The Earl's Regret: Regency Romance (Brides and Gentlemen)

by Joyce Alec

  “So, we are not to be introduced then?” he murmured with a quick smile. “Very well, my lady, may I ask if you are enjoying your time in London?”

  “I am,” she replied, her eyes now lingering on the dancing below. “In truth, this is my very first ball.”

  Luke lifted his eyebrows, a little surprised to hear it. She did not appear to be in the first flush of youth, but if this was her first ball, then she was clearly a debutante.

  “My father has only, this year, been able to take us to London,” she continued, as though aware of his confusion. “I have been very much looking forward to it.”

  A sharp awareness ran straight through him as he realized, that since this was her first ball, she would not have any particular suitors or the like. Not that it should matter to him, since he was betrothed. Still, he could not help but feel a thrill of delight over such a thing.

  “Then I do hope the Season is everything you hope for,” he murmured, as she turned her head to look straight into his eyes.

  She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes holding an interest that surprised him. “Do you not enjoy dancing, my lord?”

  His smile spread across his face. “I do, of course, but I have to have the right partner for it to be enjoyable.”

  “And what is the right partner?” she asked, with no guile whatsoever. “You must forgive me; I am quite unaware of such things. When I go out to dance, I simply hope that the gentlemen in question will not tread on my toes, and that I will recall all the steps correctly!”

  Luke chuckled, his heart lifting as she smiled over at him. “That is a good dance partner, of course, but the best partner is one which makes you forget that you are dancing at all. You are so caught up in their company that the steps just come to you, with very little effort made to remember them.” His voice grew a little deeper, his words slowing as he saw the effect he was having on her. Her eyes were fixed on him, her mouth a little pursed as she considered what he said. Her cheeks were dusted with pink, making her all the more lovely. Luke felt his heart quicken as the desire to draw closer to her, to have her hand in his, began to overwhelm him.

  She got to her feet, breaking the magic that was flowing between them.

  “I had best return to the ballroom,” she murmured, suddenly unable to look at him directly. “My next partner will be looking for me, and I do not want him to be unable to find me.”

  “No, of course not,” Luke replied, clearing his throat and standing up a little straighter. As she made to go past him, he stepped into her path, bowing at the waist. When he looked up, the lady was blushing profusely, and unable to help himself, he caught her hand and, raising it to his lips, pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her hand.

  “I hope we are introduced very soon,” he said softly, as he raised his eyes to hers. “Thank you for conversing with me, my lady.”

  For a long moment, she simply looked back at him, her mouth a little ajar as though the feelings sweeping through her were ones she did not recognize. And then, with a quick tug of her hand, she was gone from his side, her skirts in a flurry as she hurried down the stairs.

  Luke did not return to the ballroom, choosing not to go in search of his betrothed. His mind was too caught up with the mysterious lady he had met on the balcony, his pulse still racing as he caught sight of her in the arms of another gentleman. How much he longed for that to have been him. But it was not to be.

  He was being both ridiculous and unwise. He ought not to have given in to what he felt, ought to have ignored the sudden rush of awareness he had on seeing her. Yes, she was beautiful and—by all appearances—rather charming. However, he could not simply turn his back on his betrothed—and on his family—and chase after a lady who would not even give her name.

  Giving himself a slight shake, Luke turned away from the twirling dancers, and after a moment of hesitation, he chose to leave the ball entirely. He would find his betrothed another evening.

  4

  Elizabeth smiled to herself as she walked leisurely towards the park, her maid trailing behind her. She had been up early, leaving her mother and father still abed, and certainly could not be confined to the house on a glorious day such as this! So, she had chosen to break her fast, dress, and hurry from the house, choosing to walk in the park that was only a short distance from her home.

  It was early enough that there was barely a soul out walking the streets, although all the shopkeepers were busy setting up their stores for the day. She smiled and nodded at a few of them, thinking that she might stop by the bookshop and possibly search for a new ribbon or two on her return home. But, for the time being, she wanted nothing more than to be in the quiet and stillness of the park.

  It obliged her. The moment she stepped in through the gates, the loveliness of the place overwhelmed her, the scent of the flowers rushing towards her as though greeting her in welcome. She smiled and drew in a long breath, her eyes closing for just a moment.

  How beautiful it was.

  Walking a little further into the park, Elizabeth took her time to admire the blooms, wishing she knew the names of them, before laughing at the ducks splashing in the pond. Aside from her maid, there was not anther soul in the place, which she found a rather pleasing fact. After the crush of yesterday’s ball, she found enjoyment in being alone.

  Humming to herself, Elizabeth walked along the small, twisting path into a copse of trees, and finding a small bench, she sat down on it. The maid handed her the sketchbook and pencils she had brought with her, and under Elizabeth’s instruction, she sat down a little further away, giving Elizabeth all the space she required.

  “It really is a very pretty vantage point,” Elizabeth murmured to herself, her pencil in her hand as she began to sketch the scene in front of her.

