A Courtship to Remember: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  “And was she?”

  Anthony looked down. “No, she did not notice the petals so concerned was she about the rain clouds overhead.”

  “Typical Diana.”

  “Will you continue to interrupt and mock me, or shall I continue?”

  “Oh, please do continue. I would like to hear the good part.”

  “There is no good part – she rejected me.”

  Felton waved his hand. "Just continue."

  “Another side remark and I shall have you thrown off these premises.”

  Felton smiled. “You can try. Now please, continue.”

  His friend was the one person who he wished he could tip a settler but could never. Not only was he his friend, but his brother and closest confidante. He would never hurt him, not even for Diana.

  “What?” Felton suddenly exclaimed. “Has Diana aged you as well? You are taking rather long to tell this story. You may no longer have a life, but I assure you that I do.”

  “You do know that you came here of your own accord? You can leave the same way as well.”

  His friend only proceeded to regard him with a 'devil may care' look, a smile playing about his lips. Anthony narrowed his eyes but continued with the story.

  “I led her to her favourite part of the garden, the one where I hid the statue of the sea nymph.”

  "Ah, I know that very well. I can see why she would like that, although I would have described her more as a siren. You know, leading seamen to their deaths and all that."

  Anthony sighed. "You are not helping, Felton. And to correct you, sea nymphs also led men to their deaths."

  “Sea nymph, siren – it is all the same to me.”

  Anthony shook his head. “Greek mythology was never your strong suit.”

  "But I did love to look at the statues of the goddesses in Greece. I must have memorised them all to heart."

  “I shall gift the sea nymph statue to you – it may do you more good than it did me.”

  “I shall never accept such an accursed thing. Would you have your same fate befall me?”

  “I never did take you to be a superstitious gentleman, Felton. When did all of this come to be?”

  “The minute you just told me that she rejected you at the sea nymph statue. Now please, continue with this story. I have become bored with your beating around the bush.”

  Anthony opened his mouth to argue but then thought better of it. Felton was purposely baiting him, no doubt trying to lure him out of his current state of mind.

  “I sat her down and professed my love for her, to which she replied that she knows full well how I feel about her. She did not tell me her own feelings for me. In hindsight, perhaps I should have pressed her. It may have saved me my heartache.”

  "It is a bit late for should have, old friend."

  “Yes. Well, I got down on my one knee and fished out my mother's ring from my pocket.”

  He paused as he remembered her reaction. It had not been delight, but horror. He had paid it no mind much to his detriment.

  “And then?” Felton urged.

  “I asked her to do me the honour of becoming my wife. She laughed in my face.”

  In fact, she had told him to stop embarrassing himself and get off the floor. Anthony had protested, insisting that they were meant to be together. He winced as he remembered how pitiful he had sounded.

  “She is one harsh woman. What did she say to you?”

  Anthony took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Thinking about those words caused a lump in his throat, a lump that he had to swallow hard before continuing. Felton must have understood because he did not press him for an immediate answer.

  “Well, uh, she told me that she could never love a man like me. She informed me that I was simply too serious for her, that I was dragging her down, and that she wished to live her life without being shackled to a man like myself.”

  And then like a fool he had cried and begged her to reconsider, hoping to change her heart. This part of the story he decided to leave out, not wishing to add to his humiliation. Felton was his oldest friend, and yet there were some things that were not easily spoken out loud, not even to a friend.

  “I hear that she is now in France, living with a great aunt.”

  “Yes, you would be correct.”

  Felton sat back in his chair, apparently taken aback by Anthony's description of the incident.

  “I knew that Diana could be cruel, but I did not know that she would speak such things to you. No wonder you are in this state.”

  "Does this mean that you will now leave me alone?" he asked hopefully.

  “Not a chance. I promised Clayton that I would get you out of bed, washed, shaved and into your normal routine. They have all been worried about you.”

  Anthony felt shame seep into him. He could finally see that he had been selfish these past few days, refusing to see anyone, speak to anyone, and deal with anything. His servants had had to deal with his anger, his moodiness, and his drunken ways. He vaguely remembered throwing a tray of food out of the room and onto the head of a maid, who happened to be walking below the stairs. He had not stopped to apologise but stomped off back into the room and fell onto his bed, a bottle of whiskey glued to his hand.

  “I have not been treating them well, have I? Has anyone walked out yet?”

  “I do not believe so, but Mrs Hubbard is mighty close to doing so.”

