Love Stories of Enchanting Ladies: A Historical Regency Romance Collection

by Bridget Barton

  “What do you say to an afternoon together?”

  “Have you not got work to do?”

  “I have, but it is nothing that cannot wait until tomorrow. I think I would rather spend the afternoon with my beautiful wife.”

  “I do love you, Daniel.”

  “And I love you, Eliza. I always shall.”

  THE END

  Can't get enough of Eliza and Daniel? Then make sure to check out the Extended Epilogue to find out…

  Will Eliza finally re-engage with her family?

  How does dreadful Nella enter the picture again?

  Will the whole family be re-united in the end?

  Click the link or enter it into your browser

  http://bridgetbarton.com/eliza

  (Turn the page to read “A Soulmate for the Heartbroken Duke”, my Amazon Best-Selling novel!)

  A Soulmate for the Heartbroken Duke

  Introduction

  When Lord Thomas Carlton, second son of the Duke of Shawcross, decides one fateful afternoon in his youth to befriend the beautiful Lady Catherine Ambrose, he could never conceive of the events that would follow. Tired of his father's bullying and arrogance, he thinks he will amuse himself by making a friend of the daughter of the Duke's bitterest enemy; The Earl of Barford. Little did he know how he would fall in love with Lady Catherine and let loose a chain of events that could seemingly be stopped by nothing and nobody.

  Lady Catherine Ambrose, daughter of the Earl of Barford, knew what it was to grow up in a household where little was thought of a young woman. Her father was more concerned with his bitter feud with the Duke of Shawcross than the welfare of his offspring. When Thomas Carlton first speaks with her at a summer ball, Catherine thinks him daring and amusing, not to mention handsome. But, within a short space of time, she finds herself hopelessly in love with him. A love that would never, ever fade.

  When the two are discovered and parted by their families, Catherine finds herself adrift in a world she does not know, a place so far from home. But will she find peace there? And can her new family help her through the most shocking event of her life? And, when all is settled, can the two young lovers finally make their way back to each other and live in the love that should have been theirs all along?

  Chapter 1

  Lady Catherine Ambrose, having had high hopes for a pleasant evening, realized that it was not going to come to pass. Her father, the Earl of Barford, was in a more than usual state of agitation, given that he and his oldest enemy had found themselves attending the same dance.

  The setting was too large and well attended for the evening to be considered intimate, and too small for the event to be described as a ball. All in all, the term dance would have to suffice.

  “A ball is one thing,” her father said in his bellicose manner. “I can ignore the damned fellow at a ball. But this is too small. I have a mind to leave.”

  “We could leave if you would prefer it, Father,” Philip Ambrose, Catherine’s brother, said in the sort of coaxing voice one might use on an angry bear. “Shall I have the carriage brought round?”

  “No, damn you!” The Earl looked furious and responded in a voice that was certainly loud enough to be heard over the music and the chatter of the evening.

  Philip looked crestfallen and, Catherine realized, a little humiliated. As far as she was concerned, her brother did not deserve to feel either one of those things, and it gave Catherine pain to see it. In the end, Philip just gave a brief, respectful nod and turned away a little, clearly determined to let his father carry on with his vile mood in his own way and without assistance.

  Being in a vile mood was a lifelong state of being for Oscar Ambrose, and Catherine could not remember a time when he was any different. And that was just his day to day existence; when his bitterest enemy was added into the equation, his mood grew fouler still.

  Catherine wondered briefly why it was when the animus between the Earl of Barford and the Duke of Shawcross was so widely known, that Lord Vinton had chosen to invite them both to a smaller gathering. The whole thing was as a red rag to a bull where her father was concerned, and she had little doubt that the Duke of Shawcross was similarly affected.

  But then, Lord Vinton should not really have to dwell on such things; it was down to two grown men to behave better, not down to a whole county to carefully choreograph every social occasion so that the men did not have to stand within a few yards of one another.

  Catherine liked Lord Vinton. He was a kindly old baron who probably thought the Earl and the Duke should bury the hatchet, and he was welcoming to all who crossed his threshold.

  His country mansion was neither small nor large, and the room they were in for the food and dancing was too big to be a drawing room and too small to be a ballroom. But Catherine liked it very much. It was a bright room, the wood-paneled walls painted a pale cream, giving it an airy, if not overly spacious, feel.

  There were tables and chairs set around the outer edges of the hall, and enough good food to keep everybody happy.

