Regency Brides Series: A Historical Regency Romance Box Set

by Laura Locke

  “Oh! Cornelia. You look...different. Lovely. I have news.”

  As Claudia told her the news from Tolford, Cornelia found herself looking at the door, feeling anxious. Where was Francis? Would he come?

  “Cornelia?” Lucas was at her side.

  “Mm?”

  “I think I should get Hudson to have tea sent up. I'm starving, and so are the fellows. If you think we should?”

  “I think so,” Cornelia nodded. She tried for a look of bored sophistication. She was a lady. Why would it matter to her if a lieutenant hadn't arrived?

  “Very well.” Lucas nodded and the tea arrived, brought in by the footman.

  It was only later, as Cornelia sat with Claudia, Lady Ormonde and Eugenie, a childhood acquaintance, talking about the latest scandals in London, that Hudson announced something.

  “Lieutenant Wescote.”

  Cornelia bit her lip as Lady Ormonde turned to look at the doorway. She cringed, imagining what Alexandra would do if a mere lieutenant arrived half an hour late at a tea party of hers. Then she could hardly think as Francis appeared by her side

  . “My lady?”

  “Yes, lieutenant?” She looked up with a mild expression. She would not allow herself to crack and show feelings for Francis. She would not. Her heart hurt and her breath caught in her throat but she fought it valiantly.

  Francis blinked. “Is this chair occupied?” he asked, indicating the one beside Eugenie, just down from Cornelia.

  “It is.” Cornelia nodded briskly.

  “Well, then.” He drew it out with a confused smile. “Thank you.”

  Lady Ormonde looked at Cornelia with a raised brow; clearly she meant that an introduction was in order. Cornelia coughed.

  “Lady Ormonde, Eugenie, Claudia; this is Lieutenant Francis Wescote. Lieutenant, please meet Lady Ormonde, her daughter the honorable Miss Denham, and Lady Claudia; my friends.”

  “Honored, my ladies.” Francis bowed, then took a seat. He smiled at the four of them with a vaguely-uncomfortable expression on his face and Cornelia could almost read his thoughts, asking her why she was so aloof. Had he done something? Part of her wept,while part of her, the part that was angry, relished it.

  You liked who I was. Meet who I am now.

  Hudson appeared, discreetly filling cups, passing trays of cucumber sandwiches, teacakes. Cornelia concentrated on the little gestures. The way she moved her teacup, the way she sipped.

  Conversation parted around Francis and then regrouped, and soon they were all talking as they had been. They deplored the latest fashions and chuckled about the doings and goings on. Cornelia could see Francis becoming more awkward and she felt relief for him as the party moved through to the drawing-room to listen to Eugenie play the pianoforte.

  “My lady?”

  Cornelia was at the back of the group and he came to join her, his smile stiff.

  “Mm?” She cast the languid look Alexandra had taught her in the direction of the lieutenant and saw him swallow. Good.

  “My lady. It's been a few days since last I saw you. And...” he cleared his throat. “I must confess that was hard. I long wished to...to talk with you.”

  “What about?” she asked. Francis blinked.

  “Um...many things. But first, I must tell you...I have ill news.”

  “Ill news?” Despite all her attempts for a languid indifference, Cornelia felt her heart twist painfully. “Is it something in your family? Something in the troops? What, Francis?”

  He sighed. “Nothing like that. Only...only I must go away, Cornelia.”

  “What?” Cornelia raised her palms to her cheeks, feeling suddenly cold. “Where, Francis?” He was leaving London, leaving her. Maybe he was being sent to the Indies, or the Americas, or...

  “I cannot say. Only that it will not be long. A week, only.”

  “Oh.” Relief made her weak. “That's not so bad.”

  He smiled. “I confess I only find it so because...I'll miss you.”

  Cornelia swallowed hard. She wanted to take his hand and kiss him. Would have done a day previously. They were in the parlor, everyone else was in the drawing-room next door. They were alone. It would be easy – so easy – to kiss him.

  “I shall miss you also,” she said in a small voice. She allowed herself to smile at him. He smiled back. His blue eyes sparkled and he took a step forward, then sighed.

