The Lord of Heartbreak (Reluctant Regency Brides Book 2)

by Claudia Stone

  Jane followed Lady Caroline and her husband to the open door and joined them at the top of the sweeping, granite steps, where they waited for Lord Payne and the Marquess to reach the top of the driveway.

  "This is quite the welcome party," James called happily as he dismounted his stallion, passing the reins to a footman who had leapt to attention at the sight of Hawkfield's heir. Lord Payne was in excellent spirits after the journey, a grin almost splitting his face in two. He looked most dashing, Jane conceded, his hair tousled, his coat abandoned in favour of a shirt, which was rolled up at the sleeves, revealing sinewy, muscular forearms that left Jane feeling a little queer. He was so masculine, his shoulders broad, his body hard and athletic —she had become so used to him that it was a part of him she overlooked, though seeing him now, she was at a loss as to how she had become immune to her fiance's rugged handsomeness.

  "It is lovely to see you Lord Payne," she finally said, her voice an octave higher than usual, "And you Lord Delaney."

  "Miss Deveraux," the Marquess gave a curt bow. Unlike his companion Lord Delaney looked completely unruffled by the ride to Hawkfield Hall. His clothes were immaculate, as though he had just been dressed by a fastidious valet and there was not a hair out of place on his head. Like James he was tall, but unlike James his manner was cool, almost glacial.

  Lady Caroline fussed about the new arrivals and once everyone was collected together in the hall, she arranged for Mrs Hughes, who had returned, to show Jane and Belinda to their suite of rooms.

  "Put Miss Bowstock in the lavender room," she instructed the housekeeper, then turned, her fine, porcelain features a picture of confusion. "Where has she gone?"

  "I'm here," Belinda squeaked, her face pink, as she stepped out from behind one of the marble pillars. She kept her eyes to the floor as she made her way over to Jane, apparently too afraid to look up. Jane could understand why, for the seemingly unflappable Marquess of Falconbridge had suddendly turned scarlet at the sight of the blonde haired young lady.

  "Follow me," Jane whispered to her flustered companion, slipping her arm through the crook of Belinda's elbow, "I'll help you to our rooms - and when we get there you are going to have to do some explaining."

  The guests did not meet again until much later that evening, when a large supper was held to welcome them. Jane arrived at the dinning room feeling much refreshed after a bath and a long nap. The long journey in the carriage had left her sore, even though the Viscount's vehicle was modern and well sprung. It seemed to have affected the Viscountess as well, for Julian stated, with a little annoyance in his tone, that Emily would not make it down for the meal.

  "Is she alright?" Jane whispered, worried for the younger woman, who was usually loathe to miss a chance to socialise.

  "She's fine," Julian shrugged, sipping deeply on the glass of wine he held in his hand, "She's just being childish, nothing more."

  Goodness, Jane started, for she had never heard Julian speak of his new bride with anything other than slavish devotion in his voice. She hoped that whatever was brewing between the pair blew over quickly, for though she was not overly fond of Emily she did want her to enjoy her weekend away from town.

  The other guests began to trickle in, the Marquess of Falconbridge among them. Jane saw him scan the room, looking for Belinda, though her companion had pleaded a migraine and, like the Viscountess, had decided to stay in her room. Jane glared at the immaculately clad Marquess, who stood aloof at the edge of the room. Belinda had told her that he had given her a mighty dressing down in Montagu House, for touching the ancient Roman urns, and that was the source of the tension between the two. Honestly, what a pompous, arrogant man the Marquess was.

  The door opened and Jane's heart leapt with excitement as Alastair and Harry Dalton entered the room. Alastair was dressed in what Jane knew to be his best attire, an old-fashioned suit coat over dark breeches. She couldn't help but compare him to the James, whose clothes were always the height of fashion, but felt a stab of guilt at this treacherous thought.

  Of course James wears nicer clothes, she chided herself, he's next in line to be a Ducal title for heaven's sake! Alastair was not a wealthy, he had given his life over to his studies and that in itself was a hundred times more admirable than a wardrobe from Saville Row.

