Lessons for His Bride (Regency Matchmaker Book 3)

by Celeste Jones

  Suddenly the kitchen door opened and a blur came rushing toward him, his wife jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist, planting kisses all over his face. “Lucas, thank the stars you are home. I have been ever so worried about you,” she said between kisses. “Hurry inside. You are just in time for breakfast.”

  Lucas quickly recovered from the surprise—and pleasure—of his wife’s enthusiastic welcome and enveloped her in his arms, returning her kisses fervently. “I do have a hunger, wife, but not for breakfast.”

  “Lucas!” his wife said with a blush and a giggle, “you need some breakfast in order to keep up your strength.”

  “Oh? And you think my stamina has been lacking?” He set her on the ground and gave her bottom a swat.

  Clutching his hand, Seraphina practically dragged him toward the house. “You have been caring for everyone else, now it is time for me to attend to you. But not until you have taken some nourishment.”

  “What happened to the sweet submissive wife I left here?”

  “She has missed you desperately, Doctor.”

  They reached the door to the house and Seraphina hurried him inside. Mr. and Mrs. Boyd hovered close by, he knew they were concerned about him and he was grateful to be able to leave Seraphina in their capable hands while he was gone.

  As they entered the breakfast room, Lucas realized he was, in fact, famished. The aromas coming from the serving platters were intoxicating. He filled his plate and he and his wife sat to enjoy a meal together. It felt as though it had been weeks since they had done so, though in actuality it had been but a couple of days. Long and stressful days.

  “Is the fever contained, Lucas? How bad is it?”

  Much as he wished to spare her the horrific details of the situation, he remembered their pledge to be honest. Besides, he needed to impress upon her the seriousness of the outbreak in their community.

  “It is extremely bad, my dear. The worst I have ever seen.” He paused, fighting against the images of suffering and death which passed through his mind.

  Seraphina reached over and clasped his hand. “I am sorry, my dear husband. I am sure you have done all you can. Now it is time for you to rest and allow me to care for you before you go back out. I -I hate to think of what I would do if you took ill, my darling.” The fingers gripping his quivered and he saw tears shimmering in her eyes.

  He cupped her cheek with his hand and gave her a steady look. “I would also hate for anything to happen to you, my darling.” He stroked his thumb along her jawline. There was more he wished to say, but Mr. Boyd arrived with the morning’s paper. Normally he would have waited until after breakfast to open the paper, but there was something in particular he hoped to find in today’s edition.

  Ah, there it was. On page seven. He folded the paper back and handed it to his wife, pointing with pleasure to a small notice. He watched as she read, surprise and pleasure washing over her face.

  When she finished reading, she paused as if to let it all sink in, then jumped from her seat and nearly toppled him from his chair with hugs and kisses. “Lucas Spencer, you are the most outstanding man on the entire earth. I love you so much!”

  He hugged her close. “I love you too, my sweet Seraphina,” he whispered in her ear.

  The clatter attracted the attention of Mr. Boyd who poked his head into the room. “Doctor? Is everything all right?”

  Lucas had to chuckle. After years of working for a staid bachelor, the Boyds were now adjusting to the addition of the lively Seraphina and a much less staid Lucas. “All is well, Boyd, thank you.”

  Seraphina jumped back and took up the newspaper, carrying it over to show the servant. “Look, Mr. Boyd!” She waved the paper in front of him, making it impossible for him to read.

  “Perhaps you ought to read it to him, Seraphina.”

  “Yes, an excellent idea.” Seraphina stilled and held the newspaper between her hands. “Notice, On Tuesday the Sixth, Doctor Lucas Spencer married Seraphina Moon. The couple to reside at Cherry Grove Manor, Briar Glen.”

  “How lovely,” Mr. Boyd said and then excused himself.

  Seraphina turned back to Lucas, her face full of happiness. “Oh, Lucas, thank you, thank you.”

  “After our discussion about your background, I wanted to show the world I was proud to have you as my wife. Have I succeeded?”

