Once Upon A Regency

by Samantha Grace

  “I won't have anyone say I did not do my best to help a lady in need.” He swept her into his arms.

  Aunt Madeline gasped. “Your Grace—”

  The duke ignored her. He settled Eleanor into the carriage seat. “Bring the lady a blanket, Dwyer. Make her comfortable.”

  Eleanor waved his command away. “This is more than enough, Your Grace.”

  “Wait here, Mr. Wells. I'll send someone to assist you with the carriage.” Aunt Madeline ushered Effie and Emma to the carriage. “Come, girls. We must get your sister home.”

  “Where will we be heading?” the duke asked.

  “Tipperstead End. You know of it?”

  “The Earl of Aldshire's home. Yes, I have been there once or twice. You heard her, Dwyer.” Greenebuck settled near the door. “Just a few moments and we'll be in your drive.”

  He spoke to Eleanor. She tried to smile, but the renewed jostling brought pain into her head like shards of glass.

  “You are the earl's sister and his daughters, then. He spoke of you all fondly last time the House was in session.”

  “Yes, Your Grace. I am Lady Madeline Morton. My nieces are Lady Emma, Lady Eleanor, and Lady Effie. I'm afraid I cannot recall Lord Aldshire speaking of you.” Aunt Madeline's voice was more than a little frosty.

  The duke seemed unperturbed. “I'm away a great deal since the wars ended and my father's passing. I forwent the last two seasons as I tried to manage his estate in Sussex.”

  Aunt Madeline nodded. “Lord Aldshire has an estate there as well.”

  “I am aware. We're neighbors.” The duke beamed. “I grew up wandering between them. Aldshire granted me permission to hunt on Lanthrop Downs. I was great friends with his uncle, you see. I wonder if you know what Aldshire plans to do with the estate?”

  The words melted into a fuzzy sound as Eleanor squeezed her eyes shut. Even the duke's stunning eyes couldn't hold her attention. The world swirled and her stomach clenched.

  Emma rubbed her shoulder. “Nearly there, sweetling. Just a moment longer,” she whispered. “We'll have you tucked in shortly.”

  Minutes were days, but the carriage stopped and Eleanor let out the breath she'd been holding.

  “Do you need help getting Lady Eleanor inside?” the Duke of Greenebuck asked.

  Aunt Madeline shook her head. “Our footman will take care of her. You have our gratitude, Your Grace. I fear we would have been stuck outdoors for some time without your assistance. I shall let Lord Aldshire know of your kindness.”

  “Well, then. I wish for your complete recovery, Lady Eleanor.” The duke took her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles. “Good day to you ladies. We'll stop by again and look in on your coachman.”

  “You are too kind, Your Grace.” Eleanor's skin tingled where his lips had lighted. She let Aunt Madeline pull her away.

  Aunt Madeline hurried to the house while Emma and Effie supported Eleanor. The moment his carriage eased from the drive, she sagged against her sisters. How mortifying to be so weak in front of a handsome man.

  Thank heaven she hadn't lost her lunch on his shiny shoes.

  A DUKE WORTH HIS SALT

  CHAPTER THREE

  A fortnight had passed since Eleanor gazed into Goodwin's eyes. She compared other colors to them, but nothing matched properly. The closest she could come were faux jewels on a pair of her shoes. She'd studied the stones from every angle in her bedroom, trying to recapture the precise shade.

  She'd made subtle inquires about the duke when her friends came to visit and wish her a speedy recovery. He kept a townhouse in London and came to Parliament on necessary business, but he spent the majority of his time at his home in Sussex. It seemed he wasn't in any rush to find a bride. As far as anyone knew, he'd never been married, although he did enjoy the gambling dens and gentlemen's clubs when he tolerated London. He'd held rank in the war against Napoleon, but beyond that, no one seemed to know much about him. Only that his father had been an opinionated man amongst Parliament, though Goodwin was quiet as a churchmouse. He was a mystery. One she couldn't afford to pursue.

  Her headache—the one caused by shopping as well as the accident—vanished after a solid two days recovering in bed. And lots of time spent reflecting on Goodwin's eyes and her father's own injury. As far as she could tell, she hadn't lost any memories. Much as the goose egg behind her ear had hurt, Papa's head wound must have been a hundred times worse.

