The Runaway Chaperone: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Alice Kirks

  “Yes,” Alexandra said, grinning at the way he said that. It was so wonderful to finally acknowledge how she felt! She had struggled to hide it and it felt so good to be able to acknowledge it aloud, at last. She sat down.

  “I thought we could all go to the park today,” Matthew said. “I mean if you’d like to come. Of course, you’re coming with me, as part of the family. Not that I ever thought of you any other way.” He added with a shy grin.

  Alexandra felt her heart thump. “I never really thought of myself as anything else, either,” she admitted. They both shared a smile.

  They ate breakfast – pastries and jam – drank tea and talked for what felt like hours. Alexandra frowned as the butler came in just as they were about to go to the drawing-room.

  “There’s a visitor, your Grace.”

  Matthew and Alexandra looked at each other. Matthew hadn’t mentioned any callers. Alexandra was ready to assume it was someone for Arabella, but Matthew seemed tense.

  “Who is it?” he asked. “Is he still waiting?” His voice was stern.

  “It’s the Earl of Westerly, your Grace. He is waiting but says it’s urgent.”

  Matthew looked at Alexandra, who suddenly felt as if she might collapse. She gripped Matthew’s hand. Suddenly, she could imagine that face – so stern and distasteful – and she felt as if the confident young woman that she was had suddenly turned into a fearful, mistrustful child, waiting to be punished for something.

  “Please, Matthew. I can’t…”

  “You don’t have to see him,” Matthew said quickly. “I will explain things.”

  Alexandra looked up at his face, so tender and caring, and felt her strength return, her spine straightening. She was not a small, frightened child who believed nobody loved her. She was a talented, wise young woman who knew that she was worthy of love.

  “I’ll come down,” she said to Matthew.

  He took her hand, eyes shining, and squeezed it. “I’m so proud of you,” he said.

  Alexandra blinked, feeling tears prick her eyes. She had never heard anyone say those words to her. She looked up at him and nodded, not able to find words for what she wished to say.

  Matthew took her arm supportively, and together they went down the stairs.

  There was a man waiting in the hallway. Alexandra didn’t look at him at first: she didn’t want to look at him and see that sneering, disdainful face from her girlhood; the one for whom everything was inferior.

  “I wonder why you are calling on me,” Matthew began, just as Lord Westerly cleared his throat. A tall man, spare and angular, his gray eyes pierced one from a gaunt, scowling face.

  “I am calling on you to return my daughter to me!” he said sternly. “This ridiculous game has gone on for too long. I don’t know which of you organized it, but you will answer to the Regent! You have ruined this young lady, and now she is an outcast.”

  Alexandra felt her legs weaken. She could remember that tone so well…condemning, mocking. She was five years old again and being reprimanded for standing at the wrong time during a dinner. Or spilling her glass of cordial on the tablecloth. Or laughing at the wrong moment…

  “Outcast?” Matthew said. His voice was hard. “What exactly do you mean by that? That is a strong word.”

  The Earl made a small coughing sound that Alexandra recognized as his laugh. He never laughed at anyone’s jokes but reserved that sound for when somebody did something he needed to quell with ridicule. She felt suddenly as if she was seeing him with terrible clarity; as if the telescope had been turned around and the great giant of a man was suddenly shrunken and tiny and no threat at all.

  He hides behind that veil of scorn, casting shame around so that nobody can see his weaknesses.

  She felt almost sorry for him. He cleared his throat.

  “She’s ruined! Nobody’ll touch her now. Might as well send her straight to a nunnery…only place that’ll have her now.” He looked away.

  Alexandra felt hot tears reach her eyes, tears of absolute anger and shock. Ruined! How could she be? And how could her own father speak of her as if she were soiled goods? Maybe she was?

  “You will never say that again,” Matthew said. He spoke very softly, but each word carried force and Alexandra herself shivered. Her father looked at him blankly.

  Even he looked scared for a moment. Then the scorn returned.

  “Why?” he asked, chuckling as if it were some fine jest. “Because the man who ruined my daughter tells me off?”

  Alexandra felt Matthew stiffen, fists at his sides. She thought for a moment he might attack him, but after a moment, Matthew spoke.

  “No. Because I am going to marry Alexandra. And you are not a welcome guest in our house.”

  The Earl stared. Alexandra saw him grow pale. Then his cheeks reddened and that nasty, cruel look came into his eyes. She held Matthew’s hand tightly.

  “She’s already betrothed, you know,” he said. “I arranged something. She has lied to you, I think…she cannot back out of this arrangement.”

