Love Regency Style

by Samantha Holt

  Sir Edward eyed him. He wasn’t about to quarrel with his friend, but he felt his rising temper heat his blood. He calmed himself and managed to say sardonically, “As you have done, Jules?”

  “Aye, that’s it.” Jules answered brightly and looked encouraged. “That’s why I want us to ride over to the Grange this morning.”

  “You seem more than a little animated about a ride to some grange?” Sir Edward stared hard at his friend’s face.

  “Am I? Animated you say?” Jules returned vaguely.

  “It would appear the brandy has clouded my understanding,” Edward returned as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “What has riding to this place to do with anything you have said to me this morning?”

  “Nearly afternoon,” Jules returned. “I’ll explain on the way there. I have had a bath drawn for you down the hall. Wash up and perhaps I will even feed you before we leave.”

  Sir Edward groaned and held his head.

  Jules grinned, “Write out some instructions for your people and I will have someone take them over to Brighton and collect your things.”

  On this note, Jules left his friend to do the tasks he had been assigned. Edward stared at the closed door. Had he somehow fallen deeper into hell?

  Chapter Four

  HE WAS A Dapple Gray that stood sixteen hands and his black mane and tail were thick and luxurious. Star adored him.

  At that moment his head and his tail were held high with stallion pride. He snorted and pranced. Star laughed out loud as she watched him in the stud paddock. His name was Berkley’s Choice. He had won seven out of eight starts at Ascot and they had great hopes for him.

  He danced toward her and she cooed to him. She fed him the last carrot she had brought with her and he nuzzled her for more. She lost her balance on the post fence and nearly fell off the rail she had been perched upon. “Oh Choice, fie!” she laughed an objection.

  He nuzzled her some more and she wagged a finger before petting his fine face. “Now stop that, sir.”

  He was their prize stallion and had already brought in quite a stud fee for his services that season. It was enough to cover the expenses of keeping their prime bloods at Berkley Grange.

  A sound in the distance caught his attention and his ears went forward alertly as he scanned the long drive. She turned to have a look.

  “Now, just what do you see?” What she saw at that moment was discouraging. Ill kept lawns, trees and evergreens in need of shaping and pruning, weeds in the flower beds and their long drive to the house was badly rutted. How could she help but sigh and remember another time when Berkley looked so different, so very fine.

  The stallion nodded his head and his nostrils flared. Star reached up to stroke his nose again, but he wouldn’t look at her as he stared down the long drive. She shook her head and asked, “What is it, young man? What has you so bothered?” She sighed, “The season is over for you, as we don’t have any other mares listed to be bred.” It was then, that she heard the clip-clop of horseshoes hitting stones and her own attention returned to the driveway. “Faith! Who can that be?”

  Star saw the outline of two male riders coming toward her and frowned as she tried to read their features. All at once she realized…one was Jules and the other was his friend, the man who had stopped her last evening when she had been in disguise.

  Oh no! Dash it all. What now? Would he recognize her? No, no, how could he? She had to calm herself. She simply had to.

  She stayed right where she was and put on a welcoming smile. She would just have to brave it through.

  *

  “Wait till you clap eyes on her, Edward,” Jules said with some liveliness. “Her hair is the color of…” He appeared to be searching for an adequate adjective and sighed to call it, “spun gold, but lighter in color…thick in texture.”

  Sir Edward’s only interest was the fact that he had a button in his pocket with the Berkley crest, the same at the entrance of the Grange. He had a vague memory of a young lad as well. All the rest Jules went on and on about had begun to bore him and he said, “I think you have told me that once or twice already, Jules.”

  “Did I? Well, gold is not the right word. It is nearly white…no…it is the color of corn-silk. That is the color! Corn-silk with a hint of gold threaded throughout.”

  “Corn-silk?” Edward said dubiously as he arched a brow and chuckled. “How you can worship one woman, be heartbroken and then go on and on about another?”

