The Spinster's Guild : A Sweet Regency Romance Boxset

by Rose Pearson

  “Good evening, Lord Montague.”

  Amelia frowned as she saw Lord Montague’s expression darken at once, his entire frame seeming to tense, for his shoulders lifted and his jaw tightened, with his eyes narrowing as the gentleman who had greeted him drew closer.

  “Lord Davidson,” she heard him say, turning her head away so that she would not appear to be listening to their conversation. “Good evening.”

  “You were dancing with Lady Amelia it seems,” Lord Davidson said in a cheerful tone. “It is the talk of society, of course.”

  Amelia closed her eyes, feeling a needling of embarrassment and have to force it away from her. She knew dancing with Lord Montague would send tongues wagging but, as Lord Montague had reminded her only a few minutes previously, she did not need to concern herself with what others thought of her.

  “I was, and I hope to do so again,” Lord Montague replied. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must go in search of Mrs. Peters or Lady Smithton.” He turned away, meaning to go back towards Amelia, who had risen out of her chair, only for Lord Davidson to put out one hand to stop him.

  “Lady Smithton, you say?” he asked nonchalantly, giving Amelia a quick smile. “I saw her walking with another lady—fair-haired and slight—out in the gardens. Lord Harrington has an excellent display out there this evening. Lanterns of all kinds and some beautiful arrangements of flowers and the like, lit up by the lanterns glow. It is quite lovely, of course.”

  Amelia frowned, finding it very unusual indeed that Mrs. Peters and Lady Smithton would have left her sitting here alone with Lord Montague when they knew she was only dancing the one dance with him. “And you are quite certain you saw Lady Smithton there?” she asked as Lord Montague shook his head sharply. “You could not be mistaken?”

  Lord Davidson laughed a little unpleasantly, and Amelia felt a slight shudder run through her as though instinctively, she knew this fellow was not a kind man.

  “Everyone is well aware of who Lady Smithton is, so there could be no mistaking it,” he answered, looking at her as though she were being idiotic. “Yes, I saw her there only a few minutes ago. I am certain she will return to you soon.”

  Amelia managed a tight smile and took Lord Montague’s arm, thanking Lord Davidson but feeling the urge to escape from his presence just as soon as she could. “We should go to the gardens to find them,” she murmured as Lord Montague began to walk slowly through the crowd of guests. “I do not understand why they have gone from the ballroom, but I fear it may be because of something I said to Mrs. Peters earlier today.”

  Lord Montague stiffened, turning to her and letting go of her hand. “No, Lady Amelia,” he said firmly, his expression stern. “I will not lead you out of doors into the gardens. That is not what my intention is.”

  She blinked at him in surprise, opening her mouth to speak to him, only for him to catch her hand and place it on his arm, walking towards the open French doors leading to the gardens, going directly in contradiction to what he had said.

  “We will linger near the door, but I will not step outside with you,” he stated, moving towards the wall of the ballroom, where the shadows were thick and heavy. “But you must understand, Lady Amelia, I will not even consider risking your reputation by stepping out of doors with you. That is entirely improper and I—”

  “Lord Montague, please!” Amelia clutched at his arm with both hands as they stopped together, looking up earnestly into his face and wanting desperately to impress upon him the truth that she did not think he would ever do so. “It would not be improper by any means! There are many guests going in and out of those doors, and the gardens are clearly so well-lit, there is no opportunity for impropriety. Look!” Catching sight of Lady Alexandra walking alongside another gentleman out into the gardens, she gestured to them pointedly. “You have too much concern for my safety, Lord Montague,” she finished, looking up into his face as he turned back to her. “Can you not see I trust you?”

  These words seemed to bring him more pain than relief. He lowered his head, rubbing one hand over his forehead, murmuring something she could not quite make out. Alarmed by his apparent upset, Amelia pressed one hand gently to his arm, feeling as though she ought to be giving him some comfort, even though she did not know why he appeared so ill at ease.

