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

by Joyce Alec

  “You are not refuting my observations, I see.”

  With a long, exasperated sigh, Charles turned back to his friend, dragging his eyes away from Miss Jones. “What is it that you want me to admit? That I find that I like Miss Jones exceedingly? That I have an increasing regard for her?”

  The duke grinned, his eyes twinkling. “And do you?”

  Running one hand through his hair, Charles dropped his head. “Yes, I will admit that I do,” he admitted as the duke chuckled loudly. “Although I do not see it as a laughing matter.”

  “I must apologize,” the duke said at once, slapping Charles hard on the back. “It is only that I find this transformation to be both unexpected and predictable all at once!” He smiled as Charles lifted his head, glancing back toward Miss Jones. “My wife told me that Miss Jones was a very lovely creature and we considered that it was only a matter of time before you discovered such a thing also.”

  Charles shook his head, letting out a small but audible groan. “What am I to do now?”

  “What is there to do?” the duke asked, sounding surprised. “You are to marry the lady, are you not? So what else must be done?”

  Trying to find a way to express himself, Charles took a moment or two to choose his words. “I—I find that I have a desire for a closeness with her that, at present, seems unreachable,” he admitted as the smile slid from the duke’s face. “Miss Jones has asked me to be honest with her about the agreement between her father and myself and as yet, I have not done so.”

  The duke frowned. “What is there to explain?”

  “She asks if I am to gain anything if she returns to America,” Charles said heavily. “I have not answered her as yet, but I fear that this question continues to dog her mind, to the point that she cannot consider anything other than what the answer might be. I believe it is holding her back a little.”

  “And why does she want to know?” the duke asked, sounding a little confused. “Does she intend to return there and break off the engagement?”

  Aware that this fear was steadily growing within his own heart, Charles let out a long breath and shrugged. “I cannot say,” he replied slowly. “She says that she does not have any such intention, but she will not let go of this particular question.”

  “Then tell her,” the duke answered, as though this was the most obvious, the most pertinent answer. “Tell her the truth: that you gain nothing.”

  Charles shifted uncomfortably, glancing at his friend. The duke’s eyes widened, his expression shocked. “You mean to say that you will, in fact, be given something?”

  Charles cleared his throat as sweat beaded on his brow. “There was always the possibility that Miss Jones might wish to return. I promised her father that, should this be the case, I would make certain that she was returned safely. I would make all the arrangements.” His heart squeezed hard, feeling a small sense of guilt which he had no need to feel. This arrangement made complete sense. “If she returned, however, then Mr. Jones would give me a fair amount of money in recompense. It would pay for the arrangements made for her return, for anything that I might have spent on the wedding day itself, and the rest would have simply gone into my coffers.” He looked toward Miss Jones, as though fearing she might suddenly glance over at him, having somehow overheard what he had said. “That is all that was arranged.”

  The duke said nothing for a moment or two, looking steadily at Charles and then shrugging one shoulder. “I can see no particular difficulties,” he answered with a small smile that relieved Charles of some of his anxiety. “That is a wise arrangement to have made with her father.”

  “But she may not think it wise,” Charles protested, suddenly deathly afraid that Miss Jones would hear of this and decide to return to America regardless. “I do not want her to leave.”

  “Because you have come to care for her or because her fortune is what you require?” the duke asked, sending a jolt of anger through Charles. “Which is it, old boy?”

  Charles’ eyes narrowed, feeling a surge of irritation toward his friend. “You cannot think that I care only for money!” he exclaimed as the duke held up both hands in a defensive gesture. “Surely you know that I—”

  “I know that you can often act without fully thinking the consequences through,” the duke answered calmly. “You gave a good deal of money to your brother time and again, without once thinking of what it might do to your own fortune. And now the situation you are in is precisely because you did not give yourself the time you required to think things through with careful consideration.” He did not speak harshly, but rather with a calmness that told Charles that the duke did not have any intention of shaming him but was rather urging him to behave in a cautious and restrained manner. “In this matter, you have decided to remain utterly silent on the subject and have not given Miss Jones the answer she seeks, because you think that she will reject you and return to America. Have you thought about what will happen if you marry and this question remains unanswered?”

  “I do not think anything will happen,” Charles answered truthfully, not understanding what the duke meant. “The question will remain unanswered and will simply be a part of our past, and something that we need not any longer consider.”

  The duke shook his head slowly, his expression turning a good deal more serious. “I must tell you that you are quite mistaken,” he said softly. “I have been married for a little less than three years and in that time, Susanna and I have grown infinitely closer. There have been times when there has been a sharp disagreement between us and I have learned that one simply cannot throw the issue aside. It must be dealt with otherwise there is a vast chasm between us that cannot be filled.” He gestured toward the duchess and Miss Jones. “If you are beginning to have an affection for Miss Jones, then you cannot let this question remain as it is, in the hope that it will simply float away. It will remain in her mind and also, I believe, in yours. It will be infinitely easier for you to tell her the truth now than to keep it from her.”

