Regency Romances

by Grace Fletcher

  “I will tell your father,” Lucille said, resting the invitation back on Marianne’s dresser. “Dinner will be served in an hour.”

  Though she wished to abandon dinner in favor of going to see Helena, Marianne refrained. Though the news was exciting, and they had a lot to plan for, Marianne tried to keep her excitement at bay. It was easier said than done, especially when she thought of the duke and hoping that he, personally, had been the one to invite her. As a society newcomer, it was customary for Marianne to be invited to most parties that had eligible bachelors, and though the duke himself was an eligible bachelor, it was quite another thing for him to have personally invited Marianne.

  Dinner was a quiet affair though Marianne’s father seemed pleased with the news of the invitation.

  “To be invited by a Duchess is a monumental thing, Marianne. You are being seen in all the right places.”

  Her father’s praise was rare, even when Marianne knew that his happiness came more out of her association with people of importance than out of any pride in her as a person, but it was enough.

  Marianne smiled gently, staring down at the tablecloth. “Thank you, father.”

  Making eye contact with her mother, Marianne silently begged her mother not to mention that the duke was equally responsible for the invite. Though he had been pragmatic about the duke during the dance, her father would take any invitation seriously, and Marianne did not want both parents’ expectations weighing on her. Marianne wished to enjoy herself at the party, not have to concern herself with finding a husband.

  A fleeting glance, she told herself seriously, would be enough.

  Thankfully, Lucille turned the dinner talk around to the next batch of society functions, and though Marianne tried to contribute, her mind was elsewhere. There was a small part of her that hoped that, after this party in Hertford, she wouldn't need to remain eligible. It was a childish dream, perhaps, but not one she was willing to part with.

  “I am going to retire,” Marianne said, as dinner came to a close. Her father nodded though her mother’s eyes lingered. “I wish to see Helena early tomorrow and inform her of the invitation. Goodnight, Father,” Marianne moved around the table, leaning in to press a kiss to her father’s cheek. He touched her hand gently. Lucille leaned up, stroking a hand through Marianne’s hair. Though her pushiness and expectations were a little much, Marianne adored her mother. “Goodnight, Mother.”

  “Goodnight my darling,” Lucille kissed Marianne’s cheek. “See you in the morning.”

  As soon as the door to Marianne’s bedroom had closed, she dropped onto her bed, arms spread, grinning up at the canopy of her bed. It was all she could do not to scream out in joy. The invitation was still sitting on her dresser, and Marianne reached over for it, clutching it in her hands. It was such a simple thing, an innocent piece of paper and seal, but it had given Marianne a brighter outlook for her future, and no matter how the trip to Hertford itself played out, she hoped that she would be a better person for it, for seeing Fife again.

  Chapter 4

  Where is the Duke?

  As Marianne had expected, Helena was pleased and excited to join her in Hertford. Helena had been paraded around at most of the same parties though she had her eye on a young banker from London. It was not what her family would have hoped for her, but she was adamant, and Marianne had admired her for that choice. It contributed to her decision to find someone she loved and hold on to them for as long as possible. Helena had more to lose than she in station, and her refusal to bend to her father’s will gave Marianne the hope that she possessed the same strength.

  The ride to Hertford was mostly uneventful. Marianne always loved travelling. Spending most of her life in London, she saw precious little in the way of the countryside. Whenever she got to explore the surroundings, it was if a whole new world had opened for her. There were often people on the road, and out in the fields animals roamed. Marianne spent the journey with her head out of the window, watching the world pass by.

  “So if the duke doesn’t show?”

  Marianne’s heart skipped, and she gave Helena a frown. “Don’t joke about things like that.”

  Helena held up her hands though she was still grinning. “Marianne, there is not a man on this Earth that could resist you. I was not at the party, but even I know this duke, whoever he is, came away from that party with a lasting impression of you.”

