Regency Romances

by Grace Fletcher

  “What?” he grunted.

  “Lydia Clinton,” he heard her whisper. “She has you doting over her whenever she steps through the doors of this here manor.”

  “And?” he grunted, hating where the discussion could lead to.

  “She is a beautiful young woman and of royal and wealthy descent too. It would be of great benefit if our houses were to unite…what with some people considering that you alone might not be fit to rule the duchy.”

  “Where is this coming from, Mother?” he had to ask. Her tone had reduced to a bare whisper, almost as if she was thinking and speaking to him at the same time.

  “You have caught yourself a traitor in the manor, David, and it is impressive that you have. There will be more talks within and outside of these walls until you let everyone know you know what is right for the duchy, and you are not afraid to do it.”

  She was talking about him showing strength, and it wasn’t lost on him. “And you think marrying Lydia would let people know enough?”

  “Not enough, but it is a starting point. Besides, you are not getting younger. A duke needs a beautiful woman by his side, to bear him fruit…a son or a daughter, perhaps.”

  He had always imagined that she would talk to him about procreation someday, but he hadn’t thought it would be about making some groups of his subjects satisfied instead of satisfying his yearning for love. He shook his head, standing to his feet and slowly leaving her to her speech.

  “A dinner party before Christmas,” she said before he could move three steps away. “It would be the perfect timing…the perfect event to bring many debutantes – all of the royal descents – along with young Lydia and see which one of them wants you.”

  She hadn’t noticed the disappointment in his eyes, nor had she seen how he stared at her with so much displeasure. Instead of hurling words from his heart at her though, he nodded, leaving her to her wish and to whatever plans she had for getting him a bride.

  He had no intention to reward her efforts by tying the knot with anyone. At the moment, all he could think about as he walked out of the room was the maid he had left in the middle of the garden minutes ago.

  He still didn’t understand why he always felt the need to be close to her.

  ***

  Martha was barking instructions to the younger maids by the time Cornelia stepped into the kitchen. For the past few hours before nightfall, Cornelia had tried to avoid the older woman, fearing what she might think of her after she had seen her so close to the duke a few days after he threw her father into the dungeon. Martha might not speak about it, but Cornelia knew she and her father had been lovers for a while. She had been the one to care for him more than Cornelia had the time he had suffered from severe fever illness.

  Holding her breath and stepping towards her, Cornelia paused when Martha swirled around and saw her before she could get close enough for comfort. “Good evening, Martha,” she said. “I was hoping I could have a word.”

  Martha’s eyes betrayed her emotions. They squinted to look critically at her before she nodded and barked new instructions at the maids who were mopping stains off the tiled floors. “Come, child,” she whispered, finally guiding Martha out of the kitchen towards the tiny stairs that led to the maid chambers upstairs.

  “Martha…” Cornelia began, but Martha threw her a curt look over her shoulder to keep her quiet. She waited until they had gotten unto the next floor and was out of earshot before she turned to her with a grunt. “You are a playing a dangerous game child,” she whispered.

  Cornelia frowned and shook her head. “It is nothing of what you think…”

  “Oh, it is but everything, going by what I saw in the garden,” Martha interrupted her with another scowl. “Do you think you can get your father out of the dungeon by getting close to the duke?”

  She had to pause in her step and stomp her feet at her. “You—you think I am seducing…getting close to Duke Durham because I want to get Father out of jail?”

  Martha stopped in her tracks too and turned around fully to stare at her. “You are a maid in this here manor, Cornelia.” she sighed. “I remember how heartbroken Kolb was all the years he was here without you. Even while he is down there…in that horrible pit…I think he wouldn’t want you to do anything to endanger yourself.”

  Martha had quickly gone from chiding her to expressing how she was concerned about her. Cornelia knew she ought to be angry at the assumption that she was throwing herself at the duke, but she slowly turned towards Martha and held both her hands. “It was nothing, what you saw, Martha,” she assured her. “Duke Durham was only there to ask me why I hadn’t been out of my chamber. He said he spoke to you about my wellbeing.”

  Martha stared up to look at her and nodded as if she had also considered the possibility. “He is a good man, really,” she said, “but good men do not always have the chance to stay good within these walls. I have been here longer than Kolb, and I see what becoming the duke does to people.”

  With that, Martha slowly drew her hands from hers and heaved a sigh to control her emotions. “You—you wanted to have a word, child,” she said with an even tone.

  Cornelia was tempted to ask her what she had meant with her previous statement, but being reminded of why she had approached the woman was a good trick. She cleared her throat and brought up the topic of her father’s innocence. “He seems to think someone wants him gone from the manor.”

  Martha shook her head doubtfully. “Another servant in the manor, perhaps?” she whispered.

  “No,” Cornelia replied. She stared around them unconsciously, wondering if any of the maids weren’t eavesdropping on them. Martha seemed to have caught on her worries though, for she held her hand and began to walk down to her room with her. Once the door clasped shut behind her, she turned to her and asked, “Kolb told you he was framed?”

  “Aye, Martha,” Cornelia responded. “Father would never spew such nonsense about the duke being illegitimate or unfit. You, of all people, should know.”

