Betting on a Lady's Heart: Sweet and Clean Regency Romance (His Majesty's Hounds Book 14)
Page 9
He heard the footman answer the door, and rapidly tidied away the papers that lay littered over his study desk. He had, not five minutes before, asked Hattam to arrange for a light repast to be brought to him here. It seemed that would be delayed.
The voices from the hall were quiet, but he heard the footman, Hattam, and what sounded almost like a feminine tone. He stood, just as Hattam opened the study door, and hastily ushered a woman inside. She lifted her face to his, and he drew in his breath in a huge gasp.
“Miss Weston.” She was crying, her eyes red and puffy. Tears slid down her cheeks, and her eyes were full of a despairing sadness. “Whatever has distressed you so?”
“I… I am not sure that I can even speak of it, my Lord. But more importantly than that, I believe that I almost certainly owe you an apology.”
“An apology? I cannot imagine what you might wish to apologise for – I believe that I owe you far more apologies than you could ever conceivably owe me!”
She gave a little hiccupping half laugh through the tears, and the sound tugged at his heart.
“I apologise for so precipitously believing the worst of you, upon the word of Lord Langerden. For now, I have reason to doubt his sincerity in anything he might have said. And, before that particular bet, you were, at every stage, open and honest with me.”
Gervaise was deeply shaken - a bubble of riotous joy was rising within him, despite his attempts at control.
“Miss Weston, do sit down, and tell me everything that has happened, to bring you to this state.”
He guided her to the couch near the hearth, and she sat, a little shaky, she pulled at the ribbon of her bonnet, letting it fall to the floor beside her, and released the ties of her cloak. He reached for her hand, and held it, firmly. She did not pull away. Instead, her fingers tightened on his, and the tiniest hint of a smile touched her lips. His heart did the most extraordinary thing in his chest at the sight.
Moments later, Hattam tapped on the door, then stepped in to deposit a tea tray for two, with a substantial amount of food on it, upon his desk.
“Do you need anything else, my Lord?”
“Nothing more than your discretion, and that of whichever footman opened the door.”
“Of course, my Lord.”
Hattam, retreated, shutting the door after him.
“Some tea, Miss Weston?”
“Yes, thank you.”
After a few sips of tea, she seemed steadier, the tears having slowed to almost nothing, and he dared to ask again.
“Please, tell me what has distressed you so.”
Her wide eyes looked at him, a deep dark brown with touches of green, like night in a forest, and she seemed to be almost afraid to speak. He could not imagine what might have happened, to bring her to such a state.
Then, she released a huge sigh, and began to speak.
“He had an affaire with my stepmother.”
“Langerden?”
“Yes. I have been such a fool. Yesterday, he proposed, and I accepted. I was so foolishly happy about it, even though, when I look at it now, I had many areas of doubt about him, which I had been stubbornly ignoring. Then, late last night, my stepmother casually informed me of the affaire, in such a way that she attempted to make it seem all his fault. But I know her. I would not be surprised if it was her idea in the first place. I felt so deeply betrayed, by everyone.”
“I am so sorry, Miss Weston. That is terrible indeed. But… if that was last night, what has happened today? What has brought you to me in tears?”
Her fingers tightened on his again, as if drawing strength through the contact. He didn’t speak, simply waiting, as tears rolled down her cheeks again.
“I did not want to believe it, when she told me. I did not want to admit how much I had been taken in by his charming manner. So today, I went with him for a picnic, as had already been arranged. But I asked him for the truth. I demanded it, in fact, and, eventually, he confirmed what she had said. He even tried to brush it off with such platitudes as ‘all men have mistresses’ and ‘why worry, we are not a great love match’. Those words laid the depth of my own foolishness bare before me. I ended our betrothal on the spot. He took me home, and Helena almost gloated at me, when she saw my distress. He said that he had already ended it with her, and I believe he had. I think that she told me to spite him for doing so.”
He lifted her hand to his lips, and pressed a kiss upon it. She watched his movement, her tears still silently falling. He reached up and gently brushed them away.
“That is terrible, all of it. But… why have you come to me? I rather thought that you never wanted to see me again.”
“In truth, I do not entirely know why I am here, beyond the need to apologise for judging you. For I suspect that Lord Langerden’s words about that bet may have been as duplicitous as his words about everything else.”
Gervaise nodded, smiling.
“Yes, in that you would be right. For it was he who suggested the bet in the first place, as I tried to say at the time. But you were so shocked, and rightfully so, that you could not hear it. And he took advantage of that. I was unhappy about that bet from the moment it was made. He knew that it would be hard for me to resist, and he chose his moment precisely to trap me with my weakness. It was the very last bet that I have made – there has not been another since that day when you ordered me from the house. I made a promise to myself then, to be a man you could be proud of, even if you never spoke to me again. And I have succeeded. I doubt that I will ever gamble again, in any way.”
