Love Stories of Enchanting Ladies: A Historical Regency Romance Collection

by Bridget Barton

  “Mary I danced with him. He was so charming. So polite. No wonder such nasty looks were directed at us. I thought I was imagining it. Too much ratafia I supposed. He was every bit a ... a gentleman with me.” Phoebe looked down into her lap.

  She feared she must never speak to Lord Robert again. “But Mary, you say you don’t believe the story?”

  “No, My Lady, I do not.”

  “Then why does everyone else believe it?”

  “Because, My Lady, they trust Lady Judith.”

  “Why does her word carry so much weight?”

  “Lady Judith’s father was a Duke, My Lady. Lord Robert is a second son. They are first cousins, and the families wanted to keep the fortunes together.” Mary looked down, blushing, “At least that’s what people are saying.

  “And she’s found a better offer? Do you think that’s why she made up a story to rid herself of Lord Robert?”

  “Who was she with at the ball, My Lady?”

  “Oh la! There were so many people there. What was his name? Ah! Marquess Hempstead.”

  “Oh dear.” Mary’s eyes were wide.

  “What, Mary?” Lady Phoebe’s curiosity was getting the better of her.

  “Marquess Hempstead is Lord Robert’s brother, My Lady.”

  Chapter 2

  Lord Robert had been at Hempstead Hall for five days. He sat by the fireplace in his bedchamber having coffee and reading the newspaper. Terence, ever the thoughtful valet, had gone into the village to obtain the paper.

  A heavy rap sounded on the door. Robert set the paper down and smoothed his hair back.

  “Yes?”

  Terence entered the room. He carried a small gold tray with a black bordered letter resting on it. The seal of black wax was imprinted with the Atwater Crest. Lord Robert severed the seal with his breakfast knife and opened the page, smoothing it out on top of the paper on the small table. He began to read and as he did so, his face grew deathly pale.

  “What is it My Lord?” Terence went to his master’s side.

  “My father …” Lord Robert’s head lolled against the back of the chair, eyes closed. “My father and my brother.”

  “My Lord?”

  “Terence ... they’re dead, taken by the typhus. I had no knowledge that they were ill, they both were fine at the ball the other night.”

  “Dear God. We must get back to Regent Street straightaway, My Lord. I’ll have a bath prepared for you and lay out your attire. Please accept my condolences, Your Grace.”

  Robert’s eyes opened wide. Your Grace. He was suddenly aware of the fact that he was Lord Robert no longer. And he was alone. After the scandal caused by Lady Judith’s rumour, his father and brother had stopped speaking to him, and he hadn’t had an opportunity to make things right with them. His Grace, Lord Robert Weston, the 2nd Duke of Atwater dropped his head into his hands and wept.

  ********

  Lady Judith Bennington was frantically trying to make a mourning bonnet look attractive. The flat black bombazine frock she wore did nothing for her red haired colouring.

  “Thank goodness this is only for two weeks.” Judith stuck her tongue out at her reflection in the glass and tossed the bonnet aside. Her thoughts, since having heard of the deaths of Atwater and Hempstead, had been entirely on Lord Robert, now Duke Atwater, and looking as attractive as she could to him. She had much work to do.

  She realized she’d seriously damaged her relationship with Robert, but she also knew there had to be a way to get him back. He’d be vulnerable for a while with grieving and adjusting to a life he hadn’t been trained for. It was just the place she needed him to be.

  Unprotected and defenseless to her schemings. Judith looked at her image in the glass again and smiled to herself. “You have soft shoulders to cry on. You can comfort him,” she winked.

  The door opened, and the maid entered with a note for her. It was from the new Duke Atwater informing her that he would call at three o’clock that afternoon. She looked at her watch on the vanity. It was half past the hour of one.

  She had time to eat a little something before receiving the Duke. This would be an important meeting. Lady Judith pinched her cheeks to give them colour and wished she could wear her new pale green silk.

  “Emma,” Judith called to the maid.

  “Yes, My Lady?”

  “See the Duke up to my private sitting room when he arrives, will you?”

  “Of course, My Lady.”

  “Thank you.” She looked at herself in the glass once more then stood and went to the chaise by the window. She would devise a new plan while she rested. There was no other recourse. She needed to make Robert fall for her. Again. She looked out the window at the clouds slowly drifting in the sky as she formulated her next move. In a moment, it seemed, she was startled by Emma entering the room. “My Lady! Wake up! You must have fallen asleep.”