  “You should not trust me, Lady Amelia.”

  Lord Montague’s voice was harsh and rasping, his features contorted as he looked up at her, shaking his head as he did so. “You should not give me even a modicum of your trust.”

  “But why should I not?” Amelia asked, a little breathlessly. “I know of your reputation, Lord Montague, and you know very well that, from the beginning, I have not been certain of this courtship. But now that I have spent more time with you, now that I have seen how you defend me to your peers, how can I not begin to trust you have changed? That you may, in fact, be the gentleman no one ever believed you would become?” Taking a small step closer to him, she looked up into his eyes, her heart hurting for him as she saw the confusion in his eyes. “You fear yourself, Lord Montague. You fear you may yet be dishonorable. Mayhap you are afraid of what you have begun to feel.” Ignoring the jolt of anxiety that crashed through her as she spoke, Amelia swallowed hard and forced herself to continue. “Surely you cannot be unaware of how my feelings have changed towards you these last two weeks, Lord Montague,” she whispered, unable to hold his gaze any longer as she told him more than she had ever intended. “You have defended me, have encouraged me, and have made me feel more than I ever imagined I could feel.” Her voice grew quieter still, her heart beginning to race as he touched her hand with his, making her look up at him once more. “I confess I have been confused with what I feel for you, Lord Montague. I have tried to battle it, particularly when Lady Smithton and Mrs. Peters have told me to ensure you are not to be trusted. I have wanted to stay away from you so that my regard for you will not grow any further, but neither of my desires have been achieved. And now,” she finished, seeing how Lord Montague’s eyes darkened with emotion, “I find I do not want my heart to give up what it now holds for you.”

  “Stop, Lady Amelia, please.”

  Her heart swirled in her chest. She had been about to state she cared for him deeply, about to confess that she loved him, but he had prevented her from doing so by a mere word. Lord Montague said nothing for some moments, leaving Amelia standing on the edge of a precipice. Either he would tell her he had no feelings at all and did not understand what she spoke of, or he would admit to her that she spoke the truth. Blood roared in her ears as Lord Montague sighed heavily, closing his eyes and shaking his head as though he was struggling with what he was to say to her in response.

  “Lady Amelia, you must not say anything more.”

  Lord Montague opened his eyes, moving just a fraction closer to her. The sound of the guests near to them began to fade away, the music from the orchestra becoming nothing but silence. All Amelia could hear was her breath, waiting desperately for Lord Montague to say something further.

  “You are much too good for someone such as me.”

  His voice was filled with tenderness, his hand reaching out and brushing her cheek with such a gentleness that Amelia wanted to lean into him, her eyes filling with tears of happiness.

  “You speak of things with such honesty that I find myself wanting to do the very same,” he continued, his hand running from her cheek to her shoulder and down her arm until his fingers twined with hers, making her heart cry with joy. “I will not hide the truth from you, Lady Amelia.” Again, he sighed, closing his eyes tightly and wincing as he did so. “I am the very cad you think me.”

  Her happiness evaporated in a moment. She froze, her body weighted as she stared up at him, not understanding what he meant. Had she been entirely wrong? Had he been pretending to feel something for her? Had he felt nothing at all and had only come to her defense so as to make her enamored towards him?

  “I never intended to have such an affection f
or you, Amelia,” he whispered, opening his eyes and gazing down into her face. “I did not think I would be so affected, but I know now I cannot leave your side. My waking hours are spent wishing to be near you. My heart longs to hear your voice, to know what you have to say, to do my utmost to make you smile. And yet, I have hidden that from my very self, trying to convince myself that what I felt meant nothing. But,” he continued, swallowing hard and taking in a long breath. “But I have found myself just as you describe—with a deep regard for you that will not leave me but instead continues to grow, filling me until I cannot deny its presence.”

  Amelia did not mean to cry, but a single tear streaked down her cheek as she tried to take in what Lord Montague had said. He had called himself a cad because he had been hiding his feelings from her and had not spoken to her of what was in his heart. That, as far as she thought, did not make him so, but apparently, to his mind, that was precisely what he was.

