Regency Romances

by Grace Fletcher

  Brandon chuckled and kissed her, threading his fingers through her hair.

  “I’ll take that as my answer.”

  *** The End ***

  The Duke

  & the Vicar’s

  Daughter

  Regency Romance

  Grace Fletcher

  Prologue

  Scotland was beautiful in the winter.

  It made life difficult for everyone, what with the snow and the harsh winds, but nobody could deny the beauty of their county. Benedict Campbell, Duke of Argyll, had a deep love for his country estate in the Highlands, and more so for the surrounding towns and countryside. Though he was long supposed to be back in London, he had decided to stay up north for the winter.

  The snow had stopped falling late that afternoon, but there was plenty underfoot as he strolled through Inveraray, the town of his birth, and the town his castle stood nearby. It was not very large, but that was the way Argyll liked it. There were still enough shops and service makers to get by, and only a couple of horse and carts took up space on the wide road. The streets were mostly empty, but the few people he saw inclined their head as he passed, most of them demure and shy in his presence. It did not bother Argyll; he was a solitary man, much preferring his own company to the greetings and party expectations of London society. It was refreshing to be back home in Argyll, to the quiet way of life.

  Even Glasgow, a place that many a potential bride had been proffered to him, seemed far removed from the Highlands.

  It was as he turned his back on the jail, ready to start back up the road to his estate that he heard the shouts. A lady was screaming, and she was clearly in distress.

  Taking off at a run, Argyll rounded a corner into an open roadway and was startled by what he saw. A young lady was pressed up against the wall, her gown ripped, and hair loose. Argyll felt a rush of anger and disgust at the man holding her and leapt forward, hauling him off the poor woman.

  There was a weak punch aimed at Argyll’s face, but he was quicker, smoothly ducking under the fist and wrenching the man’s arm back. Letting out a grunt of pain, the man struggled, and Argyll let him go, kicking him in the back of the legs. He took off, cursing as he did so, and Argyll turned back to the woman.

  “Are you okay?” He reached for her, touching her arm.

  Shaking and terrified, the woman gave him a quick nod, struggling to find her voice. She did not look harmed, but he stepped closer to be sure. As he tilted her head up, footsteps could be heard from the main street.

  “Oi!”

  Argyll looked up as several townspeople skidded around the corner. Looking between Argyll and the lady, they seemed to draw the wrong conclusion.

  “Get off of her!” One of the men grabbed for Argyll’s arms, trying to pull him away.

  “It wasn’t me,” Argyll tried to explain, stumbling back, appeasing the man by holding his hands up.

  “He wasn’t,” the woman said, her voice wavering. Her eyes were big and blue, and though still terrified, she met Argyll’s gaze unflinchingly. “He was helping me.”

  “That’s not what it looked like to me,” a gruff voice said, and more hands grabbed for Argyll. “You better get out of here.”

  “I must—”

  “Please,” the woman said, eyes dropping to the ground. “I will be fine.”

  Argyll did not like it; he had tried to help the woman, but he did not want to make an already tense situation any worse. He nodded quickly and made his way through the upset crowd. Part of him hoped that he would see the woman’s attacker again so that he could haul him before the law. He could appreciate the woman’s beauty as much as the next person, but that did not make what the man had done excusable.

  He looked back over his shoulder a couple of times as he made his way up the hill. The throng of townsfolk seemed to be surrounding the woman as she was led towards a group of houses clustered around the church. Perhaps someone on his staff would know who she was. The kitchen staff were always running down to the town for foodstuffs and wares.

  Though it was clear, he was not welcome right then, given time to cool down, he could check in on the woman and make sure that she was recovering well.

  Chapter 1

  A Rescue

  Inveraray Castle was beautiful. Argyll had always thought so, and not just because he had grown up there. Since moving to London and acclimatising to the way of life down there, he had missed his country estate more than he thought he would.

  He did not know why he continued to stay there, only that since his parents’ deaths he had wanted to escape his childhood home and put his past out of his mind. It had helped for a while, throwing himself into society with endless parties and wedding proposals, but he had turned away from them all. It had worn him down until he made it a point to stay at his country estate at least four times every year.

  Escaping the requests for marriage was necessary. Argyll had no intentions of marrying as he was happy to remain single. There were rumblings in his own castle, wondering whether he would have an heir, but he had a sister and a nephew who could replace him as duke when the time arose. For now, he was content as he was.

  The castle itself was large, but not overwhelmingly so. The staff was small, something Argyll preferred. He liked to know everyone, all the better to appreciate them, and even with his time spent away, he knew and trusted each member of staff.

  Mrs Fenway, the housekeeper who had been at the castle since he was a child, would always come around to greet him in the morning. “Have a nice walk in the town last night?”

  Argyll nodded. “I did. Though,” he added thoughtfully, “there was a problem.”

  Mrs Fenway made an affirmative noise and raised her eyebrows. “Aye?”

  “There was a woman,” he started, ignoring Mrs Fenway’s expression. “She was in trouble, and I helped her. I wanted to check on her.”

