by Amy Lake
Their lives were entwined, and he would always care deeply for her. As a friend. But she was not in love with him either, of that Lord Winthrop was sure. And he could never make her content as a husband. Did he want that? Did he want to hurt her out of his own pride, or some concern for Society’s good opinion?
Society, thought Geoffrey. Pah.
All this went through his mind in the space of a few seconds, as Lord Blakeley took the shawl from Elizabeth’s shoulders. Overcome with emotion, enormously grateful that she had not been injured, or worse, on the road to Ardres and feeling close to tears, Lord Winthrop moved forward to embrace Miss Asherwood. Then, not yet really noticing the younger girl, he addressed Lord Blakeley.
“I’d like to talk to Elizabeth for a moment,” said Geoffrey. “In private.”
The man nodded. Something flickered in his eyes, and Lord Winthrop suspected that he knew exactly what it was.
“Geoffrey—” began Miss Asherwood.
“Do you wish to marry me?” he interrupted her. His world teetered on the edge as she looked up at him.
Elizabeth bit her lip. “No,” she said, with tears in her eyes.
They stared at each other in silence.
“Do you love him?”
They both knew whom Geoffrey meant.
“Yes.”
“Ah.” Happiness began to bubble within him, and he was hard pressed not to laugh.
“I’m sorry,” said Miss Asherwood, “I should have said something before, but—”
“Oh, my dear, do not worry.”
“It was terribly wrong of me.”
Lord Winthrop chuckled. “Because as we all know, the ton sets such store by honesty.”
That earned him a small smile.
Then suddenly— “Do you wish to marry me?” asked Elizabeth.
Ah. Lord Winthrop smiled. “No.”
She looked up at him in hope. “No?”
“No.”
She began to cry in earnest, and Geoffrey knew that it was with relief. He longed to tell Miss Asherwood—his friend—about Miss Forbes-Treffy, but judged that this was perhaps not the time.
“I’m so sorry,” she said again.
He shook his head and they embraced, both now in tears.
“Do not be,” said Lord Winthrop. “I am happy for you. And you will be happy for me.”
* * * *
Peregrine could not hear what was said between the two, but he could see it all too well. With a heart full of pain he turned to leave. There were other inns in Calais.
“No,” said Marguerite, putting her small hand on his arm. She smiled up at him with Elizabeth’s eyes. “Wait.”
And then Miss Asherwood was walking toward him, and he noticed, distractedly, that Lord Winthrop had turned to talk to the Berards, and then she was running to him—
And then she had thrown herself into his embrace, and was reaching up on tiptoe to kiss his jaw and his cheek and his nose, and her arms were around his neck, and Peregrine could hear a very French murmur of satisfaction from Marguerite at his side.
“Votre amour vrai,” he thought he heard the girl say. Your true love.
Lord Blakeley managed to disentangle Elizabeth long enough to take a careful look at her face. What he saw there took his breath away.
“Miss Asherwood,” he began.
“Lord Blakeley,” she said, “Lord Winthrop and I have come to a mutual agreement, and I feel I must tell you that I am no longer engaged.”
Then she grinned at him. Marguerite was laughing outright, and Peregrine thought his heart would burst with joy.
“Would you like to be?” he asked Elizabeth, and drew her once again into his arms.
“Yes,” she said. “Oh, yes.”
* * *
Epilogue
The On Dit of the Season
By the time Miss Asherwood returned to London with Marguerite, the ton was full of rumors about the broken engagement. Some reported that Elizabeth had cried off herself— No, no, that Lord Winthrop had—
But neither party seemed the least put out, they both returned immediately to society, and were seen speaking to each other at various events in considerable friendliness. The young woman Miss Asherwood brought with her from France, an illegitimate half-sister, might have been a problem. But Marguerite was soon pronounced lovely and charming, and anyone who might have felt otherwise was corrected through the combined efforts of Lord Blakeley, Lord Winthrop and, to Penelope’s pleased surprise, Henry Perrin, who—as it has been said—knew everyone and had a way with the ladies.
Complicating matters somewhat was Geoffrey’s obvious and newfound interest in Angeline Forbes-Treffy. When Miss Perrin met that young miss for the first time she had to stifle a laugh. As we always suspected, she thought. The smallest blondes, with the biggest breasts. Elizabeth had been the exception.
Then, hardly a week later at the Tarryhouse ball, just when it was beginning to seem that Miss Asherwood’s broken engagement might be the on dit of the season, Adelaide Caldwell behaved so scandalously forward with the Earl of Landon’s middle son, who was supposed to be married to Lord Peterworth’s daughter in little over a month’s time, that Elizabeth, Geoff, and Miss Forbes-Treffy all but disappeared from the rounds of ton gossip. By that time Lord Blakeley had already obtained a special license, and he and Miss Asherwood were married quietly in the small Grosvenor Chapel on South Audley Street, with only Marguerite, Penny and Anthony Dewhurst in attendance. The occasion was one of general rejoicing at Aisling House. Marguerite and his lordship took to having tea with Aunt Philippa, chatting in French, and even Pivens and Mrs. Talliaferro were brought around by Peregrine’s obvious love for their young mistress.
Mr. Peppers was overjoyed.
“I decided,” Lizzie told Miss Perrin afterwards, “that long engagements are entirely overrated.”
“And marriage?” Penny gave her friend a speaking look, and a grin.
Miss Asherwood grinned back. “If you find the right person,” she said, “marriage is perfect.”
About the Author
Amy Lake's interest in British history began with Lady Longford's biography of Queen Victoria, later extending into the Edwardian and Regency periods. She has published three Regency romances, with overlapping characters, of which The Carriagemaker's Daughter is the second.
Amy has a particular interest in the Greek language, and after spending many years teaching herself ancient Greek--because everyone should have an impossible dream--she is now taking periodic trips to Athens to learn the modern language.
In her other life, Amy is an occasional college biology teacher. She lives in Washington state with her husband and two sons.
Also by Amy Lake: The Earl's Wife, The Carriagemaker's Daughter and Lady Pamela.
Publishing Information
Copyright © 2011 by Amy Lake
Electronically published in 2011 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228
http://www.RegencyReads.com
Electronic sales: [email protected]
This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.
