Secrets of Scarlett Hall Box Set: A Clean & Sweet Regency Historical Romance Collection

by Jennifer Monroe

  “That tells me nothing,” her mother said.

  “He is forty years of age and is poor by any standard. Yet, he has led the group for years, and I have become his favorite. He sees the world differently from others.” She sighed. “I will not lie; I do not love him, and I told him I needed time to consider his proposal.”

  Her mother gave her a stern glare. “This man? He compliments you?” Hannah nodded. “I imagine he also comments on your beauty, your mind, and your strength.”

  “He does,” Hannah said in surprise. “How did you know?”

  “I also suppose he has promised you everything you ever wanted, even to allow you to write while he sees to supporting the home.”

  “Yes. You see, my novel is not complete, but with his help, it has improved. He promised that he will do anything to see me happy, even if it means me spending my time writing.”

  “I have no doubt that he promised you these things,” her mother said as she took Hannah’s hand. “You are strikingly beautiful and possess a great mind. However, it is easy for a man with nothing to promise everything. You are innocent, my child. He wishes to have a beautiful woman at his side, but I fear he does not, and cannot, love you. You deserve a man who can provide for you, not one who does not have your best interests at heart.”

  Hannah might not have loved Albert, but what her mother said angered her even more. “You do not know him,” she said. “He is an honorable man who only wishes to help me!”

  “Not all men who give aid are honorable,” her mother said, her voice rising. “I may not know this man, but I have known those like him. You will keep away from him.” The last words were said with a finger pointed at Hannah.

  “What shall I do then?” Hannah demanded. “Is it not my life and my choice? If I do as you wish and I go to London, chances are I will find a man who will never allow me to pursue my dreams.”

  “And if you remain here?” her mother asked. “Will you marry this man? This Albert?”

  “Perhaps,” Hannah replied, although the truth was, she did not wish to marry Albert. “He is a simple sheep farmer, and although I do not care for him, he does care for me. If he provides a way to allow me to write, then I may consider his offer of marriage.”

  Her mother pursed her lips and returned to the desk chair. “Here is what will happen,” she said in that matter-of-fact tone that brooked no argument. “We will speak of this matter and of this man no longer. You will leave for London in three days. When you arrive, you will be in Isabel’s care and will do as she says. You will soon catch the eye of a gentleman who is more appropriate for you. Then you may begin to think of the life ahead of you.”

  “My life is here,” Hannah said as she approached the desk. “Scarlett Hall is my home. If I cannot be allowed to marry Albert, then I will become a spinster and remain here.”

  “You will do as I request,” her mother said. “This house is not the end of your story. And it certainly is not in the arms of a sheep farmer who has wooed you with false promises.”

  Hannah crossed her arms over her chest. “I will not,” she said firmly. “I shall leave tonight and tell Albert that I accept his proposal.” As the words left her lips, she knew they were not true. She needed more time, but the fact she was leaving soon did not allow her such luxuries.

  “If you leave tonight,” her mother said, “or the next, or if you refuse to attend the season, I shall reveal to all the secret of your society. All will know it was you who revealed and broke their trust.”

  Tears streamed down Hannah’s cheeks. How could her mother do this to her? “You would ruin my name in order to get your way?” she asked as she tried in vain to wipe away the wetness from her face. How she hated her mother at this moment. “All these years you favored Juliet and Isabel while I was left alone with my books. Now that I have found happiness, you wish to take it away from me?”

  Her mother sighed. “I wish to save you.”

  “Save me from whom?” Hannah demanded.

  “From yourself.” Her mother stood once again. “Perhaps you will meet a gentleman who will allow you to pursue your dream. However, you must understand that I do this because I love you and wish only for you to be happy.”

  Her mother opened the study door, and Hannah stepped through. Although she loved her mother with all her heart, she was angry and saddened by her words. Therefore, without thought, she spun around and glared at the woman. “You care nothing for me,” she said through clenched teeth. “When I find happiness, you wish to take it away. I wish Father was alive and that you had taken his place!”