  “More than I ever dreamed possible.”

  “I believe it is time for us to adjourn to our bedchamber, you have promised to care for me, have you not?”

  “Yes, absolutely. I would hate to go back on my word.”

  Despite his fatigue, Lucas scooped Seraphina up in his arms and strode into the hallway en route to the staircase. “I have missed you, my sweet little wife,” he whispered in her ear.

  She responded with a quick inhalation of breath followed by a mischievous smile. “The longing has been nearly unbearable,” she said, her voice husky.

  He paused to give her a meaningful look. “You have not been breaking any rules, have you? No taking matters into your own hands.”

  “Oh, no, Lucas. I was tempted because I missed you so and I was very anxious, but I did not touch myself.”

  “And why did you not do so?”

  “Because my cunny belongs to you,” she said in a breathy voice that filled him with heated longing.

  As they started up the staircase an insistent pounding on the front door commenced. The sudden noise caused Seraphina to stiffen in his arms. He raised his foot to continue their ascent, but the rapping continued. With a sigh, he turned and moved toward the door.

  “Lucas, please. Must you?” Seraphina seemed to wilt in his arms, her disappointment palpable.

  “Someone might need my help,” he said, for the first time ever regretting his decision to become a physician.

  “But,” Seraphina pouted, “what about my needs?”

  He stared down at her wishing for nothing more than to make passionate love to her then and there. However, duty won out. He set her on her feet and opened the door.

  “Mrs. Fisk,” he said when he saw the imposing personage standing on his stoop. “What brings you here? Is someone ill at your house?” Something was off. If there was indeed an illness at the Fisk home, a servant and not Mrs. Fisk would have been sent to contact the doctor—a task well beneath the lady of the house.

  “No, no one at my house is ill. We are not afflicted and neither are any of our neighbors. Yet, I understand you have recommended the ball at the assembly hall be cancelled. Have you any idea the panic, not to mention inconvenience, you have created?”

  Lucas, ever mindful of the sway Mrs. Fisk held over the community, and therefore most of his patients, worked to give a firm, but polite response. “Many people in the area are seriously ill. Deathly ill, if I may be frank. In order to stop the spread of germs, I have recommended to the village elders that the ball be postponed. At this time, we must all be careful not to allow the disease to spread any further. I believe I am on the path to having it contained and hopefully eliminated soon. A gathering where many different people will be in close proximity is the last thing we need at this time.”

  Mrs. Fisk, still standing on the doorstep, gasped and pulled herself up to her full height. “Well, I have never in all my years heard something so outrageous. You are going to let a few people with the sniffles deprive the rest of the village of an evening’s entertainment.”

  “That is my recommendation, Mrs. Fisk. I do not have the authority to cancel the event, but I assure you, if I did have the power to do so, I would. For the good of everyone. Including you.”

  Fire flashed in Mrs. Fisk’s eyes and her face turned red. Without saying another word, she turned and walked away.

  15

  The Parlor of Mrs. Hartpence’s House of Ill Repute

  London

  He would be put off no longer. Lord Alfred Ross strode up the steps of Mrs. Hartpence’s House, his prize—Seraphina Moon—awaited him and like it or not, she was hi
s. And would be for as long as he cared to keep her.

  He had hardly been able to think of anything but her sweet face and lithe virginal body for weeks. He had purposely stayed away from this location because he had promised Mrs. Hartpence he would wait to demand the girl whom he had paid for months prior. The trip to France seemed like a good idea, but the temptations of Paris had only heightened his need for Seraphina. He had seen her one evening when he had visited the pleasure house to spend time with Alice, as had been his habit for the past several months. He had even given serious thought to setting Alice up with an apartment as his private property, but when he caught a glimpse of the winsome Seraphina scurrying out of the sitting room as soon as he had entered the house he had been captivated by her innocent beauty.

