Lord to Love Again: A Sweet and Clean Regency Romance

by Grace Sellers

  As he stepped under the staircase, he heard voices of women on the stairs retreating to their bedchambers. One low voice stopped him short. It was Caroline's. He strained to hear better.

  “Yes, I've wanted to discuss terms of my employment with you as well,” he heard her say.

  Mrs. Featherton’s voice, louder and higher, spoke next.

  “As you’ll recall, you were employed to accompany Nelly in the hopes she makes a precipitous match.”

  Christ, that woman. Alexander opened the cabinet. He spied the cognac bottle in the back, behind some books and ledgers.

  “You also recall then that the ideal match was to be Wolfolk,” Mrs. Featherton said.

  He heard his name and froze. He cringed at its use in nakedly ambitious circumstances. He was not surprised, however. No doubt his name was bandied about by many mamas on the marriage market since he became a widower. But he hadn’t expected it from Caroline. He listened closer.

  “Yes,” Caroline said quietly.

  “As that has changed, the conditions of your employment have changed as well. You were to help Nelly land Wolfolk, a man with a title. That did not occur, so I will not pay you the original amount we decided upon.”

  Caroline said something he could not make out then.

  Alexander paused, quieting his breath so he could hear better.

  “Nelly, it seems has an agreement with Sutherland, an untitled man. Obviously, of course, you will not be getting the extra amount promised if she landed the earl.”

  Anger rose in Alexander’s gut. His name, his title was thrown around as though he were a horse to be bet on in a race. And Caroline was part of this scheme. His stomach turned.

  “Affections cannot be purchased. Nelly's affections are engaged elsewhere,” Caroline said.

  “You're paid to do a job, which has not been completed. Therefore you will not be paid for it. It is that simple.”

  So Mrs. Featherton was wheedling out of her deal with Carolyn. He despised that woman.

  “I will give you five pounds so that you may get home safely if you stay through and help Nelly with an engagement announcement to be given this week at dinner. I believe that is more than fair. You've had a lavish month in a fine home and enjoyed the company well beyond your station. That is compensation enough.”

  He heard Caroline try to argue this point, she had no power, and so the decision was Mrs. Featherton’s.

  Alexander grasped the bottle and closed the cabinet door. He could see Caroline’s worry for money was very real. But then Caroline was a party to the scheme to marry him off. He couldn't trust anyone. He grasped the bottle and closed the cabinet, swearing to himself.

  Sutherland was still talking to Stanwyck inside his office. He set the bottle on the desk, helped himself to a glass, and poured a hearty amount.

  “Yes, of course. I’m delighted to hear it,” Stanwyck told Sutherland, eyeing Alexander as he walked in.

  “You may want to pour two more of those,” Stanwyck said. “Sounds like we have reason to celebrate.” He gestured toward Sutherland.

  “An incomparable has been conquered,” Sutherland said, a satisfied smirk on his face.

  A sudden, violent urge erupted in Alexander, and he desperately wanted to punch Sutherland—or someone—in the face. But he held himself back. Because he was a gentleman.

  “What a romantic way of stating it,” Alexander said dryly, downing his brandy.

  Caroline felt as though she held their breath the entire time Mrs. Featherton talked. Only after Nelly's mama turned to walk away did her senses return and she realize she was being swindled. Panic flashed through her.

  “Ten pounds,” she said, more loudly than she meant to, surprising both Mrs. Featherton and herself.

  Mrs. Featherton looked back at her, an eyebrow tilted upward. “Pardon?”

  “Ten pounds,” Caroline said again, this time more clearly. Her heart beat in her chest. “You want me to stay on through her engagement party. Ten pounds.”

  Mrs. Featherton’s mouth twitched.

  “Six,” Mrs. Featherton said after a dramatic inhalation.

  “Eight,” Caroline said.

  Mrs. Featherton huffed to herself, clearly unamused at being challenged.

  Caroline stood taller. She knew a few pounds made no difference to Mrs. Featherton, but it did to her, and more importantly, she was tired of being taken advantage of.

  Mrs. Featherton smiled sweetly at Caroline, but there was a hint of meanness around her eyes.

