The Lost Love of a Stunning Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  Landed gentry was no better than a tradesman, her mother informed Mimi. They might be new money people that had recently bought up an ailing country estate, but they had no pedigree. One had to watch out for them. They were as good as imposters.

  Marie seemed to have forgotten her own humble beginnings as well as those of her husband. She seemed to forget that her daughter came from that world of new money families that the ton felt were interlopers into their shielded society. She seemed to forget that it was a dream of her husband to become landed gentry, and he had been making plans to achieve the goal. But, as much as she would support the efforts of her husband, Marie had no intention of allowing her daughter to be in a similar kind of situation.

  Mimi felt that her mother counted on her to pull the family further up the hierarchical ladder of the fashionable set. She felt that her mother wanted her, counted on her to somehow put the Hancocks into the midst of the old money of the London beau monde.

  It was an uncomfortable spot for Mimi to be. She loved her mother very much and never wanted to disappoint her. But Mimi had a heart of her own. And that heart belonged to the second son of a novice banker.

  She agonised over telling Marie of her true feelings for Richard. She dreamed of running off to Scotland with the man she loved. A clandestine marriage between secret lovers at Gretna Green or another such place. Somewhere where Mimi, at eighteen, didn’t require her parents’ permission to marry her true love.

  And Mimi knew without a doubt that she was in love with young Richard Warren. She felt he must truly return her sentiments. She saw his love shine in his eyes although he’d never professed it. And there were times when she had weak moments and doubted her heart. At the last dance she’d been to she’d observed Richard as he’d danced with Lizzie Stevens. Twice.

  Lizzie Stevens’ father was a rich man. He had no title, but he was a true gentleman making his money off the sweat and hard work of others. His daughter was a good catch for any man just about, much less the son of an upward climbing tradesman. Lizzie Stevens could help in raising the Warrens up. And Richard, as charming and handsome as he had become, was the type of man some women would take a step down for. And their families would allow it. In fact, Mimi was quite aware of the way other young ladies looked at Richard. How they whispered and made eyes at each other behind their fans when he appeared.

  If Lizzie and Richard had had two dances directly in a row, others would have thought them to be courting. Mimi had to fight the feeling of anger that had threatened to overtake her when she saw them together. The thought of Richard spending time with another woman caused Mimi great distress. She neglected to realise how he might feel about who she spent her dancing time with.

  Mimi, herself had danced with a number of young men at the same dance at which Richard had squired Lizzie about. But that was what young ladies did. They danced. With gentlemen. It was the only way to have any kind of private conversation and get to know someone without somebody breathing over one’s shoulder. Mimi couldn’t allow herself to be one of the lonely girls who sat on the upholstered chairs and sofas that had been pushed against the walls around the dance floor. She couldn’t have spent the evening drinking negus. She didn’t want to wait for a dance partner to take pity on her and ask the master of ceremonies for an introduction.

  And then there was the Duke. His Grace, Hugh Templeton, the Duke of Hertford. Mimi didn’t know what to do as far as he was concerned. He’d been presented to her at Almack’s and had shown an avid interest in her. Indeed, he seemed to show up at any event where dancing was an activity. He’d asked Mimi to dance with him at each soiree. Twice.

  And he’d questioned what she might be doing during the following summer. Marie said that must mean that the Duke wanted to marry Mimi. Mimi didn’t know, exactly, how her mother had come to that conclusion, but Marie operated as if it were a fact. She anxiously guarded her daughter’s time to be sure Mimi would be available for a dance should Duke Hertford desire one.

  The Duke was very handsome; there was no doubt. Tall and dashing, he dressed impeccably and stylishly. He had dimples and a glint in his bright blue eyes that left Mimi to battle confusing thoughts and feelings.

  Her heart belonged to Richard. She was sure of it. Wasn’t she? Why had she recently found herself scanning the drawing rooms and ballrooms of London in search of the Duke, as well as Richard?

  *******

  London

  Early Spring 1812

  “Mon petit chou? Are you done, mon ange?” Marie knocked on the door to Mimi’s bedchamber.

  “Oui, Maman. Entrez.”

  Marie peeked her head around the partially open door. “Ah! You look lovely my dear. I cannot believe my baby is eighteen years old. You have grown into a beautiful young woman.”

  “She is just as beautiful as her maman was at the same age.” Joseph Hancock walked up behind his wife. She stood in the entrance to the bedchamber, and he placed his hands on her shoulders. “I still remember the first time I saw you, dear Marie. Although your beauty has remained, it has grown mellow and resonant with the years. I find myself even more in love with you.” He took Marie’s hand and kissed it. Marie gazed at her husband with a look of pure love.

  Mimi smiled. Witnessing the tenderness her parents had for one another was moving. It also caused her to further question her attraction to Richard … and Duke Hertford.

  The Duke intrigued Mimi as no one did. She had to consider that she felt a sense of excitement when her mother described the lifestyle of a woman of the haut ton to her. She also harboured a secret sense of excitement at the thought of owning the Duke’s affections. If the Duke decided to marry her, Mimi could have the kind of life most women of her station only dreamed of. The kind of life her mother had dreamed of once but had traded for true love and a moderate existence.