  “Pray, do not cry,” he whispered, looking utterly wretched. “Oh, Lady Amelia, what is it I have done?”

  She swallowed her tears and wiped the one from her cheek, feeling her lips curving up into a smile as she realized the truth. Lord Montague cared for her, just as she cared for him. Her fears and her doubts, and the fears and doubts of Lady Smithton and Mrs. Peters were to come to naught. Lord Montague’s reputation would not be carried into her future. Things were about to change.

  “I think I have fallen in love with you, Lady Amelia,” she heard him whisper, staring up at him in disbelief as those words fell from his lips. “I cannot explain it, cannot understand it, but I fear I have reached a place from which I shall never be able to return.”

  Amelia closed her eyes so that her tears would not fall from her lashes, feeling herself practically burst with joy. Her heart echoed his, but she could not find the words to express it, such was her happiness. If she spoke, then she feared she might break down completely, losing her composure entirely and catching the attention of the guests nearby who, thus far, had not even cast a single glance in their direction.

  “I—I cannot do this any longer.”

  Opening her eyes, Amelia was astonished to see Lord Montague now looked entirely ill at ease. Instead of the same joy she felt being expressed in his eyes, he appeared to be becoming more and more distraught. His eyes were wild, darting from place to place, and he began to shift from foot to foot. Pressing her hand for another moment, he let it go and took a step back as though to leave her entirely.

  “I must go,” he said hurriedly, turning away from her only to come back to her side and take her hand again. “Oh, Amelia, I will confess to you now that all that is said of me is entirely true. I am everything you think me to be. Everything Lady Smithton said about my character is beyond doubt. They were right to warn you from me. I am the worst sort of gentleman, and yet I am a gentleman who has come to love you with all that I am. My arrogance and selfishness have been revealed to me, tearing aside my flesh and revealing the darkness that lingers in my heart. And that is all because of you, Amelia. It is all because of you.” Shaking his head, he lifted her hand and pressed his lips to it for a long moment, sending a shiver up her arm. She did not know what he meant by what he was saying, feeling almost numb with confusion. “I speak the truth when I tell you I love you, Amelia. I love you desperately, and if I were sure you would agree, I would ask you to become my wife.” Her heart leaped in her chest, only for her to realize Lord Montague was not, in fact, about to ask her that wonderful question.

  “Why would I refuse you?” she asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “I do not understand.”

  “I know,” he answered, looking more pained than she had ever seen him. “I know you do not understand, but in the days to come, I am sure you will.” Letting go of her hand, he took a step back, a finality in his expression that frightened her. “Know, Lady Amelia, I am deeply, deeply sorry for all that will come. I was only thinking of myself and the consequences that might follow. I did not truly consider you until I realized you were more wonderful, more beautiful, and more inspiring than any other lady of my acquaintance. And now, it is too late.” He spread his hands, his voice filled with hopelessness. “I have lost everything. I am so very sorry, Amelia. Despite it all, know I have come to feel for you a love that will endure for the rest of my days.” Turning away from her, he pressed one hand to his heart as though he were trying to prevent it from breaking. “Goodbye, Lady Amelia.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Oliver wanted to ride away from London, ensconce himself in his estate and hide away until his heart no longer screamed at him with both guilt and pain. Speaking to Lady Amelia last evening had broken every single part of him. He had known his heart had begun to care deeply for the lady but had never once considered what it would be like to hear her speak of her affection for him. When she had begun, he had felt the first stab of shame lance through his heart, which was followed by another, and then another, until he felt as if he might crumple to the floor in agony.

  It was an agony of his own making, of course. An agony he could not blame anyone else for. Lord Davidson had made the bet, yes, but had he not grown too close to Lady Thornhill in the first place, then there would have been nothing Lord Davidson could have used against him. Had he never become this arrogant, selfish, pig-headed rogue, then he might now have found a contented happiness with Lady Amelia, might well have seen the beauty that she was long before now. Perhaps she would never have had to endure the mockery of the ton. Perhaps she would never have needed to struggle in the way she did at present.

