Regency for all Seasons: A Regency Romance Collection

by Mary Lancaster

  Even as a girl, Lillian had struggled with following along with what was expected of her. She liked and respected Euphemia Darrow, headmistress of her former school and now a dear friend. Even then, she’d found it nearly impossible to obey her. There was a recklessness in Lilly that had always left her straining at the bit of anything or anyone who tried to control her. She didn’t understand it herself, but there it was. She yearned for freedom. The funds her great-aunt wished to bestow on her as a marriage settlement could afford her that freedom, but only if she gave up all of her personal liberty first. Unless she could find someone who would offer her a marriage of convenience, a marriage where they would, after a suitable amount of time, live their own separate lives.

  At least, she thought, as a spinster companion earning a wage, she was entitled to make her own decisions about things. A husband would surely ruin all of that, unless she found someone who suited her needs.

  “What a terrible muddle it all is,” she mused aloud. She sounded like a forlorn child, but as she rather felt like one, there was little point in castigating herself for it.

  *

  Lord Valentine Somers, Viscount Seaburn, had taken a path through the park, not because it was shorter, but because it would delay the inevitable. He was not at all looking forward to calling on his grandmother. She would pester him about getting himself a wife. Then she’d threaten to cut him off as she always did. Then she’d point out his cousin, Elsworth, who would become the heir to the dukedom if he failed to produce a male child from whatever ill-fated union he entered into with whichever poor, unsuspecting woman was foolish enough to fall for the notorious Somers’ charm.

  Normally, he could easily withstand her scheming, manipulation, browbeating and whatever terrible maladies threatened her health as a direct result of his bad behavior. But there were things his grandmother did not know. Things that he feared might actually see an end to the old bird if they were to come out. Despite the manner in which they plucked at one another, he loved her terribly. And what was about to take their family by storm was not something any of them were fully prepared to deal with, certainly not some poor unsuspecting society miss who had the great misfortune to set her cap for him.

  The events looming ahead were certainly things that would make his taking a wife very complicated, indeed. The exalted Somers clan now hovered on the brink of social ruin, and only he could see the precipice on which they teetered. Even his worthless cousin who’d put them there was utterly clueless. Damn Elsworth, he thought. Damn him to hell. It would serve the addlepated sod right if Val were to let it all come crashing down around his head.

  Val rounded a bend in the path and stopped in his tracks. It was an entrancing sight, a barefoot goddess in a plain dress, muttering to herself and appearing as forlorn as he felt. Of course, he was also very willing to be distracted from the task that lay ahead of him. So he watched her, taking in every last and ridiculously fetching detail, including her slightly exaggerated and pouty frown. Oddly enough, he didn’t find her pretty in spite of that frown so much as because of it. Her face was delightfully expressive, her dark hair swept back into a simple chignon that highlighted the length of her neck and the gentle curve of her cheek. Her full lips were pursed and her brows were drawn together in what he could only categorize as consternation as a bonnet, the ugliest creation in the history of millinery, dangled from her fingertips. Another glance at the bonnet and he was hard pressed to call it anything other than a crime, no less than an assault on the senses.

  As if he’d summoned the creature with his own disparaging thoughts regarding her choice of chapeau, a bird swooped in and attacked the bonnet. The bird tugged at the ribbons looped so haphazardly about her delicate fingers until it could make off with its prize.

  “Oh, you rotten beast!” she cried out.

  And as Val watched, she proceeded to hoist up her skirts and attempt to climb the very tree where the offending bird had taken refuge. Perhaps it was that he was distracted by the shapely curves of her calves, or perhaps it was that he was rather taken aback by her clear mastery of the art of tree climbing, but by the time it occurred to him to offer assistance, she was halfway up the magnificent oak. She’d set her sights on her target and would not be dissuaded. The bird, as if sensing that its days were numbered, flew away and left the offending bonnet tangled in the branches.

  The girl shimmied over onto the branch which swayed rather alarmingly beneath her weight. Still, she was determined.