  Mrs Hubbard was his housekeeper, who prided herself on a clean and well-run house. It must have been difficult for her to resist coming into his room to organise it as it should be. She had been with the family since he was twelve, working with his mother to run the house until her death some years back. Although Anthony was already in his twenties when his mother had died, Mrs Hubbard had taken it upon herself to watch over him like a mother hen. What would she say to him regarding Diana? Even she had warned him away from her, telling him that nothing could come of a courtship with a woman who had a wild look to her eyes.

  “Shall I call Clayton and have him draw you a bath? You need one.”

  “Not yet. I have only just woken up.” He needed time to digest everything.

  After a moment of thinking and obsessing, Anthony decided that there was only one course of action left to him.

  “ I want to win her back.”

  “You what?”

  “I want to win her back. She is the only one whom I love, Felton. She has made a mistake and will soon realise it. Wasn't it her wild nature that had attracted me to her? The fact that I cannot pin her down even for a second. She has been a challenge for me, a challenge that I love with all of my heart. She is confused. She will come to her sense soon enough. However, I need to figure out a way to win her back.”

  Felton stared at him, his expression incredulous. "Have you gone barking mad? Win her back? Do you hear yourself?"

  “Loud and clear. This is the first time I have been sure about something since she rejected me.”

  Felton stood up and started to pace the room, his movements tense and agitated.

  "You have gone barking mad, that is what has happened. Did you knock your head? That must be it because you have certainly lost your mind."

  Anthony stood up, swaying ever so slightly. “I am not crazy, I am a determined man. You must first hear what I have to say before you judge me.”

  “Will you be speaking the same hogwash that I have just heard?”

  “If you would just give me a moment and listen to me, perhaps then you will not see it as hogwash.”

  Felton shook his head, but he returned to his seat. Anthony could see that his friend was not impressed with his wish to win Diana back, but he was sure that it was the only way. Perhaps she does not believe that I am committed enough.

  “What ludicrous plan have you concocted in that foolish brain?”

  “Well, I do not have a plan yet, but if you expect me to leave this room, you have to promise that you will assist me in winning Diana back.”

 
“This is an emotional suicide mission, Anthony. There is no justification for what you want to do. The woman hurt you, she humiliated and rejected you, is that not enough?”

  “She is confused. She will come around eventually.”

  Felton just shook his head. “You need to forget about Diana Lambert. Forget about her and get on with your life. Life is too short to spend it running after people who do not love you.”

  “But she does love me, Felton, she does. She just needs to realise it and accept it.”

  Felton got up again, determination clear on his aristocratic face. “I propose a solution.”

  “If it is to assist me with winning Diana back, then I agree.”

  "Just listen to what I have to say. What do you say to your servants packing your trunk and having you accompany me to the London season?"

  “The London season? Whatever for? I do not understand.”

  Anthony had no desire to be watched by young women all looking for a suitor. He had been forced to attend more times than he cared to count, and each and every time he had come away with the same opinion: women were dull, simpering fools without a thought in their heads. Anthony did not want a woman without a mind of her own. That was why he had been attracted to Diana. She did what she wanted to, went where she wanted to and said what she wanted to, all with a charm that surpassed any other he had so far seen in a woman. Diana was simply perfect. Well, almost.

  "Many young, beautiful women would love to marry you. You need only look and see if any of them catch your fancy. I am sure you will find a woman more suited to you.”

  “I highly doubt that. Every season that I have been to has been disappointing.”

  “At least you can dance and flirt with them. That should take your mind off your obsession with Diana.”

  “And you? What will you be doing for the London season?”

  “The same as you – dancing and flirting. I hear that the pickings for this year are lovely indeed.”

  “I do not know...”

  “But if you do not at least try, how will you know? You might find a nice, pretty wife who will take Diana's place in your heart and make you forget about her. It is possible.”

  “But highly unlikely. Diana has no equal.”

  “I beg to differ. Diana is a beautiful woman, but there are others who are far more beautiful and intelligent than her.”

  “None of them is Diana.”

  "That is the point, Anthony. You do not need another Diana in your life. Look at what she has done to you already. Why would you want to repeat this? You know, I am exhausted from discussing this matter over and over again with you. You are coming with me, and that is final."

  Felton moved to the door, sticking his head around it. “Clayton!” he shouted.

  “What are you doing?” Anthony demanded.

  Clayton appeared less than a minute later, hardly out of breath.

  “Yes, Sir Nicholson?”

  "Please prepare Lord Bedford's trunk – we are going to the London season."

