Regency Bride Series: Regency Romance Box Set

by Locke, Laura

  The next morning they departed early – not before Francis had his breakfast.

  “And you wouldn't think anyone could make such excellent kedgeree, now would you?” he was still enthusing as they went to the main road to wait for the stage-coach together. “I've always been fond of kedgeree. But never had one so nice.”

  “Oh, Francis,” Cornelia admonished. She looked so happy, Pauline thought, in her pale pink traveling-cloak and bonnet with pink ribbons below her chin.

  “Well, it's true,” he said with mock-indignation. “Oh, here we are! Whoa, man!” he called, raising a hand to hail the stage-coach as it plunged past, team of horses pawing the ground to dust.

  The ride back was seemingly much faster than the ride to Dorset had been, Pauline found. She had been so full of tension on the way; now she slept often. I am still tired from all that I have heard.

  They arrived at Henry and Matilda's home in time for luncheon. Francis and Cornelia stayed for the meal, then returned to Pauline's home, where Cornelia would stay for another week before returning home with her mother.

  After lunch, Pauline took herself up to the drawing-room to be alone. She needed time to think. To plan how she was going to tell Valerian.

  I need to go for a walk to gather my thoughts.

  She shrugged into her slate-blue coat, surprised she had chosen it. It was her smarter coat and matched her grayed blue day-dress perfectly. It seemed a trifle elaborate for walking in the fields. But if she had learned one thing it was to follow her instincts. She tied her white bonnet with its blue riband under her chin and went out.

  It was a sunny afternoon, just lengthening to evening. She chose a route that went up to the crest of the hill and stood looking out over the valley, in the place she had shared with Valerian so many times.

  He is who I always knew he was. He is the best of men.

  She turned and, sighing, walked back down again. Near the estate, she heard a voice call her name. It sent shivers of wonder through her.

  “Pauline?”

  “Valerian!”

  He was standing facing her. He had a soft smile on his lean face, his black hair curly and blue-sheened in the evening.

  “I mourned your long absence,” he said gently. Pauline felt his voice stroke down her spine like shivers of joy. She could no longer conceal her happiness. She beamed.

  “Valerian,” she said. “I know now.”

  He frowned at her, his smile quirked. “Know?” he asked.

  “Valerian! I know about the story. Romilly. What you did. Know who you are. Who you were. It's no longer between us!”

  Valerian frowned, then his face cleared. He bit his lip. “Pauline?” he said, a hesitant look on his face. “You mean..?” he frowned. “I don't understand.”

  “Valerian!” she said, elated, “I heard such awful tales of you! Now I know the truth. I am so, so happy!”

  She embraced him and he put his arms round her, holding her close. When she had sobbed on his chest, then sniffed, slowing, he put his hands on her shoulder, looked into her eyes.

  “Pauline,” he said softly. “I am glad you know. But tell me, please, how you knew? Where did you come by this knowledge of me?”

  Pauline sighed. She looked up at him. “Cornelius – you know, the man my mother intended me to wed – he told me the lie. Romilly told me.”

  Valerian's face changed, his expression one of utter surprise. “Romilly? Wait...Pauline, how did you find out? And Romilly? You saw her? She spoke to you? Told you?”

  Pauline nodded. She let out a shaky breath, wanting to laugh. He was so surprised!

  “When I heard about...what people said, I asked questions,” she explained. They walked together slowly down the path. She was glad she had worn her best dress, for it made her feel more confident in meeting him.

  “You asked questions. About me?” he asked. There was a lift of wonder in his voice, as if he couldn't quite believe she had sufficient interest to ask after him. She grinned.

  “I did. Discreet ones, you understand. Nothing vaguely personal. I was trying to find out more about you. Who you are.”

  “And did you?” he asked, smilingly.

  “I found out a lot of things,” she confessed, grinning. He chuckled.

  “Whoa!” he grinned. “Don't tell me. I shudder to think what my colleagues in the forces had to say of me.”

  “Strangely, they all described you as polite, scrupulous...gentlemanly.” she smiled at him, eyes bright.

