Diaries of a Heartbroken Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Collection

by Hamilton, Hanna

  “But you cannot put your life on hold forever, waiting for the Earl to spawn,” Ludlow said.

  The Viscount was not unattractive. At forty years old he stood tall, but with a head of nearly all white hair. He had a finely chiseled face, but it had a hard edge to it. His eyes were steely grey and that gave him a menacing look when he was angry or upset.

  “Then perhaps you should find yourself another lady to torture as you do me. I have explained my situation to you numerous times, but still, you keep taunting me about marriage. What is the big rush?”

  Ludlow sighed and went over to his desk where he opened a leather folder where he kept his current papers. He picked up a paper and walked toward Amelia with a sneer.

  “But you see, I know how much you love me. We are so alike—two black pearls in the center of a Borgia necklace. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Amelia had to laugh. “Most likely.”

  He came up behind her and grabbed her by the waist from behind and kissed the side of her neck. She wiggled free and turned to him.

  “What is that?” she asked, pointing to the paper in his hand.

  “Ah… My new project.” He waved it in the air seductively.

  “Are you going to tell me?” she asked

  “Perhaps. If you are very, very good.”

  “Or very, very naughty,” she added.

  “Yes, or that.”

  They both laughed. Then he handed her the paper which she studied.

  “I don’t understand,” she said looking up and handing the paper back to him. “A shipping canal?”

  “Yes.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “Shipping, of course. The whole of Cambridge County lacks easy access to the North Sea. But with a few well-connected canals to the River Ouse, we could ship our goods cheaply and swiftly to the Wash where we could set up a port and ship abroad for far greater access to the continental markets.”

  “And this is your project?” Amelia asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And what does this have to do with me? I have no interest, and even less influence to help you achieve this goal.”

  “Ah, but your brother does,” he smiled.

  Amelia raised her chin and looked at him with new interest. “And what is in it for me?”

  “A successful Viscount who has launched a massive project benefiting the whole county—and most especially himself—might just be in a position to marry.”

  “And just how might this Viscount benefit himself?”

  “Through tolls. My canals would not be free. And shipping tariffs. Once the port is built I intend to control all the shipping.”

  Amelia smiled. “Most enterprising. And you wish me to influence my brother how?”

  “I have acquired all the land I need to construct the principal canal. However, there is one parcel I still need…”

  “Let me guess. It would cross our land, would it not?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And why not just circumvent the Donnelly property?”

  “Unfortunately all adjacent properties contain hills that prevent us from connecting to the lower-lying canal.”

  “And you want me to what?”

  “Work with me to convince your brother to sell a portion of his estate to me.”

  “Have you spoken to him about this yet?”

  “I briefly mentioned it to him once in passing as we were visiting after a church service, and he seemed uninterested. I need you to help him become interested.”

  “And you, of course, expect to pay for this property?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then I want ten percent of the sale price for my services,” Amelia insisted.

  “And if we were to marry?”

  “What difference would that make?” Amelia asked. “I expect to be compensated for my most valuable services as his sister and/or your wife.”

  “Oh, you are a harsh one,” he said laughing. “Five percent.”

  “Seven-five.”

  “Oh, very well. You are impossible,” he said waving his hand in the air.

  “And that is why you love me,” she said as she turned, snatched the paper from his hand, and added, “Let me set up a dinner party and I will arrange it so the two of you will have some time alone.”

  “I’d like you to be present. You may be able to help influence him in my favor.”

  “I will do what I can. Just leave it to me.”

  * * *

  “You are totally, intensely, and irrevocably insane?” Amelia shouted just after Robert told her about his plan to be published.

  He was trying to be patient with her. “But it will not be published under my name. I have found a most exceptional young lady who may agree to be my surrogate author.”

  Robert noticed Amelia’s softened expression and surmised she liked the sound of that, as she was always looking for a possible wife for him.

  “And who is this woman?” Amelia asked, “Is she of the blood?”

  “She is the daughter of a lecturer I had when I was at the university.”

  “Oh, an academic…”

  That was only slightly elevated above a dustman in her eyes, Robert knew—slightly amused—and dashing Amelia’s hopes of a good marriage prospect.

  “Well, that certainly is not going to happen,” she announced categorically.

  “Oh, and why is that?”

  “Because you are the Earl of Donnelly, and it is social suicide if you attempt such an endeavor.”

  “But I have already explained to you my proposed arrangement which will shield me from your concerns.”