  As Hertford’s wife, Mimi could sleep late every morning and have her chocolate brought to her while still in bed. She could have riding frocks, morning dresses, half dress frocks, and full dress ball gowns. More than one or two of each. She wouldn’t have to worry about soiling or damaging any of her delicate frocks. She could have more made. She could have all manner of reticules, headbands, earrings, and brooches. Fans galore, slippers and silk stockings, gloves, pellises and every manner of bonnet with satiny ribbons.

  It was so much fun to consider that she could change her dress three or four times each day according to what social enterprise she might be involved in.

  Her days could be spent riding in Hyde Park, shopping on Bond Street, visiting, going to parties, dinners, and balls. The never-ending cycle of social hospitalities that fed the gossip of the bon ton would become the pattern of her daily activities. But all of those changes could take place only if Mimi were a member of the ton. And that membership came only with the artfully planned acquisition of a marriage proposal from another member. Duke Hertford. Once the commitment had been verbalised, the Duke would be bound to her, for to renege on a marriage proposal was tantamount to social suicide. The Duke’s honour would be ruined.

  The kinds of feelings Mimi’s parents had for one another, Mimi was sure, were more akin to the ones she carried for young Richard Warren. Marie, however, wanted her daughter to marry a rich man. A man of the peerage. Not the second son of a tradesman. Even if said tradesman was Mimi’s own father’s business partner.

  “Speaking of love, dear heart, our darling girl has captured the eye of the Duke of Hertford. He shall be here tonight to offer birthday wishes to her. Is it not wonderful, dear?”

  The sound of her mother’s voice brought Mimi’s attention back to her parents. A cacophony of hooves and carriage wheels outside below the window came to their ears.

  “That may be the Duke now.” Marie ran from the room. “Mrs Gauthier, see to the door. Mind, don’t look too eager.”

  “How do you feel about the Duke coming to your birthday dinner, Mimi? You know young Warren will be here as well. Will it be uncomfortable in any way? I’ve
seen the way you and Richard look at each other.”

  “Oh, Papa. You’ve always been able to read me so well. I, I don’t know if it will be uncomfortable. I mean, Richard is aware of Maman’s plans for me. He doesn’t know about the Duke as a serious contender for my affections, though. I’m so confused.”

  “Your heart belongs to young Warren, does it not?”

  Mimi looked down to hide her consternation. “Y … yes. I mean …I … I’m not sure. When I’m with Richard, Papa, he is the only man I think about. The Duke is quite captivating; I’d be lying if I were to say otherwise. But he and I have only danced a few times. We’ve had no conversation other than the social niceties spoken at parties and assemblies.”

  “And you know how Maman can be. She’s already planning the wedding. She likes Richard well enough, but she says he’s just a boy, and I need to marry a man. A man of the peerage. Someone established within the ton.”

  “And one cannot get any more established than a Duke, I dare say. Your mother would like nothing better than to have her baby become a Duchess.”

  “How did Maman get to be this way? So superficial. She’s always been ambitious for me. Doesn’t she want me to have love in my life? A love like she shares with you?”

  “Your maman only wants what’s best for you, pet. You see, your mother and I married for love. And I believe there’s not a day goes by that she doesn’t regret it.”

  “Papa! No! How can you say such a thing? Maman loves you.”

  “Yes, she does. She loves me very much, and she’s been a true and faithful wife to me. But she could have loved a man of the peerage just as well. When I met your mother in Paris, things there were bad and getting worse by the day. It was the coldest winter that had been in years. Frost after frost hit the city. ”

  “I remember Maman telling me about it whenever I would complain about the cold!” Mimi offered.

  “Your maman’s mother was a dressmaker to the rich. After the Bastille was stormed in July that year, your grandmother had cut ties to her aristocratic clients by the new year of 1790. Only a few months before Christmas the royal family had been imprisoned in the Tuileries Palace. The common people hated and were suspicious of the rich and those who had anything to do with them. A member of the aristocracy, the French equivalent of a Duke or Earl, had been smitten with your mother. In the springtime, before things had come to a head in the city, this aristocratic man, Paul LeFevre, Le Comte de Burgundy had talked with your grandfather regarding marriage to his youngest daughter. Marriage to my Marie, your mother.

  “Your maman was just fifteen when the King and Queen were imprisoned in late 1789. I myself was seventeen. I had met Marie Beauvarlet by chance at a salon party the summer before. Though I never formally courted her, I had fallen madly in love with her the moment I laid eyes on her. I could see, though, that your grandmother had much the same plans for her as your mother now has for you. I danced with Marie a few times and spoke to her in the company of others. I presumed she would marry the French Comte your grandmother had been so quick to alert me to. I was very much in love; I wanted only Marie’s happiness. I planned to leave Paris. My chances with your mother were nil.