  “Strangely, she says!” he guffawed. “Am I not?”

  “Valerian Harrington, stop fishing for compliments. Let me tell the story.”

  “Yes, my lady.” He pulled a contrite face and they both laughed.

  “Well, when I found out about the name Romilly Dashwood, I had to investigate.”

  “Who told you?” he asked.

  “Cornelius. The liar,” she said angrily. “Why he should hate you so much is a mystery to me. But he...” she broke off, Valerian was laughing.

  “Pauline, how can that be a mystery to you...of all things!”

  “What?”

  “The man wants to marry you. He is jealous. Of me.”

  Pauline flushed. “Oh...” she grinned, a little dazed. Then she giggled, self-consciously.

  “You silly goose,” he smiled. Pauline pulled a face. He giggled.

  “Well, I was telling you,” Pauline continued.

  “Yes,” Valerian nodded. “Where did you see Romilly? How is she?”

  “I traveled to Dorset,” Pauline relayed. “And she's well.” She frowned. “She told me the story.. And she is very grateful; to you,” she finished. “As am I.”

  “As are you?” Valerian asked, looking at her with a puzzled expression.

  “I am grateful, yes, Valerian,” she said, stopping before him. She looked up into his eyes. Put her hands on his shoulders. “For being the dearest, kindest and most caring man I have ever met.”

  Valerian blinked. His throat worked and Pauline felt the shiver of his heartbeat through the thin fabric of his shirt, against her own. She pushed her bonnet back so she could rest her head on his chest and stayed there a while. She looked up at him and he looked down at her. His face was tender. “And I am grateful too,” he said softly. “For your trust in me. You heard such ill of me yet you did not believe it. I thank you.”

  “There is nothing to thank me for,” Pauline croaked.

  “I do anyway,” Valerian whispered. “And I need to confess something.”

  “What?” Pauline asked, feeling tense suddenly.

  “I love you.”

  Pauline stared up into his eyes. She felt her senses swim. It seemed as if, somewhere in her heart, an orchestra was playing symphonies. Her soul danced to the music, giddy; soaring on wings of love.

  “I love you, too,” she whispered.

  In the lavender of dusk, the soft whisper of crickets the only sound for miles, the scent of dew drifting from the mowed-fields, they kissed.

  After, Valerian embraced her and held her to his chest. She rested her head on him and listened to the steady, even rhythm of his heart. She hugged his waist.

  “Valerian?” she whispered, looking up into his face.

  “You're the missing duke, aren't you?” she asked.

  He smiled. “Remind me never to fool you.”

  Pauline stared up at him, amazed. She rested her head on his chest again and he breathed in the scent of her hair. At length, she put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him.

  When he looked down at her, he was smiling, a little ruefully.

  “You know, now,” he said, giving her a grin. “So what can I do? I suppose I should come out into the open once again.”

  Pauline nodded. “As you wish. Or not. Valerian Harrington, first lieutenant of cavalry, is perfect for me.”

  Valerian looked into her eyes, his own blinking rapidly. “I thank you,” he said softly.

  “For what?” Pauline asked.

  “F
or saying it doesn't matter to you that I have no title.”

  “Oh, Valerian!” she laughed. “How could it matter to me? Inside, you are worth a thousand dukes. How can you not understand that?”

  He smiled. He drew a hand down the side of her face, stroking her cheek. “Pauline,” he murmured. “I love you.”

  He kissed her, passionately.

  When they drew apart, she parted her lips to say she loved him too. He held up a finger.

  “Wait,” he said, surprising her. “I must ask you something. And now, while I dare.”

  “What?” Pauline asked, though in her heart she knew. It thrummed steadily.

  “Will you marry me?”

  Pauline laughed. In her head a thousand violins played and her heart soared. “I will.”

  Chapter 29

  They walked to her home together. She spent the night at Matilda and Henry's mansion, then traveled early the next morning to her own home. She had to speak to her father and mother.

  She greeted her mother, had morning tea with her and Cornelia, then went up to her father's study. There, she filled him in on all the details.

