London Season Matchmaker Box Set: Regency Romance

by Lucy Adams

  He hoped her faith had been of some comfort to her in the last few hours of her life.

  A wave of sadness washed over him as he walked to the dresser, picking up her hairbrush before setting it back down again. There was nothing of particular interest here and he could tell his staff to simply pack up all of her things and send them to Lord Northgate.

  The trinket box, however, caught his eye again and he found himself reaching for it, peering at the gold lock and wondering why she had occasion to hide something away. Trying to lift the lid did him no good at all, for the box was locked tight and, for what appeared to be quite a delicate lock, it was quite unrelenting beneath his prying fingers.

  Frowning, Jeremy began to scour the room for the key, already feeling disheartened, given that it would be remarkably small and could be very easily lost. In the seven months he had been married to Rebecca, he had never allowed himself to pry into what she felt or feared, what she prayed for and what she hoped. He had always reminded her that he was her husband and would treat her with kindness and understanding, should she ever wish to speak with him, but whilst she had nodded and thanked him, she had never sought him out. They had lived separate lives, which Jeremy had accepted with the hope that, in time, they would begin to find a way of coming together and finding some semblance of happiness.

  Therefore, it was to be expected that he had no knowledge of where this key might be, or even a thought of what might be hiding within. Nor could he explain the reason for his interest but Jeremy knew that, even if he set the trinket box back down upon the dressing table and returned to his study, it would continue to nag at him, its secrets holding a mystery that he simply had to solve.

  Shaking his head, Jeremy let out a soft groan and rose from where he had been searching, thinking that he was beginning to undertake what would prove to be an impossible task. Mayhap he should simply force the trinket box and break it open, for no-one would be particularly upset with him.

  Looking around the room one last time, Jeremy’s eyes fell upon the prayer book. He had not looked there, although he did not think that such a small book could contain anything of the kind. Picking it up, he leafed through it quickly – only to discover that a small gold chain was caught in between two pages. Pulling it out deftly, he saw, to his delight, that the gold key was hanging on the end.

  “Let us see what secrets you have to hide,” he muttered to himself, his heart pounding as though it expected him to find something truly terrible within. The key went in smoothly and he turned it at once, delighted when it opened without hesitation.

  What he saw within made his heart stop dead.

  Letters tied in a red ribbon, nestled in the depths of the box. He lifted them out carefully, astonished to discover yet more written underneath, although these were tied with a black ribbon and had been flattened down hard. What secrets had Rebecca been hiding from him?

  Still feeling as though he were prying in some way, Jeremy quickly set the trinket box back upon the dressing table and, with the two stacks of letters in hand, quit the room and hurried back along to his study. Closing the door tightly, he set the letters down upon his desk and went to pour himself a small whisky. He felt as though he could do with a little sustenance.

  “Your Grace.”

  The butler scratched at the door.

  “The refreshments?”

  Jeremy cleared his throat and called him to enter.

  “Set them there,” he said, quickly realizing that he had forgotten the tea and the food that had been left waiting for him in Rebecca’s rooms. Obviously, the butler had taken note and had sent them along. “And then I am not to be disturbed. Tell the staff they can begin to pack up my late wife’s things to be sent to Lord Northgate. I have completed my own study of them.”

  The butler nodded, the tray of food now waiting for Jeremy to partake of it. “Of course, Your Grace. At once.” He left the room and closed the door tightly, reassuring Jeremy that he would not be disturbed.

  Letting out a long, slow breath, Jeremy sat down and pulled open the black ribbon, quickly counting that there were eleven letters in total. The letters were blank save for a swirling letter ‘M’ on the front, which had him frowning.

  Opening the first, Jeremy’s eyes quickly scanned the page, his breath catching in his chest as he read what was Rebecca’s desperate pleas. She had cried out desperately for this gentleman, whomever he was, to return to her, not to leave her as she was.

