Desires of Lady Elise
A Regency Novella
Rachel Ann Smith
Desires of Lady Elise is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locals are entirely coincidental.
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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Excerpt from Secrets of Lady Lucy copyright © 2019 by Rachel Ann Smith
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First Edition July 2019
Edited by Victory Editing
Proofread by Gray Plume Editing
Cover design by Impluvium Studios
Copyright © 2019 by Rachel Ann Smith
ISBN: 978-1-951112-00-4
For my Dad whose poems inspired me to write
and
my Mom who loves to read
Acknowledgments
I have many to thank for the creation of my debut novella - Desires of Lady Elise.
My hubby, Darren, without his support and encouragement none of this would be possible.
My mother-in-law, Sandra who has read countless versions always spotting that odd turn of phrase or typo.
My children, Kaitlyn and Jacob for providing the most helpful names and ideas.
My friends - new and old who have helped me tackle imposter syndrome.
My critique partner the brilliant Whitney Jones and beta reader EJ Dean, without you this story would be a mess!
My editors Linda, Anne, and Crystalle at Victory Editing, and Milly at Gray Plume Editing, who helped polish the manuscript until it shined.
My cover designer, Erin at Impluvium Studios, who took a vague description and turned it into a beautiful piece of cover art.
Thank you all for helping a dream come true.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue
Also by Rachel Ann Smith
Read on for an Excerpt from Secrets of Lady Lucy
Book 1 of Agents of the Home Office Series
About the Author
Chapter One
I need another drink.
Harold Greenfield, the Earl of Thornston, tried to curtail his frustration. He had been enjoying a whiskey at his club when the Duke of Fairmont dared to disturb his peace.
Peering down his ducal nose, Fairmont declared, “It is time you returned to the fold.” Fairmont settled into the closest wingback chair and stretched out his long legs.
The fiery liquid that was about to go down Harold’s gullet spewed from his mouth. “Why would I do that?”
“I need your assistance.”
Squeezing the bridge of his nose, Harold considered the duke’s request. In the twenty years they had known each other, this was the first time Fairmont had come to him for help. It was an odd reversal of roles. This past decade, Fairmont had remained his only contact with polite society. Harold remained silent and consumed another drink or three. The man couldn’t be serious. Could he?
Fairmont rose to leave, and Harold uttered a sigh. The man was his best friend, after all. Following the duke out of the club, he stepped up into the lavish ducal coach.
Seated on the rear-facing bench, Harold glared at Fairmont. “There is no good reason for me to place myself at the mercy of marriage-minded mamas and the empty-headed young chits.”
“All you have to do is accompany me to a few engagements and assist me in choosing the next Duchess of Fairmont.” A smirk appeared on Fairmont’s features. “What do you know of Miss Glenda Heart?”
“Why do you subject me to this torture?” Harold stretched out a leg and kicked the duke in the ankle. “Why don’t you have one of your sisters help you?”
“Are you serious? Lily is lying in, and Elise is… well, she is Elise.”
Harold asked, “Wait, Lily got married? How was it you allowed her to marry before Elise?”
How long had he been away from the ton?
Ten years.
Initially, Harold had enjoyed his freedom on the outskirts of the beau monde. But recently he had grown bored. Perhaps it was time he too considered the idea of marriage. A shiver ran down his spine. No, he still had a while yet; he had only just turned thirty.
Fairmont looked out the carriage window. “Lily endured three Seasons before she threatened a scandal if I didn’t give my permission for Lord Crossworth to marry her. They were married two years past; you were invited.”
“But what about Elise? How is it she is not yet married?”
“She swears she is content.” Fairmont slapped his gloves against his thigh. “I’ve tripled her dowry, but no one worthy has offered for her.”
Unbelievable. Elise was a beauty. Maybe a little quiet, but she had inherited her mama’s kind and patient demeanor. How could it be that no one had offered for her?
“Elise must be… what… six and twenty now?” Harold, for one, didn’t believe it. “What do you mean, no one worthy?”
Fairmont turned to face him directly. Harold could feel the man’s eyes bore into him in the dimly lit carriage. “Oh, she has attracted every scoundrel, rake, and fortune hunter, but they all offered for her dowry. None of them knew one thing about Elise.”
Harold shook his head; he shouldn’t have had that last whiskey before venturing out with Fairmont. “What are you blithering on about? What would you have a blighter know before you deem him worthy of your sister?”
Fairmont cocked an eyebrow. “Lord Crossworth was able to answer all the questions on my test without any issue when he asked for Lily’s hand.”
“Test! What test?”
Fairmont shrugged. “It’s a list of questions I ask every suitor.”
Only Fairmont would come up with such an idiotic scheme. Harold had to ask, although he was certain he already knew the answer. “Do you have a test for the position of duchess?”
Blithely, Fairmont replied, “Of course.”
Harold blinked to clear his vision, who was the man sitting across from him and where were they headed? “What wretched event are you dragging me to this eve?”