  “My, don't you have gumption?” She said gumption as though she meant leprosy.

  Caroline shrugged, not caring it could be considered poor manners.

  “All right. Eight pounds, it is. But you'll get nothing if the engagement is called off. For any reason.”

  Mrs. Featherton glanced coldly toward her and then walked away. Caroline’s heart beat in her chest in what felt like a triumphant moment. She'd only won herself three additional pounds. She told herself to calm down, it was barely a victory, but she walked up the extra flight of stairs to her bedroom—in the servant’s chambers—with a lighter heart.

  Alexander awoke the next morning determined to leave Howsham for London. He'd had enough of scheming mamas and chaperones for a while, he decided.

  “An engagement party? How fun!” Lady Stanwyck’s voice rose from the breakfast room as Alexander entered it. He was tired, not having slept well, and rose later than usual, but the strong scent of coffee and bacon beckoned him.

  “Finally awake, eh?” Stanwyck said, pointing his fork at Wolfolk.

  Louie, who had been lying nearby, jumped up and wagged his tail happily to see him.

  Lady Stanwyck grasped a teacup in front of her. “Did you hear the news, Wolfolk? We’re to have a dinner to announce Sutherland and Miss Featherton’s engagement.”

  Lady Stanwyck beamed at him from her seat at the table while Lord Stanwyck chewed a piece of bacon next to her. His eyebrows rose, and he shrugged to confirm it.

  His head felt as though it had been overstuffed last night. And not with intelligent thoughts.

  “I was actually considering returning to London soon,” Alexander said, coughing into his hand.

  “No!” both Stanwycks said at the same moment.

  Good lord, but they were a united pair.

  Alexander piled food onto his plate and looked at them both with surprise.

  “I had no idea my absence was so devastating. But I think you've had me underfoot for long enough.”

  Lady Stanwyck smiled sweetly. “Oh, please stay a few more days for the party. Your presence will help give credibility to the match, and we’ve barely enough men for dancing as it is.”

  Alexander sighed and sat down at the table. “As I rarely dance, I’m not sure how that could be so.”

  “I’ve seen you dance a few times, well, at least once. You’re a competent enough trotter,” Stanwyck said.

  Alexander managed a smile. “It’s not ability that I lack. It’s the desire.”

  “You don’t enjoy dancing?” Lady Stanwyck asked.

  Of course, she wouldn’t understand. She was a graceful female. For her, dancing was movement and joy and a chance to be admired. For him, it meant choosing an appropriate female partner and being watched by everyone in the room.

  “I don’t mind dancing. It’s being judged that I loathe. I try to dance as little as possible.”

  “I’ve seen you dance willingly.” She sipped her tea as though she had a secret. “With Miss Holland.”

  Stanwyck pointed his fork at Alexander again and laughed loudly as though he’d caught him doing something.

  “Ha, she’s got you there.”

  Alexander felt himself frown. He thought he had gotten away with that without notice. He sighed wearily.

  “I danced once with Miss Holland. Out of pity for a spinster.” Alexander took a bite of eggs, trying to think of a way to distance himself from her. “She had no partners. I didn’t realize my chari
ty would open me to censure.”

  Across the table from him, Stanwyck gestured with his fork as though he was slicing his throat, his mouth open in an ‘O,’ and Lady Stanwyck rose suddenly from her seat. Only then did Alexander realize that behind him, someone had entered the room. He didn’t have to look to know who it was.

  His heart sank.

  “Good morning,” he heard Caroline say curtly as she picked up a plate and helped herself to the buffet.

  “Good morning,” Lady Stanwyck offered, too brightly.

  Wolfolk’s heart banged in his ears. Oh, dear God.

  “Miss Holland, I meant only that…”

  Caroline’s mouth turned up in a brittle, unconvincing smile.

  “Please do not apologize, my lord. I know exactly what you meant,” she said icily.

  For a long moment, no one said anything.

  Then the door swung open again, and Nelly and her mama bustled into the room, discussing ribbons.

  For the first time ever, he was grateful for their divertingly loud presence.