  She had always enjoyed art, even though her watercolors were not as good as she wished them to be. Her drawing brought her a great deal of pleasure, even if no one ever saw her work. It was something she did that she could be proud of, particularly when a piece turned out very well. She was not quite sure whether or not she would paint this particular scene, but a sketch would do her for the time being.

  As she drew, her mind filled with all that had gone on at the ball last evening. She had found it both delightful and overwhelming, as well as utterly exhausting—from all the dancing she was expected to do. That had been an experience in itself, for the gentlemen who had partnered her had varied greatly in both skill and conversation. Some had concentrated so hard on the steps that they had barely spoken a word to her, whilst others had been so free with conversation that they did not seem to even notice where they put their feet, with one gentleman standing on her toes.

  She winced, wriggling her toes a little and finding them still painful. No, not all of them had been particularly good partners. Recalling what the mysterious gentleman had said to her about finding the best partner, Elizabeth smiled to herself as she continued to sketch, her heart lifting in her chest. That gentleman had been both good in conversation and handsome of face, even though she knew she ought not to let her thoughts linger on him. She was to be married soon, even if she had not seen her future husband in some years. There was very little point in continuing to think of the man on the balcony.

  And yet, he had been so very handsome and clearly interested in her conversation, which she had appreciated. She had been a little silly to refuse to introduce herself without a third-party present, as was expected, but that did lend itself to a little more mystery. Elizabeth could not pretend that her heart had not quickened in her chest when he had smiled at her, nor that she had not felt heat rippling through her when he had pressed his lips to her hand. Even now, she could still feel the remnants of his actions rifling through her, making her aware of the desire coiling through her veins. She wanted to know the gentleman; she wanted to know his name and the kind of man he was.

  “But that would be foolish, Elizabeth,” she said aloud, berating herself for allowing her thoughts to be caugh
t up with him again. “You are to be betrothed. Stop being so foolish.”

  “You are being foolish? In what way?”

  With a small shriek that had her maid come running, Elizabeth turned her head to see none other than the mysterious gentleman from the night before coming towards her. With one hand on her heart, she waved her maid away with the other as she rose to greet him, her legs a little unsteady.

  “I am terribly sorry; I did not mean to upset you,” he said at once, looking rather embarrassed. “I thought you had heard my horse approaching.”

  Elizabeth’s gaze traveled past him to see a large, black stallion blowing hard through its nose, as it stood tethered to a tree branch. It did not take much notice of her, but it lowered its head to begin to eat the grass.

  “I did not see you, nor hear you, but that often happens when I am drawing,” she explained, not quite sure what else to say.

  He smiled at her, his eyes warming. “You draw?”

  “Do not all young ladies?”

  He chuckled then, his shoulders lifting in a slight shrug. “I suppose they do, but I find myself intrigued to see your work.”

  Elizabeth shifted her gaze to her sketchbook sitting on the bench as she sat back down, feeling a little uncomfortable. “Well, I suppose….”

  “You do not have to, of course,” he said quickly, evidently aware of her discomfort. “It is entirely at your discretion.”

  Choosing to ignore her lack of confidence in herself, Elizabeth picked up her sketchbook and handed it to him. “I have just sketched the scene in front of me,” she murmured, hoping that her cheeks were not as hot as she felt they were. “I may add color later, when I return home, but I have not always enjoyed watercolors.” She kept her gaze on his face, growing desperate to know what he thought of her work. Elizabeth was surprised that such a strong urgency would rise within her, especially since this was only the second time she had met the gentleman in question. Much to her relief, he raised his eyebrows and looked over at her with a look of wonderment.

  “My dear lady, you are remarkable!” he exclaimed, his eyes looking from the sketchbook to her and back again. “I am aware that it is expected for me to share a compliment over a young lady’s work, but in this case, I find that I am struggling to find the words I need to tell you just how extraordinary this work is.”

  Elizabeth felt herself blush. “You are very kind, my lord.”

  He shook his head to himself again, looking back at her sketch, before handing her back the sketchbook.

  “And will you still not give me your name?” he asked quietly, now standing directly in front of her. “Do we still require a third party to be so proper when we have not been conducting ourselves with all the propriety we can muster?”

  “Whatever do you mean?” Elizabeth asked a little breathlessly. She felt her heart quickening a little, as she looked up at him, seeing his smile broaden, his eyes lighting with good humor.

  “Nothing too incorrect, of course, but more the fact that we are having all kinds of conversations without even knowing one another’s names,” he replied, with a chuckle. “Does that not mean that we are, in fact, being terribly improper?”

  “I suppose so,” Elizabeth replied, feeling both relieved and amused. “Then, given that it is so improper, I think we should end this conversation at once.”

  The smile faded from his face and an earnest expression replaced it. “And yet I find that the very thought of doing such a thing wounds me grievously,” he murmured, coming to sit by her. Elizabeth felt her heart leap into her throat, aware of just how closely he sat by her. Her maid was doing her best not to look over at them, but even with her presence, Elizabeth was more than aware that this situation was not a wise one. To have a gentleman sitting so close to her, when they were practically the only two souls in the park, was extremely unwise.

