Lord to Love Again: A Sweet and Clean Regency Romance

by Grace Sellers

“I am sorry for the interruption, ladies.” He bowed and turned to Caroline. “My apologies if I startled you. I am an old friend of the earl’s and Stanwyck’s and I heard at a nearby inn that he was staying here, so I rode up to surprise him.”

  By then, the man was almost across the field and he and Wolfolk were shaking hands and patting each other on the back like idiots. Men were always so happy to see each other. Nelly stood alone amongst the flowers, her face in an annoyed expression.

  Then Wolfolk seemed to remember her and turned to draw Nelly to them. That was fortunate. For a moment, Caroline wondered if this whole mission was in danger of falling apart due to poor manners.

  “Miss Featherton. It is my honor to introduce to you Sir Alexander Sutherland, as he said, he’s an old friend from my military days,” Wolfolk said. Nelly and Sutherland greeted each other, then Wolfolk turned to Caroline and Stanwyck’s brother and introduced them.

  Sutherland was nearly the exact opposite of Wolfolk. He had blue eyes, hair the color of straw and smiled easily, particularly at Nelly. But his clothes and his handsome gray horse suggested he was from the same social class and he seemed a wealthy gentleman. He wore a perfect caveat and nearly spotless Hessian boots. His hair was styled in a fashionable Caesar style, brushed forward, something she noticed some of the other male guests favored. That was one thing about Wolfolk was that he did not seem to fall victim to the popular dandy trends as some of the other gentlemen did. She had to give him credit for that.

  “What a fine, ripping craft!” Sutherland exclaimed at the curricle. He made a great show of walking around and examining every inch of it. But then the ton loved nothing more than expensive toys they could shower on themselves, Caroline reminded herself.

  “When did you purchase it?” Sutherland asked. Wolfolk told him it belonged to Stanwyck and that he was only borrowing it to drive Miss Featherton.

  “Ah,” Sutherland said knowingly. “It is a gig worthy of its occupant.” He smiled widely at Nelly, who simpered back.

  Caroline saw how Sutherland swept his eyes over Nelly and wondered how good of friends he and Wolfolk were. She made a mental note to avoid letting the two of them converse too much lest he turns Nelly’s attention.

  The midday air turned more humid and hazy.

  “I do think it may storm. Perhaps we should head back to Howsham,” Caroline said to stop Sutherland and Nelly from grinning stupidly at one another.

  “Yes, capital idea,” Wolfolk said, gathering up the reins, and smiling tightly. He seemed to have noticed it as well. He looked as though he’d swallowed a live bird.

  “Jolly good. I’ll see you all at the house,” Sutherland said sending another glance in Nelly’s direction.

  Sutherland horse’s backside cantered ahead of Alexander on the road. He had an irrational moment when he wanted to slap his team on, race them down the road, overtake Sutherland and beat him to Howsham, but that was a silly impulse. Sutherland was astride one horse, while he had an occupant who he had promised a pleasant afternoon ride, and catching hell for leather in a light gig would not be that.

  Still, he gritted his teeth. Typical of Sutherland to show up unexpected here now. He was good at blundering into situations and inexplicably seeming like the hero of the day. The man had been born under some kind of unwavering lucky star.

  Alexander remembered how during an interminable wait before a battle, Sutherland had begun extolling the virtues of brandy. Somehow he gathered the men around for a nip behind a tree, and they missed being shelled by the French. Sutherland was hailed as a hero, not the drunken lout he had actually been. Sutherland was a man commanders dreaded in war. He was careless and lucky. Wolfolk knew those were the kind of men who got others killed. Luck always ran out. Then men like Alexander were the ones left to clean up after him.

  Everyone loves a picnic, do they not?

  Wolfolk took the clean white shirt his valet held out for him and pulled it roughly over his head.

  Everyone except him.

  Although the sky threatened rain, Lady Stanwyck, replete with a small troop of servants and several tents, decided that a picnic was still in the cards for her guests and sent her footman to his room three times to ensure that he would attend.

