Love Regency Style

by Samantha Holt

  “Every time I fell in love, the girl in question betrayed me,” he said gloomily.

  “I never thought I would feel sorry for you,” she mused. Then after a bit of thought, she asked, “But why did they betray you and that too so many women. And how many women were there?”

  “The number doesn’t matter. What matters is the fact that the ones I only liked but did not love stayed true to me. But if I fell in love, the women ended up in bed with someone else. It was a bit of a mystery and I asked Lor … I mean, Madame Bellafraunde about it.”

  “When did you ask her?”

  “The day I caught you in your corset and bloomers. She met me after your lesson to explain things. One thing led to another, and soon I was confessing my dilemma and she seemed like the right person to talk to. After all, she is the mistress who trains the ladies of the ton in matters of love and deceit.”

  “Oh, I remember now. It was the day I shot the ceiling.”

  “You did what? You shot the ceiling? I want to ….” He paused and took a deep breath. After a moment, he continued more calmly, “Never mind about that now. Where was I? Oh yes, Madame. She said that the reason the women were forced to betray me was because I took too long in asking them to marry me. They had to come up with a plan to trap me. They were not getting any younger, and I am a brilliant catch. She also said that I was in lust not love every single time. She tried an experiment with me where she told me to imagine being married to one of the women that I thought I had loved.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “I broke out in a cold sweat, my ears turned hot, my neck became itchy, and my entire form started trembling in dread. It happens every time I think of shackling myself to a woman for the rest of my life. Madame said that when I do fall in love, the thought of losing the girl I love should break me out in a cold sweat, and not the thought of spending the rest of my life with her. Which is why I decided to look at marriage as a business alliance rather than a love match. It makes things easier. And I need an heir.”

  “Your grace, when you were younger, did you fall in love every time you sneezed?”

  “It was more like a seasonal flu.”

  “This is all very heartbreaking, but why are you telling me all this?”

  “This is the first reason why I wanted you out of the house. Now you can appreciate why I am a little wary of women, especially the ones that try and seduce me. And you did try to warm my bed that first night. I was convinced that you would do something devious to trap me into marriage. You were desperate and Emily, Elizabeth, Lilly, and the whole lot of them had been just as desperate to marry. I was frightened.”

  “I did not try and trap you.”

  “Your actions say otherwise.”

  “I don’t want to argue over that again. What is the other reason?”

  “My mother and sister always heed my advice. No one has ever denied me anything. True, Anne gets her way sometimes, but her desires are material. She has never before gone against my wishes when it comes to associating with the wrong sort. Since your arrival, the two of them have turned against me. Anne has started arguing with me and Mother doesn’t listen to anything I have to say anymore. You are the reason for the change. Everything was going well until you stormed into our lives.”

  “So your monstrous ego was squished and you decided to murder me?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t know the Desmond house was in such a bad state. I only knew that it was stinking.”

  “Don’t you dare deny it. You did try and murder me!”

  “I did not.”

  “You did.”

  “Think logically. Why would I save you if my intent was to murder you? I did pull aside that beam and free you.”

  “When you get beef from the butcher, you don’t feel bad for the cow that has been killed. But if someone asked you to wield a knife and kill the cow yourself, you wouldn’t be able to do it.”

  “Are you saying that you are a cow?”

  “Exactly.”

  “What?”

  “You found me alive and couldn’t bring yourself to kill me. It would have been alright if the storm had finished me off. I am like that cow and the storm is the butcher. Do you see now?”

  “Yes, I see. You absolutely insist that you are a cow. I am not arguing.”

  “I didn’t mean … Oh, what does it matter? Go away,” she snapped, picking up the dresses and shoving them in the travelling case.

  “You are simply using me as an excuse, Penelope. The truth is that you don’t have the courage to face the season, for you know as well as I do that no one will marry you. You are afraid of disappointing a lot of people. That is why you have decided to run away.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Then stay and prove it,” he said, walking towards the door.

