Dare to Love a Lord: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Abigail Agar

  Annis gave a little shrug, looking away. “What can I say, Uncle? You know that I would never defy Mother.”

  “Ah, I see. I knew that this would be difficult for you. Perhaps I should speak to your aunt and have her escort your sister. I know that she would not mind.”

  “No, Uncle, please, do not do so. Indeed, I did not wish to do it, but Lucilla is my sister, and I gave my word to Mother. I shall escort her, and do all that I can to ensure that everything goes as well as it possibly can. I cannot allow my past to taint her future – that would not be fair.”

  “But neither is it fair for your parents to foist this responsibility on you, Annis. I am not happy about this situation.”

  Annis smiled. “You are the only one to see things as I see them, but we have to be practical, Uncle. I am Lucilla’s escort, and if ...” She swallowed convulsively, the words dying on her tongue.

  “And if you were to see him, you would take the situation in stride?” her uncle finished.

  “Precisely,” she breathed out.

  “You may rest easy, my dear, for the scoundrel is nowhere to be seen.”

  An odd tightness entered her chest. “What do you mean? His family always attend the Season.”

  Her uncle took her by the shoulders. “Listen to me, child. Oliver Carleton has not been seen or heard from for some time. And while his family will certainly be in London, he is not. You may rest easy.”

  Annis looked down as she closed her eyes. It had been so long since anyone had spoken Oliver’s name, and now to hear it only added to her misery. Up until now, she and her family had referred to him as ‘that man’, or ‘he’, but today his name had once again reached her ears. She started when she felt callused fingers on her chin, lifting her face. Annis met the understanding grey eyes of her uncle, taking some comfort from the quiet strength he emanated.

  “Your unhappiness breaks my heart, child. It is true that I do not have any news of the man, but if I were to base my assumptions on the events of two Seasons past, I would think him married and living elsewhere. I believe that there is little to no chance of you meeting him during this Season, Annis, you have no reason to be worried.”

  She knew that her uncle sought to comfort her, but thinking about Oliver as a happily married man was a knife in her chest.

  “M-married, Uncle?”

  “Yes, dear, I am almost certain of it. Come now, there is no reason to give Carleton further thought, child, he is not worth your time. Think of the nice, wealthy, and handsome man you shall meet and marry. You are a beautiful young woman with much to offer the perfect suitor, and I am glad that you shall enter the Season once again after your first disappointment. Failure does not make you unworthy of love, Annis, it simply strengthens your character. Think on this: you are far more mature now, and less likely to have any cad fool you. You shall go into your next courtship with greater knowledge and will know the signs to look out for.”

  That was true as she had never seen Oliver’s betrayal coming until it had hit her squarely in the chest.

  “But I think that I am far more cynical than I ever used to be, Uncle. I do not think that any man is appreciative of a cynical woman.”

  “You would be surprised, dear. Not all men are narrow-minded, and not all seek simpering women with hardly an independent thought to them. You will find the man that will complement you in every way, you mark my words. Truthfully speaking, I wish that I could have that fellow Oliver before me that I may give him a piece of my mind for hurting my niece as he did.” He put his fists up, moving them back and forth. “Perhaps a bit of fisticuff would have done him some good. I have been known to tip a few settlers in my day, child, but do not tell your aunt – she thinks that I have always been this boring.”

  Annis laughed, her sombre mood lifting a notch. I have forgotten how wonderful Uncle Denis is at chasing my sorrows away.

  “Your kindness and generosity are a salve to my soul, Uncle. Thank you.”

  The older man cupped her cheek, his other hand resting on her head. “Do not let any man take away your smile, dear. I wish to see more of this Annis, the young girl who always had so much life to give. I have missed you, child.”

  “And I, you, Uncle.”

  Annis embraced his side, feeling content when he touched his lips to her hair. If only I could be this happy always, but I know that darkness will soon descend upon me.

  ***

  It was quite some time before Annis climbed the stairs to her room, her feet dragging. Her lack of sleep had finally caught up with her, and she had found herself nodding off to sleep at the dinner table. Her aunt and uncle had laughed, urging her to get some rest.

  “Uncle will likely retire soon, but Aunt and Lucilla shall continue to talk until the wee hours of the morning.”

