Lord to Love Again: A Sweet and Clean Regency Romance

by Grace Sellers

  Referring to her as “my dear” caused energy to shoot through her.

  Oh, kissing thoughts again.

  “Shall I ring for your maid?”

  “No, no.” Caroline shook her head. “No need to wake her up. I’ll see myself to… sleep.” She was going to say “to bed,” but it occurred to her that discussing her bed with him was not proper conversation.

  Alexander made a show of strolling over to her and holding his arm out for her to take.

  “What a gentleman.”

  “I am that. Are you quite all right to walk?”

  She nodded and giggled.

  “Of course, I can walk.”

  Why was everything so funny?

  “I’d say you’re deep in cups, Miss Holland.”

  “Oh, don’t say that. It sounds so common.”

  “For many people, it is a frequent occurrence.”

  “Not for you?” Caroline asked.

  “I’ve had my share, but I find my life is easier when I don’t overdo.”

  Caroline nodded.

  “Very wise.”

  He led her out of the dining room, and Caroline had to walk quickly to keep up with him.

  Her eyes kept sneaking back to Wolfolk’s long legs striding just in front of her.

  In particular, his muscular thighs.

  His hips were narrow, and—dear God—she noticed his bottom was tight.

  And high.

  And rounded.

  It had a lovely rhythm as he walked. Left boot stepped, his right cheek tightened prettily under the tails of his coat. Then, the right one had the same effect on the other side. She watched for a while, mesmerized. Left boot, then right.

  She should not be thinking of these things.

  “What are you doing?” he stopped and said to her after a moment. “Why are you walking like that?”

  “I’m trying to keep up with you, my lord.”

  “Please, call me Alexander. And stop that. Walk normally.”

  Her heart thudded at the informality of his first name as he walked ahead.

  They walked down the hall to the staircase and then slowly ascended the steps so Caroline wouldn’t slip. She took his arm as they walked. Walking with her arm tucked into his was the most perfect moment of her life so far.

  And it was nearly over already.

  The bedchamber door stood in front of them, the hallway was empty.

  This was the perfect place for a goodnight kiss.

  Caroline positioned her feet underneath her and stood up as tall as she could.

  She glanced at his amused, handsome face. She closed her eyes, pursed her lips, and leaned toward him so that he could kiss her properly.

  She waited.

  And waited.

  “Miss Holland…”

  She heard her name and opened one eye.

  He still smiled, but he was not kissing her.

  “I think we have different ideas of how to end the evening,” he said and cleared his throat gently.

  “Oh,” Caroline instantly saw he was not going to kiss her and straightened up.

  Then she hiccuped so loudly that it echoed in the hall and nearly caused her to lose her balance.

  “Oh,” she covered her mouth with her hand, mortified.

  He bent his head and shook with laughter.

  “I’m so sorry. That was terribly indelicate of me,” she said.

  Caroline still held her hand over her mouth and steadied herself again. What must he think of her now?

  He still laughed until he had to wipe his eyes.

  It wasn’t that funny.

  “I would expect nothing less from the woman who beat the Snapdragon!”

  He was laughing at her.

  She had been ready to kiss him. Again. He must think she was vulgar and ill bred. And terribly forward.

  Which were actually accurate in this case.

  And, even worse, he didn’t want to kiss her back.

  Tears burned behind her eyes.

  She backed away and turned her face so he couldn’t see her.

  He stopped laughing and straightened up. “Caroline...”

  No, she’d had enough humiliation for one day.

  For one lifetime.

  She wanted to disappear.

  Everyone else had been right: her brother, Nelly’s mother, the guests at Stanwyck’s house party. She was a lowly companion who threw herself at men. She was vulgar and crass, and it was no wonder her family tumbled from its lofty station. She never belonged there in the first place.

  Her cheeks burning, she pushed open the door and slipped inside her dark room, closing it in his horrible, laughing face.