  “You wanted me to leave.”

  “Now I want you to stay.”

  “Is that because you have changed your opinion of me? Do you still think that I am a doxie?”

  After a short silence, the duke spoke really fast, “isupposeso.”

  “What?”

  “I said, I suppose so.”

  “You suppose so? What sort of an answer is that? Do you or do you not?”

  “I think so.”

  “Oh, that’s a lot better. You suppose or think that I am no longer a doxie. That makes it all very clear.”

  “So, will you stay?” he asked again, his hand now on the door knob.

  “Leave,” she muttered, pulling out her slippers from the wardrobe.

  He opened the door and walked out.

  A moment later his head popped back in.

  “Penelope?” he said.

  “Now what?” she asked, getting ready to aim a slipper at the door.

  “I am sorry,” he said softly and then closed the door.

  “Damn the rotten man,” she whispered, starting to unpack her bag. “Why did he have to go and apologise?”

  ***

  Exhausted after the morning’s adventure and the fight with the duke, Penelope had fallen asleep. She woke just in time to change for dinner.

  Her stomach growled when she walked into the dining room. She had eaten nothing all day.

  At Sir Henry’s signal she dipped her spoon into the creamy tomato soup and took a bite. It was delicious.

  “Where are you going tonight?” Sir Henry asked.

  “We are staying in. Penelope was caught in the storm, Grandfather, and I think she is too tired to go anywhere,” Anne replied.

  Penelope froze at the mention of the storm. The soup suddenly tasted sickly sweet in her mouth, and she placed the spoon back in the bowl. Her hands were trembling.

  The rational part of her brain told her that she was going into shock. She shook herself trying to focus on the candlelit table laden with wine glasses, meats, fruits and cheeses. She firmly reminded herself that she was surrounded by people and that she was safe. She forced herself to focus on Sir Henry’s words.

  “She is looking a little peculiar. I thought it was a lover’s quarrel because Charles has also been ogling his soup instead of eating it.”

  The duke looked up, his eyes silencing Sir Henry’s line of enquiry.

  Sir Henry glanced at the two white faces and frowned.

  “Well, Annie, any exciting balls coming up?” Sir Henry said, prudently changing the subject.

  “Lady Plasket has invited us to dine tomorrow night.”

  “Miss Fairweather, Lady Plasket looks like an elongated mongoose. Her head is ridiculously small as compared to her never-ending torso. Be careful of her, my dear. She has been gossiping since she shot out screaming into this world. I knew her a long time ago. I doubt she has changed.”

  Sir Henry failed in his attempt to make Penelope smile.

  She nodded soberly, her eyes vacant. Perkins placed a glass in front of her, and she absently picked it up and took a sip. Her eyes shot to the duke as the taste of cherry brandy hit her tongue.


  He avoided her eyes.

  She carefully placed the glass on the table and stood up. In a voice that shook slightly, she excused herself.

  No one stopped her.

  ***

  Penelope rushed to her room and found Mary putting out her nightdress. Lady Bathsheba was sitting on the carpet.

  “Mary?”

  “The duke instructed, Miss. Lady Bathsheba is to stay with you at all times.”

  Penelope hugged her pet, and for the first time that day the tears fell. She buried her face in Lady Bathsheba’s white coat and stayed like that until Mary left the room.

  Once alone, her tears fell in earnest. She set her mother’s portrait up on the desk, but not one word escaped her lips. She cried silently, her mind once again trapped in the dilapidated house with the storm roaring over her head.

  It was sometime before she calmed down. Blowing her nose she climbed into bed dragging Lady Bathsheba along. The goat nuzzled her cheek trying to comfort her.