  Alexandra felt as if he had hit her. How dare he try to lie to Matthew? But what if Matthew listened to him?

  “I know Alexandra,” he said softly. “You are the liar. She ran away before the betrothal occurred. She explained that to me, and explained the nature of your arrangement, which I think will be very easy to undo, since it was never firm in the beginning, yes.”

  Alexandra felt her heart thump. She looked up at Matthew, who was standing perfectly calm, one elbow resting on the railing of the stairs. He was looking at her father with such a cold expression that she half-expected the man to freeze right there.

  “Well, then,” the Earl said. His voice rasped. “I suppose, since you all have it worked out, I might as well just leave. Don’t think that the viscount is going to take this lightly, though. You cannot go around insulting other nobles, your Grace, without expecting someone to challenge you with pistols.”

  Alexandra drew a breath. She hadn’t even considered the possibility that someone would challenge Matthew! That seemed like something the viscount would do, and her heart twisted painfully, thinking of that. Matthew cleared his throat.

  “I don’t mind,” he said lightly. “Tell him, if you will, that the Duke of Blakeley is eager to meet with him. I think my reputation might put him off.”

  Alexandra felt wonderment course through her. She watched her father, his face twisted with disgust, turn away. She felt no fear for him anymore; no more than she would have felt for a broken, dirty creature that scavenged at the butchery.

  She looked up at Matthew. Matthew looked at her. He took her hands and frowned, concern instantly on his face. He had looked so cold that she herself had been afraid, but now he was back to his ordinary, sweet self and she held his fingers tight in hers as she looked into his gaze.

  “Are you all right?” he asked gently. “Come, let’s go upstairs. Mr. Leighton can bring us some tea. You need to rest, now. And sit by the fire.”

  Alexandra let him take her hand, though she wasn’t feeling that weak or frightened.

  “I’m all right, Matthew,” she said softly. She sat down at the chaise-lounge and looked up at him. “I’m not frightened anymore. Oddly, I don’t think I’m frightened of him at all, anymore.”

  Matthew smiled.

  “That’s good,” he said softly. “That’s so good.”

  Alexandra nodded. She recalled something that Matthew had said earlier, and a small smile lifted the corner of her mouth.

  “Um…Matthew,” she said softly. “I didn’t know you had a reputation.”

  He went red, a faint flush creeping up into his cheeks. He looked away, clearly shy. She grinned to herself and he shook his head, smiling.

  “Well, not really. I suppose, yes. I am quite good at duels – though I have never actually had to fight one. I just have quite a reputation as a swords-man and a shot.”

  “I see,” Alexandra said, and she grinned. It seemed there were new thi
ngs for them to discover about one another every single day.

  “So,” Matthew said softly. “I think we needn’t worry about him anymore. Do you think we should go and find Arabella? She seems eager to plan for the week ahead.”

  Alexandra felt light flood her heart and she nodded, a small smile lifting the corner of her lips.

  “Yes,” she said softly. “I think that would be a fine idea.”

  They went up to find Arabella in the drawing-room and Alexandra felt such joy and relief in her heart as she thought about the fact that she had confronted her father and she no longer needed to fear him. The wounds would slowly heal, and she felt like she had walked down a long path and was now in a warm valley, full of flowers and greenness.

  She slipped her arm up to where Matthew had bent his elbow to take it, and they walked up into the warmth and sunshine.

  Chapter 42

  Alexandra looked at her reflection. She looked away, blinking. Was that really her?

  “There you are,” Brenna said with a grin. “As pretty as a fresh daisy.”

  Alexandra grinned at Brenna, who was carrying the veil and a bouquet of flowers.

  She smiled at her shyly. “You think so?”

  “Of course, you are! Now, come here and let me help put the veil on. A shame, to cover that lovely hairstyle…but it won’t be for long,” she added, resting the wreath on the elaborate chignon of Alexandra’s hair. The sides had been left down, arranged in wide curls that flowed onto her shoulders in a wash of shadow. She looked at herself again.

  “I still don’t believe it.”

  She was clad in a dress of white silk, the fabric decorated with tiny white designs of a slightly different shade. Her hair was mostly loose, flowing down to the low oval neckline, and her arms were shown by the sleeves of the gown, which reached just above the elbow and were see-through, the fabric was so fine.

  “So,” Alexandra said, feeling her heart start to thump nervously as Brenna finished arranging her hair. “What time will we leave?”

