ROMANCE: Romantic Comedy: Love in 30 Days - The Best Plans Don't Always Work! (Plus 19 FREE Books Book 13)

by Jane Keeler

  Lord Richard, she wrote back,

  Lady Mary and I will call upon you in the early afternoon. I have so much wish to renew my affections with you and your sister. I can barely wait to resume the cordiality that we enjoyed some year since!

  Lady Elizabeth Spencer

  The morning was a mass of anticipation, so heavy she could hardly bear it. She excitedly related everything to Mary in the carriage on the way to see Richard, but not before Mary revealed her own news: that Lord Heyer had visited her the day before, asked her father’s permission, and then entreated her hand in marriage. She had of course accepted, and so their engagement was at last official.

  The two women were almost giddy as the carriage pulled to a stop outside the Spencer mansion, and they had to calm themselves before they were able to step down and into the house.

  “Lady Elizabeth,” Richard said with considerable warmth, greeting them as soon as they were inside. “And Lady Mary, of course. Please, come join my sister and I for some tea.”

  “She is soon to be the Lady Heyer,” Elizabeth informed him gaily.

  “Well, then great congratulations are in order,” Richard smiled, leading them into an airy room where Lady Margaret sat already in front of the teapot.

  Elizabeth allowed them to talk together about Mary’s engagement, it being the new topic at hand, and sat a little back from the conversation. She observed Richard, how he was kind and graceful. He knew exactly what to say, and kept the talk flowing freely. She found that she wanted to dance with him again, very much.

  At length they decided to walk in the gardens, and Elizabeth found herself walking alongside Richard while Mary chattered to Margaret ahead of them.

  “I am much in your debt, Lady Elizabeth,” Richard said. “Margaret is cheered greatly to see your both, and my heart also sings to see this house full of laughter again.”

  “I only feel so foolish,” Elizabeth sighed. “All of this time, and my own love for him did not allow me to see the truth of my brother’s end. Somehow I had him raised up as an innocent, and you the blackest devil.”

  “It is natural only,” Richard replied, smiling wryly. “I myself confess that I thought my sister the purest angel, lead astray by a scheming ruffian. But I know she is keen for romance, and engagement, and all of the rest of it. I blame the novels she reads. Some of them are quite more than I am comfortable with.”

  “Are you, sir?” Elizabeth asked, before instantly regretting how forward the question was.

  “Am I…?” Richard repeated.

  “Keen for romance… forgive me, I spoke out of turn.”

  Richard paused, and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “I think I am keen for romance, Lady Elizabeth. Perhaps while we are out of earshot of the others, you will forgive my slip of manners if I say that I have always admired your beauty.”

  Elizabeth was breathless for a moment. “I could forgive that entirely,” she finally managed.

  “And if I went on to say that you have been, for these years, the dearest object of my admiration?” Richard added quietly. “That it has burned my heart the strongest that your gaze turned away from mine, out of all those who did so?”

  Elizabeth stopped walking for a pace, then gathered herself and carried on. “Lord Richard…” she began, heart hammering in her chest. She looked up and met his eyes, and saw that she had no need to finish what she was saying.

  “Lady Elizabeth, let me be clear,” Richard said ardently. “I am no scoundrel, ruffian, or cad. I am a man who makes his word and keeps it. Though I know that our families are at odds, it has been my wish for some time to pursue your hand in marriage. It was, I know, my dear late mother’s wish that our houses would join, and I fear that is why she encourage friendship between Lord Arthur and my sister. I make no proposal now, for I know I must seek and win the approval of your father. For that I may need some help, and also some time. Still, I am determined to do it.”

  “Lord Richard,” Elizabeth said breathlessly, clutching his hand. “I know now you are a good man. My father can be merciless, but he does not know how my brother acted in his final moments. If everything is made clear to him, perhaps then…”

  Margaret turned her head to check that the two of them were still following, and they let go of one another’s hands abruptly. Until they were truly engaged, of course, it was not proper. They walked in silence for a few minutes, listening to the idle chatter ahead of them and contemplating the confessions they had made.