  Charles swallowed and looked away from the duke, back toward Miss Jones. He accepted the duke’s words without hesitation, knowing full well that the man understood more about marriage than he did at present. But yet, the thought of answering her question about the arrangement made should she return to America sent a chill through him. What if she decided to return? He could not bear the thought of watching the ship sail away with her on board.

  “You will have every opportunity to tell her the truth of your feelings thereafter,” the duke murmured quietly, as though he could see into Charles’ mind. “Have courage, Allerton. It will all work out very well indeed, I am sure, just so long as you tell her the truth.”

  “I do not believe that I have ever asked you if you play the pianoforte.”

  Charles smiled at the burst of laughter that came from Miss Jones, thinking to himself that the answer was, evidently, more than a little obvious.

  “I do not, Lord Allerton, no,” Miss Jones replied with a wry smile. “I was never given the opportunity to learn and I confess that I do not think I would have done very well even if I had been taught.” She sighed and shook her head, looking up at him with a gleam in her eye. “I am somewhat stubborn.”

  “Indeed?” he queried wryly, as if he had not heard her suggest such a thing before. “I had thought you to be a quiet and willing sort, who would do anything asked of you without hesitation.”

  Again, she laughed and this time, Charles could not help but join in. It was lovely to have such a camaraderie between them now, instead of the harsh unfriendliness that had been there at the first. He was responsible for the delay of this increased regard, of course, but he did not allow the wave of guilt to come crashing down on him all over again. There was a future to think of now, and with it came the knowledge that he would have to tell Miss Jones the truth about his arrangement with her father.

  “The musical part of this evening is due to start within the next hour, Lord Henderson said,” began Miss Jones,
mentioning the name of their host. “I am glad that you now know that I am not inclined toward the pianoforte, since you will not push me forward in front of the rest of the guests in order to sing Christmas carols or the like!” Her eyes twinkled. “Nor do I have a fine voice, Lord Allerton, in case you think me blessed in that area instead.”

  “Ah, Lord Allerton.”

  He stiffened at once, the smile sliding from his face as the sound of Lady Venables’ voice reached him. Lady Venables was one of London’s biggest gossips and she took pride in the fact that most people knew of her reputation. He did not want to converse with her and certainly did not want her to get her claws into Miss Jones, but given that they were guests together in the very same room, he could not exactly ignore her. To give her the cut direct would start all manner of rumors—rumors he could not permit to come to life.

  Gritting his teeth and with a warning look toward Miss Jones, he turned toward the older lady. She was beaming at him, her dark brown eyes fastened onto him in eager anticipation as though she knew she would be able to get a good deal from him.

  “Lady Venables,” he murmured, bowing quickly and seeing her quick bob of a curtsy. “How good to see you this evening.”

  “I have been out of London,” she informed him, her high-pitched voice setting his teeth on edge. “I have only just returned and what do I hear? That you have managed to secure a wife.” Her eyes turned toward Miss Jones and Charles had no other choice but to introduce her.

  “A wife from America, indeed!” Lady Venables exclaimed as Miss Jones rose from her curtsy. “It is not surprising, of course, given how you are viewed by society, but I always thought you would marry a delicate English rose.”

  Charles felt a flush begin to creep up his neck, a tight spiral of anger settling in his chest. “I am very glad indeed that Miss Jones has been willing to travel to England in order to marry me,” he said coldly. “She is quite wonderful and I look forward to my wedding day with great anticipation.”

  Lady Venables trilled with laughter and patted Miss Jones on the arm, as though she believed Charles’ compliments to be nothing more than fripperies that meant very little indeed. Charles threw a desperate glance toward Miss Jones and saw that, whilst her face was a little white and her lips very thin, she was managing to keep her composure with remarkable dignity. She said nothing, which, Charles considered, was probably for the best given their present company.

  “And your own daughters?” he asked, remembering that Lady Venables had as yet two unmarried daughters. “Are they here for the Little Season?”

  Lady Venables laughed again and struck his arm lightly with her fan, as though he were being quite ridiculous, and it was all Charles could do not to explode with frustration.

  “Oh, now, Lord Allerton, you must not attempt to coerce one of my daughters into matrimony, just because of what I have said,” she answered, as if he had been deliberately attempting to do such a thing. “I am sure that Miss Jones is more than suitable for you and, besides which, I fear that I cannot think of accepting a gentleman in your position.” She sighed and shook her head. “You must understand, Lord Allerton, that even with your title, you are not particularly eligible.”

  “I—”

  Charles opened his mouth to protest, only for Lady Venables to exclaim aloud that their host was ushering them toward the music room, where they might hear some of the young ladies play and sing. She brushed past Charles at once, leaving both himself and Miss Jones standing silently, staring after her.

  “I do not know what to say in order to excuse Lady Venables,” Charles began, looking at Miss Jones and seeing that her face was still quite pale. “She is ill-mannered and thoughtless in her speech and I am sorry for it.”

  Miss Jones smiled tightly, glancing up at him before returning her gaze to the lady in question. “You did nothing, Lord Allerton,” she answered quietly. “I do not hold you responsible. Although I am glad to know that you will not be throwing me aside to chase after one of her daughters in my stead.”