  “Yes, yes, but one must move one and wait till you see how beautiful she is.” He frowned, “She does, however, wear her hair short. Actually, it is shorter than what I like, but I have imagined what it would look like draped down to her waist.”

  “Ah, already trying to change this beauty, eh?” Edward shook his head momentarily diverted.

  “Well, as to that, she does wear her hair shorter than I like. Just to her neck and swept back, most odd…but there is never saying what a woman will get into her head to do,” Jules answered thoughtfully. “You know Edward, I fancy that I was meant to care for many women before I meet the right one. Is Star Berkley the right one? I shall have to wait and see.”

  Edward laughed, “You are an incurable romantic and make me quite sick.”

  Jules nearly stood in his stirrups with sudden excitement, “Edward! Do but look…she is there…right there…a goddess in blue.” He waved to her and called, “Miss Berkley—ho there!”

  Edward regarded his friend with astonishment. He was acting like a lad not yet weaned, for mercy’s sake. As their horses brought them closer, he surveyed the ‘goddess’ in question and his eyebrows arched with surprise.

  She certainly did not fit the picture his friend had painted for him in his mind. He had imagined a dainty flower, but here was a rough and tumble girl sitting on a fence. He frowned and considered her because what struck him almost at once was that he had never before seen any other woman quite like Star Berkley.

  *

  “Oh no—oh no. Why is Jules’ friend staring at me like that? Does he suspect? No, how could he? He never saw my face,” Star mumbled in dismay to her stallion who immediately snorted a retort.

  She looked herself over and chewed her bottom lip unhappily for she was clothed in an old weathered blue gown that had seen much better days and fit her a tad too tightly. In addition to that, she was quite certain she smelled like the stables for she had been helping Jeffries muck out a few stalls. Dash it, dash it, dash it!

  She liked Jules Stamford and she was feminine enough to care about her appearance, even though she wasn’t sure just how much she did like him.

  His open admiration and light flirtation had her confused. She found she enjoyed dallying with him and yet, though it was flattering, she wasn’t sure how she felt and did not wish to lead him on.

  His wit and light conversation always set her at ease and she enjoyed his visits, but she wished she was wearing something a bit nicer. In addition to that, she was embarrassed and worried all in one thought. She had to bluster it all off. And please, she prayed, don’t let his friend look too closely at me! Don’t let him realize I am the lad he accosted last evening. With any good luck he probably was too bosky to remember.

  She ran her hand through her flaxen locks, pulled out hay and brushed out dust, sure that some grime must be liberally plastered on her countenance. This was most unfortunate. She took the hem of her gown, and swiped it over her face in hopes of presenting a cleaner appearance. They were getting closer. Nothing for it, but to brave it out, for the moment had come.

  Jules Stamford was waving vigorously and she could not pretend she hadn’t seen them. Sit on your fence and smile, Star, she told herself.

  “Hallo,” Jules waved and called again as he approached and then as he was nearly by her side at the fence, “Good God! Look at Choice. Isn’t he looking fit?”

  “Indeed,” she agreed glancing at her stallion and then back at Jules. Her eyes strayed to his companion who she could see was look
ing at her from the top of her head to her booted toes. She felt her cheeks get hot and told herself it was not because he recognized her but probably because he was a libertine that subjected all the ladies to such scrutiny. Her temper flared and she took a moment to beat it down as she said, “He is fit because Vern has been very diligent about riding him.” She released a short laugh as she remembered the last ride she had on him. “Vern must ride him, you see, for I won’t. He is too much horse for me.”

  “Who do you think you are trying to bamboozle?” Jules returned on a snort. “You forget the first time I saw you, you were taking Choice over that line fence.” He pointed at the pasture rail in the distance.

  She laughed. “No, Mr. Stamford. Choice took me over the line fence, for I had no say in the matter. I lived through that ride and when I dismounted and touched ground, I thanked the heavens I was in one piece.”

  She allowed her gaze to casually take in the well-dressed man astride one of Jules’ hunters. He sat his horse quietly to one side and for some inexplicable reason she trembled when she thought of his touch last evening. Faith! He was staring at her. How rude. She gave him an arched brow and instead of being deterred, he grinned like a wayward boy.