“I was informed both the lovely Lady Beatrice and Miss Glenda Heart are to be at the Riverington Ball.”
“Are you mad?” The Riverington Ball. The exact location of his downfall a decade ago.
“I’m of sound mind.” Fairmont employed his ducal stare. “And you are going to assist me in obtaining the answers I seek.”
The coach finally rolled to a stop. What questions could Fairmont have on his blasted lists? How had none of the gentlemen come up to snuff, allowing Lady Elise to remain unwed? Had the years been kind to her? For the first time in ages, Harold found himself in front of one of the ton’s dwellings. Would Lady Elise recognize him?
Making his entrance with Fairmont would be a bad idea. His friend might be in the market for a wife, but Harold was not ready to give up his freedom or his mistress. Confirming his misgivings, every head in the room turned their way as they were announced. The ton appeared to have remained unchanged. Lords and ladies scrutinized his appearance and quickly dismissed him. Damn them all to hell. Harold no longer cared for their opinion, nor did he seek out their acceptance.
&
nbsp; “Will Elise be in attendance tonight?”
Fairmont narrowed his gaze. “Why?”
Harold tempered his reply. “I haven’t seen her in years. I’d like to become reacquainted.”
Gone was the relaxed Duke of Fairmont. The man had turned into his childhood friend, Benedict Brownstone, the older protective brother. “Stay away from her. She doesn’t need your sort hanging about her. It will only encourage the other rakes of our set to take notice of her.”
Fairmont’s warning cut. What exactly did he mean by his sort? “What? Am I not good enough for your sister?”
Harold might not have exactly lived the life of a saint, but neither had Fairmont. He was honest, never cheated at cards. He was not a pauper. His estates generated a sufficient—others might say lucrative—income, and while he might not have the wealth of a duke, he could easily support a wife. He wasn’t a dullard, despite only completing one year at Oxford. If he hadn’t been seduced by a professor’s wife and expelled, perhaps he might have graduated. In his defense, he hadn’t any idea who the woman was until it was too late.
When Fairmont failed to reply, Harold put it to him again. “Are you saying I’m not worthy of Elise’s hand?”
“Thornston, you are my best friend, and I know you better than anyone. Stay away from my sister. Find some other lady to pant after tonight.”
The warning sounded more like a challenge. Harold stood ruminating as couples whirled past him. He scanned the ballroom, looking for Elise. His curiosity demanded to find out why she had remained unwed.
Fairmont gave him a look that suggested he considered the matter concluded. He then shifted his attention to a dark-haired beauty who came into view across the room. “I’m off to claim my dance with Lady Beatrice. Try not to cause a scandal while I’m away.”
Scandal. Harold had learned his lesson a decade ago. Never follow a lady anywhere. They were all conniving harlots at the ready to trap a man into marriage. He wasn’t interested in following any of the ladies this evening. All he wanted to do was to locate Elise. Was she aware of her brother’s requirements? How would Harold fare should he attempt the answers?
Hidden behind the pillar, he searched the dance floor for familiar faces—one in particular. Surely, Elise would make an appearance. She had always enjoyed dancing. When he and Fairmont were learning the steps to the various sets, Elise often assisted by partnering with them. She never once complained when he had trod upon her delicate toes.
Bored at having spent most of the night avoiding the gazes of debutantes and their mamas, Harold made his way to the card room. He spotted Lord Kilman, one of the few he would consider a friend, engaged in a game with a lady. Interesting. Kilman was a skilled card player who was known to lose rarely. His lordship’s features were relaxed, but Harold caught the telltale tic in his jaw, which indicated only one thing: Kilman was about to be defeated.
Who was the woman? Her hair shone like silk, a string of pearls expertly woven through her dark brown curls.
Harold approached their table, curious to find out the identity of the woman. “Lord Kilman. Good evening.”
Kilman rapidly rose and stepped to the side to acknowledge Harold’s arrival and blocked his view of the mysterious lady. “Lord Thornston. It’s been an age since you were at a ball. What has you making an appearance tonight?”
“Fairmont dragged me here.” He attempted to peer around Kilman, but the man thwarted his view, leaning his hip against the table. If he were at one of his regular haunts, he would have just shoved Kilman out of the way, but this was no gaming hall. Relaxing his clenched fists, he plastered on a smile and waited for the right opportunity.
Kilman chuckled. “Fairmont? Where is the duke? Probably on the dance floor interviewing all the debutantes.”
His lordship’s shoulder shifted. Was he waving a hand behind his back? He was. Who was this mysterious woman Kilman was loath to introduce Harold to? To hell with being polite. “Who are you playing cards with?”
Kilman turned and smiled. The chair that the lady had occupied was now empty. “Oh, just an old friend.”
“Does your old friend have a name?”
“She certainly does, but I will not reveal her identity to you.”
Harold asked, “Why ever not?”
“Her brother would be livid to find out she was in the card room.”
He should have anticipated that every man in attendance would create a barrier, do whatever they must, to prevent him from becoming reacquainted with the ladies. “Who is her brother?”
