A Marquess' Miraculous Transformation: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Abigail Agar

  “I am astonished, my friend,” he said.

  “Astonished? Why? What have I done?” he asked.

  “You think I do not know what is happening?” Harold asked.

  “I certainly am not aware, so perhaps you would like to tell me,” Ronan said.

  “Ha! Excellent. Well, here is what it is. You have begun to fall in love with your maid. She is not here. She left two days ago,” Harold said.

  “A day and a half. Not two days,” he corrected.

  Harold chuckled with great amusement.

  “Do you hear yourself? You clearly miss her. Obviously, you wish that she was still here. I can hardly blame you for that. She is beautiful and intelligent, and she seems to be rather kind. Oh, and creative. Yes, she is quite an excellent woman. But I did not think that you would be so blind,” Harold said.

  “What do you mean? You say that I miss her, and now I am blind? I hardly know what you are talking about,” Ronan said, frustrated.

  “Is that so? I, for one, think it is obvious,” Harold said.

  “Then you must inform me because I am, as you say, rather blind on the matter,” Ronan said.

  “You care deeply for her, and you cannot even admit it to yourself. You wish to know her better, but you are stuck within the confines of what is expected from a man of your position. Are you really going to try and pretend that you feel nothing for her?” Harold asked.

  “But … but I do not feel anything. She is my …” Ronan trailed off.

  He realized that he had a choice. He could continue to refute that he cared for his maid or be honest with Harold and himself. He could use this opportunity to share the overwhelming confusion he had been feeling over the past few weeks.

  “I do not know what to do,” he finally said.

  “At least you are admitting it now. I was growing mad with your inability to see it before,” Harold said.

  “So you have been able to tell for quite some time? It is no surprise to you?” Ronan asked.

  “Not in the least. You clearly care for her. You respect her in a way I have never seen you show respect to anyone aside from your mother and men who are equal to us,” Harold said.

  “And what am I meant to do about it? I liked Lady Foster. Truly, I did. I cared so much for her. But now? I find her …” he trailed off again.

  “Irredeemable?” Harold asked.

  “I should hate to say that because I know there were many who found me to be much the same. But … yes. I find her irredeemable. She is not nearly so interesting as I formerly thought. I have no interest in her petty gossip. And she is not kind. I never noticed it before,” Ronan said.

  “I think you did. I remember once you complained that she never saw a servant in the room unless she needed something from them. You were never quite so bad as that,” Harold said.

  “Perhaps. But I still thought better of her before. I thought she was a good woman and exactly the sort that I would have done well to spend my life with,” he said.

  “And now you have seen that she is shallow and very much not the sort you would wish to be with. But what of it? Do you have any intention of telling her that? Or are you going to allow her to push you back into the courtship she abandoned?” Harold asked.

  “It is not even just that. You see, my confusion lies in the fact that maybe I do still have feelings for her. I am just not sure. What if I make this choice, I leave it all behind, and I try to forget about her … only to find that she was the best option for me?” he asked.

  “You think you could never find another woman who would wish to marry you?” Harold scoffed. “You are a marquess, Ronan. You are a young, wealthy, titled man. There will always be women interested in someone like you.”

  “But are they the sort of woman I would want to be with? If my complaint about Lady Foster is that she has no depth, would I not be trading this opportunity for another one with another woman who only wishes to marry me for the sake of my title and wealth? I see very little about this scenario that is appealing,” he said.

  “And what of the other option?” Harold asked.

  “What other option?” Ronan asked.

  “The one you truly want,” Harold said.

  “And what do you presume that to be?” Ronan asked.

  “The one in which you are allowed to court and marry that maid of yours,” Harold said.

  Ronan laughed, embarrassed.

  “Where do you get that idea?” he asked.

  “You know, it is a very special skill I have. Here is what I do,” Harold said, beginning as if he was going to share some deep secret ability. “I open my eyes; I look at your face, I see that you are staring at your maid with the faintest hint of a smile. And then? I know.”

  For a moment, they said nothing, simply stared at each other and blinked. At last, Ronan smiled and shook his head.

  “Remind me why I am friends with you,” he teased with sarcasm, annoyed by Harold’s mocking.