  “Your grandparents had the good sense to see that the tide of unrest would eventually overturn Paris when the royal family was imprisoned in ’89. It would be four more years before both the King and Queen would meet Madame Guillotine, but your mother’s family had decided to make their move out of not only Paris but France, in the early spring of 1792. They had planned and worked at making the arrangements for over a year.

  “I had the opportunity to rescue your mother from Paris. She didn’t want to go with her parents. They would not allow her to stay and take her chances in Paris. Both options were thoughts I could not bear. I would be separated from my Marie.

  “The price of food in Paris was exceedingly expensive. Even bread had become exorbitant. The people were starving. Your grandparents’ plan was to slip out of the city and go up to Belgium where your grandfather’s brother was living.”

  “Your mother had limited options. She could flee with her parents. Or she could marry me. Her gentleman friend, the Comte, had escaped Paris without a word to her. She knew my background, and she knew I would bring her to London. And at the time it had been enough for her. Her only thought had been to survive.

  “Maybe she’d had ideas of meeting a member of the peerage here in London; however, after what she’d seen in Paris, the idea of being an aristocrat had begun to frighten her. When the news came to us that the French queen Marie Antoinette had been executed for treason ten months after the king, a part of your mother died. Or disappeared. Her lines of trust of what is and what should be had frayed. It had become the common people who had power. So she decided to stay as one.

  “It was when she began to feel safe again, and when she’d realised that what had happened in Paris was not going to happen in London, that she began to think differently. The old desires her mother had taught her. The desires for something more, for money and station, began to resurface. You had joined us by that time. And your maman proceeded to put all her hopes and dreams of somehow infiltrating the haut ton onto your tiny shoulders.

  “She had become my bride and the mother of my child. Our marriage has been a good one. Marie has always felt obligated to me for rescuing her. And, in time, she grew to love me as I loved her. She has been a loyal wife, Mimi. I have no regrets.

  “But the end of her sense of fear and the beginning of her young motherhood had coincided. You were to live out the destiny your mother had, out of necessity, given up. You were to have all the things she never had when she was a girl. And the things her marriage to an English tradesman could never acquire for her.

  “You were brought up as a lady as well as could be managed. Now that Duke Hertford has shown an interest in you, your maman, I believe, feels that you and she,” he smiled wryly, “have arrived, so to speak. She will refuse to let him get away. Again. There is no political unrest of the kind your mother endured in Paris, here in London, my daughter. I don’t see your mother letting the Duke easily out of your sights.”

  Mimi remained quiet. She and her father’s eyes met as they heard the guests beginning to come into the house.

  “We’d better go down to the drawing room, Papa.”

  “Yes, let us go. Just remember this, my dear Mimi. I am happy your mother chose me and not Belgium or her aristocratic suitor. But it has not been easy knowing I’ve fallen short, all these years, in giving your mother the things that would have raised her place in society. I now know that although I love her as much as I did then, my love was only part of what she had wanted out of life. I was just a fragment of what she needed.”

  “I am my mother’s daughter, Papa. It is true. But I am not her. I will follow my true heart’s desire. I desire love above opulence and a place in the high society.”

  Mr Hancock smiled at her, “As long as you’re sure of what your heart’s desire is, pet. That is all I care about. Come, we must welcome your guests. Happy Birthday, dear.” Mr Hancock escorted his daughter downstairs to the drawing room.

  *******

  At seven o’clock, the party moved from the drawing room to the dining room for the birthday dinner. All of Mimi’s favourite dishes including beef roast, glazed carrots, salad, cheese, and seed cake were laid out upon the dinner table. The birthday cake was a rich French butter cake, something Camille had been baking for Mimi’s birthday since coming to work for the Hancock’s twelve years prior. It had become a family tradition by this, Mimi’s seventeenth birthday.

  At every sound from the street, and even at noises from the area, Mrs Hancock perked up. Surely the Duke was only running late. He’d sent no response to the invitation to the dinner party, but he was a Duke, after all. There were commitments and that sort of thing. Dukes were busy men. Why send a confirmation when one might only be able to stop by due to some unforeseen consequence? Hertford would be along shortly to off
er his birthday salutations. Or, they would receive a note sealed with the crest of Hertford, bestowing the Duke’s apologies and disappointment at missing the festivities.

  Bella was present with her new husband, Mr Bond. The scandal of their elopement had died down, and things had fallen into a nice routine for the couple. Bella looked beautiful and in love.

  The Warrens were in attendance with Richard, as well as two other couples who were friends of the family, each with sons. All in all, there were four young men, besides Richard, present along with three sisters. It was a joyous group.

  The idea had been that the four young men would pale, for Mimi, in comparison to the brightness of the Duke of Hertford. But the Duke had not yet arrived.

  Marie glanced towards the window, then at the clock on the mantle. It was a quarter past the hour of ten. Dinner was long finished, and the men were enjoying port in the dining room. The doors to the drawing room would soon open, and the dancing would begin. The rented chamber musicians were tuning up their instruments.