“My lord, let’s get a drink, shall we? How many years has it been? We have a lot to catch up on.”
A drink was exactly what Harold needed. Anxiety and fear of rejection, feelings he had firmly held in check for years, were again manifesting. Only one woman had caused him to experience those feelings, and he suspected she was yet again the reason for this evening’s episode.
When Harold’s name was announced along with her brother’s, Lady Elise Brownstone had escaped to the card room. Hoping the distraction of a game of chance might dispel her inner thoughts and fears, she had sought the company of her trusted friend, Lord Kilman. Why had Harold appeared tonight alongside her brother? What madness was Benedict up to?
The ton had torn the man to shreds, and he had not appeared at an event in close to a decade. An irritating rush of excitement had flowed through her from head to toe at the mere thought of being in the same room as him. She was no longer an innocent girl of sixteen. She shouldn’t feel anything for the man. In fact, she should think of him as Lord Thornston, not Harold. They were no longer on intimate terms.
Elise crept back to the ballroom. Drat. Lord Tallow eyed her from across the room. Did he know she was the one who rescued Lady Esme from his evil plan? She weaved a path through the crowd to avoid him seeking refuge with her friends along the wall.
Lady Marjorie rushed to her side. “Thank goodness. You are here. Your brother has been by twice in search of you.”
Dorinda’s blue eyes glowed. “We each had to dance with him to keep him occupied.”
“I’m sure that was quite the hardship,” Elise replied. Her brother was the catch of the Season, young, handsome, and titled. There were times she wondered if they covered for her because it was what friends did or they were eager for the chance to spend time with her brother. “Well, I’ve returned. Did you see Lord Thornston arrive with Benedict?”
Dorinda answered, “Yes, it has set all the chaperones in a fine tizzy. They are guarding their charges with an extra keen eye this eve. Lord Thornston will not get away with ruining another innocent.”
Elise’s jaw clenched. Harold would never knowingly behave dishonorably. “He didn’t ruin Lady Clarissa. She remained a maiden and was no innocent party in the events that night ten years ago.”
Lady Marjorie asked, “Elise, how do you know? It is rumored he lured her out to the gardens.”
“Rumored. If my memory serves correctly, Lady Clarissa ended up with a proposal and marriage to Lord Dunnings. The poor man didn’t see her for the witch she is.”
Dorinda looked over Elise’s shoulder. “We could find out the truth of the matter.”
Elise asked, “How?”
“By asking Lord Thornston himself. He is approaching with your brother.”
Benedict stormed toward them. “Elise, where have you been?”
Elise plastered an innocent look on her face before turning to confront her very irate brother. “I’ve been here with my friends.”
Harold’s gaze volleyed between Elise and Benedict. With an all too knowing look, Harold interjected, “Fairmont. Will you be so kind as to introduce me to these fine ladies?”
“Lady Marjorie Wilcock, Miss Dorinda Arnet, may I present Harold Greenfield, the Earl of Thornston. Elise, you remember Lord Thornston.”
Yes, Lord Thornston, the rogue. Not Harold, the man she had been infatuated with from the age of sixteen until… recently. He was still as handsome as ever
. Golden hair. Hazel eyes. The irresistible dimple that only appeared when he sincerely smiled. Tall. Broad shouldered.
Elise finally found her voice, moderating it with the hope she didn’t sound like a besotted youth. “Lord Thornston. A pleasure to see you again. Are we to assume you, like my brother, are braving the soirée this evening to hunt the perfect wife?”
What utter nonsense to spew at a man she hadn’t seen in more than a decade. It made her sound like some desperate spinster, hopeful of being considered. Mortification rippled through her. She’d like nothing more than to hide under the refreshment table. But she’d never been a coward, and at six and twenty, it was too late to start now. Elise stood her ground. Lifting her chin, she met his stare.
“No, not on the hunt for myself. I’ve decided to aid your brother in his.”
Harold’s response shouldn’t have brought about a volatile concoction of emotions within her, but they did. A turbulent stream of pleasure, relief, and disappointment. But hearing he was not seeking a wife made the idea of seeing him among the ton bearable.
With her voice moderated to allow only their intimate group to hear, Lady Marjorie said, “How extremely kind of you, Lord Thornston. Does that mean we should expect to see you at more events in the future?” Lady Marjorie was never one to shy away from a topic, and it was the reason why Elise loved her so.
“Only those Fairmont deems appropriate.” Harold turned to face Elise and boldly winked.
The unexpected flutter in her belly set Elise on edge as the strains of a waltz floated over the din of the crowded room. Harold was an excellent dancer. He had always acted the gentleman, never acknowledging when she trod upon his toes, instead setting her at ease with one of his devilish smiles. His hold was firm but gentle. The skin on her arms tingled, just as it had when he had held her, both on the dance floor and in the privacy of her bedchamber, all those years ago. Glancing at couples as they made their way to form sets, her eyes misted. Elise blinked away her tears. If only it were as easy to banish the mix of hurt and anger that resided in her chest.
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