Enchanted by a Lady's Talent: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Abigail Agar

  “How so? What have you done?” James asked.

  “I have no idea. That is the problem. Apparently, I have upset Miss Blackwell, but I do not know how. I do not know what I have done to hurt her,” he said.

  “Miss Blackwell? What do you mean? What happened?” James asked.

  “Well, she was supposed to come around today. I finished everything I needed to do at the shop yesterday specifically so that I would have more than enough time to spend with her in my study, putting the final touches on the book,” he explained.

  “You still have work to do?” James asked in surprise.

  Doyle shrugged.

  “Well, no. The book has been sent to print, actually, but I thought we could discuss all of the plans for the event, although I am still very excited to use all of that as an opportunity to surprise her…” Doyle said before trailing off.

  He would no longer have the wonderful opportunity of surprising her. He had been so eager to have that moment, the moment when he revealed to her that this had all been for her. And yet, if she were unwilling to speak with him, maybe she would not attend.

  No, that was nonsense. Of course she would attend! This was her book as well. She would come for that.

  “Anyway, all of that aside,” Doyle said, continuing, “I do not know what is wrong with her. We still had a plan to meet today, but she is now refusing to speak with me.”

  “Did she say as such?” James asked.

  “No, not at all. She said nothing. She simply grew silent and left me without a word. But, alas, I wrote to her dear friend, Miss White, and she wrote me a letter in reply,” he said, pulling it out of his pocket and handing the letter to James.

  James read the letter, his face continually wincing, making Doyle even more upset. He didn’t want to think that the letter was as bad as he had interpreted it to be. A small part of him had hoped that James would say it was nothing and everything would be fine.

  But that was clearly not the case. Whatever had happened, it was terrible. There really was a problem at hand and it was something which Doyle would not easily be able to solve.

  “This is not good, Doyle,” James said.

  “I know that. I can tell that things must be very bad, but I still do not know why. Is there any chance you may be able to find out from some of the men in business with whom you work?” Doyle asked.

  James shrugged.

  “What am I to ask them? They know nothing about young women and their troubles,” James said.

  “I know that, but they do know about problems within society. Maybe they have heard if her mother and father are upset or if anything has happened? Maybe they have even publicly shamed me? Surely there is something you are able to learn,” he said.

  James was dubious but he put a hand on Doyle’s shoulder.

  “I shall make every effort to find out the truth, but in the meantime, I urge you to rest. Take some time and come to terms with all that has happened. You know, even if all there is to it is the fact that Miss Blackwell does not love you, at least it is all over. At least you will be able to move on, knowing that you have loved once and may love yet again,” James said.

  The words were meant to be comforting, but they were not. Instead, all they did was make Doyle even more anxious.

  Now, he had to think about the future. He didn’t want to think about that, but James had just placed it before him. Now, he was supposed to think about falling in love again.

  That was nonsensical. He could not love again, not when the woman that he loved so deeply was furious with him and he did not know why. Even if he could never make things right with her, he had to at least know what had led to this.

  The fact that Miss White had written with such confidence against taking any interest in Miss Blackwell, all stank of conspiracy to him.

  There was no reason that anyone should be so angry or dislike him so much. There had to be something behind it.

  Doyle pushed past thinking about that. He decided to get home as quickly as he could. Maybe he would even write to Miss White again, asking her to clarify what was going on and what he had done to upset Miss Blackwell?

  He did not expect an answer, but at the very least, she would see that he cared. She would see that he was eager to know the truth and that he was curious enough about her sadness that he would search for answers.

  Doyle wanted to prove that he could really make things right, even if he didn’t know what was wrong. He was ready to apologise, even if he didn’t know what for. But by the time he reached his home, Doyle was simply miserable. He knew that there was no point in trying to reach out to the young ladies.

  Instead, he made himself a cup of tea, sat in his taupe, leather chair, and opened a book on which he could not focus. Instead, he felt sorry for himself. One day, he hoped, things would be better. One day, all would be right.

  Chapter 29

  Bitter and angry, Pippa could do nothing but sit and stew.

  She was still furious and just wanted to have some time to herself. The last thing she wanted was to have to face whichever baron her mother and father placed before her that evening.

  In the end, it was Lord Barnaby she had to see again.

  She had believed that things had finished between the two of them. However, there he was, waiting to enjoy dinner with her family.

