“You can’t treat her as a possession, Sutton. She’s not a prize. She’s a woman.”
The words coming out of his mouth surprised Tony. How had he come to find himself giving his bête noire advice on the woman he had stolen from him?
The same thought must have occurred to the earl, for he said, “You truly do not want her back, do you?”
“No, I don’t.” And it felt very good to say it.
* * *
Tony’s dinner was cold by the time Sutton left, but he was more ready than ever to start his epistle to Virginia. Sharpening his quill, he thought about what he wanted to say. Once he began, the words flowed.
Larkspur House
London
My dear Miss Livingstone,
Can you ever forgive me for doubting you, for bullying you, for driving you away from London into such a precarious situation?
I have treated you most ill, and have no reason to expect that you will think well of me. My behavior has no excuse, except for the violence of my feelings for you. Those moments we shared under the tree in Hyde Park were the culmination of what seemed to be weeks of attraction and admiration on my part. That they were followed in such short course by false accusations can only reflect my dismay and unnatural fear that you had betrayed me.
Perhaps it will explain my actions if I tell you that I was recently betrayed by another and was therefore especially sensitive on the matter. But you yourself gave me no reason to suspect you, except perhaps for the distress that I had observed in your manner.
Now I know that the blackguard Sagethorn was imposing on you. He was no government spy but rather a mercenary seeking to further his own ends. You said you thought you recognized him. So did Commander Saunders. He was an impressed seaman on the Intrepid. The stolen papers were found in his possession, and he has been taken up by the magistrate. You have nothing to fear from me or anyone else in that regard.
I admire you tremendously for your courage and determination as well as your kindness. For my part I can only say that there exists between us strong feelings, which both delight and terrify me. Never have I thought to feel so much for another. I find that I wish to build a future with you, wherever that future may be. I cannot fathom a life without you in it.
I love you, Miss Virginia Livingstone. I want to be by your side forevermore.
Yours truly,
Anthony, Viscount Strangeways
Tony was relieved once he had committed his thoughts to paper. Once he had begun to write, he became convinced of the ardent nature of those feelings he felt with body and soul. What would her answer be?
Letter in hand, he walked the short distance to Shipley House and placed it in the hands of Lady Ogletree, who promised to have it delivered that night.
Chapter Twenty
When Virginia woke the second morning in Blossom House, she noted the strength of sun streaming through the crack in the drapes and looked quickly at the clock on the mantel of her bedroom. It was noon!
She had been very tired after her journey but had been allowed only a few hours’ sleep the day before, due to the necessity that she attend the duchess’s luncheon. Now she stretched her refreshed body and welcomed the doggie kisses she received from a happy Mr. Hale, who had slept at the foot of her bed.
If only she were as carefree as her dog. The sense of betrayal she had experienced at the hands of Viscount Strangeways had only increased with her arrival back in London. The night before she felt it so sharply, she had confided it to the women she now thought of as “her angels”—Miss Braithwaite, Lady Clarice, and Mrs. Landscombe.
“How wretched!” Miss Braithwaite exclaimed. “Men are fundamentally unsound, I find. I have been glad on many occasions that I did not marry the Duke of Devonshire, but I did receive a lovely tortoise from him.”
“Perhaps the reason he reacted so strongly was because he felt you had betrayed him,” Lady Clarice reasoned. “I happen to know he was crushed when the Longhurst gel engaged herself to the Earl of Sutton after she had kept Tony on her string a year or more. That happened only a matter of weeks before you came, my dear.”
Mrs. Landscombe said, “In a more perfect world, this war never would have happened. Nothing like this would ever have come between you. I know it is not a popular view, but I disapprove strongly of these wars men seem to thrive on.”
Virginia had dragged herself to bed and slept heavily.
Nothing could ever have become of it. He is an English aristocrat. This just makes it easier for me to forget him . . . Would that it was so!
On this disconcerting note, Virginia climbed from her bed and rang for Sarah, whom she had sent for the day before, asking her to bring along some of her new dresses. It was past time she put in an appearance downstairs.
When the little maid came, she brought with her two letters on her tray of hot chocolate.
“What shall you wear today, miss?”
“I think I will try the black-and-white muslin.”
Virginia picked up the first of her letters. Who knew she was staying here? To her displeasure she saw that it was from her aunt.
Shipley House
London
My dear Virginia,
I wish to ask for your forgiveness. I was very mistaken in my nephew’s character and uncomfortable with your American citizenship. I have sent for your uncle to comfort you at this difficult time. I hope one day you will be able to see me in a more kindly light.
Sincerely,
Aunt Lydia
Virginia was beyond shocked. Her aunt was apologizing? She had sent for her uncle? She was mistaken in George’s character?
All of this seemed to indicate that she had not been aware of her nephew’s intent. Was she going to have to think again about her aunt? Could she return to Shipley House?
