A Marquess' Miraculous Transformation: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Abigail Agar

  Then again, what else was he meant to do? He would need to think about marriage soon. Ronan understood what was expected of him, and if he did not marry Lady Foster, he would need to find someone else. Eventually, Lady Foster would find the right man for her, and he may have lost the best chance he had for a match.

  “Have you missed being out among nobility?” she asked him.

  Ronan refrained from telling her how upset he was about missing her ball, instead glancing over at Miss Philips and feeling a sudden calm. No, she was the one he had spent that evening with, and it had been the best dance he had ever experienced. She was not nobility, but she was certainly noble.

  “My Lord?” Lady Foster said, trying to get his attention. She looked at Miss Philips with a sort of panic masked by a smile, and Ronan tried to respond to her calmly.

  “Yes, yes, of course, I have. I have missed it very much. It is difficult to be so cut off from everything I know. I miss my friends and those with whom I would formerly spend time. And I missed things like walking through Hyde Park, so I am very grateful that we were able to go there,” he said.

  “And you must miss dancing with young women at balls, of course. That and conversing with others of your station who actually understand you,” she said.

  “What do you mean?” Ronan asked.

  “Well … you know,” she said, quickly glancing at Miss Philips and leaning forward. “It is difficult when one is surrounded only by the household staff. It is not as though they understand the things that you and I understand.”

  Ronan paused before responding, unsure if he really wanted to say anything at all to such a rude assumption.

  “Lady Foster, I fear that we are not in agreement on that,” he said.

  “Oh?” she asked in surprise.

  “No. I am quite fond of those who work in this estate, and I have found them to be extremely intelligent and very familiar with things in the same way I am,” he said.

  Her smile twitched, but she nodded as if she suddenly agreed.

  “I suppose you are right. Forgive me for not being more understanding. I suppose it is my own staff that I find disagreeable. Yours must be a good deal better,” she said, looking again to Miss Philips with that eye of distaste.

  Ronan looked at Miss Philips as well, only his eyes lingered. The young woman was looking at a book as if reading. But Ronan could see that her cheeks were burning. She knew they were referring to her and that they were now watching her. Try as she might, she could not hide.

  And Ronan wished she was the only woman in the room.

  Chapter 19

  The afternoon had concluded. Lady Foster, with her beauty and ingratitude and charm reserved only for those she deemed deserving of it, had finally left the estate.

  Lavender wheeled Lord Beckman through the estate back towards his room without a word. They were simply moving forward, and she was trying to ignore the pang in her chest.

  At last, however, they arrived at his room. She helped him from the chair and into his bed, all silently. They both knew how to do it with ease by now. They were both perfectly capable of getting him settled.

  Lavender, however, was anything but settled. More than that, she knew that she needed a break from the estate. She needed time to get away from the fact that her heart was betraying her by suddenly sparking an interest in this man she had considered so dislikeable when she first came to work at the estate.

  “Lord Beckman,” she said, once he was comfortably in the bed.

  “Yes, Miss Philips?” he asked as if he had been waiting for her to speak all along.

  “Now that you are beginning to feel better, I wondered if I might take a few days to visit family?” Lavender asked.

  “Family? I thought you had no family,” he said.

  She smiled uncomfortably and shrugged.

  “I have no relations by blood. But my mother had a brother who died some years ago. His wife lives in Brighton. I should very much like to go and visit her,” she said.

  Lord Beckman’s face flinched with uncertainty. It appeared as though he did not like the sound of this, that it made him uncomfortable.

  “Is it important that you go now?” he asked.

  “She is a very lonely woman. You have been doing a great deal better, and I did not wish to go until I saw this improvement in your condition. Now that you are so recovered, now that you are even able to stand on occasion, I deemed it a reasonable time,” Lavender said.

  “If you do not mind my asking, Miss Philips, were you waiting until you had money from a position which would enable you to make this journey?” he asked.

  Lavender glanced away, feeling quite embarrassed that he had managed to understand this much.

  “Yes, My Lord. I would not have been able to visit her before this. It costs more to get to Brighton than I had before. The idea of travelling without any money is frightening at best and impossible at worst,” she admitted.