  Her mother’s eyes went wide, and Hannah thought her heart would break. She wanted to apologize but found the words caught in her throat.

  “I have always wanted the best for you,” her mother said, her voice breaking. “Sometimes, in love, we must hurt those around us in order to do what is best for them. That is the cost of love.” Without another word, her mother closed the door and left Hannah standing in the darkness of the hallway.

  Hannah returned to her room. She felt disgusted by the horrible words she had said to her mother. Her anger was not only with her mother, however. Albert had placed a kiss on her lips without her permission, and that was how this anger began. How could she have taken it out on her mother in such a horrible manner?

  The truth of the matter was she had two choices. Either she could defy her mother and run away with Albert. They would marry, and she would become the wife of a sheep farmer, but at least she would be able to write.

  Her other choice was to accompany Isabel to London for the season. There she would be forced to attend boring parties and endure the boorish manners of men who would see her as a choice cut of beef rather than as the woman she was.

  Lying in bed, her eyes grew heavy. She had no idea what choice to make, but whichever it was, she had only three days to make it.

  Chapter Two

  There were two things expected of a marquess. The first was to secure a healthy bride who would produce an heir. The second was to act and remain a gentleman at all times in order to maintain a powerful standing and gain the respect of those in society.

  Unfortunately, at the age of one and twenty, John Stanford had failed in both. It was not that he did not try to find a bride, for, in fact, he had attended the season for the last three years in order to do just that. However, with the numerous women who smiled his way, it was difficult to choose just one.

  As to the second expectation—to be a gentleman—he was, in fact, such a man, contrary to what those in Cornwall said. If a gentleman happened to be taking his leisure in a pub and a fight ensued, whether it be over issues with gambling or some other disagreement, said gentleman had every right to defend himself.

  His greatest challenge, however, was that more problems than normal came his way, unexpected ones like the one that now forced him to take a carriage to the home of his cousin, Laurence Redbrook, Duke of Ludlow.

  Laurence, who in all reality was a second cousin to John, had married just a few months earlier, and John did not understand why the ceremony had been so small, or why it had been rushed. In truth, he was hurt he had not been invited, for he and his cousin shared a special bond. Not only had they attended the same schools, Laurence had gone to Cornwall in order to offer condolences when John’s father died.

  Regardless, it was not the affront over the lack of invitation to the wedding that placed John on this journey. No, it was something far worse. Trouble unlike any he could have imagined had come his way, and, unwilling to deal with the consequences of his actions, he ran.

  The carriage hit a rut, and John sighed as he grabbed the inside walls. Hiring a carriage at the last moment had been a mistake. The driver was inept, and John wondered if the man had as many years’ experience as he touted. His control of the vehicle certainly did not demonstrate it. Yet, there had been no alternative, for his departure from his home had been swift.

  His plan was simple and, he thought, wise. He would a
rrive at the home of his cousin and find a way to join him and his new wife for the season. Laurence had never attended before, but John had received a letter one month prior that included the man’s plans, which had surprised John that Laurence was leaving behind the life of a recluse for the gaiety of parties and balls in London. Yet, the manner in which the Duke spoke of his wife intrigued John. He was curious to see what kind of woman could make as dramatic a change in the man as she had.

  Drawing back the dark blue curtain, John glanced out at his surroundings. It had been a few years since he had visited Camellia Estates, and he was genuinely looking forward to a visit. As the carriage made a left, a bit faster than John expected, his face slammed into the window, and he grabbed his nose to see if he was bleeding. Lucky for the driver, he was not.

  He took a deep breath to relax himself. It was imperative he not draw his cousin’s suspicions—or that of anyone else, for that matter. He had to maintain a cool demeanor, an air of unconcernedness, for if word reached Cornwall he was here, all would be lost.

