The Mammoth Book of Regency Romance

by Trisha Telep

“Nonsense. I’ll meet you here tomorrow. Make it two o’clock. Bring your horse. We’ll go riding.”

  The more she thought about it, the more she convinced herself she must never again be alone with Robert Carstairs, not if she valued her reputation and, in fact, her entire future. “You don’t understand.”

  “I understand perfectly.” He bowed slightly, his eyes full of mischief. “I value your friendship, Miss Winslow, as I hope you do mine. From now on we shall meet as friends.”

  “Nothing more?” she asked, highly sceptical.

  “Nothing more. I give you my word.”

  Deep in her heart she didn’t believe him, but she could not bear the thought of not seeing him again. “Tomorrow. We’ll go riding – just for a little while, and just as friends.”

  For Julia, the days that followed were the happiest of her life. She and Robert went riding every day, following the beautiful trails that led through the thick bordering woods or along the nearby river. Occasionally they passed Hatfield Manor’s gamekeeper’s lodge where Robert said he was staying.

  “You don’t stay with Charles in the mansion?” she had asked.

  “I told you Charles bores me to distraction,” Robert had replied with a grin. “I prefer to be alone and, besides, my stay is only temporary. I shall be leaving for London soon on business.” He’d feigned a lecherous expression and enquired, “Would you care to visit me in the gamekeeper’s lodge? You’re welcome any time, you know. We would be entirely alone.”

  She’d laughed as he intended, but the very thought of being alone in a secluded place with Robert Carstairs gave her a secret shiver of delight.

  Robert always brought along the makings of a picnic in his saddlebag. Every day they would stop at some beautiful spot along the way to eat and just talk. “Thanks to Charles’ cook we’ve got bread, cheese, fruit and chicken,” he told her the first time they stopped. “And—” he held up a sterling silver hip flask “—a bit of brandy to keep us warm in case a storm should strike.”

  They talked of many things: her art, the buildings he’d designed, the ancient monasteries he’d visited and what he would do to restore them. True to his word, he made no further advances. On the surface she was grateful, yet secretly she yearned for his touch – more each day if that were possible – to the point where she thought she would scream if he mentioned one more time what good “friends” they were.

  But she was well aware the idyllic days she was spending with Robert must soon end. So far she had managed to keep their trysts a secret, but how long could that last? And what did it matter? The two weeks Lord Melton was spending at his hunting lodge were nearly at an end. Soon he would return, ready to hear her answer.

  Late one afternoon when Julia arrived home from a delightful afternoon with Robert, her grandmother summoned her to the drawing room. “Sit down, Julia.” Spying the sketch pad in her granddaughter’s hands, she lifted a sceptical eyebrow. “So you’ve been out sketching the ruins again?”

  Julia immediately caught her meaning. Every time she’d left the mansion to meet with Robert, she’d made a show of bringing along her sketch pad. She hadn’t used it once. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” she began, but her grandmother raised a hand.

  “A rumour has reached my ears that you’ve been out roaming the countryside with Robert Carstairs. Is that right?”

  Julia nodded. She could never lie to her grandmother. “How did you know?”

  “How could I not know? Did you think such a juicy bit of gossip would escape the servants’ notice? Not that I care what you do, but your mother is sure to find out. Soon, I suspect, and you must be prepared. Are you in love with him?”

  Julia was not given to excess, but her grandmother’s abrupt question caused her to burst out, “I adore him, Granny! Robert Carstairs is everything I ever wanted in a man. He’s a talented artist, as well as an architect. He has a love of the old monastic ruins, just as I do. Sometimes we talk about them for hours. We talk about all sorts of things. He’s never boring, he’s—”

  “Slow down, missy,” Granny said with a smile. “My, my, he must be a remarkable man indeed. Have you kissed him?”

  Julia felt a slow blush creep over her cheeks. “Yes, I kissed him, and it was . . . it was . . .”

  “You needn’t go on. I get the point. What about Lord Melton?”

  In the wake of her grandmother’s penetrating question, Julia’s euphoria quickly slipped away. “How can I marry Lord Melton when I have fallen madly in love with his brother?” She shook her head in dismay. “But if I don’t marry him, I’ll break Mother’s heart.”