Perhaps if her uncle was there she could. It certainly wasn’t Miss Braithwaite’s and Lady Clarice’s responsibility to house her. But she felt so comfortable here!
Taking up her second letter, she frowned. Who could this be from?
When she unfolded it, her eyes went immediately to the signature—Anthony, Lord Strangeways. What could he have to say to her?
She should toss it on the fire. However, before she could, her eyes went up a line from the signature. I love you.
Heart pounding, she sank into the chair before her dressing table. Quickly reading the letter, she was overwhelmed with all the emotions it contained. She began again and read more slowly, stopping to think on each sentence.
The violence of my emotions. That calm exterior held violent emotions?
Culmination of what seemed to be weeks of attraction and admiration on my part. His feelings were like her own. In fact, he returned her feelings. This told her that what she had felt was real. Her heart began to pound.
That they were followed in such short course by false accusations can only reflect my dismay and unnatural fear that you had betrayed me. Betrayal. It was just as Lady Clarice had guessed.
Then followed the details about Sagethorn. She was not altogether surprised that the man was not a legitimate spy. His manner had been all wrong. In fact, looking back, she realized that she had distrusted him from the first.
I love you, Miss Virginia Livingstone. I want to be by your side forevermore.
He loved her! He was offering to return with her to America. What about his estate, his title? They barely knew each other. Wasn’t it too soon to be talking of such things?
Virginia’s mind whirled. She knew only that her heart was now pounding impossibly fast and that the barriers she had placed between them had melted. Oh, her Lord Strangeways had a wonderful way with words!
She folded the letter and placed it on her dressing table. She would carry it next to her heart once she had dressed. But for now, she must answer it.
Virginia spotted a quill and inkstand on the little desk in the corner of her room. In the middle drawer she found paper. She scrawled a quick answer.
I am
at Blossom House.
Yours truly,
V.
She folded the paper, sealed it, and addressed it to Viscount Strangeways, Larkspur House.
“Sarah? Could you take this downstairs to Pursley and see that a footman delivers it immediately? It is most urgent.”
Once Sarah had taken the letter, Virginia flew to the mirror. Would this dress do? Wouldn’t it be better to appear in a softer color? Light blue, perhaps? Or pink? She went to her wardrobe and considered her choices. When had she become so vain?
She flew back to the mirror and began unbraiding her hair. When Sarah returned, Virginia asked, “What do you think is the best way to wear it?”
The maid began to brush out her hair with strong, competent strokes. “Never mind, miss. I am very good with your hair, as you know. I shall do something lovely, and Lady Clarice has a large flower garden. I shall find a rose or camellia to put in it.” When Sarah had finished, she said, “You look beautiful, miss. The loveliest lady I have ever seen.”
* * *
Virginia watched Lord Strangeways enter the Sitting Room for Gentlemen Callers. He looked exceptionally handsome today, dressed in dark blue with his cravat tied in some sort of intricate knot. Smiling his half smile, he looked tentative, his handsome brow wrinkled slightly.
She got to her feet at once. “I received your letter.” How silly! Of course she had. “Obviously,” she added. “I don’t know what to say. I had no idea you were so eloquent!”
“Neither did I,” he said. “You inspire me.” He walked over to her and took her hands in his.
“We scarcely know each other,” she said. “Yet you . . .” She trailed off, afraid to put words in his mouth.
“Have declared myself in the boldest of terms. Tell me, was I wrong to do so? Do you not think you could love me?”
She bit her lower lip and looked at his feet. Her chin in his hands, he raised her head so he could see her expression.
“It makes me quite shy,” she said. “I have been persuading myself that these feelings I have would not do. You are an aristocratic Englishman. I am an American.”
“Let us sit down,” he said. “We need a proper discussion. I must convince you, for you are the most wonderful person ever to come into my life.”
Once they were seated on the pearl-colored sofa, he took her chin in his hands once again. “So those feelings you are convincing yourself not to have, are they the same as mine?”
“Y-yes,” she murmured, caught by the soft amorous look in his amber eyes. “From the very beginning, I have been partial to you, it seems.”
“Can you forgive me for bullying you? I am not inclined that way, I promise.”
In a small voice, she said, “I know about Miss Longhurst. Lady Clarice told me. You felt betrayed, didn’t you?”
He started to speak, then broke off, gazing at her in wonder. “You are so beautiful. And so guileless and kind.”
“You have not answered my question.”
“I felt betrayed, yes,” he said. “But not by you as much as by my own feelings. I too was caught from the beginning. And then when you were injured, well . . . I thought I should lose my mind, if you want the truth.”
“You didn’t think I was heedless for wanting to experience such a dangerous undertaking?”
“No more than I was,” he said, taking her hands in his once more. “I was very taken with your bravery.”
She smiled for the first time. “My mother was wont to despair of me, but my father always encouraged me.”
“I am sad that I shall never meet your parents.”
“As am I.” She kept to herself the question of their approval. What would they have thought of this aristocrat?
