Regency Romances

by Grace Fletcher

  "Thank you."

  Cassandra nodded and stepped into the lane. Marcus' carriage was just disappearing around the bend. They set off after it, Marcus keeping pace with her, using his cane as he swung it. Something about him seemed different. It was nerves mixed with excitement. Cassandra wondered what was going on. Marcus had no reason to see her. Did he?

  Marcus glanced at her.

  "Have you found another position yet?"

  "No, not yet."

  Did Marcus just relax at that? But he didn't look at her. Maybe she had just imagined it.

  "What were you thinking of procuring?"

  "I don't know." Cassandra hadn't really thought about it. She hadn't even thought about getting a job for a while now. "Governess again, I suppose. Or companion. Maybe nursery maid. I think I can do that job."

  "Have you always wanted to work with children?"

  "Yes." Cassandra smiled. "I love children. They're such innocent delights. Even the unruly ones."

  Marcus was silent for a moment. Cassandra wondered what he was thinking and risked a glance at him. Then she realized he had stopped a way back and was staring at her intently. Cassandra turned to him.

  "Is something the matter?"

  "You would make a great mother."

  Cassandra couldn't help but laugh. The idea was ludicrous.

  "When am I ever going to become a mother? I'm too old for all of that."

  "Are you sure about that?"

  Chapter 10

  The Proposal

  Cassandra stared at him, but Marcus didn't blink. He looked like he had never been so sure of something in his life. Was he implying some other outcome with that comment?

  Cassandra needed to find out.

  "What are you implying?"

  "Don't discard the idea you'll never have children." Marcus approached her slowly, his eyes never leaving her face. "Someone might come along and prove you wrong."

  Then it clicked in Cassandra's head. She knew exactly what Susan had been trying to say, and she knew what Marcus was suggesting. Instead of feeling shocked at the thought, warmth slowly spread through her body. The thought of carrying Marcus' child made Cassandra feel giddy.

  But she knew that Marcus, trying to keep within propriety, wouldn't say outright what he really wanted.

  So she would have to take that step forward and do it herself.

  "And who would that be who is going to prove me wrong?" She asked with a slight smirk, stepping towards Marcus, who suddenly stopped in his tracks as she approached. She saw him gulp.

  "I have someone in mind." He replied softly.

  That wasn't the answer Cassandra had expected or wanted. She pretended to be confused.

  "Well, you'd better tell me because I'm a little bewildered."

  "I don't think you are at all."

  Caught out. But Cassandra didn't care. She grinned and reached out.

  "No, I'm not. I know exactly what you're talking about."

  She took hold of his lapels and tugged. Marcus went willingly and bent his head as Cassandra went up on her toes. His kiss was nothing like the one they had shared all those weeks ago. It was sweet, almost gentle. He was being restrained. Cassandra was enjoying the kiss, but she remembered with fondness the kiss he had given her before.

  His expression said he liked this side of her.

  "My goodness. That was unexpected?"

  Cassandra grinned.

  "I had some time to ponder over that position Susan was telling me about the other week. About you needing someone else? You never mentioned it to me, but Susan was implying something when she told me." She slipped her arms round Marcus' waist and felt his hands resting on the small of her back, his cane forgotten on the ground. "So I'm guessing she was saying something in particular about us."

  "I figured she would say it if I didn't." Marcus looked abashed. "She's known I've been fond of you for some time now."

  Cassandra blinked.

  "Really?"

  "Really." Marcus kissed her gently. "I'm just surprised you did this. Not that I'm complaining, but this is not you at all. You don't act impulsively."

  Cassandra giggled and snuggled closer, kissing his jaw.

  "You're known for doing things outside of society's rules. I thought it was time for me to do the same."

  Marcus chuckled and hugged her.

  "So you've figured out my desires, have you?"

  "I have. You want a wife. And Susan was suggesting you were going to ask me."

  "And?"

  Cassandra smiled against his chin, nuzzling his neck.

  "Ask me and you'll get the answer."