  Though Marianne couldn’t help but hope that Helena was right, she could not let herself believe it. Having the duke think of her as often as she had thought of him was a great and fascinating thought indeed, but she could not let herself think of it as reality. She lapsed into silence, which Helena did not try to break too often, seemingly content to spend the rest of the journey reading a book. Helena was an avid reader, often talking to Marianne of fantastic worlds. And while Marianne had no such inclinations, it was enough for her imagination that, given the splendor of the countryside every time she saw it, dreams of living in a world that was both foreign and beautiful were overwhelming. It was part of the reason she declined so many suitors; she had little need for a life in London. She wanted more for herself though it proved increasingly difficult to find.

  “I wish to see more than just Hertford,” Marianne admitted, as she looked out at the countryside. “I wish to spend every day in the country.”

  “It would be nice,” Helena answered, marking her book and staring out of the window. “Imagine being able to walk the hills and ride whenever you felt like it.”

  It was a pleasing thought and one that carried Marianne the rest of the journey to Hertford. Helena did not return to her book, instead regaling Marianne of a life they could have, given a flight of fancy. As the Hertford Estate loomed in the distance, reality settled back upon them and they both took in the grandeur of the house and its gardens.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  The building itself was quintessentially Georgian, the Hertford Estate having been rebuilt after a fire. Marianne thought it looked splendid, the tan brick and white pillars and edging stood out starkly against the green of the countryside. Surrounded by farmland and a lake, it was everything Marianne had dreamed of for herself.

  As the carriage pulled up in front of the house, the staff were there to welcome her and Helena, a footman taking their bags, and the butler leading the way into the house. Inside, the house was just as grand, and Marianne could not believe she had the opportunity to spend a week at the estate.

  “We are so lucky,” Helena whispered furiously, clutching at Marianne’s elbow.

  Marianne took her arm, squeezing gently. She could not say anything, breath stolen by the interior of the house, but as they took the stairs towards their rooms, Marianne could hear talking and laughing from the landing. She wondered how many guests had been invited. The further they walked down the hall, rooms already occupied around them, Marianne and Helena exchanged a look. There must have been a good fifty people on this floor alone. That made for a very impressive party though it would make her chances of running into the duke that much slimmer.

  The footman left them and their bags alone in the room and departed with a nod.

  “Well,” Helena said, taking in the room slowly. “A grand room in a grand house! Did you ever think, Marianne?”

  “No.” Marianne sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes wide. The room itself was a reflection of the rest of the house: beautiful and decadent. It was more than Marianne had ever seen with all of her society balls. “There are so many people here.”

  Helena waved a hand dismissively, staring at herself in the dresser mirror. Even the dresser looked more expensive than most of the items in Marianne’s own home. “You will outshine them all.”

  Cheeks heating at the compliment, Marianne ran her hands over the bed sheets. They were a soft cotton, the canopy above her head matched the sheet trim and she sighed, closing her eyes. “I wish to see the duke again, just once. Then I will be satisfied.”

  When she op
ened her eyes, it was to see Helena staring at her, mouth quirked up into a wry smile.

  “What?”

  “Marianne,” Helena said, coming to join her on the bed, “sometimes I think you know exactly how beautiful and wonderful you are, and others I doubt myself.”

  That was exactly how it was in Marianne’s head—when she attended balls, it was as if she was a completely different person. She was confident and assured of her beauty, how her family was important enough that she was desired as a wife. When she was removed from the eyes of society, self-doubt and wonder would creep in, causing her to rethink her place in society.

  “I wonder sometimes,” she admitted, “if I am as desirable as society thinks.”

  Helena’s eyebrows raised, but there was a sympathy on her face that Marianne couldn’t understand. “I would not lie to you. Believe me when I tell you that yes, you are as desirable as everyone believes. If I did not think you were, I would not let you into the jaws of society.”

  Marianne pulled Helena into a hug, grateful to have her as a friend. “Thank you, Helena. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

  “Fail to see your worth,” Helena told her, but she returned the hug fiercely. “I suppose I shall just have to remain here with you, letting you know just how much the men of this great country want to have you for their own.”