  “Pippa, you must be quick about it. He is already in the parlour. What are you doing dawdling out here?” Pippa’s mother asked as she found Pippa sitting on the staircase, out of the way where she would not easily be seen.

  But she had been caught. All her efforts were wasted, and her mother had found her and now she had no choice but to go and join everyone for dinner. She would have to see that awful man, the baron she was constantly forced to interact with.

  “Forgive me, Mother. I am not feeling well, and I simply needed a moment before going to join you all,” she said.

  “Nonsense! You should not be so foolish, Pippa. Come and sit down there. You are not ill, and I shall not have you stalling like this. Lord Barnaby has come here that he might see you. Now, go and see him in return,” her mother ordered.

  Pippa did as she was told, entering the parlour with a crooked smile on her face, trying to be happy when her heart was broken.

  “Ah, there is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life. Come, Miss Blackwell. Is it not time for you to greet the most beautiful man you have seen in all of yours?” he asked, a pitiful attempt at charm that came across as mockingly arrogant.

  “Nice to see you, Lord Barnaby,” she said, curtsying.

  “Ah, yes, well, you do look lovely. And I am so glad that we can have dinner together again. Let me entertain you all with a brief story. It is about a time in which I was unsure whether I might actually attend a dinner hosted by Lord Frederick Rainsborough. As I am sure you know, he is one of the advisors to the King, as well as being a distant cousin. Oh, Lord Frederick was a rather comedic man and he humbled me by the invitation!” Lord Barnaby said.

  From there, he launched into some sort of speech where he spoke about all the men whom he had interacted alongside, and it was more infuriating information about himself with every breath. None of it mattered to Pippa in the slightest.

  She had a flash in her mind of lovely, blue eyes. The eyes of Mr. Brooks.

  Again, she felt the stab of betrayal when she thought about him. She had cared for him so deeply, and truly had come to believe that he cared for her. But that stupid, ridiculous, hateful little poster. It had been all she needed to see proof that he had been dishonest with her.

  Mr. Brooks had used her. He had forced her into a position where she was simply hiding in the background, hoping for a scrap of appreciation. It was nonsense.

  “My dear…” her mother said quietly and calmly, taking Pippa’s hand in her own.

  Pippa looked over at her mother in surprise, as if she only just realised she was even in the room to begin with.

  “Hmm?” she asked.

/>   Her mother glanced down and so did Pippa. She saw that her hands were shaking. She needed to steady herself, to get rid of all her anger. Although she was truly furious, there was no room for that fury.

  “Anyway, it was then that I learned that I had also been invited to a party at the home of the King’s first cousin, Lord Melling,” Lord Barnaby said, continuing the brag.

  He drove Pippa crazy. She had no desire to be anywhere near him, let alone to pretend that she was interested. But he was incredibly boring. She realized that her mother and father were going to make her marry him no matter how much she didn’t want to. She could fight and try to convince them otherwise, but the handsome landowner from the ball was not getting into contact with her and had paid a call on her mother and father.

  She certainly could not tell them that that man was actually Doyle Brooks, the owner of the book shop. She could not tell them that he was just a simple man. She could not tell them that she loved him or that they had been working on a book together and that they got along far better than she had ever gotten along with anyone.

  She could not tell them that and they were disappointed that he had not come around to see them, so they had arranged for Lord Barnaby to pay a visit.

  “Miss Blackwell, do you know what else I like to do when I am not busy with my other tasks?” he asked Pippa. She had not been listening to a word he said in all this time, but she tried to focus, aware that whatever she was upset by, it was unfair. She needed to take the opportunity to appreciate Lord Barnaby for sharing an interest in her. Even if she thought her mother and father were incredibly foolish and cruel for arranging all of this, Pippa was determined to see to it that things would soon come to an end.

  As they continued to speak and she learned more and more about this man, Pippa had no choice but to start thinking about something else. She found that she had to think about the possibility of George.

  She did not love him. He was starting to bother her quite a bit, and yet, at least they had some things in common. At least there were areas in which they could bond and things she could talk to him about which would not drive her mad.

  He already knew about her love of writing and he had never mocked her for that. In fact, he had always been supportive.

  No, her mother and father would not approve of a man with no title like him, but perhaps she could share with them about his titled cousin? Maybe that would mean something to them.

  If they were willing to accept that, maybe George really was her best option.

