Rosalind: A Regency Romance (The Four Sisters Series Book 1)

by Audrey Harrison

  “I hope you invite Lord Stannage,” Peter continued. “I want to see him again before he disappears back into exile.”

  “Why does he venture out if he can’t bear it?” Annabelle asked, curious.

  “He’s a sociable man,” Peter started to explain. “He’s actually very likeable, but of course, people don’t see that; they see the eyes and want to laugh or ridicule him. I have some sympathy with him: I’ve seen the reaction that people have when meeting Annie for the first time. Robert seemed to enjoy showing her off sometimes to his groups of friends.”

  “That is cruel!” Rosalind interjected. “Annie must have hated it.”

  “She did,” Peter acknowledged. “It was the one and only time that I came to blows with Robert. He was four years older than me, so he was stronger and fought dirty, but the trouncing I got was worth it, because he never used Annie in such a way again.”

  “Poor Annie! No wonder she hates strangers,” Rosalind said, but her opinion of her husband had increased even more.

  “I wasn’t lying when I said our blood is bad,” Peter said quietly.

  Chapter 16

  Rosalind was nervous. It was the first time she was responsible for the entertainment of the large number of people who would be attending Sudworth Hall that evening. She had checked, double checked and checked again, every detail, every room to ensure that all was in order. The staff and her husband had indulged her in her obsessiveness, understanding that it was nerves that were driving her.

  She dismissed her maid and sat quietly at her dressing table. There would be people at the ball who were attending only to see if she would fail: she was aware of that. In their eyes she would never be anything but the daughter of a cit. She would normally disregard such shallow people, but whether it was because of her own feelings or her husband’s, she wanted the night to be a huge success.

  She turned, smiling, when the door to her dressing room opened and Peter entered. He looked every bit the aristocratic Duke with his black frock coat, cream waistcoat and cream breeches. He smiled in return and walked over to Rosalind with a box in his hand.

  “Now Duchess, I’d like you to wear this tonight,” he said, placing the box in front of her and putting his hands on her shoulders, looking at her in the looking glass. “I don’t tell you enough how beautiful you are, and I hope this will help to show you how much I mean it.”

  Rosalind flushed with pleasure, but laughed; he was always telling her how beautiful she was. “I thought you had shown me all the family jewels?” she asked, reaching for the box.

  “This is new, made especially for you,” Peter said. “I thought it was about time that you had something made with you in mind, to enhance your own style.”

  Rosalind opened the box, it contained a diamond necklace made up of a ring of pear shaped diamonds. At the front of the necklace was a fringe of round diamonds, twenty-three in total. The largest diamond, sat in the centre, resting in its casing, dazzling above all the others. The box contained matching bracelet and ear rings.

  “It is beautiful,” Rosalind whispered. It was true: the necklace was delicate and opulent at the same time. She had worn some of the family jewels that had felt bulky and a little ostentatious for her own taste, but it was traditional to wear the pieces that had been passed through the generations. This piece was obviously highly expensive, but it was tasteful and elegant.

  “I’m glad you like it,” Peter said, moving to fasten the necklace around his wife’s neck. The diamonds perfectly suited the silver dress she wore. The crystals sewn into the silver flowers that edged the dress at hem, waist and sleeves, sparkled in the candlelight, along with the sparkle from Rosalind’s necklace. Peter kissed her neck gently when he finished the task and smiled when Rosalind leaned into him. “Come, Duchess, we have a ball to attend.”

  *

  Rosalind watched Peter dancing with Miss Latimer. She wondered if she would ever tire of looking at him. For someone so tall, he carried himself with grace. He might not have been born to inherit the title, but he suited the role of Duke in both mannerisms and personality. A small smile played around her mouth; he was her husband, and her feelings were increasing daily for him.

  Lady Kettering approached Rosalind; it was the first time they had spoken since the fateful day that her daughter’s secret had emerged.