  "Miss Deveraux," Harry Dalton gave a wide smile and walked over to where she stood, "I believe you know Mr Jackson."

  "Hello Mr Dalton," Jane said, "I do of course know Mr Jackson. Gentlemen allow me to introduce my brother, Lord Deveraux, Viscount Jarvis."

  The men exchanged handshakes before Julian wandered off to find a servant to refill his glass. Jane nibbled her lip nervously; if he continued to drink at the same pace, he'd be well in his cups before the first course was served.

  "Did you travel down together?" Jane enquired, directing her question to Alastair, who for some reason was staring at the other side of the room.

  "Indeed, we did," Harry Dalton said, after it became clear that his companion was not going to answer Jane. "It was kind of Lady Caroline to invite us. The Duke has been generous enough to sponsor so many of my trips, I feel greedy having him feed me as well when I return."

  "I am sure he would not sponsor you Mr Dalton if he did not believe that your explorations were mere fanciful adventures."

  "I do acquire him a few treasures along my way," Dalton conceded, with a charming smile. "Alastair is hoping that the Duke might take an interest in his own studies, and perhaps fund his return to South America."

  "So soon?" Jane gasped; surely he would not leave her again, when they had barely had a moment together.

  "There is very little to keep me in England," Alastair responded, finally meeting her eyes with a cool, dismissive glance.

  Before Jane could respond that she was reason enough to stay, the Duke and Duchess arrived and the guests were seated at the table. Throughout the first course she kept glancing across at Alastair, hoping to catch his eye, but he stared resolutely at his plate, obviously wishing to avoid her.

  "Have you visited Hawkfield before Miss Deveraux?" the Marquess, who was seated to her right, asked politely.

  "Never," she shook her head as she took a small bite of the broiled chicken on her plate, "And you, my Lord?"

  "Quite a bit during my childhood," Falconbridge responded easily, "Though I have spent much time abroad and have not visited in many years. It is nice to return and even nicer to see that Payne has finally settled down."

  The last sentence was delivered in a dry tone and Jane could see that the Marquess was resisting rolling his eyes. They were quite opposite, Lord Payne and he. Where James radiated energy and good humour, the Marquess was cool and aloof. Everything about him seemed highly controlled —which made Belinda's tale of him having lost his temper with her quite unbelievable. The man seemed completely unflappable.

  As the third course was served Jane looked up and caught Lord Payne gazing at her with an expression that was akin to longing. She felt her stomach flip as she registered the gentle warmth in his eyes. Don't be ridiculous, she thought with annoyance, it's not longing, it's probably just indigestion. Though as platters of cheese and grapes were set down before the assembled guests, signalling the end of the meal, she caught him gazing at her again. Perhaps he's drunk, she thought, as she nibbled on some cheddar. Though she quickly placed the cheese back on her plate, for her appetite had disappeared at the strange feeling that bloomed in her stomach each time she caught Lord Payne's eye.

  Indigestion, she repeated firmly, wishing she believed herself.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  "Thus far, sister dear, your plan for Jane to fall helplessly in love with me has fallen flat on its face," James grumbled. He and Caroline were walking side by side, leading the guests on an excursion through the vast grounds of the Hawkfield estate. The day was unusually warm for early summer, and Caroline had decided that an impromptu picnic by the lake would be much preferable to a day of hunting for the men and shopping in
the village for the ladies.

  "Well that's because you're walking beside me and not your intended," Caroline replied easily, "How is she supposed to submit to your charms, when you're wasting them on me? Though if grumbling is the height of witty banter you can offer poor Jane, then I don't blame her for choosing to walk alongside Mr Jackson."

  James bristled with annoyance at the mention of the wretched man's name. At the beginning of the walk Jackson had lagged behind the group, and James had been startled to see that Jane had adopted the same pace. The group was nearly at the lake and the pair had been deep in conversation for the past twenty minutes, oblivious to all around them.

  "Dalton told Giles that Mr Jackson is hoping father will sponsor him to go back on his trip to the South Americas," Caroline confided in a whisper, throwing a coy glance over her shoulder at the entomologist. "If you drop a word in father's ear, I'm sure he'll agree to it and then Jane will be free of him."