  “Yes, I thought as much. Well, Miss Philips, I am glad that you now have the opportunity to go to Brighton and see your aunt. You must leave as soon as you can,” he said.

  “Thank you, Lord Beckman. I appreciate your understanding,” she said.

  But then, his manner shifted ever so slightly.

  “Miss Philips,” he said before she could leave the room.

  “Yes, My Lord?” she asked.

  “I do expect that you shall return very soon. I am only granting you this permission because I believe that you will come back after a short time,” he said, trying to make his point quite clear.

  Lavender nodded, understanding her duty.

  “Yes, Lord Beckman. I shall return quickly,” she said.

  “Very well. In that case, you must go and enjoy yourself,” he said.

  “Thank you,” Lavender replied.

  The next morning, she set off. It took a day and a half before she finally made it to Brighton, but once she was there, Lavender was thrilled. She went at once to the home of her Aunt Doris.

  “Oh, my darling girl! You are the very portrait of your mother. I know that you do not recall her appearance, but I assure you that you look quite like her,” Aunt Doris said.

  “Thank you, Aunt Doris. My father always said the same thing. I believe there were times when it made him sad,” she admitted.

  “I doubt that. It is a pleasure to see one who looks so like a lost spouse. You know, your cousin Fitzwilliam is nearly fifteen now. He is off and away at school, but whenever I do see him, he looks so like my Thomas,” she said.

  Aunt Doris brought Lavender further into the house, showing her the room in which she would sleep. It was a nice enough home, just outside of the city. There was certainly enough space for Lavender to stay and to enjoy the outdoors as well. Although her aunt was not rich, she was certainly able to take care of herself and her son.

  “Now, have a bit of tea,” she said once Lavender had settled with her in the parlour.

  “Thank you,” she replied.

  “Tell me, how is everything? I have not seen you in such a very long time. I heard about the passing of your father. That was terribly tragic,” her aunt said.

  “Yes, it was. Since then … things have been difficult. But I have work, and I am doing quite well,” Lavender said.

  “Oh? I am glad to hear that you are doing well, but I wish you had told me you were struggling before. What happened?” she asked.

  “Nothing much. Only that it is very difficult to get by without money, of course. My father left only a little behind, and it was quickly spent for the sake of a place to stay and keeping myself fed,” she said.

  “I had no idea that there was any problem, Lavender. You ought to have told me. I would have sent you money,” she said.

  “I could not ask for that. I can work,” Lavender said.

  “Yes, but you also had a place to stay. You can see that it is just me here in this house. My son is away. You would have been most welcome. You still are,” she said to Lavender’s s
urprise.

  “Come here? To stay?” she asked.

  “Of course! I am offended that you did not think of it,” Aunt Doris said, putting a hand to her chest.

  “I am sorry. I never imagined you would want to take on the burden of someone who is not even a blood relation,” she said.

  “I care nothing for blood. You are my niece, and that is all I need to know. You really ought to come here to stay,” her aunt said again.

  “Well, I am thankful for the offer, but I do have a position now. A good one,” she said.

  “What are you doing?” her aunt asked.

  “I am a maid, but I am specifically a maid to an injured man. I have used the medical knowledge I gained from my father to help him in his recovery. It has been quite a wonderful opportunity, actually,” she said.

  “A maid to an injured man?” her aunt asked as if she didn’t like the sound of it.

  “Well, yes. And it is … I have been very happy there,” she said.

  “Interesting. Well, while I am happy that you feel that way, I have to admit that I do not like the sound of it,” Aunt Doris said.

  “Why not?” Lavender asked.

  “Are there others at the house?” she asked.

  “Of course. There are his mother and many other maids. He is a marquess,” she said.

  Aunt Doris raised an eyebrow at that.

  “A marquess, you say?” she asked.

  “Indeed,” she replied.

  “In that case, I really do dislike the sound of it,” Aunt Doris said, pursing her lips.

  “But why? What is wrong with his title?” Lavender asked.

  “Men like that, my dear, they do not care about your station. They care only for your beauty. A maid is always at risk in a home with a wealthy, titled man,” she said.

  “Why do you say that?” she asked.

  “Darling, do not play the fool with me. Everyone knows that men like that tend to … abuse their position of authority. They appreciate a lovely young maid only so long as they might use her,” she said.

