Once Upon A Regency

by Samantha Grace

  His father gave him a stern look. Despite the absence, he knew his son well. Graham had always been handsome and very popular with the ladies. “She is a maiden, and a favorite cousin of the Prince Regent. You will mind your manners. That goes for all of you.”

  Nickolas rolled his eyes. “You only need give the warning to Graham. I have heard of Lady Beaumont. The richest and most noble men press for her favor, but she refuses to choose a husband. She will not be interested in any of us.”

  “You know of the lady?” Thomas turned to his youngest brother. Nick tended to be shy.

  “Of course, Tom. You can’t be in London and not hear of Lady Charlotte. Woven hair of gold, and eyes blue as the sea. Rosy red lips, and as sweet as the summer dawn. She is also well known for her work in orphanages and soup kitchens. She is said to be as beautiful as she is fair. I haven’t actually met her, but she is on the tongue of every man in London and beyond.”

  The baron’s grimace had turned to a full scowl. “How are we ever going to entertain such a lady?”

  Will patted his father on the back and spoke quietly, “We will do the best we can. How long do we have until she arrives?”

  “Less than a fortnight, depending on the weather.” The baron sighed.

  Tom stood, squaring his lean shoulders. “We will begin first thing in the morning. We should get a good’s night sleep. Tales of our adventures will have to wait for another day.”

  The brothers agreed and headed to their old rooms. Tomorrow the work would begin.

  * * * *

  Charlotte Beaumont sat atop her dappled white horse. Her father would have preferred she ride in the carriage, but she couldn’t abide it. It was hot and dull. Her chaperones, because her father insisted she have two, talked incessantly. It was also, in her opinion, more dangerous. She was clueless to the world around her in that carriage. It made her feel like a pheasant waiting to be shot and roasted.

  She didn’t blame her father. Most men would think a lady should ride in the carriage. Certainly Lord Bolton, the gentleman she had just visited, would think that it was necessary.

  Her father had insisted that she stop and stay with aristocrats along the journey. He said it was for her protection, but she was no fool. Each of her stops had included eligible and acceptable men for marriage.

  She knew this was the only reason her father had allowed her to visit Elizabeth; he was trying to marry her in the process. He reminded her constantly that she was almost one and twenty and should be married. Although, he had been unusually insistent recently, almost as though he was possessed.

  The visit with Lord Bolton had been particularly painful. He was full of praise, of course. “Your hair is like spun gold. Your eyes are like the sea. Such a small waist you have compared with…” He had let his words fall off but she could see the lust in his eyes. She tried not to roll her own. She had heard it so many times, it had lost meaning to her.

  She knew she was beautiful. Big blue eyes that tilted up at the corners. She had a straight nose and full lips. Her jaw was a little strong for a woman but her high cheekbones mostly hid it. Her breasts that were almost overlarge for her waist and her hips flared out suggestively. Honestly, Charlotte found her looks to mostly be a curse. Between her beauty and the title her husband would inherit, men rarely left her alone. It was so difficult to sort out who truly cared for her and who just lusted after her or her title or both.

  It wasn’t that she was opposed to marriage. Look at Elizabeth—she had fallen madly in love with a Scot, and now she was having his child. Her letters glowed with happiness. Charlotte wanted what her friend had. She wasn’t going to marry for less than love. Unlike many titles and estates, her father’s was not entailed which meant she was free to inherit it. She didn’t need a husband or a male relative.

  With all that said, she had met a few men she had considered as suitors. Men she at least thought she could grow to love. But six months ago, that had all changed. She couldn’t explain it and it was particularly troubling. It almost felt as though she had been cursed. If a lady could believe in that sort of thing.

  She had first met him at a dinner party held by the Earl of Winthrop. Allister Bard, the Marquess of Huntly had singled her out almost immediately. He walked straight up to her and looked her over from top to bottom. There was something sinister in the way his narrow beady eyes traveled over her. His greasy black hair was slicked back and pulled into a ponytail at the nape. He was tall and broad but the set of his shoulders was rigid and angry. His thin lips were set into a hard line. There was no softness about him.