  “And how do you know she can be trusted—this woman of romantic fiction?”

  “Because it is in her interest. She will greatly increase her income from the sales of my books.”

  “And if you fail? What will keep her from announcing to the world that you are the true author of this massive failure and not her?”

  “Because she is an honorable gentlewoman.”

  “And you are certain of this? You know her that well, do you?”

  “Well enough.”

  “Robert, you are a fool.”

  “Perhaps. But must I remind you once again that I am the head of this household and the Earl of Donnelly, and you are my dearest sister living here under my protection and at my pleasure. If, however, that arrangement does not satisfy you, then you are free to make other arrangements—at your own expense.”

  That completely silenced Amelia. She clasped her fingers together and pretended to study the books on a particular shelf. And still studying the books announced, “I am planning a small dinner party Friday next week. I am inviting the Viscount Berwick, the Simpson-Wright sisters and the Lord and Lady Booth. I know how much the Simpson-Wrights amuse you, so I am counting on your attendance.”

  “Sounds pleasant enough—except for Berwick. Bit of a bore, if you ask me. And he’s been pressing me about some scheme of his which I have no interest in. Must he come?”

  Amelia turned to Robert with her most winning smile. “Oh, my dear Robert, but he is such a charming gentleman at a dinner party. He can be so witty and entertaining. I am certain the other guests will be delighted to have him at the table.”

  Robert was not going to fight her about this, as he knew the two of them often spent time together. “Very well, he may attend.”

  Amelia came forward and put her hand on Robert’s arm and said, “And oh, I forgot… there is one other guest.”

  “Yes?”

  “Lady Hortense Wilton will also be attending. She just happens to be traveling from London through Cambridge on her way to Kingston upon Hull to visit her dear aunt and uncle.”

  Robert suspected that Lady Hortense was another of Amelia’s eligible ladies of marriageable age, but he was too caught up in his pending publication to take on another fight with his sister.

  “Lady Hortense… Another of your protégés?”

  “A most charming twenty-six. An absolut
e delight at whist, and an excellent horsewoman. I believe she is to arrive late morning the day of the dinner and it might be pleasant if the two of you went riding together.”

  Robert gave her a withering look. “I believe that is most unlikely.”

  “Wait until you see her, then you can decide. She is truly lovely and it would be good for you to take a break from your constant responsibilities, don’t you think?” She ran her hand along Robert’s arm. “And you work so hard. You must take care of yourself.”

  Robert took hold of Amelia’s shoulders with both his hands and said, “My darling sister, do you ever think about our parents?”

  Amelia seemed surprised by his question. “Occasionally.”

  “I remember their exuberant passions. They shared so much and had such extensive appetites and passions for exploring life. Of course, it was tragic that they met their ends so early, but they died following their mutual love of adventure.”

  Robert went to a globe standing on a library table. He spun it and stopped it suddenly with his finger which landed on the continent of Africa.

  “I saw father do this often. His imagination was fired by the prospects of adventure as was our mother. They had a true marriage of deep mutual interest and hunger. And I want nothing less for myself. Can you understand that? Marriage for me is not about bloodlines and social status. Or weekend parties, balls, or being seen at the races. It is about explosive hunger and thirst for life. It is about the quest for exploring the unknown—digging deeply into other cultures, regions, and peoples.”

  “And I very much doubt that the bloodless, washed-out maidens you are presenting to me will be able to rise to the occasion when it comes to marching through swamps, scaling a tree to see the far horizon, or eating sheep’s eyes at a Berber feast while sitting cross-legged on the floor of a tent. And unless you can find me such a lady, then I suggest you save your time and energy, for I shall never consent to marry the feeble specimens you have been presenting to me.”

  Amelia stood with her mouth agape.

  “Am I making myself perfectly clear?”

  “Yes, Robert.”

  “But it will not keep you from trying, will it?” He asked, amused.

  “Probably not,” she responded, equally amused.

  “Then you must excuse me, for I must write about the Old Sow whirlpool I saw swallow up a small boat off Moose Island near the coast of Eastport, Maine during my trip to the Americas.”

  * * *

  Robert wandered through the gallery of statues that ran across the axis of the house. There was a vaulted glass ceiling that lit the gallery and the marvelous collection of statuary that his family had collected over many generations. He particularly liked the late period Greek statues with their realistic poses of action caught in time—a javelin thrower, a couple of wrestlers in combat, and his particular favorite, a youth looking over his shoulder as he ran.