  She sat with a novel on her lap while Emma sewed and Effie wrote a letter. The days waiting for the Season to begin were boring since Aunt Madeline wasn't planning any parties at Tipperstead End.

  Aunt Madeline entered. “I have news. Your father seems well enough to dine at the table tonight. He's requested each of you to join him. We're having a celebration.”

  For the first time in weeks, Madeline appeared relaxed and happy.

  “Even me?” Eleanor squeezed the book on her hands. “He remembers me?”

  “Of course. He mentioned you by name. 'Make sure Eleanor wears the green dress that goes so well with her hair'. His precise words.” Aunt Madeline smiled. “He's recovered at last.”

  A thrill of excitement bolted through Eleanor. “May I see him?”

  Madeline shook her head. “He's summoned Mr. Quirty to become reacquainted with his business. It's a busy day for him. I must make certain he doesn't overdo it. You will see him soon enough.”

  “Hooray! Does this mean we will get to host a ball during the Season after all?” Effie clapped her hands. “I am so happy.”

  “Be happy because Papa is recovered. His health is worth more than all the King's treasures.” Eleanor removed the novel from her lap. Effie's attitude needed improvement, but because they'd all spoiled the youngest, she wasn't sure Effie would ever change. “I'm going to my room.”

  “Is it your head?” Emma's brow furrowed. “You must take it easy.”

  “No, I am well. I want Ginette to get out my dress and I would like to do something special with my hair before supper.”

  Emma set aside her sewing. “I think I will too. With Papa's health returning, I might be able to talk to him about Adam—erm, Lord Hangingham joining us for a private supper some night.”

  Eleanor took Emma's hand. “I truly hope he will. I'm sure Papa will welcome him.”

  “I hope. Wouldn't it be delightful to announce a wedding?” Emma sighed. “Things are finally coming together.”

  * * * *

  Hundreds of sparkling beads on her dress glittered in the candle and lamplight of the dining room. Eleanor brushed her hand down the front of her bodice. Her nerves jangled as she took her usual seat next to Emma. Across the table, Effie examined her features in the back of a spoon. Aunt Madeline wouldn't approve, but she hadn't appeared yet.

  “That gown fits as well as it did last Season. Pity you cannot wear it again this time around,” Effie said. “No wonder Papa doted on you while you wore it. You look so much like Mama.”

  It wasn't quite true. Their mother had been a smaller woman, more Effie's height, with golden hair like Eleanor's sisters', instead of the red she seemed to have inherited from their father's side. Really, she looked more like Aunt Madeline than any other family member.

  Eleanor ducked her head. “Thank you, Effie.” A niggle of doubt woke in the back of her mind. What if Papa had thought she was Mama the day he came home? What if he thought their mother hadn't been faithful to him?

  Aunt Madeline swept into the room, holding Papa's arm. “Girls.”

  Papa's gaze roved over them, but the pleased look on his face didn't fall an inch when he caught sight of Eleanor. “You all look beautiful tonight.”

  “It's good to see you up and about, Papa.” Eleanor smiled when he sat at the head of the table. “I missed you fiercely.”

  “And I missed my girls. Tonight is special, because I have longed to sit with you again and tell you about my journey to Sussex. We shall have to take a trip there to see the beaches once the weather is w
armer.” The earl picked up his silverware as the staff brought out covered dishes. “The hunting is quite good. I know Eleanor will enjoy the grounds on her rides.”

  He remembered riding with her. The tiny nagging doubts that he might be pretending to recall her fled. “I look forward to it.”

  “We won't go while the Season is underway, will we?” Effie pouted. “It's my first. I want to experience every party.”

  “You will, my dear. Do not fret.” Papa took a deep breath of the roasted lamb in front of him. “Lovely as Sussex was, there is nothing like coming home to a household where a man is known and his preferences made priority. Bless the food, Madeline.”

  After a short prayer, the servants dished out a lavish meal. For the first time in two weeks, Eleanor had an appetite. Papa laughed and regaled them with stories about the land he'd inherited to the south. He described the rolling seashores and admitted he'd started a collection of sea glass and shells to decorate the mantle in the parlor.