  “It is a successful ball,” Lady Kettering stated.

  Rosalind knew that they would never be friends; Lady Kettering shared some of Lady Joan’s unflattering traits, but the woman was obviously making an effort, so Rosalind responded in kind. “Thank you. I suppose the first is always going to be the most nerve-racking.”

  Lady Kettering gave a small smile. Rosalind wondered if she ever smiled fully; the lines around her forehead suggested that the face was more used to frowning than smiling.

  “I believe you have been regular visitors to Mathilda,” Lady Kettering said quietly.

  “We have,” Rosalind agreed. “She is a lovely child. Peter wants to be a part of her life, as do I.”

  “He would be within his rights not to acknowledge her,” Lady Kettering said.

  “We both know him well enough to realise that is something he would never do. To punish a child for her father’s folly would be unpardonable,” Rosalind said with feeling.

  “And her mother’s,” Lady Kettering said. “My daughter had the excuse of youth for her actions, but it does not excuse her behaviour since the birth.”

  “No, but she was in a precarious position,” Rosalind acknowledged. “When does Mathilda come to stay with you?”

  “We are having her for a few days over the next few weeks, before she moves in completely. Is it wrong of me to say I feel as if I have been given a second chance?” Lady Kettering said, with a flush, betraying how the words cost her. She was a mother, but was ashamed of her daughter’s behaviour and downfall.

  “I sincerely wish you well,” Rosalind said.

  “Thank you. I know we don’t deserve it after the way Joan treated you since your arrival in the area. Mrs Adams alluded to it, but we ignored it, thinking Joan was justified; we were very wrong.”

  “We need to start afresh,” Rosalind said, wanting to bring a lightness to the conversation. “We all want what’s best for Mathilda, so let us forget the past and dwell on her future instead.”

  “Well said,” Lord Kettering interrupted, but looking to his wife to make sure that he was not going against her opinion. “If I could have the next dance, Your Grace?”

  Rosalind nodded her assent and was led away to the dancefloor. At least relations would not be as strained in the future. She was doubtful that they could ever be good friends but, with work and the shared drive to protect Mathilda, it hopefully would ensure that a more harmonious relationship would emerge.

  *

  Annabelle entered into the ballroom, pale and shaking. She walked slowly around the edge of the room, using the floral decorations that spilled from every pillar as objects for concealment. She needed a drink, and she needed one now.

  She finally reached the doors to the hallway without meeting anyone who would realise that something was amiss. She breathed a small sigh of relief; she could escape for a little while, and no one would be any the wiser. The last thing she needed was questions about what had upset her: she would not be able to lie, but she could not upset Rosalind’s evening.

  Entering her brother-in-law’s study, she leaned against the closed door and closed her eyes for a second. When her breathing returned to normal, she walked across to the decanter tray and poured herself a brandy. Taking a large gulp, she felt the liquid as it burned down her throat and made her cough and splutter; tears poured from her eyes to the extent that she was not sure whether it was the brandy or the last half hour that had caused the tears. She finally wiped her eyes and turned from the decanter, moving towards the fireplace and the winged-back chairs that flanked either side.

  Sitting in one of the chairs was Lord Stannage, watching he
r with an expression of concern and amusement on his face. Annabelle, not expecting anyone else in the room, let out a scream and dropped the glass on the rug she was walking across.

  The reaction stirred Lord Stannage into action. “Miss Johnson, please don’t be afraid; I didn’t think you would see me. I expected you to leave the room without noticing my presence. I’m sorry to have startled you. Would you like another glass of brandy?”

  Annabelle had been startled only by the presence of another and was not really afraid of the gentleman before her, although she would always be wary in the company of any man. “I don’t want any more brandy, thank you,” she said quietly. “It’s awful stuff; I’ve no idea why it’s so popular!”

