A Marquess' Miraculous Transformation: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Abigail Agar

He laughed at her caution and nodded enthusiastically.

  “I am most certain. You are welcome to come and have tea. I fear that I must ask you to make it first, which would be fine if it were only me drinking as usual, but I expect you will not deem me rude for the request,” he said, smiling apologetically.

  Lavender smiled shyly, humbled by this opportunity. The last thing she had anticipated was the opportunity to drink tea with him. Still, she was grateful.

  After making the tea and bringing it back to the room, they decided to return to the balcony, where it was far nicer to sit. There was a gentle breeze, and the air was fresh and clean. It was a dream to simply sit and rest in the midst of it.

  “Try it,” Lord Beckman said, gesturing to the tea.

  Lavender did as he said and was astonished by the taste of it.

  “This is incredible. It’s almost … peppery,” she said, not sure how to describe the tea.

  “Yes, I suppose it is. It is also called holy basil. It is quite a lovely and unique taste, is it not?” he asked.

  “It truly is. You were right about it. My goodness, I have never tasted anything quite like it,” Lavender said.

  “You are welcome to try it at any time. We have it imported because my father loved it, and I started drinking it from a young age. It is said to have healing powers, to generate good health,” he said.

  “Really? Do you think it works?” she asked.

  “Perhaps,” Lord Beckman said with a shrug. “Either way, I very much enjoy it. What else matters?”

  “True, I suppose. That is the most important part. But I am grateful that you are allowing me to enjoy it with you. It really is unique,” she said again.

  Lavender wasn’t sure what else to say. How could she express that she was happy not just to be drinking the tea but to have the experience of drinking it with him? She could hardly tell him that he had grown to be important to her. And how would Lady Foster respond if she found out about this? Surely it would create problems.

  For a moment, Lavender considered asking him about it. She wanted to know what he thought, how he would have expected a woman like her to react to his time drinking tea with another woman. She also wanted to know if he cared. After all, if it mattered to him, if he would be worried about upsetting her, did that not show that he really must still care for her?

  Lavender knew this was a dangerous game she was playing. She knew that it would be a problem if she was the reason for a rift between the two of them. And if Lady Foster turned out to be truly angry at Lavender, it could risk the position Lavender had found for herself at the estate. She might be forced to find new work elsewhere.

  But they were enjoying themselves and beginning to talk about little things, like the history of the estate and how the marquess’s great-grandfather had planted the apple trees.

  “He loved the apple trees more than anything. I think it was the whole basis for the garden. He wanted everything to centre around the apple trees,” he said.

  “They are beautiful, so tall and full,” Lavender said.

  “Yes, they are. But I ought to be ashamed of talking about them so much. You must be terribly bored,” he said.

  “No, not at all!” Lavender exclaimed.

  “You think you have to say that, to be polite. But I know that nothing is interesting about it. Anyway, I would like to know more about you,” he said.

  “You already know all there is,” she replied.

  “I do not know what it must have felt like when you lost everything you knew, everything you thought you had,” he said.

  Lavender nodded. He was right. But she was not quite ready to share something so personal. The last thing she wanted was to have to go into those details with him.

  “It was difficult, but I have found a way to overcome it,” she said.

  “You are very dignified,” Lord Beckman said.

  “I do not know about that. I am only doing my best,” she replied.

  “It is true. I wish you saw that you are worth more than you believe yourself to be,” he said.

  Lavender was torn between gratitude for his words and wishing he would stop being so kind. She did not wish to hear these things, not when he was still trying to decide whether he would pursue Lady Foster again.

  Instead of allowing herself to enjoy the conversation with him any further, Lavender needed to be free of the interaction entirely.

  “I ought to get all of this cleaned up,” she said, taking the teacups.

  “Oh? Already?” he asked.

  “Yes, yes. Forgive me, but I have duties to which I must attend,” she said.

  Lavender stood and began to leave but turned to see the marquess standing and struggling to maintain his strength.

  “I am so sorry; I ought to have assisted you,” she said, putting down the cups. Lavender rushed to his side as he came through the door of the balcony and into his bedroom.

  But then, Lord Beckman stumbled. His weight fell on Lavender entirely, and she had not been prepared for it. Unable to steady herself, she fell to the floor, as did he.

