London Season Matchmaker Box Set: Regency Romance

by Lucy Adams

  Titania smiled, shrugged and looked away. “I do not think, Your Grace, that you are entirely to blame for what occurred,” she said, softly. “After all, you stated that you had no choice in the matter. I trust your word completely and I must continue to hope that Eliza will, one day soon, allow you to explain to her the truth in its entirety.” Her head turned and her eyes secured on his. “I believe that she still loves you very dearly.”

  So saying, she turned on her heel and slipped away, leaving Jeremy feeling as though a horse had kicked him hard in the chest. Love. Eliza still loves him? Could it be true?

  Gasping for air, Jeremy quickly moved to a darker corner of the room, pressing one hand against the wall for support as he attempted to regain control of his breathing. He had not allowed himself to hope for anything such as this, for the love Eliza had for him must surely have gone from her by now. He had been quietly convinced of that fact, believing that Eliza would have thrown all thought of him aside after he had abandoned her.

  And now, Titania had not only told him that Eliza still thought of him, still considered him, but that she might also still love him. It was almost too wonderful to take in, almost too incredible to believe.

  Suddenly, the choice about attending the dinner tomorrow evening began to clear itself into one obvious decision. He had to attend, regardless of what he had said to Titania. Even if Eliza was to be upset with his presence, he had to show her that he was still willing to be present in her life, was still waiting for her to give him the opportunity to speak the truth. With Lord Montrose present also, it would, most likely, be rather awkward with perhaps a good deal of tension clouding around the table but, in time, that would lessen and they might be able to have an enjoyable evening.

  Then again, he considered, managing to breathe a good deal easier as he stood tall again, Eliza might not have told Lord Montrose about what had occurred between herself and Jeremy, which meant that the gentleman might not even be aware of the strain. Perhaps this would be a good deal easier than he had expected.

  Chapter Five

  “Did you enjoy last evening?”

  Eliza nodded, looking out of the carriage window so that she would not have to gaze into Lord Montrose’s dark eyes.

  “You have not said anything particular about it,” Lord Montrose pressed, reaching forward and taking her hand in his for a moment, a tuft of brown hair falling across his forehead. “You did not find it particularly interesting, mayhap?”

  Casting a quick look at the maid who was sitting to the right of the carriage, her eyes fixed on the window instead of looking towards her mistress, Eliza slowly extracted her hand from Lord Montrose and, by way of apology, gave him a bright smile. “I confess, Lord Montrose, that I was distracted by my own thoughts last evening,” she said, honestly. “Although I did enjoy the music, of course.”

  At this, Lord Montrose looked a little relieved, as though he had been deeply concerned about her. He sat back in his seat and regarded her carefully, his eyes warm and a light smile on his face. “Just so long as you are content, my dear Lady Wells.”

  Eliza nodded, smiled and let her gaze drift back towards the window. She did not want to tell Lord Montrose that her thoughts had been solely settled upon him for the first half of the evening, worrying about what Lord Franks had said of him and fearing that, even though she had been fiercely determined not to allow such things to tear at her mind, she might begin to doubt his intentions.

  And then, whilst she had been battling her tumultuous thoughts, her eyes had rested upon Lord Jeremy Avondale.

  Even now, she could still feel the shock ricocheting through her, the astonishment of seeing him pinning her to the floor for a moment. Her heart had begun to thud wildly, torn between delight and anger. He was as handsome as she remembered him, his face no longer contorted with regret or pain. In fact, he had been smiling, his eyes alight and his expression open. How often had she found herself caught up in that smile? How often had she found her heart beating wildly with the intensity of his eyes?

  And why, even now, did she feel herself falling back into the love she’d tried so hard to forget?

  What had been all the worse was that Avondale had been talking to Titania. He had been reveling in her conversation it seemed, laughing at one point at something Titania had said. She had been unable to prevent herself from watching them for some time, her sharp eyes taking in every single movement he made. She had seen him frown, his eyes focus entirely on Titania, how he had shaken his head, then rubbed at his forehead. And then, at the very end, when Titania had grinned, he had given her a slightly hesitant smile, as though he had agreed to something he was not quite certain of.