  The foolishness of his heart and the idiocy of his actions hit him time and time again, making him want to lose himself in the hazy fog of too much brandy, too much liquor. Then, perhaps, he might forget—at least for a time—the foolishness of what he had done.

  Lady Amelia would know about his bet soon enough. Lord Davidson coming to speak to him last evening, in Lady Amelia’s presence, had been warning enough. It was a reminder that Lord Davidson was watching him, that he was making certain Oliver was close to fulfilling his bet so that Lord Thornhill would not have to be told of his wife’s indiscretions, and so that Lord Davidson might make enough money to pull him out of his current debts.

  And now, the only way to turn his back on it all was to go to Lord Thornhill himself and to state what he had done. Even though it had been during last season, Oliver knew the consequences for him when it came to telling the truth might be severe indeed. Lord Thornhill held a good deal of influence. He could make quite sure Oliver was thrown from society, that he was rejected by almost everyone he knew. There would be no return from that. It could take years before he was welcomed back to London—and he certainly would never enjoy the same privileges as he did at present.

  But somehow, when he considered Lady Amelia, he knew such things did not matter. Whether society rejected him or not, all he cared about was Lady Amelia. He ached for her. It was not until last evening, when she had spoken the truths of her heart to him and suggested he too might be struggling with some of his own feelings, that he had come to realize the full extent of his affections. It was love. It could have no other explanation. The desire to be near her almost every hour, every minute. The eagerness with which he counted the seconds until he could be in her company once more. The way his heart lifted when he saw her approaching, his joy in their conversation, and how much he delighted in hearing her laugh. The anger that rose within him when someone spoke to her disparagingly, growing within him the need to protect her. It all amounted to one thing— love. He loved Lady Amelia, and now he was to separate from her for good. There was no hope for him now, not when she discovered the truth. She would be heartbroken over what he had done, realize he had deliberately meant to deceive her, and even though he now found himself in love with her, his assurance of his devotion would not take away the pain of his betrayal. His shame would be his torment.

  “Another brandy, my lord?”

  He looked up to see a foo
tman handing him another glass, which Oliver accepted with a mutter of thanks.

  “And Lord Havisham wishes to join you,” the footman added, just as Oliver saw the tall, broad-shouldered, and rather angry looking Lord Havisham approaching from across the room. Oliver had no time to rise from his chair, no time to escape from the fury that was Lord Havisham and could only scrabble at the arms of his chair with one hand, afraid Lord Havisham was about to plant him a facer.

  “Montague.”

  Lord Havisham stood directly in front of Oliver’s chair, his eyes narrowed with anger.

  “Lord Havisham,” Oliver murmured, his heart pounding furiously, recalling Lord Havisham was very close to Lady Smithton. “Good evening.”

  Lord Havisham let out a long breath, his jaw jutting forward. “You have brought much pain to Lady Amelia, Montague. I do not understand why, and neither, I fear, does she.”

  Oliver closed his eyes and let out a long breath, a cold hand grasping at his heart. “I—I think she will come to understand it very soon,” he said hoarsely. “All will discover it, Lord Havisham. I have made a dreadful mess of things, and I must set them aright before Lord Davidson wins his wager.” Realizing what he had said, he opened his eyes to see Lord Havisham staring at him, his brows lowering slowly. “I will not pretend,” Oliver continued, lifting his brandy to his mouth and taking a sip in the hope that it would give him a little more courage, “I did not want to take on this wager, Lord Havisham, but I had no other choice. Lord Davidson threatened to reveal something that would ruin me and have me thrown from society, and initially, I considered such a consequence too great for me to endure.” Another sip of brandy sent a flare of warmth through him, chasing away a little of the cold that had seemed to settle in his very bones. “I now know such consequences mean nothing.”