  “You must have blue ribbons to bring out your eyes, my dear,” Mrs. Featherton said.

  “But Samuel said the pink ones match my cheeks,” Nelly replied crossly.

  Alexander stood and nodded to each woman. Caroline didn’t meet his gaze.

  He swallowed the lump in his throat and sank into his chair.

  He hadn’t meant to insult her, and he certainly didn't dance with her out of pity, even though he said it. But then she schemed to have him married, and he was done with strangers plotting his life.

  Lady Stanwyck grasped his hand. “Please stay for the party. It would mean so much to us.” Her eyes were large and liquid, both affectionate and forgiving. He'd always had trouble saying no to her. He looked at Stanwyck, who nodded solemnly in agreement. He did owe them that, after all.

  He patted Louie’s head as the dog curled on his feet. At least he had one friend here. So he made an ass out of himself to Caroline. He wanted to apologize to her privately, but the fact was he knew he didn't need to. He was an earl, and she was, well, virtually no one; he didn't have to apologize for anything. But he wanted to.

  Unable to sit at the table with Caroline any longer, he finished his breakfast and excused himself. Louie followed him from the room, loyal to the end, which only made him feel worse.

  22

  Nelly desperately needed ribbons as she told everyone at breakfast.

  As a matter of fact, she said it was practically a miracle she had gone this long without new ones.

  Caroline seriously doubted it met the criteria of miraculous in the biblical sense, but she didn't say so. Still stung by Alexander's comments, she sat quietly and ate breakfast. She had hoped she might be able to stay home and not travel to the village with everyone else. However, Mrs. Featherton insisted she attend as her chaperone.

  Fortunately, Wolfolk wouldn’t be there as he was unlikely to attend a ribbon shopping expedition, she told herself. Then Sutherland announced he and Wolfolk were going riding. Small mercies.

  The maid helped her into her day dress and tied her hair up simply. She didn't want to be at Mrs. Featherton’s beck and call, but she could enjoy the walk at least. The day was cool and overcast, a perfect day for walking. A wind blew from the fields and seemed intent on pulling down strands of Caroline’s hair.

  Several of the guests were on the front drive with their personal servants, and even a small carriage to carry back the packages and any tired children. Lady Stanwyck’s two eldest chased their cousins around the carriage as it was prepared.

  Caroline concentrated on the village homes they passed as they entered town. The walls of the cottages were honey-colored, their roofs a pretty gray and black against the rolling hills.

  “Miss Holland,” Mrs. Featherton called from the carriage as she passed by Caroline, who was walking at the rear of the group. “Nelly wishes to go to Scott’s Millinery. Would you accompany her there and I will join you shortly?”

  Caroline nodded, content at least she wasn’t trapped in a carriage on a fine day.

  As she walked, she turned over Alexander's words in her head. He called her a spinster and said she lacked dancing partners, which technically were both true. But it was how he said it, as though he was clearly trying to drum up an excuse to dance with her because it was below him. He was the one who asked her to dance. She remembered how they stood outside at the ball and how he looked at her. She knew some things, including the look of desire in a man's eye. She’d felt it too. She may not be smart enough for London society, but she wasn't an elderly crone just yet either. She knew he’d wanted her.

  Scott’s Millinery displayed a pretty ruffled dress in the window as well as books and crisply wrapped boxes. Caroline followed Nelly into the store.

  “I'm looking for your finest pink ribbons,” Nelly said to the store clerk. Alice carried Jezebel on her leash, and the other girls crowded around. Nelly only just arrived and already the clerk perspired. Poor man.

  “Of course.” He reached up and pulled down ribbons dangling from a display. “These are very popular.”

  She shook her head. “Pink ribbons. These are salmon.” Her lips settled in a pout.

  The sales clerk nodded again and hurried to the back room for more ribbons.

  Nelly rolled her blue eyes dramatically as he walked away, and the other girls laughed.

  Caroline drifted towards other displays, examining delicate ear bobs, intricate bracelets, and pearlized hair combs. She moved to a display of silver hairbrushes in front of the window. She touched the handle, wondering what it must be like to be able to brush your hair such a beautiful brush every day. Did it ever become not special for the owner? With her fingers, she traced the elegant silver etchings on the brush handle.

