A Daring Captain for Her Loyal Heart: A Clean & Sweet Regency Historical Romance

by Abby Ayles

  “What’s this?” he said, picking up a small missive stamped with the Duke of Belshire’s seal. It was shuffled beneath some of Mrs. Norris’ papers.

  “Oh, your man brought that in earlier. Said it was important — urgent, perhaps — but we had so much to do with the Norris case and then the indictment hearing before that.”

  Robert reached for a letter opener while his friend rambled on.

  “Really, Robert. I ask you to look over case files and you are lackadaisical at best. Here you have a letter from this family friend—”

  “—Godfather—”

  “—and you’re on the edge of your seat.”

  “There has been some unpleasant business,” Robert mused out loud, scanning the letter as he went.

  It read that the Duke’s son, a man Robert had known his whole life by the name of Gerard Mormont, Marquess of Malbrook, had fallen into a bit of trouble. It did not specify what kind.

  Robert bristled as he read. Gerard had been a thorn in his side since the two were boys.

  The Duke had taken to Robert from the start, holding his industrious nature up in contrast to Gerard’s laziness many a time. The Duke went out of his way to invite Robert on trips and teach him the necessary skills to succeed in the world of business, and that clearly infuriated Gerard.

  Robert remembered one time when the boys were but eleven and twelve years of age, respectively, when Gerard had been so filled with jealousy after Robert was invited to join a hunting trip, that he loosed a shot into the Duke’s prime hound and ever afterward blamed Robert for the offense.

  Robert, unwilling to further fuel the fires of jealousy, had kept silent and accepted his punishment bravely.

  “Gerard will grow wise with time,” the Duke always said.

  But luxury and title had worked a toxic effect on the young man, and as each year passed, he grew more spoiled and reckless.

  The Duke’s hand in this most recent missive was heavy with the pressure of anxiety, and his words were unmistakably urgent.

  “I must be away at once.”

  “My friend, surely this is not a fortuitous time? Rest the night and leave in the morning.”

  “No, they are in London at their townhouse. I will go directly.”

  “What could be the matter?”

  Robert had ridden to the Marquess’ aid before, for a financial squabble that had threatened the family with unpleasant gossip. He suspected it would be something similar, but didn’t trust his partner with the details.

  “It’s a private matter, I’m afraid. You will of course press no further, Mr. Parnum?”

  “Of course.”

  The other man rang the bell, waving his hand dismissively at the doorman who appeared.

  “Please bring Lord Lothmire’s coat and hat, and bring round his horse. He has to leave at once on urgent business.”

  ***

  As he neared the Belshire townhouse, Robert thought foremost of the Duke.

  He felt a great debt to his godfather. Even before Charles’s death, the old man had been there for both boys, raising them like his very own sons.

  He’d provided them references and opportunities to train and grow in their talents, and after Charles’s death, the Duke had been there to help Robert shoulder the burden of becoming a new Earl, and all that entailed.

  A short distance from the townhouse, he passed the stately Sinclairs’ manor, fully alight with music and laughter and twinkling lights.

  He’d heard of the dance, but hadn’t any desire to attend. It was one of the many fripperies of the opening of the season, and he’d had his fill of simpering maids and insistent parents.

  Still, he glanced in at the gate as he rode by… and there, in a small pool of lantern light, he caught sight of a brown-haired girl dressed in a slip of silver-grey cloth. Her foot was descending from the carriage - her slender arms were white against the dark vehicle.

  She looked like the North Star in a sea of meaningless constellations.

  For a moment, he thought about turning his horse down that pathway and arriving, unsuitably attired as he was, at that ball he’d so despised moments before. Then, he remembered the Duke, his work, and his own new title.

  Life was too complicated for North Stars at present. He rode on.

  He left his horse at the foot of the townhouse stairs and bid the boy there take it back to the stables. He entered the house with a heavy heart.

  “Lord Lothmire, what a surprise.” The butler let him in, and showed him to the library where the Duke was sitting by the fire, his back to the door.

  “Your Grace,” Robert said, his voice low.

  “You came.” The Duke of Belshire rose quickly, his once-handsome face now racked with worry. “I wasn’t sure you could get away.”

  “Anything for you.”

  “You see, there seems to be a bit of… trouble,” the Duke went straight to the point, “and I had hoped you’d be able to bring it to a swift and silent end.”

  “What is the matter?”

  The Duke cast a glance at the two footmen positioned against the wall. He lowered his voice even further.

  “It is a peculiar thing, but I’m afraid it needs to be handled rather discreetly. Would you mind…?”

  He motioned to a slip of paper and a quill lying nearby.

  Robert nodded agreement, and the older man moved past him and scribbled a few words on the slip of paper. He turned, holding it fast in his fingers.

  “It is about Gerard. I don’t want you to think less of him,” he seemed reluctant to part with the note in his hand.