  Catherine’s father had kept to his feet all night, however, as if to sit down would somehow be to give some advantage or other to Penrose Carlton, the Duke. And for his part, it would seem that the Duke of Shawcross was under the same impression, also choosing to stand, with his eldest son looking as if he was trying to placate his father in the same way as Philip had tried to placate theirs.

  When two of her father’s acquaintances came to join them, Catherine gave a silent sigh of relief. It allowed her to take half a step backward from the group and involve herself in matters of the room without having to concentrate on her father’s conversation.

  Philip, however, was not so blessed, being drawn into it all and shown off by the father who had, not two minutes before, spoken to him as if he were a child or servant.

  But Catherine knew she must take what she could get and so looked all around to satisfy her curiosity over who had turned up to the event, who had fallen into conversation, and who, like her, was just satisfying themselves with a good study of everyone else in the room.

  As she gazed around, Catherine found herself looking right at Thomas Carlton, the Duke’s second son. He appeared to have been scanning the room as she was, and he smiled a little sheepishly when their eyes met.

  He no doubt thought he had been caught out in his secret observations, but no more than she had, so she smiled back. Catherine was careful to make the smile brief, not because she had any argument with Thomas Carlton, but because she did not want her father to see it.

  She allowed her eyes to stray to her father and his sycophantic friends and then back to Thomas Carlton. He was still looking at her when she turned back, and Catherine smiled again by instinct. She knew almost nothing about the young man, except what she could see with her eyes, and certainly had no quarrel with him.

  And he was such a handsome man too, even more so than his older brother. But his older brother was the heir to the Duchy and, whenever she had the luxury of studying that family, Catherine could easily see how Thomas Carlton was of much slimmer consideration to all around them, occupying much the same position in his family as she did in her own.

  The evening progressed well enough, with more of her father’s acquaintances gathering around him, just as the Duke of Shawcross seemed to be attracting his own small following. It was always the same for men of title, and Catherine stifled a laugh when she ridiculously thought that she was glad she was not a man of title herself. Being Lady Catherine was title enough, and one which gave her no power whatsoever.

  “Would you do me the honour, my dear Catherine.” Lord Vinton appeared suddenly and with such a warm smile that Catherine could not refuse.

  “It would be an honour, Sir,” she said with amusing grandeur and was pleased to see Lord Vinton appreciated her gentle humour.

  They made their way to join the rest of the dancers, lined up with the finely dressed ladies and gentlemen, and respectfully bowed at one another before the
dancing finally began.

  As Catherine made her first turn, she saw Thomas Carlton just two spaces away, dancing with Lord Vinton’s ageing sister, Ariadne. She caught his eye again and, just as before, he smiled at her. She returned his smile before completing her turn and facing away from him.

  With a show of the vigilance that was a habit with her, Catherine darted a quick look over to her father to be sure he had not seen the tiny smile that he would have viewed as a huge betrayal.

  Mercifully, Lord Vinton chattered his way happily through the entire dance, taking her mind off her father, and her eyes off the handsome Thomas Carlton.

  And he really was handsome in a very distinctive way. Thomas Carlton was not a classically appealing man. His hair was more red than brown, and his eyes were not the startling blue of romance novels, nor the dark, inky pools of poetry. Instead, they were the palest blue, the colour of the sky on a day when the sun was so weak it barely shone; the very palest sky blue.

  His face was handsome in a way many might easily dismiss. It was a clever, knowing face, with angles and furrows, not the symmetrical face of the sort of handsome hero who was, in her opinion, all too prevalent these days.

  There was something about Thomas Carlton, something almost mesmerising. But it was something that she had determined to ignore or at least only study from afar for the sake of her own curiosity. They certainly could never be friends, so what did it matter if she found him unusual and most pleasing to look at?

  When the dancing had finished, Catherine returned to her party, joining Philip, who had made his way to the edge of things.

  “You danced very well, Catherine.” Philip smiled genuinely.

  “Thank you. I do so like Lord Vinton.”

  “He is a kindly sort of a chap. I like him too.” Philip nodded, his young face so handsome and bright; his features as open as his father’s were closed.

  “I see we are to stand for the entire evening,” Catherine said with a shrug, looking vaguely towards their father and the men who had surrounded him.

  “Well, if the Duke stands, Father will stand,” Philip smirked. “It is all so ridiculous.”

  “It is. But I am glad to see you finding a little respite from the crowd. I do not envy you your responsibilities, Philip.”

  “Thank you.” He squeezed her hand briefly. “Oh, for a night where the party might simply be enjoyed for its own sake!” He laughed amiably, but Catherine felt for him all the same.