  "No, we are not. I have not agreed to this, Felton. Clayton, do not touch my trunk."

  His steward looked at him, torn between listening to his master or Felton.

  "Lord Bedford," he said. "If you would permit me to talk?"

  “Yes, yes. Go ahead.”

  “Thank you. I truly believe it good for you to attend the London season. Perhaps you may not find a wife, but you will not be wallowing in your chambers as you have been doing so.”

  Had his steward just told him that he was wallowing? He was right, servant or no. He knew that Clayton just wanted the best for him. Always had.

  "Thank you for your advice, Clayton, but I am perfectly happy as I am."

  Both Felton and Clayton raised their eyebrows, regarding him with disbelief.

  “Do as I say, Clayton,” Felton said. “I guarantee you that the baron will be accompanying me to the London season.”

  "Excellent, Sir Nicholson." Clayton took his leave, bowing before he left.

  “You had no right to do that, Felton.”

  “As a friend who sticks closer than any brother, I believe that I have every right.”

  In defiance, Anthony crawled into bed, adjusted his pillow, and closed his eyes. He heard the sound of a water jug full of water being filled and footsteps coming towards him. He opened his eyes to see Anthony with the jug suspended in the air, ready to douse him good and proper.

  “You would not dare to empty the contents of that jug onto me.”

  “I certainly would and probably will unless you get yourself out of this room. I shall drag you kicking and yelling if I have to.”

  Anthony could see that his friend meant it. I do not fancy being wet in this manner. But neither will I allow myself to be bullied into doing something that I am not prepared to do.

  “Wet me if you will, but I prefer to remain in this bed and figure out a way to get my Diana back.”

  “I cannot stand this wallowing. Where is your self-respect? I shall not wet this bed out of respect to those who will have to clean up the mess, but I shall not leave this house without you.”

  Felton returned the jug to its place and came back, before lunging at him and pulling him by the legs.

  “What do you think you are doing?”

  “Getting you out of bed. What does it look like I am doing?”

  Felton seemed to be enjoying this if anything was to go by his amused expression. Anthony was half off the bed by the time he called a truce.

  “All right! All right! I'll go, just stop manhandling me!”

  Felton let him go, laughing. “That was hardly manhandling, but I am glad that you have come to your senses. We leave tomorrow.”

  “Oh, what great joy.”

  "Your sarcasm is a refreshing change from your self-pity."

  Anthony crawled back onto the bed, feeling somewhat dizzy. “You are quite a meddlesome friend, do you know that?”

  “I prefer the term 'concerned', but I shall let it slide this one time. You even sound more like yourself.”

  “I am glad that I have pleased you, master.”

  Felton laughed. “Master, I quite like the sound of that.”

  “Well, do not get too used to it. Now, get out of my room and let me rest.”

  "After you have bathed and eaten, in that order. No one wants a ripe-smelling baron around them, no matter how wealthy he is."

  Anthony covered his eyes with the back of his hand, feeling the dull throb of his headache.

  "Do me a favour and ask Mrs Hubbard to concoct that foul smelling drink for my state? I need to get this alcohol out of my system. I am going to need my wits about me, especially with you attempting to run my life."

  “You should be grateful that you have me as a friend instead of complaining. I shall organise your bath.”

  Anthony lifted his hand as his friend left the room, watching him pick his way through whatever was on the floor. I am grateful to call you my friend. In fact, he was beyond grateful.

  It looked as though he was going to the season after all.

  Chapter 4

  Elizabeth sat by the pianoforte, hands suspended above the keys. She was troubled, but she could not understand why.

  “I should just play something, perhaps the feeling will melt away with the flow of the music,” she said to herself.

  Her index finger pressed down on the key, producing a high note. She released it, alarmed that no music came to mind.

  “What has happened to me?”

  She tried again, randomly pressing a key in the hopes that a melody would rise up within her and transfer into the instrument. Nothing.

  “Rather than produce something from memory, I should look at a music sheet.”

  She looked through several sheets, trying to find one that matched her current mood. She settled on a recent piece, one that she had copied from a neighbour. As she played, she heard herself hit a few false notes. Elizabeth was not accustomed to that happening. Perhaps a
note or two, yes, but not so many that she had to pull her hands away from the pianoforte in horror.

  “What has happened to me? This is not like me!”

  She got up and walked away, her brow creased with worry. Something is wrong, she thought. I can sense it. The door opened to reveal her sister walking in while biting into an apple. Elizabeth did not say a word to her but continued to pace up and down the room, her hands stiff with tension.