  The carriage stopped in front of Camellia Estate, much to John’s relief, and he closed his eyes for a moment in order to collect himself. By the time the door opened, he was much calmer.

  “We’re here, my Lord,” the driver said with a bow.

  “So we are,” John said in a clipped tone. “At least we arrived alive,” he added in a mumble.

  “What was that, my Lord?”

  John sighed. “Never mind.” He might need the man longer if things did not go well with Laurence, and there was the chance the man would return to Cornwall and reveal where he had taken John despite the fact John had paid him a hefty fee for keeping such information to himself. “Wait here. I shall return shortly.”

  The man bowed again. “Yes, my Lord.”

  Camellia Estates had not changed much since the last time John had visited. It still had its neat row of hedges that ran alongside the house and out to the stables to his left. However, no other extravagance was spent on the front gardens. If he remembered correctly, the former Duke and Duchess had focused more on the larger back gardens, which had always left John dumbfounded.

  As he made his way to the front door, John rehearsed once more what he would say when he spoke to Laurence, but the door opened before he reached the bottom step. Laurence peered out as if not recognizing John, and then a woman joined him.

  So, that must be his wife, John thought. The woman was beautiful with her blond hair in ringlets around her face and bright eyes filled with concern.

  “There is no need to hurry to greet me,” John called out with a laugh when they stopped at the top of the steps.

  “John?” Laurence asked. “Is that you? What on Earth are you doing here?” Then the man laughed. “I’m sorry, it is good to see you. I was not expecting you.”

  “I’m pleased to see you, as well. I apologize for coming unannounced. I hope you do not mind.”

  Laurence came down the steps to greet John; his limp did not appear as bad as John remembered. “Let’s have a look at you.” He placed his hands on John’s shoulders. “You have not changed much. A bit older, but we could say that about us all, could we not?” He turned to the woman. “I would like to introduce my wife, Isabel.”

  The woman came to stand beside Laurence and offered a kind smile and a bend to her head. She had a regal stance but lacked the haughty air of so many of the ton. He immediately felt relaxed in her company.

  “Isabel, this is my cousin, John Stanford from Cornwall. I believe I have mentioned him.”

  “Second cousin,” John corrected with a laugh. “But close enough to almost be considered firsts. My pleasure.” He kissed the top of her hand, and she smiled again.

  “The pleasure is all mine.”

  “Trust me, it is an honor to meet the woman about whom my cousin boasts in his letters.”

  Isabel blushed. “It is good to finally meet you, as well,” she said. “It is true; Laurence has spoken of you often.”

  John glanced down to see a letter clutched in her other hand before she pulled it behind her back. That piqued his curiosity. He made no inquiry, nor would he, but it would be interesting to learn what secrets this lady held.

  An awkward silence fell around them. Would Laurence not ask him in? They had not parted ways on bad terms, not that John remembered.

  “Isabel,” Laurence said, “you should be on your way.”

  “But your cousin. I cannot be rude…”

  Laurence gave her an even look and she fell silent. “If you are not back by five, I will meet you at the house. Otherwise, please give my regards to your mother and sisters.” He made a gesture to a man John had not noticed standing beside one of the hedges. “Your driver is welcome to rest either with the stable hands or he may go in through the kitchen. I am certain Mrs. Brantley can get him a coffee or some tea if he so desires.”

  “He is not my driver,” John said. “That is, yes, I hired him, but my own driver took ill and I was forced to hire him for my journey.”

  “Where is it you are heading?” Laurence asked. “And what brings you this way?”

  “London,” John replied, his heart racing. The next few minutes would be crucial, and he needed to keep his story straight. “I have no friends who are able to attend this year, as most are otherwise already engaged or married.” He let out a deep sigh. “I thought seeing you before I left on my own might lift my spirits. You know how I hate to be alone.”

  “You will be staying at your London house alone?” Laurence asked in clear surprise.

  John nodded. “It will be fine. If I am lucky, I may receive an invitation or two for dinner.”