  His heart sank as he continued to read those terrible words, aching for what his cousin had endured. Setting it down quickly, he pulled a letter from the back and opened it quickly, surprised at the difference in tone.

  It was full of love and adoration, telling this gentleman, whomever he was, that he had quite captured her heart and made her feel that she was not the quiet, delicate young woman that she saw herself to be. She thanked him for his own letters and his words of love – and immediately, Jeremy understood what had occurred.

  These letters were to the same gentleman. The man who had taken advantage of his sweet cousin and used her for his own pleasures. Her desperation in the last letter showed what had occurred and how poorly she had been treated. His anger burned hot, angry with both the gentleman and with Rebecca for never allowing either himself or her father to see these letters. Had they done so, they might then have been able to identify the fellow and then could have taken steps to set things to rights.

  Although to have forced Rebecca to marry such a man was quite unthinkable, Jeremy had to admit.

  Setting the letters to one side, Jeremy put the black ribbon on top and turned his attention to the red ribbon letters instead. This time, he began at the very bottom of the pile, pulling out one of the first and opening it quickly.

  ‘My dearest Rebecca,’ it read. ‘I must continue to beg you to remain silent about our continued acquaintance, for, as you are well aware, my mother is determined for me to marry someone completely unsuitable to my temperament and it will take time for me to persuade her that I must be allowed to make my own choice. Say that you will continue to meet with me? Say that you will escape to me whenever you can! My heart is yours. You cannot know of just how deeply my affections run, for my every thought, my every moment, is filled with you.’

  Jeremy’s blood ran cold at this, seeing the manipulation clearly. Poor Rebecca, so quiet and yet so naïve, she had obviously believed every word that this gentleman had said. Had she truly believed that he loved her? Had this been her reason for her silence? Even though he had treated her cruelly, did something within her still want to protect him?

  “I wish I could find you,” Jeremy bit out, his anger flaring hot. “I should beat you senseless for what you did to her.” Closing his eyes, he considered ripping the letter into tiny pieces and then throwing it on the fire, but managing to regain a hold of his temper, he deftly folded the letter back up again and thereafter took the one from the top.

  It was short and to the point, devoid of any emotion. Jeremy could imagine Rebecca reading these words, could almost feel the devastating heartbreak that would follow.

  “You must cease your letters,’ the gentleman had written. ‘I have no use for them. Therefore, I have returned them all. You shall not have anything from me, for I claim no responsibility for what has occurred. M.’

  Breathing hard, Jeremy closed his eyes, his hand tightening on the letter. How could someone dare to write something so callous, something that was bound to break the very spirit of the girl he had seduced? It was utterly disgraceful.

  And then, something caught his attention.

  ‘M’.

  It could, of course, be any gentleman within the beau monde, for there were both surnames and titles that began with that letter. In addition, the gentleman might have given Rebecca a false name, so that she could not truly know him – but surely, surely, within one of these letters, there would be reference made to his name? He had to know. He had to know who it was.

  Quickly, Jeremy se
t aside the red ribbon letters and returned his attention to ones Rebecca had written. Going through each one in turn, he opened them and read it quickly, praying that his cousin had written the name of the gentleman somewhere within.

  And then, his eyes came to rest upon it.

  Dread and triumph filled his entire being, his lungs heaving with the shock of what he had read. Rebecca had been in London at the same time as Lord Montrose. The very same Lord Montrose who was now to marry Eliza.

  Jeremy put the letter back on the desk with a trembling hand, fury beginning to writhe through him like a snake. He wanted to call for his horse and ride back to London at this very moment, throwing the letter down in front of Lord Montrose and demanding that he admit what he had done. She had to know the truth, even if she did not turn away from Lord Montrose and towards him, she had to know that Lord Montrose was not the sort of gentleman who could ever make her happy. Even if it was too late for Rebecca, he could save Eliza from the horrible fate of marrying such a braggard.