  "I don't want to win by duplicitous means, Caro," James grumbled, "I want Jane to give me her heart because she loves me, not because her first choice disappeared to chase worms around a jungle."

  Caroline sighed and James knew it was because she thought that he was being overly competitive —which he was. He loved to win, because winning meant that he was the best. When it came to Jane he wanted her to choose him because in her eyes he was the best option—the only option.

  "Here we are," he called, as the group rounded the corner. Before them the ground sloped downward, leading to a calm, freshwater lake which was filled with trout. The servants had laid out the picnic and a few footmen were standing discreetly by the blankets, in case they were needed.

  "Such a beautiful view," James heard Miss Bowstock exclaim, "If only I had brought my sketchpad."

  She might have forgotten her drawing pencils, but Miss Bowstock had remembered her King Charles Cavalier who, upon sniffing the picnic went tearing across the grass, with the hapless Belinda running behind him, calling for him to stop.

  "Oh, dear," Jane cried, "She'll lose her bonnet running like that."

  "That would hardly be a tragedy," Lord Delaney drawled.

  James stifled a snort, for the Marquess was quite right; it truly was the most hideous hat. The group watched in awe as Jane's prediction came true and Miss Bowstock's bonnet went flying off her head toward the lake. The young woman halted in her tracks, her head swivelling toward the dog, who was intent on reaching the picnic and her hat, which was now floating on the surface of the lake. She obviously decided that lunch was more important, for she tore after the dog again, whilst the Marquess heaved a sigh and headed in the direction of the lake.

  "Oh, dear," James heard Jane whisper again, as she watched the Marquess step into the shallow water. "He'll ruin his boots."

  "Unlikely," James gave her a smile, "They're leather, and I have known Delaney for long enough to know that he'd never risk ruining a pair of good boots."

  This seemed to mollify Jane, who turned and gave him a smile. It was like standing directly in the sun's rays, James thought, returning her grin with one of his own.

  "My dear, the servants have been up all morning preparing this luncheon," he stated grandly, tucking her arm into the crook of his, "And I don't mean to pressure you, but there are several footmen taking notes for the cook on if the future Duchess of Hawkfield enjoyed the meal."

  "Really?" Jane whipped her head around to stare suspiciously at the innocent footmen.

  "Not really," James laughed, "Though they will notice if you eat nothing. Then they will tell cook, who is French and quite temperamental. He will have a minor fit and threaten to quit. Then none of us shall eat for the rest of the weekend."

  "I fear the duties of a Duchess would be too much for me," Jane laughed, "Thank goodness I will never have to shoulder the burden."

  "I don't know," James replied lightly, though for him his response felt anything but light, "I feel you'd do an admirable job as Duchess."

  A part of him wanted to make a joke to ease the uncertainty that crossed Jane's face at his serious tone, though he refrained. He wanted her to sense how serious his intentions toward her had become.

  "Well then I shall have to try a little of everything, my Lord," she finally responded gamely, squaring her shoulders as though going into battle and not to a picnic.

  "I've told you to call me James," James halted their stride, turning to gaze down at her. "I like the sound of my name coming from your lips. I have never heard a sweeter sound."

  "Really, my Lord, you are being ridiculous."

  James relished at the blush which slowly began to stain Jane's cheeks, she was completely, totally and utterly charming when she was flustered. It made a lovely change to the usual calm, steady way that she dealt with him. A wicked thought, that he would like to tease her until the blush crept all the way down to her decolletage, sprang to mind —though he pushed it reluctantly away. There would be plenty of time for that later, when they were wed.

  "Here come the two love-birds," Caroline called, as he and Jane joined the group by the blankets which had been laid under the shade of a copse of ancient oaks. "You nearly missed the food, you were too busy making cow eyes at each other."

  "I was not making cow eyes," Jane looked startled at the accusation, "Lord Payne and I were merely discussing..."

  She trailed off, and James had the pleasure of watching her grapple for something to say.

