Weddings and Scandals: Regency Romance Collection

by Alec, Joyce

  “I should have left you a spinster, rather than place the burden of your arrogance, your self-indulgence, and your lack of respect on the shoulders of Lord Chaucer,” her father spat, shaking one long finger in Henrietta’s direction. “You have quite failed me in this, Henrietta. Not only me but your husband also, wherever he has gone. Little wonder that he wants to escape from you when you behave with such inconsideration!” So saying, he marched towards the door, flinging it open as he turned his head to glare at Henrietta one last time. “Do not think this is the end of the matter, Henrietta. When your husband returns, there will be consequences for what you have done.”

  The door was slammed shut behind him, leaving Henrietta in a state of shock and dismay. Her breathing was quickening, her fingers twisting together as the weight of her father’s threats slammed down on her again and again.

  “Vile,” she heard someone say. “How utterly despicable to speak in such a way to one’s own child!”

  “Lady Chaucer?” Mr. Newton was by her side in a moment, his hand settling over her shaking ones. “Are you all right?”

  “You did marvelously well, Henrietta!” Charlotte exclaimed, patting her gently on the shoulder and looking down into her face. “You need not fear that you will have such consequences to bear, for you know that none will come. This was the very first step into what will be a life free from demands and dictates. You should be filled with pride over what you have managed to achieve.”

  Henrietta did not feel pride. She felt as though she were slowly being eaten away by guilt, that her body was being ravaged with pain and torment. One part of her wished to rush after her father, wanted to climb into the carriage and beg his forgiveness, whilst the other part wanted to remain right beside Francis, as though he was the answer to all of her trials.

  “Sit, Lady Chaucer,” Francis said gently, guiding her a few steps to her right so that they might sit down together. “Wickton, might you go in search of the whisky? There appears to be none here. And Miss James, a fresh tea tray and some sustenance, I think.”

  Henrietta saw them both quit the room, leaving the door wide open, and felt herself grow weak. Tears burned in her eyes and she blinked them back quickly, not wanting to turn into a watering pot in front of Francis.

  “You were afraid of him.”

  It was a statement and not a question, and all Henrietta could do was nod.

  “He wanted you to reside with him, then.”

  Another nod.

  “But you refused?”

  Looking up into Francis’ face, Henrietta took in the warmth of his expression, the gentleness of his eyes. “I tried,” she said hopelessly. “But I almost failed entirely.”

  Francis shook his head fervently, grasping her hands a little tighter in the two of his. “But you did not fail, Lady Chaucer. You succeeded.”

  “But what if my father is correct?”

  She watched him steadily, seeing his frown of confusion.

  “What do you mean, Lady Chaucer?” he asked, his hands still gentle on hers. “Of what are you speaking?”

  Finding that she was unable to hold his gaze given the deep intensity lingering in his eyes, Henrietta looked away. “What if I have done nothing but bring shame to my father? What if I am not the lady of quality whom I have always tried to be? What if I do not deserve to have the freedom I have longed for, because my judgment is so poor and because I am so lacking?”

  “Never.”

  Her breath rushed from her lungs as she looked up, jumping a little at the vehemence in Francis’ voice. His face was closer to hers now, his breath rushing over her cheeks and filling her with a reassurance that she did not quite know what to do with.

  “You must never allow yourself to believe what has been spoken to you by someone who does not care for you in any way whatsoever.”

  Francis’ words were sharp, yet she knew that they came from a place of concern.

  “We have known one another but a few days and yet I have seen you delve into your very heart and soul and find the strength you have needed. I have seen you do all you can to ensure that you have safety, that you are not brought into a guilt you do not deserve.” A small, slow smile began to spread across his face. “And you have allowed yourself to trust myself, Lord Wickton, and Miss James, even though you do not know us particularly well at all. That, I would say, is evidence of your wisdom, of your internal whisperings that help guide you. You have known you could trust us and so you have allowed yourself to do so. My dear Lady Chaucer, if your father is anything like your husband, then you deserve nothing if not the freedom that has been held from you for so long. All you need do is allow yourself to believe it.”