  Fire settled into the pit of his stomach and he rose to his feet at once, striding across the room to pull at the bell. The butler would appear in a moment and Jeremy intended to return to London that very same day, if he could.

  He had to have justice for Rebecca in one way or the other and had to save Eliza from her fate. He just prayed that Eliza would listen to him and that she would not turn away from him again. Perhaps, in this, he would find a way to redeem himself from all the pain he had settled upon her shoulders, all those years ago.

  Chapter Twelve

  Eliza was frustrated.

  Lord Montrose had not appeared to take tea with her as he had promised. That had been, in fact, three days ago and only this morning had she received word from him.

  He had apologized most profusely for his absence from her side and had stated that he had been so caught up with plans for their honeymoon that he had quite forgotten his engagement.

  “Eliza?”

  She turned to see Titania walking towards her, her eyes darting from place to place as though she were afraid of what Eliza might say about her presence in the drawing room.

  “Titania,” Eliza said, not understanding the way her sister was looking at her. “Is something wrong?”

  Titania did not sit but began to pace up and down in front of the unlit fire. It was a warm day and the sun was shining in the windows and creating a most pleasant atmosphere but her sister’s obvious tension seemed to dampen the brightness.

  “Eliza, I do not know what you have decided as regards Lord Montrose,” Titania began, a deep red flush beginning to creep up her face. “But I must tell you…..in speaking with Miss Stapleton – with whom I have become dearly acquainted these last few weeks – I have found out something most distressing.”

  Eliza frowned and rose to her feet, reaching out to grasp Titania’s hand so that she might still herself instead of continually pacing.

  “Whatever it is, you may speak freely,” she said, gently, aware that her sisters did not, as yet, know that she was planning to break off her engagement, given that there had been outings and balls and the like to take up their time. “Truly, I am eager to hear what you have to say.”

  Titania winced, as though speaking so honestly would upset Eliza greatly. “It is just that Miss Stapleton heard from her brother that Lord Montrose has been seen in the company of Lady Barclay,” she whispered, not quite looking at Eliza. “I know you have been waiting for him to call and still, he has not appeared.”

  Seeing Titania’s red face, Eliza pressed her hands tightly and gave her a bright smile. “You need not concern yourself any longer, my dear sister. I have already decided that I shall not be continuing with my engagement to Lord Montrose.” She saw Titania’s eyes shoot to hers, a delighted smile already appearing on her face. “It seems, Titania, that you have known what is best for me all along. I shall not be marrying Lord Montrose and instead shall seek out the Duke of Avondale.” She smiled as Titania threw her arms about her, glad beyond words. “Your news only shows me that I am correct in my decision.”

  “Oh, I am so very happy,” Titania exclaimed, releasing Eliza from her embrace. “This is truly wonderful. I am certain that the duke will accept your heart again in a moment! I know you have had a great deal of pain but there is a reason behind it, I am certain, a reason that he has never been able to explain to you.”

  “I know,” Eliza acknowledged, softly. “I must now speak with Lord Montrose whom, it seems….” She trailed off, hearing his loud voice echoing from the hallway, “is already present in the house.” Squeezing Titania’s hand, she let go of her sister and turned towards the door, ready to greet Lord Montrose. “Might you sit in the corner, Titania, for propriety’s sake?” Seeing Titania nod, Eliza gave her a grim smile. “Never fear. It will not be for long, for he will be gone soon enough.”

  Titania giggled and hurried away to the corner of the room. Lord Montrose was admitted only a few moments after she had taken her seat and Eliza was forced to accept not only his frivolous words of greeting but also his pressing of her hands and his intense nearness.

  She suppressed as shudder as he kissed the back of her hands, a broad smile settling over his face, his eyes alight with apparent good humor.

  They would not hold such an emotion for long.

  “Lord Montrose,” Eliza began, with a tight smile. “Might you be seated? I have something I wish to say to you.”