  "...Jane's future responsibilities as Duchess," James supplied, and she gave him a grateful glance.

  "Oh they'll be manifold and utterly tedious," Caroline said cheerfully, beckoning the pair to sit down on the blankets, "Though I'm sure James will make it up to you in other ways."

  This entendre raised a chuckle from her husband and James, though grateful to his sister, felt slightly nauseated as the pair shared a secret smile.

  "Allow me to serve you," he whispered in Jane's ear, rising lightly to his feet and fetching two plates, which he piled high with strawberries, cold meats and bread. When he returned, much to his annoyance, he found Miss Bowstock seated beside Jane, so close that she was practically sitting in her lap.

  "My Lord," she smiled at him, and continued to smile inanely, her head turned at an awkward angle. James spotted the Marquess directly behind her shoulder, glowering at her, and guessed that this was why Miss Bowstock was acting so strangely.

  "I apologise Miss Bowstock, I did not fetch you a plate," James stated, feeling as though he had walked into a play halfway through. What on earth was going on between Jane's companion and Delaney? He hadn't known that the two were even acquainted and yet here Delaney was, glaring daggers at him for daring to speak to Belinda.

  "I shall fetch Miss Bowstock a plate," the Marquess said gruffly, standing to reveal that his breeches were soaked to the knee and that his boots were utterly ruined. The sorry looking bonnet that he had rescued sat beside Belinda on the blanket, it's ribbons soiled with muddy lake water.

  "Oh dear," she whispered to the the pair, once the Marquess was out of earshot, "I fear that Lord Delaney is a trifle upset over his boots —though I did not ask him to wade into the lake. He was quite right when he said that the bonnet was hideous, I only wear it because I don't own any others."

  "Hush Belinda," Jane reached out and gave the girl's hand a squeeze, "Don't pay any attention to the Marquess, I won't let him upset you."

  Indeed Jane looked rather fierce and protective; James truly believed that she would go into battle to protect her friend's feelings. If only she would do the same for herself.

  "Jane, dearest," the Viscountess called, her high voice carrying clearly, "Fix your bonnet, I can see the freckles on your nose from all the way over here."

  Jane said nothing in reply, merely pulled at the ribbons of her bonnet to show she had been listening.

  "I don't know why you let her speak to you that way," James whispered, his hand reaching out of its own volition to push the brim of Jane's hat back, so he could better see her
eyes. Which at that moment were filled with confusion at his overly familiar gesture.

  "What do you mean?" she asked in confusion. The re-arrival of the Marquess meant that James could not further question Jane on why she allowed her brother and his wife to bully her so. The Marquess handed Belinda a plate piled high with food, though the poor girl looked as though she were about to cast up her accounts as she took it from him. That would render his boots thoroughly ruined, James thought with wry amusement.

  The guests fell silent as they began to tuck into their lunch, the only sounds being the occasional exclamation on how delicious the food was. After they had eaten, Harry Dalton suggested a game of cricket.

  "We're about eighteen men short for a proper game," James grinned, though he readily stood up to play. The ladies remained seated, lounging on their blankets as they watched the men assemble into two teams of two, with Jackson opting to play the umpire.

  It was good fun and James became so absorbed in the process that he had not noticed that the ladies had wandered to the lake's edge, until a startled cry went up. He turned to see Jane picking herself up from the reeds, her dress sodden up to the knees.

  "Jane," he called, abandoning the game altogether and rushing to her side.

  "Honestly, look at you. You've ruined your new dress and embarrassed yourself in the process."

  The Viscountess stood beside her sister-in-law, offering no help but a tirade of insults as Jane clambered to the shore.

  "Are you alright?" James asked, taking Jane's arm and turning her toward him. He could see that her bottom lip was trembling and in her eyes he could see tears forming.

  "Come," he said, reaching out and hauling her up into his arms, "I'll have to get you back to the house before you catch a chill."

  Ignoring her protests he lifted her up, cradling her to his chest as he made his way back toward the house.

  "Honestly, Lord Payne, I am quite capable of walking," she protested, struggling slightly against his iron grip.