  “Because I see what you do not,” Harold replied.

  “Well, you are fortunate then. As for me, I fear that I will never see a time in which I can have what I really want. You know, Miss Philips is such a sweet woman. I really would love to get to know her better. But it is not an option,” he said.

  “I know. It is unfortunate. But it does not mean that you must marry Lady Foster either. Maybe, one day, you will find a woman you do love. Perhaps there will be a lady who makes you happy,” Harold said.

  “I should like that very much. I do not know if it will ever come to pass, but it would be nice. It is difficult enough, liking this woman when I know that we may never be together,” he said.

  “Society is a cruel thing. Honestly, why can you not marry her? There is no good reason for it. Only the rules of a city which loves to put people in classes and then gossip about them,” Harold said.

  “Yes, it is true. Ever since I began to recognize the feelings I have for Miss Philips, that has been on my mind,” he said.

  “Tell me, would you ever push aside those expectations? I mean, if society could be ignored, if you could disregard what you were told you must do and who you must marry, would you?” Harold asked.

  Ronan had to take a moment to consider it. He had never thought about something like that. If it was an option, it was not one he had ever imagined. It was something he would be taking a great risk to do. And if he chose to take that risk, he might never again be able to go back to the life he had led previously.

  “Do you think it is possible?” he asked.

  “Anything is possible. But is it realistic? Only you may answer that. There would be consequences, certainly. Are you willing to accept them? Are you willing to do something which society would greatly frown upon? You could be ostracized, and your Miss Philips would certainly face many struggles. The women of England would be merciless,” Harold warned.

  “Indeed, they would. I cannot imagine Miss Philips would do well to handle women like that. She is far too gentle and reasonable,” Ronan said.

  “But you could still make that choice. It is entirely up to you. Do you want it? Would you be happy?” Harold asked.

  Would he be happy? Would Miss Philips be the one he would marry if given the choice?

  Yes. She would. There was no one else who even came close.

  “My goodness, I can already see it in your eyes. You do wish to be married to her. Why have you not moved forward, Ronan? It is entirely up to you what you do,” Harold said.

  “But as you have reminded me, it would be difficult for her as well. Besides, Lady Foster may still consider a claim upon me,” he said.

  “A claim upon you? She has no claim,” Harold said.

  “I believe she would say otherwise. We were beginning a courtship. I fear that she would not take kindly to learning that I have chosen to court my maid instead,” he said, the warning in his voice.

  “No, she would not. But she was the one to abandon you in your time of need. Does she really think you would si
mply pick up again and begin courting her when she chose to come back into your life?” Harold asked.

  It was an excellent question. But Ronan already knew the answer.

  Yes. She believed that.

  He imagined there would be a great deal of conflict if he made this choice, but was that the most important part? After all, it was his life and his choices. If he wanted to pursue Miss Philips, that was up to him. Even if it was completely ridiculous to think that he would ever be able to marry her.

  For the rest of the day, Ronan pondered the conversation and what it meant for him. The idea of marrying a maid was nearly unbelievable, and he wondered why he was even allowing himself to entertain the idea.

  There were rules in society that must be followed and people who would have to grant permission. There was not one person—aside from Harold and, perhaps, his mother—who would ever allow for such a thing.

  Ronan and Miss Philips would both be hung at the noose of society, pronounced dead to the world of England. They would never have anything beautiful or romantic.

  Even if that was what he wanted.

  Chapter 21

  Lavender returned to the estate, and her heart was already heavy with the weight of her care for Lord Beckman. She had both yearned to return to the estate and dreaded it. The paradox was infuriating, but it no longer surprised her.

  Lord Beckman was constantly on her mind. She wished that she could simply be rid of these feelings that had overcome her when there was no possibility of them meaning anything more.

  When had this even happened? She had utterly detested the marquess when she first came to the estate. His change in demeanour had been so quick and sudden that she thought he must have been a good man all along, just that he was spoiled and unappreciative at first. There was no other explanation for it.

  Now, however, she was seeing him for who he really was. Lord Beckman was a good man, after all. He was kind and gentle. But he was also trying to discern whether or not he was in love with the woman who had already betrayed him, and the pain of that was more than Lavender could truly bear.