  “My dearest. I cannot tell you how I regret this. I have so few days here with you. Each is precious. But my commander...” he looked at his hands, gripped them.

  “I understand, Francis.”

  When she said his name, he looked up sadly. “I know,” he sighed. “I don't deserve you, Cornelia.”

  Oh, you don't. You deserve so much better. I am being cruel. But I have to be. I owe it to my family not to disgrace them.

  “That's nonsense, Francis,” she said lightly. “And you will return.”

  “I suppose,” he said with a soft smile. “But allow me to say I shall miss you, my dear. Your memory goes with me in my heart, warming me.”

  “Oh, Francis.”

  Cornelia wanted to cry. She knew it would not be long before she saw him again. But the thought of losing him here, now, was too much for her.

  If you leave, then there really will be no point in keeping the old Cornelia. I might as well turn my back on her. Only you truly loved her.

  The thought hurt Cornelia's heart. Not only was she losing Francis for a while; she was also coming closer and closer to losing herself. It was a frightening feeling.

  If I fall into this web of glamor and gloss, if I never get out again, will it matter? The London scene will swallow me up, another fashionable lady like all the others. Would that be so bad?

  With Francis gone, and her last reason for believing in the old Cornelia with him, the answer seemed straightforward. I will become a society lady. What else am I here for, but to become worthy of being swallowed by the mass?

  She kissed Francis and he kissed her back. She clung to him passionately. When he moved back her eyes were damp. He traced the tear with his thumb, blotting it dry. The tender gesture tore at Cornelia's heart. Go, she wanted to whisper. Before my heart breaks.

  “I should go,” he said, looking at the door. “People will wonder where we've got to.”

  “Yes,” Cornelia said, swallowing hard. “They will.”

  Neither of them moved. Cornelia looked at Francis and he looked back at her. She felt her whole body tingling and forced herself to step to the door.

  “Goodbye, lieutenant,” she said tightly. “I hope to see you soon.”

  “Goodbye, my lady.”

  Cornelia walked stiff-legged to the drawing-room and tiptoed in at the back the instant the music stopped and applause rang out. Francis followed and sat in the only other free seat – across the room.

  Distracted, thoughts whirling, Cornelia forced herself to calm, to listen to the music. Her mind was full of Alexandra and her criticisms, her heart filled with Francis.

  By the end of the concert, Cornelia felt as though she might go slightly mad. Her heart ached and her thoughts chased each other round in circles. She breathed deeply, composing herself. Joined Lucas to say farewell to their guests.

  Francis slipped out at some point while she was distracted, taking a farewell of lady Ormonde. When she had last looked, he had been in the corner of the room, quiet and serious but with a sad sparkle in his eyes when he looked at her, a mix of regret and longing. Then he was gone.

  Mayhap I will never see him again.

  Cornelia fought the sadness down, trying to make herself believe it was all for the best. She didn't want to upset her mother and her aunt. She wanted to do as they wished her to do. And that was to marry someone of her rank. Someone like Richmond.

  She would make herself change. Make herself forget Francis. If it was the last thing she did.

  Chapter 9

  Cornelia was upstairs in the drawing-room when Hudson, the steward, appe
ared. She jumped when he cleared his throat: Lucas had left for the office about an hour before, and she had forgotten she was not alone in the house.

  “My lady?”

  “Oh! Hudson. You startled me.”

  “My apologies, my lady. There is a visitor downstairs for you.”

  “A visitor?” Cornelia's brow shot up. Who could it be? The only people I knew here are Claudia, Lady Ormonde and Eugenie.

  She set the book aside and hurried downstairs, already rehearsing her excuses in thought.

  I am indisposed today. Mayhap we can meet tomorrow?

  Ever since the tea-party the previous day, Cornelia had been feeling restless. The last thing she wanted at that moment was to see a friend of hers. If have to go out with a friend now I am in sore danger of breaking down, confessing all my sadness. If that happened, she would only embarrass herself.

  “My lady?”

  Cornelia gulped. She was in the hallway. Facing her, a smile on his thin lips, was Lord Richmond.

  “Oh...” Cornelia gasped.