  It all happened so quickly, but they ended up lying next to one another, sore and stunned. Lavender looked at Lord Beckman as he lay there beside her. Unable to stop themselves, they each broke into a laugh.

  Chapter 22

  Ronan had been in a distinctly good mood now that Miss Philips was back, and they had enjoyed their time with one another the previous day. She had been busy that morning, but he was waiting for the next moment in which he would have time with her.

  Unfortunately, however, he was alerted that Lady Foster had come to pay a call. This was a surprise for many reasons. Not only because she was so inconsistent with her interest in Ronan, but also because of his own lack of desire to see her.

  When she did arrive, coming to sit with him in the garden where they would be in view of his mother and the servants and without the need of an immediate chaperone, Ronan found himself wishing that she would simply leave again.

  Instead, she appeared more determined than ever to make things right.

  “Lord Beckman, you are doing so very well. I am shocked by your progress. I was not aware of your strength until this season in which you have overcome so much. It is most admirable,” she said.

  “Thank you, Lady Foster,” Ronan replied, stiffly. He did not wish to be rude with her, but he also felt no warmth when speaking with her. She was too syrupy, too desperate, and sickly sweet.

  “I mean it. But I cannot understand why you are so cold with me,” she said, appearing to have taken offence.

  “I did not mean any harm by it. I am only trying to be settled here and to understand what it is that you are hoping for,” he replied.

  “What I am hoping for? Well, for one, I should like a civil discourse with you,” she said, frustrated.

  “I am being perfectly civil,” Ronan replied.

  “No, you are not. Civility would require that you actually speak with me. You are only answering my questions and giving the faintest hint of a response. There is nothing about your demeanour which would suggest that you have any desire for my company,” she complained.

  Ronan could not disagree with her on that point. He wished that she would take it to mean, quite logically, that she was better off departing from the estate and making her way home. He did not need this distraction. Lady Foster was not the woman he wanted to be with any longer.

  “Come, now, Lord Beckman. Be reasonable. Do you really think that I am not worthy of your time? Have I fallen so short of what you are seeking that you care nothing at all for me?” she asked.

  “Lady Foster, I said nothing of the sort. Rather, I should like to think that I am simply being respectful of your time and listening to what you have to say. I am not entirely sure of the reason for your visit, so I would like to be ready to hear when you share it with me,” he said, thinking it was the best answer he could possibly give.

  Lady Foster pursed her lips and paused. For a moment, Rona
n did not know at all what she was going to say, and he couldn’t begin to guess whether she would respond kindly.

  “Well, Lord Beckman, I suppose that is a reasonable answer. You ought to know that I think very highly of you. By now, you must understand where my heart is at. You must know that … well, that I did miss you while you were indisposed,” she said, batting her eyelashes sweetly.

  Ronan wondered if she was faking this for his benefit or if she really believed that she had done nothing wrong, nothing worthy of his offence. Was he overreacting? Was Lady Foster simply ignorant of how she had hurt him?

  Deciding there was only one way he could find out, Ronan sighed and decided to speak.

  “Lady Foster, I have to confess something to you,” he said.

  “Yes? What is it?” she asked.

  “I was deeply wounded by the fact that you did not come to see me when I was injured. You paid me no mind. Your letter to me was dismissive at best. I had it in my head, as did others, that you wished for no further communication with me,” he said.

  Lady Foster glanced away from him. Was it shame in her eyes? Or was it a calculating attempt to find an excuse?

  “My goodness, Lord Beckman…” she said, trailing off.

  “Yes? What do you have to say?” he asked.

  “I wish that you had told me sooner how you perceived my response to you. I never meant to hurt you thusly. I was only trying to give you the time and space to recover, which I thought you needed. I wish I had known that I was mistaken. I would have returned at once to try and make things right,” she said.

  “Is that so?” Ronan asked, not entirely convinced yet. Still, he was willing to believe her if she seemed genuine. But he could not yet discern whether she was. There was something about her that appeared to him as either very regretful or deeply conniving.

  “Yes, it is. I fear that I was utterly foolish. Here, I thought you wished for privacy, and I allowed myself to be ignorant of your actual need for friendship in the midst of it. You see, I heard through gossip that you were embarrassed by what took place and that you felt the need to remain out of the eye of the public for a season,” she said.

