Hopes and Brides: Regency and Mail Order Bride Historical Romance Collection

by Joyce Alec

  “I must speak to you,” he said, ignoring the murmurs going on around him. “This very moment, if you please.”

  She looked at him in astonishment, her brows lifting.

  “It is important, Lady Ellen,” he continued, as quietly as he could. “It will only take a few minutes.”

  Nodding, she excused herself and came toward him. George let out a breath of relief, closing his eyes for a moment. “Might we go somewhere quiet to speak, Lady Ellen?”

  “My goodness, Lord Hartley, is everything all right?” she asked, looking more and more concerned. “You are not ill, I hope?”

  He shook his head. “No, I am not ill. But what I have to say cannot be kept hidden any longer. It must come out, else it will rob me of my very soul.” His words were tortured, the pain in his heart excruciating. She kept her eyes on him, as they walked to the quiet part of the ballroom, near the French doors.

  “Might we walk outside?” she asked, with a small smile. “I know there will be many others outdoors, and I have been told it is well lit.”

  He shook his head, recalling that Lord Morton would most likely be waiting to see him leave with her. “I do not think that is a good idea. Someone might overhear us.”

  She gave a quiet laugh. “My dear Lord Hartley, they are more likely to hear us in here! Come now, I insist. A short walk will be just the thing, and I can have one of my acquaintances walk a little behind us if you wish – not that anyone will notice, I am quite sure.”

  The reluctance in him was a strong warning. “I do not think your mother would approve.”

  “You mean my mother, or my father,” Lady Ellen chuckled. “My father has come out this evening with us, although I think he disappeared almost at once into the card room.”

  “A wise man,” George muttered. “Then I must insist that we remain inside.”

  “Oh, but they both trust me implicitly,” Lady Ellen replied calmly. “And since I now trust you, Lord Hartley, there can be nothing to fear, can there? You are not about to drag me to some darkened spot, are you?” She lifted one eyebrow, her lips curving into a smile, and George sighed heavily.

  “No, of course not,” he said firmly. “But I insist we stick to the path and remain in sight of the others at all times.”

  She smiled. “But of course.”

  They stepped outside and walked down the stone steps toward the path. It was, as Lady Ellen had said, very well-lit, and for that, George was grateful. There would be no missteps here. He only had to hope that Lord Morton had not followed them, at least not before he had a chance to speak to Lady Ellen.

  “Well?” she asked, as they began to walk along the path together. “What was it you wished to say?”

  Now that it came to it, George found himself struggling for words, not quite sure how to reveal the truth to her.

  “Lady Ellen,” he began, in a voice filled with tension and strain. “When I first met you, I was, in fact, more than a little rude.”

  “You need not apologize again,” Lady Ellen said at once, taking his arm. “I have already told you thrice that your apology has been accepted.”

  George cleared his throat, his words sticking to the roof of his mouth. “No, indeed. I quite understand. What I am trying to say is that I was angry with your rejection of me. I was upset that you did not look at me as other ladies did.”

  “And so, I have become the object of your thoughts?” she asked, with a lilt to her voice. “You have become determined to capture my affections and so have tried to turn into the kind of gentleman I would begin to care for?”

  The laughter in her voice made him pause, as he tried to find the words to tell her that, yes, this was exactly what he was doing. Only then did George realize that they had wandered further than he had intended, the lights from the lanterns already beginning to fade.

  “We should turn back,” he muttered, passing one hand over his eyes as he made to turn around.

  “Lord Hartley?”

  He stopped and looked at her, seeing the way her eyes caught the moonlight. She was so beautiful that his heart began to ache with longing, forcing him to step closer—even though he knew he should be doing exactly the opposite.

  “I must tell you now that I feel very confused over you, Lord Hartley,” she whispered, her breath fluttering across his cheek. “You have turned into the kind of gentleman I might consider. Indeed, I have struggled to get you from my mind these last weeks.”

  “You are very bold to say so,” George replied haltingly, as she placed one delicate hand against his chest. “I would be lying if I did not say that I felt in much a similar way—although I know it can never be.”