  She never wanted to see him again.

  And now she’d have to see him for at least the next several days, at least.

  But she didn’t have to talk to him.

  She pressed her back against the hard wooden door and decided that she’d ignore him for the rest of the trip. That was the only way to maintain her dignity, whatever little she had left.

  She dabbed at the tears that pricked her eyes and inhaled to calm herself. Even in the dark, she could see the outline of her ridiculous bosom rising and falling.

  Oh, she was an idiot.

  She could see it all now.

  He must have thought she tarted herself up in Nelly’s dress for dinner and threw herself at him like a common strumpet to kiss him.

  Then he laughed at her.

  Lord knows what else he imagined she might have let him do.

  Her face burned with shame.

  She pulled the dress over her head and left it in a muslin puddle on the floor. She jerked at the petticoat lacings and stepped out of it as well.

  In the dim light, she saw the outline of Mrs. Ruffalo’s body sleeping in her bed. At least she wasn’t awake to view her humiliation.

  Caroline hiccuped again and silently crossed the room in the dark and in her haste, banged her foot on a solid piece of furniture. She nearly cried out but instead cursed silently.

  She groped her way to the bed and peeled back the covers, easing her way onto the bed. Tears burned in her eyes then and pulled the blankets up to her chin.

  One moment Caroline had been there, standing in front of her door.

  Then, a moment later, she was gone. It was almost as though she’d disappeared into a puff of lemon-scented air.

  But he’d seen her face as she pushed against the door, and heard the creak of it as it closed.

  Alexander couldn’t decide what to think about Caroline.

  For most of the evening, he had a very nice time dining with Mrs. Ruffalo and her. Even more so after the older woman retired. Caroline was intelligent and agreeable. Her talk of her upbringing reminded him of his childhood memories. She was raised not very differently from himself before her family took its social and financial tumble. The worst part was, it was different for men. He knew plenty of school chums whose families had similar falls from grace who stayed in his social circle. People knew they were in debt, but no one ever talked about it. Even if a man had to take work, it was considered respectable. Not so for a woman who had to work, who’s only options were governess and companion.

  Caroline was kind, pretty, and interesting. She was even so clever as to make fun of their previous kiss and pretend she was ready for another one.

  Then suddenly, she appeared upset and disappeared.

  A cold sensation gathered in his stomach.

  Maybe she hadn’t been joking.

  Despite the melodramatic flourishes, he now realized she had too much to drink, and she’d been hoping, maybe even expecting another kiss.

  And he’d laughed at her.

  Blast.

  That’s why she looked so vexed and slammed the door in his face.

  The reality sank in his stomach like quicksand.

  The male part of his brain awoke as he realized what he had missed out on. He twitched with energy in all kinds of places.

  He could
have kissed her.

  She wanted him to kiss her.

  Oh, he was such a fool.

  Even if he could explain his thought process to her and make her understand that he thought she was joking, who would forgive that blunder?

  No young woman he could imagine.

  There had to be a way he could make up for.

  He racked his brain, but couldn’t come up with a gesture. Not ribbons, not flowers that appropriately said, sorry I laughed when you wanted me to kiss you. Nor could he adequately explain the excitement he felt thinking about it.

  He cringed.

  He was a terrible person, and it was no wonder the incomparable he’d met ran off with a blackguard to elope rather than stay and contemplate marriage to him. Finally, he was tempted to ruin a woman of inferior station. He’d known enough men like that to understand that was not how he wanted to comport his life.

  There was one thing he could do. He could take an appropriate—by which he meant wealthy—wife, settle down, devote his time to improving his ancestral home and make a go at being a productive earl. Remarrying after Eugenie seemed about as appealing as walking down Grosvenor Square in his smalls in high afternoon. But now he could see that being single cast him about, allowing him to make a fool of himself and others.

  If he didn’t, he was going to be a lonely widower for a long, long time.

  Maybe forever.

