The Earl's Regret_Regency Romance

by Joyce Alec

  Lord Henry cleared his throat and hoped that the tightening of his jaw was not obvious in this light. “Correct. Now, Mr. Barnes, do you have any idea where he could have gone to? Any place where we could begin our search?”

  “I’m coming along,” Mr. Barnes said. “I can’t just sit here wondering what in the world could be happening to my boy.”

  “Mr. Barnes, you should return home to your wife, let her know that the situation will be resolved soon.”

  “It’s just my boy and I, my lord. My wife passed several years ago.”

  Lord Pangborn looked solemn, but Lord Henry noticed that the hands behind his back were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. “My condolences, I had no idea.”

  “That’s why I can’t just go home! I’ll be driven mad by the worry!”

  I can understand that completely, Lord Henry thought, knowing full well that he would not be able to return home until she was safe and sound.

  “We appreciate your enthusiasm to help,” Lord Terra said, “but we cannot even begin our search until we have some idea of where to look.”

  Mr. Barnes collapsed into the chair behind him, mopping his forehead with a handkerchief he procured from his pocket.

  “I don’t know, my lord. My son is an active boy, one who is perhaps a bit too curious for his own well-being.”

  You couldn’t be more right, Lord Henry thought, crossing his arms across his chest.

  “He’s a lot like his mother, you see. The whole world fascinates him, and nothing keeps his attention for long.”

  “So what does that mean he will do to my daughter?” Lord Pangborn cried, his anger flaring. He pointed a finger at Mr. Barnes.

  “Nothing, my lord, I simply meant—”

  “You will play your cards very wisely, Mr. Barnes. You will do all you can to help us, and then after we find the children, we will discuss you keeping your job on my estate.”

  Lord Pangborn turned to his son. “Get whatever information you can out of him. I am going to tell your mother what we have discerned. We are wasting precious time.”

  And he stormed out of the building, slamming the door behind himself.

  Lord Henry winced at the sound.

  “Lord Terra, you must believe me, I meant nothing by it.”

  Lord Terra held up his hands to silence the man. “I understand. Your son is unpredictable.”

  “I wouldn’t say that, my lord,” he started quietly.

  “My father is right, Mr. Barnes. We are wasting precious time. Now tell us, where do you think your son could have gone to with my sister?”

  He wrung his hands, the handkerchief still clutched in his fingers. His eyes looked everywhere but at Lord Terra or Lord Henry.

  “I truly do not know. Please, have mercy on a grieving father.”

  Lord Terra sighed. “All right, you will join us in the manor, so if inspiration strikes, you can readily share it with us all.”

  4

  The Inner Struggle

  “The Golden Goose?” Lady Harriette read off of the old sign. The gold filigree letters were peeling, and more than one of the windows was broken.

  “Yes!” exclaimed Mr. Charles Barnes, looking at her excitedly.

  “Why here?” Lady Harriette asked, pulling her cloak more closely around her shoulders.

  “This has been one of my favorite places to go to ever since I was a child!”

  The idea of seeing a glimpse of his childhood excited Lady Harriette, but she couldn’t help notice the dilapidated village all around them. She had never been quite so far from her father’s estate, and now that she was away and tired, much of the excitement of their decision the night before had worn off.

  “Is it an inn?” she asked hopefully. “I could do with a wash and a long rest.”

  “It is,” he said, looking at her excitedly. “I’m hoping to have a heaping portion of steak and kidney pie for supper this evening, and maybe I can get Madam Stewart to give me some of her husband’s special supply of cider that he keeps under the counter.”

  She was somewhat startled by his childish antics, for he certainly looked nothing like a child.

  When they had left the manor the night before, she had felt it all was terribly romantic. The fact that he had come so late in the evening to speak with her, and the fact that it was such a beautiful night. She wondered, perhaps, if this was all some sort of mystical dream, and soon she would wake in her own bed, warm and comfortable.

  He grabbed her hand and pulled her through the door, which had a pretty stained glass window set in it, and she found themselves in a stuffy, little tavern.

  “Is that my boy?” she heard from the bar. A rather large woman with rosy cheeks and curling auburn hair beamed at him from across the room. “Is that my little Charlie?”

  Mr. Barnes grinned at her sheepishly. “Yes, Madam Stewart, it is.”

  The woman squealed with delight and crossed the room as quickly as she could to where they stood. She threw her arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a ferocious hug, squealing in his ear the entire time.

  “Oh, my little boy, where have you been?” she asked as she set him back down on his feet. “Why have you and your father not been to see us in so long?”

  He smiled and ran his fingers through his hair. “I started working with my father at the Pangborn estate. It’s been hard to find any time for a holiday.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “That is no excuse. A man should not work all the time. It’s not good for the soul. You can tell your father I said that.” She furrowed her brow. “Is he coming? I assume he came to town with you.”

  Mr. Barnes shook his head, but his smile was still fixed on his face. “No, ma’am! I brought Lady Harriette with me instead!”

  Madam Stewart turned to look at Lady Harriette, who curtsied slightly. “A pleasure to meet you, Madam.”

