Second Chance Love: A Regency Romance Set

by Wendy Lacapra

  Amelia sighed in relief. “May I see them, please?”

  “What for?”

  For the first time Amelia became aware of the real fear in Mary’s voice. “I need them to clear my name, Mary. People have said very bad things about me and Lord Carrington. I want to prove they are not true. The letters will do that.” She looked beseechingly at the frightened woman. “Will you help me, Mary?”

  Wringing her hands, Mary looked away from her, her distress mounting. “If I give you those letters, she’ll know I told someone. She’ll stop the money she sends each year.”

  “Money to pay for your son’s upkeep?”

  Mary nodded. “She’s sent it like clockwork each year on Johnny’s birthday.”

  “I saw him in the yard. Your son’s very like him, isn’t he?”

  Nathan frowned. “Like who?”

  “Jonathan…Lord Carrington.” Sighing, Amelia wound her arm through Nathan’s. “That was the child he was asking after before he died.”

  “So who has been paying Mary to be quiet about her son all these years?”

  “Lady Carrington, I suspect. She was always a high stickler and I suppose she believed that if she paid Mary to be quiet, no one would ever hear about her son’s indiscretion. Everyone assumed I’d had the child of whom he spoke, which put the blame squarely on me.” The bitter taste in her mouth made her ill. “Jonathan was never censured, even though he was believed to be the father.”

  “The ton would think it bad form to revile the dead.” Nathan put his arm around her. “Mary, may we have the letters please?”

  “But I’ll be in a bad way if she stops the money, my lord.” Tears were again trickling down the woman’s face. “I have no way to support us here.”

  “Do not fret, Mary. I believe I can insure that Lady Carrington does not miss a single payment for your entire life.” Her husband’s calm voice drew Amelia’s attention.

  “What scheme do you have in mind, my dear?”

  “A little friendly persuasion, my dear, that may kill two birds with one stone. Mary, the letters if you please.” At his sharp command, the woman hurried toward the desk.

  “I only saved his letters, my lady.” She drew out a sheaf of papers, dark yellow with faded writing. “They were something of his, you know? I couldn’t read them, but I could hold them and know that once he’d held them too.” She handed the bundle of letters to Amelia. “I was carrying his child when I came to London. He said we could see each other more often if I was in town.” She ducked her head. “He said even after he got married, we could be together if I was discreet. But then he died.” The heartbreak in her voice was pitiful. “I didn’t know what to do, so I had my aunt tell Lady Carrington. She came to visit me the once, after Johnny was born. She told me to come back here, to Toot Hill, to say nothing to anyone about the baby, and she would take care of us.”

  “And I promise you, Mary, she will continue to do so. Let me take care of those, my dear.” To Amelia’s astonishment, Nathan plucked the letters out of her hands. “I also promise that when we have no further use for these, I’ll be sure they are returned to you, Mrs. Carr.”

  “Thank you, my lord. My lady.” Mary wiped her eyes again.

  “Goodbye, Mary.” All her illusions about her memories of Jonathan now crumbling about her, Amelia wanted nothing more than to flee the cottage before she burst into tears herself.

  “Good day, madam.” Nathan doffed his hat and led Amelia out of the cottage into the morning filled with sunshine.

  Once they had gone a ways down the lane, Nathan dropped the letters to the ground, swooped her up in his arms and twirled them around until Amelia’s head spun.

  “Nathan, stop. What are you doing?” Her stomach had become decidedly queasy all of a sudden.

  “I am celebrating our victory, my love.” Laughing, he continued to spin around.

  “Well, you had best put me down or I will cast up my accounts all down your backside.”

  With a final chuckle, he set her on the ground, where she wobbled until the ground stopped moving. “So you believe these letters will allow us to regain my reputation?”

  “I do.” He grinned and recovered the letters.

  She frowned. “But you haven’t even read them yet.”

  “I don’t need to.”

  “Nathan, what are you planning to do with them?”