  Robert thought it would be hard, after everything he’d experienced at the hands of Gerard as a boy, and later as a young man, to think less of Gerard than he already did.

  “Your Grace, I only wish to help. It is not for me to have an opinion one way or the other.”

  This at last put the Duke’s mind at ease, and he extended the paper with trembling fingers.

  Robert took it and read it with an increasingly sinking heart.

  “I see.”

  “The matter must be settled fast. You see there is a timeline on the thing.”

  Robert tucked the note into his pocket.

  “I will arrange it on the morrow if it is at all possible.”

  The Duke sank bank into the chair as though he’d recently survived a great trial. He waved indistinctly at the farthest footman, and the man brought him two glasses of sherry. The Duke offered one to Robert, and he took it.

  “There’s only one thing for it,” the old man said, drinking deeply and staring into the flames. “We have to get him into a respectable marriage.”

  “Marriage may not solve this particular problem,” Robert said quietly.

  “It has to. I demanded it of him.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He is agreeable enough. He does not think he has done any wrong.”

  The old man glanced at the drink in Robert’s hand. “He’s at the Sinclairs’ now. I told him he had to find a wife this season, and his solution was to go to the nearest ball in search of her.”

  “It’s not a terrible plan.”

  “He needs to find a respectable lady.” The man looked up with sudden eagerness. “Could you go and make sure he settles on a woman of good standing?”

  “Tonight? I would not be expected.”

  “You are the Earl of Lothmire. You are always expected.”

  “The Marquess has never been much moved by my opinion, Your Grace.” Robert set the sherry aside, bowing. “But if it would put your mind at ease...”

  “It would indeed.”

  Robert took his leave, his thoughts weighted with sober review.

  Do you want to find out how the story continues?

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  http://abbyayles.com/AmB022

  The Mysteries of a Lady’s Heart – Preview

  Book 1 – Portrait of Love

  Chapter 1

  The Duke of Norrend, A
rthur Cain Cartwright, moved his newspaper down just enough to look over it at his wife and the girls. He caught the eye of his eldest daughter, Lady Annabelle. She looked back, somewhat amused by the situation.

  The Duchess Louise Ann Cartwright was red in the face but silent. She seemed to be having a staring contest with one of the twin sisters she was mentoring. The indignant girl stared back without fear.

  “Lady Joanna, you cannot go against the rules simply because you want to. It is not done that way.”

  “I can,” Lady Joanna replied, shaking her blond hair back and forth. “I like my hair down and I want to keep it that way.”

  “A lady does not wear her hair down around her shoulders.”

  Lady Joanna gave her a cold look. “I am not going to put my hair up, my lady. You are not my mother. I do not have to do what you say.”

  “I am afraid you do, young lady. You were entrusted into my care by your mother and your father and I will do my best to see that you are raised properly. You will not go to the ball if you do not put your hair up in a style similar to your sister’s.”

  Lady Joanna’s frown deepened. “I do not want to look like her!” she cried.

  “You do not look like her,” the Duchess of Norrend’s voice was filled with confusion and exasperation. “You do not look alike. I was merely suggesting that you wear a similar style. I did not say the exact same style. Sometimes, young lady, I am beside myself with worry for you. Your future does not look prosperous to me.”

  Lady Annabelle watched the exchange between her mother and Lady Joanna, standing to the side with Lady Julia, her best friend and Lady Joanna’s fraternal twin. Lady Annabelle and Lady Julia had been friends since they were in nappies. Their parents had always been good friends. The Lord and Lady Rickman were fine people. When Lady Julia and Lady Joanna were twelve years old, six years previous, their brother Luke, who was only seven, fell into a pond and drowned. Unable to get over the loss of her precious only son, Lady Rickman isolated herself from society, withdrawing into a state of near despair. She asked her closest friend, Louise Cartwright, to care for her two daughters and raise them as her own until her depression broke. So Lady Julia and Lady Joanna lived with their mother and father but did all social events the ton had to offer with the Cartwrights and under the close, watchful eye of the Duchess.

  “That is not fair,” Lady Joanna said. Lady Annabelle thought for an eighteen-year-old young woman, Lady Joanna did not act like she had the sense God gave her. After six years of this, she should know that the Duchess always got her way. She glanced over at Lady Julia as Lady Joanna and her mother continued bickering. She was tired of it and only wanted to sit down. She caught her father’s eye and begged him with her mind to beckon to her. She would gladly go and sit with him and chat. Her father was a personable man. He was strong, intelligent, quiet, and reserved. Very unlike his excitable wife, who was outspoken and sometimes loud.

  He was looking over at them and caught her eye. He did not beckon to her. He merely shook his head and lifted his paper. Lady Annabelle knew a disappointed look had to have covered her face. She sighed.