  “I will say nothing more,” Richard told her. “I know our situation is a difficult one. I only hope that we can resolve it to the good of both our hearts. I hope you will write me when you feel your father may entertain my visit – or at least before then, just to converse.”

  Elizabeth returned home with a singing in her whole body, feeling light as air. As soon as she came through the door, however, she was met with a rather different scene to the one that she had left.

  Her father was home again, and this time his rage would not be stoppered. He pulled her into his study and railed at her there, holding forth at length on his disappointment and shock.

  He knew everything: the dance, the secret letters, the meeting. Everything but the truth that she had understood. He shouted until he was half-hoarse, even while Elizabeth’s mother pulled at his arm. He denounced everything: her indecorous behaviour at meeting with him in secret, her betrayal of the family name, her liaison with a man who would never be accepted into the house. Elizabeth merely sank to the floor in tears, trying to explain herself in-between great gasping breaths. He would not hear a word of it. The longer he shouted, the more she understood that Richard’s offer of marriage would never be heard. Lord Shelley banished her upstairs to her bedroom, and warned her that she would not be leaving the house or writing to anyone without supervision.

  “Oh, Papa,” she cried, sinking onto her bed in utter despair. “Oh, if only I could help you to understand!”

  Chapter 5

  It was two days later when Richard arrived at the door of the Shelley house, requesting an audience with Lord Shelley. Elizabeth had been kept under lock and key, and he had grown worried when he did not hear from her. A messenger had been turned away, and at last he had made up his mind to see for himself what was going on.

  She had tried to make herself heard, but none would listen. Her father was in such a rage that even her mother would not dare to hear her complaints. Whenever she tried to tell them the truth about Arthur, she was met only with wailing or denouncing, and not a word would be accepted. She was beginning to despair, particularly without the ability to so much as write to Richard.

  From her bedroom window, Elizabeth looked out over the courtyard in front of the house, her heart soaring to see Richard arrive on horseback. She was overjoyed to see him, thinking perhaps that this would be the time for everything to be resolved. Her heart rose to her mouth when she saw her father rush out to meet him, shouting and gesturing with his hands – and soon she despaired once more.

  “The audacity! – to come here!” she made out, but it was difficult to hear Richard’s reply. She wanted to open the window, but it was bolted shut. The only thing she could do was strain with all her might through the glass.

  Richard was gesturing with his hands out in front of him, palms open, and he had swept off his hat in a gesture of respect. Lord Shelley seemed to be done with his tirade, and was turning on his heel to go back inside the house.

  “Please, Lord Shelley!” Richard finally shouted, and Elizabeth watched with a hand over her mouth. “I came to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

  That was all she could take. Knowing she would be chastised, Elizabeth all the same ran for the door of her room, bounding down the stairs as fast as she could so that she could get down to them.

  Lord Shelley strode back inside the house as she approached the bottom of the stairs, and Richard followed him, the three of them joined by Lady Shelley wearing a look of shock.

&nbs
p; “I don’t know who you think you are!” Lord Shelley bellowed. “Coming to my daughter with nothing to offer her – a paltry living no doubt – and you the killer of her own brother!”

  “I can offer her much,” Richard insisted. His words were frantic, desperate. “My father has suffered a short illness, and passed away not two days ago. I stand before you as Duke Spencer. I can provide for her fully.”

  Lord Shelley turned on him again in a rage. “You shall provide nothing, sir, nothing! No daughter of mine shall ever be a Spencer!”

  “Father, please!” Elizabeth burst out, running forward from her position.

  “What is this?” Lord Shelley demanded, spitting out each word as if it were made of the purest poison. “You are smitten with him? You? You design to be his wife?”

  “Father, please, he is not what you think,” Elizabeth begged. “He is a good man!”