  He learned she had been raised at the house of ill repute after her mother, one of Mrs. Hartpence’s most popular, had died. When he was told Mrs. Hartpence had been saving her for “just the right gentleman” his loins had heated with longing. After a frank discussion with Mrs. Hartpence and the exchange of a large quantity of money, the girl was promised to him.

  He had continued to call upon the brothel, though instead of paying to spend time with Alice, his former favorite, he used that time to sit with Seraphina, under the watchful eye of Mrs. Hartpence.

  “Come, Seraphina, will you not join me on the sofa?” he had asked patting the upholstered seat next to him, and the girl, with encouragement from Mrs. Hartpence had complied. The sweet smell of her innocent body intoxicated him.

  After the first visit he had demanded Mrs. Hartpence allow him to take the girl then and there. She had stood firm. He had visited again a week later, making the same demand and even offering more money, but for some unknown reason Mrs. Hartpence, who had always been able to be bought, had stood firm. They had agreed—he quite reluctantly—to wait until this date for him to take the girl away for himself. In order to minimize temptation, he sailed across the English Channel.

  Sleep had eluded him for days and he had even lost at several games of cards, his mind was so preoccupied with the young lady who would soon be his, and his alone.

  He was escorted to the parlor where he waited for Mrs. Hartpence. He fought his impatience. As the girl’s guardian, Mrs. Hartpence had the right to make arrangements for her. Much as he wished to simply find the girl and abscond with her, even he had some standards and knew such an act would be criminal.

  Though who would bring the law against a lord on behalf of an orphaned daughter of a whore, he had no idea.

  Regardless, he liked to tell himself he had some scruples.

  Alice, his former favorite, brought him a glass of brandy and looked at him in a way which he recognized. He felt a slight pang for her, but she was nothing to his Seraphina. “I have missed you, my lord,” she said, in case he had not understood the meaning of her glances.

  “You are looking well, Alice,” he said, hoping to appease her. He did not wish to have a scene. All he needed was for Seraphina to be brought to him and the two of them would be on their way. “Do you know how soon I might expect Mrs. Hartpence?”

  “I will go and inquire after her,” Alice said, clearly disappointed by his indifference.

  Only Seraphina would do for him.

  And the things he planned to do to her... he shifted in his seat to accommodate the swell of his groin.

  “Good afternoon, Lord Ross.” Mrs. Hartpence entered the room, alone.

  He stood, for despite her profession, he was, after all, a gentleman. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Hartpence. I am here, as we agreed, to take possession of Seraphina.”

  “Yes, so I see. Shall we have a bit of tea?” She reached for the bell to order refreshments, but he stopped her.

  “No, I do not wish to have tea. I am here for the girl. She is bought and paid for and I have waited until this date as you insisted. Now, I demand you produce her and allow us to be on our way.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sheath of papers. “We have a contract!”

  “As it turns out, Lord Ross, Seraphina was not so eager to become your ‘possession’. She has run away.”

  “Run away? How is that possible? A girl such as she cannot survive on the streets. When did this happen?”

  “Several weeks ago. I have had people looking all over for her, but she has vanished. I have your money to return to you.” She held out a handful of bills to him.

  “Several weeks? Why did I not learn of this sooner?” He stood, pacing the room, anger coursing through him. His. Seraphina was meant to be his and he would have her. Must have her.

  “I had hoped to recover her by now and you would be none the wiser.” Mrs. Hartpence glanced briefly away as she spoke.

  “Liar! You are lying. Where is she?” He stepped toward her, his fingers itching to clamp around her neck and squeeze until she confessed the truth.

  “How dare you call me a liar! Get out of my house.”

  “I dare to call you a liar because it is true.” He gave into his urge and placed his hands on either side of her throat. “Now, tell me where she is.”

  “I do not know.”

  His fingers pressed against her flesh and he saw fear flicker through her eyes. “This is the last time I am going to ask you. Where is Seraphina?”

  Mrs. Hartpence’s gaze held his for a moment and then she sighed. “A man arrived here. He claimed to have promised her father to look after the girl.”

