“Why not? I should think it would make a big difference!”
“We have no time to get to know each other. I must disappear at once before my uncle learns from Lord Manchester where I am. Or … ” She told the countess of Mr. Aldershott’s offer. “I have decided to refuse him. Even in five years, I cannot live down the lane from Major Lambeth and be married to another man.”
“Oh, my dear. Do not do that! It would be a terrible mistake. You care for my brother?”
“Very much.”
“I had absolutely no idea!”
Tears welled in Delia’s eyes at the thought of the love she would never have. “We have not spoken often, so I was very surprised, but I do return his regard. He does not even know who I am. It is not possible for me to marry him, of course, if that is even in his mind. My uncle will not give his permission.”
“Do not do anything until I talk to my brother. An idea is brewing in my mind.”
Delia felt a faint stirring of hope. She handed her letter to Lady Grenville. “Will you give him my letter, please?”
“I will be happy to. Do I have your permission to tell him the details of your situation?”
Delia took a deep, steadying breath. “Yes. You may. Thank you so much for your consideration, Lady Grenville.”
“This entire affair is very frustrating!” Both ladies stood. Lady Grenville took Cordelia’s hands in hers and squeezed them. “Do not worry. John is a major and very good at strategy! We will think of something.”
{ 23 }
John was waiting in the garden when Felicity returned from The Elms. The house could not contain his restlessness.
“I hope all is not lost,” she told him, handing him Lady Cordelia’s letter. “She is poised to fly off and go into hiding again. Her uncle beats that little thing most ferociously. It is his desire that she marry Lord Manchester. Once the marriage takes place, the monster expects to be reimbursed out of Lady Cordelia’s fortune for his efforts.”
“The devil!” John felt his anger rise to the boiling point. Wasting no more time, he opened Cordelia’s letter. Once he read that she returned his affections, his thoughts flew in another direction.
“I will convince her to go off to Scotland with me and be married over the anvil. I do not care a jot for her fortune and whether she receives it or not.”
Felicity put a hand on his arm. “At least discuss the situation with Alex. And you must, in good conscience, inform Lord Lindsay of Manchester’s true nature. Any man that would go along with Lady Cordelia’s uncle’s scheme is a brute.”
“You are correct, as usual, Felicity. Where might I find Alex?”
“He is in his library, or was when I left.”
“If you please, I should like you to relate Lady Cordelia’s story to him.”
When a frowning Alex was made aware of the governess’s sad circumstances, he said nothing, but instead walked over to where his stack of old newspapers sat. John grew impatient as his brother appeared to be looking for something.
“This is not the time to be reading newspapers! Did you not understand what Felicity said? The woman I love has been most foully treated and is on point of leaving the district …”
“Ah, here it is,” Alex said. “I thought I remembered it.” He sat behind his desk and held out the newspaper to John. “Second notice down from the top.”
“What is this?” John scanned the paper, and then read aloud. “Lord Sudbury Taken Suddenly By Apoplexy.” Checking the date on the paper, he said with a sudden surge in spirits, “This was nearly a week ago. Lady Cordelia knows nothing of this! Manchester, that demon played her false merely to distress her.”
“He succeeded well,” Felicity said. “She is most distressed.”
“Then I must go to her, before I tackle Manchester. I am in your debt, Alex,” he said, throwing the newspaper back on the stack.
He arrived to find Lady Cordelia sitting in the garden with Clarissa, reading myths. She stood up at his arrival, the book on her lap falling to the ground.
“Major Lambeth!”
Her face was flushed, her eyes dull with sorrow. He was tempted to call out the wretched marquis who had caused her such distress.
“Miss Clarissa, I need to have a private word with Lady Cordelia, if you please.”
The girl’s eyes went wide and she scampered off.
Without waiting another moment, he pulled his love into his arms and kissed her soundly. At first, she resisted, but then he felt her body give into his and he deepened the kiss, unleashing the pent-up passion of the past six weeks. Her ardor matched his so that it was only with difficulty that he pulled away.