  “Pay an unexpected visit to an old acquaintance of yours. I guarantee you, she will help us recover your reputation.”

  “Lady Carrington?”

  “Lady Carrington.” He put his arm around her. “Come my love.” He kissed her with so much passion her legs went wobbly again. “Your life in Society is about to begin again.”

  EPILOGUE

  Dancing a waltz with her husband, the handsomest man in the room, should have been the most thrilling experience in Amelia’s life. She and Nathan twirled and spun, surrounded by a dozen other couples, lost in each other’s eyes. Her first ball as hostess had been an immense undertaking, with a startling amount of work, but gazing around the room she had to admit it was a tremendous success. Half the ton had been invited and from the looks of the full ballroom, almost all had attended. Considering it was the Little Season, with many of the aristocracy still in the country, tonight should be considered a triumph. Yet something was missing.

  The music ended and she and Nathan sauntered off the dance floor, stopped several times by acquaintances eager to wish them happy, albeit belatedly. That mattered not at all to her. The ton’s newfound approbation of her and of their marriage was the only thing that counted. That and one thing more.

  Nathan led them to a somewhat secluded spot behind a potted fern and pounced, first kissing the slope of her neck, then sliding down toward the more dangerous territory of her breasts, threatening to overflow her bodice. “Nathan, stop. I have just recovered from one scandal, I do not mean to be at the center of another should we be found out.”

  He groaned, but complied, lifting his head and staring at her with miserable stormy-gray eyes. “Amelia, I have scarcely seen you these past weeks while you were preparing for the ball. I miss you in my bed.”

  “I miss you as well, my love. But this is neither the time nor place to make up for missed opportunities.” She’d been so exhausted from endless lists of things to be arranged for this ball she’d only been able to fall into her bed at night, asleep before her head hit the pillow. Out of concern for her welfare, Nathan had not disturbed her, with the result that they both desired one another with an intensity that crackled whenever they actually met. She’d like nothing more than for them to be able to slip away and act on their desires and let passion reign. But not until much later tonight. After the ball.

  Her husband had continued to kiss her neck, making her, as always, hot and oh, so ready for him. She closed her eyes, savoring his attentions. Perhaps they could slip away to her chamber for just a few minutes. In their state of need, a few minutes would likely be all it would take to satisfy them temporarily. And there was the other thing she needed to take care of as well.

  “Lady Ainsley.”

  The unexpected voice startled Amelia and she jumped, pushing Nathan away.

  He stumbled but recovered, shaking his head. Glancing at the woman who had interrupted them, he smiled broadly. “Ah, Lady Carrington. You are not leaving so soon I hope?”

  “I’m afraid I must, Ainsley.” The woman’s mouth was pinched now but had been only smiles an hour ago when they’d received her publicly. “I am not as young as I used to be.”

  “None of us is, my lady.” Amelia smiled carefully. She could never forgive the woman for allowing her reputation to be called into question when she could have proven the truth of the matter. Nevertheless, when confronted with the letters and the information that they knew about Mary Adams and Johnny, Lady Carrington had proved quite cooperative in helping to restore Amelia’s reputation. “So I will bid you a good evening.”

  “I as well, my lady.” Na
than executed a precise bow. “We thank you for all your assistance.”

  With the briefest of curtsies, Lady Carrington shot one parting glare at them before turning on her heel and leaving.

  “Well, I will shed no tears to think she’s gone.” Amelia grabbed Nathan’s arm and pulled him back behind the fern. “I would not want her to put a damper on tonight’s festivities.”

  “I cannot see how she has done that, love. She has worked hard to make amends and assure you of a glorious turnout for your ball.” He kissed her fingers, always a precursor to the most exciting lovemaking.

  “I wasn’t actually thinking of the ball, but more of a private celebration.”

  His brows went up and he grinned. “I have managed to persuade you to accompany me to our apartments for a quick tryst?”

  “Not exactly.” She cupped his face and brought him down for a swift kiss. “I wanted to tell you later when we were alone, but I simply cannot wait.”

