Weddings and Scandals: Regency Romance Collection

by Alec, Joyce

  It was only because of Francis Newton that she did not have to face that any longer.

  “He is a remarkable man,” she murmured to herself, recalling how he had smiled at Miss James and finding herself wondering if there was a connection between them. Even the thought sent a stab of pain to her heart, making her eyes close as she took in a long breath to steady herself. That was not something she should even be considering at this present moment, for if her husband was missing and she could not prove that he was gone from the earth, then she would not be freed from her bonds of matrimony. She could not marry again.

  One hand caught the windowsill, helping her to stand upright as she battled against the sudden wave of fear that ran through her. To be left married but alone was a fate she could hardly bear to face—but without her husband’s body, there was no evidence that she was a widow and therefore freed of her marriage bonds.

  “My lady?”

  Her eyes shot open and she turned to see the butler standing in the doorway, a deeply apologetic look on his face.

  Recalling that she was putting on every appearance of strength and fortitude, Henrietta lifted her chin and regarded him without saying a word despite the fact that she was still holding on tightly to the windowsill.

  “My lady, I do apologize, but you did not answer my knock.”

  Henrietta tipped her head just a little.

  “I would not have disturbed you, of course,” the butler continued quickly, “only that Miss James has come to call and insisted upon seeing you.”

  “But of course,” Henrietta replied, gesturing for the butler to step aside. “Miss James is always to be permitted.”

  Miss James entered the drawing room at once, holding her hands out to Henrietta with a deep sympathy entering her voice.

  “My dear Lady Chaucer, has your husband not been found?”

  “No, indeed.” Henrietta sighed heavily as Miss James clutched at her hands. “He has not and I am beginning to become concerned.”

  “As I can well understand!” Miss James exclaimed, taking Henrietta’s hand in her own and leading her to a seat. “Your mind must be greatly troubled.”

  Henrietta sighed again. “Most assuredly, it is.” She glanced at the butler, who was hesitating in the doorway. “Refreshments, at once.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  The moment the butler withdrew, Henrietta let out a sigh of relief and let go of Miss James’ hand.

  “I am very glad you are here,” she said softly. “I did not sleep much at all last evening and find myself growing more and more anxious with each hour that passes.”

  Miss James smiled compassionately. “You need not fear, Lady Chaucer.”

  “Henrietta, please.”

  “Then, I am Charlotte.” Miss James’ smile grew. “You see, I knew we would become dear friends, did I not?”

  Henrietta laughed softly, feeling the burden of loneliness and fear fall from her shoulders. “You did indeed, Charlotte. I confess that I am glad to have you as a friend, for I do not have any save for my sister.”

  Charlotte looked at Henrietta with interest. “Your sister?”

  “Mary,” Henrietta replied. “She is married to Viscount Preston, whom my father believed to be a gentleman with a similar character to his own.” The corner of her mouth caught. “But he fell deeply in love with my sister after they were wed and he is quite transformed.”

  Charlotte smiled, although it turned a little wry. “Might I surmise that your father is not particularly pleased with this turn of events?”

  “Admittedly, you are quite correct,” Henrietta responded, shaking her head. “He was most displeased, which I think may be why he took such great pains over my own marriage. He did not wish me to wed someone that would turn out to be as compassionate and as caring as Lord Preston. My father considers such things to be a sign of weak character.” Her smile faded. “I fear for my mother, for she has become such a shadow that I worry she may one day fade away altogether—although my sister has promised to take her away from my father very soon. She is with child and can use the birth of the babe as an excuse to have my mother near.”

  Charlotte nodded sympathetically. “One’s family can be trying, I will admit. My brother is the only family I have remaining, for both our father and mother have already passed away, but he is quite insistent that I should marry and that it should be someone he has chosen for me.” She laughed and tossed her head, her fair curls bouncing. “Of course, I am much too strong-willed to allow him such a thing. I have quite made up my mind that any gentleman he suggests will be completely ignored.”

  Henrietta pressed her lips together, wondering whether or not she should ask something that might be considered impertinent, only to find the words coming from her before she could stop them.

  “Has your brother suggested Mr. Newton, then?”

  Much to her relief, Charlotte did not look in the least bit offended. “Yes, he has,” she admitted, shaking her head again. “Of course, whilst I find Mr. Newton to be quite a good sort, he is not at all a good match for me. He and I are both equally strong-willed, which means we would end up fighting continually, I am quite sure of it.” She smiled and patted Henrietta’s hand. “I shall find a gentleman of my own choosing, regardless of what my dear brother thinks. And it shall all turn out very well, I am sure.”

  Henrietta made to say more, but a scratch came at the door. Calling for the butler to enter, she turned back to Charlotte, only for an angry voice to reverberate around the room.

  “You ridiculous girl! Have you truly driven your husband away already?”

  Henrietta’s breath froze in her lungs, her eyes fixed on Charlotte as she tried to find some sort of inner strength, and instead found herself entirely lacking.

  “Rise to greet your father.”