  His tall, elegant presence seemed to fill the space. The entrance hall had a soaring ceiling and was by no means small, but Richmond dominated it somehow, making her feel small and overshadowed. She took a step back.

  “Forgive me if my presence startled you, my lady,” he said smoothly, bowing low and elegantly. “I was passing and thought to call in and see if you are available to attend the concert this evening.”

  “Concert?” Cornelia frowned as she dropped a curtsey. “That sounds...pleasant.” All things considered, it might be what she needed. It would not help to stay at home and be miserable. Cornelia was fond of music. A concert is a good way to see people without really having to talk to them. It might be no bad idea.

  And besides, Mama did want me to meet people in London. And here is the perfect eligible bachelor. Right in my entrance-way.

  “I trust it to be so,” he said. “It promises to be diverting. Works by Haydn, I believe.” He put his head on one side, considering. He was excessively handsome, Cornelia thought, with that narrow, chiseled face and those intense eyes. But somehow it seemed a cold attractiveness, one that repelled rather than drew her in.

  “Oh.” Cornelia nodded, thinking. I like Haydn – he may usually be relied on to put at least a few cheerful passages into even his solemn work. “I would like that.”

  “Very good, my lady,” he said. He bowed over my hand. “I trust that is an acceptance?”

  “I...” Cornelia hesitated. He was pressing his lips to her hand in a way that seemed uncomfortable. She could feel warm moisture of his lip on her knuckles. His fingers, thin and muscled, held hers strongly. She couldn't break that hold if she had wished to. When his lips parted, taking the knuckle between them a moment, she tensed. His eyes danced then, seeing the expression in her own, shuttered. He let go.

  “Yes, my lord. I accept your invitation.”

  “Capital.” He straightened, looking down into her eyes. Again, it seemed it must be her imagination, but was he standing closer than he had to? Cornelia shivered. “Well, then. I shall leave you to the day's business. May I fetch you here at six of the clock? My sister will be attending, so I assure you we shall be chaperoned.”

  “Oh.” Cornelia swallowed hard. As if the prospect of Lord Richmond alone wasn't bad enough, she thought, without Alexandra too. The two of them were the only two who could make her feel quite that terrible about herself. She couldn't exactly say that. “Thank you,” she said instead. “I look forward to that.”

  “Capital,” he said again in that assured tone of voice. Then he turned and lifted his hat from the rack, put it back on his head and bowed. “Until then.”

  “Until six of the clock,” Cornelia agreed faintly.

  When he was gone she stood where I was for a minute, rooted to the marble floor, staring at the back of the front door.

  I am not sure what had just happened. It seemed like a strange dream: why was Richmond here, at the townhouse, inviting me to a concert out of thin air? Cornelia sighed and walked briskly back to the stairwell. Well, you are an acquaintance of his sister, now. It seems natural they would invite you to something or other. Stop being so suspicious. She shook herself and went upstairs. Finished the letter to Mama, sanded and folded it. Pulled the bell to summon Linton.

  “I am going to a concert this evening. If you could lay out the blue?”

  “The new blue gown? Yes, my lady.”

  “Oh, and Linton?” I called as she walked out again.

  “Yes, my lady?”

  “I fancy a walk. Will you accompany me now?”

  “Of course, my lady.”

  We went to the park. took myself on a brisk stroll, marching with grim purposefulness down the paths between the trees. Linton struggled to keep up. I was so restless, my thoughts all a flutter like autumn leaves. I had to try and find peace, and walking gave me the space to think.

  Francis, leaving so suddenly. Alexandra and her small unkindnesses. Richmond, turning up here this morning. What is happening? And why am I so distressed by it all?

  Cornelia sat down on a bench, indicating for Linton to sit down beside her.

  “My lady?”

  “Yes?” Cornelia asked distantly.

  “Begging your pardon, ma'am, but should we not go home now? Only I was reckoning that getting a cold out here isn't going to help your temper any. Pardon me, milady.”

  Cornelia felt the sting of rebuke in those words and wanted to snap at Linton, only when she met her gaze she read, not disapproval, but concern. Linton was worried about her. Cornelia sighed heavily.