  Lord Stannage laughed quietly, “It’s an acquired taste. Please sit down; something has obviously upset your equilibrium.” He should be leaving the room, he cursed to himself, but she had looked as if she needed to escape. The way she had leaned on the door, as if in pain, had him holding on to the chair arms to stop himself from standing to offer her comfort, but he had remained quiet. It was not appropriate that they were in a darkened room with the door closed, but he had some sympathy with anyone wishing to escape. That was a feeling he knew all too well.

  Annabelle shivered, “I don’t think it will be a taste I’ll be trying again. I’m sorry I’ve disturbed you.” From what Peter said, she was not surprised that he was hiding, just that he had ventured out in the first place.

  “Your company is always welcome, Miss Johnson,” Lord Stannage answered truthfully. “What happened for you to seek solace?”

  Annabelle looked into the fire, speaking words that she would have never said to her sister. “I will never belong here,” she said quietly. “It has been made plain that I was foolish to think that I could. I thought it would be easy, but it isn’t; I will never get the relief that I sought, so I need to return home and face what awaits me there.” She could not repress the shudder that her words stirred.

  Lord Stannage felt his gut tighten; she was so beautiful with her rich chestnut hair and the deepest brown eyes he had ever seen. She had lips like her sister, a deep red, which drew him and made him want to kiss them. The problem was that Lord Stannage would never want to kiss the Duchess of Sudworth, but he did want to kiss Miss Johnson. He was under no illusion that she would look at him in the same light, but her words made him want to go out and punch every single person at the ball until he found out who had upset her.

  “You have every right to be here; your sister is holding the ball in your honour,” he said quietly, watching her closely.

  “Rosalind has the title to support her among her acquaintances, although I know there are some who will never accept her,” Annabelle admitted; the words she overheard had not been aimed purely at herself. “I have the backing of a Duke, but in reality it counts for very little as I found out tonight.”

  “Who has hurt you?” Lord Stannage asked. His words were gentle, but his mind raced at what he could do to ease her distress.

  “It doesn’t matter; they hold their titles as a protective shield against anyone who dares to stand up to them: no outsider can join their precious group,” Annabelle said bitterly.

  “A title of your own would give you the protection you needed to be accepted into society.” The title from the right person he cursed himself. He had uttered the words, wanting to offer her his own title, the strength of his feelings surprising him; but he was a fool. She would get ridiculed even more by being attached to him. He sighed quietly; he was entitled to his dreams, however unrealistic.

  “I’m not sure if I want to belong to this society,” Annabelle said honestly. “Rosalind suits the role she has married into, but I don’t think I would; I am not placid and diplomatic like my sister. My father has picked out someone at home who he wishes one of us to marry; I had no wish to fulfil that role but, even though my experience here is limited, it has shown me that in reality I have very little choice about my future.” Whether it was the darkened room or the effects of the brandy Annabelle was not sure, but she was confiding in a virtual stranger. She was saying things she had not even mentioned to Rosalind; she could not tell the stranger everything. Oh, no; she could not tell anyone everything.

  “How so?” Lord Stannage asked, watching the vibrant woman closely.

  “My father insists all his daughters marry a title, or we return home to marry the gentleman in question. We all come with very large dowries, so we presumed foolishly that our charms and a dowry would be enough to attract a husband. I certainly didn’t realise that most people would need the large dowry before they would even consider marrying us. Isn’t that vain of me?” Annabelle said simply. She did not want his pity, but for some reason speaking even a little of what troubled her was easier with him than with anyone else.

  “They would be fools if they did not see the benefits that would come with being married to someone like you,” Lord Stannage said.

  Annabelle blushed, aware that it was a huge compliment to herself, “Thank you, but I think I will ask Rosalind if I can return home; better to face my future sooner rather than later.” She was not aware of how she was ever going to be able to face that future; it was more terrifying than any nightmare she had ever had.