  “Why not?” she asked softly, still looking into his eyes. “Will you not consider courting me? If there is something between us, something that neither of us cannot deny, then I would not like to continue to ignore it. I have already moved away from the belief that you are not the gentleman you said you were, and in doing so, I believe my heart has opened to you all the more.”

  George groaned, throwing his head back and closing his eyes tightly. The urge to lean down and kiss her was overwhelming his senses, making him want to scream in both frustration and longing.

  “I cannot,” he whispered, looking back at her. “If you would just let me explain, I—”

  His words were cut short, as a pair of soft lips gently touched his own.

  It was all the encouragement George needed. Without thinking of what he was doing, he held Lady Ellen tightly and dropped his head, kissing her with all the passion he felt. The fact that he had not managed to tell her the truth was pushed from his mind, refusing to allow it to linger there. He wanted this moment to linger and to remember what it felt like to have her in his arms.

  Only for another voice to rend the air. A voice he knew all too well.

  Lord Morton.

  10

  Ellen froze in Lord Hartley’s arms, only to stumble back as he loosened this grip. She stared at Lord Hartley, horrified with what she had done. It had been a foolish moment of weakness, a moment when she had been overcome by all that she felt as he had stumbled over his words, revealing himself to be more vulnerable than she had ever seen him.

  He had been trying to tell her something, and all she could think of was what it would be like to be kissed. She had never done anything like that before, her feelings for Lord Hartley suddenly bursting into fire and coursing through her veins. How foolish she had been to press her affections onto him!

  “Well, well, well, Lord Hartley,” came the voice. “You have done what you promised. You have won the bet. I concede entirely.”

  “The bet?” Ellen asked weakly, looking from the gentleman in front of her to Lord Hartley, who was, by this point, hanging his head.

  “What is going on here?”

  She froze, her stomach tightening, as ice swam through her veins. Heaven help her – someone else had heard what was going on.

  “Nothing,” Lord Hartley said firmly, stepping in front of her as though to shield her from view. “Lord Morton is, unfortunately, in his cups.”

  “He has got Lady Ellen there,” Lord Morton replied, with an almost delighted smile. “Can you guess what they might have been doing?”

  A small crowd had gathered by this point, and Ellen felt herself sinking into the ground, shame swallowing her up.

  “Very well, very well,” Lord Hartley said, with a voice that rang with exasperation. “For heaven’s sake, Lord Morton, you are meant to be able to keep secrets!”

  Wishing she could cover her face and run into the gardens, Ellen tried her best to stand tall, as Lord Hartley moved away from her.

  “As Lord Morton is well aware,” Lord Hartley continued calmly. “I was to propose to Lady Ellen this evening. I am delighted to say that she has accepted – although I am yet to speak to her father, so nothing is, of course, official as yet.”

  The murmurs slowly rose around her.

  “Lord Morton has been my long-time friend,
and I had asked him to join me out here in the gardens so that everything might be done properly, so that Lady Ellen would not be compromised in any way,” he said, in a voice that rang with conviction. “Unfortunately,” he growled, shooting a harsh look in Lord Morton’s direction. “The man is in his cups and did not do his duty as he was asked. I am afraid that I will not be able to let this go, Morton. There will be retribution if there is any slant on Lady Ellen’s stellar reputation.”

  Lord Morton swallowed, the smile dropping from his features.

  Aware that, were she to save her reputation she would have to play along, Ellen let out a long sigh and shook her head, gazing mournfully in Lord Morton’s direction all the while feeling as though she might be either violently sick or fall into a dreadful faint.

  “Lord Morton,” she sighed, wishing that she had someone or something to cling onto for support. “How could you be so disingenuous at such a wonderful moment as this? Lord Hartley put his trust in you, and you have let him down – you have let us both down. I can only hope that my father, the Earl of Fancot, does not hear of your behavior—otherwise I can assure you that he will be less than pleased. You have quite ruined what Lord Hartley meant to be an unforgettable moment.” She sighed again, finding that tears were spilling from her eyes, and since they added to the effect, she allowed them to fall.

