Lord Runthorne's Dilemma: A Regency Romance

by Steele, Sarah-Jane

  “No,” she continued. “I do not think I need to hear it again. There is no doubt in your mind that Alice is my daughter? Thank you.” She swept past him to the door where she stopped.

  “Thank you for accepting without a shadow of a doubt that I have a child, thank you for showing me the high esteem in which you hold me.” Elizabeth laughed. It was a sharp, brittle laugh. “Forgive me, my lord, if I do not swoon with happiness. Good day.”

  The door shut with a quiet click, but the sound seemed to reverberate through him. He slammed his fist into the wall.

  “Damnit, damnit all.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Elizabeth poured a cup of tea and carried it across to her aunt, who thanked her with a smile. She glanced around the drawing room. Dinner had been quieter than usual with Miss Lacey barely saying a word except when directly addressed.

  Elizabeth had kept her attention on her plate whilst Mary and Charles appeared to need nothing more than each other for amusement.

  Only Mr Compton, who was again dining with them, had exerted himself to entertain the company. Even he had eventually fallen silent.

  The tense atmosphere had followed the ladies into the drawing room, making Elizabeth feel peculiarly sensitive to the others in the room.

  Lady Delphine took a sip from her cup and grimaced as though she was forcing herself to drink poison. Miss Lacey sat at her mother’s side, her cup untouched. Mary, too, was uninterested in her tea, appearing content to stare into the middle distance, a smile on her lips.

  At least one lady in the room was happy, Elizabeth thought, taking a sip from her own cup.

  Miss Lacey was looking mutinous and Lady Delphine seemed furious as she whispered in her daughter’s ear.

  Elizabeth tried not to eavesdrop, but it was hard not to overhear the angry tirade.

  “I do not understand you, Aurelia,” Lady Delphine was saying. “He is the most eligible bachelor available at the moment. He will give you a title, a comfortable home, status. What more do you want?”

  Miss Lacey gave a one sided shrug. “You just do not understand,” she said, her lower lip protruding dangerously.

  “No I do not and if you step back from this marriage, I shall wash my hands of you.” Lady Delphine sipped her tea, her expression saying more plainly than words that she expected her daughter to bend to her will.

  “Perhaps it would be better if you did,” Miss Lacey said, standing suddenly.

  “How dare you speak to me like that? I tell you, my girl, I have done more than any mother could to foster this marriage.” Lady Delphine’s voice was an agitated whisper.

  Elizabeth turned her head away but could not avoid hearing Miss Lacey’s hissing response. “I assure you I know exactly what lengths you have gone to and I do not appreciate it.”

  Miss Lacey swept past Elizabeth. “I hope you find yourself suitably amused,” she said and Elizabeth flushed.

  Picking up her sewing from the basket at her feet, Elizabeth bent her head and selected some ribbons. Carefully she threaded a needle with some silk and stabbed her needle through the edge of the cap she was decorating for her aunt.

  She felt a prickling on her spine and knew that James had entered the room.

  “Perry, do come and take some tea,” Miss Lacey said, her voice light and teasing. Elizabeth glanced at her, surprised by the change in her.

  “Perhaps you should offer your betrothed some tea, rather than Mr Compton.” Lady Delphine’s tone was equally light, but there was a brittle note in her voice that did not escape Elizabeth.

  “I am sure Elizabeth would be more than happy to take over my duties,” Miss Lacey said, her lips stretching in a parody of a smile.

  “I would not dream of usurping your position,” Elizabeth said, calmly.

  “No?” Miss Lacey stepped forward and twitched the sewing out of Elizabeth’s hands. “How charming,” she said, placing the cap on her head. “What do you think, my lord? Once we are married should I make such a confection?”

  James raised a brow, his eyes penetrating. “Hand it back,” he said. His voice was soft but it sent a chill down Elizabeth’s spine.

  Miss Lacey danced a step. “But surely this is what you expect of me.”

  “Please, Miss Lacey,” Elizabeth said. She had to stop her taunting James.

  “Really, Aurelia,” Lady Delphine interjected, “I am sure that dear Runthorne would not expect you to embroider your own caps. There will be a maid for that.”