  She sized her up and down. “Charlie, you have brought a Lady with you?”

  He nodded his head.

  Madam Stewart smiled hesitantly at Lady Harriette. “Well, my dear, it is lovely to meet you.”

  Mr. Barnes leaned slightly closer to Madam Stewart.

  “We are running away together.”

  Lady Harriette tried her best to keep her face as plain and amiable as possible. Mr. Barnes was quite handsome, but so far, she had not been impressed with his plans, or lack thereof. But she smiled, in spite of herself. Why would he have asked her to run away with him if he had no plan? Surely this was just all part of it. Harriette looked around the room and now saw that it was somewhat quaint. It was impeccably clean, and she even rather enjoyed the smell of the tobacco mixed with the smoke of the roaring fire on the opposite side of the room.

  She assumed that this was just a stop they were making before they made their way to the church where they would be married. Perhaps the church he chose was one that he attended as a boy, and knew that since it was away from her estate, maybe it would be a better place to hide from her father until they were married. At least, she hoped Charles had thought that far ahead.

  As they had run through the dark the night before and taken a carriage down to this little town, she imagined the wedding that she was giving up, and found that it didn’t matter to her as much as she thought it would. Many times, she had wondered what it would be like, but after watching her older sisters go through it, she realized just how stressful the whole process could be.

  Why couldn’t marriage be as simple as this? Making a decision and acting on it, embracing the passion and the romance and just being together? Why did all of the formality follow it?

  This was a better way, she thought. This was the way that she had chosen to do it. And her father was always very insistent that she stick with her decisions. It was very hard to be taken seriously in society if you appeared fickle or indecisive.

  “Running away together, Charlie?” Madam Stewart asked. She looked from him to Lady Harriette and back to him. “Are you…are you sure?” she
asked.

  “Of course,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders as casually as if she had just asked him if he would like a freshly made pudding.

  She seemed to be considering her words carefully, glancing back and forth between them. “You are sure that this is what…” she looked hard at Lady Harriette. “What you both desire?”

  Charles looked over at Harriette and flashed a broad smile. His smile drew her attention from Madam Stewart’s stare, and it felt as if that was all she could see. She felt as if her heart was as light as air, and she smiled in return.

  “It is,” she heard herself say, but it seemed to be from a much farther distance.

  She felt him reach over and slip his hand into hers, and the slight touch made her heart start to flutter happily.

  Since they first met, she had always been enamored with him. He had been the most handsome boy she had ever seen, and she was immediately attracted to his insatiable desire for adventure. He would always ask her to go explore around the estate, which Miss Bonnie always frowned upon, and yet she would go. They spent hours hunting for mice in the trees behind the terrace, or finding pretty stones in the creek behind the house, or even playing hide and seek in the vineyards.

  When she started her studies in earnest, she saw him less frequently, so she often insisted on walks outside around the estate, which Miss Bonnie agreed to. She didn’t know if she ever realized what her real desire was for being outside so much.

  “Hey,” she heard from beside her.

  She hadn’t noticed, but Madam Stewart had walked away, leaving the two of them standing there beside one another.

  “Are you all right? You have a sort of empty look in your eyes,” he said.

  “Oh,” she said, feeling her face warm, “My apologies. I suppose the trip has taken its toll on me. I would greatly appreciate having a lie down for a little while.”

  “Nonsense,” he said. “We have to go into the village. I wanted to go and see the market and then go swim in the lake and visit some of my friends!”

  She felt some of her happiness ebb when she looked at him. “Truly? Are you not just as exhausted as I am?”

  He shook his head. “No, I feel great! Come on, we can sleep later. There is so much to see and do!”

  She sighed heavily, a twinge of frustration coming over her. She looked into his excited face and felt her heart soften, though far less quickly than might have happened earlier that day.

  She agreed, and with another grin, he grabbed her hand and pulled her back out into the streets.

  She was just tired, she decided. That was why she was less than thrilled to be following him around in the chilly weather. She found herself more annoyed at his chipper attitude as he greeted a passerby on the street, and less likely to laugh when he attempted a witty joke.

  Had he always been this…childish? She wondered if she had always mistaken his carefree attitude for life for a misguided sense of maturity. She always admired his ability to talk to any and all people, but she was feeling slightly ignored as he spoke to everyone else aside from her. At one point, she wondered if she were to just go back to the inn, if he would even notice her absence.

  She had to talk him out of going swimming in the lake, which still had ice clinging to the banks. He teased her and chastised her, calling her timid and unadventurous, but she adamantly refused. She told him that if he had a death wish, then by all means, go ahead. He seemed thoroughly put out when she wouldn’t play along, and she wondered for a moment if she was acting more like his mother than his fiancée.

  When they finally started to make their way back toward the inn, and it was only after he had begun to complain that he was hungry, she began to feel as if she might pass out entirely just from walking.

  That was when she saw him.

  A tall man with the very same color hair and style as Lord Henry, which Lady Harriette always compared to the wings of a raven, glanced at her. She stopped in her tracks and stared at the man. For one brief moment, she thought for sure she was staring at a much older Lord Henry. But the man merely moved his gaze over her and along up the path, continuing with whatever he was doing.

