Dukes to Fall in Love With: A Historical Regency Romance Collection

by Bridget Barton

  Across one side of the front face of the building grew the thickest, darkest green ivy. Although it appeared to ramble beautifully, she could see that it had been neatly clipped around the large windows on all floors. She quickly assessed that a great deal of effort had gone into the appearance of natural ease.

  There was a stone canopy over the entrance, held up by pillars just as at Calder Hall. However, this was a much smaller affair despite being very grand and ornate.

  As they had driven down the long driveway to Wighton Hall, the hall itself had been visible throughout. The land was curiously flat for Cornwall, and the grounds of Wighton had a distinct lack of trees.

  There were trees at the outer edges, of course, but there was none of the sheltered winding approach and sudden appearance of the hall over the brow of the hill as there had been at Calder.

  There was something perhaps a little too neat about Wighton Hall and its grounds. The lawns were immaculate and symmetrical, and any little shrubs that grew around them were entirely equidistant.

  Either the gardener was a most particular man, or the master was.

  Whichever was the case, Georgina was not entirely sure she liked the effect. Her own home, and that of the Allencourt family, both displayed a certain natural quality with their winding pathways and displays of wildflowers.

  Even Calder Hall had peaks and valleys and a vast woodland that stretched out for miles in all directions. There was something altogether too orderly about Wighton Hall, something which made it very much less appealing, its grandness and stunning building notwithstanding.

  “This is a fine place indeed,” Emerson whispered into her ear as the carriage finally drew up at the front of Wighton Hall. “It is very tidy, though, is it not?”

  Georgina was amazed that Emerson could still be impressed by such things, given that he was the master of all he surveyed at Calder, so large and fine an estate that there could not be one in all of Cornwall or Devonshire to match it. But perhaps that was simply the product of not truly believing himself to be the master in his own home.

  “A little too tidy for my taste, I think,” she replied and laughed. “Although coming from a small estate like Ashdown Manor, I am not in a position to judge.”

  “I think I would prefer Ashdown,” Emerson said and then straightened up as a very smart-looking middle-aged man marched towards them.

  He was undoubtedly Oscar Montgomery, the Earl of Wighton, burst forth from his home and ready to meet them.

  “I trust you had a good journey, Your Grace?” Lord Wighton said a little uncertainly as he looked from Emerson to Jeremy and back again.

  Georgina almost laughed, immediately realizing that the poor man had no idea which of the two men he ought to be addressing first. They were both dressed very well and quite sensibly for their journey, and there was little to choose between them. They were both young, both extraordinarily handsome, and both very bright looking men.

  “It was a very easy journey indeed, Lord Wighton,” Emerson said hastily to put their host out of his misery. “But I think fine weather always makes the difference, does it not?”

  The Earl seemed to visibly relax as he moved to stand in front of the man he now knew was the Duke of Calder.

  “What a very great honour it is to meet you, Your Grace,” he said and bowed deeply.

  “And I am very pleased to meet you, my dear fellow. And please allow me to say how very kind of you to extend my friends and me such a warm invitation,” Emerson spoke genuinely and also bowed deeply. “May I introduce you to the rest of my party?”

  “Certainly, Your Grace. Certainly.” The Earl of Wighton was enthusiastic in the style of a man who was undoubtedly a sycophant.

  Whilst Georgina did not take an immediate dislike to him, she did not think that she would particularly warm to him either. She much preferred people to be at their ease and to be who they were on the inside instead of who they were on the outside, and she quickly judged Lord Wighton to fall into the latter category.

  No doubt he would tell the tale for many years to come of how the Duke of Calder had sought him out most particularly, as keen as mustard to spend a few days at the wonderful Wighton Hall with so fine a host.

  “This is my dear friend, Miss Georgina Jeffries. I mentioned her in my letter.” Emerson smiled and nodded towards Georgina.

  “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Jeffries, and I am certain that my aunt will be pleased to meet you. I understand that your own grandmother passed, and I should like to extend my deepest condolences.” He seemed to fit an awful lot into one sentence, and Georgina was relieved when he finally put it all to an end with another deep bow.

  “How very kind of you, My Lord,” she said and saw how he seemed almost to glow under the formality of her address. “And I am very pleased to finally meet you.”

  “And this is Miss Fleur Allencourt, Miss Jeffries’ cousin.”

  “How nice to meet you, Miss Allencourt, you are very welcome here at Wighton Hall.” He bowed again, and Georgina amused herself by imagining the stiff back he would suffer later in the day.

  “And Miss Allencourt’s brother, and my dear friend, Mr Jeremy Allencourt,” Emerson said, introducing the male in the party at the very end, as was customary.

  For a moment, Georgina found her mind wandering. The manners which he seemed to have taken on as second nature were things that the young Samuel White would not only have forgotten in an instant but would probably have laughed at.