As though reading her mind, he asked, “Would they have taken to me, do you think? With my generations of noble ancestors?”
Putting her head to one side, she studied him. “I don’t really know. But, to be quite frank, they ran their estate with slaves. You, I understand, pay your workers.”
“Actually, they farm the land, and we sell the crops. Then they pay rent to me out of their share—when the crops are good,” he equivocated.
“Still, there is a difference.” She had given the matter a lot of thought. “I intend to free my slaves when I am of age. I will have to sell my plantation.”
He appeared to be struck by this. He raised both her hands and kissed them. “I salute you, Virginia. Where were you planning to live?”
“In Richmond, perhaps. Maybe Charleston. But my actions will not be popular among Southerners. They will put me beyond the pale.”
The viscount considered this. “I quite see that. Maybe you would do well to live in England for a time.”
“I miss my home,” she said, feeling the familiar ache. “But it will never be the same. My parents are gone; my house is gone. When I free my slaves, there won’t be anyone to work the plantation. I won’t belong there anymore.”
Seeming to sense her need of comfort, he gathered her to him, placing her head on his shoulder. “I can certainly understand that, darling. When the war is over, I should like to visit Virginia and perhaps tour the states, so I can know the place where you grew up.”
She pulled her head up and looked into his eyes. “You would? You would go to America with me?”
“I would be willing to live there for a time, if you would like that.”
“But your estate!”
“I intended to sell my father’s horse-breeding operation there, but Howie wants to run it. I could let him, with the provision that he oversees the planting and harvesting while I am gone. Until I have children of my own, he is the heir.”
She smiled. “Are we not getting ahead of ourselves?”
“I am trying to show you that my love for you is not an idle fantasy. I have thought it through. As I said in my letter, I cannot imagine living without you in my life.”
She put a hand to his smooth cheek. “And I have felt so torn. Do you really think it could work? Remember, in addition to everything else, I have a dog.”
He laughed. “The real question is: Do you love me?”
Gathering her courage within her, Virginia said, “I do. I do love you. I must. To be quite frank, Sagethorn did approach me to spy on you and your friends, but I refused. I chose you over my country, as I thought then. That should tell you something, my lord.”
“Tony,” he said. “I should never expect you to call me ‘my lord.’ Not with your Republican spirit!”
“Will that spirit bother you very much?”
“No. It is one of the things I love about you. But don’t tell my Tory friends.”
She laughed, and then he pulled her to her feet and kissed her. Again she felt as though her insides were melting. Virginia was very glad they had gotten all the sensible talk out of the way.
“Will you marry me, Virginia?” he asked.
“It is definitely a possibility,” she said. “I don’t suppose it would be proper for us to continue kissing this way otherwise.”
“You are correct, my love. It wouldn’t.”
He kissed her until her toes curled.
They didn’t even note the entry of Henry Five, who evidently considered himself their chaperone. The tortoise stayed near the door and studied the situation with great interest.
Epilogue
December 1813
The Morning Post
Yesterday, the wedding of Anthony Gibson,Viscount Strangeways, and Miss Virginia Livingstone took place in the chapel on the Southbrooke Estate in Kent. In attendance on the groom’s side were the Honorable Howard Gibson, Duke and Duchess of Ruisdell, Viscount and Viscountess Wellingham, and Lord Herbert Backman.
Virginia’s uncle, Lord Ogletree, gave her away in the presence of her Aunt Lydia Ogletree and her friends Lady Clarice Manton, Miss Susannah Braithwaite, Mrs. William Landscombe, and Miss Arabella Saunders.
The bride wore a gold gown and veil designed by Madame Bellon of London, and the honeymoon
is to take place in Dorset. The proceedings were considerably enlivened by the presence of Mr. Nathan Hale, a Republican canine of uncertain ancestry.
The End
* * *
Dear Reader, If this is the first book of mine you have read, welcome to my Regency world! This my eleventh Regency romance. The novel immediately prior to this one, Her Fateful Debut, tells the story of Lord Beau and Lady Penelope Wellingham. Other characters are sprinkled throughout my earlier books.
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Other Books by G.G. Vandagriff
Regency Romances
The Duke’s Undoing
The Taming of Lady Kate
Miss Braithwaite’s Secret
Rescuing Rosalind
Lord Trowbridge’s Angel
The Baron and the Bluestocking
Lord Grenville’s Choice
Lord John’s Dilemma
Lord Basingstoke’s Downfall
Her Fateful Debut
Spring in Hyde Park (anthology)
Genealogical Mysteries
Cankered Roots
Of Deadly Descent
Tangled Roots
Poisoned Pedigree
The Hidden Branch
Historical Novels
The Last Waltz
Exile
Defiance
Suspense
The Arthurian Omen
Women’s Fiction
Loving Roxie
Pieces of Paris
Nonfiction
His Mysterious Lady, A Regency Romance (Three Gentlemen of London Book 2) Page 19