  That suited her just fine as she would be fast asleep. She entered her room, barely aware of the new furnishings her aunt had spoken of. I shall see them in the morning; I do not have the strength to do so now. A quick change into her nightdress and she settled into bed, thankful for the scented sheets that covered her body. Aunt Corisande was fond of putting a dab or two of French lavender perfume on her sheets, swearing by the lavender’s soothing qualities. Her mind started to drift, but the one clear thought she held onto were the words her uncle had given her.

  Perhaps Uncle is indeed right. I have a second chance to right that which was wronged, namely my self-respect. I do not have to wallow in my heartbreak and the humiliation of two Seasons past, I can take this new opportunity with open hands and make the best of it. I cannot allow Oliver Carleton to continue to ruin my life while he lives in marital bliss. Oliver was her past, and she would not let him take her future.

  Mr Oliver Carleton was a man who rarely displayed his feelings. He prided himself on the ability to remain calm in the midst of turmoil, to maintain his composure when all else had succumbed to chaos. However, today he had failed miserably. Stepping down from his Phaeton, he handed the reins of his two greys to his footman, giving the young man an absent-minded pat on the shoulder.

  “Wipe them down and feed them, Daniel.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Oliver nodded, turning towards his townhouse. His butler, Mr Surrey, hurried forward to take his luggage, grunting as he lifted the single suitcase.

  “Sir, shall I have a servant prepare your bath?” he asked, slightly out of breath.

  “What?”

  “A bath, sir.”

  Oliver looked down at his travelling attire, noting the layer of dust and splashes of mud on his raiment.

  “Yes, I suppose I should. Ask Rebecca to do it; she knows just how I prefer my water.”

  “Yes, sir. I have had Cook prepare you something to eat.”

  Oliver shook his head. Food was the last thing on his mind. “I am not hungry, Surrey. However, a bit of brandy would be welcome.”

  “Certainly. I trust that the journey was good?”

  No, it was not. His foolish decision to take his Phaeton rather than the more comfortable family carriage had left him at Mother Nature’s mercy. A sudden shower of rain had wet him as well as if he had taken a dip in the River Thames, the wind had made him eat dirt, and the muddy puddles along the road on his way to London had covered him with substances that he would rather not think of.

  Oliver was not about to admit to any of this, not wishing the ‘I told you so’ to be uttered in his presence. Of course, Surrey would have never said anything of the sort, but the old man’s eyes would have twinkled with the unspoken words.

  “Yes, Surrey. Tiring, but good.”

  A brief frown crossed the man’s features, but it disappeared under a mask of polite servitude.

  “Excellent, sir. I shall ready your bed attire, or have you somewhere to be this evening?”

  And have people know that he had returned to London? I think not! Under normal circumstances, a two-year absence was enough to have one fade away from the minds of the London ton, but when one was blessed (or
rather cursed!) to be a Carleton, it would take a far greater number of years to become a distant memory.

  “No, but I shall inform my cousin of my arrival on the morrow.”

  “Very well. May I take your leave?”

  “Yes, of course, Surrey.”

  The old man gave a minuscule bow, his back too stiff to do any more. Oliver would have taken his suitcase from him, but that would have hurt the man’s pride. He watched his butler hurry back into the house, his gruff voice giving barks of command to the servants that had likely communed in the hallway. They were likely all shocked to see him, and had he not sent a letter two days prior to his arrival, he might have caught them off guard. Not that it would have bothered him in the slightest.

  In fact, he would not be in London had it not been for the business that had to be conducted in the city. This place held too many memories for him, some of them good, and the rest was better left unsaid. Oliver closed his eyes for a moment, seeing a pair of striking yellow-green eyes, and the soft curve of cupid-bowed lips. His eyes flew open, unwilling to recall anything of the woman that haunted his dreams.

  “No, no, no, she is not worth it.”

  But why did his heart violently oppose this truth? Cursing himself, he strode into his house, briefly greeting some servants before making his way to his bedchambers. A bath, some brandy, and his bed were all that he needed at this moment.

  “The brandy should rid me of some of these foolish jitters that have attacked me since the first London signage post.”

  It was not as though the woman would be here. The last he had heard, she had run back to the countryside and had probably married the first suitor there. No, she would not dare to return to London, not after the disaster of two Seasons past. Half-convinced of this likely truth, Oliver awaited his bath to be drawn, his mind a war zone of conflicting thoughts.

  “And all because of Annis Wychwood.”

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