  Henrietta let out her breath slowly, feeling her stomach swirling with something altogether new. It was taking away her fear and replacing it with something akin to excitement and anticipation. The way Mr. Newton spoke to her was so tender and compassionate that she oft found herself near to tears, but now, as she looked into his face, Henrietta found herself beginning to fill with a desire that sent warmth all through her. Warmth that sent heat into her cheeks, that rushed up her arms as his fingers caressed hers for a moment.

  What was this? What was it she felt, and where had it come from after only a few days’ acquaintance?

  “I am sorry for what my father said,” she stammered, not wanting to reveal any of what she felt to Francis himself. “He insulted you and that was most unfair.”

  Francis laughed, lifted her hands to his, and kissed the back of one. Burning heat spiraled up her arm and directly into her heart, her stomach tightening with yet more incomprehensible delight.

  “You need not apologize on his behalf, Lady Chaucer. I have endured a good deal worse than that particular insult, I must admit!” He smiled and let go of her hands, hearing footsteps and the murmur of voices approaching. “Just so long as you are well and you are content, then I shall be happy.”

  “I am,” Henrietta said at once, meaning every word. “Despite the confusion as regards my husband, despite the mystery and the danger, I find myself to be increasingly content with the company that surrounds me. I have never experienced anything of the like before and it has brought such joy that I feel the fear and the dread running from me like water.”

  Francis smiled, his eyes seeming to glow as he held her gaze steadily. “Then I hope that we can spend a good deal more time in each other’s company in the days to come, Lady Chaucer,” he said softly. “For I would like to further our acquaintance, if it is not too bold to state aloud.”

  Henrietta did not care that her cheeks were aflame, keeping a hold of Francis’ gaze and allowing it to breathe life and hope into her soul. “I should like that also, sir,” she replied, seeing his delighted smile and finding her own tugging at her lips.

  Francis got to his feet just as Lord Wickton and Miss James reappeared, although he did not look away from her. “Then I shall make sure to call upon you tomorrow, Lady Chaucer,” he said warmly. “And I find that I am looking forward to that time already.”

  8

  Ten Days Later

  “May I enquire as to how you are faring this fine day, Lady Chaucer?”

  Francis grinned as Lady Chaucer flushed red as she rose to greet him. He was well aware of what was growing between them, but he often found it more than a little amusing that he could bring such a blush to her cheeks merely with the simplest of remarks.

  “I am in perfect health, I thank you,” Lady Chaucer replied with a brilliant smile in his direction. “Although I hear that today, you wish me to speak to my butler?” The smile faded slightly as she resumed her seat, clearly a little agitated over the fact that Francis wished her to return to the house.

  “Indeed,” Francis said gently, sitting down opposite her, glad that Miss James and Lord Wickton had agreed to give them a few minutes alone together. “Nothing has occurred this last week now, has it?”

  “No,” Lady Chaucer agreed, although her blue eyes were lit with anxiety.
“I have been quite safe residing with Charlotte and Wickton.”

  Francis nodded. “And I have been glad that you have found such contentment here, but the situation cannot continue indefinitely.”

  A cloud passed over Lady Chaucer’s face. “You think I am overstaying my welcome?”

  “No! No, absolutely not!” Francis gestured wildly, irritated with himself for his lack of careful consideration over his words. “You mistake me entirely, Lady Chaucer.”

  “Henrietta, please.”

  Her request stopped him short, the words dying on his lips as he stared at her.

  “Unless you think me most inappropriate,” Lady Chaucer continued, her eyes now darting from here to there with evident concern that he thought her improper for suggestion such a thing. “It is only that we have become very firm friends in the fortnight we have known each other and I thought…”

  Francis held up one hand, stopping her stumbling words. “Forgive me, Henrietta,” he said, putting a slight emphasis on her name. “I was simply a little overcome with the suggestion, that is all. It means a great deal to me that you would allow me such considerations.”