  She made it to the estate and readied herself to see him. When she entered, she greeted a few of the maids and briefly saw Melora as well.

  “You must go to him right away,” Melora said.

  Lavender sighed, sadness in her eyes. She wasn’t ready yet.

  “I am serious, Lavender. I can see that he has missed you. There is just something about the way he is behaving. It is different. Not mean like before, but not as gracious either. He is sad, but confused,” Melora said.

  Lavender didn’t understand. She couldn’t comprehend why he was making it all so difficult. Nevertheless, she decided to be bold and make her way through the house to find Lord Beckman.

  He was not in his room but rather seated on the balcony in a normal chair instead of his wheelchair. He really must have improved if he were able to do this.

  Lavender was happy for him, although she imagined that it must mean she would not be needed much longer to stay by his side and assist him directly.

  She cleared her throat and he turned to her, his eyes wide with something akin to relief upon seeing her.

  “Miss Philips,” he said, her name sounding beautiful on his lips.

  “Lord Beckman. It is good to see you again,” she said with a curtsey.

  “And you. I have truly missed having you here, Miss Philips. It was difficult to be without you. You cannot imagine how hard it was,” he said.

  “Is that so? I would not have thought as much. You have a whole staff at your disposal,” she said.

  He paused before replying to her.

  “That is not the sort of difficulty I meant,” he said, with great meaning in his tone.

  Lavender understood. It was not that it was difficult without her assistance. It was just difficult for him without her presence. Something about that caused her to feel shy.

  “I am sorry if it was an inconvenience for you,” she said. But Lavender did not wish to dwell on this. She deemed it best to change the subject.

  Gesturing to the chair, she smiled.

  “It appears as though you are making your way around with greater ease,” she said.

  “Yes, I suppose so. I am trying, anyway,” he said.

  “That is excellent. I am happy that you have continued to make such great progress in my absence,” Lavender said.

  “I do not know that it has been so great. I am merely doing my utmost to achieve what I may. But, in truth, I believe that my progress was minimal while you were away,” he said.

  “In that case, shall I help you?” she offered.

  Lord Beckman nodded, and she assisted him in standing. Then, slowly, she let go.

  The marquess began to walk forward. It was a strange gait, and he looked uncomfortable, perhaps with a little bit of pain. But he was able to do what was needed, and she was pleased that he did not give up. Instead, he continued to walk, proceeding forward as best he could until he reached the door to reenter his room.

  “Excellent! You are doing so well. Do you need assistance, or would you like to walk back on your own?” she asked.

  He flashed her a proud smile.

  “I shall do it on my own,” he said, taking another step.

  Once he was inside, Lord Beckman sat on his bed and allowed himself to rest.

  “I am astonished. You are doing very well. I had no idea that you would manage it so well,” she said.

  “Thank you. I also did not expect to be able to accomplish this. However, I know that I must credit you with my ability to walk,” he said.

  “Me? How so?” she asked.

  “You have encouraged me. Every step of the way, you were there to tell me I could get through this difficult season. I would not have heard it from anyone else. I honestly believe that you are the reason I can walk again. No one else could have got me this far,” he said.

  Lavender was humbled and somewhat embarrassed by his words. She had never thought of herself as being so great as he was making her out to be. But it really was nice to be thought of so highly. She was honoured that Lord Beckman would praise her like this.

  “Thank you, My Lord. You are too kind in your support of me,” she said.

  “No, I think I am not kind enough. You really do deserve all of the credit,” he said.

  “You put in a great deal of work to achieve this,” she replied.

  For a moment, their eyes locked on one another again. It had happened quite a few times before she left, but now Lavender was more sensitive to it. Now, she knew how much she cared for him and how unrealistic it was that they would ever be happy together.

  “Miss Philips, would you like to sit and have tea?” he suddenly offered.

  Lavender was surprised by such a proposal but also honoured and delighted. The idea of sitting to have tea with Lord Beckman was a dream. Not simply because it was a chance to rest in the home of a noble, as an equal, but because it was he who invited her.

  “Are you quite certain, My Lord?” she asked.