  There was a short, strained silence.

  “There, there, my dear,” said another lady suddenly hurrying toward Lady Ellen. “You need not cry. Lord Hartley did everything right in bringing Lord Morton with him, so as not to damage your reputation. None here will speak ill of you, have no fear.” She handed her a handkerchief, and Ellen accepted it at once with trembling fingers, suddenly wanting to lean into the lady and let her tears spill out without holding them back. The lady was quite short with a slightly rotund figure that came with age, her hair piled up on her head. Ellen guessed her to be a little older, around the same age as her mother. She had the same air of maturity that her mother carried with her. Perhaps that was why the small crowd of ladies and gentlemen began to disperse almost at once, with only a few murmurs reaching Ellen’s ears.

  “Lady Fitzgerald,” the lady continued, putting one arm around Ellen’s shoulders. “Now, you come along with me and dry your eyes. Lord Morton may have ruined this wonderful moment for you, but I am quite sure that Lord Hartley will not allow him to ruin anything further.” She shot a fierce look toward Lord Morton before shaking her head. “I look forward to seeing the announcement in the papers tomorrow, Lord Hartley.”

  “But of course,” Ellen heard Lord Hartley murmur, as she was quickly led away by Lady Fitzgerald. “I shall ensure to go in search of the Earl of Fancot this very moment. I will not delay an instant.”

  “Come with me, my dear.”

  Ellen allowed Lady Fitzgerald to lead her back into the ballroom, her limbs moving woodenly, as she waited for the music to stop and for every eye to turn on her. Wincing, she looked up, only to see that no one took any particular notice of her.

  “You need not worry, Lady Ellen,” Lady Fitzgerald said calmly. “If you are not aware, I am the Duchess Fitzgerald. Those who saw you outside will not dare say a word about you, not when I have instructed them to remain silent.”

  The gravitas she held suddenly became clear. “You are very kind, Duchess,” Ellen whispered, as they move through the crowd. “This has all been quite a shock.”

  Lady Fitzgerald nodded grimly. “Yes, I thought it must have been. What a shame, child. I am aware that Lord Hartley has a somewhat improved reputation, but I was not at all impressed with Lord Morton’s presence. Lord Hartley should have known better than to allow him into his confidence.”

  “They have been friends for a long time,” Ellen managed to say, hoping she would not faint and make a scene. “I suppose Lord Hartley might have thought him able to keep a secret, but it appears, in his drunken state, Lord Morton was rather unable to do anything but make a fuss.”

  “I am sure it will all turn out quite well,” Lady Fitzgerald replied calmly. “Come the morning, you will be as delighted as you can be, and this whole matter with Lord Morton will be forgotten – although I would advise you not to invite him to the wedding itself if this is how he is to behave!”

  Still entirely unsure as to whether there would actually be a wedding, Ellen tried to smile, and at the sight of her mother, she practically ran toward her.

  “Mama,” she gasped, tears threatening to pour from her eyes. “We must find a quiet room at once.”

  Her mother’s smile faded, concern rushing through her features. “My dear girl, whatever has happened?”

  “She is quite all right, I assure you,” Lady Fitzgerald said at once, with a warm smile. “A little bit of disruption as to what was meant to be a wonderful moment in her life, but I have ensured that there is not even the slightest murmur over her reputation, you can be quite certain of that.”

  Ellen felt her mother’s fingers tighten on her own at the mention of Ellen’s reputation.

  “I am greatly indebted to you, I am sure,” the countess replied softly. “I confess I do not even know your name.”

  “This is the Duchess Fitzgerald, Mama,” Ellen murmured, hearing her mother’s swift intake of breath. “She has been very kind to me.”

  The countess dropped into a curtsy. “Your Grace,” she said quietly. “Whatever it is you have done to help my daughter, I am truly in your debt. Might I call on you in a few days to thank you properly?”