  Henrietta blushed furiously all over again, although Francis did not miss the smile that caught her lips. His mind and heart were entirely caught up with her, it seemed, for he could barely remove her from his thoughts of late, and found, much to his surprise, that he had no wish to do so, either.

  But still, she was married to Lord Chaucer in society’s eyes, and unless they could determine what had occurred with the fellow’s body, then there would never be anything of substance between himself and Lady Chaucer. He could never take her as a wife, as he wished to.

  The matter had to be brought up once again.

  “I think, Henrietta, that we must return to the townhouse and conduct a quick search of your husband’s bedchamber,” he said, returning to the matter at hand. “If you will talk to and distract the butler, then Lord Wickton and I have every intention of searching the study and the bedchamber. My only fear is that they will be locked.”

  Much to his surprise, Henrietta shook her head. “No, I think not, Francis.” For a moment, he feared that she was about to refuse him altogether, only for her to smile at him.

  “I think I shall state very clearly to my husband’s staff that I am to look through my husband’s things in his bedchamber, whilst you and Lord Wickton are to examine the study. I do not care if he protests, I must be seen to be doing all I can to find my husband, seeing as there is very little assistance from anyone else.”

  A grin crossed Francis’ face, more than delighted to see this stronger character emerging slowly from within Henrietta. Ever since she had taken the step of refusing to give in to her father’s dictates, he had seen her grow in courage. That was evidencing itself now.

  “I think, mayhap, the lack of interest in Lord Chaucer’s disappearance shows the sort of gentleman society considered him to be,” he replied carefully. “You know as well as I that he was not well liked. When I look back, I cannot quite recall what it was that made me attend the wedding breakfast. Although, I must say now that I am more than glad I did so.”

  “As am I.” Their eyes met and held for some moments, filling Francis with a hope that one day soon, he might be able to take her in his arms and declare his growing affection for her. It could not be done when she was, as society saw it, still wed to another. But there had to be something that would soon come to light that would allow Lord Chaucer to rest in his grave and Henrietta to move into a happier, brighter future.

  “When are we to leave?” Henrietta asked, interrupting his thoughts although there was a warmth in her eyes that he knew came from what her heart was saying. “And what is it that I should be looking for precisely?”

  Forcing his mind back to the task that lay before them, Francis tried to explain.

  “There must be a reason for your husband’s death, as well as the reason that you were pushed into a place of responsibility. Someone filled your brandy with laudanum or the like, hoping that you would drink it quickly in order to gather your courage for the night’s events.” He saw her look away and reached out to press her hand. “There was no shame in doing such a thing, Henrietta, so do not think that you have my judgment. I well understand.”

  He waited until she looked back at him, until a small smile appeared on her lips, before continuing.

  “Therefore, we must search for anything that might lead us to the person responsible. There may be letters of some kind, angry or otherwise. There may be debts that have not yet been paid. Mayhap there was the threat of a duel, I cannot say. If anything looks pertinent, then I would suggest that you take it back to Lord Wickton’s townhouse, where we might peruse it at our leisure.”

  Henrietta nodded slowly, understanding coming across her face. “Very well. I quite understand. Shall we depart now?”

  “Now?” A little surprised at her eagerness, Francis remained sitting as Henrietta rose.

  “Certainly, I see no reason to delay. I wish to have an end to this mystery, Francis. It is my greatest wish.”

  He nodded and got to his feet. “Then we shall go at this very moment. Let me call the carriage.”

  * * *

  Francis had to admit that the way Henrietta dealt with the hapless butler brought a smile to his face. He watched the man as he stammered and stuttered about allowing two gentleman into his master’s study, but Henrietta remained entirely unmoving.

  “I must know where my husband has gone to,” she said firmly. “Now, open the study for Lord Wickton and Mr. Newton, and I myself will search the bedchamber. I presume you will have no great concern over Lord Chaucer’s wife casting an eye over the master’s things.”