  It was true that Marianne’s status—and the wealth her father possessed—was attractive in the eyes of the men of society, but it was also true that were much more appealing ladies. Marianne had age and strength of character on her side, she supposed, and she had an education that spoke volumes.

  Helena took her hand and tucked a strand of Marianne’s hair behind her ear. “When we go down to dinner, we shall look for this duke of yours and see if we can’t get him to spend a considerable amount of time with you.”

  “Alright,” Marianne said, feeling her friend’s confidence buoy her own.

  Unfortunately, as both Marianne and Helena were introduced to the dining room at large, there was no sign of the duke. The Duchess of Hertford was present, and as she inclined her head to Marianne, her smile was small. Marianne recognized Lord Fife and his wife at the gathering however and introduced herself.

  Lady Christina immediately lit up. “Miss Drake! I had hoped you would come.”

  There was an unreadable expression on Lord Fife’s face as he took Marianne’s hand, but he was smiling, and there was a light in his eyes. “Miss Drake. I trust you have settled in?”

  “It is a beautiful house,” Marianne agreed, accepting his courtesy kiss. “I am honored to have been asked.”

  “Nonsense,” Lady Christina said, with a wave of her hand. As she dropped it, she took Marianne’s hand in her own, a familiar gesture, but one Marianne welcomed. “As if Arthur would have left you off of the guest list.”

  Arthur. It was a wonderful name, though as soon as Lady Christina said it, her husband sighed.

  “My darling,” he said, voice low. “We are in company.”

  Lady Christina gave him an unimpressed look and Marianne had to smother a laugh behind her hand. It was very familiar for polite society, but either Lady Christina spent little time in the societal eye, or she had no compunction for social niceties. Marianne hoped that it was a little of both; it was refreshing for someone to have little regard for the proper way to do things. “It is not as if Miss Drake is going to start calling him Arthur, darling.”

  “I would not,” Marianne agreed. She gave Lady Christina a bright smile. “Please thank His Grace for the invitation. I am most grateful.”

  “I’ll pass on the message,” Lord Fife said, giving his wife a knowing look.

  Lady Christina squeezed Marianne’s hand and let it drop.

  As they moved toward the table, Helena leaned in close to Marianne, whispering furiously. “Have you met them before?”

  “That’s the duke’s brother, Lord Fife, and his wife. I was introduced just before the dance with the duke.”

  Helena’s eyes were wide and round as if hearing about Marianne dancing with the duke, and the reality of the situation was only just hitting her. “It is one thing to hear about it,” Helena said eventually, “but to be friends with a Lord and Lady!”

  “We’re not friends.” Marianne took her seat at the table, even the silverware seemed to reflect the grandeur of the estate. “We met at a party.”

  “Still.” Helena ran her fingers slowly down a fork. “To think you know people who live in a house like this.”

  Marianne could hardly believe it herself, sometimes. She hoped that the duke would still come down for dinner. Neither Lord Fife nor Lady Christina had given an indication that he would be absent.

  “I regret that my cousin cannot join us,” the Duchess said, as she took pride of place at the head of the table. Marianne’s heart sank, but she tried not to let it show on her face. “He sends his regards but is feeling unwell this evening.”

  Talk started up as soon as dinner was served, and though Marianne tried to include herself, she ate silently, hoping that she would see the duke before the party.

  Chapter 5

  First Sight

  It had been three days since Marianne had arrived at the estate, and though she had been introduced and spoken to many people in the household, either at dinner or throughout the day, she had yet to meet the duke. He did not show up to dinner, and he remained mostly absent throughout the day. People had spoken of seeing him, speaking to him about various things, but Marianne herself had never had the pleasure of his company.

  She had wondered if he was avoiding her, confiding in Helena about her fears. Though Helena tried to assure her, Marianne could not shake the feeling. There were many people at the estate who had not seen nor spoken to the duke, and that should have assuaged her feelings, but it did not.