  The expression on Mrs Fenway’s face was unreadable, but Argyll didn’t let it bother him. He described the woman as best he was able, including her blue eyes and russet hair. When he had finished, she shut the door to the dining room and Argyll sat at the table which was already set for breakfast.

  “I know of her,” Mrs Fenway said. “She’s the vicar’s daughter.”

  Argyll nodded, running a finger along the table. “Have you heard anything?”

  “Not much talk this morning,” Mrs Fenway said. “Though you’ll have to keep in mind how folk around here will look on her.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Argyll was aware of the differences between the gentry and the common folk. It wasn’t something he let himself dwell on, wasn’t something he could control, but he didn’t understand what Mrs Fenway was trying to say. Before he could ask, she had disappeared back out into the hall. Now that Argyll knew the woman was the vicar’s daughter, it shouldn’t be too difficult to find her.

  Later that morning, he told the staff he would be going out again. Mrs Fenway gave him a knowing look, but she didn’t say anything else to the staff. Argyll was grateful; whatever she had meant with her words, he didn’t want to cause any more unnecessary problems for the woman.

  By the time he reached Inveraray town, it was already busy with people. Thankfully most of them seemed too busy to pay attention to him, and he managed to pass through the town relatively quietly.

  The vicarage was set out of the main town, next to the church. It was a simple house, but beautiful, and looked inviting, as a vicar’s house should. Argyll knocked on the door and then stood quietly, hands locked at the base of his spine.

  “Hello?” The door was pulled open and Argyll could see a mature woman, hair greying at the temples, and with a sharp nose. As soon as she looked him in the eye, he could see recognition on her face, and she bowed her head respectfully. “Your Grace.”

  “Hello, Mrs—?”

  “Arnold,” Mrs Arnold said. “How can I help you?”

  “There’s a woman here who was injured yesterday—”

 
“My step-daughter,” Mrs Arnold told him, and her expression darkened. There were obviously issues between them.

  “I came to see how she was doing. May I come in?”

  Argyll waited for the woman to make up her mind. She seemed torn but eventually pulled open the door, gesturing for him to come in. “She’s in the sitting room.”

  The house was plain but beautifully decorated, simple and perfect for a vicarage. He hesitated, not sure where the sitting room was and was saved from having to ask by voices filtering out of a nearby door. Peering around the doorframe, Argyll could see Miss Arnold sitting on the couch, pale and tired, talking to a younger child.

  “Greta, please go upstairs,” Mrs Arnold said from behind him.

  Miss Arnold and Greta both looked up, startled to see Argyll in the doorway. Miss Arnold paled even more if that was possible, and Greta’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “Mother,” Greta started, but at her mother’s stern look, muttered something under her breath and slipped past Argyll. With another quick glance at Argyll, Mrs Arnold followed her daughter out of the room.

  “Your Grace,” Miss Arnold said, her voice shaking.

  “I apologise for interrupting your day,” Argyll said, inclining his head slightly. Miss Arnold was watching him carefully, defensive and apprehensive in equal measure. “I just wanted to know how you were after last night.”

  Miss Arnold was surprised, but there was a small smile on her face. It had a touch of sadness to it. “I am well, physically.”

  Argyll’s heart clenched painfully. “You are frightened?”

  “Nay,” Miss Arnold said, too quickly. “Well, yes, a little. Though I am just feeling very saddened.” She gestured for Argyll to sit, and he did, after a brief hesitation. She sighed gently, clasping her hands together. She flushed, cheeks tinged red. “I am a fallen woman.”

  This must be what Mrs Fenway had tried to tell him.

  “Nobody in the village will speak to me.” Miss Arnold sighed again, looking dejected.

  Argyll did not understand. “Did they not know that you were being attacked? It was not your fault.”

  Miss Arnold gave him a considering look, brows furrowed in thought. “It looked compromising. Whether they know or not doesn’t mean they will care. It was what it was, and my reputation is destroyed.”

  Letting out a slow breath, Argyll nodded, but his chest was tight. Mrs Fenway had been apprehensive. Had she known what would become of Miss Arnold? It was hard to believe that people could turn their backs on her from a situation that was out of her control. “I hope I did not contribute in any way—?”

  Miss Arnold shook her head. “I would not have thought so. The damage was done the instant my dress was torn.”

  It was a sorry state of affairs.

  Argyll stayed only a few minutes more and then left Miss Arnold and her family behind. He did not know what was to become of Miss Arnold or what he could do to help her. Even with her assurances that he was not to blame, he could not help but think that he was partially responsible.

  However, if he had not intervened, something worse could have happened. Was it better for her this way?

  As he made his way back to the castle, Argyll turned the situation over in his mind. His guilt would not let him put it out of his head. Miss Arnold was beautiful, yes, but she was clearly a shy and careful young woman. Having her reputation besmirched would not aid her in finding someone who would accept her.

  Argyll hoped that he could help her out.

  Chapter 2

  A Circumstance Change

  As soon as the duke had taken his leave, Letitia remained in the sitting room, hand pressed to her mouth in thought. When she had been attacked, she had been terrified. There had not been time to think about the repercussions, she had just been desperate to get away from the man.