  “You will make your choice, Elizabeth,” her father shouted, cursing roundly. “Either your family and the memory of your brother, or this Duke Spencer!”

  Elizabeth hesitated for a moment; behind her, her mother choked out a sob of horror. They stood there a moment – Richard with his black jacket of mourning and his eyes revealed to her now as they really always had been; her father, bristling and shaking with rage, his face red and contorted; and Elizabeth, clad only in a simple day dress and with no more belongings to hand than a small bonnet she had snatched up on her way out of her bedroom.

  “Come with me now, Elizabeth,” Richard said, into the silence. “We shall be married before the week is out, and you my Duchess.”

  Elizabeth knew in her heart what she had to do. She turned all of a sudden and clutched her mother’s hands, planting a kiss on her cheek – a farewell. Then she gathered her skirts and ran past her father’s outstretched arm, taking Richard’s hand as they ran together to the waiting horse.

  Chapter 6

  They bounded across the countryside, the powerful strides of the horse eating away the distance between the estates and throwing wind into their faces. Elizabeth ducked her head and clutched tightly to Richard, seated in front of him and sideways on the saddle. His arms and the reins encircled her, and she knew he would keep her safe.

  There were dark clouds above them, and a peal of thunder in the darkness made them both jump. With hardly any warning a shower of rain came down, heavy enough to soak them both through almost right away.

  “We are on Spencer lands now,” Richard shouted above the noise of the storm, driving the horse towards an old barn standing at the side of a field. “Here – a place to shelter.”

  He carried her down from the horse and took her inside, going back to ensure that the stallion was properly tied up under the shelter of a small stall obviously meant for the purpose. Inside the barn was dry straw all around, stacked in high bales, and a ladder that led to a small area of floor overlooking it all.

  “Here,” Richard said, pointing up to it. “We’ll find a place to sit up there. I used to play here when I was a boy.”

  At the top of the ladder was a good-sized platform, wide enough for both of them to sit or walk around as they pleased. The barn was old, but in good shape. A few small wooden stools were scattered about the place, as well as old sackcloth strewn across the floor to keep it warmer. They were able to sit down there, and get some semblance of comfort, but Elizabeth was shivering in her wet dress.

  “My dear, I fear you will fall ill,” Richard murmured with concern. “I have no means of making a fire without setting the whole barn ablaze. This wet fabric will have you shivering to your deathbed, I swear it.”

  He took off his mourning jacket and set it around her shoulders – but that, too, was damp, and did nothing to ease the shivers running through her body where it touched her dress. Finally, he kneeled before her, rubbing her arms and trying to keep her skin as warm as possible.

  “I’m so cold, Lord Richard,” she shivered, miserably. “I can feel the water all over me. My dress is sodden.”

  Richard hesitated, then looked away for a moment. He was clearly debating something in his mind; when he looked back, it was with a cautious expression. “You accepted my proposal when you ran with me here, did you not?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir, I did,” she said. “It is my deepest wish that we shall be married, even without my Papa’s support.”

  “Then, if we were to…” Richard hesitated, took a breath, and started again. “What I mean is, it would not be beyond the bounds of propriety…”

  “What is it?” she asked, almost impatiently.

  “My heart, let me speak plainly. I fear you will catch pneumonia if you stay in that dress any longer. Perhaps you already have it,” Richard said earnestly, catching one of her hands to hold it. “Please understand, I am concerned with saving your life. I have only just won you, and I would not lose you so soon.”

  Elizabeth gasped, but she felt the truth in his words. Again, she felt that she trusted him completely. Even if it was deemed improper – others might, once they were contracted for marriage – surely she should not lose her life over stubbornness in this?

  She stood then, shaking with not just the cold, and he rose with her. She was already aware that the thin muslin, still running with water, now clung to her body in a way that itself was not proper. There were no fastenings on her dress; she had only to pull it over her head and it would be removed from her, leaving her bare and exposed.