  “What do you say, my lord? Shall I have a maid to decorate my caps? Another to arrange my gowns?” Miss Lacey’s eyes were suspiciously bright.

  “I think you should calm a little, Aurelia,” James said. Elizabeth shivered.

  “But you do not answer, my lord,” her voice had changed. Gone was the light, taunting tone, now she sounded almost desperate.

  Elizabeth watched, horribly fascinated as James took out a handkerchief and brushed an invisible speck of dust from his sleeve. Even Mary and Charles were focused on him.

  “If you must have me repeat myself, Aurelia, you know that you will have no need for fancies. I am sure you are a competent enough seamstress to sew your own caps should you wish for such fripperies. With some application I have no doubt you will manage to dress yourself modestly, I see no need to engage the services of a maid in either capacity.”

  “I say, sir, no.” Mr Compton, who had remained silent so far, erupted. His face had turned a dangerous shade of red and his neck strained at the collar.

  Even Mr Lacey appeared less than happy at the future proposed for his daughter.

  Lady Delphine laughed. “Oh, Runthorne, you are funning.”

  “I assure you, I am doing nothing of the kind. Aurelia will live very quietly at Cragburn.”

  “Cragburn?”

  “You see, Mother? I told you what he was like, but you would not listen. I cannot marry such a man.”

  “I am sure there has been some misunderstanding,” Lady Delphine said.

  “Enough.”

  Elizabeth jumped.

  Mr Lacey stood and strode towards James. “Understand me, my lord,” he said. “I, and I alone, am in a position to give my consent to this marriage. I will not have my daughter treated like some serf. You will apologise.” His chins trembled slightly and Elizabeth saw him pale at the glance James sent him, but he stood firm.

  A shocked silence fell. Nobody had ever heard Mr Lacey communicate in anything other than grunts and his angry speech startled them all.

  “Hear, hear.” Typically it was Mr Compton who broke the silence. “Apologise, my lord.”

  “I fear I cannot do so,” he said, his voice almost too soft to hear. “You may have allowed her much licence, Mr Lacey, but as my wife she will bend to my will.”

  Elizabeth did not believe what she was hearing. This was not James. It was Lord Runthorne and he was a stranger to her.

  Mr Compton took a position next to Miss Lacey. “You, my lord, are no gentleman,” he said, damningly.

  Lord Runthorne gave a minute inclination of his head. “You may well be correct, Mr Compton, but I will be Aurelia’s husband, something you appear to have forgotten.”

  Miss Lacey bristled. “That remains to be seen,” she said. “I will have you know, my lord, that whilst you may have a grand title, Mr Compton has more decency in his little finger than you have in your entirety.”

  “You are becoming tiresome, Aurelia.”

  “Tiresome?” Miss Lacey’s voice rose. “How dare you? I will have you know, my lord, that, were you the last man in the world, I would never marry you.”

  Lady Delphine shrieked and collapsed back in a faint.

  Lord Runthorne smiled a cold smile. “If that is your decision Miss Lacey, then I have nothing more to say to you.” He bowed and left the drawing room.

  It was then that Elizabeth realised she had stabbed her finger.

  ***

  Runthorne closed the door behind him and sighed. It was as though a hug
e weight had slid from his shoulders. Elizabeth might still despise him, but he had shown her that he was true to his word. Aurelia had publicly refused to marry him and he was free.

  Now all that remained was to ensure that she would not change her mind. Mr Compton was the key to that.

  As though his thoughts had conjured him, Mr Compton slammed through the door.

  “You, my lord, are…”

  Runthorne watched with interest as the other man struggled for words. “Not a gentleman?” he offered eventually. “Yes, you have already said so.”

  “Beneath contempt,” Mr Compton said, at last.

  “I stand corrected.”

  Mr Compton’s face grew alarmingly red and, for a moment, he considered reassuring the other man. Then he remembered the role he was playing. “Do you want anything or do you just intend to stand there like a beached carp?”

  “How dare you,” Mr Compton growled. “I do not care for myself.”

  “No, I do not care for you either,” he said. Mr Compton’s flush deepened.