  Caroline opened her eyes the next morning, then squeezed them shut to block the sunlight, and instantly understood why men cursed alcohol.

  Her head pounded as though a woodpecker were in it.

  She drank champagne before, but never felt like this. Her throat was dry as if she had been chewing cotton, her eyes felt swollen, and her head throbbed as though someone had taken a bayonet to it.

  She squinted open an eye and saw the dim outline of the lady’s maid, bustling across the room. Mrs. Ruffalo was already awake. The sunlight burned against her eyes. Caroline groaned and rolled her face back into the pillow.

  She wanted to die.

  Then she remembered the previous evening.

  Surely utter mortification would kill her.

  “Well, young lady, I do believe it’s time to rise,” Mrs. Ruffalo’s voice came from somewhere in the room.

  Blast and hellfire.

  She lifted her head from the pillow and cracked open her eyes. Sunlight flooded the room, and she saw that the maid was already organizing Mrs. Ruffalo’s bags.

  Unfortunately, her head beat mercilessly.

  She heard fabric rustling near her and saw Mrs. Ruffalo standing, holding a glass of bright juice.

  She set the glass down on the bedside table, and Caroline gratefully reached for it, gulping several hearty swallows.

  Nothing ever tasted so good.

  After a moment, she was able to lift her leaden limbs from the bed and sit up, though the room listed unpleasantly.

  Mrs. Ruffalo was already dressed.

  “I am going down to breakfast. We will see you in a few minutes?” She cocked an eyebrow and fixed her mouth in a near smile. Caroline saw a flash of sympathy.

  She nodded and wiped the sleep from her eyes, grateful she was allowed some privacy in the morning.

  After Mrs. Ruffalo left the room, Caroline stood and staggered to the jug and splashed water on her face. She caught her sleepy, puffy face in the mirror. She looked like a sleep-deprived crone.

  An image of her standing last night, eyes closed, lips pursed, waiting for Wolfolk’s kiss rose in her mind.

  She pressed her damp forehead into her hand.

  How could she face him now?

  Maybe he didn’t know if she wanted to be kissed. Could she simply pretend the whole incident never happened? Perhaps he had been as foxed as she was. Maybe he wouldn’t remember at all.

  Shame rose in Caroline. She sipped more juice and decided there was the only way she would survive today, and it was to pretend it never happened in the first place.

  Downstairs in the breakfast room, Caroline decided she would not make eye contact with Wolfolk when he came down to breakfast. As a matter of fact, she would pretend he didn’t exist altogether. She could make polite conversation with Mrs. Ruffalo, arrange her face in correct expressions, and smile when appropriate, but never look directly at him.

  It was better that way. If she didn’t look at him, she wouldn’t be sucked into admiration for him.

  His lanky, tall figure or crooked, handsome smile.

  Or worse yet, other aspects of his anatomy, particularly those below his belt she was curious about.

  She wondered what was keeping him this morning, as usually, he was an early riser. Maybe he’d drank more than she’d realized.

  Their smaller footman came to them, carrying an envelope. He held it out for Mrs. Ruffalo.

  “Oh, correspondence,” she said, accepting it while she spooned jam on a biscuit. Caroline could see the earl’s wax seal on the back of the letter.

  “It looks like it’s from Wolfolk,” Caroline mused, trying to quell the impulse to immediately rip the letter open and read what it said. She caught herself mindlessly drumming her fingers on the table.

  “Yes, yes,” Mrs. Ruffalo said, setting down her knife and fork and taking a long moment to dab her mouth with her napkin.

  When her fingers were cleaned and wiped, she held up the letter and tried to open it with her hands.

  “Would you like me to try?” Caroline asked, trying very hard not to yell in frustration. She forced herself to smile calmly.

  “Yes, please. Why don’t you read it to me?”

  She broke open the seal and took in his long, neat handwriting.

