Love Stories of Enchanting Ladies: A Historical Regency Romance Collection

by Bridget Barton

  She saw Thomas disappear through a door at the top of the corridor and, when he did not reappear within seconds, she knew that the Duke must surely be in there.

  “Is everything alright, My Lady?” the maid said nervously when she returned holding a small tray with a glass of milk on it for Henry and a small sherry on it for Catherine.

  “Oh yes, perfectly alright, thank you,” Catherine said with a smile and returned to the library and sat down next to Henry at a large round table.

  Catherine took a few sips of her sherry and smiled at the maid.

  “My dear, we will be perfectly alright in here. You need not wait with us, really.”

  “Very well, My Lady,” the young woman said and curtsied before turning to leave.

  “What is Lord Carlton doing?” Henry said in that absent way of a child who is already concentrating fully on his new surroundings.

  “He is just having a few words with his father, Henry. And after that, you will get to meet his father for a moment, but not for long. You need only say hello to him, and then we shall have a look at the trees, just as Thomas said. And he is a Duke, so you must call him Your Grace.”

  “May I have a look at one of the books?” Henry said as he twisted in his seat and stared at so many. “There are more books here than there are at Ivy Manor.”

  “I know, a great many more. Let me see if I can find something that you might like.” Catherine quickly scanned the first few shelves and was very pleased when she alighted upon natural history.

  She removed one and opened it, quickly leafing through the pages until she found some neatly sketched dinosaurs.

  “Here, how about this one?” She laid it open in front of him on the table, and he peered closely at it, seeming to be immediately absorbed.

  “Oh yes,” he said quietly.

  “Henry, I am going to leave you here for a moment reading your book. I just need to have a quick word with Thomas, will you be alright?”

  “Oh yes,” he said, giving every impression that he had hardly heard her.

  “And you must be careful with your milk, Henry. Take care that you do not splash any of it onto the book, alright?”

  “Yes, Aunt Catherine,” he said and did not even look up at her.

  Catherine, gathering that she would only be gone a matter of minutes, pulled the library door closed behind her and scampered off along the corridor as quietly as she could. When she arrived at the doorway she had seen Thomas disappear through, she realized that the door was very slightly ajar.

  She could hear raised voices through it with ease and held her breath, listening intently for any movement which suggested somebody leaving the room. She was ready to turn and run at the slightest indication.

  “What are you telling me?” Catherine thought it strange that although she had not spent any real time in the Duke of Shawcross’ company, still she knew his arrogant, acidic tones.

  “For goodness sake, I would have thought that it was a simple enough deduction, Father,” Thomas said, and Catherine was amazed by the steel in his voice. She had always known that he had courage and confidence, but it had always come along with a certain amount of amusement; humour. This time there was no humour; this was the voice of a man, a man who was determined to have the truth said. “When Catherine was exiled from Hertfordshire, unbeknownst to the both of us, she was with child. My child. I knew nothing of this all these years because, between you, you and the Earl of Barford saw to it that we could never find a way to communicate. But now that I know my son, now that I have met him, I will not be parted from him again. And I will not be parted from Catherine either, Father, because I love her. I do not care that you think such feelings ridiculous, for you are not me, and I am not you.”

  “She still has the child with her?” The Duke sounded incredulous.

  “Yes, Catherine has more courage than anybody I know. She refused to let him go into an orphanage and the Topwells, the family with whom she stayed, helped her to be able to keep him.”

  “Then they must be pariahs in Derbyshire to allow such a situation under their roof.”

  “Is that all that matters to you, Father? And they are not pariahs because even the child himself does not know that Catherine is his mother. And you will not tell it to him either or I will make you sorry for it.”

  “And why would I tell it to him?”

  “Because you are to meet him in a few moments, Father. Only for long enough to say good evening, and that is it.”

  “Then what is the point of it?”

  “The point of it is I want you to see what you have lost. Finally, I want you to see where this dreadful, destructive feud has brought you. I want you to realize that you will be a man alone, silently waiting to die so that he might hand over his beloved duchy to a distant relative. I want you to look at my son with your own eyes and know that he is not only descended from you, but he is descended from the Earl of Barford. I want you to realize that if you continue this feud … if you pass it on to whomever the Duchy finally resides with, then you will not just be hurting Ambrose blood, you will be hurting Carlton blood. That is all I want. I want you to look upon him and remember his face. I want you to know that you would be hurting your own grandson if you continue in this futility.”