  “And so,” he said when she was finished, “who would have thought he'd turn out to be the Duke of Anglesy? Astounding, what?”

  Pauline smiled dazzlingly at her father. “It is indeed.”

  “Well, upon my word. What a remarkable fellow,” her father said, shaking his head. “Is he about?”

  “I think he's in Braxley at the moment,” Pauline said warmly. “He needed to buy groceries – his manservant's taken sick.”

  As she said it, she caught her father's amazed look and they both laughed.

  “I know, Father,” she chuckled. “I wouldn't have thought the duke of Anglesy would be in the village shop. But he was!”

  “Astounding,” her father murmured. Anyone would think, Pauline thought fondly, that Valerian Harrington was a two-headed man or some other odd phenomenon – he was a duke, buying groceries! She laughed.

  “Well, Father?” she asked gravely. “What say you?”

  “What can I say?” he grinned.

  She looked into his eyes. “Thank you, father,” she murmured, feeling her eyes fill with tears. “Oh, thank you.”

  “May you be happy, my daughter,” he said gently. He squeezed her hand. She squeezed back and they sat like that for quite a while. They had always had a bond between them. What they had to say to each other now went beyond words.

  At length, Pauline cleared her throat. “Well, then, I suppose I should go down.”

  “I'll come down too,” he said, stretching expansively. “I have a lot to say.”

  Pauline smiled. It was so thoughtful of him to say he would take up the matter with her mother. Convincing her would likely not be easy, but Pauline felt sure he would make a better attempt than herself.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “Don't mention it,” he said fondly. “Now, this Valerian. He has considered trying to reclaim the dukedom?”

  “I don't know,” Pauline replied. “He may have been disinherited, but...”

  “But it's vacant,” her father pointed out. “I feel sure that, for the sake of having a duke fill the seat, the Crown might intervene on his behalf. What think you?”

  “I haven't considered it,” she admitted. “Nor, I think, would he.”

  “Well, then,” her father said, patting her hand fondly. “It's good I did. I'll tell him.”

  Pauline beamed at him. “Oh, thank you, Father.”

  “Not at all. Now off you go. I'm sure you have a lot to think about.”

  “Yes, Father,” Pauline nodded.

  “My dear Pauline. I could not have wished for more.”

  “Nor I, Papa,” she whispered, squeezing his hand. He squeezed back. “Nor I.”

  The first thing she did was to ride to the estate to tell Matilda. The first thing Matilda did – apart from embracing her and getting damp-eyed, was plan a shopping trip.

  “For we have to find stuff for the wedding gown, Pauline! Oh, this is so exciting...I shall wear blue, I think. And you will have orange blossom in your hair?”

  Pauline grinned. “Whoa, sister,” she said, raising a hand in mock-surrender. “I don't know yet.”

  Matilda laughed. “I'm sorry, my dear sister,” she said, embracing her. They were in the hallway and Matilda was a little out of breath after walking along the hall. “I do get slightly overexcited.”

  “It's no bad thing,” Pauline said, smiling. “I assure you, I'm more excited than ever.”

  “That's the best news.”

  “Yes,” Pauline smiled, squeezing her sister closer. “Yes it is.”

  The wedding was in late summer. Pauline chose pearl white silk and had flowers of the orange tree in her hair.

  “And milady, you look lovely,” her maid enthused, covering her mouth with her hand as she stepped back, admiring the effect.

  Pauline looked at herself in the mirror. A tall woman, clad in white, her face a perfect oval, dark eyes sparkling, looked back. She was willowy and the dress fell to her feet, the sleeves wispy chiffon and the neckline showing the pearls that graced her neck.

  I have never seen myself look so lovely.

  It was not just the dress, she decided as she bent a little for her maid to set the veil. It was the look in her eyes, the warmth in her smile; the flush in her cheek.

  I am about to wed Valerian. The best man I have ever known.

  She sighed. Her heart was giddy with excitement and she could not wait to see him. She shyly accepted the bouquet from her maid.

  “There you are, milady,” her maid said, sniffing back a sob. “Off you go.”