  “You must make a decision, and soon.”

  “But I’m not sure what to do.”

  “It’s simple. Either you follow your head or you follow your heart. Has Robert Carstairs proposed?”

  “No, but I think he loves me.”

  Granny shook her head in sympathy. “You poor girl, such a dilemma.”

  “I’m meeting Robert tomorrow. Lord Melton returns the day after.” Julia gave her grandmother a rueful smile. “By then I’ll make my decision. If it kills me, I won’t be one of those wishy-washy women who can’t make up their minds.”

  That night Julia lay awake staring into the darkness. Talking to Granny was one thing, but what, in reality, was she going to say to Robert? After all, he had not proposed, nor had he declared his love for her. In fact, since that never-to-be-forgotten kiss that the goat interrupted, he had behaved like a perfect gentleman, truly being nothing more than a friend. Perhaps that was how he thought of her – as just a friend. But if that were true, what were those messages of attraction and passion she had seen deep in his eyes when they talked? Had she been mistaken?

  Perhaps she should cancel tomorrow’s meeting with him, wait for Charles’ return and simply say yes like everyone expected her to do. But no! She had to talk to Robert – find out how he felt about her and damn the consequences, even if she might very well end up making a complete fool of herself.

  The next day, Julia saddled her horse and met Robert at the ruins of Swindon Abbey as usual. Immediately she felt tongue-tied. How was she supposed to find out how Robert felt about her? She couldn’t just ask. That would be much too “unladylike”, as Mama would say and, besides, she would be leaving herself wide open for rejection. What if, God forbid, all he wanted was her friendship? She was still searching for an answer when their ride took them deep into the woods past the gamekeeper’s lodge. An idea glimmered. Perhaps in the more intimate privacy of the lodge, she could find her answer. She reined in her horse. “I do believe I would like to see the inside of the lodge,” she said. “You’ve invited me often enough.”

  “What’s this?” Robert remarked with feigned surprise. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll be ravished the moment you step through the door?”

  She tilted her chin. “I’ll take my chances.”

  When she entered the main hall of the gamekeeper’s lodge, she was struck by how comfortable it was with its oak-beamed ceilings, huge stone fireplace, animal heads mounted on the walls and informal furnishings made of pine.

  She settled on a sofa facing the fireplace. “I can see why you like it here. Where are the servants?”

  He sat next to her and chuckled. “One or two come in from time to time to tidy the place up. Otherwise, I fend for myself. I prefer it that way, rather than staying in that huge monstrosity up the hill.” A rueful expression crossed his face. “Forgive me. As the future mistress of Hatfield Manor, you might be offended by my last remark.”

  “I really don’t care what you call it,” she replied in a deliberately haughty tone. “What makes you so sure I’m going to marry Lord Melton?”

  “Aren’t you supposed to have your answer ready when he returns tomorrow?”

  He had asked the question casually, yet Julia detected an alert gleam in his eye. “My family expects me to marry him in the worst way, as you can well imagine.”

  “Oh, I can imagine all right.” R
obert tensed. His relaxed attitude of amusement disappeared. His eyes drilled intently into hers. “And you? How do you feel?”

  At long last, the moment of truth had arrived. Follow your head or follow your heart, Granny had said. Well, she knew for certain her heart had won. “I don’t love Charles, and I’m not going to marry him.”

  She started to lean back on the sofa and wait for his reply, but before she could, he roughly seized her shoulders and demanded, “Tell me exactly why you are not going to marry my brother.”

  “Because . . . because . . .” Seeing the expectant gleam in his eye, she threw her last bit of caution to the winds. She laid a gentle palm on his cheek and continued, “It’s because of you.”

  Robert drew in a ragged breath and pulled her close. “Are you sure?” he whispered in her ear.

  The touch of his hands, locked tight against her spine, sent her senses spinning. “Will you just stop talking and kiss me?”