  After eating the entire tin of biscuits that Walrus had given her, she rested her head on the pillow. But she couldn’t sleep a wink. Her head felt heavy and her body ached. Restless, she stuck her hand under the pillow trying to get comfortable and found a piece of paper. She pulled out the sheet and holding it closer to the dying candle read the words:

  Thank you for staying

  She stared at the dark blue fluid line, her heart racing. Her fingertip traced the words and her eyes squeezed shut. She crumpled the paper and threw it on the floor. Before she slept, her feelings were no longer of fear but of anger.

  Chapter 26

  “To lure a man, a woman should go out into the woods on a full moon night stark naked and dance around a roaring fire. If a lion with a swishy tail comes to investigate, then that woman has succeeded in luring the man … The danger is that you may become the lion’s supper. Still, these are desperate times … Miss Fairweather, I have been spewing nonsense for the past ten minutes and you have barely blinked … Miss Fairweather?” Madame sighed. Her student was daydreaming again. She tried again, “The duke has buttocks as glorious as a red bottomed baboon. Ah, that got your attention.”

  “I am sorry, what did you say, Madame?” Penelope asked shaking her head. Surely she had heard wrong … about baboons and buttocks.

  “What is worrying you, my dear?”

  Penelope squirmed.

  “Miss Fairweather, you can hardly confide in Anne and the dowager if it is about the duke. I am good at keeping secrets.”

  “How did you know it concerned the duke?”

  “I have been trying to get your attention for some time, and the moment I mentioned the duke and his glorious bottom, you snapped to attention. Are you in love with him?”

  “In love? The man tried to kill me!”

  Madame rolled her eyes, “Did he now?”

  Penelope bristled at Madame’s tone. Annoyed, she told Madame all that had occurred since her arrival at the Blackthorne Mansion. Anger forced her tongue to say a little more than she would have liked.

  Madame heard her out in silence, her face turning grave.

  “Penelope, I think I can call you by your name after all that you have told me? Now, if the duke truly wanted to kill you, then why did he save you from that man in the alley? Why did he lift the beam away when you were trapped? Why did he tell you his secret and beg you to stay?”

  “I am not sure …”

  “You never really believed that he meant to harm you, did you? What is worrying you is the fact that in anger you accused him unjustly. You are frightened—”

  “Frightened? Yes, I suppose I am. I still get nightmares of being trapped ….”

  “Oh, I don’t mean that. You are frightened of the intensity … the intensity that the duke brings with him every time he encounters you.”

  “I am frightened because of … peanuts.”

  “Peanuts?” Madame asked faintly.

  “Yes, peanuts. Beth, one of my stepsisters, is allergic to peanuts. Whenever she eats a peanut her face flushes, her tongue feels swollen, her heart starts racing, and she feels queer. I feel the same when the duke is around, so you see the only conclusion is that I am allergic to the duke. I know he does not truly want to kill me but he might do just that by simply being around me.”

  Madame started laughing until tears streamed down her eyes. “This is why I think girls should be educated in the matters of love. You really should know what happens before and after … especially after,” Madame sobered and continued, “Penelope, you are not allergic to the duke, and I think you know that as well as I do. You are an intelligent girl and yet you are trying to grasp at silly excuses to explain away your feelings.”

  Madame let her words sink in. She then changed the topic, “You are coming along fairly well in your lessons, but even after the season is over, I want you to remember that I will be here for you.”

  “Madame, what should I do about him? “

  “The word ‘duke’ freezes on your tongue,” Madame said, smiling kindly. “I suggest that you focus on your season and stay true to your goal. You have to marry, my love. As for the duke, deep down you trust him with all your heart and soul. You always have from the moment you pinched his exquisite ear. Don’t lie to yourself or him.”

  Penelope traced the grooves in the wooden desk, her eyes refusing to meet Madame’s.

  “That is all for today. I will see you again tomorrow. And, Penelope, my final advice on the matter is to never forget the existence of Lady Lydia Snowly.”

  Penelope’s hand stilled. Her eyes met Madame’s, and the look she got in return was full of pain and pity.