  She had only a short corset and stockings to her knees other than her dress – no petticoats, and nothing else to cover her. Her chemise was so soaked through that it stuck with the fabric of the dress, making barely any difference between the two garments. She shook with nerves as he gently gathered the bottom of her dress, raising it up slowly, never taking his eyes from her face. Then she closed her eyes and lifted her arms up so that he could pull the fabric over her head, and it was done.

  For a moment she dared not open her eyes, but when she did, he was staring back just the same as before. His designs were proper, and he did not look down at her uncovered body.

  “What of the rest?” he asked, allowing one hand to rest momentarily on the back of her short corset.

  She touched them with her hands, shaking her head as she shivered. “Wet through,” she told him.

  “Then…” he suggested, and she nodded.

  She unlaced the corset while he bent to help her with the stockings, sliding each one down her leg at a time. When they were both done she stood naked, without a scrap to cover her modesty, and still shaking with cold.

  “We must get you dry, somehow,” he said, pulling off his linen shirt in a swift movement and beginning to rub the fabric along her arms. It worked; like a towel, the damp moisture was pulled from her. He worked on her legs next, and then hesitated greatly, stepping back from her for a moment.

  His bare chest was strong and broad, and he was breathing hard from both the exertion and the excitement. She, too, felt a warmth growing in her belly, spreading to warm her from within. It was as if something between her legs had been lit on fire – and she blushed to see a bulge in the front of his breeches which she had never seen before.

  “Elizabeth -” he said suddenly, and, pulling her towards him, trapped her body against his in a tight embrace. Their lips met in a passionate kiss, their first. She could have floated away. Everything – her nakedness, the storm, the cold – melted into nothing. The only thing was their kiss, his hot mouth against hers.

  When they broke off, she grasped him tightly, putting her arms around him so that he would not pull away. Outside, the wind was still howling, and the rain battered down on the roof. They would not be able to leave the barn for some time.

  “Oh, Elizabeth,” he said again, going in for another kiss. This time it was not just his mouth, but the heat of his hands, roaming the skin of her back and turning everything they touched into molten gold. The shivers that ran through her now were not for the cold. He kissed her delicate neck, her white shoulders, her
dainty and small hands. At length he kneeled before her and kissed her stomach, her thighs, and at last – at last! – her breasts.

  They lay down next to one another on the sackcloth, neither minding the touch of the rough fabric on their skin. His fingers were bold now, running over her every inch, smoothing back the loose strands of hair that the rain had shaken out and exploring the forbidden expanse of her skin. She felt almost paralysed by the fire running through her every nerve and vein, burning her alive. His touch, his touch was all. But there was more.

  He unbuttoned his breeches, and swiftly pulled both those and his cotton drawers out of the way. She did not make any sound, but simply stared at the sight of him – forgetting the propriety which he had afforded her. She was astonished at the size, shape, and every other aspect of his member – an appendage she could only imagine until this moment, and for which nothing had prepared her.

  He paused a moment, taking her surprise for reluctance. He even began to pull away.

  “Richard,” she said, then, to let him know that she did not want him to go.

  “Elizabeth,” he answered, and then he was upon her again, his tongue seeking out the warmth of her mouth as his hands caressed her. They rested on her breasts, feeling the heft and shape of them, stroking the smooth skin in ways that made her breath catch in her throat. Then he moved his hand lower and sought out the most forbidden part of her, and for a moment she really did forget how to breathe.

  His hand came away wet with moisture, and he looked into her eyes one more time to make sure. He saw no resistance, and so rolled himself above her, parting her legs with a knee so that he could find his entrance.

  He pushed in slowly, but the sensation was such a shock that she moved her legs together by instinct. He soothed her with gentle kisses and quiet words. She had never felt a sensation like this – never dreamed of it. He moved seemingly further inside than was possible, until she felt stretched and full, and then paused for a moment.