  It was like old times, when he'd commanded their attention at the table. Eleanor put his homecoming behind her. There wasn't any use holding on to the cruel things he'd said.

  After the dishes were cleared, the earl sat back in his seat. “What have you girls been up to since your dear papa retreated to the sea?”

  Effie perked up. “I—”

  Eleanor silenced her sister with a wave of her hand. “Emma has something important to say, Papa. She's been waiting so long.”

  “Oh? Let's have it then.” Papa stared intently at his oldest daughter.

  Emma flushed. “Surely you remember the Earl of Hangingham. All the society mothers say what a good catch he would be. I would like to invite him to dine with us, if that pleases you, Papa.”

  “Hangingham?” Papa rested his elbows on the tabletop and pointed his fingers together into a tent. His grey eyebrows drew together. “Does he hunt?”

  “I do not believe so.” Emma lowered her gaze. “We've not had the chance to discuss it, though you could, if we invited him. Perhaps he would like to join you on a ride.”

  “Madeline?”

  Madeline swirled a sip of wine around in her glass. “He would make a good match for Emma. He's not known to have a roguish nature. It's worth exploring, brother.”

  “Very well, extend our wishes for him to join us one evening.”

  Emma blushed and smiled. Beneath the table, she grabbed Eleanor's hand for a squeeze.

  “I'll see to it tomorrow. Perhaps since we've finished, we could take the after dinner conversation to the parlor,” Madeline suggested.

  “A grand idea, sister. Come, girls.” Papa pushed his chair away from the table. He swayed when he found his feet.

  “Aldshire?” Aunt Madeline steadied him. “We've pushed you too much this evening. Let Paternoster help you return to your bedchamber.”

  “No, no. I want to spend the evening with my family.” Papa set his mouth in a straight line. He inhaled and stuck out his chest. “It's been too long.”

  “If you are certain.” Aunt Madeline sounded anything but sure he should.

  “I insist. Come along.” He led the way out of the dining room.

  In the familiar comfort of the parlor, Eleanor joined Emma on the settee.

  “Now that we are settled and stuffed like great gooses, Papa has a question for you girls. I love you each very much and I'm pleased to be home, but I must know...” He scratched his chin and met the gaze of each daughter. So serious, so quiet. He nodded as though giving himself permission to continue.

  A chill ran through Eleanor. He seemed happy, but also unlike himself.

  “I must know how much each of you loves me.”

  A game they'd played when they were younger. The answers were often silly, eliciting laughter from the girls and their father. Some time had passed since they last played—years, in fact. And Papa's face, rapidly losing good humor, seemed rather judgmental.

  Eleanor bit her lip.

  Papa turned to his oldest daughter. “Emma?”

  She tried to smile, but her hands were tightly clasped in her lap and she seemed confused. “Of course I love you, Papa. There has never been a day gone by I haven't loved you as much as sunshine.”

  Papa nodded again. “A very good answer. And you, Effie, how much do you love your father?”

  Effie looked between Emma and Eleanor smugly. Then she beamed and spread her arms wide. “Papa, I love you bigger than the ocean.”

  “That's a great deal,” Papa said. He stared over Effie's head, then pursed his lips before his gaze came back to Eleanor.

  “I—”

  He cut her off before she got it out. “You. Ever the strange one. Not independent like your little sister, nor compliant as your elder sister. Will you even profess to love me?”

  Stung by his sharp words, Eleanor hesitated. “I do not understand. Are you trying to make us compete for your affection? Why would you want that? There is no way to measure the feelings we have for you. Isn't it enough that we love you?”

  Papa's face reddened. “What right do you have to defy me? I demand an answer.”

  “Salt, Papa.” She lifted her chin and straightened her back. “I love you as much as salt.”

  The silly old answer she'd often used in years gone by. He had to know what it meant.

  His scowl faded in confusion. “You mean as many grains of salt as there in a cellar?”

  “No, only that I love you.” Eleanor stared at her hands. “I do not think you are yourself.”

  He huffed. “Salt is a common seasoning that sits on every table except the poorest. There is nothing exceptional about it. Your sisters declare love like sunshine and huge bodies of water, but you. You insult me with a seasoning.”