  He eyed her for a moment longer, still uncertain. Of course, he wanted to believe her. Ronan wanted to think that she was respectful enough of him that Lady Foster was being honest. No matter how little he found he trusted her, he truly wanted to believe that she was being truthful and that she had made a simple mistake.

  And yet, he could not imagine it being so.

  “I am truly, so terribly sorry. I did not mean to abandon you in your time of need,” she said, fluttering her lashes once more.

  “Yes, you have said as much,” Ronan replied.

  “I worry that you think it was intentional. Oh, how I did not wish to abandon you in your time of need! It was purely an accident. I thought I was doing the right thing, and I only ended up hurting you. My goodness, you must have been so disappointed to think that I would not continue to cast my interest upon you,” she said.

  “I am perfectly all right, Lady Foster,” Ronan replied.

  “Clearly, you are not. You thought that I was careless, and it breaks my heart to know that you felt betrayed by me. Yes, indeed, it must have been painful,” she said.

  Ronan did not want to let on that she was right. He didn’t think she could possibly understand, and in many ways, he didn’t want her to. What he truly wanted, more than anything, was to express how little he valued her opinion. Whether it was true or not, he needed her to think that he cared nothing at all for her.

  And yet, no matter how much he wanted to remove her from his life, Ronan also knew that he had a difficult truth to face.

  He had to be married.

  Whether he liked it or not, the time had come when he should find a wife. He wanted his mother to be vibrant with life when he had children. He wanted to find someone with whom he could spend his life and enjoy the bliss of a marital union.

  And if he did not choose to be married to Lady Foster, who would he choose? He knew that he would most definitely want someone like Miss Philips, but he would never be allowed to marry a maid.

  Indeed, there was no choice in the matter. He would have to at least consider Lady Foster again. Even if the very thought of it made him cringe, there was nothing he could do about it. She was, quite possibly, his only choice.

  Ronan made the firm decision that he would let himself think about it for a season before making a choice. He knew that he did not want to rush the matter, but that he would have to choose soon enough, even if he did not wish to.

  There were so many factors involved in choosing what he did and didn’t want. But what Ronan knew without a doubt was that his heart was not being obedient to him or to the society in which he lived.

  By the time Lady Foster left, he was determined that he would have to find some redeeming quality in her if he were going to choose to marry her. He would find something about her to be worth his efforts and worth his hopes. But beyond that, he would have to learn to forgive her for whatever had happened in the past.

  He would have to forgive her whether he pursued a match with her or not. It was not healthy to hold such a grudge against her when he really felt sorry for her and knew that he was deserving of better treatment.

  “Ronan,” his mother called from the drawing room.

  He made his way to her, rolling his chair down the hallway. Although he was trying to stand and walk much more now, there were times when he was simply too exhausted. After the meeting with Lady Foster, he found himself in exactly that state.

  “Mother, you called?” he asked.

  “Yes, Ronan. I am concerned about you,” she said.

  “About me? Why? What have I done that concerns you?” he asked.

  “Well, the thing is, I have seen Lady Foster around again. She has come to pay a call?” she asked.

  Ronan nodded in disappointment.

  “Yes, she has,” he replied.

  “I thought that you no longer intended to pursue Lady Foster,” his mother said.

  “For some time, it was not my plan. This decision has been a difficult one, but I believe that I ought to consider her at least,” he said.

  “Why? She did not treat you very well. She rejected and abandoned you when you needed her to show you care and compassion,” she said.

  “I know that, Mother. But I really do believe that she is a good woman, just … oh, I cannot say,” he said, growing frustrated. Did he really believe that she was a good woman?

  “Why do you think you need to give her any more of your attention? Has she not made it clear to you already that you aren’t so interesting to her? Would she not have come to see you during your trials if she was, indeed, a decent woman?” his mother asked.

  Ronan heard what she was saying, but he still did not want to think about it. She was being unfair. Or maybe he was being ignorant. Either way, he believed that Lady Foster would not be able to hide her true nature for long and, if she were really a good woman, he would know it soon enough.

  If she were not, he would know that as well. She would not be able to pretend otherwise, even if she made every effort.

  Until that day came, he would just have to try and convince himself to accept someone who was less than perfect because the most perfect woman he knew was the one woman with whom he could not share a future.