  He grumbled more loudly each time the footman knocked.

  The clouds over half the sky were gray and scrawled. Although there was a patch of sunshine in one corner, it was obvious it would soon be gone and then the heavens would open. Why would Lady Stanwyck, normally a practical and logical woman, insist on having them all dress up and go outdoors, walk a fair distance, set out blankets on the grass only to have the skies open up and pour water on them?

  He had to attend. How could he win Miss Featherton by staying away? Reluctantly, he took the straw hat his valet was holding out for him and set out down the stairs.

  “Oh, picnics are dreary! The weather never behaves. Why not something fun like a dance?” Nelly whined as Caroline folded their shawls and set them in the basket. “Picnics are dreadfully overrated.”

  “Is there anything else you should bring?” Caroline ignored her and glanced around the room. She did not want to attend the picnic anymore than Nelly did, but she knew they had no choice. Nelly and she were both dressed in their light summer finery. She grabbed a small ruffled parasol and tucked it in as well as they headed down the stairs. Nelly was still complaining.

  “Picnics are supposed to be about being out in nature, but they are no better than dinner parties set on scratchy blankets. Yes, there is fresh air, but also ants and wind and the sun. And one was still expected to carry on an interesting conversation while insects fly near one’s mouth.”

  Caroline glanced at the sky and nodded at her briskly. “We still must attend. Our hosts have invited us.”

  Nelly rolled her blue eyes dramatically. “If they invited us to tar-and-feathering, would we go?”

  “Yes, if Lord and Lady Stanwyck invited us to a tar-and-feathering, we would attend.” Caroline shushed Nelly and pushed her out of the front door.

  She knew Nelly would change her mind once she had some male admirers.

  Outside, in front of the house, a group of guests gathered and began to walk in the direction of the hill at the top of the floral meadow. Nelly elbowed Caroline in the ribs and noted that Wolfolk was in the front of the pack, carrying a large basket, Louie trotting next to him.

  “If nothing else, there is your reason to attend,” Caroline said quietly to Nelly.

  Nelly glanced down to her feet and almost looked as though she blushed, which surprised Caroline. She was not usually the giddy schoolgirl. Perhaps love would bloom between the two, which would make Caroline’s life easier. She wanted Nelly happy in her circumstances. Although to be fair, any young woman would be thrilled by the prospect of marrying a handsome, rich, eligible earl.

  As the picnic food was passed around, Wolfolk stood back and occasionally bent down to pet Louie. He slowly, painstakingly moved from one guest to another, chatting, taking a few bites of food, and glancing toward Nelly at a rate that would put him near her in an approximately two and a half hours.

  If he took any longer, the picnic would be over.

  Hell, Nelly’s youth would be over.

  Mr. Sutherland, on the other hand, made himself at home across from Nelly, who was next to the fruit basket, and he kept going back for grapes and berries. He repeatedly expressed how tart raspberries were this season at Howsham, and by Caroline’s count ate at least four handfuls of them, which she suspected he may regret later.

  Each time he moved to the basket, Sutherland engaged Nelly in conversation, and each time, Wolfolk watched them but did not move closer. After a half-hour, Caroline was ready to call out him out, which, of course, she did not. Yet.

  If this kept up, she would never earn her companion money.

  Caroline decided to address this directly. Wolfolk was alone near the table containing a pitcher of lemonade, Louie at his feet, so she picked up her cup and
approached. Alarm showed in Wolfolk’s eyes. How had a battle hero who was an earl become such a timid mouse?

  “Fine weather,” she said to him almost too briskly to be polite. She was not feeling polite anymore. Louie’s tail wagged when he saw her.

  “Hello, handsome,” she said as she bent to pet Louie.

  “Why, thank you. You look well yourself,” Alexander said and picked up the pitcher and poured her a glass without answering. He barely looked up at her.

  “It looks like rain,” he mumbled.

  She took a sip of lemonade as he made no motion to lengthen the conversation. She glanced at the sky. He was right. They were darkening to the west, but she did not want to give him the satisfaction of agreeing with him.