  It had to be better than sitting there, pretending to listen when she was bored out of her mind. With Lord Barnaby, she had no choice but to preen and swoon, even if it was all a lie.

  “Can you believe it, Miss Blackwell?” he asked, clearly having just said something to impress her regarding himself.

  “Oh, I can hardly believe it, Lord Barnaby. My goodness, what an incredible thing to have experienced!” she said, smiling politely and trying to maintain her dignity, even if she did feel as though she had lost it by being fooled by Mr. Brooks.

  “Yes, indeed, it was. But it reminds me of another story,” he said.

  All throughout dinner, Lord Barnaby continued with his stories, each one about nothing other than himself. He was trying desperately hard to impress Pippa and her mother and father, but she could not explain to him how badly he was failing. This was not the way to her heart, but he didn’t seem to understand or want to hear that.

  “You know, Miss Blackwell, I am an excellent dancer. I heard that you are as well,” he said.

  Pippa scoffed and shook her head just as she was taking a sip of water. For a brief moment, she coughed, trying to make it dainty, but she had inhaled some of the water during her response. At last, she was able to reply to him.

  “No, Lord Barnaby, I am not. I am merely adequate. I am sure you know the importance of being a skilled dancer in England, but I am no more skilled than any other young lady,” she said.

  “Oh, I disagree. From what I have heard, you are exceptional,” he said.

  “You have heard? Forgive me, Lord Barnaby, but did we not dance once already? Surely you must remember my remarkable dancing from that evening if I am, indeed, the talent you say I am,” she told him.

  It took a moment, but recognition finally showed itself on his face.

  It was in that moment when Pippa gave up entirely on the concept of gentlemen and young ladies who could ever do anything good with their lives aside from appeasing them.

  She was ready for a change. More than anything, Pippa wanted Lord Barnaby to leave, but that was not going to happen for at least a few more hours. Instead, she lost herself back to those thoughts of her alternative.

  It was true. She did not truly like George, and did not see anything romantic about him. But it had to be better than this. She could set all of that aside if he was her only choice.

  Letting go of Mr. Brooks broke her heart, but that was truly the only thing she could do. It was the only way for her heart to survive.

  By the time the evening had worn down and Lord Barnaby had left, Pippa was ready to speak with her mother about some of the issues she was facing. There was so much which she could not say, but at least some of it she had to get off her chest.

  “Mother? May we speak for a moment?” she asked.

  Her mother looked surprised, then confused, then happy. They sat in the parlour together and Pippa allowed her posture to deflate, to reveal a bit of herself which was still human.

  “Pippa, dear, what is the matter? Did you not have a nice evening? Is it because he did not compliment your dress?” her mother asked.

  Pippa scoffed and shook her head.

  “No, Mother. Nothing like that. It is just that…I do not love him. I know that you are already aware of that and you do not deem love to be the most important aspect. But I must ask you why you are so cavalier about it? I mean, what if I do find someone I love? Would that not matter to you?” she asked.

  “Why? Do you love someone? I mean, there was that man at the ball, but he has done nothing since. He is not courting you. He has not spoken with your father. I have never seen you show interest in any man aside from him for as long as you have been alive, but I cannot change his ambivalence,” her mother said.

  “You think him ambivalent?” Pippa questioned, furious that her mother could see something in Mr. Brooks that she had not seen herself after all this time.

  “It appeared that evening as if he truly liked you and may want to court you. But his lack of action on that is what gives me pause for concern. Anyway, my dear, we should not dwell on it. Lord Barnaby possesses a fortune, and he is very interested in you. That is all that matters,” her mother said.

  “What if there is someone else?” she asked, hating herself for sinking to this question. She had no desire to marry George. Was she really willing to make such a sacrifice just to get out of marrying the boring and patronizing barons her mother and father continually presented her with?

  “Someone else?” her mother frowned.

  “I mean, would you and father accept an untitled man if his cousin was a baron?” she asked, taking in a deep breath of courage for what she was doing.

  Her mother sneered.

  “That does not sound like the sort of man we want for you. Why? Do you like him very much? Could you love him?” her mother asked.

  Pippa shook her head, this time in a certainty that she had scarcely experienced before.

  “No, I could never love him, but I do think we could get along because we have things in common. Even if I did not love him and even if he annoys me at times, I think I would prefer him to some of these men you are choosing for me,” she confessed.