  “You are Lady Beaumont, cousin to Ewan MacPherson?” The marquess’ eyes narrowed and his lips thinned even more. She shivered at the sound of his voice.

  “Y-Yes. It is a p-p-pleasure to meet you,” she stuttered out.

  He smiled slightly, twisting his face even further. Charlotte felt herself cringe. “You’ll do,” he spoke softly, almost to himself. Then he turned and walked away.

  He had made her shiver in fear. She would risk being trapped by any man to avoid the marquess of Huntly. She shivered again despite the heat. The marquess had continued to pursue her over the last year making her increasingly uncomfortable. No wonder her father had arranged these visits.

  Now she was to stay in the home of the Fairfields. Not one but four eligible brothers lived at the manor. They must be hideous to all still be unwed. The house was set to ruins which meant that their father would surely want to match her with one of the brothers.

  Her own father would approve. He wouldn’t have arranged the visit if he didn’t. He must be getting desperate or he wouldn’t be suggesting sons of a poor baron for her suitors. Her close relationship with the Prince Regent meant that her husband would be accepted by society.

  Charlotte came to a crossroads. The sun was setting to the west. Night would fall soon. Her two servants riding with her stopped just behind her. There was a sign for the Fairfield Manor, but it was pointing the way she had just come. Her eyebrows furrowed. Her thought was to head north but she had no way of knowing if that was the right path. Should she take the wrong one, she could be stuck in the woods for the night.

  Suddenly a fierce gust of wind whipped the still summer air. The sign began spinning around its post. Around and around it went until slowly, it creaked to a stop. The sign now pointed due north. The wind had slowed to a gentle breeze that tickled her cheeks after a long day in the saddle. It seemed almost delighted with its own antics. Charlotte laughed at the absurdity of a moving sign but somehow, it seemed right to be guided by the wind. She kicked her horse forward.

  STEALING A LADY’S HEART

  CHAPTER TWO

  The Fairfield men stood in a line. Charlotte could see them as she came up the long drive.

  One man stepped forward. She could only assume this was Baron Fairfield but from this distance it was difficult to tell.

  “Welcome to Harlington Manor,” his voice boomed over the courtyard.

  Charlotte paused for half a second when she heard the baron speak. It was a rich, deep masculine voice. The kind that instilled confidence and support. She knew the baron wasn’t successful but his voice didn’t match with a man who was failing. She moved closer to the men and glanced behind the baron. The four men standing behind him all looked like specimens. Tall, strong, and broad-shouldered, each man stood with his legs shoulder-width apart, hands clasped in front of them.

  It suddenly occurred to her what all her other suitors lacked. This display of masculinity was impressive, and Charlotte felt her insides flutter. She knew these gentlemen had been sent to work and it showed in the strength of their shoulders. They stood silently, assuming the manner of strong capable men. So many of the men in her class were preening arrogant fools.

  She drew closer. The baron reached for her hand and she accepted, stepping down from the horse. His smile was warm. “We are honored to have you as our guest, Lady Beaumont.”

  She bowed her head, dropping in a s
light curtsey. “The honor is mine, Baron Fairfield.”

  “May I introduce you to my oldest son, Lord William Fairfield?” He gestured towards the first man in line.

  “Will, my lady. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He gave a single nod to emphasize his point.

  Charlotte nodded her head in return. She was surprised that he was so informal. Most aristocrats were droning on and on about their titles. He was not exactly handsome, but he was not unpleasant to look at either. He had rich dark hair and eyes. Broad and strong, his features were a little flat but there was warmth in his gaze and not the kind that made her uncomfortable.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Will.” She smiled a little at the informality.

  The baron turned her attention to the next man. “My second son, the Honorable Thomas Fairfield.”

  “Tom,” he chuckled softly as he nodded.