  “But the duke insists that….”

  “He only speaks of what he has been told–all lies from various sources.” Cornelia interrupted. “Father says before he was dragged out of his chamber, Andrew, the boy from the stable, has been questioned by the guards too, along with Thomas from the barn. They all told the duke that Father asked them to speak to as many people in the duchy as possible about his illegitimacy when he clearly didn’t. Father would do nothing of the sort.”

  Martha was as stunned as she had expected her to be, and Cornelia walked towards her with a worried expression. “If you know of anything or of anyone that could help me find the truth…the real truth…you should tell me, Martha.”

  “Me?” Martha breathed, looking more stunned.

  “Yes. Father wouldn’t say more than what he has. You have been with him all this while, caring for him as if…as if…” she paused, heaving a sigh. “You should tell me if there has been anything odd about him, Martha. Maybe we can both prove his innocence and get him out of that dungeon.”

  Martha stepped away from her, shaking her head. “There has been nothing,” she said. “Kolb…he has been nothing but himself in recent weeks. He has been happier too.”

  “How about Andrew or Thomas? The duke seems to treat you like his steward, even though he has never acknowledged it. You know every servant and stable boy in the manor. And no one has seen neither Andrew nor Thomas since the night father was taken…do you know what has become of them?”

  Martha slowly inched towards her bed and slumped onto it with a sigh. It brought the size of her bed and her entire room to Cornelia’s attention. It was her first time in the room, and she noticed how it was more spacious than hers and with a much larger bed.

  “I could ask Alexander at the stables about Thomas if you want,” Martha said, getting her attention back to her. “I wasn’t of the news that anyone was questioned apart from Kolb.”

  “That is because someone is covering every
track that might prove Father’s innocence. You see it now, don’t you, Martha? Tell me you see it!”

  She had become so frantic with setting her father free, she needed at least someone else to believe that he was indeed innocent. Finally, Martha looked up into her eyes and nodded. “I will do everything I can, child,” she said. “Kolb means a lot to me too.”

  Tears had begun to well up in Martha’s eyes, just like the night four days ago. Cornelia quietly sat on the bed beside her and wrapped her arms around her. “Thank you, Martha,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

  They stayed like that for a while, both of them lost in the thoughts of the one man that united them. “There is something else,” Cornelia whispered after a while. “The guards have been instructed to never let me see Father except once in a month. He needs his medicine, and I may need to get it to him another way.”

  To this, Martha nodded and patted her hand. “Get it to me, and it would get to him in the dungeon, even if I have to squeeze it under the food trays for the guards.” She also moved away from Cornelia and stood to her feet. “I—I should return to the kitchen,” she whispered. “There is so much to do, what with the coming dinner party.”

  “Wha—what dinner party?” Cornelia asked.

  She turned to her with a snort. “It seems the dowager duchess would be inviting all the society women in and out of the duchy to come entice Duke Durham in a fortnight. We have got only that long to get the entire manor rid of dust and decorated with new flowers, furniture from the attic….”

  Martha continued to speak but somehow, bringing up the duke again got images of him sweeping through Cornelia’s mind. She remembered how pleasant he smelled and how his blue eyes stared into hers with…with so much interest. His chest had felt like a wall when she placed her hand on it, and she wondered what else about him could be so impressive and pleasurable.

  Whatever she wondered about him though, she concluded with a sad sigh. There were women who were always made for a man of his status, and she wasn’t one.

  Chapter 4

  A Debutante

  Without Wealth

  Durham had gotten so busy with the family business, he hadn’t noticed how fast two weeks had gone by. He hated the smell at the colliery but staying away for too long and letting the stewards look over mining was fast becoming a lesser option. Every week, the colliery dug up plenty of coal, and while there hasn’t been a man to steal from the Garnett’s before, it was becoming more likely that someone was now.

  The mine had processed less coal for a month before Durham began to ride there four times in a week, looking over things himself. Even though he was unable to uncover answers to the earlier drops, he suspected foul play each time coal left the mine for processing. The men seemed to be working endlessly to mine as much as possible, but something wasn’t right. There had been a rise in profit since he began to look over things himself.

  It was beginning to appear as if someone had been stealing coal, and the men hadn’t even noticed.

  He was considering hiring men from outside the duchy to investigate the theft when someone tapped quietly on his bedroom door.

  The soft thud brought him back to the present…to his reflection in the mirror where he looked quite different in a new tux and with a well-shaven beard. The dowager duchess hadn’t just organized a large dinner party without his help—inviting all the society families he could think of—she had forced him to look the part of a bachelor to socialize with debutantes who wanted him. She had frequented his rooms throughout the week, telling him of the women she had sent invitations to, and particularly asking him to get rid of his rough beard and make a good impression.

  He hated crowds as much as he hated impressing anyone. It was why he was never her favorite …at least until his mother didn’t have a choice.

  “Your Grace, may I?”

  Durham adjusted his bow tie in the mirror and cleared his throat. He had almost forgotten there had been a tap on the door. The door slowly cringed open now with Cornelia’s lanky frame appearing; her eyes averted to her feet as he glanced at her.