  ***

  “Mother, stop keeping Penelope all to yourself. Why does she have to read to you every single day? I have something really important to discuss with her.”

  “Penelope has to practice her music, Anne, as per Madame’s instructions. Your gossiping can wait,” the dowager replied firmly.

  Anne scowled but consented. Accordingly, they trooped to the music room, dragging a reluctant Penelope along.

  The late afternoon sun streamed in through the tall windows, and Penelope stared at the various musical instruments placed around the room. She gulped.

  “Anne, I think we need to discuss something urgently. I can play for you some other day.”

  “No. You will play right now, Penelope. It is only Annie and I in this room. Come now, choose an instrument,” the dowager coaxed.

  “You cannot be worse than me,” Anne said and added in a whisper. “We will talk about that issue later. I will come to your room early tomorrow morning.”

  “Will we have time to plan?” Penelope whispered back.

  “I will be in your room before the sun rises,” Anne replied with a militant look in her eye.

  “Girls, stop whispering like imbeciles,” the dowager scolded.

  Penelope, looking sheepish, shuffled towards the piano and sat down. She pressed a key and the note rang true. The piano was tuned perfectly and ready for use.

  Penelope squeezed her eyes shut in dismay. She had run out of excuses. She had to play.

  She struck the first note just as the duke walked in.

  Her fingers paused, her eyes darting to the dowager in panic.

  The duke greeted his mother and sister with a kiss on the forehead, and then did the oddest thing. He came and stood by her side and held out his hand to her.

  She stared at his hand in confusion.

  He raised his eyebrow and smiled, “Give me your hand, Miss Fairweather.”

  She gave it without thinking.

  He clasped it gently and turned it over. He then bent his head and kissed the back of her hand.

  “Good afternoon,” he said softly.

  The dowager and Anne gasped in shock. The duke had never before treated Penelope like a human being, and here he was treating her like a lady no less.

  Penelope sat staring at the point where his lips had touched her skin.

  T
he duke’s voice broke her trance, “What’s the matter, Miss Fairweather? Is the instrument not good enough for you?” He stopped and frowned. After taking a deep breath, he spoke again in a politer tone. “I would like to hear you play.”

  Penelope frowned in annoyance, “I have never before handled such a fine instrument. I… I am not very good. I am afraid you will be disappointed.”

  “Stop dawdling, Penelope. We have only an hour left before we get dressed for dinner,” Anne said.

  Penelope turned to the piano once again. This time her stomach was fluttering, and she did not trust her voice. Her eyes darted to the duke. At his encouraging nod, she gingerly touched the keys.

  After the first few practice notes, her hands flew over the instrument. Closing her eyes she launched into a jaunty tune.

  Merrily I sang through the hole in the pant

  Of a big bottomed baboon.

  I was the legs you see while the head was Maryanne,

  Of a big bottomed baboon.

  We galloped across the stage,

  With leopards and lions,

  Peacocks, rabbits and a leathery old man,

  While I was part of a big bottomed baboon.

  Surely and merrily and happily we sang,

  Of wild jungles and fairy wine.

  My head it poked out,

  My tongue it stuck out,

  At the unhappy crowd,

  All through the hole in the pant

  Of a big bottomed baboooonnnnn!

  Penelope stopped and opened her eyes. She thought she hadn’t been so bad. Smiling, she looked at her audience.

  A deathly silence met her.

  After a minute a clap rang out, which soon turned into a standing ovation from Anne.

  The dowager yanked her daughter back down.

  “Err… that was … something. The song, perhaps not right for a social gathering, but you showed enthusiasm and your enjoyment was a pleasure to watch,” the dowager muttered.

  “Mother, that was ghastly and sung so badly that the animals she sang off would collapse and die after hearing the dreadful sound emanating from my excellent piano. I cannot have her touch the instrument again for fear that either my ears will bleed or that the servants will quit in anguish … What possessed you to sing something so ridiculous?” the duke stormed.