  Brenna grinned. “Oh, you needn’t fret, my Lady. We can leave in an hour if we wish it. No, we have plenty of time for your hair to be fixed just right.” She slid in a hairpin to hold the wreath of orange-blossom. “And you can take this.” She passed her the bouquet. It was late in the season, and they had to take the few flowers that were still blooming. Alexandra lifted the white bouquet to her nose, breathing in the fragrance.

  She looked up as Brenna walked over to the other side of the room to fetch something. Soon, in a matter of minutes, she would be downstairs in the coach, going to the village-chapel.

  She took a deep breath and stood as Brenna finished the last finishing touches, then went downstairs. As she went down, she heard a cry and Arabella ran up the last few steps, a bundle of pink satin.

  “Alexandra!” she said, stopping just before she threw her arms around her. “Oh! You look so lovely! I can barely believe how beautiful that dress is on you!”

  Alexandra took her hand, looking into that gentle face.

  “You look beautiful too, Arabella,” she said. Her young soon-to-be-sister had her hair arranged in ringlets, the color of the gown a perfect complement to her chestnut-toned hair.

  “Thank you! Oh, we must hurry to the church! Matthew is already there, waiting.”

  “Lady Arabella,” Brenna teased gently. “There is no rush. The bride is supposed to be a little late. All in good time.”

  Arabella grinned. “Well, we’re perfectly on time.”

  Alexandra nodded and Arabella walked down the steps to the coach with them. She felt a tingle of excitement as they were helped in, and then the door was shut, and she and Arabella looked at each other.

  “I’m so excited!” Arabella exclaimed. “Oh! Alexandra! I wanted a sister just like you always! And now I really have you.”

  Alexandra took her hand, feeling her heart melt. She hadn’t expected such a sincere and loving statement and it touched her deeply. She nodded, sniffing.

  “I am so glad too, Arabella…so very, very happy.”

  They both sniffed, then giggled and hastily batted away their tears, lest they spoil their appearance for the rest of the day.

  At the church, Alexandra let Lord Albert take her hand. In the absence of her family, he had agreed to play the role of senior man and walk her to the front of the church. She took his hand shyly and he bowed low.

  “My Lady, I am honored,” he said.

  Alexandra blushed and he took her hand and walked her in and round the darkened apse of the church. At first, her eyes still becoming accustomed to the darkness, Alexandra looked around, feeling a little nervous of the people sitting in the pews, most of whom were Matthew’s relatives or part of the household, and most of whom she didn’t know. Then, focusing on the point of light coming through the high arched windows, she spotted Matthew at the front and all her fear dissolved.

  He turned around and smiled at her and her heart melted as she looked into that handsome face. He was dressed in dark brown velvet, and with his straight back and chestnut hair brushed till it shone, he looked stunning.

  The priest opened the book as she reached the end of the aisle, but she barely heard him clear his throat. She was thinking only of the warmth and closeness of the man standing beside her, the joy and delight she felt that made tears spring to her eyes as she looked up at him warmly.

  The ceremony seemed short, to her. It seemed barely a minute before he was looking at her, reading out the vows.

  “I do,” Alexandra said softly. She felt her heart fill with warmth.

  She looked at the priest, as he repeated the vows for Matthew. She heard how he replied, the certainty in his voice resonating deep in her soul.

  “I do.”

  The priest smiled at them happily, and then closed the book, after a brief concluding of the ceremony. He beamed at the congregation, and Alexandra felt the warmth flare in her heart. She looked up at Matthew.

  “You may kiss the bride,” the priest said.

  Alexandra felt him bend to press his lips to hers and she stood, still, waiting with such an intensity of feelings that she couldn’t name them all as he bent forward and carefully, so gently, pressed his lips to hers. Her lips parted, receiving his kiss briefly. He took her hands in his and looked into her eyes and she felt joy as bright as a flame kindle inside her as he smiled.

  They walked down the aisle together, hearing the congratulations of the congregation, Arabella’s voice high above the others as she ran to them outside the church, taking both of their hands, delight in her smile. Matthew squeezed her fingers softly, then tossed the coins for luck to the waiting townsfolk, and then carefully helped Alexandra into the coach.

  “I love you,” he whispered as the coach rolled away, moving with a slow pace towards the manor house.

  “I love you, too,” Alexandra whispered and took his hand and knew that she would love him until the end of her days, forever and ever, because a love had grown between them that nobody and nothing could ever challenge. They were happy in ways that they had never thought possible before.

  The coach rolled slowly down the road, back to the hilltop.

  Epilogue

  Alexandra looked around the drawing-room. She was waiting for Matthew, and she could hear a footstep in the hallway.