  Marcus lifted his head. He was still smiling as he cupped her cheek in his hand, brushing a thumb across her skin.

  "I told you I needed you, Cassie." He kissed her forehead. "I feel for you, and I knew I had to change for you. It's not perfection, but it's a start. What you see is the new me. Manners, my attire, everything."

  "And I like it." Cassandra pulled back and raised her eyebrows. "But what's the question?"

  "Cassie Mable, will you marry me?" Marcus pulled her back into his arms. "Forget our positions. I just want you."

  Cassandra didn't think anything could get better than this. She hugged him again before he pulled her in for another kiss.

  "Yes, I will. I'm not turning away the man I love."

  Marcus grinned. He picked her up and spun her round. Cassandra squealed and held on until he stopped, lowering her back to put her feet on the ground. He pressed a kiss to her head.

  "You're not going to regret this."

  "I know." Cassandra looked up and gave him a mock glare. "I just have one condition."

  "Anything."

  "Don't ask me to dance."

  Marcus laughed. It was the first time Cassandra had heard him laugh, and it sent tingles down her back.

  "I think I can manage that."

  He lowered his head and then Cassandra completely forgot why she was walking down the lane.

  *** The End ***

  The Earl’s

  Christmas Bride

  Regency Romance

  Grace Fletcher

  Chapter 1

  Overturned Plans

  "I t doesn't feel like Christmas to me unless the ground is blanketed with snow." Aunt Emmeline said. "All those years in India with you, Roger dear, I missed home so."

  Roger Mallow, who had been a Colonel that made the 19th regiment tremble as he walked past, bowed his head to his imperious wife. "Well, I'm just happy that it suits you, Emmeline." He said.

  "It does make my bones hurt, but my spirit is singing, and that's what counts." Aunt Emmeline declared. "It will be so good for me to go back to Huntingdale and meet the pastor again." With that, the formidable lady began to recite a veritable bowlful of gossip that she had been privileged to receive word of. Who was marrying whom, who had supposedly stolen what, and who had been seen gambling away their last penny? Aunt Emmeline gave her discourse with the air of an army man talking strategy as he disclosed top intelligence secrets.

  Roger Mallow caught the eye of his niece, Christina, who was wrapped up in two blankets and sat shivering in one corner of the rocking coach. There was a slight twinkle in her green eyes, though her expression was somber as she nodded along to Aunt Emmeline's words.

  "I've heard that Earl Morgan Huxley has finally gotten over his scandal." Aunt Emmeline said.

  At this, Christina felt her stomach twist. It had been an awful scandal last summer when Viscount Randolf Smythe had run away with the earl's fiance, Janina Andrews. Only the prince's own intervention had prevented the earl from dueling Randolf to the death. Nevertheless, whispers and concealed snickers that must have stung at his pride had continued to follow the earl.

  Christina herself had never met the earl, but she had intimate knowledge of the elopement. Just how involved she had been, was a secret she had told no-one, not even her dearest aunt. To hear the scandal discussed now, in the same tone as all the
other gossip had been, made Christina feel humiliated.

  At the time she had helped her cousin Janina escape from her cruel arranged marriage to Earl Huxley, Christina had felt sure that she was doing right by her childhood friend. Surely, no woman should be forced to marry a man that evil and yet, she wished that the entire affair would be forgotten soon. After all, she had only helped Janina because she wished the best for her dear cousin. She had no intention of causing pain to the earl, or having his reputation in ruins.

  "He's a good sort." Roger Mallow said, in response to his wife. "It’s unfortunate that he'll never live it down."

  "Oh but he might just." Aunt Emmeline winked. "I've heard that Lord Dunbarrow's younger daughter Delicia is angling to hook him."

  "Delicia Dunbarrow?" Christina felt delighted to hear this. "Not the most glamorous woman in all London? I heard that three dozen men have asked for her hand and have been dismissed."

  "Right." Aunt Emmeline nodded. "Rumor has it that she is in love with the earl or perhaps his magnificent castle."