Her eyes widened, and a smile lit her face. She was beautiful, regardless of tears and puffy eyes.
“Truly? That is wonderful!”
“Truly. But – I do not understand why apologising to me became so important to you, amongst all of the other things you have dealt with today.”
She lifted a hand to touch his cheek. A soft blush coloured her skin, and he could see the beat of her pulse in that soft place at the base of her neck.
“It was important to me, my lord, because the events of the last day have made me realise not only that I was a gullible fool with Lord Langerden, but also that I was so very angry about your bet because I love you, and it hurt to think that you could treat my love as a counter in game. But once I discovered the possibility that Lord Langerden had lied, I saw that rather differently.”
Gervaise allowed himself to sigh, drawing her to him, and enfolding her in his arms.
“Those are the most wonderful words that I have ever heard. For I love you also, more than I ever imagined possible, until I had lost you.”
She pulled back in his arms, tilting her head back to meet his eyes.
“I know that the gambling drew you, but, still… why did you make that bet?”
“It was complete stupidity on my part. Betting… the horses… cards… it all took over my life, and almost cost me everything two years ago. But in that moment, even though I was so close to stopping, all due to your help, with Langerden goading me, my anger drove me to meet his challenge – as I am sure he expected would happen. And that loss of control cost me the most important thing, which is you.”
“And you have not bet since then?”
“I have not,” Gervaise promised. “And I never will again.”
“I believe you. And I love you all the more for your courage in admitting all of this to me.”
“Miss Weston… Clarisse… will you marry me? For I do not think that I could survive without you – if nothing else, this last two months has taught me that. I love you to distraction, and beyond.”
She laughed, a sound full of joy.
He lowered his head, his lips meeting hers, and she sighed, melting against him, returning the kiss with ardour as great as his own. It was like no other kiss he had ever experienced. The world shrank to the touch of her lips, the scent of her hair, the feel of her fingers as they curled around his neck. Of such small things was lifelong happiness made.
~~~~~
They talked for hours after that, and then, in the deepening blue purple of twilight becoming night, he walked with her, back along the stream, until she could slip into her home unnoticed, through the servants’ door.
Before they parted, he kissed her again, standing there on the bank of the stream where they first met. Clarisse clung to him, her heart full.
“Sleep well, and restore yourself after this difficult day. In the morning, tell your father as we discussed, the tale of Langerden’s deceptions and affairs, without damning your stepmother. I suspect that she will suffer enough for her actions, without any help. I will call upon you in the afternoon.”
“I will not be happy until I see you again. Not until you speak to my father, and I know that I am not dreaming, that we will marry.”
He kissed her again, then watched as she slipped into the house, before turning back to walk in the darkness, back to Brookhaven Hall. Clarisse sped to her room, and watched, from her window, until he disappeared into the night. This time, when sleep would not come easily, it was because of her joyous excitement, rather than sorrow.
The next morning, she went down to breakfast early, glad to discover that Helena was not in the breakfast room. Her father sat, as usual, reading the newspaper. She took a very deep breath, and spoke.
“Father, I have something to tell you, which I am sure will both shock and disappoint you. But I must tell you immediately.”
He put his paper down, and lifted worried eyes to her.
“What is this, daughter? I thought that you were happy, that all was well – what is this thing that you must tell me?”
“Father, I have ended my betrothal.”
“What! Why? The Earl is such a good match, why would you do such a thing!”
“Because, Father, he is not such a good man as his father was. I know that you like him, and regarded him well, because his father was your friend, but… he has proven himself less than honourable.”
“How?”
“I discovered, yesterday, that he was not approaching our marriage with genuine love, nor with honour in mind. He has had, whilst courting me, at least one affaire with a married woman. An affaire that he did not deny, when I questioned him. He even had the impertinence to suggest that it was normal, that all men have mistresses and that I should just accept it. I could do no such thing. In addition, it became obvious to me that he had, on a number of occasions, distorted the truth, to near the point of lies. I am sorry father, but I will not go into a marriage where there is no love and where deceit is regarded as normal.”
Her father gaped at her, astonished, shaking his head.
“And neither should you do so, daughter. I have married for love, both times, and I cannot imagine living in a marriage without that sort of care. I am, as you rightly expected, most disappointed in my old friend’s son. At least the banns had not yet been called, and we had made no announcements. But what will you do now?”
“I believe, Father, that I need to reconsider my opinion of Lord Woodridge. For I have also discovered that Lord Langerden spoke some untruths about Lord Woodridge, which distorted my perception of him.”
“As you wish. I must admit, I rather like the fellow. If only he didn’t gamble!”
“I think that you will find, Father, that he has, since his debts of two years ago, actually become a reformed man. Perhaps you should discuss that with him?”
“I most certainly will, if you are still interested in him.”
