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

by Bridget Barton

  Marie bowed her head in acquiescence.

  “Yes, Your Grace. As you wish,” Mimi offered.”

  “Oh, will you cease with addressing me as Your Grace when we are alone, Mimi. You may call me Hugh in private.”

  “Ah, yes. I see.” She occupied herself with pouring more tea for her mother. The Duke preferred coffee or, sometimes, ale. Mimi poured slowly and carefully so as to keep her thoughts in order. She and the Duke were to be married in two weeks. There was barely enough time to get the invitations out. But she dared not ask him to give her a little more time.

  “Well?”

  “Well, what, Your Gr … I mean Hugh?”

  “That is what I want to hear. My wife uttering my first name in the privacy of our dining room. Music to the ears, is it not?”

  “I am not your wife yet, Your Grace.”

  “You deem it wise to disobey me so soon? Mimi?”

  She smiled, thinking he was teasing.

  He took a long pull on his tankard. “I said to call me Hugh when we are alone, did I not?”

  Mimi’s smile vanished. “Yes. Yes, you did, Hugh. I’m sorry.”

  He relaxed. “Yes. Music to the ears,” he said as he picked up the newspaper and began to read, effectively shutting her out.

  Mimi and Marie sat in silence looking at each other until Hertford stood from the table.

  “Ladies. I am going riding. I will see you both at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. Good day.” And he was out the door.

  Mimi and Marie said not a word for five minutes or so. Then Marie cautiously spoke in a near whisper.

  “What happened when he found you in London?”

  “How is it you know he went there to get me?”

  “For shame, mon ange. He arrived in the late afternoon, yesterday. He was angry that you had gone into the city. He meant to stay the night and wait for you, but by midnight he’d drunk himself into a tizzy. He feared you might leave him. Mimi, he was beside himself. He went from anger to despair and back again. Finally, he had the carriage made ready, and he went off in search of you. I see you are not ill. What really happened?”

  “It makes no matter, Maman. Duke Hertford and I will be husband and wife in a fortnight. You will never have to fear anything ever again.”

  “But, are you content? Is all well?”

  “Maman! Surely you are not worried about me, are you? Why this is everything you’ve ever wanted. I have exchanged love to become the wife of a Duke. You should be dancing in glee. You will sup among the beau monde. You will meet men, Maman. Are you certain you want to be tied to your Mr Carnaby? You might do better than him. You might find an Earl or Viscount.” Mimi threw her head back laughing until Marie began to grow frightened.

  And then as quickly as she’d burst into hysterical laughter, she broke down in racking sobs. She shook all over, and her shoulders moved up and down with her gasping breath.

  Marie went to her daughter. She held her and smoothed back the mass of shiny black tresses from Mimi’s forehead. Nancy came into the dining room.

  “Will you help me, Nancy? Mimi is overtired.

  “Of course, Mrs Hancock.” She took Mimi’s arm and put it around her shoulder. Marie did the same with the other arm and the women walked Mimi upstairs to the third floor and her bedchamber at the back of the house.

  Mimi wept softly as they walked. When they reached her chamber, she cried in her mother’s arms. “I’m sorry Maman. I don’t mean to hurt you.”

  “I know mon ange. I am sorry too. I feel I’ve done you wrong. I … I did think of myself in my efforts to find you a rich husband with a title. But you must believe me when I tell you that you were my main concern. You have always been my main concern, my daughter. I love you very much. Can you ever forgive me?’

  Mimi sat on her bed and smiled a sad smile. “I forgive you, Maman. I know you only want what’s best for me. I forgive you with all my heart.” She took Marie’s hand and squeezed it. “I love you, Maman.”

  *******

  “I’ll take it all. Thank you.” Richard readied the horse he’d just bought with the new saddle and tack he’d purchased. He was allowing himself four days to get to London, and he was looking forward to the journey.

  His leg was much stronger than it had been when he’d first come back from the war, but with exercise, herbal poultices, and unguents it had healed well. Indeed the leg was almost as strong as its mate. The muscle had almost entirely developed.

  The skin, itself was still mottled, rough, and discoloured. Richard knew he could always hide that; it was the limp he’d had such a difficult time camouflaging. That was the case no longer.

  He still carried a walking stick, despite the fact that he no longer needed it. With his daily riding marathons and walking, Richard had built his entire physique up. He felt strong, happy, and successful. And confident. There was no possibility that Marie Hancock would deny his request for Mimi’s hand. She would have to acknowledge that he was now successful enough to marry her daughter.

  Richard’s life in America had made him as much of a gentleman as one of the landed gentry in England. He wanted to take Mimi away and make her the mistress of his grand plantation home.

  He mounted the horse and started off on the journey. He travelled light, so he was able to travel fast. And as he rode, he paid no heed to the countryside or the state of the weather. He rode as hard and long as he could before having to stop at an inn to rest the horse and get a few hours of fitful sleep. He felt that time was of the essence, though he had no explanation for the feeling. He just knew he had to get to London, to Mimi as quickly as time would permit.