  “It was not meant to insult you,” Eleanor said. “If you will listen—”

  He rose, his face red, his fists clenched. “Out! I want you out of here. Away from me, away from London, away from my daughters. You're nothing but a troublemaker. Paternoster, remove this woman at once.”

  “Aldshire, you cannot give that order.” Madeline touched his shoulder. “She meant nothing by it. Eleanor is your beloved daughter. I believe it's time to retire for the evening.”

  “Stand down, Madeline. This is my home no matter how long I have been away. This miscreant you are attempting to pass off as my daughter is not fooling anyone.” Papa's voice grew louder with every word.

  Eleanor cringed and hugged herself. Madeline had insisted he was well again. How had the evening dissolved into this?

  “Paternoster, you must assist Lord Aldshire to bed.” Madeline strove to speak over Papa's mad ranting. “Girls, to your rooms, immediately.”

  Effie scrambled out of her chair, then ran for the hallway. Emma, mouse-like, crept away and threw worried glances over her shoulder as she left the room.

  Eleanor remained, her hands curled into the settee cushions, until Paternoster dragged Papa from the parlor.

  Madeline smoothed her hand over her hair and sighed. “How unpleasant.”

  “He's not all right, is he? Something is terribly broken in his mind. He isn't even aware of who I am.”

  “I think that would be a fair assumption, Eleanor. Your father is not doing as well as we hoped.” Madeline sank into her chair. “This is terrible timing with the Season and Emma's wish to be courted by Lord Hangingham.”

  “His physician cannot say when he will start behaving normally again? There are not any clues?” She couldn't tolerate another visit with him that ended as this one had. He was ill, but his raging upset her.

  “I will send for him in the morning. No need to interrupt his evening meal with this difficulty.”

  “Aunt Madeline.” Eleanor stood. “I do not know what I have done to distress him so, but we cannot carry on this way. It's frightening Emma and Effie. I am worried beyond measure that my presence here is making him worse. I think it might be best if I went away.”

  Madeline stared. “To where? This is your home.”<
br />
  “Lanthrop Downs. Papa cannot return there in his state and at present no one is there but a servant or two and the farm keepers. It would get me safely out of the way until Papa feels better. I'm sure I could return before the end of the Season.” She hated the idea of leaving, however if his fits continued, she'd be more dejected than she was now.

  “Absolutely not. You are too young to travel there without a chaperon and that's one more detail I do not need to fret about. We have already ordered your dresses for this Season. I will not have any of that be a waste. I need you and Emma to integrate Effie into society. There will be no more talk of leaving, is that clear?” Madeline, stiff, formal and pretending great control, glared. “You should get some rest. I still plan to invite Lord Hangingham to dine with us. Tomorrow if it can all be arranged. You must look presentable to show your sister in the best light.”

  Tired of fighting, Eleanor retreated to the quiet of her room. Her supper sat heavy in her stomach and her mind brewed trouble.

  The door opened and Emma slipped in. She stared at Eleanor a moment. “I heard everything. I cannot imagine how Papa's ravings make you feel. It is selfish and wretched, but I'm glad I am not in your place.” Tears rolled down her face. “I wonder if he will ever recover.”

  “In time.” But when would enough of it pass? “Do not fret about me. I am tougher than I look.” Inside, she wept with her sister.

  “Oh, Eleanor, you are, but this isn't fair.” Emma joined her on the bed. “I've thought of something.”

  “What?” She rubbed her eyes. As much as she loved her sister, if she had to hear another word about Lord Hangingham this evening, she'd be forced to send Emma away.

  “If Aunt Madeline can get Adam over for dinner, it would be the perfect time for you to sneak away. You could visit Lanthrop Downs and collect your wits. Madeline wouldn't come for you. I will have Effie keep her busy. That part will be simple, because our dear little sister has such a flair for dramatics.”

  “Emma, it was a silly idea—”

  Her sister raised her hand. “No, listen. I cannot stand to see you wring yourself out over this. Papa might be better tomorrow and may never realize any of this happened, but it's torture watching him belittle you. The best thing to do is wait for the moment when he comes to his senses. We'll send for you then. Effie and I already know you do not want to participate in this Season. In the country, you won't have to worry about it. It's for your own health, Eleanor. It is what Papa would want if he had his old personality back. Except he would not want to send you away, but...oh, you know what I mean.”