  “Her father? I thought she was an orphan! What sort of tricks are you playing?”

  “When her mother died, as far as I was concerned, she was an orphan. No one knew her father’s name and her mother had not given any indication. I was as shocked as you when Colonel St. Clair arrived demanding the girl.”

  “A colonel?”

  “Yes, apparently the soldier had induced the Colonel to agree to take on the care of the girl after his death. Colonel St. Clair actually did as he had promised.”

  “And you let him take Seraphina? Even after our agreement?”

  “If the girl’s father had assigned him as her guardian, I was in no position to argue the point.”

  Lord Ross studied her for a moment, his hands still snug around her throat. “He paid you.”

  “Yes, I mentioned the expenses which I had incurred in caring for her over the years and he agreed I was entitled to compensation.”

  “You sold her to him? What sort of reprobate are you?”

  “I beg your pardon, but you wanted to buy her yourself. And for a much less honorable purpose. You have a nerve. Now, I have told you all I know and have refunded your money. Get your hands off me and never darken my door again.”

  Angered beyond all measure, Lord Ross had exited the building, refunded money in hand, and ordered his driver to take him to his club. He was in dire need of libation and a few moments to gather his thoughts.

  His hands had shaken as he removed them from around Mrs. Hartpence’s throat. A rage unlike any he had ever felt overcame his body and for a moment he considered the pleasure it would give him to squeeze the life from her, but he refrained. Part of him regretted that decision.

  Lord Ross was not a man accustomed to being denied what he wanted. And he wanted Seraphina more than anything he had ever wanted in his entire decadent life.

  He sat in a deep leather chair sipping on his second glass of whiskey. The edge of his rage was waning, but only slightly.

  Who had taken his Seraphina? Colonel St. Clair. Well, he intended to get her back. This was a minor setback. He would not be denied.

  Taking his drink in hand, he stood and approached a group of members engaged in a game of cards. “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he said, working to contain his anger and appear nonchalant. “Might any of you be familiar with a gentleman named Colonel St. Clair?”

  The group turned to look at him. “What causes your curiosity about him?” one of the men asked.

  Thinking quickly, Lord Ross replied, “A relative of mine served under him and I wished to convey
my gratitude to him for kindnesses which he had done for said relative.”

  Satisfied, the same gentleman responded, “Colonel William St. Clair lives down the street from me. I would be glad to make the introduction.”

  “Thank you,” Lord Ross said, excitement rising within him, though he did not wish to have company on this excursion, “but I hate to trouble you. If you could simply give me the address, I would be deeply in your debt.”

  The other gentleman appeared relieved at not being required to abandon his hand of cards and quickly jotted the address on a piece of paper and handed it to Lord Ross.

  Striving to maintain a gentlemanly pace, Lord Ross exited the club and gave the address to his driver.

  Inside his carriage, Lord Ross strove to control his fierce temper. It would not do to arrive at the doorstep of an army Colonel full of rancor. Best to keep his wits about him in order to ascertain the whereabouts of Seraphina, the girl who was promised to him. He wondered if he dared to mention the arrangement he had with Mrs. Hartpence to see if the Colonel would be inclined to honor it. Perhaps he was tired of the burden of a young woman who had been thrust into his care.

  He simply seethed with rage as the carriage moved through the streets of London. How dare she? How dare any of them deign to interfere with his plans. Not just interfere but to disobey him intentionally. Seraphina knew his plans for her and furthermore she was well aware of the document he and Mrs. Hartpence had signed. How dare she leave him? After all he had done for her. After all the money he had paid and the plans he had for her. He already had an apartment set up for her, something far better and more elegant than the accommodations Mrs. Hartpence had allocated to her, of that he was certain. Ungrateful wench. How could she walk away from that, from him?

  Reaching beneath the seat into the picnic hamper which his valet had prepared for the journey which Lord Ross and Seraphina would make, he pulled out a bottle of champagne. He had intended to use it to celebrate with Seraphina, but now he would use it to calm his nerves.