The Earl's Regret_Regency Romance

by Joyce Alec

  It all seemed entirely too much for him to bear, and then, the carriage door opened.

  The man who stepped out was one he recognized, surprisingly. He was a thin, short man with a balding head, wearing spectacles. A welcoming gaze spread across the length of his whole face, giving him a quite jolly appearance. He had not seen Lord Kensington for many years, and yet, to see his face was as if he was seeing an old friend, caused the knot in his chest to loosen.

  He turned to help a very pretty woman about his mother’s age step from the carriage, and he also found he recognized her as well, though less so than the man before. He assumed this was Lady Kensington, Lady Agnes’s mother. She had dark hair, tied in a loose plait, and she wore clothes that must have been made by the most skilled seamstress. He had only seen garments as fashionable on his youngest sister, who held such things to a high standard.

  “Lord and Lady Kensington,” his father said, bowing his head to them. “Welcome. It is magnificent to see you both again.”

  “Likewise, Duke. It has been far too long,” Lord Kensington replied, also bowing his head before he shook hands with John’s father.

  Their fondness for one another was evident, and it gave John joy in spite of his nerves; he hoped that he, too, could have a friendship such as this when he was older.

  He was distracted by his father’s reunion with his friend to have seen it, but Lady Agnes had stepped from the carriage herself, and he found that he was lost for words.

  Lady Agnes was what you might consider plain. She was of average height, standing precisely in the middle compared to his own siblings, and she was neither too thin nor too heavy. Her hair was the color of the crows that often flocked outside on the lawns, which suited her since he knew that she was born in midwinter. Her eyes were deep blue like the waters of the sea, and her skin as pale as a dove.

  Nothing was remarkable about her, nothing to cause a person to pause or remember a striking trait about her. But there was something about the way she looked around, something about how she carried herself, that made him realize that she was not just an ordinary young woman.

  And then, she looked over in his direction, and their eyes met; he found himself at a loss for words. Their eye contact held so much more than anything they could have ever said. He saw hope mixed with anticipation, shadowed by doubt, and flickers and shimmers of joy. He knew that she would be able to see the very same things reflected in his own eyes.

  Her eyes grew wide, the whole moment felt so much different than he had thought it would, and he had wondered how it would play out over and over again for the last several weeks.

  He was vaguely aware that someone was speaking beside him, but he didn't pay them much attention. He could not take his eyes off of Lady Agnes, and he knew that he was staring at her like a fool.

  She smiled at him, and it caused his heart in his chest to tighten uncomfortably. It was a lovely, genuine smile. He felt no malice from her, no desire for unnecessary and disingenuous formalities, and he could not be sure why he was so sure of this. Something in her face made her more real to him than any other woman he had ever met in his life.

  "John, are you quite all right?"

  He blinked and looked over to see his father very close to him, speaking in a hushed voice and his eyes wide with surprise.

  "Oh," John replied, shifting uncomfortably under his father's gaze. "Yes, of course," he answered, nodding at all the faces looking at him. Lady Agnes seemed to be the only one who was not looking at him in a bewildered manner.

  His father cleared his throat before turning his attention back to Lord Kensington. "As I was saying, my boy, this is Lord and Lady Kensington," he said, gesturing to the man and woman standing before him, warm greetings now on their faces. "I was unsure if you remembered them."

  John grinned at them and inclined his head. "In fact, I do remember. However, the pleasure is mine, and it is wonderful to see you again."

  His mother seemed pleased, looking at him from behind his father's back. He knew how important this whole week was going to be for his family, so he endeavored to keeping the peace as much as possible.

  He noticed the smile on Lady Agnes's face widen ever so slightly, and he wondered if she was amused by him. The thought both troubled and excited him.

  "And, a moment that we have all been excited for," his father said, gesturing to the woman John was watching so closely, and he took a step toward her, taking her hand and pulling her closer to John.

  "This is Lady Agnes," his father started.

  "I know," John replied, beaming at the girl, unable to help himself.

  The young lady appeared pleased.

  "And Lady Agnes, this is Lord Bridgewater."

  And when she spoke, John felt a memory rising up in the back of his mind, a long-forgotten echo of what felt like another life all together. He knew that he had never heard her voice before, or at least the fully-grown sound of her voice. Was this truly the only time they had met since they had been so young?

  "It is wonderful to meet you," she said, her voice very soft and low, and he longed for her to keep speaking. It was a soothing tone, one he knew was befitting to a great mother and wife, one who would console and encourage with very little effort at all.

  "We have met before," he said, before he realized what he had said. "That is, this is not our very first time meeting, of course."

  "Indeed," she replied. "We were quite young. I do not remember the event at all."

  "It was so long ago, and my memory of our introduction is fleeting," he said, shaking his head. "And I was certainly old enough to remember."

  "The memory of a young boy is not expected to be filled with betrothals," John heard his mother say. "Things like adventures and sword fights and tales of heroism."

  "I myself enjoy adventures and stories of heroism as well," Lady Agnes replied, with an unrestrained excitement in her expression.