  “I do not care for myself,” Mr Compton repeated, “But I will not have you insult the sweetest, kindest lady it has been my honour to meet.”

  Runthorne affected a moment of puzzlement. “Do you mean Aurelia?” He infused as much amused contempt as possible into his voice.

  “Indeed I do mean Miss Lacey. She is a lady of impeccable virtue whose feet you are not worthy to kiss.”

  Runthorne pretended to admire his heavy signet ring. “Ah well,” he said, affecting a yawn, “I must remember not to kiss her feet when we are married.”

  “I think you forget, sir, that Miss Lacey has withdrawn her agreement to your betrothal. It is a decision that I can only applaud.”

  Runthorne smiled and shook his head. “Do not concern yourself, sir, Aurelia will settle down. She will not be able to resist the thought of being a marchioness, whatever the privations involved.”

  Mr Compton seemed to double in size from indignation. “Such things will not weigh with Miss Lacey. She is an angel, far above such mercenary considerations. I should meet you for that slur.”

  “Do not trouble yourself,” he said, thoroughly enjoying himself now. “I would never fight a duel over such a trifling matter.”

  “You consider Miss Lacey’s good name to be a trifling matter?”

  Runthorne wondered how much provocation the man would take before exploding. “Mr Compton,” he said, patting the other man’s shoulder, “I believe you misunderstand the matter. Miss Lacey is no different to any other gently bred lady. She will marry for money and status.”

  “You are despicable.”

  “Yes, we have already ascertained that.”

  “For two pence I would marry her myself to save her from you.”

  He smiled. At last Mr Compton was doing as he intended. “I am sure you can try,” he drawled. “However let’s make it interesting. Fifty guineas says you cannot woo her from me.” For a moment he wondered if he had gone too far.

  Then Mr Compton nodded.

  “If it would save her from your devilish clutches I would wager my entire fortune.” Mr Compton turned smartly on his heel and re-entered the drawing room.

  “Not all,” Runthorne said. “You will need that to keep her in silks.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Sun beat down on Elizabeth’s head and, despite the shading brim of her bonnet, she had to narrow her eyes against the light. She had wrestled all night with her confusion over Lord Runthorne. It would appear that he had been true to his word. He was now free to marry her.

  Or so he believed.

  Elizabeth rather thought Lady Delphine would have something to say to that. There was another problem, too. Could Elizabeth bring herself to marry him if he thought she was Alice’s mother? Her head ached. She hesitated a moment then, although she was not quite sure why, she walked across the lawn towards the lake.

  Laughter rose towards her telling her that she was not the only person to find the lake attractive on such a hot day. She slowed her steps then stopped under the shade of the trees.

  Standing by the lake was Alice, her face turned up towards Lord Runthorne.

  He had discarded his coat and had rolled up his shirt sleeves. His arms were very brown against the white of his shirt. Elizabeth licked her suddenly dry lips. The muscles in his forearms tensed as he drew back his arm and let a stone fly, skipping across the lake. It bounced three times before it sank, sending circles of ripples out to the edge of the lake.

  Next to him Alice laughed and clapped.

  Elizabeth stepped out from the shadow of the trees. “Alice,” she said. Her eyes kept straying to Lord Runthorne’s strong arms, indecently bared, and she felt a betraying blush mount in her cheeks.

  “Miss, you’re still here.” Alice jumped up and down. “I thought you said you had to go away.” She skipped towards Elizabeth and flung her arms around her waist, burying her head in Elizabeth’s side.

  Elizabeth returned the hug. “My plans changed,” she said. “But what are you doing here, sweetling?”

  “I was walking home and Mr Runthorne saw me and thought I might like to see a trick.”

  Elizabeth raised her brows. “Mr Runthorne?” An involuntary smile twitched her lips.

  Alice nodded. “Yes, he asked me to stop calling him ‘My lord’. He said he is tired of everyone ‘toad eating’ him, so I was not to stand on ceremony.”

  “Did he?” She glanced at him. “That is interesting.”

  Lord Runthorne grunted, sounding embarrassed.

  “Miss, what’s ‘toad eating’? I mean why’d anyone want to eat them? Yuck!”

  “I will explain another time.”