  He’d ridden straight for about ten hours and had put about a hundred miles behind him, having stopped once for an hour to rest. He decided to check into the tavern inn and stay until the twilight before dawn. He’d made good time. He expected to be in London no later than the day after the next. In the morning.

  He left the horse with the stable boy and went into the tavern to order supper and a room for the night.

  *******

  “Entrez, Maman.” Mimi was dressing in her chamber. Giselle was assisting her and would also stand by her side during the wedding ceremony. Mimi had apologised to her maid for accusing her of being untrustworthy. The sentiment had left Giselle feeling guilty as she still harboured the secret of Richard’s visit to Mimi over a year earlier.

  “You look absolutely beautiful, mon ange. I am so proud of you. In a matter of hours you will be the Duchess of Hertford and every door will be opened to you.” Marie stood behind the chair Mimi was on. She placed her hands on Mimi’s shoulders.

  “Yes, Maman. I suppose there are much worse things in life than marrying a Duke!” She laughed, but her black eyes were cold. It was not the life she would have chosen. She knew deep in her soul that all the Duke’s riches could never fill the spot in her heart that was reserved for love. But, as it was, things could be worse.

  “Does she not look simply angelic, Giselle?”

  “Oui, Madame.”

  “You have a grand life awaiting you, Mimi. I will see you at the Church. Giselle will ride in the carriage with you.” She leaned forward and kissed her daughter on top of her head.

  Mimi looked in the glass and smiled at her mother’s reflection. “Thank you, Maman.”

  Marie left the room, and Giselle continued with styling Mimi’s hair into a simple, yet lovely chignon that rested low against the neck. When she was finished, she turned to the wedding frock which had been laid out on the bed. It was soft white muslin worked with silver threads that created a subtle shimmer in the fabric whenever it moved.

  A silken silver tie went along the high waist and tied behind Mimi’s back. The sleeves were delightful puffs upon her shoulders, and a gossamer silver gauze shawl looped over her elbows.

  Small silver slippers encased her feet, and Giselle handed her a pair of pearl ear bobs to hang from her pierced ears.

  As she put the ear bobs on, Mimi wa
s suddenly overcome with a feeling of panic. Her eyes filled with tears.

  “What is it, Mademoiselle?”

  “Oh, Giselle. My life is over.”

  “Miss Mimi, you are having wedding nerves. You will have a wonderful life. Please. Don’t cry.”

  “No, that would never do. What would the ton say?” she asked bitterly.

  “Don’t let yourself think that way, Mademoiselle.”

  “I can’t help it, Giselle. What have I given up to better myself? I do not love the Duke. I will never grow to love him as my mother did my father. What have I done?”

  “Mademoiselle, please. All will be well.”

  “I love Richard, Giselle.” Mimi laughed again in a caustic tone. “Today I am to wed a self-centred man who wants, I believe, to possess me more than he loves me. Everyone has told me how lucky I am. I will have only to say the word, and anything can be mine. Everything, can be mine.” She stared at her reflection in the looking glass. “Yes, I can have anything I want but that which I truly desire.”

  “I am so sorry, Miss Mimi.”

  “If only I could have kept Richard’s love. When he came back from the war, I thought that we might have a chance. But he was so curt. He cut me. Then, when I was ill, I waited for him to come to me. I called for him. Did you not hear me?”

  “I heard you, Mademoiselle. But your maman would not allow me to bring him to the house.” Giselle went to the bedchamber door, opened it, and poked her head out. She looked both ways in the hallway then came back into the room and closed the door. She latched it.

  “What is it, Giselle? What do you have to tell me?”

  “You were delirious for days, Mademoiselle. And Lieutenant Warren came to the house. He begged me to let him see you, and I relented.”

  “So he was here. It wasn’t a dream. Why have you not told me before now, Giselle?” Mimi’s eyes held a hurt in their depths.

  “I’m sorry, Mademoiselle, but your Maman had come upon him here in your chamber. She sent him on his way and punished me. She was so unhappy with me, Mademoiselle. She forbade me to tell you anything. I feared she would end my employment. I couldn’t risk that. Later, we heard that Mr Richard had left England.”

  Mimi reached for Giselle’s hand. “I understand, Giselle. And thank you for telling me now. It, somehow, makes it easier knowing that Richard did love me back.” She smiled gently. “Come. Let us go to the Church.”

  Chapter 22

  Richard rode into London at six o’clock in the morning. He rode immediately over to the Hancocks’ house on Jermyn street only to find that it was closed and boarded up.

  What could that mean? Richard took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He rode around the side passage back to the mews and walked down three houses to his own.

  Kirby was in the stable and smiled. “Good morning, Lieutenant. Fancy meeting you here!”

  “Yes, I’ve come back to get my Tilly. Where is she? And it’s Mr Warren now. I’ve left the service.” He dismounted the horse he’d been riding, handed the reins to the groom and went into the stable to find the mare. She whinnied and nuzzled her soft nose into his neck. “I’m taking her back to America with me.” Richard grinned at Kirby.