  The thought of never seeing her again made Lord Stannage feel desolate, but he pushed the thoughts to one side. He was a bigger fool than the people who mocked her; she would never look at him seriously. He had been aware of her discomfort when they were so blatantly watched and laughed at when they danced in their previous encounter; he did not condemn her: it was far less of a rejection than he had experienced in the past. She had been polite and had danced with him—something few ladies of his acquaintance did. For him to go to London though: that was something completely different. He would never venture further than his home town or his society in the North West, even if it meant that he would never see the beautiful Miss Johnson again.

  “I shall be sorry to see you go,” he said honestly.

  “Thank you,” Annabelle said with a genuine smile. “I don’t think my presence will be missed by many. I shall return home; at least I will be with people in my locality with whom I am comfortable with.” She did not mention that a marriage to Mr Wadeson filled her with terror.

  “I can understand your wish to do that,” Lord Stannage said with feeling.

  Annabelle stood; she needed to go back to the ball. Speaking to Lord Stannage had been surprisingly comforting, but it was inappropriate to stay in the study with him, no matter how much she would have preferred it. “I’ve enjoyed your company, but I need to return to my sister,” she said.

  Lord Stannage stood to offer his bow to the young lady. “I have enjoyed yours too,” he replied genuinely. “I hope you find what will make you happy.” He reached for her hand and kissed it. If he was not going to see her again, he felt justified in taking advantage of their closeness.

  Annabelle blushed, but smiled at him; surprisingly she did not feel threatened by the gesture. “Good evening, my Lord.”

  Lord Stannage paused and then pulled Annabelle’s hand, so she stumbled towards him. Her eyes widened in alarm, but he could not help it: he needed a little more before he said a final farewell. He put his hand on her back and gently bent down and brushed his lips against hers.

  Annabelle gasped; it had all happened so quickly. She pulled away in shock, recalling another time with a different man. “My Lord?”

  Lord Stannage held her face in his hands; his touch was gentle, almost reverent. “I’m sorry. You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen, and this is the last time I will see you; I couldn’t let you go without kissing you. It was wrong of me, but I will never regret it.”

  Annabelle smiled a little; it might have shocked her, but she was the one in the family who misbehaved, so she could not condemn someone who also pushed the boundaries that constrained him. She had been afraid of his touch, but he was so gentle that she relaxed a little, overcoming her i
nitial reaction to pull away and put distance between them. Perhaps with him it would be different, Annabelle thought to herself.

  Lord Stannage smiled at her, and she leaned towards him, kissing him in return. Lord Stannage was surprised, but he was not going to pull back from such an encounter; he lingered against her lips, but stopped himself from turning it into a passionate kiss. He had some control. He smiled as he pulled away, but the smile froze on his face as he heard a sound from the doorway.

  Baroness Leyland’s voice was the first to be heard. “Oh, my goodness!”

  Annabelle and Lord Stannage jumped apart, both turning pale with horror. Peter stood slightly behind Baroness Leyland and almost groaned when he realised who her exclamation had been about. This was not going to be good for either party, as Baroness Leyland was one of the biggest gossips of his acquaintance. He had only brought her into the study because she had said she wished for a private chat about his brother. He silently cursed his timing.

  “Well, I never! Lord Stannage, I presume we will be wishing you happy?”

  It was not so much the question, as the look of horror on Annabelle’s face that made Lord Stannage want to crawl away and hide from the world forever. The reality was, though, he had been found in a compromising position with an unmarried young lady, and he was going to stand by that. He could not examine his motivation or his feelings; he was reacting to the position they were both in.

  “I was hoping to speak to His Grace in private, but, yes, you will be wishing us happy,” he improvised.

  Annabelle was mortified. Before her, gloating in the worse possible way was the woman whose words had sent her into the room in the first place. She failed to realise what effect her expression of horror was having on Lord Stannage but was completely focused on the superior smile that Baroness Leyland wore. She had hardly realised what words Lord Stannage had uttered; it just seemed that her world was spiralling out of control, but she could not find her voice to stop it.