  “Never,” he grated, speaking with more force than he had intended and seeing just how she looked up in surprise. “I find more in you than I have ever found in her daughters, I assure you.”

  There was a moment of silence then, and Miss Jones continued to study him quietly, as if there was something she might discover in his expression if she looked long enough. Then she sighed, tipped her head, and gave him a half-smile.

  “Might I ask what your ‘situation’ is?” she asked softly as the room began to empty of guests. “Was Lady Venables speaking only of your lack of funds?”

  Charles hesitated for a moment, thinking about his brother and wondering if he should share what his brother had done and what he himself had chosen to do thereafter. Deciding that such a revelation might bring him low in her estimation, Charles chose not to do so. “Lady Venables has always been rather haughty,” he said, in answer to her question. “But it means nothing.”

  Miss Jones sighed heavily. “I can well understand it,” she answered, a touch of sadness in her voice.

  “You can?” he asked, a little surprised with how evident her feelings were on the matter. “From this Season only?”

  She looked up at him for a moment, considering. Then, she shook her head and sighed again.

  “No, Lord Allerton,” she answered eventually, looking away from him. “It is not only the English that have behaved in such a manner toward me.” Her eyes narrowed just a fraction but she held his gaze steadily, as though he might be inclined to laugh at what she would say next. “My father did not gain his fortune until much later in life, as you know. I was thrown from one world to the next.” Her eyes searched his. “Those above me looked down on me for not having the manners, knowledge, or propriety that they had—which I did try to attain, but having to learn so much in such a short space of time was very difficult.”

  “I can imagine,” Charles murmured, beginning to feel his heart swell with compassion for her. “That must have been very trying.”

  “And those who were once my friends,” Miss Jones continued, as though she had not heard him, “chose to no longer spend time with me given that I had been lifted into a higher situation. We moved to a better part of town, into a much grander house—and I could no longer maintain the friendships I once had.” She sighed and dashed a hand over her eyes, before turning around so that she would not have to look into his face. “It was almost a relief to come to England, even though I will be honest and state that I did not really wish to do as my father asked.”

  Charles reached out before he could stop himself and grasped her arm, tugging her gently back toward him. Miss Jones turned back to face him, her eyes wide with surprise, but Charles did not let go. Instead, he ran his hand down her arm until he found her fingers, holding onto them gently and praying that she could feel just how much he wished things had been different for her.

  “And then you came here and found much the same struggle as you had in New York,” he finished, aware that she had been close to tears. “And to a gentleman who showed you very little sympathy or consideration.” He sighed at his own poor behavior and looked deeply into her eyes. “I am truly sorry for the part I played in that, Miss Jones. I deeply regret it.”

  For a moment, her face remained expressionless. And then, with a long breath, the corners of her mouth began to lift, her eyes began to warm and, to his utter delight, she pressed his fingers with her own.

  “It seems that we have an understanding of society that we can both share,” she said softly, as the air seemed to sparkle around him. “And I appreciate your apology, Lord Allerton. It means a great deal to me.”

  Charles smiled back at her, feeling his heart begin to fill with such a deep sense of affection that he suddenly had the urge to pull her into his arms—an urge so strong that he had to physically force himself to remain where he was. Any thought of speaking of the arrangement with her father went completely from his head. All he wanted to do was be c
lose to her.

  “Look,” he murmured, glancing above to where, he noticed, there hung a mistletoe bough. He saw her glance up toward it and smiled to himself, wondering if she knew what it was. “It is mistletoe, Miss Jones. If you permit me a kiss, then I will take a berry from the sprig.” Smiling warmly, he felt his heart quicken, wondering if she would permit him to kiss her cheek. No one would make a remark or start a whisper about them, for such a thing was expected at Christmastime and, besides which, they were very soon to be married.

  “We—we should go to sit with the others.”

  Miss Jones was blushing now, her cheeks colored pink as he realized that they had simply stood looking at each other for some moments. His heart dropped to the floor, before throwing itself back up to his chest as she moved just a little closer.

  “I think, perhaps, the next time we see such a bough, I will be more prepared, Lord Allerton.”

  The promise in her eyes made him catch his breath. He could not look away, and felt his heart thundering like the pounding of a thousand horses’ hooves.

  “I hope you will be, Miss Jones,” he murmured as she turned away from him just a little, making him realize that almost all of the guests had moved through to the music room, meaning that both himself and Miss Jones were some of the only few left. “You can be quite certain that I will not miss such an opportunity should it present itself again.”

  She smiled at him then, her expression open and her eyes freed of any sort of suspicion or doubt. It was one of the most beautiful smiles Charles had ever seen and he basked in the joy that it brought him.

  “I look forward to it, Lord Allerton,” she said quietly, putting her hand on his arm and allowing him to lead her through.

  10

  In the last ten days, Alice reflected, she had certainly felt a good deal closer to Lord Allerton than she had ever done before. He had been kind to her, considerate, and certainly seemed to want to know her better, given what he asked her and how well he listened thereafter. They had talked a good deal and she felt as though she knew the gentleman’s character to be good.