  “Use her?” Lavender asked.

  Her aunt took a deep breath.

  “How shall I say this delicately? Men like that wish to … to seduce young women. That is all,” she said.

  “Oh, no, he would never,” Lavender refuted.

  “Are you quite certain? Has he never gone out of his way to look in your eyes, to be gentle and tender with you, to make you feel as though you have affected him somehow?” her aunt asked.

  Lavender sat there, utterly dumbfounded. Her aunt was exactly right. The marquess had done all of those things, had made her feel special, exceptional even. He had made her feel as though she truly mattered to him and the world, as if there was something about her that could make him happy.

  “I thought as much,” Aunt Doris said, without Lavender having to say a word on the matter.

  “I assure you that it is not like that,” she said.

  “My dear, it is always like that. You may do your best to convince yourself that this marquess is only being kind or gentle because he is a good master, but you shall come to learn in time that he is as greedy with you, as desiring of you, as any man may be with any woman. You must protect yourself, Lavender,” she said.

  “I am protected. I promise. He would never try anything inappropriate. He is even pursuing a courtship with another woman,” Lavender said.

  “And wealthy men do so all the time. It does not stop them from having affairs,” she said.

  “He would never do such a thing with me,” Lavender said.

  “Only because you will be intelligent enough not to allow him. Believe me, my dear, if you give in for even a moment, this man will step in and find a way to gain your trust. He will find a weakness in you and make you think he is the strength to prop you up,” Aunt Doris said.

  “But I am not so foolish as to fall for something like that,” Lavender said, defending herself against the doubt now creeping into her mind.

  “I would never dream of saying that you are. But it does not change that I worry for you. You are a woman in a vulnerable position. Do not allow a man, even one like him, to exploit that,” Aunt Doris said.

  Lavender did not speak for a while, and her aunt noticed.

  “You care for him, do you not?” she asked.

  “I … I wish that I did not. I wish I could tell you that I think nothing at all of him. But, I fear, he does make me strangely happy,” she said.

  “Is that so? And what do you intend to do about this? Are you going to proceed forward with your feelings and allow him to sweep you away? Or will you listen to reason and understand that such a thing can only lead to your ultimate sadness?” her aunt asked.

  Ultimate sadness? Was it possible? The marquess was such a good man. Well … he had not always been thus. He really had changed since her arrival at the estate, and she had been given partial credit for that.

  Maybe her aunt was right. Maybe he was putting on a show for her, trying to manipulate her. And after the way he responded to Lady Foster, how he had allowed her to pay him a call and seemed curious as to whether or not she still cared for him, it was certainly possible that she really had been taken in by him.

  What a fool she had been! Of course, her aunt was right. It was with great pain that she had no choice other than to accept this truth.

  Lord Beckman had no intentions for her, aside from gaining her trust for his own purposes and discarding her whenever he pleased.

  Chapter 20

  Miss Philips had been gone for a day and a half. Ronan could not say why, but that half a day mattered. It mattered as if it was half an eternity upon another eternity. Yes, that was it.

  Miss Philips had been gone for an eternity and a half.

  In the time since her departure, Ronan had been bored, lonely, and thirsty. The other maids could not keep up with his tea habit or desire to go out into the gardens. Miss Stevens and Miss Quinley, another maid, had worked together to get him in the chair, but Ronan had ended up doing most of the work. By now, he was strong enough that it was not such a problem, but he would never have managed before.

  By the time Harold arrived, Ronan was desperate. He needed a companion, human contact of any kind. He craved it.

  “My goodness, you look like a wild man,” Harold said, eyeing him with concern.

  “Do I? You cannot imagine how difficult these past two days have been. I feel as if I am going mad,” he said.

  “How so? What is the problem?” Harold asked.

  “I have no company at all. The maids cannot get what I need when I need it. I am tired and also full of energy, and my foot itches terribly, but it is still difficult for me to stretch far enough, and the rod is over there,” he said, gesturing to the wooden stick Miss Philips had given him for when he needed something and couldn’t quite reach it.

  Harold blinked at him and then began to laugh as he grabbed the rod and brought it over to Ronan.