Ladies and Their Secrets: Regency Romance Collection

by Alec, Joyce

  “Capital to have you!” Kinsley murmured, his eyes on someone over her shoulder. “Do excuse me, Miss Richardson. I see that our first performer is here already, and I must go to greet them.”

  “Of course,” Charlotte murmured, stepping aside.

  Lady Perrin, caught by another lady’s conversation, moved away, leaving Charlotte alone. She meandered through the other guests for a time, making sure to give Lady Emma a wide berth and stopping a few times to greet some other acquaintances. Her fingers twined together, her heart thundering in her chest as she continued to search out the marquess. Still, despite her careful regard of the room, she did not see him.

  In fact, she did not see him for almost the entire evening. The musical performances began, and she sat quietly with the other guests, commenting and applauding as she ought. The performances were wonderful of course, but Charlotte found that she simply could not enjoy them, not when she was busy wondering where the marquess might be.

  As the final performance came to an end, Charlotte smiled and rose to her feet, along with the other guests.

  “And now, a special performance is to take place outside!” Lord Kinsley called, clapping his hands together and beaming with delight as his guests began to buzz with curiosity. “Just on the front lawn, ladies and gentlemen. The maids and footmen are on hand to fetch you shawls and the like.”

  Charlotte, wondering what this event might be, followed the other guests outside, and with her shawl now wrapped tightly around her shoulders, stood on the grass and watched as a man with a flaming torch in his hand began a magnificent and breath-taking display. Fire burst in all directions, although the performer never appeared injured. It was quite astonishing.

  As the guests clapped hard, the air filled with whoops and cheers, out of the corner of her eye, Charlotte saw something move. Turning her head, she saw the Marquess of Withington standing a little aside from the rest of the guests, his arms folded as he leaned heavily against a tree trunk.

  “Lord Withington!” Charlotte exclaimed, hurrying towards him. “I have been looking for you all evening.”

  He barely looked at her. “Is that so?” he murmured, seemingly disinterested. “Is that for any specific reason?”

  “I had wanted to talk to you,” Charlotte replied, a little confused by his coolness. “I believe we left things on rather a bad note.”

  The Marquess’ eyes flickered. “Yes, we did, rather,” he said quietly, still not looking into her face. “I am sorry for overreacting, Miss Richardson. I assure you it will not happen again.” He gave her a stiff bow, which only furthered her confusion and sparked a little annoyance within her. It was as though this was the end of the matter, and whilst his apology seemed sincere enough, he did not display any kind of warmth towards her.

  Thinking it best to be utterly forthright, Charlotte lifted her chin, moved to stand directly in front of him, and looked into his face with a firm gaze. “Is something wrong, Lord Withington?”

  He glanced at her, his face still a mask. “Wrong? No, not in the least.”

  She frowned, growing a little angry with him now. “You missed the earlier performers. Did you not wish to see them?”

  “No, I did not.” He looked at her again, something like confusion flickering across his face. “Then again, I have seen a great deal of performances and the like this last week, although I have not seen you at any social events.”

  Was this the reason he appeared so distant? Charlotte thought, the entire situation becoming clear in her mind. He thinks I have deliberately avoided him after what he did.

  “Yes, indeed, I have been forced to stay indoors,” she replied, with a heavy sigh. “My aunt insisted upon it for both myself and my stepsister.”

  “For what reason?” he asked, looking more than a little interested. “Were you both unwell?”

  Biting her lip, Charlotte tried to think of how to explain herself. “My stepsister was not unwell, whereas I am afraid that I was a little under the weather.”

  “But your aunt kept your stepsister in also?”

  Charlotte tried to smile, shrugging a little. “Lady Perrin is very good to me. She did not want me to be lonely—although I am very glad to be back within society now. It was good of Lord Kinsley to invite us to his house party.” She paused for a moment, wondering whether to be honest with the man and thinking that it would be best. “I am glad to see you again, Lord Withington,” she continued, a little more softly. “I must tell you that our last exchange has been on my mind for some time. I do not know why you treated me so, and I must hope that you do not think I would have used our short walk as any kind of attempt to engage your affections.”