  His voice was loud and commanding, sending Henrietta into a flurry of fear and anxiety as she hurriedly got to her feet. Her father, tall and ominous, loomed over her, his brown eyes narrowed into small slits.

  “Father,” she stammered, curtsying. “May I present Miss Charlotte James. Miss James, this is my father, Baron Reapson.”

  “How very good to meet you,” Charlotte murmured, dropping into a curtsy. Her gesture was not returned, for Henrietta’s father made an indistinct noise in his throat, only throwing Charlotte the most cursory of glances before returning his gaze to Henrietta.

  “Where is your husband?”

  Henrietta saw Charlotte move a little closer to her, feeling the support she was offering beginning to chase away her own weakness. She was not to allow herself to shrink before her father, not when he had forced her to do such a thing almost every day of her life. She was a married lady now, and even though it had only been a mere two days since her wedding, she had found friends, compassion, and understanding that she had never had before. It emboldened her, helping her to speak frankly and with a determination not to shirk away from him despite the terror in her chest.

  “I do not know where Lord Chaucer has gone, Father,” she said clearly, lifting her chin and ignoring the shaking in her heart. “I am, of course, doing all I can to seek him out.”

  “It is unpardonable to hear your name and that of your husband’s already being bandied about London with such whispers and rumors over what has become of him!” her father exclaimed, his voice seeming to fill every bit of the room. “This is entirely on your head, Henrietta. You have driven him away by your unwillingness to wed him and your unruly behavior. I have heard that you were giving morning calls the day after your wedding.”

  Henrietta gasped, coloring furiously as her father spoke so harshly and cruelly. “That is not so, Father,” she said, her voice a little louder than a whisper even though she was doing all she could to force strength into her veins. “I married Lord Chaucer because it was what you requested of me. And, while I did visit Miss James the day after my wedding, it was only because Lord Chaucer was nowhere to be found. I was told that he was not to be disturbed.”
Her courage began to take hold the more she spoke. “Lord Chaucer was in your company the last time I saw him.” Her voice was gaining strength now, even though her father appeared to be backing down just a little. “Do you know where he might have gone? As you say, we do not wish for gossip and rumor to overtake my husband’s good name. If there is anything you know that you can tell me, Father, then it would be more than helpful.”

  Her father’s face slowly infused with color, his hands curling into fists as he held them taut at his sides.

  “You are to return with me,” he hissed, leaning closer to her so that his face was only inches from hers. “You will await your husband’s return in the home of your father, so that some respectability might be maintained. I will have your maid pack your things this very moment.”

  Henrietta’s mouth fell open and she stared at her father, her heart beginning to cry out with the simple thought of having to return to his home.

  “Did you not hear me?” he asked, the loudness of his voice making her jump with fright. “Remove yourself and instruct your maid as to what I have told you to do! At this very moment, Henrietta!”

  Making to do as he asked without delay, Henrietta turned on her heel so that she might quit the room, only to see Charlotte glaring at Lord Reapson. In that moment, her world seemed to tilt and shift, the slow realization of what she had been about to do suddenly filling her.

  She had been about to obey her father. Obey him, just as she had always done. Why would she not? He was here and telling her what was expected of her and, just as she had always done, she had been about to make her way to her room, oversee her maid packing her things, and then go to the carriage to await her father.

  Except, she had no need to do so now. She was no longer under her father’s authority. Even though she knew that Lord Chaucer was dead, her father did not and, either way, she did not have to do as she was told any longer. That part of her life was over.

  The look on Charlotte’s face made Henrietta realize, for the first time, just how terribly her father had spoken to her. His demands were unfair, his words harsh and unrelenting. Little wonder that Charlotte found his demeanor distasteful. Why did she not have the very same reaction? Had she really become so numb to the harsh words and the anger that he so often displayed towards her?

  “Henrietta!” Her father’s voice roared around her, her skin prickling with the fear that he used to control her. “Why are you delaying?”

  Henrietta held onto Charlotte’s gaze and drew in a long breath so that she might find a way to steady herself. Charlotte had now removed her gaze from Lord Reapson and was looking at her, a fierceness in her expression that Henrietta had not seen before. She recalled just how determined Charlotte had been about her brother’s interfering with her future and potential marriage and found herself wishing that she had even an iota of her friend’s courage.

  “I—I have already been invited to reside with Miss James for a time,” she said slowly, beginning to turn around to face her father once more. “I must disappoint you, I fear.” She held her breath, blood roaring in her ears as she saw her father’s eyes widen, his mouth falling ajar. Evidently, she had quite shocked him with her refusal to do as he had asked. In fact, she herself was a little shocked with what she had said, astonished that those words had come from her own lips. It was the very first time she had outright refused his demands, and she did not feel the guilt nor the shame that she had expected.

  “I am your father.”

  Those whispered words were like fiery darts flung at her, forcing her to try and defend herself.

