The Lord of Heartbreak (Reluctant Regency Brides Book 2)

by Claudia Stone

  "I broke her heart, so she broke everything else was what they said at the time. Rather witty, don't you think?" James asked through a mouthful of toast, though judging by his father's frown, he didn't find the moniker quite as amusing as his son did.

  "Let us not talk of the actress," the Duke said, picking up his tea and sipping it thoughtfully, "I wish to discuss Miss Deveraux, and how it is that an irresponsible, young buck like you could persuade such an intelligent creature to marry you."

  "It was just as you suggested, father, bribery," James quipped, quickly adopting a look of contrition as his father's eyebrows narrowed into a dangerous frown. "I jest, I jest. I think I simply wore down any reservations that Miss Deveraux might have had by being persistent. We spent a considerable amount of time together last summer in St Jarvis, and I think that in the separation that followed she realised that I had grown on her."

  "Like a fungus," his father chuckled, pleased with his insult.

  "Not like a fungus," James protested, wondering how best to phrase it, "More like a unwanted puppy that was foisted upon her, that she eventually became fond of despite herself."

  It was a rather good analogy and it seemed to placate his father, who harrumphed in a way that was neither satisfied nor dissatisfied. James suppressed a groan of irritation at his father's behaviour and wondered if he too would become a grumpy, old codger when he inherited the title.

  "And you?" his father glanced at him with penetrating blue eyes that were a mirror image of James's own. "What prompted you to propose? I've never known you to bother doing anything which wasn't completely self serving. Did you decide to exploit her feelings for you so that I wouldn't cut off your allowance?"

  "No," James responded, with more indignation than a man lying through his teeth truly deserved to feel. "I simply realised how precarious her situation has become, now that her brother has wed and she is no longer mistress of her own house. I hated the thought of her being unhappy so I decided—"

  "To rescue her?"

  James had never seen his father look so startled and he had also never seen the Duke look at him with that strange expression on his face. If he hadn't known the man for thirty years, he'd almost call it pride that filled his father's eyes, but surely not; the man could barely stand to be in the same room as him and had never been proud of anything James had done.

  "Well this is a turn up for the books," the Duke finally said, pushing back his chair to stand up. He was built like his son, with broad shoulders and an athletic frame; and while, unlike his son, the Duke's middle had given over to a slight paunch in recent years, he was still in possession of a figure that most men his age could only dream of. "I didn't think it was possible, but it seems you've found something that you care for more than drinking and gambling my money away. Cherish her, son. I'll visit the Archbishop and see about having the banns read."

  "The banns?" James croaked to him as he walked away, hoping that his face wasn't displaying the shock that he felt. "Already?"

  His father paused at the door and turned to look at him curiously; "Well they have to be read out for three Sundays before you can marry. I rather thought you'd be in a hurry to get it over and done with."

  "I am," James blustered, knowing that the tips of his ears were bright red, as they always were when he lied, "But I must speak with Jane and find out what she wants...and I have not yet spoken with her brother."

  "Why does that not surprise me?" the Duke rolled his eyes in annoyance, an act that James almost found comforting it was so familiar. "And I suppose you'd best tell your mother, heaven knows she'll want in on the organising of the event."

  Ah, his mother, Georgianna, Duchess of Hawkfield; she was the reigning queen of the ton and would rather make Jane a widow before she had a chance to get down the aisle, if her son did not allow her to orchestrate the most extravagant wedding imaginable. It would be loud, it would be brash, it would be the event of the season and, James realised with a jolt, it would be extremely tricky for either he or Jane to extricate themselves from their engagement once his mother got started. She was quite capable of frog-marching both parties to the altar at gunpoint in order to get her way.

  "Do I have to tell her?" his voice was almost pleading; he really hadn't thought this plan through.

  "Aye, you do," his father sighed, "And I shall have to write a letter to my accountant informing him of my imminent bankruptcy at her hands."

  With a resigned laugh his father left the room, leaving a queasy James staring after him. When he had made his plan he had thought that nothing could go wrong with it, but now he was beginning to realise that there was one rather large problem: his parents might not allow him to break the engagement and he might just end up wed to Jane Deveraux after all.

  It was well past two in the afternoon by the time that James arrived at the Deveraux's Berkely Square home. The houses on the square were all three stories, with white stone facades, each facing out onto the large gardens at the centre. James stood at the top of the steps which led to the front door, as he waited for someone to answer his knock.

  "Lord Payne," a most discreet, black clad butler eventually opened the door and ushered him inside. "I apologise for keeping you waiting, there has been a rather unexpected amount of callers this afternoon."

  "Really?" James raised an eyebrow at the butler's slightly flustered appearance; he supposed that the poor man had not had to deal with a plethora of visitors when it was just Jane who lived there. The new Viscountess probably had the house full of giggling, giddy debutants, for the poor man appeared exhausted.

  "I have never seen so much lace, in all my days." the butler confided in a whisper as he led James to the door of the drawing room. As he pushed the door open James peered into the room with trepidation, which was justified as he took in the sheer numbers of women who thronged the large, airy room. There was at least two dozen, he surmised, perched elegantly on chaise lounges and sofas, or hovering at the periphary, all with their eyes turned toward Jane, who looked most uncomfortable at the attention directed her way.