  Charlotte was glad for the darkness of the evening to hide her burning cheeks. She had spoken more freely with him than she had ever done before, but she was determined to clear up the matter entirely.

  Much to her surprise, the marquess passed a hand over his eyes, looking more confused than contrite. “I confess that I have had an experience in the past which may have colored my picture of you,” he muttered, the words being almost dragged from his lips. “I should not have been so abrupt, Miss Richardson. I do beg your pardon. Truly.”

  Thinking that this was, at least, sincerer than before, Charlotte managed a small smile. “Then, we are quite at ease with one another again, my lord. I very much appreciate your apology, and should you ever wish it, I would be glad to listen to whatever burden it is you carry.” A raindrop fell on her cheek as she finished speaking, and without even thinking, she brushed it away with the back of her hand. At the same time, the fire performer finished his act with the biggest explosion of all, which quite lit up the grounds.

  “I had best return to Lady Perrin,” she said softly, turning back to smile at the marquess. “I look forward to furthering our acquaintance, my lord.”

  He swallowed hard, his eyes straying towards her cheek. “And I,” he replied, a little hoarsely. “Thank you, Miss Richardson.”

  Charlotte felt her mouth go dry, as she looked into his eyes and saw something in his expression that she did not quite understand. After a moment’s hesitation, she drew in a sharp breath and turned away, hurrying back towards Lady Perrin. The marquess was still something of a mystery, but at least they had managed to have a civil conversation, even if she could still feel his eyes on her as she retreated. A small smile crept over Charlotte’s face as she fell into step with Lady Perrin, her cheeks still warm.

  “Is everything all right, Charlotte?” Lady Perrin asked a little sharply. “I did not see you out here.”

  “I am quite well,” Charlotte replied with a quick smile. “Did you enjoy the display?”

  As Lady Perrin began to talk animatedly about the fire performer, Charlotte’s thoughts remained entirely fixed on the marquess, wondering when she would be able to spend time in his company again. She did not hope it would be too long.

  10

  “And what of Miss Richardson?”

  Phillip bit back a sigh as Kinsley gave him a roguish wink. “What of her?” he asked, with a lift of his eyebrow.

  “You have been spending a great deal of time in her company,” Kinsley replied, sitting down opposite him. “Are you glad now that she chose to attend my house party?”

  “I am,” Phillip admitted, mentally looking back over the last three days. “It has, at least, cleared up a little confusion.”

  “Oh?”

  Lifting one shoulder, Phillip held back a long, pronounced sigh. “I have been confused regarding her character, Kinsley. I will confess to that.”

  Kinsley looked most confused, one eyebrow arching. “Her character? By all accounts, she is both sweet and kind, with a spotless reputation.”

  All accounts but her stepsister’s, Phillip thought, frowning heavily. And would she not know her best?

  “And she seems quite delighted with being invited here,” Kinsley continued, when Phillip said nothing. “She is a gentle and considerate young lady. You could do worse.�
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  “I am not interested in matrimony at this present moment!” Phillip exclaimed, suddenly frustrated. “Do drop the matter, will you not?”

  His words echoed around the room, bouncing off the walls as embarrassment raced up his spine. Kinsley did not look particularly upset however, sighing heavily and shaking his head.

  “She is not Miss Thackery.”

  “That remains to be seen,” Phillip retorted, pushing himself up from the chair and making his way towards the door. “I am going to take a turn about the gardens before the rest of the guests come down to break their fast. Excuse me, Kinsley.”

  * * *

  The morning air was cool and clear, bringing a calmness to his bubbling anger and exasperation. Kinsley continued to talk about matrimony as though it was something Phillip should be thinking of; but still, Phillip pushed the idea aside. He was still unsure about Miss Richardson’s true character, despite Kinsley’s inference that she was nothing more than a sweet-natured girl.