When at last he let her go, he held her to his chest and wrapped his arms about her waist. “All will be well, darling. Your uncle is dead of apoplexy. Alex read it in the newspaper several days ago. Though I was prepared to ride with you to Gretna Green and marry you over the anvil.”
“Uncle dead!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands beneath her chin. “How perfectly wonderful!” Standing on her tip-toes, she pulled him down by the shoulders and kissed him once more. “Now why did I not think of flying to Gretna? It is in the best tradition of all literary melodrama!” Then she dimpled at him. “Am I to take it that you want to marry me?”
“I do love you, Lady Cordelia,” he said, his voice husky. “Say you will marry me.”
“Of course I will,” she said. “If you are over your mysterious partiality for Miss Lindsay.”
“I never cared for Miss Lindsay. I believe I fell in love with you when my carriage pulled away from the manor and you waved at my niece. I had been such a bore, and you were going to a new position that I knew was going to be difficult. You had suffered a carriage wreck after two straight days on the Mail. And you still had the spirit to give a happy wave to a two year old.”
“And you were suffering a fever and had just ridden a week straight coming home from one of the worst battles in history. Why were you not in better spirits, I wonder?”
“You must call me to task if I am ever rude to you again.”
“I think I shall merely crawl into your lap and kiss you ruthlessly.”
“I have always been struck by your good sense.”
“If you only knew! I was ready to run away to the Hebrides and live in a mud hut so my uncle would not find me.”
He sat on the garden seat and pulled her into his lap. “I do not blame you for that. But, as I see it, we still have one problem.”
“Let me guess. Unlike every other man in my life, you do not want my fortune.”
“You are correct. It is a serious stumbling block, my dearest.”
She screwed up her little face in thought. Was anyone else as adorable?
“I shall make a very good charity matron. Orphanages, I think. In the North Country. I have heard that there is much poverty and distress there.”
“Are you certain you have no qualms, dearest? The Nottinghamshire estate is more than I ever expected to have.”
“Shall you mind if we put something in trust for our children? I know the eldest son shall inherit the estate, but I should like our other children not to be penniless.”
“Seeing how much grief your fortune brought into your life, I think if we do form a trust for them, we should keep the matter dark.”
“I agree most heartily.”
“How many children should you like?” he asked running his index finger over her bottom lip.
“Four at least. I think the earl and countess have a lovely family.” She smiled at him, her eyes brimming with happy tears. “Oh, Major Lambeth! I am so very, very happy!”
He set her on the ground.
“Now we have a most urgent errand. We must reveal Lord Manchester’s perfidy to the Lindsays. I shall draw his cork while I am about it,” he said grimly. “I cannot bear to think of what he has caused you to suffer.”
“If that means what I think it means, Major Lambeth, I should not like this happy day to end in a brawl.
”
“It is the way gentlemen resolve disputes,” he said, looking at her puckered brow.
“But we can afford to be magnanimous. Especially today.”
He tweaked her tiny nose. “I shall give him a choice, then. He can either face me alone in the courtyard, or I shall reveal his perfidy to all and sundry.”
She batted his hand away. “I suppose that at least gives him a choice.”
Lord Manchester’s choice was a third alternative. John presented himself on the terrace where the man was entertaining the Lindsays with tales of London and asked to speak to Lord Manchester in private. Excusing themselves to the assembled company, they went into the salon.
Grasping the other man by his cravat and lifting him off his feet, John did not beat around the bush. “Either you leave immediately, or I shall gladly repay you for the heartache and anxiety you have caused my betrothed with my fists.”
“Betrothed?” Lord Manchester gasped.
“Lady Cordelia. I know about the dirty little deal between you and her devilish uncle. In case you haven’t heard, he’s dead. But Marianne Lindsay is a friend, and you are not going to draw her into your filthy lair. The game is up, Manchester. Go now, or have your machinations revealed in front of the entire family.”
The marquis was no hero. Struggling free of John’s grasp, he left the salon without a word. When John heard the front door close behind the man, he went back out onto the terrace.