  His gaze flickered from her to Nelly, and she realized he was not necessarily rude.

  He was afraid.

  So strange, that a man born and bred to lead would feel timid when it came to wooing a young woman. It was not superiority that kept him aloof, although it seemed that way, but rather fear. Instead of writing him off as another arrogant member of the ton, she took another long sip of lemonade.

  “My lord,” Caroline held out her glass for more.

  Maybe she could assist him. And, therefore, help both of them.

  She cleared her throat and ignored how her pulse quickened when he turned his attention to her. Annoying man.

  “You trained in the military. Is it common to approach the enemy and simply observe in order to defeat them?”

  His brows furrowed and he frowned more, something Caroline did not think was possible.

  “One may observe the enemy to learn something from them. But you cannot hope to defeat them without engaging them.” He handed her a full cup.

  Caroline smiled. At least he understood military strategy. Maybe he was not a complete idiot.

  “Yes, I thought so. And love is not like a military campaign at times?”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “I do not know what you mean.”

  “I mean that if one is to win someone’s heart, might that also include vanquishing competitors as well? Isn’t that a sound strategy for winning … well, anything?”

  He nodded. Contempt emanated from his eyes. “I admit to having more experience on the battlefield than courting, so I may not be the best one to answer that comparison.”

  Faith, was he always so difficult?

  Caroline smiled sweetly and crouched to pet Louie’s fur. “Perhaps I should inquire to Mr. Sutherland. He seems to know his way around both arenas.”

  She knew that comment would sting. After a moment, she stood up to walk away.

  “Yes, perhaps you should ask him,” Wolfolk’s very masculine voice said over her shoulder.

  She was close enough that his breath tickled the back of her neck. Or maybe that was her imagination. But a shiver ran through her. Why did he vex her so much?

  She turned back to Wolfolk. His face was unreadable. His brown eyes appeared hazel in the sunlight.

  “My lord, I merely want to help you. Miss Featherton is an incomparable. She has no match this season. I was under the impression that guests at Howsham were aware of this.”

  His lips curved in a knowing smile.

  “And simply because she is beautiful and I am a peer, we should be a good match?”

  “No,” Caroline said, pausing. “Well, perhaps.”

  Why was he so difficult? It’s not like she had made up the rules for courtship. “You will never know if you do not actually speak more.”

  Wolfolk looked gloomy again. The breeze picked up and blew his hair around one side of his face. For a moment, he looked quite cross.

  “Have you ever been married, Miss Holland?”

  “No.” She knew he knew that. She would hardly be eligible as a companion if she had been. A couple of guests turned their heads in their direction. Caroline smiled at Wolfolk so people would not think they were having a disagreement, although they very nearly were.

  “I do find it interesting that I am given advice by someone who knows so little of the institution,” he paused. “Do you always opine on subjects you know little about or is this a special case as the lady’s companion?” He spat out the last two words.

  She paused, confused. She had never been talked to that way. Not to her person, anyway. Not even by debt collectors who had come to haul away her parent’s belongings. He was correct; actually—she did not know much about marriage—but it was very rude for him to say so.

  Wolfolk was a wretched man, and for a moment, she could not craft an appropriate response. The worst part was that he stung her feelings. She turned around so he would not see the tears in her eyes.

  No, do not cry. She could have a full-throated argument with her brother and not bat an eye, but an unkind word from a dour earl and she sprouted tears. What was wrong with her?

  Then he surprised her.

  He stepped toward her and offered her his arm.

  “Why don’t we take a turn and discuss this?” he said, more kindly than before.

  Caroline’s face burned, which she hoped he wouldn’t notice. Her previous sympathy for him drained away, but she took his arm to get away from the curious eyes of other guests. Louie followed at Wolfolk’s side.

  They walked together without speaking for several moments toward a large, leafy tree and stopped near an outcropping of rocks.

  “Since you insist on knowing my personal business, allow me to make an inquiry,” he said.