  “Could you not ask a young lady to dance? Surely there would be no harm in that?”

  “I would like to, but you know how father likes to direct that sort of thing. If he saw me dancing with a woman of my own choosing, he would declare her a title hunter and me a fool for not having sought his advice in the first place.”

  “I know that is true,” she said sadly. “We lead such lives of oppression, do we not?”

  “We do,” Philip said with an almost inappropriate brightness. “Although you might stave off that oppression for a few minutes, for I have just spied Emily Barton drifting out of the room. Look,” he said and nodded to the young woman’s departing back. “You wanted to speak to her about this week’s bridge, did you not?”

  “Oh yes, I did,” Catherine said with purpose. “I wonder if I would be missed.”

  “Probably not.” Philip laughed. “But if you are, I shall explain your absence.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Go, or you might miss her.”

  Catherine hurried through the crowd with a fixed, polite smile. She was careful not to make eye contact with anybody, lest she be drawn into some conversation or other and miss the chance to speak to Emily Barton at all.

  But, despite her best efforts, by the time Catherine had made her way out of the room, Emily was nowhere to be seen.

  Catherine looked up and down the corridor, wondering if Emily had headed in the direction of the entrance hall to leave, or towards the other end of the house where she might find some way outside for a few minutes’ air.

  Thinking it too early for Emily to be leaving, Catherine decided upon the second option and headed further along the west corridor. All was quiet, and she listened for any sound of Emily’s footsteps in the distance.

  But the mansion was so full of sounds that she soon gave up careful listening as an impossible idea and trudged onward.

  “Are you trying to escape, Lady Catherine?” Catherine gasped and wheeled sharply around to see none other than Thomas Carlton standing behind her.

  “No, I … well …” she stammered, unsure how to proceed. “I was actually looking for Emily Barton, Lord Thomas.”

  “Then I am afraid to report that you have missed her. I heard her making hasty goodbyes to Lord Vinton before leaving.”

  “Oh dear. And I do so want to speak to her about the bridge,” Catherine said, trying to think how she should maintain normal conversation with a young man she was certain she ought to look upon as her enemy if only to be loyal to her own family.

  “Forgive me, but was it to enquire if her new bridge afternoon was to begin this week? For if that was your question, I might be able to help.”

  “Yes, that was my question. I have been looking forward to it but was unsure of the date for the first of the meetings.”

  “Then I can tell you it is next Wednesday afternoon at one o’clock. I believe Miss Barton will be sending around hasty invites over the next couple of days. In her excitement, I am told she had forgotten to do so before. It has caused a great deal of confusion and excitement, which is apt because a game of bridge always leaves me rather confused and occasionally excited.” He grinned at her, the skin around his pale blue eyes wrinkling pleasingly as he did so.

  “I am no great player myself.” She laughed. “If that is any consolation at all?”

  “It most certainly is. I shall not feel so unique on Wednesday afternoon.”

  “Oh, are you to attend?” she said, feeling pleased and perturbed all at once.

  “I am.” He smiled brightly. “And you look uncertain about it all. Perhaps you would enjoy the afternoon better if I did not go?”

  “You may go wherever you choose, Lord Thomas. Please do not think I would see you barred from any event, Sir.” She smiled weakly.

  He really was such a pleasant young man, and he always had been. Whilst they had never spoken for as long as they were at that moment, whenever their paths had crossed in the past, Thomas Carlton had always acknowledged her politely, no hint of sarcasm or thinly veiled malice.

  “Forgive me.” He bowed. “I am sure you would not. I suppose I am alluding to the strain which exists between our two families. But then, neither one of us can do anything about that, and so I should not have alluded to it at all.”

  “Please, I am not insulted,” she said and relaxed for long enough to smile at him warmly. “And it is hard not to allude to something that taints evenings such as this one.” She looked back towards the hall. “Evenings that should be relaxed into and enjoyed without wondering who will give in and sit down first.”

  “Oh, you perceived the same as I did.” His laughter, when it came, sounded like relief. “I cannot claim to understand it all, but I must admit myself glad that I do not seem to be the only one.”

  “You are not the only one.” She nodded and laughed also.

  “Perhaps it is the lot in life for the second born? To have just enough freedom from expectation to be able to observe whilst remaining unobserved oneself.”

  “You put that very well, Lord Thomas, and I already agreed before you had spoken.”

  “Well, perhaps there has been something to enjoy in this evening after all. Brief, perhaps, but enjoyable nonetheless.”