  Val was torn. He wanted to call out a warning, a caution for her to be careful. At the same time, as high up as she was, he couldn’t risk startling her. It was a situation he’d have not been in at all if he hadn’t been distracted when he stumbled upon her. Fetching or not, it appeared the girl was practically a lunatic and clearly lacked sufficient regard for her own life.

  When she’d reached the bonnet, her dilemma became apparent. There was no way for her to hold the hideous thing and climb down at the same time, nor could she put it on as the terribly floppy brim would no doubt obscure her view. As if she’d been aware of his presence all along, she looked directly at him. “Would it be possible for you to assist me, sir?”

  Definitely a lunatic. Rather than state what was clearly obvious, Val asked, “How I may be of assistance to you, Miss?”

  Unceremoniously, she tossed the bonnet to him. “Guard that with your life. If that foul, wretched fowl comes back for it, shoot him or stab him if you happen to have the means to do so on your person.”

  And then, standing there holding a bonnet that was too ugly to have warranted nearly so much trouble, Val began to laugh in spite of it all. His life, and the things he was forced to do in it, had taken a toll on him. One he certainly hadn’t recognized until it was much too late and any semblance of joy was gone from it. But this madcap girl, with her bonnet and her personal vendetta against a misbehaving crow, had prompted him to laugh as he had not in years. It was a remarkable feeling. He was still laughing as she shimmied down the tree.

  His laughter died abruptly when, a few feet from where it might have actually been safe to jump, she lost her footing. Rushing forward, the bonnet dropped to the ground in his haste, he caught her before she did herself serious injury. Though he did hear her gasp of pain as her ankle struck a protruding tree root.

  Setting her down at the base of the tree, he said, “Let me examine your ankle.”

  “Are you a physician then?” she demanded in a caustic tone.

  “No, but I am familiar enough with broken bones to recognize one,” he replied just as tartly.

  “I will, but first you must retrieve my bonnet. If I return home without it, my employer will be… perturbed,” she finished rather lamely.

  “Perturbed?” he repeated as he retrieved the hideous bit of frippery. “I should be perturbed to see you wearing it. It’s terribly ugly, you know?”

  “That’s rather the point,” she replied. “My employer feels that I am too attractive for my current position and circumstances. As such, she has taken it upon herself to dress me in a manner that will not invite undesirable attentions.”

  He was tempted, for a moment, to ask what sort of attention she did desire. But it was obvious to him, regardless of her unorthodox behavior, that she was not the sort of woman who would understand such a double entendre. She was, despite her rather hoydenistic tendencies, an innocent. With that thought in mind, he kept his examination of her ankle as perfunctory, proper and brief as possible. “It does not appear to be broken, but I do believe you have quite a sprain. I doubt very much that you’ll be able to walk back to your place of employment. Allow me to see you home in a hansom cab.”

  “No. That’s impossible! It isn’t far,” she insisted. “I’m sure I’ll be able to hobble along well enough.”

  “Then allow me to at least assist you to your destination. It is the least I can do,” he replied, his tone firm and brooking no argument. The girl was trying the last of his patience, his earlier enjoyment
of the situation all but forgotten. It didn’t help that, for him, in his current predicament, patience was at a premium.

  “My employer will be most displeased,” she said.

  “I daresay your employer will be more displeased if you attempt to hobble there and injure yourself further, thus limiting your usefulness for the next few days,” Val pointed out.

  She opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, and when it closed the second time, her full lips compressed into a firm and quite obviously irritated line. He took immense satisfaction in that. He didn’t know why, but he did.

  “Very well, sir,” she relented. “I thank you for both your wisdom and your assistance… belated as it was.”

  “Yes,” he said, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice. “But please, restrain yourself, Miss. You’ll put me to blush with the effusiveness of your gratitude.”

  “You’re making fun of me.”

  Val shrugged. “I rather thought I was making fun of us both… now tell me, do you have footwear? Or has some woodland creature absconded with that, as well?”

  “They’re tucked under that bush over there,” she said, pointing in the direction.