  Robert was so accustomed to his home he rarely stopped and appreciated what fine treasures the house possessed. But after his conversation with his sister about his passions, he realized that he was neglecting the very things at home that he raved about wanting to explore abroad.

  Balfour was considered one of the great houses of England. It was situated at the end of a narrow valley, nestled up against a series of low hills. The valley opened up like welcoming arms as it progressed away from the house. Of course, the lake was the central feature of the valley with many statues, pergolas, and follies punctuating the woodlands and hills. A large Roman temple was at the far end of the lake, and in summertime, it was used to host champagne and bathing parties for those guests who liked to swim or paddle in the lake.

  The ground floor of the house contained the formal entertaining rooms while the first and second floors were reserved for the family and their houseguests. Across a section at the back of the house stretched a long and elegant conservatory where many tropical plants grew and thrived.

  This is where Robert was headed when he stopped to admire the statues in the gallery.

  He had been patient for two days, but now it was time to visit Miss Diana once again, and he thought it would be unexpected to take her an orchid from his vast collection. Orchids were his particular favorites and he used to spend many hours cultivating, breeding, and trading orchids with other enthusiasts.

  Robert continued on his way to the conservatory. He entered from his favorite sitting-room and went to admire his collection.

  “Good morning, Milord,” his gardener, who tended to the orchids, greeted.

  “Stanson, how nice to see you again. I am afraid I have been negligent of my beauties lately. How are the fine ladies doing?” Robert asked.

  “They are doing well. But I would be lyin’ if I said they did not miss you.”

  Robert laughed and gave Stanson a pat on the shoulder.

  “I need a gift for a special lady. What have you got for me to fit that bill?”

  “Aye, sir. We got a very fine and elegant epidendrum just coming into bloom that might do just the trick.”

  Stanson led Robert to a table with several fine blooming plants with small sprays of orange, gold and yellow blooms.

  “And very fine specimens they are,” Robert said. “I think that one would be just perfect. Will you prepare it so that I might carry it on horseback?”

  “Certainly, Milord.”

  While Stanson prepared the orchid for travel, Robert stood admiring his fine collection. He realized that since his travels and writing, he had neglected his hobby, but wanted to reconnect with his passion and promised himself to take an afternoon, as soon as possible, to study and work with these beautiful plants again.

  Chapter 8

  Diana was helping her mother sweep, dust, and wash the windows in the gallery. They tried to find one day each week to keep the gallery looking its best.

  “I think I should go to London to meet with Mrs. Hardy to discuss the wedding, don’t you?” Mother asked as she wiped the picture frames with a dust cloth.

  “That would be nice. But should we not go together? And what about Father? Might it not be a good idea for the two families to meet all together?”

  “We should certainly do that, but for practical wedding planning it is best for just the two mothers to meet with the prospective bride.”

  “Whatever you think is best,” Diana said listlessly.

  Mother stopped and looked at Diana. “Are you certain you want this marriage? You do not seem to be very enthusiastic about the wedding planning.”

  “Yes, Mother, I want the marriage. And you know why it must be,” Diana said with a discreet nod.

  Mother sighed. “I certainly hope you know what you are doing. Now, Adam is a very fine lad, and I know he has prospects, but this marriage does not seem to excite you like it should.”

  Diana stopped sweeping and looked at her mother. “I am very fond of Adam. And while I must admit to a lack of burning passion, I know we are well suited for one another and I can foresee a happy and successful marriage…”

  “Eventually,” her mother added. “But not right away. Is that what you mean to say?”

  “Something like that,” Diana said as she resumed her sweeping.

  The small bell rang as the gallery door opened and Robert walked in carrying a most beautiful potted orchid.

  “Good day, Milord,” Mother greeted. “Are you here to see my daughter?”

  Robert removed his hat. “I am. If it is not inconvenient.”

  “Hello, Robert,” Diana said after putting the broom away.

  Robert held the orchid before him. “And this is for you, as a thank you for taking the time to consider my offer.”

  “My goodness, what a beautiful plant. We have never had an orchid before. You must instruct me on its care,” Diana said.

  “I shall.” He handed her the plant and she placed it on a table by the window where the plant would receive full sun.

  “Have you had sufficient time to consider your answer for
me?”

  “Let us go to the house so we can speak comfortably.” She turned to her mother. “Will you excuse us?”

  Mother nodded, and added, “There is a new bottle of sherry on the sideboard in the sitting-room—if there is to be a celebration,” she winked as they left the gallery.