  "I've been there once." Roger nodded. "Astounding place, right out of a fairytale. Rather makes Mallow Estate look like the cottage of a fisherman."

  "Oh don't be modest, Uncle Roger," Christina said. "I doubt I could find a finer Estate than yours in all of England."

  "Ah but you haven't seen the earl's." Roger shook his head. "Janina was a fool to elope with the Viscount."

  "Well, love does strange things to one's mind." Aunt Emmeline said with a sigh.

  Despite herself, Christina felt compelled to defend Janina. "Janina was entirely correct in eloping." She said.

  "Was she?" Aunt Emmeline leaned forward, curious. "Did you hear about it? I know you were to be one of the bridesmaids at the wedding. Perhaps you can give us details about it."

  Christina bit her lip and wished the entire topic could be somehow avoided. The coach rocked mightily, and the horses up ahead gave a loud neigh, giving her an opportunity.

  "The roads are positively horrible right now," Christina said. "Those poor animals must be freezing."

  "Oh, they've worked up a good sweat by now if I know them," Roger said. "We should be in Mallow by morning. A day before Christmas and just time enough to set out some evergreen boughs and holly."

  Smiling, Christina opened her mouth to enquire about the Yule Log when a horrible jolt threw her across the coach.

  The horse's neighed once more, as they tried to get their bearings on the icy road. It was too late, however. The desperate coachman whipped them hard, but to no avail. He was flung out of his seat as the entire coach overturned violently, and went crashing into a ditch by the side of the road.

  Christina woke up seconds later, the crash having knocked her unconscious. Her aunt and uncle were both lying in a crumpled heap together, just a foot away from her. Panicking, she attempted to wake them up, but her attempts were in vain. With only the moonlight streaming in through the now shattered windows, Christina saw that they were both grievously injured.

  Although panic was filling her body and clouding her mind, Christina immediately made her decision. She wasn't strong enough to lift her uncle and aunt away from the wreckage, so she had to find help, and fast.

  Pulling herself out through the tiny window, Christina ignored her scratches, and despite the chill air cutting her like a knife, she stood in the middle of the road, hoping to flag down a carriage.

  To her increasing realization, no carriage came this close to Christmas, most men and women were ensconced in their own homes, instead of being out on the road. How she wished that they, too, could have done the same!

  Worse yet, a storm was blowing in. The moon was soon hidden by dark clouds, and the wind began to rage and howl as it beat against her.

  What could she do? What possible hope did she have? Christina said a silent prayer, hoping against hope that some miracle would occur and come to their aid. As the moonlight winked out, she stood in the pitch black darkness, wondering if this could be the end.

  In the distance, a single light winked on! Wild hope fluttered against her chest. A lantern. Help might be close by!

  Picking up her skirts, she ran in its direction, hoping against hope that she would reach there in time.

  Fifteen minutes later, she stumbled onto the door of a cottage. Her teeth were chattering by now, and her toes had thankfully become numb instead of hurting. She'd made it, and there might be a chance to save Uncle and Aunt!

  Knocking on the door, she cried out for help. Immediately, she heard footsteps inside. The door opened, and a man stood looking down at her.

  A rough stubble covered his cheeks, and there was blood-flecked on his hunting clothes. A musket was in his hands, while a rough looking dog stood obediently by his knee. Was he a poacher, Christina wondered? For surely, hunting was prohibited on the private lands that she knew surrounded them for miles. Still, at the moment, she only cared if he could help her. Desperately, in halting words, she told him about their overturned coach and pleaded for help.

  "Please." She begged. "You must come…"

  His dark eyebrows drew together, and piercing blue eyes took just a moment to roam over her, assessing her injuries and calculating what to do next.

  "Right." He said. "Point me in the direction of the coach. As for you, there's a horse tied right outside the cottage. Get on him and let him take you back to the castle."

  "What castle?" Christina asked, confused. The relief of being in a warm cottage had her struggling to keep conscious. Spots seemed to flicker before her eyes. With an effort, she kept herself upright.

  The man seemed to sense her condition, for he shook his head with a sigh. "No." He said. "You're in no condition to go anywhere, especially by yourself."

