Engaging Love: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Abby Ayles

  “I hope that I have managed to convey to you the seriousness of my gratitude,” he told her. “And how much I’ve seen growth in your character.

  Natalie smiled. “Come now. I fear your father’s condition has put you in a maudlin mood. There will be plenty of times for you to assess my character when your judgment is more clear.”

  “Perhaps my judgment is muddled,” John replied. “But it is true to how I feel. I am grateful, immeasurably so, for your assistance in this trying time.”

  Miss Natalie nodded. “Of course. It is the least that I could do or would wish to do.”

  “You ought to get some sleep now,” he told her. He had napped enough. He would keep vigil now.

  Hopefully the fever would break and Father would begin his recovery. If not…

  Either way, John wanted to be awake.

  Miss Natalie frowned. “I would not wish to leave you alone for too long.”

  John glanced at the clock. It had been some hours, now. “Perhaps instead you could help my sister with rising. If you insist upon helping.” He gave her a smile to show that he was teasing and did not mind her insistence. “Have breakfast ready for her? Make sure the household is in order?”

  Miss Natalie curtsied. “Of course, my lord. If you think that’s what would best help.”

  “I do.”

  Miss Natalie gave him a smile and exited the room.

  Part of him wanted to call her back at once and tell her to stay. He missed the warmth that she exuded. It was a warmth he did not even realize was owed to her until she left.

  But Emma would be rising soon. It would be best if she had a friend waiting for her to help her prepare. And someone had to look after the household. He would not make either of his siblings do it.

  John sat up and watched his father. The elder man got worse at one point, moaning. At another point he seemed better, breathing shallowly but more easily.

  He could hear the household beginning to wake up around him. A part of him itched to get up and move around. Begged for something to do, no matter how trifling, or else he should go mad.

  But he couldn’t leave Father. If he left or put someone else in his place and something should happen while he was gone—he would never forgive himself.

  Instead, he stayed.

  Edward entered in a short bit. “How is he?”

  “Mostly unchanged,” John replied.

  Edward scrubbed a hand through his hair, a sure tell of his distress. “I tried to see to the household, but your future wife is managing things quite well on her own. She all but shooed me out of the way. Told me to come up here and be with my father.”

  “She is rather strong-willed, isn’t she?” John smiled fondly.

  Edward smiled back, albeit still tired and stressed. “You are well suited for one another. I appreciate her taking over. I could not give the household duties a proper managing if I tried.”

  John nodded. “Miss Natalie lost her own mother, as I’m sure you’ve heard.”

  “Yes, I did hear something to that effect.”

  “None of the family were present when the woman died. I think that Miss Natalie wishes to spare us that pain. She wants to make sure that we are assembled. Should the worst come to pass.”

  Edward frowned. “And this is the young lady that you once told me was shallow and cared for nothing but parties?”

  “She has changed,” John told his brother.

  “As have you,” Edward noted.

  “I’m sure I shall have changed even more by the time you return from the Continent,” John said. “No matter how it ends with Father…he cannot forbid you from traveling as I did. You deserve to enjoy the world and sow your wild oats a bit.”

  “I appreciate it,” Edward said. “I admit there was some…envy on my part. That I was stuck here while you got to run off. But I knew that it was to spite Father in a way and that you must not be truly happy in your travels because of that.”

  John nodded. That was a good way of putting it. “Well. I know that you will enjoy your travels and experiences to the fullest.”

  Father stirred on the bed, his eyes opening. “John?”

  John was at his side in an instant. “Yes, Father. I’m right here.”

  “Prop me up, would you?”

  Edward came forward and helped John to redo the pillows so that their father might be propped up by them.

  “Good.” Father nodded. Then he looked straight at John. “I have been made aware that an apology is owed to you.”

  John frowned. “Father, whatever you feel was poorly done on your part…I said and did my own things. I was disrespectful. I ran away rather than dealing with my responsibilities and fixing our relationship. That is on me.”

  “Perhaps you can both take partial blame,” Edward said. There was humor in his tone, but John knew that he was serious. And that he had a point.

  “I apologize,” Father said. “For the part that I played. You cannot deny that I am…have always been…a man of strong opinions.”

  “As am I. I ought to have listened to you more over the years.”

  “You have been listening to me well this past month,” Father pointed out. “Since you came home you have done nothing but follow my orders. You have been the model son. I have not given you enough credit for that. Nor have I ever apologized for my behavior. Allow me to do so now.”

  “Thank you,” John said. He honestly did not know what else to say. “And for whatever I did wrong…for all the ways that I was ungrateful. All the ways in which I disrespected you and hurt you. For running away, and all the grief that I caused because of it. I apologize. It was wrong of me and I would do anything to rectify it.”

  Father’s hand grasped at the covers, as if he wished to reach out but could not. John sat down and took his father’s hand. It was so cold and clammy and weak. It held none of the strength that John expected.

  “You are my son,” Father told him. “And even when I cursed your name—which I should not have done, but—even when anger overtook me, I cared for you. And now I can honestly say that I am also proud of you.