  “La! What is all that commotion?” Lady Judith, a little disoriented from her nap, looked around the room.

  “Why, it’s the new Duke, My Lady.”

  “The new Duke?” Judith bolted upright. “The Duke ... oh, quickly Emma. Fix my curls. And the jet ear bobs. Where are they? I look frightful. Did you tell him he was meeting me here, in my sitting room?”

  “Not yet, My Lady.”

  “Don’t! Is he in the drawing room?”

  “Yes, My Lady.”

  “Very good. Leave him there. We are cousins commiserating over the deaths of family members.”

  “Pardon me, My Lady?”

  “Nothing. Nothing. Help me with my shoes, Emma. We mustn’t keep the Duke waiting.”

  Lady Judith was soon out of the room. She ran down the first flight of steps then composed herself, smoothing her chignon and smiling at the recollection of how many times she’d been told by men that she had a lovely neck. She continued down the stairs in a decorous manner and made her way to the drawing room.

  The Duke was standing by the window gazing out at the square when she opened the door. He turned.

  “Your Grace,” Lady Judith sunk into a deep curtsy.

  “Come, there’s no need of that, cousin.”

  “As you wish, Your Grace.” Judith sat down, demurely, on the edge of the sofa, hands folded in her lap.

  “When did it happen?”

  Lady Judith reminded herself that this visit was not directly related to her securing the Duke’s attentions. She needed to, at least, act grief stricken.

  “Your blessed father and dear brother expired within hours of each other during the night. I got word at two this morning and immediately sent word to Hempstead. I’m glad you were able to come so quickly.”

  Atwater chewed his lip as she spoke. “Yes, well I couldn’t very well stay in the country. Did you know they were ill? I could have been here sooner if I’d known.”

  Lady Judith stood up, ignoring his question, and crossed the room swiftly. “Oh my poor, poor Robert.” She threw her arms around his neck and rested her head on his hard shoulder.

  She looked up at him, her face inches from his, and his eyes were cold. Judith felt a chill go through her. Was it possible he noticed a difference in her?

  Her eyes, not the deep, clear green of a girl, but a mysterious mixture of dark green and brown flecks. Luminous, but a little brighter than they should be? As he had the first day after she’d come back, he again seemed to study her face. Searching.

  “What is it, Your Grace?”

  “We’re alone, Judith. You may call me Robert.”

  “Why yes, of course, Robert.” She went back to her seat on the sofa.

  Atwater went to the mantle and steadied himself against it. Judith watched his back as he stood in front of the writhing of the flames in the fireplace. He turned around to face her and began to speak.

  “As you know this house is yours. Your father had no heir. He, long ago, sold the country estate to handle his gambling debts. I know this because I was his lawyer, Judith. Now, we’ll be looking at my father’s a
nd brother’s wills today. That is my partner, Tom Radcliffe and me. My father had me alter his will after you came back from your travels. Since your mother had succumbed, my father set you up with an allowance, a very generous allowance so that you may live comfortably and bring something substantial to the table as a potential marriage partner. Should the opportunity present itself.”

  Lady Judith nodded and looked down to hide the smile playing on her lips. This was better than she’d expected. It gave her more time to seduce Atwater as well as alleviating her worries about her own survival.

  “That is all. I’ll be at Regent Street if you need anything.” Atwater bowed and exited the room.

  *******

  Lady Phoebe was walking to church. It was the only time when she was in London that she was able to be alone. Otherwise, she was constantly chaperoned. She felt smothered by it.

  As her mind mulled over thoughts of this nature, a carriage clattered by at such breakneck speed she was forced to jump to the side or risk being hit. It was a plain black carriage that seemed, somehow, familiar to her. “La, I’ve never seen someone drive so poorly. They must be in their cups. On their way home from the club, no doubt.”

  She approached the church. Groups of individuals stood outside talking in hushed tones. Phoebe waved here and there to friends and acquaintances then made her way inside the cool, dim interior and sat in a pew towards the back of the structure. The two women next to her were having a whispered conversation. Phoebe tried to pay them no mind, but the hissing, and low grumble of laughter would not let her ears rest.

  “... practically disowned. I hear he’s been in the country this last month. The old Duke and the Marquess wanted nothing to do with him.”

  “He’s brought shame on himself. He’s brought shame to his family.”

  “And the poor lady. To abandon her the way he did.”

  “To think he’s one of the best catches now.”

  The peahens were willing to overlook Lord Robert’s alleged transgression if it meant one of their own daughters might become a Duchess.