With his most disarming smile, he said, “I should like to announce my betrothal to Lady Cordelia, daughter of the late Earl of Sudbury.”
The entire company looked on him with shock. Then from the direction of the stable they heard hoof beats. Tearing their eyes away from the former “Miss Haverley,” they saw Lord Manchester riding away at a gallop.
Miss Lindsay looked at John with narrowed eyes, sparking with anger. “What have you done? Where is Lord Manchester going?”
“To the devil, I hope,” said Lord John. “He is a blackguard of the deepest dye, and I have saved you from the sort of nightmare you cannot even imagine. I am still fond of you, Miss Lindsay. I could not do nothing. He would have gambled away your fortune before the year was out, and he has other unsavory qualities a well-bred young lady would not be expected to know about.”
“But he is a marquis!” exclaimed Lady Lindsay.
“There are other marquises to be had, my lady,” John said. “Come, my dear Lady Cordelia, we must call on the squire.”
{ Epilogue }
For the first Christmas in two years, Cordelia was surrounded by loved ones. Her wedding was held in the Grenville’s chapel on Christmas Eve. It was decorated in boughs of evergreen laced with red velvet ribbon. She wore a gown the color of yellow daisies. As she walked down the aisle on the arm of the Earl of Grenville, her heart expanded with joy such as she had never known. Everything was bathed in a golden glow.
The night before, as she had sat by the fire in her luxurious new bedroom suite at Grenville Manor, she had prayed that the spirits of her departed loved ones could be in attendance on the morrow. Now as she took her beloved John’s arm and faced the vicar, she felt a certain warmth across her shoulders as though someone was draping a mantle over her. She knew it for the warmth of her father’s touch. Cordelia smiled as tears of happiness spilled over onto her cheeks. She knew then, without doubt, that her family approved of her Major Lambeth. Their blessing made this glorious day complete.
Author’s Note
I hope that no one will think that I have treated the problem of melancholia too lightly. I have vast firsthand knowledge of the disorder, being bi-polar. Lord John was not bi-polar, however, but suffered from melancholia produced by circumstances, also known as battle fatigue. The reader can be confident that as events receded, to be replaced by the happy circumstances of his family life, his bouts would happen less and less frequently, and finally, not at all.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
G.G. Vandagriff is a traditionally published author who has recently gone Indie. She loves the Regency period, having read Georgette Heyer over and over since she was a teen. She also has a great many fans of her earlier books, particularly the award-winning The Last Waltz and The Only Way to Paradise, who are anxious to read sequels! And her mystery fans are always urging her to write another book featuring her wacky genealogical sleuths, Alex and Briggie. Obviously, G.G. likes to genre hop! In addition to her fiction, she has written two nonfiction works.
She studied writing at Stanford University and received her master’s degree at George Washington University. Though she has lived many places throughout the country, she now lives with her husband, David, a lawyer and a writer, on the bench of the Wasatch Mountains in Utah. From her office she can see a beautiful valley, a lake, and another mountain range. She and David have three grown children four delightful grandsons and one wonderful granddaughter.
After playing with, reading to, and doing crafts with her grandchildren, her favorite pastime is traveling with her husband. She goes to Italy once a year for medicinal purposes (and research—read The Only Way to Paradise). She has recently added Istanbul and Barcelona to her list of favorite places. G.G.’s favorite classic authors are Tolstoy, Charlotte Bronte, and Jane Austen. Her favorite contemporary authors are A. S. Byatt, John Fowles, Marisa de los Santos, and Emily Giffin.
Visit G.G. at her website http://ggvandagriff.com, where you can see pictures of her travels, read excerpts of her books, and sign up to receive her newsletter. You can also read her blog and sign up to follow. She has an author page on Facebook (http://www.ggvandagriff.com) and on Goodreads and Amazon. She loves to hear from her fans!
Copyright © 2015 G.G. Vandagriff All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Orson Whitney Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Cover design by Carol Fiorillo This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
The Orson Whitney Press
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