  "Do you?" his mother said, a pleasant look on her face, and yet John had seen the flicker of surprise in her eyes.

  He knew how his mother disliked the very idea of adventures.

  "Well, shall we adjourn to the manor, dear friends?" his father suggested. "The weather is quite warm today, and we do not wish for the ladies to be uncomfortable in this heat."

  "Wonderful suggestion," his mother said, turning immediately toward the house. "I could do with a sit down. Come, Lady Kensington, we have much to catch up about."

  And the two women turned, arm in arm, toward the house, already speaking rather animatedly to one another.

  "It appears they missed each other perhaps more than I had realized," Lord Kensington commented as the rest of them started toward the manor.

  "I would have to agree," John's father said, his hands behind his back, matching the slow pace beside his friend. “Two summers is perhaps a tad too long for us to see one another.”

  “Though now that our children will be married, surely we will see much more of each other.”

  The two men laughed together.

  Lady Agnes fell into step behind her father, looking around her.

  John swallowed hard and began walking beside her, slightly farther away than his father from her father, but he continually stole glances of her as they made their way toward the large front doors.

  She did not seem to notice the fact that he was looking at her, either that or she was far too polite to acknowledge it. He watched as she looked over the grounds, up at the manor, and around at the river. He found himself hoping that she was impressed by the place, that she found it sufficient. He knew that her family was quite wealthy as well, and perhaps the estate where she currently lived was more elegant or perhaps even larger than his father's. It was unlikely, as his father had one of the largest estates this side of London.

  "Lady Agnes," he heard himself say, and with a sickening twisting of his stomach, she turned to look at him, her blue eyes wide.

  "Yes?" she asked, and he suddenly wished he had left her to her own m
usings. It was easier to watch her when she was not directly staring at him.

  He swallowed hard and looked at the door they were approaching. "Did...was the traveling pleasant?"

  You are a complete fool, he told himself. A complete fool who cannot seem to find those social graces his governess spent years honing.

  "It was indeed. It only took three days’ time, and both nights we stayed the most wonderful places. Last night, for instance, we stayed with my cousin, Sir Littleton, who allowed me to play his piano forte until I could barely keep my eyes open." A musical laugh escaped her, and he found that it was very pleasant to hear. "I absolutely love to see the countryside, so the ride here was quite enjoyable for me."

  He was pleased that she was so forthcoming with information. She had either ignored his blunder or did not notice it; either way, he was glad that she was so amiable.

  They spoke of the weather as they walked down the hall toward the sitting room on the eastern side of the house, away from the hot afternoon sun. He felt he was stumbling over his own words and that he couldn’t say the things that he wanted to. Everything that came out of his mouth was incredibly formal, and yet, she continued to talk to him as if they had been friends for years. No matter what he did, he could not force himself to be warm, and he scolded himself relentlessly.

  They found their mothers inside the sitting room already, being served cool drinks, as well as all three of John’s sisters.

  His sisters swarmed Lady Agnes, excitedly bombarding her with questions and giggles. It took a few moments for them to hear their father urging to give the poor girl some space and allow her to sit down after her long journey.

  “That is quite all right, Your Grace,” she replied cheerfully. John’s stomach tumbled inside of him. “I am content standing in order to stretch my legs.”

  “Perhaps the children would enjoy a walk around the gardens?” John’s mother said, a playful grin on her face. “Give them a chance to get to know one another a bit more?”

  Lord Kensington looked at his wife, who nodded happily.

  “I think that sounds like a fine idea.”

  “And dinner will be ready in an hour, Mr. Barnes just informed us.”

  “Wonderful,” John’s father said, looking at John. “Would you like to take the ladies outside for a nice stroll?”

  John noticed his sisters all looking intently at him. He knew that everyone was watching how he was going to handle being around Lady Agnes, and so far, he felt as if he was entirely inept.

  “Of course,” he said, bowing. He turned to Lady Agnes. “Shall I accompany you and my sisters outdoors? We have a lovely collection of roses on the south side of the estate.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” she replied.

  He gestured toward the French doors at the back of the room that led out to the terrace that wrapped around the back of the manor. Immediately his sisters rose and made their way to the door, looking over their shoulders at him and the Lady Agnes.

  The sun, now beginning to descend behind the line of trees, was not as warm as it had been when Lady Agnes and her family had arrived.

  John’s youngest sisters, Lady Beatrice and Lady Margaret, grinned at him as they made their way over to Lady Agnes, pointing out over the hedgerows toward the river as it wound around through the grounds of the estate. He couldn’t quite hear what they all were saying, but Lady Agnes seemed pleased.

  “I have not seen you look this lost since your hound was missing four years ago.”

  He turned to see his middle sister, the eldest of the three girls, Lady Jane, a very pretty young woman, with the same golden hair that he had, all curled and tied in a neat knot behind her head. She straightened the dress she wore, as aware of her appearance as ever.

  “I do not know what you mean,” he said, still watching Lady Agnes, who had begun to descend the stairs with Margaret.