  “Gladly.” First he kissed the tip of her nose, then her eyes. Finally he kissed her long and hard on her mouth. It was a kiss for her yearning soul to melt in, a kiss she returned with reckless abandon. When they finally broke apart, he sat back and regarded her with such a soft warmth in his eyes she knew beyond all doubt he loved her. “I had always assumed you would marry Charles, so naturally—”

  “I don’t need to be a countess,” she interrupted. “Nor do I need half a dozen estates, or however many your brother owns. I just want to be with you . . . unless . . .” She cocked her head and regarded him quizzically. “Unless, of course, you want us to be just friends.”

  With a deep sigh that combined both relief and delight, he replied, “Just friends? Surely you jest. You know you’ve stolen my heart. I fell in love with you the first moment I saw you, sitting amidst the ruins with your sketch pad. To hell with friendship. It’s been all I could do to keep my hands off you.”

  “My darling, from now on you won’t have to.”

  Robert pulled her into his arms again and began a series of kisses that left her weak with desire. When finally he murmured, “We need a bed.”

  She nodded in agreement, feeling a giddy sense of pleasure when he scooped her in his arms and carried her off to his bedchamber.

  Afterwards, when she lay naked in Robert’s arms, bursting with joy and completely satiated, she said, “I must be getting home soon. Will you come with me? It’s time you met my family.”

  “Not yet.” Robert raised up on an elbow and looked down at her. “I prefer you finish your business with Charles first. When that’s done, we’ll make our plans.”

  Never had she felt so blissfully happy, so fully alive! She could hardly wait to see Lord Melton again and give him her positive, irrefutable no.

  When Julia returned to Bretton Court, she felt as if she were floating on a cloud. Robert loved her! She wanted to dance across the marble floor of the vast entry hall, just thinking about the blissful years that lay ahead. Together, she and Robert would work on restoring ancient ruins. They would raise a number of beautiful children. They would make love every night.

  “Is that you, Julia?”

  Her father’s voice. When she saw him she stopped short. Only once before, the night they learned Douglas had died at the Battle of Waterloo, had she seen his usually cheerful face so pale and drawn. “Papa, what is the matter?”

  “It’s your mother. She suddenly collapsed this afternoon. The doctor says it’s her heart.”

  In an instant her joy turned to anguish. “Will she be all right?”

  “We don’t know yet. The doctor is still with her. I know you’ll want to see her, but first—” he laid a gentle hand on her arm “—you need to know that the cause of your mother’s collapse was you.”

  Julia gasped and cried, “How could that be, Papa? You know I would never—”

  “This afternoon a rumour reached her ears that you had been seen with Lord Melton’s younger brother, Robert Carstairs. You have been seen in his company more than once, and apparently quite enjoying yourself.” Papa looked her square in the eye. “You know how happy your mother has been, believing you were soon to become betrothed to Lord Melton. But now . . .” Papa’s voice broke. “Is it true, Julia? Are you involved with Robert Carstairs? If you are, I fear your mother may not survive another heartbreak.”

  “Oh my God, I couldn’t bear it if—” Julia pressed her hand over her face, fighting back tears. “I wouldn’t hurt Mama for anything in the world.”

  “I know you wouldn’t, daughter, but if you’re involved with this scoundrel, you will kill your mother as surely as if you had stabbed her in the heart.”

  Never had her father spoken to her like that before. With a sinking anguish, she swallowed the sob that rose in her throat and asked, “Where is she? I must go see her.”

  Papa’s jaw tightened. “I won’t have her hurt.”

  “I won’t hurt her, Papa, I promise.”

  “It’s me, Mama.” Julia bent over her mother’s bed, despairing over the sight of her mother lying there, so pale and wan.

  Lady Harleigh grabbed her hand and clasped it tight with more strength than Julia would have thought possible. “Is it true?” she asked in a laboured whisper. “Have you been seeing Lord Melton’s brother?”

  “Yes, Mama, I have, but . . .” At first the words she was about to say stuck in her throat, but she knew she had to say them. “Mr Carstairs and I are only friends. Don’t worry, I still plan to marry Lord Melton.”