  “Well, the old girl will be happy with that, Mr Warren. She missed you.” Kirby led the other horse into a vacant stall.

  “Who’s in the house, Kirby?”

  “Mrs Reilly is there.”

  “I will be back.” Richard nodded and made his way towards the front of the house and the area. He entered and looked into the servants’ hall.

  “Hello?”

  Mrs Reilly came hurrying from her sitting room next to the hall. “Lieutenant!” She smiled broadly and embraced Richard.

  “Mrs Reilly. It’s so good to see you! And I’m Mr Warren now.”

  “Oh, of course. It’s been ages. I take it you’ve come for the wedding? Everyone who’s anyone will be there! It’s the biggest event of the season.”

  “Wedding? No. I know of no wedding. Who’s being wed, Mrs Reilly?”

  The woman’s smile vanished, and she looked down.

  “Do you need to sit down, Mrs Reilly? Are you well?”

  “I don’t know how to say this, but. Oh dear. You mean to tell me you didn’t get a letter from your dear mother? Or, Mrs Hancock?”

  “Mrs Hancock. Why would she write to me? The woman, while actually not holding anything against me, has a way of acting as if I’m not alive.” He chuckled, but the housekeeper didn’t join in his jesting. He looked closely at the woman’s face. “Mrs Reilly, what is it? You can tell me. It can’t be that bad.”

  “Oh dear. I … I’m so sorry, Sir. But it’s … it’s Miss Hancock, Lieutenant.”

  “Miss ... oh, Miss Mimi? What about her? If you’re wondering if she wrote to me, I’m afraid the answer is no. She seems to have taken the same attitude as her mother. Is she well?” Suddenly he knew, with as much certainty as he knew his own name, what the housekeeper was getting at. “Ah, it’s clear now. I see that it’s Miss Mimi who is being wed today. Is that right, Mrs Reilly?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “The Duke?”

  “Yes.”

  “How? When were the plans made?”

  “The final plans were made two weeks ago by the Duke. It was Mimi’s mother, Mrs Hancock, who practically made a laughing stock of herself pursuing the Duke. But she got what she set out to get and sooner, I believe, than she’d planned on it. Mrs Hancock, herself, is to be married in a month’s time to a very wealthy landowner. Mr Thomas Carnaby, you see. So both ladies have quite the comfortable futures awaiting them.”

  “I should have known Mrs Hancock would do anything in her power to marry her daughter off to Duke Hertford. It is Duke Hertford, is it not? I sent Miss Hancock a note before I left England. She never answered me. And so I left. I don’t know if she loves me, but I know she doesn’t love the Duke. I know it.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Richard sat at the table and ran his fingers through his hair. “And now, I’m too late.”

  “Well, that really depends.”

  “It depends? On what? Mrs Reilly, I do not know what you’re saying. You don’t know what you’re saying. Do you?” He dared to have a glimmer of hope.

  “She is not married yet. His Grace obtained the special licence. From the Archbishop of Canterbury. The wedding doesn’t have to be between eight and noon. The special license allows for the ceremony to take place after the noon hour. That being said, the ceremony is not until two o’clock this afternoon. It is to be at the church in Isleworth. It is just half past seven now.”

  “Isleworth. Thank you, Mrs Reilly.” He picked the woman up and swung her around. “Thank you!”

  He ran from the hall and back out to the mews. “Kirby! Saddle up Tilly, man. I’ve a wedding to go to.”

  *******

  Mimi squeezed Giselle’s hand. They were in the carriage on the way to the Church.

  “Don’t be nervous, Mademoiselle. After today you shall never want for anything for the rest of your life.” Giselle’s eyes gleamed.

  “Yes, you are almost right, Giselle. I dare say the only thing I shall want in my future life is love. And it will have to suffice that the love I receive will be from my children and my friends.”

  “But, Mademoiselle, Duke Hertford loves you.”

  Mimi shrugged. “Does he? Or does he want what he wants? The man has never been told no. I tried, and it fanned the flames of his feelings for me. Duke Hertford is possessive. He wants me because he fears losing me. He will not lose, Giselle. Do you understand that? He will always have his way, and that’s the way it is, has always been, and will continue to be in our future together. No, His Grace does not love me. He means to possess me is all.”

  “Oh, Mademoiselle, how awful. I cannot bear that you should feel this way. Your wedding day should be one of the happiest days of your life. Please, don’t be so, so …”

  “So bitter, Giselle? I am n
ot. Not actually. I would that things had gone differently. That is all. I know it’s not easy for you to understand my unhappiness about my impending union with the Duke. But for all the ease I will have in my future, all the frocks, bonnets, slippers, and stockings I will be able to purchase at leisure. For all the balls and dinners and parties that I shall be invited to for fun and frolic, my life will be a glittering, empty shell.”

  “Mademoiselle, please don’t say such things.” Giselle’s eyes were filled with tears, and she patted Mimi’s hand.