  Val moved away from her long enough to retrieve the simple, kid walking boots and stockings. “Put them on your uninjured foot. But I would not put them on the other if I were you.”

  “I cannot return with one foot covered and one foot bare!”

  She would argue that it was the sky which was green and the grass which was blue. “Fine. Put it on then… the process will no doubt be terribly painful. And by the time we arrive at your destination, the swelling in your ankle will have progressed to the point that the boot will likely have to be cut off. And while it may be crass of me to make presumptions, I imagine that replacing those boots would be somewhat difficult for you in your current position.”

  “Turn around, please,” she said. “I cannot don my stocking with you watching me.”

  Val sighed, but dutifully turned his back while she rolled on the discarded stocking and donned a single boot. After a suitable amount of time had passed, he turned back to her. “Now, what is your direction?”

  “Number Ten, South Audley Street,” the girl replied.

  Val felt his gut clench. “And you are employed by the Dowager Duchess of Templeton, are you not?”

  Her eyes widened. “How do you know that?”

  “It appears we are headed in the same direction, Miss. Your employer, my grandmother, has summoned me.”

  “Seaburn,” the girl said with horror.

  “Quite right. Lord Valentine Somers, Viscount Seaburn, at your service.”

  Chapter Two

  Well that was the end of it, Lilly thought. She’d be sacked and turned out without recommendation. Not even being a graduate of the Darrow School would get her an interview now, not having been let go from two positions without a reference. The first one was not at all her fault. But this one, well, she couldn’t exactly call herself blameless in it. Running barefoot in Hyde Park like some sort of feral creature, showing her ankles and heaven knew what else to some man who turned out to be her employer’s grandson? She’d be sacked for certain and it was absolutely her own fault. Perhaps she could work for her sister as a nanny? Not in a paying capacity, but trading room and board and living off the generosity of her sister’s new husband like the poor relation she was. It wasn’t such an ignoble existence, was it? Yes. Yes, it was. The very idea of being the poor relation, even if that was an accurate description, raised her hackles.

  “Let’s get you on your feet and see if there is any hope of you walking,” he offered helpfully as he held out his hand to her.

  Lilly placed her hand in his and immediately wished to withdraw it. His hand was strong and warm, his fingers lightly callused, from what she could not imagine. Men of his standing did not have callused hands. Yet he did. But it wasn’t those out of character calluses which caused her to draw back. It was that frisson of something else, a jolt of something she could not name nor fathom, that raced through her rather like the electricity machine that Lady Daschel had brought in as entertainment during her house party. It wasn’t necessarily unpleasant, but it did leave her feeling unsettled.

  He pulled her up almost effortlessly. Standing only on her uninjured foot, she tentatively tried to bear weight on her other leg. A sharp hiss of pain escaped her and she stumbled. She likely would have fallen had he not caught her once more. Only this time, she wasn’t so overcome with fear that she didn’t notice how firm his chest was where it pressed against her own much softer form, nor could she ignore the strange warmth that suffused her at having his arms wrapped about her thusly. Oh, dear. It was all so very wrong. She knew what all of those things meant, of course, even if she had not experienced them personally. And until the very moment Lord Valentine Somers, Viscount Seaburn, had crossed her path, Lilly had thought herself immune to lust. But she was not. And the man she lusted for was quite possibly the one most forbidden to her in all of England. The grandson—the titled grandson, no less—of her employer.

  “I’ll carry you to the gate and get a cab for us,” he said. “You cannot possibly walk, nor hobble, for such a distance.” The last was offered with gentle amusement.

  “I’m very appreciative of your assistance, my lord,” Lillian replied. And she meant it. She was grateful to him, but she had the distinct impression that she might have been better off if she’d simply fallen and breathed her last beneath that blasted tree.