  “But of course,” Lady Fitzgerald replied, with a warm smile. “I would be delighted to see you both. I will send you my card. Good evening to you.”

  Ellen thanked her again with words that were so quiet she could barely hear herself speak and watched as the Duchess turned and walked away, quickly swept up amongst the crowd of guests.

  “Oh, Ellen,” her mother breathed, looking down at her daughter. “Whatever happened to you?”

  Ellen tried not to weep, blinking furiously. “I will tell you all once we find a quiet room, Mama,” she promised, urging her mother to leave the room at once. “Please, let us go this very moment. I do not want to make a scene.”

  The countess drew herself up and took charge in a way that Ellen had not often seen before. She looped Ellen’s arm through her own, supporting her as they made their way from the ballroom, walking carefully and calmly so as not to gain anyone’s attention.

  “Might I have a private parlor for a few minutes?” the countess asked one of the footmen, waving a hand in front of her face. “It is all becoming a little too much, and I could do with some quiet.”

  The footman bowed and led the way up the staircase. Ellen stumbled only once, but her mother continued to support her as best she could until, finally, they were in a room of their own.

  “I know it is quite unorthodox at the ball,” the countess said to the footman, with a quick smile. “But might I ask for a pot of tea for myself and my daughter? I always find it vastly refreshing.”

  “But of course,” the footman said at once, and without another look, he closed the door behind him.

  Ellen, finally alone, sank into a chair, put her head in her hands, and burst into tears, sobs shaking her body. Her mother, unable to do anything other than wrap her arm around her daughter’s shoulders, murmured soothing words, rubbing Ellen’s back, as sadness and grief engulfed Ellen’s heart.

  “Oh, my dear,” her mother whispered softly. “You must tell me everything. Start at the beginning. It cannot be as bad as all that.”

  “It is worse than anything I could have ever imagined,” Ellen whispered, shaking her head and trying to wipe at her eyes. “Mama, it appears that I am engaged.”

  11

  Her mother stared at her, wide eyed.

  “Tis true,” Ellen whispered brokenly. “At least, I hope to goodness that he intends to do what he said after…” She trailed off, embarrassment creeping into her features.

  “Who is it?” the countess asked
, in a sharp voice. “Who is the man, Ellen?”

  Closing her eyes, Ellen shook her head. “I cannot believe I was taken in by him. It is Lord Hartley, Mama.”

  “Lord Hartley?” her mother repeated with a frown. “I thought he was quite a reformed character, is he not? Are you telling me that he has managed to strip you of your dignity somehow and that you are now in the position where the only way out is marriage?”

  The anger in her mother’s voice made Ellen wince, aware that she had some part to play in what had occurred. “I believed him when he said he had changed, when he apologized to me for some very unorthodox behavior, Mama. I trusted him when he told me that he wanted to speak to me, and since there were so many other guests out walking in the gardens, I went with him. They were well lit, and I did not at any point go off by myself with the man.” Seeing her mother frown, Ellen knew she could not tell her that she had been the one to press her affections onto Lord Hartley, guilt washing over her. “Lord Morton, however, chose to shout out to a great many other guests that Lord Hartley and I were engaging in some rather inappropriate behavior.”

  “Oh no,” her mother whispered, the anger draining out of her expression. “Whatever did you do?”

  “There was nothing I could do,” Ellen exclaimed, tears threatening once more. “Lord Morton said something about winning a bet, as though it was Lord Hartley’s intention to fool me for whatever reason. I can hardly bear to think of it!”

  Her mother’s lips whitened with anger, and she gripped Ellen’s shoulder with possibly more force than she had intended.

  “Do you mean to tell me that you suspect Lord Hartley took a bet on being able to get you alone with him?”

  “I did not think anything of it,” Ellen wailed, fresh tears coming to her eyes. “He has, by all appearances, become something of a gentleman, so why would I suspect him? Besides, there were so many others out there, and I made sure to remain within the lit pathway at all times…. Oh Mama, I feel so foolish. What can I do?”