  “As do I,” Lord Montrose replied, grandly. “I must discuss with you the plans for our honeymoon. I had thought of a long and lengthy tour about England, for we must certainly visit and greet my many dear friends and relatives – all of whom will be delighted to meet you, of course!” He chuckled delightedly, as though this would be a wonderful occasion for Eliza. “I can tell by the look upon your face that you think this a pleasing suggestion.”

  Again, I see his calculated mind, Eliza thought to herself, allowing her brows to knit together. He is trying to convince me that such an idea is truly wonderful, so that he can begin to mold me into whatever he pleases.

  “I think not, Lord Montrose,” she stated, the smile beginning to fade from his face at her cool tone.

  “No?” he repeated, sitting up a little straighter in his chair. “But you would be glad to meet those I consider my friends, would you not?”

  Eliza did not smile. “I do not think I should be glad of even your company, Lord Montrose,” she replied, delicately. “Indeed, I have heard some things of late that have quite convinced me that this engagement, such as it is, is not of particular benefit to me.”

  She watched with interest as dark clouds began to circle around Lord Montrose, his shoulders lifting, his brow furrowing.

  “You should watch what you say, Lady Eliza,” he retorted, not even a hint of good humor in his face any longer. “I am not well pleased with what you are suggesting.”

  Eliza arched one eyebrow, finding that she did not particularly care what Lord Montrose’s feelings were on the matter. Given that he cared so little for her own, why should he then expect any such consideration from her?

  “So you deny, then, that you have not been seen in the company of one Lady Barclay?” she asked, softly, seeing the way the color began to drain from Lord Montrose’s face. “You have not eschewed my company in order to spend time with her?”

  Lord Montrose got to his feet abruptly, beginning to walk this way and that across the room, gesticulating wildly as he spoke. “It should matter very little to you what I do with my time,” he exclaimed, a faint color now rising in his cheeks. “Even if I should wish to spend time with another dear acquaintance, I hardly think –”

  “Dear acquaintance?” Eliza repeated, interrupting him. “My dear Lord Montrose, I thought you had only been introduced to her at the dinner party we held only some days ago! Can she truly have become of such importance to you in such a short time?” She held his gaze steadily, wrath filling her. “I will not be treated in such a manner, Lord Mon
trose. I will not be wife to a gentleman who believes himself unable or even unwilling to accept that the vows made before man and God are not of great significance.”

  Lord Montrose stopped dead, turned on his heel and narrowed his eyes. Despite her courage, Eliza could not help but feel a frisson of fear run through her, a gnawing unease that Lord Montrose might not accept her refusal to wed him as easily as she had hoped.

  Behind Lord Montrose, Titania rose from her seat silently, evidently seeing his change in demeanor and feeling the same tension as Eliza.

  “I cannot help but think, Lady Eliza, that you are beginning to show a deeply ungrateful spirit,” Lord Montrose said, softly. “You also seem to think that, in some way, you have some sort of say over my behavior. That is not so. When we wed, you shall be mine in the same way that a horse or a servant is mine.” He folded his arms, his dark presence seeming to fill the room. “But that shall not be so for you.”

  Eliza lifted her chin and refused to be quelled. She opened her mouth to state that she would not be marrying him, that their engagement was, as far as she was concerned, entirely at an end – only for the drawing room door to swing open and crash, noisily, against the wall.

  Her mouth fell open in astonishment, shock rifling through her as Avondale walked purposefully into the room, his blue eyes tearing towards Lord Montrose as a grim line settled about his mouth.

  “Your Grace,” she whispered, her voice hoarse as she clasped her hands tightly in front of her to stop them from trembling. “Whatever are you doing here?”

  Avondale did not so much as glance at her, his eyes remaining fixed on Lord Montrose. “I am here to prevent you from marrying Lord Montrose, Eliza,” he said, his voice filled with ire. “He does not deserve one so kind nor so good as you. Not after what he has done.”