  How much Emerson Lockhart had had to learn about the world he now inhabited, and what a strain it must have been for a boy of eleven to have to work so hard to transform himself entirely. Georgina could not help wondering if it was tiring even now. Did he have to think about everything he did and said for fear of reverting to the servant he had once been or had he simply worked so hard at it that he did not have to try anymore?

  Whichever was the case, Georgina thought his manner entirely natural.

  “Mr Allencourt,” the Earl said brightly and bowed once again. “Any friend of the Duke is, of course, a friend of mine and welcome anytime.”

  Georgina realized that she had bitten her tongue so many times throughout the simple introductions that it was likely going to be very sore later on. Worse still, she imagined she recognized something of that same humour in Jeremy’s eyes, and she fervently hoped that he was going to behave himself.

  She knew, of course, that he was bright enough to give nothing away. Whilst he had not asked a single question of the Duke or even his own sister, it was clear to them all that Jeremy was very aware that there were things to be known.

  In the end, Emerson had explained the whole thing out to him from beginning to finish. Georgina and Fleur sat in stunned silence, both of them expecting that the Duke would give as brief an explanation as possible.

  Georgina had imagined that Emerson would simply say that there was some suggestion that his mother was not quite who he thought she was, entirely missing out the deepest secret of all, that he had once been a servant in Georgina’s home.

  But he had not missed anything out at all, giving his full and complete trust to the young man he hardly knew at all. And yet she could not see it as foolhardy, for as she watched Jeremy’s face, he did not show any sign of surprise or disapproval or even the glee of gossip learned. He sat there nodding and smiling quite amiably.

  He did not probe or ask any further questions; he merely thanked the Duke for his honesty and assured him of his future discretion. It was clear that Fleur was inordinately proud of her brother, and Georgina had seen her surreptitiously dab at a little emotional tear that she thought nobody else had seen.

  When Jeremy had declared himself to be at the Duke’s disposal if there were anything he should need in his quest for the truth, Fleur had been forced to dab at a second tear.

  From that moment on, Emerson and Jeremy had seemed to get on famously. Emerson had given his account before the carriage had even crossed the cou
nty boundary from Devonshire, very likely because he wanted to ease any little tensions before they got going.

  Jeremy did not mention it again, and the two men fell to talking about this and that and seemed to be most at ease in one another’s company.

  Emerson seemed greatly brightened by his new allegiance, and Georgina realized that it was likely the first time he had spoken to a man of his own age without the need for constant concern that he might give himself away. Instead of perpetual vigilance, Emerson had been able to settle into conversation with his new acquaintance without fear.

  It warmed Georgina to see it, and she was suddenly glad that her cousin had been invited along, even when she had thought it a mistake in the beginning.

  And, as the journey continued, and the two men talked of fencing and riding, school and university, she realized just how much had been taken from Emerson on the night he had been spirited away from Ashdown Manor. He truly had been denied the right to a real friend.

  “Now then, tea is about to be served in the drawing room if that will suit you. I thought you might be in the mood for some refreshment after your long journey. In the meantime, I shall have my staff deliver your luggage to your rooms where you might care to retire for a while after we have taken tea. How does that sound?” Lord Wighton was smiling brightly, clearly relishing his role of host on that occasion.

  “I think that sounds like the very thing, my dear fellow,” Emerson said and clapped a hand on the Earl’s shoulder as the two of them turned to walk side-by-side into the great hall.

  The remainder of the Earl’s family was waiting in the drawing room, although Georgina instantly noted that Beatrice was certainly not there. The only woman in the room was in her middle forties and clearly the current Countess of Wighton.

  And there were two young men, the Earl’s sons. The eldest was also named Oscar, and he looked to Georgina to be around five-and-twenty years. The younger of the brothers had a very dissatisfied look, almost as if he was feeling the slight of being born second and missing out on his father’s title. His name was Branton, and he looked as if he could not have cared less that a Duke of the Realm was gracing his father’s drawing room.

  In truth, Georgina could not say for certain that she blamed him. At least, at any rate, he was not in any way sycophantic. No doubt he was permanently disgruntled, and it showed, but did she not prefer a person to be who they were on the inside? She was sure that Branton Montgomery was certainly that.

  Georgina was surprised to find that Emerson held up the lion’s share of the conversation that afternoon, easily putting his hosts at their ease. It was a far cry from the uncertain young man she had seen greeting his guests at the garden party so many weeks before.

  But she thought that it was perhaps not simply a matter that the idea of finding out his true origins had given him confidence. She could not help thinking that it was finally having people in his life with whom he could be entirely honest. And it was not just Georgina anymore, but Fleur and Jeremy.

  “Is your aunt not to join us today, My Lord?” Georgina said when she had the opportunity to insert herself into the conversation.