  “What is it love?”

  “This.” She took his hand and pressed it to the slight swelling of her abdomen. “I am carrying your child. I suppose thirty is not too old after all.”

  “Amelia.” He lowered his head and stared at the spot where their hands overlapped. The completely dumbfounded look on his face made her laugh. “But when?”

  “If my calculations and those of the midwife are correct, most likely on our wedding night.” She gave him a rueful smile. “Apparently it was a good thing we didn’t anticipate it after all, or we might have had some explaining to do. It will be a close call as it is.”

  “I don’t mind explanations.” He gathered her into his arms and kissed her thoroughly. “But I prefer demonstrations.” Grabbing her hand, he tugged her toward the doorway to the rest of the house.

  “Where are we going?” Amelia let him pull her along with only token resistance. It had been too many days since she’d been alone with her husband.

  “Your bedchamber.”

  “But Nathan—"

  “You promised me a private celebration.” His eyes darkened, love and desire forming black pools where gray had been moments before. “And I know the perfect place.”

  THE END

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Major thank yous to my beta reader and editor, Alex Christle without whom most of my books would be much the poorer, and to Ella Quinn for answering all my myriad questions and keeping me on the straight and narrow Regency path. You ladies rock!

  Sneak Peek…The Widow’s Club

  The war years are behind them.

  The future is before them.

  And one by one, the widows of Lyttlefield Park are getting restless . . .

  Lady Charlotte Cavendish is still the spirited girl who tried to elope in the name of love. That dream was thwarted by her father who trapped her into a loveless, passionless marriage. But now widowed, Charlotte is free to reenter the giddy world of the ton—and pursue her desires. For hardly your typical widow, she remains innocent to the pleasures of the flesh. Yet her life is finally her own, and she intends to keep it that way . . .

  Nash, the twelfth Earl of Wrotham, is beguiled by Charlotte at first sight—and the feeling is mutual. When he receives her intriguing invitation to a house party, the marriage-minded lord plans to further their acquaintance. But even he cannot sway her aversion to matrimony, and only with great restraint does he resist her most tempting offer. For unbeknownst to Charlotte, the misadventures of the past are revisiting them both, and bedding her could cost him everything—or give him everything he ever wanted. . .

  Widowed by the Battle of Waterloo, the ladies of Lyttlefield Park are returning to London society—with their futures in their own hands . . .

  The widowed Lady Stephen Tarkington, Fanny to her friends, has finished mourning her cad of a husband and is ready to enjoy her freedom. The kind of freedom neither a gently bred miss nor a close-watched wife is permitted: dressing up as Aphrodite for a masquerade, drawing gentlemen away from the party, and hinting at late-night assignations with her dance partners. All is going pleasurably according to plan—until the Roman god Fanny kisses during a masquerade turns out to be Matthew, Lord Lathbury, whose proposal she refused years ago . . .

  Lathbury is charming, passionate, inventive, everything Fanny wants in a lover—but unfortunately, he’s on the hunt for a wife. He’s more than willing to use all his wicked skills to persuade her back to the altar, but he can’t wait forever. And now Fanny’s position is more precarious than she once thought. If the tongues of the ton set to wagging, it’s possible no offer in the world will save her from ruin. But does she want to be saved? . . .

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Jenna Jaxon is a multi-published author of historical romance in all time periods because, she says, “passion is timeless.” She has been reading and writing historical romance since she was a teenager. A romantic herself, Jenna has always loved a dark side to the genre, a twist, suspense, a surprise. She tries to incorporate all of these elements into her own stories. She’s a theatre director when she’s not writing and lives in Gloucester, Virginia with her family, including two very vocal cats.