  “You have behaved admirably this past month. I can see your care for Mountbank and for your family. You chose well in your intended wife and she has taken care to extol your virtues to me. In case I was unable to see them for myself. And she will match you well in life.”

  John’s mind seized upon the fact that Miss Natalie had apparently extolled his virtues to his father.

  Why would she do that? Surely there was no need. Unless…

  He could not quite reconcile the idea that it had been mere charity or compassion that had led her to say that. Perhaps he could dare to hope that she did in fact care for him?

  John shoved such thoughts aside. Not right now. There would be plenty of time later. When Father was recovered. Then he could think about what was going on between himself and Miss Natalie.

  But now was not the time for romantic entanglements, either of a hopeful nature or a despairing one.

  “The doctor should be here shortly,” Edward said. “He was scheduled to come back first thing in the morning.”

  “Where is Emma?” Father asked, looking around.

  “Miss Natalie said that she would ensure Emma was taken care of,” John answered.

  Edward nodded. “I know that this is hard on her.”

  “You are all talking as though this is a massive surprise to you.”

  “It was a surprise to me,” John said. He was unable to completely keep the anger out of his voice. He should have been told of this possibility much sooner. He should have been made to come home at a much earlier date.

  Of course, if he had been, he might not have met Miss Natalie. And even if he had he might not have been compelled to marry her.

  He might never have gotten to know her.

  The thought stung.

  Emma entered the room. Miss Natalie was behind her, but only waited until she saw that all three children were assembled before
she curtsied and silently took her leave.

  John wanted to ask her to stay. But that would have only been indulging himself. He wanted her to be there for his own sake. That was not what this moment was about. It was about Father and his children. It was about the Ridgecleff family.

  “My dear,” Father said, as Emma drew near to take his hand. “My sweetest.”

  “Am I not sweet enough for you then, Father?” Edward teased.

  “You are feeling better then, Father?” Emma asked.

  Father sighed. “No, my dear. I feel a great weight on my chest. I fear it will only be lifted one way.”

  John felt his own chest growing tight. Emma tightened her hold on Father’s hand. “You mustn’t say such things. You might be better yet!”

  “There are times in life when you know things,” Father said. “Such as when you look at a person and know that you are in love with them. Or when you look at a person and know that they have lied to you. Or when you look outside and you know that it is going to rain, even if at that moment the sun is shining.

  “I can feel it approaching, child. And I do not wish to fight it. I wish only to apologize for any wrongs I have committed and to remind you all of my affection for you.”

  John wished that illness was something that he could fight. If a man impugned his sister’s honor he could duel the man. But he could not duel sickness. He could not fight old age.

  Emma sniffled and pulled out her handkerchief. Father smiled. “Now, now, my dear. Don’t cry. I’ve lived quite a good life. And I am glad knowing that you will all be well taken care of.

  “John shall handle things. And I now have faith that he will do so. Edward will enjoy his trip, I am sure. And be a bit more responsible about it than his brother.”

  John ignored the slight, knowing it was not the time or place and not really caring when what his father said was true.

  “And you will be happy, my dear.” Father patted Emma’s hand. “You will return to finish up your season and will find yourself a great husband. Of that I have no doubt.”

  “I wish you would not speak as if it were so certain,” Emma protested.

  There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” John called.

  Miss Natalie entered, leading the doctor. “Here you are, sir,” she said. She gave John a small smile and a curtsy and then closed the door as she exited.

  The doctor strode over to examine the earl. Father began to have an awful coughing fit as if on cue.

  John looked over at his brother, who shook his head. John felt his own thoughts reflected in his brother’s face. For all that Emma protested… he could sense it coming.

  The next few hours were difficult ones. Father’s fever got worse. Miss Natalie would flit in and out of the room, quiet but energetic. She made sure they all ate, having tea brought up to them. She managed the household—or rather John assumed she did. He never left Father’s side and when he tried to check with her, Miss Natalie told him not to worry about it and that everything was fine.

  There were moments of lucidity from Father, but also moments in which it was clear the fever dictated what he saw and felt. There was little that anyone, even the doctor, could do. They could only wait it out.

  Emma took it the hardest. She was the youngest and barely remembered Mother’s passing. She wept off and on and would not let go of Father’s hand.

  At least, John thought, he and Father had reconciled before the end. At least there was that. Now he could say goodbye without a heavy conscience. Now he could be at peace as he sent Father on his way—and he knew that Father was at peace as well. Nothing had been left unsaid.

  Miss Natalie, by happenstance, entered the room right as it was happening. John did not see her but he was aware of the door opening. Aware of her presence. The feeling of warmth that it brought.

  He was standing. Emma still had a hold of Father’s one hand. Edward was on the other side, sitting. The doctor was next to him, Father’s wrist in his hand as the doctor listened to the pulse.

  John could see his chest go still and felt his own breathing stutter.

  He was not the sort of man who cried, but he could feel the weight of it straining against his lungs. Pressing against his eyelids.