  “I'm sorry I've been so difficult, Linton.”

  “Oh! Milady! You're never that! You've just been sad. I've seen it, and not known how to help. But, if it's not out of place, me saying it, I would like to, if I could.”

  Cornelia swallowed hard. Here was this girl, younger than herself, lower than her own station in life, hauled across the countryside into a place that made her afraid. Despite all that she was the only person here besides Francis and Cousin Lucas who had said a kind word lately. “Thank you, Linton. I mean it. It's good that...that someone cares.”

  “Oh, my lady.” Linton squeezed her hand briefly, the contact something new for both of them. Then she quickly withdrew it. “I'm certain many people do. You're a good sort, milady. Kind. Always smiling.”

  Cornelia let out a long, shuddering breath. She would never have thought she could inspire devotion in anyone. But it seemed she had. She looked into Linton's serious brown eyes and felt safe for the first time in a while.

  I wish I could ask her for help. Ask her if she knew why Francis left, why Richmond is being so attentive. I wish I could ask her if I'm really plain and awkward. But how can I ask her those things?

  “Thank you, Linton. You're kind too.”

  “Oh, thank you, my lady.” Linton's nose went pink, the only sign she gave of how much Cornelia's words had touched her.

  “Now, let's go back,” Cornelia said firmly. “We need to have tea and get dressed for dinner.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  When Cornelia summoned Linton to help her dress that evening it felt different – the woman who helped her fasten her corsets and buttons, who brushed and set her hair and helped her clip her necklace was not just an anonymous servant. She was a friend. Cornelia felt as if she could confide in her, if she so chose. As if she could ask her opinion and get meaningful advice. It was a freeing feeling.

  “How do I look?”

  Linton smiled. “You look beautiful, milady. That gown becomes you like no other.”

  “Thank you.” Cornelia regarded her reflection shyly.

  She was wearing her new blue gown – a blue the color of bluebells, rich and bright, her mother had considered it almost too dark for a young lady. Cornelia had loved the color too much to resist it and in the end she'd agreed. Cornelia was glad she had. The blue offset her red curls perfectly, bringing out the contrast with her eyes
. She swirled and felt the evening dress swirl about her legs, silky as a whisper. She loved it.

  In the hallway, she waited nervously. It was ten minutes to go. At six of the clock exactly, there was a knock at the door. Cornelia went to it as Hudson opened it.

  “My lady, Lord Richmond.”

  “My lady.”

  Richmond was there, his tall elegant presence dominating the space. He looked at her, his black eyes feasting on the skin of her neck and bust. Cornelia shivered, wishing for a moment that she had worn one of her older gowns; one that did not show her cleavage to the same degree.

  “My lord.” She curtseyed as elegantly as she knew how. He took her hand as he had earlier, pressing it to his lips.

  “Come with me,” he said authoritatively. “The carriage awaits.”

  Cornelia shivered but made herself give a small, high laugh as she imagined Alexandra would do. “How lovely.”

  He smiled and stood back for her, then opened the door of the handsome black-painted coach. Cornelia let him hand her into it, expecting Alexandra to be inside already. She was not.

  Richmond swung into the carriage and shut the door. “Walk on.”

  “My lord?” Cornelia's heart was beating fast. “Where is Alexandra?”

  “Oh!” he laughed. “She is at the concert. Waiting for us. She chose to attend the reception, and I did not wish to spoil it for her.”

  “Oh.” It was an innocent explanation, but still, being alone in a carriage with this man and the way he looked at her made her afraid.

  “And I, for one, am not sorry for that absence,” Richmond purred.

  “”Oh?”

  His hand had reached for hers. Cornelia stiffened, shocked, as he held her fingers in his. His hands were warm, the fingers strong and muscular. Cornelia tensed, feeling again that sense of being unable to resist him, no matter what. She laughed.

  “My lord?”

  “Yes?”

  His eyes were looking into hers and it seemed he was not about to take a hint. His fingers moved, straying from her hand to rest, so gently, on her knee. Cornelia closed her eyes. His hand was possessive there, too, the fingers tracing her knee in a way that made the back of her throat tickle as if she wanted to be sick. She moved.