  "I'll… I'll manage." she tried to say, but the words seemed not to come out. She felt strong arms encircle her as she crumbled, and darkness met her once again as she lost consciousness.

  Chapter 2

  Huxley's Castle

  W hen she awoke next, she was on a plush velvet armchair, with three blankets covering her and a roaring fire to her right. The room was elaborately furnished in the French style, with thick velvet curtains, and rich gold and red tapestries hanging from the walls. Above the fireplace was a landscape of the Italian countryside, larger than any she had ever seen before, and surrounded by an ornate gilded frame. She blinked. For a moment, the memory of what had happened seemed to elude her, before rushing back. Immediately, she sprang up, alarmed.

  "There now." A plump young lady with rosy cheeks and dark brown curls soothed her. "You need to rest, no more of this jumping about."

  "My aunt and uncle!" Christina exclaimed. "They need help. We must…"

  "They're being tended to by Doctor Sanders in the next room. The horses are safe in the stable, and the coachman just had a nasty knock, but he'll recover too." The girl said. "So you have no cause to worry about anyone. Now get back in those blankets, and rest with not a peep out of you."

  Christina gratefully snuggled back into the blankets, her mind reassured. For now, the surging panic was replaced with a soothing sense of peace. Slowly, though, her mind began to work again. Especially when a hot cup of cocoa was placed into her hands. The smell of cinnamon and the delicious creamy taste of chocolate helped her feel human again. Buttery warmth crept down her throat and settled into her stomach as she sipped. The young lady stood watching her like a mother hen.

  "Thank you so much," Christina said, blinking back tears. "You are extremely kind. I owe you my life."

  "I think not." The young lady smiled. "It's not me who saved you." She stepped aside, to reveal a man. Christina blinked. It was the poacher! So he had helped save them after all. He ought to have looked out of place, in his dirty hunting clothes and with his wild curly hair sticking out all over his head. The carpet on which he stood was probably richer than his entire family had ever been yet he did not seem intimidated by the wealth around him. His whole focus was on her, and his eyes wer
e locked on hers.

  "You're unharmed." He breathed in relief. "Thanks be to God, you are alright!"

  "Of course I am." Christina smiled, trying to make light of it. "All in a day's work."

  Her flippant attitude seemed to anger him. "I was quite afraid that you'd be impossible to save. Your aunt and uncle were protected from the wind by the coach, even though they were in bad shape. But you! What made you think of running through a storm dressed in hardly any wool! The cold could have done you in."

  "I had to find help," Christina said. "I was too desperate to notice if my clothes were protection enough."

  "You could have died." he said, and there was palpable anger in his voice.

  Christina knew she ought to feel grateful to him, and yet the tone of his voice simply made her furious. The other lady also seemed indignant, as she said, "Morgan, you're ridiculous; the poor girl had no other choice."

  He clenched his fist and stared down the woman, who raised her hand and said, "On the other hand, who am I to say. You're the hero who saved them all."

  Morgan shook his head. "I suppose it worked out for the best, but it makes my heart falter to think of the narrow margin by which this young lady avoided death."

  Softening a little, Christina said, "I understand that, and I wish to thank…"

  "No thanks needed." He waved off her words. "Take your time to recover, and that will be thanks enough."

  Christina bit her lip. What a noble man! Another man, especially one as poor as he, would perhaps have accepted her thanks and hinted that he would like a reward. But this one seemed genuinely grateful just at the fact that no one had been hurt. As he exited the room, Christina turned to the young lady who had been tending to her.

  "I suppose now that the excitement has died down, it is time for an introduction," Christina said. "My name is Christina Mallow. I am the daughter of Viscount Mallow of Herbertshire. My aunt and uncle are…"

  "Oh, I've talked to them already. Colonel Roger Mallow. He's actually been here once before." The girl nodded. "My brother is Earl Huxley. I'm the youngest, my name is Layla." She curtsied and offered her hand to Christina, who nodded, though frozen in shock.