  Laurence clapped John on the back. “Well, no cousin of mine will be left alone, especially during the season. I have more than enough room for ten cousins—and their servants.”

  Laurence pulled John toward the door, but John stopped him. “I cannot intrude on you and your wife’s first season together.” He sighed again. Sighing always helped make a point. “No, I shall wait alone and pray that a friend might turn up. I will be no nuisance to anyone.”

  “Nonsense,” Laurence argued. “Your friend is already here. Let us have your belongings brought inside. We have much on which to catch up, and I have many questions to ask.”

  “And I shall answer every one of them,” John replied. Inside, however, he worried. What would he ask? Perhaps he would not be as forthcoming with some questions as he would others.

  John paid the driver to bring in his belongings. “Well, I am glad to have that journey end. That driver was a bit callous in his driving.”

  “Many have little or no experience,” Laurence said as they headed inside. “So, tell me, how is life in Cornwall?”

  They entered the foyer, and John turned to face his cousin. “It is the same as it always is, I suppose. Between working and caring for Mother, I find little time for myself. And you? Forgive my curiosity, but is everything in order? Isabel seemed…distressed.”

  Laurence sighed and shook his head. “Isabel is well. It is her sisters who have caused us worry.”

  “Perhaps sharing over a glass of brandy is in order?” John said with a wide grin.

  Laurence laughed. “You and your brandy,” he said, although he headed to the study without pause. “At least I now have an excuse to have a few more drinks than I usually do.”

  ***

  John spent the next hour answering his cousin’s questions about life in Cornwall. Although he did not inform him of everything—leaving out certain parts John did not wish to share—he told enough to satisfy the questions the man asked, or so he assumed by the smile Lawrence wore.

  They were on their second brandy, and Laurence, being a light drinker, loosened his tongue and was sharing life as one married to a member of the Lambert family.

  “So, let me see if I understand this correctly,” John said. “There are two more sisters?” When Laurence nodded, John added, “And a cousin who is more a sister than a cous
in?”

  “Yes. In the manner in which I see you as a brother? That is how they see Annabel.”

  The kind words sent a spear of guilt through John’s heart for the lies he had told his cousin. Well, not lies outright but more omissions. Regardless, he could not help the feeling of remorse.

  “Juliet is the youngest of the three sisters and is prone to mischief. When Isabel told me this morning that it was Hannah who had left the house in the middle of the night, we were both shocked.”

  “She does not typically do such things?”

  “Certainly not,” Laurence replied. “Or rather, we would never have suspected such behavior from her. She is intelligent, well read, and far from one who would engage in that type of mischief.”

  John suppressed a smile. He had known many societal women who had done things such as drinking or sneaking from their homes at night. However, this Hannah, who by all accounts Laurence had described as a bluestocking without using the term, intrigued him much. Where would a bluestocking go at night?

  “With the season nearing,” John said after taking a sip of his brandy, “she will soon be married. Then her wild ways will be left behind. It will be good for her. In London, she will be far too busy to find trouble. This is her first season, I presume?”

  Laurence glanced around as if someone would overhear before leaning toward John and lowering his voice. “Do not tell a soul, but last year right before the season was to begin, Hannah came down with a mysterious illness. The doctor could find nothing wrong but recommended bed rest. It was only recently that I learned she had fabricated the whole thing so she would not have to attend.”

  John laughed. “She feigned illness to escape the season? This woman is quite the mischief-maker!” When he took notice of the frown Laurence wore, he added, “My apologies. I meant no disrespect to the woman.”

  Laurence sighed. “Yes, I realize this. It is just that Isabel worries for her sisters as a mother would her children, and I find myself worrying for all of them. Hannah is a wonderful woman, and the plan is to see her find a husband. However, I fear her stubbornness and intelligence will make it much more difficult than it should. It is not her wish to find a husband from what I understand.” He stopped and tilted his head at John. “Why have you not married, or become engaged at the very least?”