Regency for all Seasons: A Regency Romance Collection

by Mary Lancaster

“Blessed saints,” Honey muttered. “And there are more just like him? Belle has to meet one of these eligible Braydens.”

  Belle frowned. “What about you?”

  “I told you, I’m taking over the family business. A husband will only be a hindrance.”

  Violet knew she had to have a serious discussion with Honey, but now was not the time. She’d take her aside after the charity recital. The right partner opened up opportunities, not shut doors. But Honey could be stubborn and would take a good deal of persuading.

  After introductions were made, they all entered the dining room to sit for supper. The conversation was lively, mostly about the progress of the recital. Dillie and Daisy joined them shortly afterward, along with their husbands, happy to report they’d already collected a substantial number of vouchers they would turn over to Finn tomorrow. “Ticket sales are brisk,” Dillie said, “but most will simply pay at the door.” She glanced at her own husband and smirked. “Ian will see to that.”

  It helped that Dillie was married to a duke, especially one as powerful and respected as Ian Markham, the Duke of Edgeware. The notion of actually paying up front was foreign to most of the Upper Crust, but they would not dare defy Edgeware.

  It seemed he and Daisy’s husband, Lord Gabriel Dayne, were quite enjoying setting down the law to these lords and ladies. “Some of them are insufferable,” Gabriel muttered. “They think they can run up tabs wherever they please. Most pay up eventually, but there are always a few who never do and never will. I can understand those who suffer from a desperate lack of funds. But there are those who do so merely out of disdain for their inferiors. And they conveniently believe everyone is their inferior. I look forward to tossing those churls out on their ear.”

  Daisy cast her husband a warning glance. “There will be no unpleasantness at your charity affair, Violet. Never you worry. No fists will be raised.”

  “I’m so grateful to all of you. This is wonderful,” Violet said, her eyes aglow and her heart beating with excitement. “I wish the abbess of St. Aubrey’s was here, but this affair is all so rushed, I doubt she’ll respond to my letter until after the recital. She’ll want to write to each of you to thank you personally.”

  “None required. It is our pleasure,” Dillie’s husband said, glancing at Dillie with so much love gleaming in his eyes, that it stole Violet’s breath away. Would Romulus grow to love her as much as Ian obviously loved Dillie?

  The gossip rags had been brutal in their description of Ian as well as of Daisy’s husband, Gabriel. They were called wastrels, devils, disreputable rakehells. Mothers were warned to hide their daughters from these rogues.

  Good thing Dillie and Daisy had paid no attention to the whispers.

  Looking at these two couples, Violet was convinced love worked miracles.

  The evening, as enjoyable as it was, ended early. The recital planning was mostly done, and Belle and Honey were stifling yawns after their long journey.

  Violet was eager to return home with Romulus, for every minute alone with him was precious. He’d been reassigned to his old command, so there would be no grand tour or honeymoon for them, just a few days to get to know each other better before they were forced apart.

  They walked home and immediately retired to their bedchamber.

  Violet expected Romulus to have her undressed and in bed the moment the door closed behind them, but he strode to the window instead and appeared to be gazing at the moonlight.

  Violet walked to his side and peered out as well. “A beautiful moon tonight, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, love.” He turned to her with a wistful smile.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked when he returned his gaze to the moon.

  He shrugged. “I was wishing that time would stop, right here. Right now. I want to capture this night alone with you and hold it forever.”

  When he turned to face her, she tugged lightly on his cravat to unknot it. “Then let’s get to it, Captain Brayden. There isn’t a moment to waste.” But her smile faded as she studied his features in the moon’s glow. “You’re still worried. What is it that has you so tense? My recital? Your return to Cornwall?”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw as he reached out to turn her in his arms so that her back was now pressed lightly to his chest and his arms were around her as they both gazed out the window. “I rarely see such a clear sky when I’m on patrol off the coast. Fog usually swirls in deeper waters, like a gray cloak draped over my ship. But some nights, there is not so much as a wisp to be seen. On such a night, the moon is bright and full. It sits like a huge, silver ball, silent and glistening over the dark waves. The stars blanket the sky. They can blind a man with their shimmering sparkle.”