  However, Phillip had to admit to himself that something about Lady Emma made him consider her words entirely false. Miss Richardson had not tried to garner anyone’s attentions during her time at the house party whereas Lady Emma had done exactly that. She had cooed and smiled and batted her eyelids in his direction, often placing a cool hand on his arm as she leaned in to talk to him.

  He was not warming to the lady in the least.

  In addition, her mention of being kept away from society due to Miss Richardson’s poor behavior was not something he could easily believe any longer. That night of the fire performer, he had caught sight of marks on her skin—marks that appeared to be long scratches, which he thought might have come from someone’s hands.

  A rush of anger raced through him at the thought of someone hurting Miss Richardson. He had been forced to consider that perhaps the reason both Miss Richardson and Lady Emma had been away from society was due to Miss Richardson’s appearance.

  Not that he had been able to ask her anything about the scratches, of course, for that would have been rude.

  “My lord!”

  Dragged from his thoughts by the sound of a soft voice, Phillip looked up to see Miss Richardson walking towards him. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks dusted with pink, and her auburn hair practically glowed in the early morning sunshine. His breath caught in his chest as she smiled at him, almost overcome by the picture of gentle beauty she presented.

  “Good morning, Miss Richardson,” he murmured, inclining his head. “I did not expect to see you outdoors this morning.”

  “Oh, I always take a walk before the other guests rise,” she replied, laughing. “I cannot sleep as long as they, and I find that a short stroll truly brings one to life.”

  “I could not agree more,” he murmured, his eyes still fixed on her face.

  “The maid is very good at bringing me a small breakfast tray before I come outside so I am not faint from hunger by the time the other guests have risen,” she continued, still smiling. “These beautiful mornings are much too wonderful to miss, in my humble opinion.”

  She turned a little away from him, her gaze now on the picturesque country scene behind them. Nothing but wide-open spaces surrounded the estate, although much of it was fields and the like, which were due to be harvested soon. However, Phillip had to admit that it held its own beauty.

  “Might you like to walk with me for a moment?” he found himself saying, suddenly desperate for her company. “Or were you just returning to the house?”

  Her hazel eyes glittered as she looked back at him. “Will you suddenly rush me back inside, worried that I will stain your reputation?” she asked bluntly, the smile fading from her lips.

  Shaking his head, Phillip dropped her gaze for a moment and cleared his throat. “No, indeed,” he said softly. “I swear I shall do no such thing.”

  “And shall you tell me why you treated me so?” Miss Richardson asked, tilting her head just a little. “I will admit that it has not left my mind since the very night it occurred.”

  Phillip swallowed hard before nodding. “I suppose I owe you that,” he agreed, holding out his arm to her and feeling the racing tingles shoot up his arm as she took it. “What is it you would like to know?”

  They began to walk slowly along the garden path, surrounded by beautiful flowers and wonderful scents. Miss Richardson did not answer for a few moments, leaving nothing but birdsong in answer to his question.

  “Did something happen that made you believe I would cry foul?” she asked softly. “Did you honestly believe that I would do something so untoward?”

  “Yes, I did, but that is not because you displayed any kind of behavior in that regard,” he confessed, seeing the hurt jump into her expression. “I had a young lady some time ago who tried her best to ensnare me.” He heard her suck in a breath, a little relieved by her shock. “I have been wary ever since.”

  “And little wonder,” she replied, still sounding utterly horrified. “How truly awful for you, my lord.”

  He shrugged and gave a quiet laugh. “Kinsley has told me over and over that I should not consider the rest of society’s feminine kind to be anything like Miss Thackery, but until I saw you, I was unable to act on his advice.” He paused in his steps for a moment, suddenly aware of what he had said and feeling heat burst all through him.

  “Until you saw me?” she repeated, looking up at him with astonishment written across her face. “Truly?”