  But when Titania had walked away, Eliza had been caught up in Avondale’s reaction. He had stared after Titania, stunned, before staggering away to a darkened corner of the room as though all of his strength had been pulled from him in one painful moment.

  How she had longed to go to Titania and demand that she tell her everything that had occurred between herself and Avondale! How desperately she found herself wanting to know what had been said, the small, dark fears beginning to take a hold of her already.

  It was quite foolish to believe that Avondale would ever care for Titania, but yet her mind continued to push her towards that possibility. Titania did not hold grudges and seemed quite willing to talk with the duke, whereas she herself had forced him to remain silent, to keep his explanations unspoken, whilst telling him the lie that she cared nothing for him any longer when it was quite the opposite.

  Her foolish heart, Eliza realized, was betraying her all over again.

  “Oh, do look there!” Lord Montrose exclaimed. “Can that be Lord Hollard and his dear sister?”

  At this exclamation, Eliza’s ears pricked up and she turned to where Lord Montrose was pointing.

  “Yes, indeed,” she replied, softly. “That appears to be Miss Stapleton. Shall we stop?”

  The carriage, which had been meandering its way around Hyde Park during the fashionable hour, was already going slowly enough that Eliza thought she might be able to hop to the ground without any difficulty whatsoever. However, she reached up to rap on the carriage roof so that it might come to a complete stop, only for Lord Montrose to stay her hand.

  “We need not,” he said, easily, settling back into his seat. “I am quite contented with your company at present.”

  Eliza tried to smile but her thoughts were already turning towards what Lord Franks had said of Lord Montrose some days ago. “I should quite like to greet Miss Stapleton, however,” she said, as warmly as she could. “You would not mind a brief stop, would you? You might talk with Lord Hollard for a short time.”

  Lord Montrose’s smile did not quite reach his eyes. “I could do, but we are bound to see them again very soon,” he replied, with a small shrug. “The ball tomorrow evening, for example.”

  Eliza laughed softly and, before he could stop her, reached up and rapped sharply on the roof. “Oh, Lord Montrose, you are quite ridiculous sometimes,” she said, teasingly. “You know very well that balls can be a terrible crush and make it almost impossible for anyone to be seen!” She shook her head at him in mock amusement, letting her lips curve into a laughing smile. “Come now, it shall be quite wonderful to see Miss Stapleton again.”

  Lord Montrose had no opportunity to protest, for the carriage had already come to a stop and the door had been opened for Eliza to climb down onto the grass. She did not wait for Lord Montrose but hurried towards Miss Stapleton who, much to Eliza’s relief, greeted her with a warm smile.

  “Good afternoon,” Miss Stapleton said, once she had greeted Lord Montrose who had hurried behind Eliza. “How very good to see you again, Lady Wells.”

  “And you, Miss Stapleton,” Eliza replied, smiling. “Are you enjoying the afternoon?”

  Some small pleasantries passed between the four of them for a few minutes, leaving Eliza a little frustrated. She did not know what she had been intending
by insisting that they greet Miss Stapleton and Lord Hollard, but it had been Lord Montrose’s obvious unwillingness that had encouraged her to do precisely that.

  “You have not taken Lord Franks’ warnings on board, then, I see, Lady Wells,” Lord Hollard said, grandly, nudging Lord Montrose’s arm. “Unless he has easily been able to take you in with his fine words and grand excuses, as I am certain he has done with many others before – and certainly his own dear mother!”

  Eliza sank into her relief, seeing the way that Lord Montrose’s eyes flared for a moment with surprise. “Indeed,” she said, blithely, trying to pretend she did not see Lord Montrose’s astonishment. “I confess that I have not spoken to Lord Montrose of what was said, so he has not had any need to try and find any ‘grand excuses’, as you say.” She smiled up at Lord Hollard, a twinkle in her eye. “Indeed, I think that a gentleman’s past indiscretion may not be a true reflection of his present character. Do you not think that fair, Miss Stapleton?”