  “And I am now a married woman, Father,” she protested, feeling weaker by the moment. “I must do as I think is best. Therefore, I am—”

  “You do not have sound judgment, Henrietta!” her father scoffed, shaking his head at her. “You are but a child and you have always needed me to guide you and lead you through this difficult life. Your judgment has always fallen short of what I have expected and even now, you display such a singular lack of judgement that I am ashamed of you. I wonder if you are even in your right mind!”

  “I am going to reside with Miss James.”

  Henrietta did not know that her voice could be as strong as that of her father’s, gasping in astonishment as she heard the words reverberating around the room. She felt Charlotte clasp her hand tightly for a moment as she came to stand next to her, her support unwavering.

  “I have already made all the arrangements, of course,” Charlotte said lightly, as though she had not heard the disdainful way Lord Reapson had spoken to Henrietta, nor the insulting words that had come from his lips. “You need have no concern over Henrietta’s wellbeing, Lord Reapson. My brother and I will ensure she is kept in comfort until Lord Chaucer is found.”

  Henrietta swayed a little, only just realizing that she had not breathed for some moments. Dragging air into her painful lungs, she forced herself to look directly at her father, knowing that in this moment, she had to make a stand. A stand that would allow her the first glimpses of the freedom she had so often dreamed of.

  “I will not stand for this, Henrietta.” Lord Reapson ignored Charlotte completely, stepping forward and grasping Henrietta by the arm. He began to attempt to drag Henrietta towards the door, but she struggled against him, fear beginning to give her the strength she needed.

  “How dare you even think of disobeying your father’s demands!” Lord Reapson continued furiously. “You have not yet learned what it is to show respect to your father, and now I fear you will dishonor your husband in much the same way!” His fingers clasped her arm a little tighter as Henrietta continued to struggle, Charlotte standing by helplessly. “I will not stand for it, Henrietta! You are not of sound mind if you are speaking to me in such a manner as this! You will come with me now.”

  “No!”

  She wrenched her arm from his with the greatest effort she could muster and, with a scream lodged in her throat, stumbled back towards Charlotte, making sure to put a small table and an overstuffed chair between herself and her father.

  “No, Father,” she said again, her breathing ragged and words tumbling freely from her mouth. “I will not give in. I am Lady Chaucer and therefore, it is under my husband’s guidance that I must remain.”

  “Your husband is not present,” her father grated, trying to draw closer to her, even as Henrietta moved away again, making sure to keep distance between them both. “Therefore, it falls to me to ensure that you are safe and protected, Henrietta.”

  “I can decide for myself, Father, who is most suited to protect me.”

  The words rang around the room just as the door behind her father opened to reveal the apologetic-looking butler. He made to say something, only for Lord Wickton and Mr. Newton to push their way past him and come into the room.

  “Ah, Lady Chaucer,” Lord Wickton said slowly, obviously a little uncertain as to who now stood in the room with both his sister and Henrietta. “I see that my sister has called upon you, just as she said. You are to reside with us, I think.”

  “Yes, yes, I have accepted,” Henrietta replied breathlessly, not looking anywhere other than at Mr. Newton. “Lord Wickton, Mr. Newton, this is my father, Baron Reapson. He has heard news of my husband’s disappearance, of course.”

  “Of course,” Mr. Newton murmured, bowing just as he ought although there was a hardness in his expression that made Henrietta recall that she had spoken to him of her father previously. “It is most distressing, is it not, my lord? Of course, it is quite wonderful that Miss James and Lord Wickton are to take Lady Chaucer to reside with them for some days. Such dear friends already.” He shot a glance towards Henrietta and smiled, allowing her to breathe a little more easily than before. It was going to be quite all right, she realized. She would not have to fall in with her father’s demands. On this occasion, she had managed to stand up for herself and, with the support of her friends, had not been defeated.

  Although Henrietta did not think that this wo
uld be her father’s last attempt to do such a thing.

  Lord Wickton, who had just finished bowing, cleared his throat. “Would you like to join us for dinner, Lord Reapson? And your wife, also?”

  “Dinner?” Lord Reapson barked, as though Lord Wickton had offered him something intolerable. “I hardly think so. I came to call upon my daughter in her time of need and now I see that there is no need to speak of. She is quite content, it seems, to go with those she is barely acquainted with instead of to her own father’s house.” He glared balefully at Lord Wickton and Mr. Newton, his lip curling in disgust. “And one not even titled.”

  Henrietta was seared with embarrassment, her face flooding with color at her father’s slight towards Mr. Newton, who had done so much for her already. She dropped her gaze, wanting to find something to say that would defend Mr. Newton in some way, but found herself without words.

  “As I have stated, Henrietta, your judgment has always been poor,” her father continued, now directing his harsh words towards her. “I find that, even in this case, you have proven yourself to me in that matter.” He sniffed disdainfully, his eyes filled with anger and repulsion over her behavior. Henrietta fought against the guilt that so easily crawled over her, resisting the urge to apologize and do as he asked. It had become such a part of her that it was difficult to go against what had become almost her nature, but she could not allow herself to be so easily manipulated, not any longer.