  Her smile grew. “Pleasure Tom.” He was a more slender man although more handsome. His face was thinner but his smile was pleasant.

  “This is my youngest son, the Honorable Nickolas Fairfield, or Nick.” The baron slapped his fourth son on the back.

  “It is an honor, my lady.” Nick swept into a deep bow with a twinkle in his eye.

  Charlotte broke into a full grin and she nearly laughed out loud. “The honor is mine.”

  “This is my third son, the Honorable Graham Fairfield.” The baron gestured toward the last man in line.

  The smile died on Charlotte’s face. He was the best of all his brothers. Tall and broad, he had warm brown eyes that danced now with amusement. His dark hair softly curled around his ears, rustling slightly in the breeze around his firm, strong jaw. His straight nose lent him the air of an aristocrat. His lips were full and softly curved in a smile. “P-Pleasure.” She actually stumbled over the word. Charlotte felt her cheeks growing pinker.

  The cad laughed and cocked one eyebrow. “My lady.” He bowed slightly but it seemed to mock her even as his eyes drank her in.

  Her lips pursed. She straightened her shoulders. Charlotte had never allowed a man to unsettle her like this and she found it irritating. How dare he laugh at her? Charlotte glared at him with open hostility. Shaking her head, she turned back to Baron Fairfield.

  “Let us go inside. You must be tired and hungry after such a long journey.” The baron gestured toward the front door.

  “That sounds lovely.” The baron took her arm and Charlotte turned away from Graham, purposefully avoiding his eyes. Instead, she looked toward the crumbling manor. Repairs were being made but Charlotte wondered if it would be enough to save the place.

  Not that she minded, although some ladies would. She had never cared for material items. She often felt most comfortable when at the orphanage in plain clothes or out in the country where she knew she wasn’t being watched.

  Even if all that weren’t true, she already liked the family. She could certainly forgive them hard times. They were warmer and more masculine than any man she had met in a long time. Well, she liked them all except for Graham. His cocky manner irritated her. She couldn’t believe she had stuttered in front of him. It was ridiculous. He was obviously used to women fawning over him. Why, he was probably a rake.

  She stole a glance at him behind her. His walk had a confident, casual air that made her breathless. Looking at his broad shoulders and narrow hips filled her body with heat. A sudden blush stained her cheeks. She quickly turned back around. Charlotte gritted her teeth. She would not allow herself to be interested in a likely rogue.

  Charlotte turned toward the baron, while her servants were carrying a few essentials in. “If I could just have a few moments to freshen up.”

  “Of course. Our butler will show you to your rooms. Wadsworth.” He turned to an ancient looking man who nodded tiredly in return.

  * * * *

  Graham watched the gentle sway of her hips as she ascended the staircase. As she disappeared down the hall to her room, he let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping. He glanced over at his brothers who were also staring at the spot where she had disappeared.

  “Egads, she’s a looker.” Nick quirked a lopsided grin.

  “Did you see her hair? Spun gold doesn’t do it justice.” Tom wiggled his eyebrows.

  “The eyes, the lips, the hips. That woman is an angel from Heaven.” Graham rested his elbow on the banister and leaned his face on his fist.

  “Not too fussy either. Never said a word about the manor being so worn down. Friendly to us even though we’re not as titled or rich,” Will said glancing up the stairs towards her room again.

  “Don’t get any ideas, boys. She is rich and titled and will not be marrying a poor baron’s son. And she is certainly not for anything other than marrying.” Baron Fairfield looked directly at his son Graham.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Tom grinned. “She loved him than hated him in the span of a second. His personality is always getting in the way of his good looks.”

  Graham good-naturedly punched his brother’s arm, meeting Tom’s grin. Graham had also noticed Charlotte’s annoyance with him. He hadn’t meant anything by the chuckle when she had stuttered, but he supposed that men never laughed at her. They were too busy trying to impress her. Well, there was nothing he could do about that. He wouldn’t work to impress her. It was a fool’s errand.