  “This all seems to be rather unreal somehow. I can hardly imagine that any of this is true, and yet I can see from your look that it is.” Catherine listened with interest as she heard the fire and anger seem to evaporate from the Duke’s voice. “But you have put this upon me so suddenly, have you not? Without warning, I have a grandson.”

  “And without warning, Sir, I had a son.”

  “Yes.”

  “And the reason it all came without warning was because you and Oscar Ambrose could not reconcile differences that were not even your own. Had you grown out of such childishness when you were much younger men, Catherine and I would not have had to suffer as we have suffered these last eight years. Henry would not have thought himself to be an orphan all his young life. And Pierce would not have had to die, for he might well not have spent so much of his life trying to please you and gain your approval that he betrayed me to do it.”

  “What on earth do you mean?” The Duke hardly sounded like himself, and Catherine could feel her throat tightening with emotion.

  “Pierce betrayed me to gain your approval, just as I said. But when he saw the devastation it wreaked on my life and Catherine’s, he began to feel guilty. And not only that, but he recognized the futility when he saw that he could never gain your approval. From that moment on, he tried to atone for what he had done, but I was so hurt and so angry that I would not let him. I missed Catherine so much that I felt as if my heart had been ripped from my chest. How could I forgive him for what he had done? And then, when he could stand it no more, when I had turned my back on him one last time, Pierce chased me through the fields and that, Father, is how he came to be killed. So, can you not see the chain of events? The chain of events which link us back through time to your own father and Oscar Ambrose’s father? Imagine if things had been stopped then, would Pierce still be alive now?”

  “You have never mentioned this before,” the Duke said and sounded oddly broken.

  “Because I had never seen the point in telling you before. You have never listened; you have only shouted and ordered and directed. You are never quiet for long enough to hear another person speak.”

  “Yes,” he said, and Catherine realized that she was listening to a man finally coming to terms with the consequences of his actions.

  “Catherine and I should have been married years ago, and Henry would have been born within wedlock and known us both to be his parents. That is what you have taken from us, you and Oscar Ambrose. I do not confront you with the truth of Pierce’s death simply to hurt you, Father. I am beyond such simple and pointless acts of vengeance now. I just want you to understand the devastation that is caused by the refusal to let go of past injustices, old arguments that should
have died a generation ago. And when you come to that conclusion, I want you to be looking at your grandson’s face.”

  “He is here?”

  “He is here, Father. I will fetch him now, and you may say no more than good evening to him. He is not to find out on this night anything of his origins, do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  Catherine could hardly believe that she had witnessed roles reversing. It was not the Duke giving out orders now, but Thomas. And yet she knew that Thomas was doing so out of the highest intentions, and she could not imagine loving him more.

  When Thomas walked out of the room, Catherine did nothing to hide herself. She just silently walked into his arms and clung tightly to him for a moment. She kissed his cheek, took his hand, and led him back towards the library so that they might collect Henry together.

  “I will come in with you, Thomas,” she said firmly. “I will come into the room with you and Henry, and I will not have it any other way.”

  “Of course.”

  “Henry? Do you like that book?” Thomas said in a much more cheerful tone of voice.

  “Yes, very much.” Henry turned in his seat to look at the new acquaintance he had already come to admire.

  “Then you may keep it. You may take it home with you.”

  “What do you say, Henry?” Catherine said by instinct, always keen that Henry should have good manners.

  “Thank you very much, Lord Carlton,” Henry said neatly.

  “Now then, might I very quickly introduce you to my father before we set off to have a look at the trees?” Thomas reached out for Henry’s hand.

  “Yes, of course.” Henry closed his book and tucked it under his arm before taking Thomas’ hand.

  Catherine walked along behind them as they made their way back along the corridor. Side-by-side, it was clear that Henry was simply a smaller version of his father. He had his father’s languid way of walking, and there was not a shade to choose between their red-brown hair.

  Thomas pushed open the door and walked Henry in. Catherine walked in behind them, and the Duke immediately looked at her. She held her breath for a moment, fully expecting him to regain his old animosity and let fly at her, but he did not. He simply nodded his head and looked down at his grandson.

  “Father, this is Henry Topwell. He has come to meet you.”

  “Hello, Henry.”

  “Hello, Your Grace,” Henry said, bursting with boyish confidence despite the formality of his address.

  “Goodness me, I do not think you need to address me quite so formally.” The Duke crouched down so that he was on a level with Henry, and Catherine was amazed to see that his eyes were shining with tears.