  “Come in, Cornelia,” he waved his hand, instructing her to step towards him.

  She took a step forward reluctantly and then took another step. “The Duchess Elizabeth wishes to know when you would come out of your room to welcome your guests,” she whispered.

  His guests? He was tempted to mention that the entire dinner party was more about her than it was about him. He nodded in response to her message though, stepping towards Cornelia with a smile.

  “I expect I am supposed to tell you anytime soon?” he asked.

  It did the trick. She glanced up to look at him with a frown. “I should—should tell the dowager duchess ‘soon’?”

  He pretended to be thinking about it. “Uh, no. I suppose not,” he finally grinned, imagining what the look on the dowager duchess face would be. “What would you suggest I say?”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you,” he whispered back. “I suppose you could tell if I am completely dressed enough to be down there with everyone.”

  In response, she stared intensely at his clothing, and he wondered if she thought he was handsome in his suit. As if she could read his mind, colors flew to her cheeks as their eyes met, and she once again dropped her gaze to her feet.

  Was she always this coy around men or this was because he was her duke and was failing woefully at keeping her always around him?

  Why was he continually doing that, anyway? He gritted his teeth as he stepped towards her again, taking in the view of her shapely body beneath her dull gray dress. “So, how is it–my clothing?” he asked. “Do you find it befitting for a man of power?”

  She nodded while he stepped towards her again, only leaving a little distance between them. “I think it suits just fine, Your Grace,” she bowed.

  “And I am ready to be led to the throng of men and women in the hall?”

  She glanced at him again and chose to nod her head instead of muttering a word. He nodded back, too, hiding a smile. “I suppose you can tell the dowager duchess the duke will be with his guests in another minute or two then,” he finally instructed. “I should have my wits about me, as well as the preparedness to spend a night with women who are only here for what I am, and not who I am.”

  He hadn’t meant to speak his thoughts out loud, but he was glad he did. Cornelia glanced up to smile pitifully at him, and he had a feeling she understood his reluctance to be a part of the party in the first place.

  He thought merely looking at him was going to be her only form of compassion, but she surprised him by clearing her throat. “I have been to the dinner hall, Your Grace, helping Martha to arrange the dishes,” she said soothingly. “There are beautiful women, and some speak kindly of you too.”

  Kindly? He wondered what or who she considered being kind, given her perception as a maid. Does it include treating her as an equal, or not talking down on her because of her background? Sometimes, he considered that every perception in their society was dependent on what people have and the power they controlled.

  “So, you think I may be wrong and may find myself happy in their midst since they…uh…seemed beautiful and spoke kind of me?”

  He had deliberately mimicked her soft subservient tone, and he smiled when he noticed more colors flushing through her cheeks. On second thought, it did look as if she was a bit embarrassed too. Perhaps his question made it seemed as if she was too naïve and trusting.

  Before he could point out that he hadn’t meant it that way though, she bowed courteously at him, clasping her lips shut. Once she raised her eyes to look at him again, he felt the inkling to draw her close and tell her he would prefer to spend the day watching her continuously stare at him. There seemed to be something soothing and equally pleasurable about how she did it…or about how he stood tall, towering above her and watching as she cowered before him.

  “I will do well to get back to the dowager duchess and inform her o
f your decision.”

  She finally turned on her heels and hurried away from him. He sauntered after her instinctively, blurting out the first question in his head before he could control himself. “Will you be in the hall, Cornelia?” he asked.

  She paused, turning to look at him once more. “Uh, yes, Your Grace,” she whispered. A second passed before she also added, “Martha would need me from time to time.”

  I may need you too. “Good,” he whispered instead, finally dismissing her by forcing his gaze from her.

  She left with apparent confusion in her eyes. He didn’t blame her. He had been acting weirdly around her in the past few weeks, it shocked him too.

  With the way his heart raced after he stared back into the mirror to steal a last glance at himself, he knew he was neck-deep with feelings for her. The smile on his face wasn’t because of how handsome he found himself; it was because he looked forward to another pleasurable feeling of watching her move around the hall in her pretty dull dress.

  Maybe one day, he would give in to the urge to tell her how much she affected him.

  ***

  “Oh, you have but a nice manor, Duchess Elizabeth. I am sure the duke keeps it sparkling clean and decorated to such an exotic state.”

  “And you should see the garden from the balcony. Absolutely splendid.”

  “And I must tell you, Duchess Elizabeth, I love your earrings. Such a delicate and yet beautiful design with rare southern silver.”

  “It does complement her skin tone too–brilliant!”

  Cornelia was forced to close her eyes and imagine herself somewhere else…her small cozy chamber perhaps–to keep herself from listening to the debutantes’ conversation with the dowager duchess. They flocked around her with smiles and grins, intending to impress her with flowery words and compliments. It was apparent several of them only said what needed to be said to get on her good side, in case the duke was to pick them when the dinner was over.

  “Speaking of the duke, what does he like, Duchess Elizabeth? A walk in the garden when the golden rays of the evening sun shine brightly over the beautiful flowers?”