be Lady Charlotte Lumley, by any chance?” He raised his eyebrows. “I saw you with her earlier, and I saw her in the crowd afterwards, looking as though she were being pursued by the devil himself.”

  “You saw her?” Sebastian glared at him. “What way did she go? Do you know where she is?”

  Freddie raised his eyebrows higher, so they almost reached his hairline. “I think that you are making a mistake, old boy.” He took a sip of his champagne. “What have we discussed, about leaving Lady Charlotte alone? Her wild look as she pushed through this crowd says it all, really.”

  Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t have time for this. “Is that right, Burrows? And what exactly makes you the expert on who I should stay away from and who I shouldn’t?” He paused. “For that matter, who says that it is any of your business?”

  Freddie looked surprised. “We’ve talked about this, Wharton. I told you that there is a cloud hanging over the lady, and her behaviour tonight only blackens it further.”

  “Right.” His mouth twisted on the word. “You know, I thought that you, of all people, might not be so judgemental. You are supposed to be my friend.” He paused. “You have it all wrong. The only person here tonight whose behaviour has blackened her character is Miss Alicia Drake, who has stooped so low to publicly attack a woman of good character.”

  Freddie looked dumbfounded. “But there is obviously something amiss with Lady Charlotte.”

  Sebastian took a deep breath. “You know what? I don’t care even if there is.” He paused. “I don’t care if she is sickly, or ailing, or if her family have tried to hide it from the world. What of it? I know her, Burrows, and I don’t care a fig for anything that is whispered about her, by people who do not know her.”

  “But you must,” said Freddie, looking puzzled. “You are to become a duke, and reputation is everything.”

  Sebastian stared at him. There was no use speaking another word to his old friend. He had been misguided in his advice from the very beginning, even though it had come from what he thought was a good place. To Freddie, the only thing that mattered was status and reputation. He was entrenched in the beau monde, so much so that he couldn’t see the forest for the trees anymore.

  Sebastian frowned. That was all that mattered to any of these people, and he had had quite enough of it. Freddie and his ilk would all applaud him for snaring a woman like Alicia Drake, who was as conniving and heartless a person as he had ever met, while looking down their noses at Charlotte, who was gentle, intelligent and almost luminous with beauty, inside and out.

  All that glitters is not gold, he thought grimly.

  He knew what side of the fence he wanted to be on. He was only sorry that he had ever listened to Freddie, or his parents, or anyone who had egged him into courting Miss Drake and discarding Charlotte in the process.

  He had been weak-willed, and easily swayed, and he was heartily ashamed of himself. He didn’t care if his father cut off his allowance, or his mother wouldn’t talk to him, or Freddie suddenly decided that he didn’t want to be tainted by association for daring to think for himself. None of it mattered.

  He took a deep breath. The only thing that mattered was finding Charlotte. Without another word he walked away, pushing back through the crowd.

  ***

  He stood in the centre of the room, staring around. Twice he had done the circuit of it, and still he couldn’t see her anywhere. He had gone into the gaming room, where the card tables were full to overflowing with gentlemen, and the supper room, where the dowagers stuffed their faces with the delicacies on offer and sat together gossiping about the crowd. She wasn’t in there, either.

  He was at a loss. Where was she? Suddenly, he spied her sister, weaving through the crowd. He walked towards her quickly.

  “Have you found her yet?” he asked.

  Diana shook her head, a deep frown on her face. “Both George and I have been searching, but we cannot see her.”

  He sighed deeply. “Could she have gone to your carriage? To get away from the crowd?”

  Diana looked surprised. “I would think it unlikely, but I suppose there is always the chance.”

  “I will go out there now,” he said.
“Do not worry. I will find her. I promise you.”

  Diana looked relieved, nodding. He turned and walked back through the crowd, towards the foyer. At the doorway he frowned, glancing up at the sky. It was raining, and it was getting heavier. He darted down the steps towards the carriages, all lined up in a row along the street. The coachmen were all clustered together in a corner, where there was some shelter.

  He ran up to them. “Which one of you is the driver for the Earl of Montgomery?”

  The men all stared at him as if he were mad. “That would be Barnes,” said one eventually. “But he ain’t here. He cleared off to the ale house around the corner, saying he’d be back in an hour or so.”

  Sebastian sighed heavily. “Which is their carriage? Have any of you seen a young lady going into it tonight?”

  “It’s down the way there,” said the man, pointing. “But no one is in it, my lord.” He hesitated. “There was a young lady out here before.”

  “Aye,” piped up another man. “A young lady, dressed up in a fancy costume.”

  “What kind of costume?” asked Sebastian, a bit desperately. “Did she look like Cleopatra?”

  The men all looked blank. “Who’s she?” asked one, grinning.

  Sebastian sighed impatiently. “The Queen of Egypt. She would have been wearing a golden gown, and a large gold necklace, and a circlet on her head, with a snake in the middle of it.”

  The men nodded. “That was her,” said the first man. “Dressed up all foreign like.”

  Sebastian stared at him. “Well, where did she go? Did you see?”

  “She was running like she was mad,” said one of the men. “Running through the rain. She didn’t take any notice of us, but we all thought it strange, a grand lady running by herself away from the ball.”

  Sebastian’s heart seized. “Which way did she go?” He stared at them hard. “Answer me!”