  Pauline was touched. She patted the woman's shoulder fondly and then headed down the stairs. Her father took her hand and escorted her to the coach. Then they were off to the chapel.

  The wedding, they had decided, would be in Braxley. It was easier for all the family to attend. Pauline slipped shyly down from the coach and let her father lead her along the aisle.

  She looked around, eyes misted as she saw the pews filled with all her loved-ones. Then she saw Valerian and she could look nowhere else.

  Tall and dressed in black he stood at the altar. He should have been facing Father Helmsley, who was about to begin the ceremony, but he turned. Saw her. Smiled.

  His smile spiraled through her. Her heart was drowning in honey and she could not think of anything more. She took a place beside him and smiled up at him. The priest cleared his throat.

  “Dearly beloved!” he began, addressing the congregation as he began the well-known lines of the ritual. Pauline listened for a while, then found her thoughts drifting to the man who stood, so find and handsome, at her side.

  She said her vows and Valerian said hers. They exchanged rings, her pulse thrumming as he lifted her finger and slid it, so gently, onto her finger.

  “And you may kiss the bride.”

  Valerian turned to her then. His eyes were twin pools of violet water. He dropped his mouth to hers and kissed her with all the tenderness and passion of their love. It was a kiss that left her gasping, her senses swimming, her heart fiery.

  She looked up into his eyes and he looked down into hers.

  The wedding was done. They were man and wife.

  Smiling, her heart soaring, they walked out of the church together. Her family lined the steps and threw flowers and nuts, wishes of good luck. Pauline smiled.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, embracing her father. “Thank you.” She held Matilda, pink-clad and fragrant, to her chest. Arabella slumbered in Henry's arms and she kissed the babe then went to the coach.

  Valerian, smiling tenderly at her, helped her in.

  Then they were speeding away, along the country roads, the dust warm in the summer air, the larks ahead in a clear blue sky. Speeding toward their new life.

  Epilogue

  “Valerian,” Pauline murmured. She was standing at the window, looking out over th
e grass beyond.

  “Yes, sweetling?”

  “I think we have a big enough rose garden, what say you?”

  Valerian chuckled. “Let me see.” He came and stood beside her, his arms wrapping her close. They looked out over Anglesey House's extensive garden together.

  “I think we could extend it,” he said into her hair. “After all, that was a lot of roses you ordered.”

  “A lot?” Pauline twisted to face him. “You think so?”

  “Well, twenty new shrubs could be called a lot,” he grinned.

  Pauline blushed and laughed lightly. “I suppose so. Oh, but Valerian! There are so many varieties, and...” she trailed away and they were both laughing helplessly.

  “You are as bad as me at making decisions, sweetling,” he said ruefully. “With the two of us together, this place will become a warehouse!”

  Pauline grinned. “Unless we learn to choose.”

  “Well,” Valerian smiled slowly. “I always choose impeccably.”

  Pauline blushed. “Oh, do you now?”

  “Yes,” he whispered into her hair. “Like whether I should start kissing your lips, first, or your hair...” he murmured, planting little kisses in the appropriate spot as he spoke. “Or your eyes, or cheek, or your shoulder...” he murmured, moving down to nibble her neck and work his way to the tip of her collarbone. Pauline shivered in delight.

  “Valerian Harrington,” she said, starting to laugh where his lips tickled her gently, “you are the most incorrigible, dearest, most irresistible...” she gave up and, laughing, they collapsed together in a contented morass on the chaise-lounge. She leaned against him and together they looked out over the gardens.

  “It is like a dream out there,” Pauline commented.

  “It is,” Valerian nodded. It was autumn now, but the lawn was still green and the sun still shone, the leaves auburn against a bright sky. “I still can't thank the Prince enough for signing that edict.”

  “I think he was glad to,” Pauline murmured. “And I cannot be more grateful that he did.”

  Valerian nodded. They sat together, her against his chest, listening to the sound of his heart.

  “I'm glad we could grant the dower house to Romilly,” Valerian murmured. “It was a great idea.”