  But then again, they were the only two in the park, except for her maid. Surely, they would be able to see or hear anyone who approached, would they not? Was her reputation really as safe as she hoped?

  “I have discomfited you, I think.”

  His voice was warm, and as she looked over at him, she saw that his eyes were filled with anxiety.

  “I should go.”

  “Please,” she found herself saying, catching his sleeve with her hand. “Do not do so on my account, I beg you. I was just being foolish.”

  The anxious look did not leave his expression. “No, you are quite right, of course. I should not be putting your reputation in jeopardy by sitting here, but for whatever reason, I find myself rather drawn to you.”

  Elizabeth blinked up at him, her entire body burning with a sudden heat. She wanted to tell him that she felt the same, but she found her mouth simply would not move, her words refusing to come from her throat. She could not say anything of the like to him, not when she knew that there could never be anything between them.

  “You must forgive my thoughtlessness,” he murmured, getting to his feet at once. “I did not mean to bring you any kind of discomfort.”

  “You did not,” Elizabeth replied earnestly, feeling the loss of his presence immediately and suddenly finding the game they were playing a little frustrating. She ought to tell him at once that she was betrothed; she ought to tell him that there could never be any kind of association between them. No matter how hard she convinced herself to do so, Elizabeth found that she simply could not bring herself to say such a thing.

  “Come the next ball, I shall insist on being introduced to you properly,” he said with a quick smile. “Then we shall not have any more concerns as regards our interactions. What say you to that?”

  “I think that would be a most excellent idea,” Elizabeth replied with a smile. “Thank you, my lord. I appreciate your consideration in this matter.”

  He looked at her for a long moment, and Elizabeth found herself fixed to her seat, not quite sure what to say or do. Something in his eyes brought warmth to her very soul, something that she was not quite sure what to do with.

  Without another word, he bowed in front of her, catching her hand and pressing his lips to it, just as he had done the previous night. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and left. Elizabeth kept her eyes on him for as long as she could, her heart both unsettled and yet filled with happiness over what had turned out to be a very pleasant morning.

  5

  For whatever reason, Luke could not get the lady from his mind, even though he knew he should not be thinking of anyone but his betrothed, even though he had not been introduced to her yet.

  To see her in the park had been an unexpected pleasure, and unfortunately for him, he had not seen her again since then. That was mostly because in the last few days, he had not attended any balls—mostly recitals and the theatre. She had been at the theatre at the same time as he, but he had not had the opportunity to speak to her, and certainly had not wanted to ask any of his acquaintances about her, for fear that they might begin to think that he had an interest in her. That certainly would not do, not when he was already engaged.

  Frowning to himself, Luke walked quickly along the street, glad for the early morning when there were very few others around. Of course, there were the tradesmen and shopkeepers already hard at work, but the majority of the beau monde would still be abed. He had never been one for the late nights and even later mornings, finding that he enjoyed rising with the dawn and spending the first few hours of the day in relative quiet. It brought a peace to his mind and a joy to his heart that he could not quite express.

  Seeing a bookshop, Luke paused in his walk. He had been intending to walk to the park in the hope of perhaps stumbling across the lady again, but the lure of a good novel caught at his mind. It was quiet enough that there appeared to be no one but the shopkeeper within, and Luke thought to allow himself a few minutes indulgence before continuing on his way.

  The bell jangled noisily as he stepped inside, nodding to the shopkeeper who looked up at once.

  “Ar
e you looking for anything in particular, my lord”? the man asked at once, clearly interested in being as much help as he could to Luke, in the hope of making a sale.

  “Any new novels?” Luke asked, looking all about the quiet, dusty looking shop. “Or any new history books? I do have quite a penchant for learning about the past.”

  The bookkeeper, an older man with a shock of grey hair that shot out in all directions, gave a wide smile. “The new novels are at the back of the shop near the window, and you will find the history section directly opposite that.”

  “Thank you.” Luke made his way there at once, smiling to himself as the familiar smell of old books and dusty parchment caught his nose. It was a smell he quite liked, bringing him back to all the times he and his father had spent in old bookshops together as he was growing up. It was due to his father’s love of books that Luke found so much pleasure in them, something he now appreciated. The way his mind could be taken on a journey through simple words always astonished him.

  Although there was a rather large library in his father’s townhouse, Luke thought that he might find something here to catch his attention. He could already imagine himself settling down with a small brandy and a new book in his hand.

  The tinkle of the doorbell rang out again, but Luke did not look round. He was much too engrossed in a rather interesting novel with a depressingly morose title. It was only when he heard the quiet voice of the lady he had met in the park a few days earlier that he suddenly looked up.

  Either fate was bringing him together with this lady, or she had been secretly following him. He did not think it was the latter. A small smile creeped on his face as he saw her approach. She was beauty itself, her eyes roving around the bookshop in much the same way as his own had done. Her cheeks were a light pink, her lips curved into a smile. Clearly, she delighted as much in books as she did in sketching.

  “You have not brought your pencils and sketchbooks today?”