  The pastor walked down the aisle to the front of the church. He mounted the few steps to the altar and began the service.

  Lady Phoebe had all she could do to keep awake during the sermon. What was the pastor going on about? ‘The wise will inherit honour, but fools display dishonour.’ She shifted in her seat willing the service to be over.

  The service went on, and as the pastor spoke, Phoebe noticed members of the congregation looking at each other and nodding. Clearly, she was missing something. And she intended to find out what it was.

  *******

  Three days later, Lady Phoebe was preparing for the private ball at Almack’s. The new Duke of Atwater was being honoured although how the lady patronesses assented to it was the mystery on everyone’s tongue.

  Duke Atwater was none other than the man who had so unceremoniously left his betrothed, practically at the altar. Lord Robert Weston. Phoebe had been hearing about Lady Judith and Lord Robert for weeks. The realization that the man on the bridge and Atwater were one and the same alleviated some of her confusion surrounding the situation.

  The sordid stories about Atwater had been the longest standing gossip Phoebe had ever been privy to. As a result, she’d decided that the entire mess must be worse than she could know. How much worse could it possibly be? Apparently, there was no child involved ... which Phoebe thought was a blessing indeed. But, she supposed the mess must have detracted from his family name. Still ... Lord Robert had been so charming and gallant when she’d met and danced with him. Her first impressions, until now, had always been true. Atwater, it seemed, had eluded her sense of intuition.

  “My Lady, Lord Thomas is in the sitting room.” Mary entered the bedchamber looking sombre.

  “Thank you Mary.” Lady Phoebe looked closely at her maid. “Is anything wrong?”

  “I … I’m sorry, My Lady. Pardon me.”

  “I asked you if there’s anything wrong, Mary. You look pale.” Phoebe placed the back of her hand against the maid’s cheek. “Just as I thought. A little warm.”

  Mary smiled wanly, “I’m fine My Lady.”

  “La! Tell me what is going on? Please! Mary, you’ve been running yourself into the ground. You need rest. If I didn’t absolutely have to be at this engagement tonight, I should stay here and care for you myself.”

  “No, My Lady. It’s nothing.”

  “It is not nothing. Tell me what it is. Maybe I can help.”

  “It doesn’t matter, My Lady.”

  Phoebe patted the sofa next to where she sat. “Tell me.”

  *******

  Six hours later, Lady Phoebe was dancing with yet another dandy. In her teal blue silk, her skin glowed, and her eyes resembled soft blue lights. Her flaxen hair was piled up in a loose top bun and curled at the sides, in the latest style. She didn’t lack for male attention, and talking about the latest style of hat brim or the state of the weather grew tiresome after two dances. She glanced around, hoping to find a way to escape yet another conversation about the subtle differences in the mathematical or American fold for cravats.

  She spied Lady Judith across the ballroom, and when the dance was finished, she thanked her partner and excused herself, hurrying over to where Judith stood.

  “Lady Phoebe.” Lady Judith waved with her fan. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  “You flatter me, Lady Judith. The pleasure is all mine.” Phoebe smiled. Judith looked lovely, albeit sombre in a black silk frock. It wasn’t the best colour for her complexion, but Judith could make up for any lack with her surplus of charm.

  “So has my cousin arrived?”

  “Your cousin?”

  “Yes, the Duke of Atwater. Is he here?”

  “I’ve heard no announcement.” Lady Phoebe hadn’t known Lady Judith was related to the new Duke. It was another confusing tidbit to add to the soup of the story about the two of them.

  Suddenly the room hushed. “Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present Lord Robert Weston, His Grace, the Duke of Atwater.

  There was a polite dusting of applause. The Duke’s eyes scanned the room, found Phoebe’s and locked there. Against her will she tore her gaze from his. She placed her hand on her heart believing she could stop the pounding she was sure everyone could hear.

  It was him. It was said he was a cad or worse. She searched in her tiny reticule for her smelling bottle. It wouldn’t do for her to faint.

  Lord Thomas came up beside her, waving at the Duke to join them.

  “What are you doing?” Phoebe hissed under her breath. She snapped her fan open and pointed to the woman on the other side of it whispering, “Judith.”

  “They’re going to have to speak sooner or later, Phoebe.”

  “I daresay she’ll never speak to him again. What woman in her right mind would after what he did? I’ve heard some bits of the gossip. It’s quite disenchanting.”

  Judith had been speaking with a gentleman and turned back to Phoebe and Tom. “Will you two excuse me? I need to, to get some air. I’ll be back in a minute.”