  Shoppers and villagers passed by the front window. In the street in front of them, Nelly's mama slowly descended from her carriage. Behind that, a group of male riders came walked by on horseback. Caroline paused and peered out at the men, squinting for a better view.

  Her heart sank.

  It was Wolfolk and Sutherland riding into the village. She exhaled sharply.

  He looked very handsome. From his glossy boots to his smart gray riding coat, he was every inch the proper earl. She caught herself biting her lower lip. Even now, after calling her a spinster, he provoked a school girl’s reaction in her. Hopefully, he wouldn't stop and he’d never notice Caroline in the store window.

  She used her hidden location to study him. He was a fine male specimen, she had to admit, particularly on horseback.

  A boy named Adam, one of the younger Stanwyck cousins unexpectedly ran out in the streets and nearly in front of their horses.

  Wolfolk and Sutherland halted their mounts and addressed the boy. She couldn't hear them, but she guessed they admonished him for running into the street without looking. She would have done the same thing.

  The boy nodded and look sullen. He couldn't have been more than eight or nine and was a slip of a boy in short pants.

  “No, not rose, but a lighter pink,” Nelly’s high voice rose from somewhere behind her. Caroline knew she should turn around and save the poor clerk from the girls.

  Then, a shriek cut through the air. It took Caroline a moment to realize it was a horse. It almost sounded human. Outside, horses were tied to a hitching bar. One of them, a large bay, ears flat on its head, shied at something, pulled back hard and snapped its tether.

  It happened so fast she could barely breathe, let alone move.

  When its tie snapped, the horse bolted, creating a dust cloud as it blindly ran toward the street.

  Caroline cried inadvertently and put her hand to her mouth. The other shoppers in the store turned to the window.

  “Loose horse!” someone yelled from the street.

  The horse careened into the back of another and leaped in the other direction. Several people on the street tried to grab its rope but narrowly missed. It galloped toward where
Wolfolk and Sutherland dismounted from their horses.

  At the last moment, the bay pivoted from the men and their horses and straight toward where the boy Wolfolk had spoken to moments before stood.

  “No!” A strangled cry erupted from Caroline’s throat that she didn’t recognize as her own.

  She saw the horse hit the boy slowly, although it was over in an instant. It seemed to take forever for his small body to arc through the air and land in a crumpled heap in the dust.

  Caroline felt stuck to the ground, powerless, her heart thudding in her chest. Finally, her feet moved, and she ran wildly from the store into the bright sunshine in the streets where the boy lay on his stomach.

  The boy’s face turned away from her, his legs crumpled in odd, terrifying positions. A man kneeled over him. She recognized Wolfolk’s gray coat.

  “Is he alive?” she whispered.

  Wolfolk scooped up the boy. Further down the street, someone caught the horse.

  “We must get him to the doctor,” Caroline said. Wolfolk’s face was pale and perspiring.

  “Yes, the doctor,” he repeated, his eyes fixed. It was almost as if he didn’t recognize her. He carried the boy as Caroline raised her hand to hail a cab.

  “Take my cab!” A woman near them called and raised her hand. She opened the cab’s door. Wolfolk didn’t seem to hear it, so she grabbed his arm and steered him to the open cab.

  “Do you know where the closest physician is?” Caroline asked the woman.

  The woman nodded, took in the boy’s condition, and swallowed. “Thirty-nine Elm street. Three blocks north.”

  “Thank you,” Caroline said as Wolfolk scrambled in with the boy, calling out the address to the driver. She expected them to take off clattering down the road, but the door stayed open.

  “Get in!” Wolfolk shouted, and Caroline automatically did, shaking as she sat on the seat. She was surprised he allowed her along. Inside the cab, she saw the boy’s pale face up close, gashes and blood streaked down from his mouth and nose. She tried not to look at the unnatural way his legs dangled. She reached out and pressed her hand gently to the boy’s forehead. He was still warm. Perhaps he wasn’t dead. Yet.