  She turned away from him a bit too quickly and very nearly lost her balance on the rail. She became flushed as she attempted to right herself, all the while Jules kept up a steady stream of banter.

  He was explaining to his friend that she had a wonderful sense of humor and recounting yet another anecdote that had taken place in town when he remembered his manners and said, “Ah, but though I am sorry for it, good manners insist that I introduce this fellow to you. My very good friend, Sir Edward, allow me to introduce you to Miss Star Berkley.” He laughed and added, “Pay him no mind though, Miss Berkley.” He smiled broadly in his easy style. Star liked Jules Stamford but found she wasn’t sure she liked his friend, Sir Edward.

  Sir Edward merely did the perfunctory. She could see he was not impressed with her. Well, why should he be? Her hair was a mess. Her clothes were worse. She must look like a hoyden. Why did she care if he was impressed with her? She didn’t, but he needn’t be so obvious about it.

  Her quick first observation of Sir Edward decided her that he was what her brother would call a Corinthian, pink of the ton, a top sawyer. Well, well, what did she care for that? No doubt he thought a great deal of himself.

  He tipped the beaver top hat borrowed from Jules, and expressed in a tone of ennui, “Enchanted, Miss Berkley.”

  Sensitive to his obvious dismissal, she took immediate affront, however, her sense of humor kicked in and she answered, “Oh…I can see that.”

  She saw his eyes as they snapped with interest and smiled to herself as she returned her attention to Jules, “Do you come to visit poor Vern? I am afraid I left him sleeping soundly. He has had such a bad night that I really do not want to disturb him.” She bit her lower lip. Should she have said that? Yes, indeed, why not?

  “A bad night?” Jules offered with a frown. “I am sorry to hear that.”

  Sir Edward stuck in at this point, “Miss Berkley…do you also have a younger brother?”

  “No. Why?” She felt her body tremble.

  Edward’s eyes narrowed as he answered, “Ah, I bumped into someone who had your look.”

  “Ah, perhaps a cousin,” she suggested. Anyone who knew her well knew she and Vern had no cousins in the vicinity.

  “I am sorry to hear that Vern is still unwell,” Jules stuck in. “I was hoping by now he would have recovered.”

  Relieved to get off the subject of cousins she said almost too brightly, “He gave himself a setback by going out before he was well enough. Stubborn man, for I warned him how it would be.”

  “Indeed,” agreed Jules with a nod. “In the short space of time since I have known him, I have encountered his stubborn streak.” He grinned amiably to soften the words.

  “Right,” she returned and went on. “I sent poor old Jeffries out for the doctor yesterday in hopes of making him stay put.”

  “What did he say? What is wrong with your brother?” This time the question came from Sir Edward making her look sharply his way.

  “Oh, as to that, Dr. Hayes said he suffers from the quinsy and should be up and about by the end of the week.” She could see Sir Edward considering her thoughtfully and felt a moment’s uneasiness. He couldn’t have recognized her. Even if, as he said, she looked familiar, he had seemed to accept that she looked like her cousin. Hadn’t he accepted that? Her hand fluttered, “Look at me going on in this fashion. I am sorry. Would you like to accompany me to the house and take tea with me? I was just about to go up.”

  Jules exclaimed unabashedly, “Indeed, famous good notion. Tea… we love tea, don’t we Edward?”

  Edward eyed him dubiously and answered ruefully, “Do we?”

  “Yes, yes, of course we do,” Jules claimed, his face bright with joy.

  Star laughed, “I had not realized a simple offer of tea could bring such delight.” Her smiled encompassed both men as she brushed her hands together and said, “Right then, you might as well leave your horses here…with our groom, Jeffries and then come up to the house. I will just go ahead and see Cook about refreshments.”

  Star felt their eyes on her as she gracefully as she could, jumped off the fence rail and started off. She sensed them watching her and turned slightly to wave and found this was true—they were both watching her and each wore a very different expression from one another. Again wishing she was groomed and in a finer gown, she hurried off.