  “Of course you do, and I am not unfamiliar with it.”

  He huffed and attempted to ignore his sister.

  She laughed hollowly.

  “Why aren’t you the one showing her around? Is that not what you promised father you would do?”

  A knot formed in his throat and still he would not look at his sister.

  “I see,” she replied. “Let me guess. She is not all that you hoped that she would be, right?”

  The idea seemed so preposterous, so far from the truth, that he honestly had nothing to say in response. It was enough to cause him to look at his sister.

  Her blue eyes widened when they met his. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Well, I did not expect this. You are…you are at a loss for words.” She turned to face him, peering into his face more closely. “If I did not know any better, I would say that you are downright infatuated with this young lady!”

  He turned away again.

  He watched Lady Agnes look over her shoulder at him, and he felt his face redden.

  “Come along, brother. Let us walk and keep up with them.”

  She put her arm through John’s and began to lead him down toward the gardens, following along behind Lady Agnes and his other two sisters.

  “I have to admit, she is rather plain looking,” Jane said pointedly.

  “That’s quite rude,” he responded. “How would you feel if someone said that about you?”

  She shrugged, brushing a stray curl from her face. “They never have. And I am quite sure they never will.”

  John rolled his eyes, and she did not notice.

  “Regardless of what people think of me, what did you see in her? Something must have caught your eye for you to be so…tongue-tied.”

  He wasn’t sure why he felt compelled to talk to her, but it began tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop it.

  “There is just something so…genuine about her.”

  “Genuine.” Jane clicked her tongue impatiently. “You have spent many nights at balls with the most beautiful women enraptured by your very presence, and you have given them no second glances. And then this woman arrives, and suddenly you are as shy as a mouse?”

  “And?” he asked, watching Lady Agnes throw back her head and laugh at something that Beatrice said.

  They were nearing the rose garden, and both of his younger sisters were glancing between him and Lady Agnes. Is it possible for them to be any more obvious about their intentions?

  He looked at Jane, who had also stopped walking.

  “Go on,” she said, shooing him away. “We will give you some space. And for heaven’s sake, dear brother, do keep your jaw off of the ground.”

  And with that, Jane gave him a gentle nudge toward Lady Agnes.

  He cleared his throat and walked the few steps toward her.

  “I apologize for my sisters,” he said, massaging the back of his neck with his hand. “They are always very excited when we have guests.”

  Lady Agnes gazed sweetly at him with her doe-like eyes. “Oh, not at all. I have no sisters of my own. Their company is most delightful.”

  “You are too kind,” he said, and taking a step closer to her, he said in an undertone, “They are about as easy to get along with as porcupines on occasion. My brother and I do all we can to ensure that we keep our distance.”

  “Well, perhaps they will treat me differently for I am not as familiar with them.”

  “A wise woman,” he replied. “Well, shall we see these fabled rose gardens that my sisters have no doubt made you to believe were only second to the Garden of Eden itself?”

  She seemed pleased to be able to wander among the blooms, and he was pleased to be able to watch her in a very polite way.

  She was incredibly gentle, in every motion, in every touch. The way she handled the roses was the way he imagined she would hold a priceless crystal ornament or the crown jewels themselves. She looked at him just as gently, as if he was a tender soul and needed extreme care.

  He had to admit, he was rather enjoying it.

  She told him many stories as they wandered around the gard
ens. She was neither forceful nor dull, and he found himself intrigued and listening intently as she spoke. She spoke of her childhood with four brothers, all older than she. She told him all about the little village just outside the estate that she loved to visit, where she would play with the other children and spend most of her days beside the lake. Her favorite topic of conversation was about her prized stallion. She had raised him from a foal, and she was quite proud of his breeding. His lineage alone had produced some of the nation’s strongest horses, some even going on to be military horses.

  “If it would not be a problem, I would very much like to bring him to live at the manor when we are married.”

  The statement caught him off guard entirely, and it drew him back to the reality in which he resided.

  “I…I’m sorry, what did you say?” he asked.

  “I would like to bring Obadiah to the manor so I may continue to ride him and take care of him.” She explained with her eyebrows raised waiting for an answer, apparently unaffected by his inward musings. “If that would be all right with you, of course.”

  She paused, and John didn’t answer.

  Looking defeated, she spoke once again. “I’m sure my parents would take very good care of him when I leave if that is what you prefer.”

  “No,” he said rather hastily, and held up his hands. “No,” he attempted again, a little more gently. “He would be welcome at the stables of the manor. The house will not be mine alone, after all. It will be just as much yours as it will be mine.”

  A silence fell between them. She did not seem displeased, but he did not know what else to say. Discussing the marriage in such a frank and open fashion made it that much more surreal to him, and as he looked at the woman who was to be his wife, a deep and restless anxiety gripped his heart, and he desperately wished to be alone with his thoughts.

  “Well, thank you,” she replied, a little more reserved that time.

  It surprised him how much talking about the marriage with her, the woman who he was to marry, startled him. What did one say to one’s betrothed, especially when they did not know a thing about each other?