  "It's him!"

  A high pitched whisper caused each perfectly coiffed head to turn in his direction and James had the startling experience of learning what an actor must feel like on stage. Forty-eight, wide eyes were staring at him, twenty four rosebud mouths opened into O's of excitement.

  "Ladies," he gave a short bow and turned to Jane, "Miss Deveraux."

  "Oooh," collectively every young lady present sighed as James addressed his intended; he was almost certain that the curtains had swayed from the breeze they had created with their exclamations.

  "Lord Payne," Jane stood, a look of abject relief on her face. "How good of you to call. My brother wishes to speak with us in private—perhaps later, when..." She trailed off and cast a despairing glance around the room at the young ladies who were all listening to her, "Perhaps when all my guests have left."

  James bit back a laugh at her obvious discomfort at having so many callers; he supposed that Jane had never been embroiled in any scandal or gossip before, and had not experienced what it was like to have to whole ton descend en masse seeking to be entertained.

  "It's quite alright Jane," Lady Jarvis, who James had not noticed until she spoke, said in a waspish tone. "The ladies are here to see me as well as you, it's perfectly fine for you to leave."

  From the Viscountess's peeved tone, it was easy to deduce that she was more than a little bit put out by Jane's new found popularity, and from the looks of irritation that James witnessed on the visiting ladies' faces it was easy to see that Emily was wrong. Everyone was there to see Jane and not the Viscountess.

  "He's in his library," Jane whispered as she gestured for him to follow her to the door. James passed through the throng of ladies, whose eyes all followed his progress across the oriental style rug and followed Jane out of the room.

  "Lud." Once the door was shut behind them and they were both alone in the hallway Jane visibly relaxed —he could
actually see the tension leave her shoulders, which had been hunched and defensive.

  "How did the papers find out so soon?" she asked in a whisper, as she led him down a small corridor, presumably toward Julian's library. "I swear, the second the clock struck noon they all descended at the same time. I have never had so many ladies call upon me —actually, I have never had any lady pay a call on me."

  There was no hint of self pity in the last statement, only wry amusement and James felt a jolt of something wrack his body as Jane threw him a conspiratorial glace from beneath her spectacles. Her brown eyes seemed to visibly sparkle with gold when she was amused by something, it was most disconcerting.

  "I suppose there are some ladies who find the prospect of marrying a Duke very glamorous," he replied stupidly for his brain had turned to mush, only wondering after he had spoken if he had sounded rather pompous.

  Jane snorted at this statement and he realised that yes, he had.

  "They are to be pitied then," she whispered, pausing outside a closed door. "For in the ten hours or so that we have been engaged, I have found little glamour, my Lord. Only stress and vexation."

  "Have you been stressed?" A feeling almost like remorse filled him and he reached out a hand to take hers. His fingers brushed the lace trim of the cuff at her wrist, causing Jane to jump and look down at his hand in confusion.

  "Only a little," she glanced up at him, nervously chewing on her plump bottom-lip. "I said it mostly to jest, my Lord."

  "You can call me by my given name, now that we are betrothed," he said in response to the weak smile she offered him.

  "We're not really betrothed, though are we?" she replied in a low whisper, casting a nervous glance at the closed door. James was struck by a strange stab of something, that if he thought on it he would have realised was masculine pride, but he had never been one to think too deeply, and before he knew it he had responded.

  "You are my betrothed," his voice was lower than usual, almost a growl, "And as such I reserve the right to all the entitlements that come with that. Including hearing you call me by my name."

  "It's a faux betrothal," Jane whispered back, her cheeks flushed with annoyance, "We're not actually going to get married. We just need to do the bare minimum to convince everyone that it's genuine, until enough time has passed that your father is convinced you have changed your ways and one of us can cry off at the last minute."

  "Oh-ho," James cried, ignoring the flapping of Jane's hands that was intended to silence him. "If you're going to keep up your end of the bargain it will require more than doing the bare minimum. You will attend every ball I attend, you will dance every dance I ask of you and you will bloody well act like you're enjoying it."

  His breath was ragged as he finished speaking and judging by the alarmed look on Jane's face he must have been visibly bristling with the annoyance he felt. Which wasn't annoyance per se, more wounded pride that Miss Jane Deveraux was blatantly not enchanted with the idea of spending time with him. Which was ridiculous, for that was the very reason he had chosen her: he had wanted a fiance who would cry off at the last minute and not try to exploit their bargain for her own gain. Jane opened her mouth, with what would have proven to have been an equally angry retort, had the door for the library not opened and silenced her.

  "I thought I heard voices," Lord Jarvis said, peering between James and his sister with an expression of annoyance.

  "We were just about to knock, Julian," Jane replied, smoothing down the front of her dress with agitated hands. "I informed Lord Payne that you wished to speak with the both of us."

  "Yes, I do."