  “No, no, my lady,” the butler stammered, going a little red as Henrietta arched an eyebrow. “I would be glad to have the rooms opened for you. Now, if you will excuse me, I shall have both rooms opened at once.”

  “Very good.” Henrietta shot a quick smile towards Francis as the butler hurried away, her shoulders slumping just a little. It reminded Francis that, as far as Henrietta was concerned, this was nothing more than an act, something that seemed to take a good deal of strength from her. He prayed that, in time, she would realize that she had a good deal of fierceness in her spirit that could help her to stand up against anyone and anything.

  “I think I have done as you asked,” Henrietta murmured, as the butler hurried away. “I myself am still not entirely certain what it is you hope to find, Francis, but I shall conduct a thorough search regardless.”

  Francis smiled at her, thinking that the light in her eyes made her whole expression brighter. He marveled at the change in her demeanor these last two weeks, finding her to be a truly wonderful creature who had endured so much and yet had continued to fight back against the weights thrown over her.

  Little wonder, then, that his heart was so full.

  “I am certain that we will find something of value,” he said quickly. “We must discover an avenue of some sort, else Lord Chaucer may be gone from us for the rest of your days, Henrietta, and I do not think I could bear that.” He had not meant to speak so plainly but the truth came from his lips before he could prevent it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lord Wickton raise an eyebrow, a broad grin settling on his face, whilst Henrietta blushed scarlet, her eyes darting to the floor.

  “Forgive me for speaking so… openly,” he murmured, a little embarrassed. “I do hope you understand my meaning, although I did not wish to bring you any mortification.”

  “You did not.” Henrietta looked up at him, a small smile dancing about her mouth. “And the truth is, I should be greatly saddened if we did not find something, either. I should not like to remain the married but alone ‘Lady Chaucer’ for the rest of my days.”

  Francis saw the way her eyes seemed to glow with happiness, the unspoken truth still nothing more than a whisper between them, and knew that Henrietta understood all that he felt. The urge to take h
er in his arms, to hold her close and press a kiss to her brow was growing steadily, to the point that Francis had to force himself to turn away.

  “I think the butler will have opened the study by now,” he said, clearing his throat. “Wickton, shall we?”

  Lord Wickton was still grinning merrily, his eyes dancing. “I suppose we should, yes,” he said, laughing. “Unless you wish to remain here and continue to discuss such things with Lady Chaucer?”

  Francis felt heat climb up his spine, feeling it blossom into his face and neck. “As much as I would like to do so, I fear we would be distracted from our aim,” he stated, trying not to allow his embarrassment to show. “Lady Chaucer—Henrietta, I mean, will you be quite all right searching Lord Chaucer’s bedchamber alone? I could join you, or Lord Wickton could—”

  “I shall be quite content, I assure you,” Henrietta interrupted, her cheeks still dusted with pink. “After all, it is not as though I am afraid that my husband will reappear and demand to know what it is I am doing searching through his things.” The smile faded entirely, her expression now downcast. “I do hope that we find something of use. Do excuse me.”

  Francis watched as Henrietta turned to climb the staircase, feeling his heart go with her. It was exceedingly foolish to feel such a way when they would only be separated for a few minutes—an hour at most—but his heart still felt the loss.

  “You are quite caught up with the lady, are you not?” Lord Wickton commented with a smile, as they began to make their way towards the study. “Not that I think it to be anything to be laughed at, of course. She has begun to blossom into something quite lovely, I think.”

  “Indeed,” Francis murmured, as Lord Wickton pushed open the study door, leaving the butler to stand, helplessly, outside. “I will not pretend otherwise. I cannot pretend otherwise! It is becoming all the more clear to me with every day that passes.”

  “Clear?” Lord Wickton replied, shooting Francis a sharp glance. “Does this mean that you have quite rejected my sister entirely, then? And here I had hoped that her hard work, her devotion, and her kindness over the last few days would have done something to that hardness of heart that you so often have displayed towards her.”