  She was so shocked that she began to panic. She clutched at her dress and looked all around her.

  What am I doing here? She thought to herself. What in the world have I chosen to do? What was I thinking? How could I—

  “Harriette?”

  She looked up the cobblestone street toward the familiar voice, and saw Charles standing there farther along, his head cocked to one side, peering curiously at her. “Are you feeling all right?”

  She blinked at him a few times, and her panic subsided. She took a deep breath to steady herself.

  “Yes,” she began, looking around. Some of the people walking passed her had begun to stare. “I just need something to eat and to rest my feet.”

  “Well come on, then,” Mr. Barnes said to her, waving her along. “We are almost there.”

  They arrived at the inn in the midafternoon, and she was so desperate for something to eat and drink that she told Madam Stewart to bring her whatever was readily available. She brought her a glass of wine and some fresh bread.

  Mr. Barnes kept hopping up from his seat to greet anyone that walked in, but she didn’t even care anymore. She tried with as much restraint as she could muster not to eat quickly. She felt ravenous, and the thought made her quite sad. Never in her life had she been quite so hungry as she was today, and she found herself blaming this fact on Charles.

  He was a man, and he wanted to be her husband. Didn’t he know how he was supposed to care for her? Didn’t he know that it was his responsibility now to provide for her? When she had told him how tired she was, or how hungry she felt, he simply ignored her to carry on doing what he wished to do.

  She couldn’t understand why he seemed so entirely aloof about the entire thing. She shouldn’t be the one telling him when they should be resting or eating.

  And when was he going to tell her what his plan was? Was this his idea of a romantic excursion on their way to the chapel? Somehow, she was feeling less and less convinced about it as the day went on.

  “Hello there, my dear.”

  She looked up and saw Madam Stewart smiling down at her.

  “Oh, hello,” Lady Harriette replied. “Thank you for the wine, and for the bread.”

  “Don’t mention it dear, you look positively famished,” she said, smiling down at her. “And I hope you still have your appetite; my husband just put a fresh steak and kidney pie in the oven for you and Mr. Barnes. I know it isn’t quite as fancy as some of the foods that you are used to…”

  “That sounds lovely. Thank you,” she replied, and she meant it.

  She heard Charles laugh harshly at something an old fisherman who had walked in some time ago said.

  He will be pleased about supper, she found herself thinking.

  Madam Stewart gazed at her long and hard. “May I sit down with you for a moment?”

  Lady Harriette nodded.

  Madam Stewart slid into an open chair across the table and folded her hands in front of herself.

  “He’s a good lad, you know,” she said quietly, gesturing to Charles.

  “He is indeed,” Lady Harriette said, glancing over at him.

  “He’s been coming here since he was a boy, with his folks. When his mother passed away a few years back, he and his father stopped coming. I think this place held too many painful memories for them. So when he brought you here with him, I realized that this place was almost like home to him. I hope you know how special it is to him. He wanted you to see a part of his history and his life.”

  Lady Harriette remained silent. She wasn’t quite sure how she should reply.

  “That being said…” Madam Stewart began, “You are a very pretty young lady, and I have a hard time understanding why someone such as yourself is with someone like Mr. Barnes.”

  Lady Harriette exhaled through her nose, biting the inside of her
lip. “I’ve known him for quite a long time,” she answered. “We’ve always been friends.”

  “Friends I can understand,” Madam Stewart said. “But marriage…it is something entirely different. And what concerns me is that you are a lady of society, are you not?”

  “Almost,” Lady Harriette replied with a pang of guilt. She saw her mother in her mind’s eye, crying over the dress she was to wear in two weeks’ time to the ball where she would be officially introduced into society. It nearly made her own eyes well up with tears.

  “Dear girl, you aren’t even out in society yet? And you are here with him?”

  Lady Harriette pulled her arms closer to herself, her eyes on the table in front of her. She felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

  Madam Stewart sighed. “Boy, what have you gotten this poor girl into?” she whispered.

  Lady Harriette felt incredibly exposed all of a sudden, and wanted nothing more than for Charles to give her the key to her room so she could retire for the evening. But she didn’t want to approach him at that moment. She wasn’t sure what she would say.

  “Lady…Harriette, was it?”

  She nodded in reply.

  “Lady Harriette, you do not have to do any of this. Has he attempted anything?”

  “No, of course not,” she answered, almost offended. As if she would allow him to lay a hand on her before they were married.

  Madam Stewart seemed to relax. “Then you have the choice to leave if you wish. Nothing is keeping you here, except perhaps your affections for the man. But you must know, dear, you must understand that you do not have to stay with him. You can take a carriage home right now, tonight, and be with your family again before nightfall.”

  She nearly jumped out of her chair to head for the door at that moment. The idea of going home and pretending as if this whole thing never happened was very appealing to her. Life outside of her father’s estate was bizarre and chaotic, and she felt as if she didn’t understand any of it. She missed her family and her friends, especially Lord Henry. The image of that man in the market square flashed across her mind again, and she felt a sudden sorrow.