Love Regency Style

by Samantha Holt

  “Somerset and I have worked out the particulars of the marriage contract,” their father said.

  “Contract?” Grace exploded.

  “I am speaking of something more delicate,” the marchioness cut in. “Grace needs to better understand the man who petitions for her hand. I gather this offer is quite unexpected. Is that right, my dear?” Lady Rushton looked at her.

  “It is,” she replied, “but I will not marry him in any case.”

  “A lady does not refuse a gentleman without having heard his offer of marriage. You must keep in mind that your father has your best interests at heart, and therefore give Lord Somerset an opportunity to present himself.”

  Grace hesitated, then acquiesced with a stiff nod.

  Lady Rushton patted her hand. “Now then, perhaps you should take a little time for yourself. We shall have tea in a bit. The pink parlor. That is a favorite of yours, is it not?”

  “It is a lovely room, ma’am.”

  “Fine, then. We shall all adjourn there later with some of our guests. We cannot forget this is Erroll and Eve’s wedding party.”

  Eve’s father bowed. “You are most kind, Lady Rushton.”

  “Think nothing of it. I was young once and haven’t forgotten the surprise of an unexpected marriage contract.”

  “Grace,” their father said, “perhaps you will allow Lord Somerset to escort you back to your chambers. I will come along.”

  Grace rose and, ever the gentleman, Lord Somerset offered his arm, but Eve wondered how much he wanted to escort her anywhere—or whether he still wanted to marry her, given her outburst.

  They left, but the marchioness remained seated. She blew out a breath. “Your sister is none too happy.”

  “No.” Eve couldn’t repress a sigh. “She said she knew what she was getting into, but I fear she did not. It is my fault for concocting the ridiculous kidnapping plan.”

  “Lord Somerset seems like a decent man.”

  “I believe he is.”

  “And he obviously cares for her.”

  “So you see that as well,” Eve said.

  “It is difficult to miss. Your sister might be more fortunate than she realizes. It is rare that a lady can marry a man who has genuine affection for her.”

  “So true,” Eve said, and thought her heart would break. “I must admit, I gave no thought to her fate.”

  “It has been a hectic few days for you. How are the notes coming along?”

  “I am nearly finished,” Eve kept her voice level and forced back the memory of the solicitor’s letter and Laura Greenwood’s very personal note. “Everyone is so kind. I am truly touched.”

  “A great many of those who sent their regards live far away, and many cannot afford the trip. They are some of the most interesting people on the island.”

  “I hope to meet them one day.”

  “I am sure you will. You and Rush must visit often.”

  Eve mentally blanched. Did Lady Rushton expect them to leave soon? Had Lord Rushton said something to her? Eve smiled. “Yes, ma’am. I would like that.”

  The marchioness laughed. “I certainly hope so. I fear you will become so busy in London that you will forget about us here.”

  “I never loved London. I would much rather live here.”

  “That is not possible. Rush spends most of his time in Town.”

  “Yes,” Eve agreed. “He loves Society.”

  “I don’t know that I would say he loves Society. It is true, a man in his position cannot help but be involved. However, he will have many other concerns to keep him occupied now.”

  Like Laura Greenwood. “The marquess’ business must keep him very busy,” Eve said.

  “It does. My husband employees many people, and Erroll was groomed to follow in his footsteps.”

  “Oxford, if I recall,” Eve said.

  “Yes. Top of his class.”

  Eve wasn’t surprised. “I suppose it isn’t surprising that he prefers to manage his father’s affairs in England. He did comment that the island was dull.”

  The marchioness tilted her head in thought. “I never noticed that Rush thought Mull to be tedious. Val was to manage affairs here, but I believe the marquess had hoped Rush would oversee his additional holdings in Scotland.”

  “Your husband owns property on the mainland?”

  “Yes. In fact, those properties are far more lucrative than his English properties.”

  Eve’s heart twisted. “Then perhaps his lordship simply prefers life in England.” Or life amongst the ton.