  One of the men pointed down the road. “That way.”

  Sebastian didn’t wait a second longer. He ran down the street, heart thumping wildly. What on earth had possessed her to abandon the house and run away through the rain? A young lady who was never even allowed to walk by herself during the day in this city?

  But he knew the answer. She had been desperate, needing to escape the ball. All because of the poisoned words of Miss Drake. She had felt alone, and overwhelmed. She had been publicly humiliated.

  Where was she going? But he knew the answer to that, too. She was going home, to retreat into her shell once more. To escape the world. He knew which direction she would have taken.

  Sebastian stared up at the sky, willing it to stop raining. She was in danger, alone, on dark city streets at night in the rain. He had to get to her, before something happened.

  Chapter 26

  Charlotte sobbed quietly as she ran down the deserted cobblestone streets. If anyone passed by, at least they would not see her tears. It had been raining so hard that the drops from heaven had washed away all traces of them.

  She was cold and drenched, her gown clinging to her flesh. Violent waves of shaking had overtaken her, and she could see goosepimples on her arms, the hairs standing on end. She hadn’t even retrieved her cloak from the house to protect her from the weather. She had been so intent on escaping that she had not thought any of this through properly.

  The rain slowed to a drizzle, and then stopped. She looked up, staring at the sky gratefully, but the damage had already been done. She was sopping. She imagined that she looked like a drowned rat. How would her parents react when they saw her? Her mother would scold her soundly for being so foolish. This was London not Devonshire, where she often wandered the hills alone. It was also night, and anyone could be out on these streets. Unsavoury characters, who would take advantage of a young lady alone. She shivered again, not with cold this time, but fear.

  At least she hadn’t encountered anyone, she told herself, trying to boost her courage. No one, not even the dregs of London, wanted to be out walking on a night like this. She would be safe, if she was careful. For a split second, she contemplated returning to the ball, but knew it was just as foolish a thought as setting out by herself in the first place. She couldn’t go back to the ball like this, looking as though Cleopatra had fallen into the Nile itself. If she had felt judged and excluded before it would be as nothing compared to how they would treat her now.

  She saw the bridge that the carriage had crossed earlier just ahead. She smiled grimly, remembering her excitement at going to the ball. How she and Diana had been chattering madly in the coach, while George had looked on indulgently. She had felt that she had finally turned a corner with what her mother had told her about Aunt Eliza and their reconciliation. She had felt she could take on the world, brimming with possibility.

  But she had forgotten that she was entering a viper’s nest. That if Miss Alicia Drake and her mother could stoop so low as to send one of their maids to find information about her, then they would not tolerate her entering their home and conversing with Lord Sebastian. She had known that the only reason they had invited her was because Miss Drake had been caught out and wanting to cover herself. She knew that. Yet she had still gone to that ball, full of expectation, not fully understanding the danger that she was in.

  She thought of Miss Drake as she walked slowly towards the bridge. Had she been intending to confront her at the ball all along? Or had she been driven mad by jealousy, watching the marquis talking and dancing with her, and spontaneously decided to do it? It hardly mattered anymore. The result was the same. Lord Sebastian would never want to have anything more to do with her.

  She gritted her teeth, which were chattering violently, wrapping her arms around herself in a futile effort to keep out the cold. Perhaps it had been for the best after all. She had wanted him to leave her alone, hadn’t she? She had been rude to him, refusing to receive him at her home, just so he would get the message that she couldn’t see him anymore. Now, finally, she had got what she wanted, and yet it tasted like ashes in her mouth.

  In the distance she heard a loud male voice singing a song. It was off key and rambling. She stiffened, looking around. Where had it come from? Then she saw a figure, stumbling towards her, from a side street. A man, dressed in rough trousers, shirt and waistcoat, with a cap on his head. He looked like a labourer.

  She held her breath. The man stopped suddenly, staring at her, scratching his head with an exaggerated motion. She frowned. What was wrong with him? He looked like he could barely walk.

  She froze, as he slowly approached her. Even from ten feet away she could discern the awful stink of combined sweat, tobacco and strong alcohol. The fumes were so strong she almost gagged. Now she knew what was wrong with him. He was utterly inebriated, almost falling down with drink.

  “Well, well, well,” slurred the man, in a rough Cockney accent. “And what do we have here? A young lady, walking by herself at night?” His eyes travelled over her. “You aint no tart, lovey. You look like a fine lady. I can always tell breeding when I see it. What’s the strange costume you’re wearing?”

  Charlotte stared at him, still rooted to the spot with fear.

  “No need to be scared, lovey,” drawled the man, sidling a little closer. “I aint a ruffian. Just a man out having a few drinks of the old blue ruin.”

  “The what?” said Charlotte, despite herself.

  The man cackled. “The blue ruin, lovey. The gin!” He stopped laughing almost as suddenly as he had started. His face screwed up, almost twisting into a rictus of pain. “They say the blue ruin makes you cry, so they do. They say the blue ruin makes you remember every damn sorrowful thing that’s ever happened to you in your life.” He sniffled dramatically. “And that’s been a lot, I can tell you.”

  To her horror, the man started crying. Loud, dramatic sobs. He stopped mid sob, hitting his head frantically with the palm of his left hand.