  “Sounds beautiful.”

  “It is. On those nights, the sea is gentle and quiet. One can hear the waves lapping the hull. I hope to share this sight with you before too long. Once I’m settled, I’ll send for you. But not until I’m certain it’s safe.”

  She nestled against him, her cheek resting upon his broad chest. “I look forward to the day. I can’t wait to see your ship, to sail away on it with you. To stand in your arms as you show me the moon and stars.”

  “There’s nothing like it, Violet. The beauty of it seeps into your soul.” He turned her and kissed her deeply. “As you have seeped into my soul.”

  He lifted her into his arms and carried her to bed. Violet could see that he was still worried, even as he lowered his body over hers and made sweet, slow love to her.

  What troubled him?

  Her recital? The new cabin boy? The pirates who were overly emboldened? Jameson Forester, of course?

  His worry now nagged at her, remaining in the dark recesses of her mind even as his hands slid magically along her body, caressing her and rousing her so that she was hot and ready when his big, magnificent body joined with hers. He sent her soaring to the silver moon and sparkling stars he had just been talking about. “I love you, Romulus.”

  “Thank The Graces,” he teased. “I was worried you were bored and not enjoying yourself.”

  “And you? Are you bored?”

  He groaned. “Hell, no. My low brain is in spasms and ready to go again.”

  “Is it physically possible for your body to recover so fast?”

  “Men are like salmon during spawning season. They will ignore the laws of gravity, defy the impossible for the chance to mate.”

  But he did little more than hold her in his arms and stroke his fingers gently along her skin for a good, long while. Only after a length of time had passed, did he shift her under him, pressing his body over hers and stoking the fires within her. Their coupling felt different this time, perhaps a little more desperate, as though Romulus’s soul ached. It was as though a sadness had overwhelmed him even as he thrust into her and found his release.

  Their separation would be harder on him than it would be on her. She would have her family and his to keep her company and occupy her time. Belle and Honey would be a distraction for certain. But Romulus would be on patrol, chasing down pirates and enduring sudden squalls.

  Perhaps it was merely a commander’s nature to think of all that could go wrong. Those worries would not leave him, not even while he was in the throes of ecstasy. She was not hurt or angry. She knew he took pleasure in her body. But he was also thinking of his impending return to his old command and resuming his old life, one that did not include her.

  She sensed he was already missing her.

  Worrying about being apart from her.

  His worry was infectious, and this insidious, inkling of doubt crept into her heart as well, leaving her with unsettled dreams.

  Would she ever have the chance to stand in the circle of his arms on the deck of his ship?

  Or would it all go horribly wrong and she’d never see Romulus alive again once he returned to Cornwall?

  Chapter Eighteen

  The rain cleared off early Saturday morning, the day of Violet’s recital. She was re
lieved, for the dampness was not good for her throat and she was tense enough already. A mere eight hours left until the big event.

  She’d hardly touched her breakfast and was now picking at her noontime meal. The thought of a hundred spectators paying to hear her sing, ogling her, and expecting to be dazzled by her performance, had her stomach tied in knots.

  “Violet, love. Are you all right?” Romulus asked, frowning as he watched her from across the table.

  “Yes, perfect.” She flashed him a smile and quietly tried to calm her nerves by reminding herself of all that was in readiness. “Perhaps I ought to try on the gown once more. Just to be certain–”

  “What? Just to be certain you haven’t suddenly grown too tall for it? Or too big for it? I don’t think you have anything to worry about. It fit you to perfection yesterday.” His frown of concern eased into a rakish grin. “Gad, you looked so good in it. I wanted to strip you out of it so badly.”

  “That makes no sense.” Her gown was more of a costume piece, an opalescent, pearl-colored silk confection in a medieval style that had a silk overtunic in hues of blue and green, the colors of the ocean, and a silver belt that circled her hips and fell to a V in front. It had been freshened and was neatly laid out on her bed.