  He closed his eyes. Counted to ten. Composed himself. Took a deep breath and opened his eyes again.

  The doctor shook his head at him.

  Emma started to cry, very quietly. John slowly exhaled.

  Father would want the details of the funeral dealt with immediately. He must see to that.

  He turned and saw Miss Natalie. Made eye contact with her.

  John nearly forgot himself. He nearly crossed to her and sank down on his knees, seeking comfort.

  But Miss Natalie would not appreciate such a gesture and besides, it was not to be done in front of others. That was for a private time between man and wife only.

  There was much to be done.

  John refused to give himself over to the warmth in her eyes, the sympathy and sadness that he saw etched in her face.

  He nodded at her and then walked out of the room.

  He was the earl now. He was in charge of Mountbank.

  He must take good care of her.

  Chapter 37

  Natalie entered the room just as the earl was giving up the ghost.

  It was a sad but simple thing to see. There was no pomp and circumstance. No great last words. No seizures or anything of a distasteful nature.

  He was merely there one moment, breathing. And then he was gone the next. His body became still.

  Emma started to cry at once. Natalie could not blame her. She was only a little fond of the earl. She had not been able to deepen the affection beyond that of a gentle camaraderie. But even still she felt a lump in her throat.

  Lord Ridgecleff turned and saw her. Not just a lord through being the first born, not anymore. He was the earl now. Earl of Mountbank.

  Natalie felt the sudden urge to curtsy again. Just for the sake of that.

  He looked at her for a moment as if he were a drowning man and she was the rope thrown out for him to catch onto. His eyes were rimmed red and she saw how his breath stuttered in his chest.

  He looked like a man about to come undone.

  But then he drew himself up and she saw that raw look shuttered away. It was replaced by a look of calm fortitude.

  He nodded at her and then walked past, out of the room.

  Natalie wanted to run after him. But what could she possibly say or do that would fix things?

  Miss Ridgecleff, however, was crying. That she could help with.

  She crossed over to her and took the other girl into her arms. “I shall handle her,” she said to the younger brother.

  He bowed in thanks, looking quite at a loss what to do with his crying sister.

  “Doctor, if you have any prescriptions for what might be done with the body until we can finish with the funeral arrangements?” Natalie asked. She remembered that from when Mother had died. Bridget had handled all of that then. Father had been too full of grief.

  “Of course.”

  “And you, sir, I think are in need of fresh air,” she told the younger lord. “I prescribe a good walk. Take my sister with you, she will lend a kind ear.”

  To her surprise, the man obeyed as if in a daze. Louisa would be helpful in getting him through this. She was rather good at listening and helping people through great moments of emotion.

  Natalie suspected that Louisa was the one person Bridget had ever dared to share anything of her heart with over the years. Since Louisa was the one person about whom Bridget did not have to worry.

  Miss Ridgecleff continued to cry quietly. Natalie helped her to her feet. No sense in having the poor girl stay in this room with the body of her late father.

  “Come now,” Natalie told her. “He wouldn’t want any of that. Let’s go and get you some nice hot tea and you can cry it out all you like there.”

  Natalie could admit that she was
a believer in crying things out when they needed to be. But it had to be done out of the way. There would be work that needed to be done to prepare for the changing of the guard, so to speak, and preparing for the funeral.

  Already half of her mind was thinking about what was needed. A menu must be drawn up. An announcement had to be put in the papers and invitations sent out. The master bedroom belonged to her lord now. It would need to be cleaned with linens changed out and any redecorating done as he desired.

  This was what was meant, she thought, when people said there was no time for grief.

  She got Miss Ridgecleff to her own room and then called for tea to be brought up there. Then she dutifully wiped at the girl’s tears and held her hand.

  Miss Ridgecleff cried quietly for some time. Eventually she began to talk. She spoke of all the good things and of her frustrations and concerns.

  Natalie did her best to listen. It was her inclination to distract Miss Ridgecleff, to chase away her grief with laughter. But she knew that must wait for later.

  It was not good to wallow in grief. She knew that. Wallowing in grief had been what destroyed her father and nearly cost her entire family.

  But there would be time to distract later. The grief could not be ignored any more than it could be indulged. Miss Ridgecleff had every right to cry for the time being and so Natalie let her. She let Miss Ridgecleff have her time of mourning.

  When at last she quieted, Miss Ridgecleff turned her blotchy face to Natalie with a small smile of relief. “Thank you. For sitting with me. I fear I have been wearisome company.”

  “You needed someone to talk to,” Natalie replied. “I remember well what it felt like to lose my mother. I would be a sore person indeed if I left you alone at this time.”

  “But what of my brother?” Miss Ridgecleff asked. “John, I mean. Surely you should be with him.”

  “He is the earl now, Miss Ridgecleff,” Natalie reminded her.

  “Yes, but even an earl must grieve,” Miss Ridgecleff replied. “And it is Emma now, I should think. You are to be my sister, and you have earned my affection.”

  “Emma,” Natalie said, correcting herself. She smiled. “And you may call me simply Natalie.”