  Caroline studied at him. He was so tall compared to her. She fought the urge to back away. Or move closer. Neither was appropriate.

  “If Miss Featherton and I do speak, and we do suit well enough, then what? We join together in matrimony and live happily ever after?”

  He looked at her again with those eyes, both bored and amused. Damn his arrogant self. What a ridiculous question.

  “Is marriage not a desirable outcome?” she asked.

  “You may know I married a young woman who had since passed. I admit I am not easy to live with.” He paused. “After a year as my wife, she caught a fever and died.”

  Caroline stopped. Why was he telling her this?

  “I do not wish to do that to another young lady. Or to myself. It may be heresy, but perhaps not all adults are meant to be married.”

  It was near heresy at least to hear one of the ton talking like this. A lump developed in her throat, and she tried to swallow it away. His story was tragic. But the hollow look in his eye as he told her so was worse. She knew he had lost his wife, but she had not expected his sadness.

  “But what about heirs?” she asked, feeling her face redden as the obviousness of the answer came to her.

  He shrugged his broad shoulders. “One does not need to marry to produce an heir. Nor be celibate. I’m sure even young ladies are aware of that.”

  What he said was true, but again...rude.

  Then, without warning, tears trickled down her face.

  6

  For pity’s sake, she was crying.

  He hated it when women cried.

  They had barely exchanged three words, and now the lady’s companion had tears running down her face. Wolfolk looked to make certain other guests hadn’t noticed and wondered what he was doing wrong.

  Apparently, everything.

  He pulled a crisp white handkerchief from his inner coat pocket out and held it out to Caroline. Even Louie sat up in front of her.

  She took it and pressed it to her nose for a moment, at the same time, turning away from him so he could not see her face.

  “Please, Miss Holland. I had no intention of making you cry. I do apologize.”

  She wiped her nose right over his family crest on his kerchief. Ah well. He pretended not to notice. She folded it up and held it up to return it.

  “Please keep it. I insist.”

  She dabbed under her eyes with the clean portion of it.

  “No, it’s not you,” she said. Her tears were subsiding
although she still shuddered softly, which Wolfolk at first thought was a sob, but could now tell was actually a hiccup. He stole a look at her shapely figure as the light breeze pressed her dress to her body.

  Caroline’s face was still pink and damp, but she looked more like herself as she wiped his handkerchief to her nose one last time. That was why he hated crying ladies. They seemed so vulnerable, it was all one could do to get them to stop.

  “I’m so sorry for upsetting you,” he said more gently.

  She shook her head. And hiccuped again.

  “Please excuse me. It’s just our travel here has been long, and your story. I’m sorry. It must have been very sad for you.”

  Sad? He turned the word over in his brain. He hadn’t thought of his marriage as sad. It had been miserable and stifling and uncomfortable, but this was the first time he considered that it wasn’t exclusively his fault. But then she did not know the truth.

  Her tears were dried.

  “I am sorry for your pain. It must have been very difficult to lose for your wife so young,” Caroline said. “And now here we are, expecting you to court someone else.”

  She thinks my marriage was happy. Because he had never said otherwise. He wondered if he should tell her the truth: that his marriage was an unhappy stalemate between two people who quarreled often and had no understanding of each other. He could never reveal that. She would think him a monster. For who, but a monster, would feel relief that their young bride was gone?

  She pitied him as a tragic widower. Not who he really was: a flawed man who got out of an imperfect marriage by a tragic stroke of fate. If one could call it that.

  No, better to reveal nothing.

  Caroline wasn’t really crying due to the earl’s story, although it was quite sad. The tears that he took for his wife’s death were actually those of pent up frustration. She was exasperated with Nelly, who was being haughty and uncooperative and brazenly playing the coquette with an upstart about who she knew nothing. Wolfolk acted as though he didn’t want a wife, which would make marrying him off to Nelly difficult. Finally, she was warm, and the air was growing increasingly humid even under her light muslin. Wolfolk just happened to be in the line of fire.