  The next morning, crumpled pieces of notepaper covered Julia’s writing desk, some of them tear-stained, all the result of her painful attempts to write a farewell note to Robert. She had not yet finished when her grandmother came hobbling in on her cane. Granny seated herself on a chair beside the desk, her lined old face frowning with concern. “You look terrible, missy.”

  Julia gulped and replied, “I feel terrible.”

  “Have you heard the doctor says your mother is better this morning?”

  “I know. I’m very glad.”

  Granny peered at her carefully. “You don’t look glad.”

  “That’s because . . .” Before she could prevent it, a tear slid down her cheek. “Oh, Granny, I’m so glad Mama’s better, but . . .” She choked. Another tear followed the first.

  Granny offered her lace-edged handkerchief. “I see the problem. You’ve lost Robert, whom you love, and you’re going to marry Lord Melton whom you don’t love.”

  Julia took the handkerchief, wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “You know everything, don’t you?”

  “Just about.”

  “Then you know my heart is broken and there’s nothing I can do about it.” Bitterness tinged her voice as she continued, “I shall be Countess Melton – oh what a thrill! I shall be one of the exalted leaders of the ton, everyone bowing and scraping. I shall flit from one country estate to another and . . . Oh, Granny, I’m so miserable I don’t know what to do!”

  Granny frowned. “Why on earth did you tell your mother you would marry Lord Melton?”

  “Because she would have died if I hadn’t.”

  “That’s rubbish!”

  Caught off guard by her grandmother’s vehement reply, Julia sat stunned for a moment. “How can you say such a thing when Mama was at death’s door, and all because of me?”

  “Maybe she was and maybe she wasn’t. Either way, she and your father have no right to force you into doing something you don’t want to do.”

  Julia slowly shook her head from side to side. “I don’t care what you say. What’s done is done. I gave my word I would marry Lord Melton and so I shall.”

  Granny peered at her with her shrewd old eyes. “I cannot see you married to that foppish dolt.”

  “Well, you had best get used to the idea.”

  “I won’t. And furthermore . . .” A strange expression crossed Granny’s face, almost as if she’d had some sort of revelation. “I predict you are not going to marry him. Something’s going to happen that will make y
ou change your mind.”

  “Would you mind telling me what?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  Julia laughed wryly. “This time you’re wrong, Granny. I have lost Robert for ever and must make the best of it. Nothing on this earth could make me change my mind.”

  Notified of Lady Harleigh’s illness, Lord Melton sent his best wishes for a fast recovery, adding he would await “that fervently anticipated moment when she would be well enough to receive guests again”. He didn’t have long to wait. After making a remarkably swift recovery, Julia’s mother not only abandoned her bed, she began planning a dinner party for some of her finest, most prestigious friends, including, of course, Lord Melton. She even invited the Prince Regent himself. Though Prinny refused, citing an important engagement elsewhere, her elation knew no bounds when the Duke and Duchess of Sherford accepted. “A Knight of the Garter will be at our table!” she elatedly declared.

  An invitation was sent to Lord Melton “and guest”, as was the proper etiquette. Naturally Mama expected him to come alone, but when Melton returned his RSVP stating he planned to bring a guest, she grew alarmed. “Is it a woman? Do you suppose he has found someone else?”

  “Nonsense, my dear,” her husband reassured her, “no one could replace our daughter. The dinner party will give Julia the perfect opportunity to give Lord Melton her answer. You have nothing to fear.”

  Over the next few days, Julia wondered who Melton’s guest could be. In her heart she fervently hoped he had indeed found someone else and had lost all interest in her. Or . . . could he possibly be bringing his brother? She had not heard from Robert since she sent him her farewell note. Not that she expected a reply – or deserved a reply. But despite her decision to marry Charles, thoughts of Robert filled her mind nearly every waking moment. How could she live without him? How could she ever be happy again? She wondered, too, how Robert felt. Had she broken his heart? Was he as devastated as she? Why hadn’t she heard from him?

  On the night of the dinner party, Julia, dressed in a daringly low-cut gown of white bombazine, performed her hostess duties as if by rote. Standing in the entry hall beside her parents, she was greeting guests when she saw Lord Melton pull up the drive to the front portico in his curricle. Robert Carstairs sat by his side.