  *

  Sir Edward eased himself out of his saddle as his head was still threatening to spin. He turned to Jules who had already dismounted and regarded him for a long moment before he said, “So this is the lady fair who has won over your heart?” He sounded even to himself incredulous.

  The lady in question, he thought looked no more than a child, though Jules had told him she was twenty. Besides that, her manners were freely unaffected, something quite out of the ordinary for ladies of fashion. Indeed, she could not be called a lady of fashion, even country fashion. She was nothing like the women Jules had been interested in over the years.

  She was admittedly, quite a beauty. In fact, she was a most unusual beauty to be sure. She dressed like a servant and her hair was short, though its style became her piquant face. In fact, if he admitted the truth, he found he rather liked the way her flaxen locks were swept back away from her countenance. He liked too the way her hair fell across her forehead. Yes, yes, but she still was no more than a country miss. Her gown was old and showed signs of wear and although its tight fit displayed her provocative body to advantage, he was fairly certain she had been helping her groom in the stables for she was covered with stray strands of hay and floor dust.

  No doubt the Berkley family had fallen on difficult times and for no reason at all, this troubled him. She didn’t appear to be interested in Jules’ status or wealth. In fact, she didn’t appear interested at all.

  She had been sitting on a post and rail fence, of all things. Gently bred young women did not work in their stables and did not sit on fence rails. So then, why did he find her so intriguing? He didn’t. He was only surprised that Jules did.

  He looked around himself as they walked toward the stable entrance and Jules rattled on about the chit at great length.

  He could see that everything was in a sad state of disrepair and frowned over it. No doubt, brother and sister were attempting to maintain their home by working it themselves and he found that he admired her for that. She held herself proudly, unashamed of circumstances beyond her control. He did not want to be touched by this, but somehow he found that he was. Ah bah! Maudlin thoughts would only serve to draw him in where he did not wish to go.

  However, the chit was remarkable. She had a lively sense of humor, which he had detected earlier when she had thrown out a sarcastic remark. She had noted that he appeared bored and in her delicate way had called him out on i
t. He liked that. Also to her credit were her dark eyes. They were exceptionally large, almond shaped and thickly lashed. Dancing white lights were alive with laughter in their dark depths and when she smiled. He found that in spite of his resolve to hold all women at arm’s length, something about this resilient young woman drew on him. What the hell was he doing?

  He still could not stop the flitting thought that she had a quiet grace about herself. Not a long Peg and yet quite tall enough. Her figure was in spite of the fact that she was too thin, quite sensual.

  She was not, however, in Jules’ style. She was an impish spirited sort and that sort always got a man in too deep and in too much trouble.

  Jules usually liked a more reserved woman. Besides all that, why was he even thinking about her? It was Jules that wanted her and Jules was a grown man. It was not for him to worry about whether she was in his friend’s style or not.

  A groom came forward and Jules said, “Thank you, Jeffries. Will you see to it they are both watered?” He then turned and heartily slapped his friend on the shoulder and said, “Very well, why do you look so dour? Tell me and have done.”

  “If you must know, I am concerned. She, you must admit is nothing like the sort of woman you are usually attracted to, Jules.”

  “Yes, perhaps that may be true.” He winked at his friend, “That is just it. My ‘usual’ has not won me anything permanent, has it? Want permanent, so thought I would see if Miss Berkley and I would suit. I think we might.”

  Edward arched a brow but said nothing to this.

  They crossed the cobbled courtyard and took the wide stone steps to the front door of the Georgian styled home. An elderly retainer opened it wide and stepped aside for them to enter. They dropped their top hats and gloves onto the round center table in the central hall and followed Bankes, the butler, and ‘Cooks’ husband, as he led them down a wide corridor. Its walls were lined with what Edward assumed were family portraits. The butler whom Jules called Bankes, opened a set of double doors and once again, stepped aside to allow them to enter, before he quietly withdrew.