  Now that it was the night of the party, she hoped that he would be in attendance.

  Her gown had been made especially for the evening, and as she took a seat in front of the dresser so that Helena could do her hair, she wondered if it was enough to stand out amongst everybody else at the party.

  “You look fine,” Helena said, correctly interpreting the expression on Marianne’s face. “If he does not come to you now, then he does not deserve to come after you at all.”

  Marianne smiled, fiddling idly with her comb. “I hope you are right.”

  “I’m always right,” Helena said dismissively, but she was smiling.

  As they made their way down to the ballroom, Helena’s arm tucked in Marianne’s, Marianne greeted a couple she had met the night before. Lord Essex and his wife were the picture of gentry though Marianne noted the Lady Essex’s eyes linger on her gown in appreciation. Her cheeks were hot, but with pride rather than embarrassment. It lifted her spirits enough that when she and Helena swept into the ballroom, she was brave enough to approach the Duchess herself.

  “Your Grace,” Marianne said, bowing her head.

  “Miss Drake.” The Duchess was smiling wide, her cheeks flush with happiness, and she gestured to the rest of the room. “Please enjoy yourself. I do hope you’ll dance.”

  Marianne assured her she would and slipped away from Helena’s hold. “Find us somewhere to sit? I just have to take a moment.”

  Helena thankfully said nothing though there was a knowing look on her face. She disappeared into the throng of tables and seats, leaving Marianne to stand off to one side, eyes scanning the crowd. She knew exactly who she was looking for, and she had no doubt that she could find him amongst the crowd; his hair and eyes had been burned into her memory since their dance.

  As her eyes drew closer to a room a little left of the grand piano in the corner, she saw a figure hovering in the doorway, looking upon the guests but making no move to join them. She recognized the side of his face almost immediately, and the way his hair swept back from his face. It was the duke.

  Heart racing, Marianne slowly made her way towards the piano, keeping her pace slow
and her destination vague. She did not want to draw attention to him. It was obvious to her that he was trying to keep out of the eye of the partygoers, and she would not do him the disservice of making her approach obvious. The duke disappeared into the room though he did not close the door. Marianne wondered why he did not wish to join the partygoers. Part of her rebelled at disrupting his solitude, but he had sent her an invitation, and though Lady Christina had assured her that she would pass on Marianne’s thanks, Marianne wished to do so for herself.

  The room itself was dark, the curtains mostly drawn across the windows. A little light spilled in from the gap between them, giving enough illumination that Marianne could see the duke outlined against a billiard table. He was running his fingers over the soft felt, looking up at her approach.

  Immediately, Marianne’s heart seemed to stop, picking up at a hammering pace as his face was revealed in the low light. Though the right side of his face was beautiful and unmarked, the right eye a bright blue, the side of his face with the cloudy eye was a mass of scarring, his mouth quirking up horribly in one corner, the skin wrinkled and pink.

  “Oh,” she said, her mouth dry. Revulsion settled in her stomach and she didn’t know how to process what she was seeing. Pressing a hand to her chest, she swallowed.

  “Miss Drake,” the duke started, looking apprehensive and sick. “Please–”

  “I must go,” Marianne said, giving in to the urge to flee.

  As she was leaving the ballroom, she did not hear the duke come after her, nor did she hear anyone calling for her to return. She took the stairs quickly, ignoring the stares and mutterings of some guests, and closed the door to the room behind her. She did not know how to begin processing what she had seen. The duke had been such a charming man at the dance, and she had been longing to see him again for so long that now she had, she could not reconcile him with the face she had seen.

  It was no wonder the man took to hiding in the shadows if that was how he looked. Part of her was ashamed at her actions, her parents had always impressed on her the importance of politeness, but Marianne could not help her reaction, any more than she could help the revulsion settling low in her belly. She did not want to be the kind of person who would judge a man by his face, had always assumed she would be respectful of a disability, but it was one thing to hope to be a better person, quite another to put it into practice.