  A PAN member of Romance Writers of America, Jenna is also an active member of Chesapeake Romance Writers, her local chapter of RWA. She has four series currently available: The House of Pleasure, set in Georgian England, Handful of Hearts, set in Regency England, Time Enough to Love, set in medieval England and France and most recently The Widows’ Club, also set in the Regency. The first two books of the series, To Woo A Wicked Widow and Wedding the Widow were released this year in both print and e-book by Kensington Publishing. The third book of the series, What a Widow Wants, released in mid-December.

  Jenna currently writes to support her chocolate habit.

  A Letter from a Lady

  Cynthia Sterling

  A LETTER FROM A LADY

  Deserted by her husband, Lady Clarissa Delaware has opened her home as a respite for ailing gentry, but her newest lodger is a mystery man who seems far too interested in her. Will dangerous intrigue and forbidden passion unite Viscount Adam Kendrick and Lady Clarissa in a bond sure to cause scandal?

  Other Titles by Cynthia Sterling

  Titled Texans Book Series

  To Love a Lady, Titled Texans, Book One

  Educating Abbie, Titled Texans, Book Two

  The Runaway, Titled Texans, Book Three

  *

  A Willing Spirit, A Ghostly Romance

  Loving the Outlaw

  A Letter from a Lady

  Copyright © 2019 Cynthia Sterling

  All rights reserved.

  Dedication

  To Ann,

  who is such an inspiration for me.

  PROLOGUE

  “It’s what you wanted, ain’t it, m’lord?”

  Adam Kendrick, Viscount Morgan, considered the single sheet of writing paper the man known as Dirty Tom had proffered. A fine feminine hand filled the page, the words writ boldly, as though the passion in them had driven their writer to bear down on the pen. Mine own dearest husband, he read. How long the nights stretch when we are apart. How empty my arms without you to hold. I lie here beside the place where you should be, my head full of the words I should say when we are together. But when you are with me, words flee, and I turn timid. Love makes me mute, my lips silenced by your kisses.

  Adam smoothed his hand over the carefully penned words. What would it be like to have a woman love you that way, so that her whole being seemed poured out onto the page of her letter? He gave Dirty Tom a sharp look. “Are you sure this is from DeLae?”

  Tom squared his shoulders. “Filched it from his trunk meself, when he was in his cups. It’s got his real name on it, see?” he leaned over and stabbed a dirty finger at the address at the top, Lord Delaware.

  Adam dropped his gaze to the signature at the bottom of the page. Your Clarissa, Waverley House, Sussex.

  “It’s what you were after, ain’t it? Something to prove who this DeLae
chap really is?” Tom cackled. “A titled gent and all. Who’d have thought it?”

  Adam slid the letter into the top drawer of his desk and folded his hands in front of him in a deceptive appearance of calm. “When you were with DeLae, did you see a boy with him? A lad of eighteen, with dark hair and eyes?”

  Tom nodded. “I saw the young gent, but only for a bit. He was with another of DeLae’s bunch, outside in the wagon yard whilst DeLae was inside drinkin’ his fill.”

  A pulse throbbed at Adam’s temples. He took a gold sovereign from his purse and handed it to the man. “Very well. You may go.”

  Tom squinted and rubbed the coin between his thumb and forefinger. “Well, now, m’lord, seems to me that letter ought to be worth a bit more, seein’ as how it was written by a lady and all. And how it contains such tender sentiments.” He moved closer, lowering his voice. “Might be the woman in question might not like knowin’ a stranger is readin’ words meant personal like.”

  Adam scowled. The man made him sound like the basest sort of voyeur. With barely contained fury, he pinched a silver sixpence from the moneybag and tossed it across the desk. “Out of here, before I throw you out.”

  Tom blanched at the menacing tone, and backed toward the door. When he was gone, Adam took out the letter again. The monogram at the top of the page depicted a stylized W over a wavy line. Remember, while we are apart, you carry my heart with you, he read. How had a scoundrel like Jacques DeLae, nee Jared Delaware, won such a woman?

  But then, how had his brother Devon ended up with the man? Adam laid the letter aside. What would lead a young man from a good family to take up with a gang of smugglers and thieves?