  When the duke had appeared, a saviour, she could barely believe it. She had seen him around the town often. Though they had their own services at the castle, the duke had come down many a time to sit in their church and listen to sermons. He had spoken to Letitia only once before when she had been younger. He had called her pretty, kissed her hand, and headed back to the castle. His kindness had stayed with her all these years, reappearing back in her life in spectacular fashion.

  Though she wished it could have been under better circumstances. Now she was left to fight for her own right to live happily and marry someone. For an event that was out of her control, she had been tarred with a reputation that was ill deserved.

  “What did he want?”

  Letitia’s stepmother, Rebecca, was standing in the doorway, hands on her hips. She didn’t look pleased, not that she ever did, but there was something hungry about her expression.

  Letitia dropped her hands to her lap, looking her stepmother in the eye. “He wished to know if I was well.”

  “Indeed?” Rebecca’s eyes were shrewd.

  “I told him that I would be well.”

  Rebecca’s mouth curled in distaste. “That is not altogether true.”

  “No,” Letitia agreed. “However, he is not to blame.”

  “No.” Rebecca didn’t say anything else, but there was an undercurrent of blame to her words, as though Letitia had done this to herself. Letitia and her stepmother had never gotten along, Rebecca all too keen to dismiss Letitia in favour of Greta, but it had never bothered Letitia. Her father doted on her as much as he could. Being the vicar to a small parish, he didn’t always have much time, but it was enough for her. She and Greta had also been close for years, and Letitia could not imagine life without them.

  It was painful to acknowledge that what had happened to her was as much a mark on her family as it was on her.

  “I will retire,” Letitia said, feeling the need to have some privacy. “I will come down when Father returns.”

  Rebecca said nothing as she left the sitting room and headed up the stairs quietly, but Letitia felt shame anyway and ducked her head. Approaching her bedroom, she could hear Greta playing in her room down the hall. As much as she desperately wanted company, Letitia let her be. It was bad enough that she was to be looked down on and ignored; she did not need to let her sister suffer any more than she would by association.

  Shutting the door to her bedroom, Letitia pressed against it, closing her eyes. She had to calm down if she did not want to burst into tears. She was stronger than this. She would not let this be the end of her. However much the people in this town despised her and wanted her gone, there were other places. It would be difficult—leaving her family was near unthinkable—but it was the only way she could make sure everyone was safe. Word would travel, perhaps, but the country was vast. She could find somewhere she would be happy.

  Chapter 3

  A Proposal

  Inveraray Castle was secluded enough that if he should wish it, Argyll had complete privacy for as long as he could want. Calling for Mrs Fenway as soon as he entered the foyer, Argyll led her into the sitting room, eager to hear from someone who had more experience with something like this.

  “Is there anything that can be done for her?”

  Mrs Fenway did not look very happy. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, and she shook her head gently. “I am afraid not. It will be difficult for her to marry, given her circumstances, and I should imagine her family will find her a position away from the town.”

  Miss Arnold was shamed that much?

  “It was not her fault,” Argyll protested. “She cannot help being accosted in the street.”

  “It is unfortunate,” Mrs Fenway agreed, and her expression was pained. “That is the way of things. Her status has diminished and there is nothing that can be done.”

  Argyll massaged his forehead with his fingertips. “Thank you, Mrs Fenway.”

  The housekeeper took her leave, and Argyll thought on the problem. If her own family would not see her safe, someone would have to look out for. Argyll was prepared to help her; he might not have initiated the first misdeed,
but he had somehow contributed to her downfall, be it through misapprehension or not.

  For most women, marriage was a way to secure their future and make sure they would be well taken care of. They barely knew each other, but there was one way that he could help her, and now that he had decided within himself that it was the right thing to do, he was resolved to tell her as soon as possible. It would be peculiar, turning up on her doorstep again so soon, but Argyll could not put it off any longer.

  It would not right everything for her, perhaps, but it would go a long way to securing a future free from poverty.

  Though he was eager to get things done, he made the decision to wait until the next day—surely nothing that Miss Arnold decided for herself would happen so quickly. Besides, there were provisions to be made if he was adamant about his decision, not least of which was informing his sister and nephew of his intent. It would affect them the most.

  Taking the afternoon to write a letter to his sister, Argyll made sure to keep his descriptions of Miss Arnold brief. They would no doubt meet in the future, but Argyll did not want the gossip to begin this early about the wife he would bring back to London. He made little mention of his plans for the future though he had no doubt she would infer them, anyway. Though they weren’t particularly close, Argyll and his sister knew each other well, enough to state flaws and virtues easily, and Argyll was well versed in his sister’s adherence to—and adoration of—social function. Miss Arnold would not be a great match for him, and she would say so, but Argyll had always done what he thought was right.

  This was the right thing to do. He would not presume to dictate Miss Arnold’s life, and there was every chance she could say no, so he would hold off on sending the letter until he had her decision.

  It wasn’t until he had sealed the envelope that he realised how eager he was for her to say yes, and not only to assuage his guilt. There was a part of him that longed to make Miss Arnold safe, to see someone whose life was falling so quickly out of control have the happiness they deserved. Perhaps she had envisioned something different for her life, but Argyll could only do what he thought was right.