  “It makes perfect sense. You looked spectacular in it, so where else was my low brain to go but to wish to see you naked out of it? You look spectacular right now, by the way.”

  She gasped. “We are not going upstairs to bed. I’m not about to let you get me hot and sweaty, then I’ll have to bathe all over again.” She had been treated like a queen this morning, the tub brought up to their chamber, hot water poured into it along with exotic, fragrant oils that Belle and Honey had brought with them from their Oxford perfume shop.

  She’d enjoyed a good, long soak, and then her maid had washed her hair before the water turned too cold. There was nothing more to do but style her curls now that they had dried.

  Romulus took a sip of his coffee, then set down his cup. “I’m available to assist you with another bath should you change your mind. Not that I’m insisting, mind you. I just want to be clear about my willingness to help.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “Is that right? You’d lather me up? Wash me down?”

  “Why not? I did a commendable job rubbing vinegar all over your body when the bees attacked, if you will recall. I can do the same with scented soaps or oils.”

  “I’m impressed,” she teased. “You are quite versatile.”

  He cast her a seductive smile. “Care to find out just how versatile?”

  “Oh, you wicked, wicked man!” She was so tempted, but she dared not. Still, he was incredibly…no! She began to fuss with her hair.

  Jameson had suggested she leave it down tonight, as part of the theatrical effect, so that it tumbled long and loose over her shoulders and down her back. He said it would give the impression of youth and innocence, not to mention beauty. He vowed they would haul in another thousand pounds from the well-heeled, London set because of it.

  “Why are you suddenly fussing with you hair, Violet?”

  “I was thinking how I ought to style it.”

  “I thought you said Forester wants you to keep it unbound.”

  She nodded. “He does.”

  “So, where’s the problem? I can see why he suggested it. Every man watching you will believe you walked out of his dream. He’ll imagine running his fingers through your dark curls.”

  Of course, she knew Romulus would seriously maim any man who attempted it.

  “They’ll all be wishing you were theirs and believing you are singing to them alone.”

  “I can’t believe you are agreeing with him.”

  He cast her a wry smile and arched his eyebrow. “In truth, neither can I. But he’s right about this. Your medieval costume will have them thinking they are heroic knights and you are the damsel in distress they must rescue. I can’t repeat what else they’ll be thinking. I can only say this is what crossed my mind.”

  She sighed.

  “Men spend their blunt freely when their low brains are engaged. You, my innocent and utterly ravishing wife, will have them in a low brain frenzy. They’ll be hurling wads of pound notes onto the stage.”

  “Fine. Enough. I’ve agreed to wear the medieval gown and keep my hair unbound.” She snorted. “Damsel in distress, indeed. Two of the songs in my repertoire are medieval ballads. I suppose this outfit makes sense.”

  She’d rehearsed those ballads and others each day at the Royal Society hall with one of London’s best-known pianists to accompany her. Jameson had mentioned they would have to pay the man out of the proceeds, for he would not play without being compensated. Violet hoped his fee was not exorbitant, but since Jameson had already agreed to the terms, there was little she could do about it.

  Belle and Honey had gone with her to each rehearsal. Also with them was a burly, watchful footman. Neither Uncle John nor Romulus trusted the three of them to be left on their own, even though they were never alone in the Royal Society building.

  It mattered not that the place was crawling with scholars and stodgy professors, as well as the occasional nobleman who came to admire the ancient swords, artifacts, and bones kept under glass in the Society’s small museum near the hall.

  Violet toyed with her own cup of coffee, absently twirling it in her hands as she took a deep breath for the twelfth time this morning.

  Romulus arched an eyebrow. “You’ll be perfect, Violet. Don’t work yourself into a state.”

  “I can’t help it. It’s hitting me like a wall of stone tumbling off an ancient fortress. I–”

  Their butler strode in with a note for her. “Ma’am,” he said, bowing as he handed it to her.