  “Is that so hard to believe?” he asked, growing aware of just how secluded they were. He glanced back at the house, and much to his surprise, he did not immediately worry about returning there in order to keep his reputation from harm. “After all, you are very beautiful, Miss Richardson.”

  She frowned, dropping her hand from his arm. “I appreciate the compliment, my lord,” she murmured, turning a little away from him. “And yet it appears that for some time you still considered that I would be like your Miss Thackery, that I would do all I could to entrap a gentleman into matrimony.”

  “No, no, not in the least!” he exclaimed, desperate to make her understand. “It is just that you are the stepdaughter of the Earl of Hardwick, and your stepsister is Lady Emma—”

  “And my status might make it a trifle more difficult for me to marry well,” Miss Richardson finished, her eyes suddenly ablaze. “However, that does not mean I would do such a thing, my lord. After the evening in question, you did not write to me, nor call upon me to sort out the matter, and you were decidedly cool towards me when I first came to speak to you here. What else am I to make of your behavior?”

  Seeing the hurt in her expression, Phillip let out a groan and closed his eyes. “I am making a mess of this, am I not?” he said, letting out a sigh of exasperation. “I did not mean to suggest that at all, Miss Richardson. It was just that, after the evening we were out walking alone, I met your stepsister, who suggested a few other things about your character.”

  “My stepsister?” Miss Richardson repeated, her face growing pale. “She spoke to you about me?”

  “Very unkindly,” he confessed, stepping forward and reaching for her hand, desperate not to put another wedge of animosity and anger between them. “I will admit that I considered her words to be true for a time, but that was only because I did not know you particularly well. Now I see that she was not speaking the truth.”

  Miss Richardson swallowed and lifted her chin. “We are not close, my lord,” she said, her eyes sparkling with bright, shimmering tears. “Lady Emma believes she ought to marry first, which in her opinion, means I must not encroach on her friendships and acquaintances.”

  Phillip, feeling more than a little guilt-ridden over his poor consideration of Miss Richardson, dropped his head. “I am sorry for thinking ill of you,” he said quietly. “I meant every word I said, Miss Richardson, about how my intentions to remain entirely unattached went out of my head the moment I set eyes on you.” He slowly raised his eyes to hers and saw, much to his relief, that
her tears were gone. “I am struggling with the burdens of the past. If you are willing to forgive me, yet again, then I would like to continue our acquaintance, fraught as our first few interactions have been.” Pressing her hand, he drew a little closer, filled with a desire to press his lips against hers, even though his mind was screaming at him not to do such a thing.

  She lifted her chin and looked into his eyes with a steadiness that had his heart quickening with hope. “Very well, Lord Withington,” she said softly. “I will allow you the opportunity to prove that you do not think ill of me.”

  “What I think and feel is quite the opposite, I assure you,” he breathed, suddenly desperate to show her the depth of his feelings.

  “Good,” she replied firmly, stepping away from him. “I look forward to furthering our acquaintance, Lord Withington. I had best return inside now before Lady Perrin rises.” She gave a quick bob, her skirts flurrying around her, before turning around and walking quickly back inside.

  11

  It took all of Charlotte’s inner strength not to find her stepsister and tear her hair out right in front of Lady Perrin. When Lord Withington stated, with confusion and worry in his eyes, that Lady Emma had spoken to him about her, Charlotte had wanted to scream out loud in frustration.

  It was as though Lady Emma was trying to sabotage her at every turn, even though Charlotte had done nothing but try to be amiable with her. Her hands curling into fists, Charlotte paced the floor and tried to calm her fierce anger. Nothing good would come of losing her temper with her stepsister, for that was most likely what Lady Emma wanted. If Charlotte made a scene in front of either Lady Perrin or, worse, in front of the other guests, then Lady Emma would look like the one being attacked, despite it being the exact opposite.

  “Did I see you walking with Lord Withington?”

  Startled, Charlotte turned to see Lady Perrin, swiftly followed by Lady Emma, walking into her bedchamber, entirely unannounced.