  Chapter Twenty

  Lord Rushton hadn’t joined them in the pink parlor when they’d taken tea. Eve had to admit, she’d been relieved, and when propriety allowed, she excused herself for a walk in the arboretum to think things over. But what was there to think over? Lord Rushton hadn’t changed, hadn’t promised he would change, and Laura Greenwood was proof he wouldn’t. Even here on Mull, during their wedding party, he had sought the privacy of the balcony with another woman.

  Yet, despite all odds, despite knowing his nature, Eve had fallen in love with him. Worse, in the last two days she had harbored the foolish hope that he might change. That had been her mistake, not his. The fact he bedded her as if he was making love to her simply testified to his ability as a lover. Eve left the cover of an elm tree and stepped into the afternoon sun. She entered too quickly the shade of the next cluster of trees and regretted leaving the warmth of the sunlight.

  Grace had said she would allow Lord Rushton to live his life as he pleased, but Eve simply couldn’t sit back and watch him go from one woman’s bed to another’s, fitting her in when he had a moment or when he wanted an heir. That would break her heart. He’d insisted they marry. He now had to deal with her—on her terms.

  Eve strolled in silence along the grassy terrain, then slowed at seeing her father leaning against a tree up ahead, staring in the direction of the castle. Apparently, after tea, he’d had the same desire for privacy.

  She approached and he turned. “Good evening, Papa,” she said as she neared.

  “How is your walk, Eve?” he asked.

  She smiled. “Very good.”

  “Will you walk back with me?” He winged his arm.

  Eve slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. “I would be delighted.” She looked up at him. “We have had no time together and…” A lump formed in her throat.

  He patted her hand as he started forward. “You were always a good girl, Eve.”

  “Even when I ran off with Lord Blane?”

  “Even when you ran off with Lord Blane.”

  “And now?”

  He gave her a soft smile. “You put me out, I admit.” He returned his gaze to the path and Eve’s heart tugged at the tired look in his eyes.

  “Oh, papa, I am sorry.” She stopped and nearly fell into his arms.

  He stroked her hair and let her cry softly. “Come now,” he finally said. “I doubt this is about an apology to me. What is amiss? I don’t believe for an instant Rushton has mistreated you.”

  She drew back. “You think he is a paragon of husbandly duty?”

  “Hardly. He is a man—a newly married man—and those chaps make many mistakes. You must see it for whatever it truly is, whatever the case may be. Do you want to tell me?”

  “It is nothing in particular,” she lied. Certainly nothing she hadn’t expected and feared.

  He nodded and they began walking again.

  They were silent for a long moment and Eve knew he was thinking of his other daughter who, despite being a good girl too, was spoilt to the bone. “Grace will come around,” she said. Though during tea, Grace sat like a stone, barely acknowledging his or Lord Somerset’s existence.

  “She has no choice,” he replied. “I regret that she isn’t more sensible, like you.”

  Eve snorted. “I have not been very sensible lately.”

  “True, but is in your nature to be reasonable, and you did accept the inevitable.”


  Yes, she did. “Grace will, too. Just give her time.”

  “I fear time will not change her,” he said. “She’s willful, even more so than your mother.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Eve said. “She is simply young.”

  He looked at her. “You were not like that at her age.”

  “No,” Eve agreed, “but I recall my grandfather saying you had your wild moments when you were young.”

  “All young men have wild moments. But you and I, even your mother, we’re of a tamer breed than Grace.”

  Eve laughed. “She had to have gotten it from somewhere.”

  “From somewhere,” he repeated in a cold voice that caused her to look sharply at him, but he seemed not to notice and stared straight ahead.

  *****

  Eve stopped short in the doorway of Lord Rushton’s bedchamber. The letter from his attorney lay open on the desk where he sat absorbed in work—the note from his mistress on top. Her heart pounded.

  “Hello, Eve,” he said without turning from his writing.