  “Aunt Catherine told me that that was how I must address you, Your Grace. You are the Duke, you know.” Henry grinned broadly and showed no sign that he was at all uncomfortable in the old Duke’s presence.

  And, for his part, the Duke of Shawcross threw his head back and laughed.

  “Quite so, my dear Henry.”

  Epilogue

  Catherine could never have imagined that life at Shawcross Hall would be as easy and as uncomplicated as it turned out to be. It was as if Henry, completely unwittingly, had been the only person who had the power not only to thaw-out a belligerent old man but to entirely dissolve a feud which had begun almost a century before.

  Just as promised, Thomas had kept the meeting between his father and his son brief, not wanting to linger any longer than was necessary, lest Henry realize that all was not as simple as it appeared.

  Assuming himself to be disowned, just as his father had told him he would be, Thomas was consoled with the idea that he had finally ended the feud and that his son would never suffer on account of it.

  The following morning, however, the Duke of Shawcross arrived at Barford Hall in his carriage and walked up to the front door of that grand building for the first time in his life.

  He was first taken to Philip Ambrose, the Earl of Barford, where he was greeted with polite warmth and made welcome.

  With his respects paid to the head of the household, the Duke of Shawcross was taken to the morning room where his son was having tea with Catherine Ambrose.

  Begging Catherine to stay, the Duke told them of his intention to pass the Duchy to its rightful heir, Thomas Carlton when the time came. And, in terms more human than Thomas could ever have imagined, the old Duke expressed a wish that Thomas, Catherine, and his new grandson reside at Shawcross Hall as soon as they were married.

  Catherine had had the greatest of misgivings, but she had kept them to herself largely. Thomas had been prepared to give up everything for her and Henry and had done everything in his power to end the feud. The least she could do in return was allow him his heritage and his inheritance.

  After a quiet wedding, they had moved into Shawcross Hall with Henry. The Duke had understood fully that it would take time before they could tell Henry everything, that they wanted him to get used to things by stages.

  They took him every week to see Philip at Barford Hall, and Uncle Charles and Aunt Celia still played a vital part in his life, as they always had and always would.

  Catherine had been determined that they would continue to spend time in Derbyshire at Ivy Manor, not to mention the fact that Charles and Celia spent a good deal of time at Barford Hall with Philip.

  Catherine explained to the Duke that Henry had been raised by a collection of people who had cared for him greatly, and she did not want to see that end. As far as she was concerned, that would not change, and the Duke was more than welcome to join that collection of people and help raise a fine young man if that was his pleasure.

  By letting go of the past, Catherine had found a tentative peace in her relationship with the Duke of Shawcross. Penrose Carlton had certainly been mellowed by his discovery of a grandson, and Catherine knew that she would have to forgive the man in order for everything to truly be changed in the way that Thomas had wanted.

  When they had been married for some months, Catherine and Thomas decided the time had come for them to finally explain Henry’s origins to him fully. They had taken him to Barford Hall so that Charles and Celia might be there to help with it all.

  “Uncle Charles, are we to go fishing today? It is a fine day, and I am sure that Uncle Philip would not mind if we did,” Henry said excitedly when he ran into the drawing room of Barford Hall and flung himself at Charles Topwell.

  “Yes, I think we can go fishing today,” Charles said as he scooped the boy into his arms and gave him a thoroughly hard squeeze. “But we do have something to talk about today, young man. We have all sorts of things to tell you, you see, and you might feel a little bit knocked sideways by it all. But if you do still want to go fishing at the end of it, I shall come with you.”

  Catherine smiled at her uncle, grateful that he had already decided to introduce the idea of a rather deep and revealing discussion. She took a deep breath before speaking and felt Celia at her side, there as always to help her.

  “Uncle Charles is right, Henry, we do have rather a lot of things to tell you today,” Catherine began nervously. “And the thing is, there are all sorts of things you do not know, things which you ought to know now. You might find yourself a little upset by some of it, and you might be a little angry at times. Whatever you feel is right, my dear. You need not hide anything, and if you want to cry or shout, you may do just that, do you understand?”

  “Yes, Aunt Catherine. But what is it? What is so bad that I am going to be so angry?” Henry clambered up onto the couch next to Charles. Catherine sat at his side, and Thomas sat in an armchair opposite.

  “Well, you know that Thomas and I are now married, do you not?”