  She opened it and groaned. “Belle isn’t feeling well. It’s this weather. The morning rain and now the sudden chill. I knew it would affect her lungs. Honey will likely stay with her, and I’ll have neither of them with me tonight.”

  Romulus set aside the newspaper he’d obviously been hoping to read while he finished his coffee. “Love, your Aunt Sophie will be there with John and your other uncles. So will Daisy, Dillie, and their husbands.”

  “But they’ll be occupied in the front of the hall, making certain everyone pays the entrance fee. I suppose Jameson and Valerie will calm me down.”

  “And Finn will be guarding the receipts. His brothers will be helping out as well.”

  She managed a smile. “The Brayden tadpole-wildebeests.”

  He leaned forward and grinned. “Lady Miranda will be in the audience as well. She’ll take a battle axe to anyone who dares disrupt your performance.” He reached across the table to take her hand, enveloping her cold fingers in his big, warm palm. “I’ll be there, too. There’s that little matter I must tend to at the Admiralty, but it shouldn’t take up more than an hour of my afternoon. I’ll be home in plenty of time to escort you to the recital hall this evening.”

  She shook her head. “Picking up your cabin boy is no little matter. How odd that you should be asked to bring him to your home and have him ride with you to Cornwall, don’t you think?”

  Romulus shrugged. “It is a bit unusual. I usually meet my cabin boys when I’m on my ship, but since The Plover is still under repair, I suppose it is just as efficient to bring the boy along with me. I’m riding to Cornwall anyway. He’ll be no bother.”

  “The Lord Admiral will know the boy is being well looked after while in your care. I wonder if he’s related to the king.”

  “If the lad is, then he’ll be my commander by the time he’s eighteen. I had better stay in his good graces.”

  Violet knew he was jesting, but the sudden summons to collect this boy struck her as odd. “He’s welcome here, of course. I wish they had waited until tomorrow. After all, didn’t you say the Lord Admiral himself will be in attendance tonight? Surely he understands how important it is for me to have you by my side.”

  Romulus nodded. “Which is why
he arranged for me to retrieve the boy well before your recital. It is quite likely this matter could not wait.”

  “Do you know the boy’s name yet?”

  “No. Wasn’t mentioned in the note.”

  Violet shook her head. “Most odd. I’ll lay odds he is related to the king.”

  “Then I’m honored to be entrusted with his care.”

  Violet rolled her eyes. “Ugh, and you really mean it, too. Sometimes, I wish you weren’t so wonderfully noble. Should we bring him with us to the recital? I hate to leave him on his own mere hours after you bring him home. The Mayhew girls will take excellent care of him, but it isn’t the same as having us. He might enjoy an evening of music.”

  “Said no boy ever,” Romulus muttered. “We’ll ask him which he’d prefer. How’s that?”

  “Perfect. And he can stay in the ancient relics room with me if he begins to tire and doesn’t wish to remain in the hall with everyone else. They’ve thoughtfully placed a settee and small table in there for my use tonight. Let’s bring along a pillow and coverlet. Perhaps a few apples and toys. He can eat, play, or sleep in there while I’m singing on stage. No one will disturb him, other than Finn when he locks the receipts in the vault where they keep the smaller relics.” She cast him a triumphant smile. “There, all figured out.”

  She noticed Romulus was not smiling along with her.

  “Do cheer up Romulus. It’s a perfect solution. What can go wrong?”

  *

  The route to the Admiralty was becoming quite familiar to Romulus. He’d been riding back and forth each day this week, the Lord Admiral having suddenly become his most ardent supporter and seeking his opinion on naval tactics, battle preparedness, ship design, even which wines to stock in the flagship wine cellar. Romulus hardly considered himself an expert on that matter.

  “Ah, Brayden. Just in time. Let me introduce you to your new charge, Lord Innes Buchan, son of the Duke of Buchan.”

  The boy stepped forward. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Captain Brayden. I look forward to serving under your command.”