  The men headed to the drawing room to have a drink, expecting to wait awhile. But Charlotte soon reappeared. Will cocked an eyebrow at Graham, who gave a single nod. Will’s theory about her not being fussy was further proven. The group headed to the great hall to share a meal.

  * * * *

  Charlotte assessed the men around her as she ate. The brothers were silently eating, their plates loaded with food. They must be helping with the house repair. There was no way they could be that thin and eat that much if they weren’t doing hard labor.

  Charlotte blushed as her gaze glanced over Graham’s body. It was lean, hard and masculine. She was instantly furious with herself.

  “How have your travels been, Lady Beaumont?” Baron Fairfield asked.

  “Please call me Charlotte.” She already felt more comfortable here than she had anywhere else on this trip. In truth, she felt more comfortable here than she had for the past year in London. Every male in her life had been acting strangely since she met the marquess, including her father. Every man until the Fairfields.

  “Thank you, Charlotte. Please, call me Will.” He placed his hand over his heart and nodded his head.

  “My travels have been fine, thank you, Will. If I were honest, I expected a little more adventure. My father has arranged so many stops and I seem to be visiting far more than I am traveling.”

  “Be careful what you wish for, Lady Charlotte.” Graham’s eyes met hers in a level stare, but hers narrowed. How dare he tell her how to act?

  “I am certain I don’t need your advice.” Charlotte tossed her golden curls. His comments seemed to rile her. It was irritating

  “The world can be a dangerous place. Women of your station must be careful. Adventure can ruin—”

  “I don’t need a lecture from you! What do you know about life for a woman of my station?” Her voice was rising with each word.

  Tom stepped in, changing the subject. “Tell us about your friend in Scotland.”

  Charlotte’s anger melted into a moment’s sadness before she put a smile on her face. She had to admit, at least to herself, that she wanted to find the love her friend had. “Elizabeth married a year ago and is gloriously happy. Now she is expecting their first child. I want to be there for my friend when the baby comes.”

  “That is very kind of you,” Nick casually remarked.

  “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her.” Charlotte looked down at her lap. She did love her friend with all her heart, but she was a little ashamed of being jealous.

  “She is lucky to have a friend like you,” Graham added quietly.

  Charlotte’s head snapped up and she stared at him for a momen
t, searching for fault in his statement. Her desire to lash out at him must have been written all over her face because he drew himself up in his seat, meeting her eyes. His liquid brown eyes stared unwavering at her. They made her breath catch in her chest. “Thank you,” she finally mumbled.

  Charlotte closed her eyes for half a second. Why was she so emotional? Graham had gotten under her skin somehow and it was wreaking havoc on her senses.

  Conversation died down again and she was glad for the reprieve. She glanced at Graham again under her lashes. He took a small bite of food. Watching his lips made her insides flutter. She looked back down at her plate. She tried to recall a man she had found more handsome. She couldn’t think of one. Then she tried to remember when she had been so annoyed by someone. No one came to mind either. It completely puzzled her.

  The meal concluded and the men around her looked at her with a question in their eyes. Usually, the men went to smoke while the women retired. With no other women about, it was slightly awkward. “Gentlemen, if you will excuse me, I think I will retire. It was a long day in the saddle.”

  “Of course,” the baron exclaimed as all the men stood.

  She nodded and then began walking towards the door. “Good night everyone.”

  * * * *

  The men watched her retreat. When she had disappeared, Graham shook his head. “What do you think I did?” he asked perplexed. Charlotte seemed constantly irritated with him. He had never met someone who took such an instant dislike to him.

  “Like I said, your personality is seriously lacking.” Tom guffawed at his own joke.

  Graham cracked a smile at his brother’s bad attempt at humor. “You must be right.”

  His father slapped him on the back. “We should try to keep our guest happy. Perhaps…”

  “I will try to keep my distance from Lady Beaumont.” Graham crossed his arms over his chest and rocked back on his heels. He found Charlotte anything but annoying. It was probably best that she didn’t like him much.

  * * * *