  “I am afraid that she keeps very much to her bed these days, Miss Jeffries,” Lord Wighton said solemnly. “Her health is certainly not what it was.”

  “I am very sorry to hear that,” Georgina said truthfully, although more for her own purposes.

  All she wanted was to have the truth from the old woman, if there was any to be had, and not allow the woman’s frailty and her own feelings of guilt stand in the way.

  “And like many people who have lived to such a great age, Miss Jeffries, I afraid that my aunt’s mind is not quite what it was,” he said with a sudden aspect of shame, almost as if he were admitting that his aunt had leprosy. “There is a tendency for her mind to wander, I am sad to say, and she does spend much of her time dwelling in the past. Sometimes she is so intent upon the past that it is almost as if it is happening at the moment. But I am sure you will forgive her that particular frailty, will you not?”

  “There is nothing to forgive, My Lord,” Georgina said quietly. “It is a tremendous achievement to live to such a great age, and we must all make the allowances that we hope would be made for ourselves in years to come. I am still greatly looking forward to meeting her, My Lord.”

  “Then you should do just that, my dear,” he said in a much heartier fashion now that he realized his guests were not shocked by the idea of a wandering mind in an elderly lady. “Perhaps tomorrow morning? My aunt is always in a much more solid frame of mind in the mornings than she is in the evenings.”

  “Then I shall look forward to it, Lord Wighton.”

  Chapter 24

  Once again, Georgina had slept fitfully. It was a mixture of causes, not least of them being that she never truly slept well in a strange place on the first night. Her room at Wighton Hall was large and very well appointed, but the ceilings were extraordinarily high and the windows so tall that it gave her the most peculiar feeling.

  The room did not feel at all cozy or welcoming, for all its fine furniture and tasteful draperies.

  And the moon was not at all bright that night, giving no extra glow to the darkness. At one point, she had felt so disquieted that she had almost decided to keep her oil lamp burning through until morning.

  But not only did she realize that was ridiculous, she also wondered if there was truly enough oil in the lamp to last so many hours. And yet, the moment she had turned down the lamp and plunged the room into darkness, Georgina had regretted it.

  She immediately began to run over Great Aunt Belle’s words, almost frightening herself with them.

  She had come to wish that Mirabelle Allencourt really was a fanciful and dramatic sort of woman, for at least she could safely dismiss not only what her aunt said, but the effect it seemed to be having on her.

  As she lay in the darkness, Georgina could not help wishing that the week was over, that they were already in the Duke’s carriage and making their pleasant and rambling journey back to Devonshire.

  In truth, if her first meeting with Beatrice Ellington the next day could at least be over, then that would be something.

  Feeling extraordinarily washed out the following morning, Georgina made a fine effort at breakfast. She chattered happily and forced down much more food than she had the stomach for. She did not yet know what time she was due to meet her grandmother’s old friend and knew that she would not settle until that meeting was finally done.

  In the end, it was almost eleven o’clock before the Countess of Wighton escorted her to the large bedroom on the first floor that had apparently been almost home to the dowager for many years.

  “Forgive me for saying so, Miss Jeffries, but you might not necessarily find my husband’s aunt the most pleasant of company,” Lady Wighton said when they were alone. “It is not simply age which sours her, I am afraid. I rather fear that her personality is just of that construction.”

  “You need not worry, My Lady, for my grandmother was very much the same. I daresay it was their dispositions which drew them together in the first place when they were girls in Devonshire.”

  “You are very understanding, Miss Jeffries, and I thank you for it. But might I advise you to spend only a few minutes with her? I tend to find that a few minutes can usually be managed without receiving any sort of insult or other comment which might offend.”

  “Oh yes, of course.”

  “That is not to say that you cannot visit her again, for you may visit her every day this week if you choose.”

  “Then I shall follow your advice, Lady Wighton.”

  “I shall take you in now and introduce you, and then I shall leave you alone. Do come out whenever you are ready, and I will see to it that there is tea ready and waiting for you in the drawing room.”

  Georgina nodded mutely, her palms suddenly perspiring and her heart beating in a way that she could feel. She knew that she was afraid to meet Beatrice Ell
ington finally, even though she was sure that so elderly a lady could do her no harm. And yet there was something about the idea of meeting a woman so cold that she cared nothing for the heartbreak of her own dear brother that unsettled her greatly. If she could treat her brother in that way, how much easier had she found it over the years to be so casually cruel to others around her?

  “Aunt Beatrice?” Lady Wighton called out tentatively as she slowly opened the door inward. “Aunt Beatrice, I have a visitor for you.”

  “Is it her? Is it Elizabeth’s girl?” came a surprisingly hearty voice.

  The voice was so hearty, in fact, that when Georgina finally laid eyes on the shrunken, wizened body in the enormous bed, she almost gasped.