  James had never seen Julian look so churlish and he felt slightly nervous as his friend gestured for the two of them to enter his study.It was a large room, lined on three sides with mahogany bookshelves, which were packed to bursting with leather bound volumes. James wondered if his friend had actually read any of the books on the shelf, for they looked pristine, whilst his desk, where several decanters of various alcohols sat, looked much more used.

  "Take a seat," Lord Jarvis said, his dark eyes narrowed as he gestured to the two sofas which sat facing each other in front of the fireplace. James waited for Jane to sit, before perching beside her; close enough so that he could feel her body trembling slightly. He felt wretched as he watched her from the corner of his eye; she was wracked with nerves and it was all his fault.

  "I suppose I should have asked you first, Jarvis," James said as Julian sat down opposite them, his face a picture of brotherly disapproval. "But as Jane has passed her majority, she didn't need your blessing—though I hope you will give it?"

  "I would, if I was certain that this weren't some sort of joke."

  "A joke?" James glanced at his fiance in confusion; why would her brother think their engagement was a jest?

  "Yes," Julian's face was red with anger, his handsome features made less so by the scowl he wore. "If this is some kind of trick you're playing Payne, intending to humiliate me in some way, then know now that I won't stand for it."

  "How would my marrying your sister humiliate you?" James was flabbergasted by the accusation. He glanced at Jane for some sort of explanation, but her face was pale, her mouth a thin line of worry.

  "Oh," Julian growled, "I know that this is some sort of trick you're playing. Some sort of bet with all of those fools in White's. Find an ageing spinster and pretend that you're in love with her, or some such nonsense. I won't stand for it Payne, I won't let you humiliate me like this."

  "I rather think the only person who's humiliating you, is you yourself, Jarvis." A dark cloud of red had descended on James's brain; he was so livid with anger at the way that Jarvis had spoken of his sister that he was fit to slam his fist into his friend's smug face. "How dare you speak of Jane like that in front of me. I won't stand for it —and if I hear any word of you belittling her or ridiculing her again, then mark my words, I will call you out."

  James stood, his tall frame towering above the Viscount, who was watching him, his mouth open with astonishment. "I will have my man of business send forward the marriage contract —if you fail to understand any of the longer words in it, then I'm sure your sister will be able to explain them to you. Jane," he took a breath, to try to quell the anger that was coursing through his veins. "As ever, it has been a pleasure. My mother will be in touch about a small dinner to celebrate our betrothal."

  He turned on the heel of his Hessians and stormed out of the room; past the startled butler and two ladies who were departing to their carriages, who watched him with wide eyes as he stalked out into Berkley Square. It was only when the chill, Spring air hit him that he realised the enormity of the mess he had entangled himself in. He had threatened his closest friend with a duel for the sake of a woman's honour—a thing he had never imagined himself doing. It was an act that one would associate with a man in love, which James most certainly wasn't; though he was a much better actor than he had previously given himself credit for, for if he had witnessed himself in Jarvis's library, he would have called himself a lovestruck fool.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  "Oh, dear."

  Jane surveyed the cavernous dining room of Hawkfield Hall, which was thronged with people. There must have been at least two-dozen of society's most impressive people present, glittering under the light of the chandeliers. When the Duchess had sent the invitation she had included a small, handwritten note assuring Jane that the dinner would be a tiny, intimate affair where both women could get to know each other. Jane glanced nervously at the crowds of people and deduced that the Duchess's idea of intimate and her own differed vastly. She did not recognise any familiar faces among the crowd, bar Lord Payne, who was deep in conversation by the fireplace with a young, handsome man, and did not appear to have noticed her entrance. Her brother and Emily, both still thoroughly annoyed with her, had abandoned her the moment they had entered the room, leaving Jane standing in the doorway feeling rather out of place.

  "You must be J
ane."

  A small, bird-like woman of about five and thirty stood before Jane, her dark eyes dancing with mischief.

  "I am," Jane gave the woman, who looked vaguely familiar to her, a weak smile.

  "I am Caroline," the woman responded, tucking her arm through Jane's and leading her further into the room, "I'd like to say that I've heard all about you, but James has rather sprung this upon us all. I'd also like to say I'm surprised by his behaviour, but I've known James his whole life and there's very little my brother can do now to shock me—except..."

  The woman, who Jane guessed was James' sister Lady Caroline, looked at Jane curiously, her head tilted to one side, like a curious bird.

  "Except, I really wasn't expecting him to announce his betrothal to someone like you," she said, her brow furrowed as she surveyed Jane.

  "How do you mean?" Jane asked, wondering if she should have taken Emily's advice and left her spectacles at home. It appeared that even James' own sister thought her too dowdy for her handsome, younger brother.

  "Well," Lady Caroline looked a little embarrassed, her pale cheeks turning pink. "I wasn't ever expecting James to marry a woman that I would like. Oh, he's been so fond of empty headed, flibbertigibbets for years and when I heard he was engaged I was certain he would have picked a most unsuitable, green girl, fresh from the schoolroom. Then my father told me that it was you James was intending to marry and I was over the moon to hear it. Oh, I think we'll be fast friends Jane and I've always longed to have a sister. My husband Giles is involved with the Royal Historical Society and he's simply dying to make your acquaintance. Come, I'll introduce you both."