  “Mother, I do not wish to stand here any longer,” she said. “I know Lady Julia and I have things to do before the ball tonight and I do not wish to waste any more of my time. I know between the three of us girls, and Lady Cecilia, too, we can find a hairstyle that will both be appropriate and approved by you and Lady Joanna.”

  Louise looked at her daughter, surprised. Lady Annabelle only spoke out when she was saying something logical. She nodded curtly, a frown still plastered on her once-beautiful face. “Yes. You three go upstairs. Lady Annabelle, take your sister with you. She needs to prepare, even if she has not yet reached the age of courtship.”

  “Of course, Mother,” Lady Annabelle replied, curtsying slightly. “I planned to take her with us.” It was only a little lie. She thought her mother would tell her to take Lady Cecilia with them but did not bring it up, just in case her mother did not say it.

  Lady Annabelle nodded at Lady Cecilia, who smiled as she walked to them from across the room. Lady Annabelle and Lady Julia went through the parlor door and into the foyer. The three older girls went through the door and to the curving stairwell to go upstairs.

  Lady Joanna pulled away from the other two quickly, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She picked up her skirts and was at the top long before her sister and Lady Annabelle. Lady Julia shook her head and murmured to her friend.

  “I tell you, Lady Annabelle, she is getting worse every year. Though I try so hard to teach her and show her.”

  “You two are nothing alike,” Lady Annabelle said confidently. “Nothing.”

  “I know. It is hard to believe we are sisters, let alone twins.”

  “I do not know where she gets such a spark!” Lady Cecilia exclaimed. “I would never speak to Mother the way she does. Never, ever.”

  “She is only speaking her mind,” Lady Julia said. “But sometimes I do wish she would say things a little more politely.”

  “Perhaps time will help,” Lady Annabelle suggested.

  “One can only hope,” Lady Cecilia said, shaking her pretty head. Her hair was piled up on her head, hanging in beautiful ringlets around her pale cheeks. She had no face paint on yet but planned to add a little rouge and some color to her lips before the ball. She was only sixteen and not allowed to do some of the things her eighteen-year-old sister could do. That was not one of the things her mother insisted on, so she took advantage of it to give herself some color. She detested the gown she would be wearing that night. It was a dull brown color, almost a tan with dull dark yellow soft fabric around the collar, wrists, and hem of the skirt. It was pretty but the color took away any vibrancy she could have hoped to achieve. She wanted to wear something bright pink, blue, green, red, something that would make her sparkle.

  Her hair was a pale color of yellow, but it was pretty. She had no eyebrows to speak of and her eyelashes could not be seen, though they were quite long. The only thing she could use was rouge and lipstick. She did not need face powder with smooth skin like hers.

  Lady Annabelle looked similar to her sister but her features were more prominent. Her dark blond hair was double braided and pulled to the back. She was wearing a pale red dress with gold trimmings around the collar, wrists, and hem. There was a small line of pearls going down the front of it, just between her breasts. It made her look beautiful and she knew it. She had the perfect necklace to go with it, a row of pearls her father had bought her for her last birthday. They were the same exact size as the pearls on the dress.

  “We still have several hours for the party. We do not need to get dressed yet. Let us go out and enjoy the sunshine for a while,” Lady Annabelle said in a low, conspiratorial voice. Lady Cecilia’s hand went immediately to her mouth and she giggled behind it. Lady Julia raised her eyebrows, a small grin fighting for the ends of her lips.

  “Lady Annabelle, are you hatching a plot?” she asked, her voice very curious.

  Lady Annabelle grinned. “Whatever do you mean? Of course not.”

  She turned to the stairs and climbed them. “Come, let us change into the clothes to go outside. It may be muddy from recent rains.”

  “I think it has been sunny enough to dry the earth, though,” Lady Julia said, following behind her friend. She had a lot of clothes at the Cartwrights’ home. She had no problem fitting into them, as she was of average height and slender as could be.

  “Well, we shall see. I am going to err on the side of caution and at least bring my boots. Then if I do not need them, I will leave them on the porch.”

  Lady Julia nodded. “That is a good idea, Lady Annabelle. Shall I ask Lady Joanna to come?”

  “If you wish to, of course,” Lady Annabelle replied. “But I do not think she will want to.”

  “Probably not but I will ask.”

  Lady Julia went to the room she shared with her sister when they visited Norrend, the name of the mansion
in which Lady Annabelle’s family lived. The other two went hurriedly to Lady Annabelle’s room.

  ***

  “I just do not know what to do with my sister,” Lady Julia said, aggravated, as they walked down the pathway toward town. “I try so hard to encourage her to come out with me. It is not just today but it seems so often now! And do you know she has told me that she will wear the style your mother suggested to her after all? All that arguing for nothing! I do not understand the girl! Why do I feel so awful?”