  “We missed you at tea,” she said stupidly.

  “Forgive me, my dear. I had some business to attend.” He continued writing.

  Did the business he referred to include a reply to his mistress to tell her he couldn’t wait to see her? Eve felt her nerve slip. “I am interrupting,” she said. “I will return later.”

  “No need. What did you want to see me about?” He returned the pen to the blotter, then blew on the paper for an instant and folded it, before picking up another document and scanning its contents.

  “Your mother is planning a trip to Tobermory tomorrow after lunch. She suggested a bit of shopping. I…” She’d started the lie and had to finish it. “I wanted to be certain you did not mind.”

  “Of course not.” He flashed a heart-stopping smile. “The shopkeepers know me. They will extend credit for anything you like.”

  “I don’t plan to make many purchases,” she said. “I am going more for the pleasure of the trip.”

  “Do not hesitate to purchase anything you like.”

  “Thank you. I might make a few purchases for the trip to the mainland your mother is planning next week. Oh, my lord, I didn’t tell you, Lord Somerset offered for her hand.”

  He paused in reading and lifted his gaze to meet hers. “I thought he might.”

  “You knew?”

  “I noticed in Belfast that he seemed to care for her,” the earl said. “I believe she cares for him as well.”

  “You think she cares for him?” Eve hadn’t considered that possibility.

  “I have some experience in dealing with women who are interested in a man.”

  Did that mean he had realized her interest in him, perhaps even before she had? But she suddenly knew the answer. “You knew I wouldn’t marry him,” she murmured.

  “Lord Somerset?” He shrugged. “You refused his offer of marriage long before I came along. You made no secret that you didn’t want to marry him.”

  “So when you told me that you would step aside if I preferred him you knew I wouldn’t do it.”

  “You did give me scare when you told me you would rather marry him.”

  “A scare?” she repeated, then said, “Ahh, you feared you would be stuck with Grace.”

  “That was a concern.”

  And there it was. His fervor to secure her hand was what it had been all along: a way to avoid the worse of the evils.

  “What’s this about a trip to the mainland?” he asked. “Next week, did you say?”

  “Yes,” Eve said absently. “Your mother hopes it will give Grace time to reflect on Lord Somerset’s offer before they return to England.”

  “Has her sights set on someone higher up the chain, does she?”

  Eve nodded. “In truth, she will make him a terrible wife. He has no real love for Society. He wants a real wife.”

  “A real wife?” He repeated the words slowly. “Unlike what your husband wants, you mean?”

  “I am not Grace, as you know,” she said.

  “Thank God for small mercies.”

  “You may have erred, my lord.”

  He turned in his swivel chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Indeed, how?”

  “You would have done better with Grace.”

  His gaze remained steady on her face for a long moment. “She would gladly return to England with me, whereas you are making plans that will keep you here through next week. Have you plans beyond that, next month perhaps, or maybe even next year?”

  “You are making plans to resume your business in England.” She nodded toward the lawyer’s letter—and the note from his mistress. “You are returning to life as usual.”

  He didn’t bother to glance at the papers, but said, “I never lied to you, Eve. You knew my life was in England.”

  Eve nodded, but feared if she uttered even a whimper she would burst into tears.

  They stared at one another in silence for a long moment before he turned his chair back to the desk and picked up the document he’d been reading. “When you go shopping tomorrow, buy what you need to furnish the suite here to your taste.”

  Her heart began to pound. “I see.”

  “I have been away too long and you made it clear that London was not to your liking. You have the trip to Scotland with my mother and you said you wanted to meet Jean’s daughter—and lest we forget, all the other MacLean relatives who have yet to welcome you into the fold.” He looked up and added, “It seems you’ve found your home, Eve,” then returned his attention to his work.