  Miss Stapleton laughed, her eyes dancing as she took in Lord Montrose’s uncomfortable stance. “I think, Lady Wells, that you are more generous than I,” she replied, honestly. “Although Lord Montrose must be more than grateful for your consideration of him.”

  Lord Montrose cleared his throat, sending a sharp glance towards Eliza. “Yes, of course,” he stammered, obviously entirely uncertain as to what was specifically being said. “More than grateful.”

  Eliza hid a smile and nodded at Lord Montrose as though she approved of his response. In her heart, however, she began to wonder just precisely what kind of gentleman Lord Montrose had been and just how much he would attempt to hide the truth from her. “We must not continue to embarrass Lord Montrose in this way, however,” she continued, allowing a quiet laugh to escape from her. “What shall we talk of next?”

  Thankfully, the conversation quickly moved onto other things, such as who was throwing the next ball and whether or not a masquerade ball was quite the thing to be attending or not this year. Eliza listened with half an ear, her attention still caught by Lord Montrose’s slightly pale face, aware that his usual easy smile no longer came quickly to his lips.

  Once they had taken their leave and were making their way back to the carriage, Eliza heard Lord Montrose mutter something under his breath, her thoughts beginning to churn through her mind in earnest. Would he be the one to bring up what had been said? Or would she have to do so, when it became clear that he was attempting to set it aside completely?

  “We should return you home, Lady Wells,” Lord Montrose said, the moment he climbed into the carriage. “That is, I confess, why I did not wish to linger in conversation. I would much prefer to be in your company and, therefore, not waste the precious time I have with you by spending it with others.”

  This compliment was, Eliza was sure, meant to make her blush prettily, but she had no intention of doing such a thing. Eyeing Lord Montrose carefully, she sat back in her seat and folded her hands in her lap.

  “I quite enjoyed our conversation,” she said, with a slight lift of her shoulders. “I am sorry you did not.”

  Lord Montrose looked away quickly, just as the carriage began to roll forward again. “It is not that I did not enjoy it, Lady Wells, but more that I found myself wishing that I was in your company alone.”

  Eliza smiled at him, aware that this was meant to be her response, finding his unwillingness to talk about what had been said to be a trifle concerning.

  “You have not asked me what Lord Hollard meant by his comment about what Lord Franks mentioned,” she said, keeping her eyes trained on Lord Montrose so that she might not miss even the smallest of reactions. “Does it not interest you?”

  Lord Montrose shrugged, keeping his eyes trained on the passing scenery out of the window. “I confess, Lady Wells, that I care very little about what others say of me.” His eyes slid back to hers. “It is only your opinion that interests me, my dear.”

  Eliza nodded but did not smile. “I met with Lord Franks, Lord Hollard and Miss Stapleton previously,” she explained. “Lord Franks had some interesting comments as regards your character, Lord Montrose.” She did not know why she was suddenly so eager to discover what Lord Montrose would have to say about such a revelation, especially when she had been so determined not to allow her mind to be troubled by such a thing, but she felt almost obliged to continue. “You do not wish to know what such remarks might be?”

  Lord Montrose sighed, clasped his hands in front of him and looked at her with a slight hardness to his brown eyes. “As I have said, Lady Wells, I care very little for the opinions of others and I confess, I am a little surprised that you have found yourself so interested in such a thing also.”

  His slight rebuke had Eliza flinching, a warm glow of shame beginning to wash over her. “It is only that I find myself wondering if their view of your character and my view can truly be so far apart,” she replied, trying her best to put into words the fear that she felt growing slowly within her. “When Lord Franks described you, I felt as though I did not know the person he was discussing.”