  To Elizabeth’s slight relief and considerable disappointment, he snatched up his coat and put it on. She met his eyes and blushed deeper. From the expression in his eyes he knew exactly what she was feeling.

  “I think you should hurry home,” she said to Alice. “Mrs Turner will be worried.”

  Now Lord Runthorne grinned. “I was going to escort Miss Alice home,” he said, extending his hand to the child. Alice released Elizabeth and placed her hand trustingly in his.

  Elizabeth felt a sudden and surprising stab of jealousy. “You should be careful, Alice,” she said, more sharply than she intended. At the child’s startled glance she added gently, “it is not always wise to take people at face value.”

  “But you said Mr Runthorne was the best man you had met.”

  “Did you indeed?” He was laughing at her. Again Elizabeth had the unnerving sensation that he could read her mind.

  “Even I have been known to be wrong,” she said.

  He bowed a little as though she had touched him in a duel. “Perhaps, then, Elizabeth you would care to chaperone Miss Alice. That is if you believe I can be trusted with your good self?”

  Elizabeth gritted her teeth. He was playing with her, but she had to speak to him privately and if this was the only way she could see him alone, so be it.

  “Of course,” she said, taking Alice’s other hand. She tried to keep her voice light, pretending it was a game. “So, my lord, what did you think you were doing last night?”

  “Last night? I had a most relaxing sleep. Why? Did you have another activity in mind for me?

  “I meant,” Elizabeth said, through gritted teeth, “your behaviour towards Miss Lacey.”

  “Then perhaps you should have questioned my behaviour yesterday evening.”

  “You are pedantic, my lord.”

  “What does pedantic mean,” Alice said, swinging between them.

  Lord Runthorne laughed. “I think I will leave that answer to you, Elizabeth,” he said and would not say another word on the walk into the town.

  ***

  Runthorne grinned. Elizabeth was fuming. Her eyes were sparkling with suppressed fury and her cheeks were flushed. He half wished that they were flushed for another reason but at least her anger showed that she felt something for him. Nor had
he missed the way her eyes had strayed to his bare forearms. All in all he was quite pleased.

  He glanced down at the child skipping by his side and his smile softened. Once Elizabeth saw he was serious about Alice her foolish principles would vanish and she would marry him.

  He glanced over to Elizabeth and his conviction wavered. She was smiling at Alice’s chatter but, when her eyes flicked towards him, her smile dropped to be replaced by a frown.

  They walked at a steady pace with Alice occasionally running ahead to forage for nettles and, with a cry of delight, some mallow.

  “Hold these for me, please sir,” she said.

  Runthorne grinned and accepted the bunch of purple headed flowers. “They are very pretty,” he said. “They will brighten your home.”

  Alice put her head on one side. “Silly,” she said and giggled. “We are going to eat them.” She plucked a young leaf and offered it to him.

  “Thank you, Miss Alice, but I am not at all hungry.”

  Alice shrugged and popped the leaf in her mouth.

  “Coward,” Elizabeth murmured, but Runthorne decided to ignore her.

  The walk was pleasant but all too soon they passed from the fertile countryside to the dusty town and arrived at Alice’s home. He was struck again by the shabbiness of the street. Alice’s home stood out as one of the neatest, but even there he could see signs of neglect.

  “The landlord does not see fit to make minor repairs,” Elizabeth said, as though sensing his surprise.

  “I assumed Captain Maybourne was the landlord.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “If he were, the entire street would be in better condition. He is something of a philanthropist.”

  Mrs Turner bustled out of the door and dropped a curtsey. “Oh, Miss, my lord, I am so sorry. Alice you are a tiresome child, I have been watching for you this past hour.”

  Runthorne let Alice’s hand go so the child could run inside. “Please do not be hard on her, Mrs Turner,” he said. “It was entirely my fault that she has been delayed.”

  “Oh, I’m not angry,” Mrs Turner said. “But I do worry about her, my lord.”

  “Your care for her is obvious,” he said. He glanced at Elizabeth. Perhaps this was the moment he had been waiting for. If he showed Elizabeth how little Alice’s parentage mattered to him, surely she would soften.