  *****

  Erroll tightened the cinch on his horse’s saddle, then pulled the stirrup from the saddle and lowered it to the beast’s side. He grasped the reins and led the horse toward the stable door. His father appeared in the doorway. So his mother had informed the marquess Erroll was leaving. He should have simply left her a note. But he knew he was lying to himself. He wouldn’t have been able to bring himself to so cold a parting.

  “You are determined to leave?” his father said when Erroll reached him.

  “You knew I would return to England.” Erroll continued out the door and the marquess fell in step on the moonlit path. Though, if he were honest, he hadn’t planned on leaving tonight—or tomorrow, for that matter.

  “I assumed you would take your wife with you.”

  “She prefers to stay here.” Without me.

  “The harvest isn’t for some time yet. Why go so soon—or so suddenly?”

  So soon? After his conversation with Eve an hour ago, he had wanted to jump into the saddle and ride until he couldn’t think. He should have done just that.

  “Riding at night is not wise,” the marquess said.

  “I know every rock on the road to Tobermory,” Erroll answered. “What is there to keep me here?”

  “Your wife.”

  “I believe a wife is obligated to follow her husband.”

  “Can I expect a grandchild next January?” his father demanded.

  Erroll gave a mirthless laugh. “You have a great deal of faith in my abilities, sir.”

  “I have faith in your inability to stay out of your wife’s bed.”

  His father had a point, and it was going to be hell not having her in his bed. “I consummated the marriage.” Several times over. “As to a grandchild, that is in Fate’s hands.”

  “Fate is for fools.”

  Erroll released a sigh. “I understand duty. You taught me well.”

  “Do you plan to live the rest of your life for duty alone?”

  “What else is there?” A wife, love…children?

  “Children,” his father said, as if reading his mind.

  “You certainly had your share.” Four children with Erroll’s mother alone. “Lust is a powerful motivation.” Little had he realized just how powerful a motivation.

  “Lust?” His father grunted in disgust. “A fleeting passion.”

  Erroll raised his brows. “You seem to have
maintained that passion with my mother.”

  His father scowled. “I am not so old. Why should you be surprised?”

  Why was he surprised? “Most husbands grow tired of their wives after so many years of marriage.”

  “Most men have good reason.”

  Erroll looked sharply at his father. “But you do not?”

  “Did you think I don’t know your mother is a remarkable woman?”

  Something niggled in the back of Erroll’s brain. “But that doesn’t change the fact that she is not Moira MacLean.”

  His father halted and for the first time in his life Erroll saw him nonplussed. “By God, no, she is not, and why should she be?”

  “Perhaps it is merely the fact she is English, then?” Erroll asked.

  “English?” his father repeated in a cold voice. “I did my best to see to it you understood things from both sides of the border. God knows, after The Forty-Five Rebellion, Scotland and England were as far apart as Cain and Abel. I had hoped your generation would be the one to bridge the chasm. Where did I go wrong? When did you decide the English way was better than Scottish life?”

  Erroll stared. “You misunderstand me, sir. I do not think England any better than Scotland. In fact—” he broke off.

  His father’s gaze turned shrewd. “In fact what?”

  An epiphany hit Erroll and he felt like Saul on the road to Damascus. “You wish to bridge the chasm between the Scots and English?”

  “The Scots, yes, but even more so, the Highlanders.”

  “In Manchester you chastised me for not marrying a Scottish woman. You said I cinched the English noose more tightly around our necks.”

  “Yes,” his father replied. “I might want to bridge the gap, but that doesn’t mean we deny who we are.”

  “You never told me any of this,” Erroll said.

  “What is there to tell? You had to see the world yourself, decide for yourself. Surely, it was obvious.”

  “Was your marriage to my mother your way of trying to bridge that gap?”

  “King George commanded the marriage. You know that.”

  “And you know your duty,” Erroll murmured. He thought of the way Eve made him feel, the way he wanted her so badly it hurt, and recalled the look in his father’s eyes three nights ago at the party. Erroll imagined that same look in his eyes when he looked at Eve. He loved her.