  Dearest Mrs. Ruffalo & Miss H.-

  Before I left Howsham, I sent letters to military acquaintances in villages to the north, requesting the sighting any couple resembling Sutherland and Miss Featherton to be dispatched to me immediately.

  Based on what I believe to be a credible recommendation, I’m traveling north to investigate a sighting in the village of Darwin. I plan to surprise Sutherland and hold them there until you arrive. You may inquire after me at the Swan Inn.

  Best,

  W.

  Caroline read the letter aloud to Mrs. Ruffalo and sniffed at the part that read, “& Miss H.” Wasn’t she even worthy of a fully spelled last name? Well, she needn’t worry about how to behave in front of him this morning.

  14

  Wolfolk was pleased to be in his saddle by sunrise.

  But he was more pleased to have a chance to replay the previous evening in his head and consider it. It was another balmy, damp day and he and his horse were on the road before the dew had dried on the grass.

  Bloody stroke of genius, composing the letter.

  It allowed him to do two important things at once. He was now closer to finding Sutherland, and—more urgently—it allowed him to put some distance between himself and Caroline.

  The image of her—slightly tipsy with tendrils of hair unpinned around her face, eyes closed and lips pursed—played in his head again and again as he rode along. He still was confused by her actions.

  She wanted to kiss him. He was torn between wanting to protect her from scandalous behavior and the strong tug of lust. It was better if he was away from her. He wasn’t entirely sure how much longer he could withstand the temptation.

  His pulse quickened faster than his horse’s hooves as it galloped through a field.

  But he wouldn’t have.

  Would he?

  He wanted to say no, but honestly, he had kissed her before at the ball. He knew his good sense would likely not stop him again if he found himself in that position.

  He needed to avoid that.

  The sun grew low in the sky as Wolfolk’s horse finally touched the cobblestones of Darwin village. He made good time running his horse as much as he’d dared and then walking her the last hour, but he was finally in the village. Now he just had to find The Swan Inn.

  Darwin was small
and shoddier than he remembered from years past. Dirty, rag-wearing urchins clung to his horse looking for a coin as he made his way in. Although it was a small hamlet, it gained a reputation as an underground gambling den in the last decade. It explained Sutherland’s presence here. Wolfolk shivered with distaste at the place. It was too far to be part of Stanwyck’s land, and Wolfolk wondered what absentee landlord owned and obviously ignored the village.

  “Young sir,” Wolfolk called to a young boy who was petting his horse’s muzzle. “Can you tell me where the Swan Inn is?” He held up a penny for the boy.

  “Yes, m’lord. Just down the main street to your right.” The boy grabbed the penny fast and tipped his hat to Wolfolk in a near perfect imitation of a lordly bow. He wondered where the ragamuffin learned it.

  Wolfolk dismounted his horse and squatted down to the boy’s level, holding another coin.

  “Have you seen a new fancy couple in town today or yesterday? The man is with a very pretty young lady. They both have light hair, like gold.”

  The boy squinted as though he was thinking hard. “Maybe a man fittin’ that description at The Hawk. He’s been sittin’ at games in the back at night. Ain’t seen no lady though.”

  Wolfolk nodded and gave the boy another coin and thanked him. He pulled out a penny for each of the children around him.

  An illicit card game in the back of a public house. That sounded like Sutherland. But was Nelly still with him? If not, where was she?

  The sun dipped under the horizon, reminding Wolfolk it would be dark soon. He needed to check into the Swann and make his interest in a game known at The Hawk.

  The Hawk was run down even by Darwin’s unsavory standards. A fist-sized hole gaped in the ceiling, and the front staircase was missing several banisters, which reminded Wolfolk of an imperfect smile with missing teeth.

  The bald, gaunt man at the front table didn’t look any fancier, and Wolfolk knew he was not the typical guest received there. The man glanced at Wolfolk up and down, taking in his fine clothes and asked what he wanted.

  “I am looking for a card game. I was told to come here.”