  Lord Montrose frowned, his mouth pulling into a hard line. “Why do you feel the need to listen to and discuss my character with anyone other than myself, Lady Wells?” he asked, his voice growing deeper. “Am I not here before you now? Have I not evidenced the sort of gentleman I am with every passing second that we share together?” He shook his head, his breath coming out in a hiss, as though he was truly upset with what she was attempting to do. “I am disappointed that you would give so much consideration to another gentleman’s remarks about my character, Lady Wells, particularly when you yourself do not know the gentleman in question very well at all!” His gaze grew stern, one eyebrow lifting slightly. “Is it that you do not trust your own judgement?”

  Eliza lifted her chin, refusing to give into the guilt that was biting at her. “It is more than reasonable for me to listen to remarks made by those who have known you a good deal longer than I,” she stated, firmly, not allowing herself to be cowed by Lord Montrose’s harsh remarks. “That is understandable, is it not? It is, for example, quite reasonable for you to speak to my mother or my sisters so that you might understand me a little better.” Inwardly, of course, Eliza prayed that he would not, a little afraid what some of her sisters might say about her – or that one might mention Avondale to him. “What Lord Franks stated was, I confess, a little worrisome.”

  Lord Montrose seemed to rise up in his seat, expanding in the carriage until she was forced to shrink back. His color rose steadily, his obvious anger becoming more and more apparent as he looked back at her.

  “I do not care what Lord Franks had to say about my character, Lady Wells,” he exclaimed, furiously. “If I were to speak to your sisters or to your mama, as you have stated, then I am certain that some of them may tell me of mistakes or upsets that you caused at one time. That should have no bearing on my consideration of you now, should it? It should simply be evidence of my own weak character, of my own weak considerations that have my mind tumbling over questions and fears and concerns instead of simply allowing my heart to know the true measure of itself.” One hand, curled into a fist, slammed down into the other, making Eliza jump. “I am not a gentleman of either weak character or uncertain mind, Lady Wells. The question, however, is whether or not you have such traits within you and, if so, what it is you intend to do about them? Are you going to continue to question others as regards my suitability or will you allow yourself to be guided by your own heart and by what you know of me?”

  His voice had filled the carriage, startling both the maid and Eliza. Eliza could hear blood roaring in her ears, her face filling with color as Lord Montrose continued to glare at her, his questions remaining unanswered. She felt ashamed and confused, not knowing what to say or what to do. It was more than a little mortifying.

  “I can see,” Lord Montrose continued, harshly, “that I am required to give you a little more time to consider matters, Lady Wells. We
shall continue as before, of course, but if you have any more doubts about me, if your mind is filled with questions about my character, then I would have you confess it to me at once, so that we might bring this charade to an end.”

  “Charade?” Eliza repeated, quietly, surprised at how soft her voice was. “What do you mean, Lord Montrose?”

  Lord Montrose settled into his seat, the glare of anger slowly beginning to dim. “I mean, Lady Wells, that I have been true and honest in my intentions when it comes to courting you. I had thought that we had started out tremendously well, but if you are continuing to have doubts and questions over me, then I would know immediately, so that I might bring this to an end.” A long breath left him, blowing the rest of his anger away. “I will not allow my heart to become entangled with one who has so little confidence in both myself and in what might be,” he finished, leaving Eliza with yet another heaping of guilt settling over her shoulders. “Do I make myself clear, Lady Wells?”

  Eliza nodded, wishing desperately that she had never allowed herself to speak, had never insisted that they go to talk with Miss Stapleton and Lord Hollard. If only she had pushed aside her questions! If only she had fixed her mind on her belief that she did not need to know what Lord Franks meant, if only she had pushed aside the troubling thoughts that had begun to prick at her. This current situation might never have occurred, if only she had been able to do so.

  “I must apologize, Lord Montrose,” she murmured, lowering her eyes to rest on her hands folded in her lap. “You are quite right. I have been foolish.”

  Lord Montrose cleared his throat, his arms unfolding from across his chest. “Indeed.”

  “I must ask your forgiveness,” she stated, plainly. “I will not allow the remarks of others to dog my mind, as I have been doing thus far.” Her eyes remained on her lap, finding herself unable to lift them to his face such was her mortification. “Might you find a way to forgive my stupidity?”