  Lillian had thought she was prepared. But the moment when he swept her up into his arms, she realized she could not possibly have been prepared for what it would feel like. He carried her as bridegroom carried his bride, nestled in his arms, close to his chest. So close, in fact, that she could see the faint shadow of whiskers beneath his skin, though it was just after noon. His profile was perfection—forehead high and straight, a nose as sharp as the edge of a knife, and a stubborn chin that jutted forward ever so slightly with a hint of cleft in it. Only the sweep of long, dark lashes and the fullness of his lips hinted at any softness at all, and those features fascinated her far more than they should have. Certainly more than she could afford for them to given how disparate their stations were. This was not some governess becoming infatuated with a solicitor or even an under butler. He was the heir to a dukedom, after all.

  “Just hang on,” he said. “We’ll have it all sorted out in no time.”

  Whether those cheery words were intended to make her feel better or if they were solely for his own benefit, as she’d essentially ruined his afternoon, she couldn’t say. So, Lilly only smiled and nodded. “I’m certain we shall.” Lies. They were just rolling off her tongue one after another. There was no sorting anything out. There was her packing her things and hobbling away on some crutch procured from a passing peddler when the dowager duchess tossed her out on her ear for her unbecoming conduct.

  “Not to be impertinent, but if I’m going to carry you into my grandmother’s house, it might help if I actually knew your name.”

  Of course. Now, in addition to being a hoyden, a clumsy fool, and a complete harpy, she was also addlebrained. “Miss Lillian Burkhart, my lord.”

  “Miss Burkhart,” he said. “I can tell you that it has been a most singular pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  “Hardly that. I’ve been a nuisance and an inconvenience from the very outset!” she said. There was no point in trying to deny any of it.

  “But I haven’t been bored,” he replied with a wicked grin. “And that, Miss Burkhart, makes you more than worth the trouble.”

  “I doubt your grandmother will agree,” Lilly said with a heavy sigh. “I’m already on my very last hope with her. No doubt, she’ll send me packing!”

  “Why? Because a hackney traveling much too fast nearly ran you down? It was a terrible shame that you were injured by the carelessness of others, Miss Burkhart! How fortuitous it was that we were both heading in the same direction an
d I witnessed the incident. I was very heroic when I rushed to your rescue, wasn’t I?”

  As he uttered that Banbury tale, his full lips, framed so perfectly by the dark shadow of his beard, curved upward in such a way that no woman looking at him could possibly resist his allure.

  “You needn’t lie on my account, my lord,” Lilly said. “You do not appear to be especially good at it and your grandmother will not be pleased.”

  “I’ve lied for much less worthy causes, Miss Burkhart, than that of keeping you gainfully employed. But tell me, how did such a—” He broke off, clearly uncertain how to describe her without it being an insult.

  “Hoyden? Hellion? Scapegrace?” she offered helpfully.

  “Woman of irrepressible spirt,” he corrected, “come to be employed by my always proper, often dull, and deeply boring grandmother?”

  “I had been working as a governess,” Lilly confessed. It was a mistake to tell the sordid tale, but she didn’t seem to be able to keep it all in. She wanted to keep talking because she wanted him to continue looking at her. And also, as long as she was talking, she wouldn’t do something impossibly foolish like attempting to kiss him only to startle them both and wind up in the Serpentine.

  “Governess and companion are not such disparate professions,” he offered.

  “No, they are not. I was working for a family, not quite the first stare, but wealthy enough and well respected. They moved in society though not in the thick of it. I tended to the two youngest girls. The oldest was set to make her debut and then there was the oldest son… he’d been sent down from school for infractions I was not to know about.”

  He grew very still. “Go on, Miss Burkhart.”

  “He made some rather aggressive advances which I successfully spurned,” she said. She didn’t want him thinking she was some sort of weakling who couldn’t defend herself. “At any rate, in the process, I blackened his eye and then his mother walked in. He told her that I’d become angry, lost my mind with temper, and struck him because I fancied myself in love with him and he didn’t return my affections. Frankly, as horrid as it makes me sound, he was rather hideously ugly and only a mother would have believed any reasonably attractive woman had fancied herself in love with such a whey-faced little toad.”