Clarisse left the breakfast room, happier than she had ever been in her life, but that happiness was eclipsed that afternoon, when, true to his word, Lord Woodridge called, and spoke to her father. They were shut away in her father’s study for an hour, and her nerves were raw from waiting, but, finally the door opened, and her father called her in.
“Daughter, Lord Woodridge has convinced me of his sincerity, his wealth and his new abhorrence for gambling. He tells me he would like to marry you – what do you have to say about the matter?”
Clarisse felt dizzy with joy as she stepped forward to take Lord Woodridge’s hand.
“I say yes, I want to marry Lord Woodridge, as soon as possible.”
Her father sighed, his smile widening.
“Then we’d best set things in motion to make that happen, hadn’t we?”
Epilogue
The weeks rushed by as the banns were called, and Clarisse found her life transformed. She met Gervaise’s father, and his stepmother, and loved both of them. The contrast between Helena and Jane could not have been more extreme. Knowing that these people would now be family to her was wonderful – a weight lifted from her heart, she was not losing her father, to have her new life with Gervaise, she was gaining a whole new family of delightful people. Her father would still be there, not far away, and she hoped, for his sake, that Helena would be happier, with Clarisse out of the house.
On the day of their wedding, she stood in the beauty of the enormous church in London, overwhelmed by the love she felt, by the soaring vault of the church above her, and by the sheer number of people who had come to see her wed. For a man who had lived a quiet life at Brookhaven Hall the last few years, Gervaise had a remarkable number of people who cared about him, and his happiness.
The ceremony passed in a blur.
Nothing mattered, but Gervaise by her side. And then it was done, the words said, binding her, forever, to the man she loved – the man she had almost lost, through her own foolishness.
They stepped out into the sunlight, and a storm of rose petals met them, the scent intoxicating, reminding her of that first kiss in the gardens, with the roses all around them. With his hand in hers, and friends all around, the world was a wonderful place.
~~~~~
Gervaise felt as if he was floating in a dream. Clarisse looked so beautiful when she stepped into the church that he could not believe she was his. But she was. The words were now spoken, and they had stepped back into the light of day, together.
His father stood to one side, his hand holding that of his own wife, Jane, both of them smiling broadly. Gervaise remembered clearly the first time he had seen Jane, when she had discovered him at the woodcutters’ cottage, remembered everything that she had done for him, and for his father.
He remembered, most of all, standing watching as his father and Jane stepped out of the church after their wedding, and thinking to himself that he would be an astoundingly lucky man if he ever found a love as wonderful as that which his father had been blessed to find, twice.
It seemed, he thought, that God had been listening to his thoughts that day. For the woman beside him was, indeed the love he had hoped for.
As the rose petals swirled around them, he bent to kiss Clarisse, to the gentle applause of those gathered around them.
The End
About the Author
Arietta Richmond has been a compulsive reader and writer all her life. Whilst her reading has covered an enormous range of topics, history has always fascinated her, and historical novels have been amongst her favourite reading.
She has written a wide range of work, from business articles and other non-fiction works (published under a pen name) but fiction has always been a major part of her life. Now, her Regency Historical Romance books are finally being released. The Derbyshire Set is comprised of 10 novels (7 released so far). The ‘His Majesty’s Hounds’ series is comprised of 16 novels, with the fourteenth having just been released.
She also has a standalone longer novel shortly to be released, and two other series of novels in development.
She lives in Australia, and when not reading or writing, likes to travel, and to see in person the places where history happened.
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Here is your preview of
Attracting the Spymaster
His Majesty’s Hounds – Book 15
Sweet and Clean Regency Romance
Arietta Richmond
Chapter One
“I will expect your usual efficiency about this, Setford. And… might we manage at least one meeting, without you asking something of me? If you were not so annoyingly good at what you do, I would not tolerate your presumption.”
“Of course Your Highness. I do not presume to anticipate your wishes. I merely suggest what I believe to be in the best interest of Crown and Country.”
“Hah! So you say. But I tolerate you, because you are right, an alarming amount of the time. Now, be off about your business, and leave me to the stifling afternoon of courtiers’ petty complaints that I must face.”
“As you wish Your Highness.”
Cecil Carlisle, Baron Setford, bowed to the correct degree, and left the room, slipping quietly through the courtiers who crowded the outer chamber, ignoring their curious eyes. He was a man of middling height, with middling brown hair, and plain, if perfectly tailored, clothing. Nothing about him stood out, at all – except his piercing pale grey eyes.
The Prince Regent had been generous, as always – generous in his rewarding of good service, and generous in his delivery of more dangerous and onerous tasks to be undertaken. Setford sighed – the work of a spymaster was never done, no matter that the war was nearly three years gone. Most threats, now, came from closer to home, from malcontents who saw the Prince Regent’s increasing excess in his life as intolerable, and sought to act as a result.