Searching Hearts Box Set: Books 1-5

by St. Clair, Ellie

  Showing respect, however, she set her book down and waited patiently for her father to either take a chair or to lean on the mantelpiece as he usually did when he had something to say. She remained seated as she looked up at her father, who was impeccably dressed as always, in direct contradiction to the wispy gray hair that flew about his head in every direction. His sharp eyes turned to her, making butterflies take flight in Christina’s stomach. Something was the matter. Something that she felt concerned her. Her father never looked at her with such attention. What was it he was going to say?

  “Has this something to do with my future, Father?” she asked, a mixture of nerves and hope beginning to flutter in her chest. “Will you finally be taking me to London?”

  He never spoke much of what was to become of her. He had yet to take her to London for a Season, though he’d promised to after her brother had been married. Christina knew that in her father’s eyes she was not nearly as important nor deserving of as much consideration as her brother, but that didn’t bother her so much as the lack of opportunity to determine what her fate might be.

  Christina had heard her father mutter before that she read far too much and that she ought to be concentrating on how to better her looks, but she chose not to listen. She was never going to be beautiful in the way her father hoped. Perhaps that was the problem. He had always wanted to present his daughter as a ‘diamond of the first water,’ as he always said, but she had never quite managed to fulfil his expectations. She had the fair hair required for such a thing, yes, but her gray eyes, less than slender neck, and pronounced bosom meant that she would never be heralded with such a title. It was not that she was ugly, she felt, but rather that she was perhaps a bit plain and a little plump — and no amount of curling her hair or having her maid apply a touch of rouge was ever going to change that. She had tried to avoid sweets, but it seemed no matter what she did, she always looked the same.

  “My dear,” her father boomed in his usual loud voice, ignoring her questions as if she hadn’t spoken at all. “I have something of importance to tell you.”

  “Oh?” Christina murmured, putting her arms around her middle in an attempt to keep her breathing steady. “And what is that, Father?”

  He tilted his head, a small smile spreading across his face that brought a slight relief to her nervousness.

  “I am to take you to London, my dear. For the Season.”

  Christina stared at her father for a long time, not quite sure what to say. She had been right! She had never thought it would happen. For years, her father had made a multitude of excuses as to why she could not go to London for the Season but now, finally, after all this time, she was to be allowed to go.

  “Are you not going to say anything?” He beamed, looking at her with raised eyebrows. “I thought you would be pleased.”

  “I am very pleased,” Christina breathed, her voice nothing more than a whisper as she allowed a smile to finally break across her face. “I — I can hardly believe it, Father!”

  He chuckled. “I am sure you will make a marvelous impression, my dear. Not that it matters all that much, I must say.”

  The excitement faded somewhat as she looked at her father, noticing the gleam in his eye, and she studied him more carefully. Oh no, she realized, this was not just a simple trip to London in order to find herself a gentleman; there was more planned. She had seen that look in her father’s eyes at another time. A time when he had been making arrangements for her brother.

  “Father,” she said slowly, sitting forward a little on the chaise as her book toppled off the arm of the lounger and fell to the floor. “What do you mean, it will not matter?”

  The smile faded slightly from her father’s expression as he looked back at her from where he now leaned heavily on the mantelpiece. “It is only that you need not worry about finding yourself a suitable gentleman, my dear, for I have found one for you.”

  Her world seemed to slow to a stop, freezing in place. This was not what she had expected. She had longed for a Season, longed for a time where she might meet and dance and converse with all manner of gentlemen, but it seemed, while she might still do that, she would not be given the opportunity to choose a husband for herself. She would not be courted, would not have the pleasure of being taken for carriage rides, to the theatre, or simply for a stroll in the park by a man she might herself have an interest in. It was already decided for her. Worst of all, she had no choice over the person she was to spend the rest of her life with. Perhaps if she had been prepared for this, it would have been easier to accept. But never had her father made mention of the fact that he had any interest in creating a match for her, and so she had allowed her imagination to fill with possibilities.

  “I thought it best this way,” her father continued somewhat airily as though he had done her a wonderful favor. “You will not have the worry that you might not be … adequate enough to find a suitable gentleman.”

  Christina closed her eyes tightly, the familiar pain slicing through her before she could brush it away. Her father had, once again, gotten to the crux of the matter in his usual blunt way. He did not think her pretty enough to secure a gentleman. He had told her so often that she was much too bookish, that gentlemen did not wish for a bluestocking, but she had been unable to stop herself from learning all she could. Books opened up a world to her far beyond her home here. She read all she could, for whether it be through novels or learning about the past, she found solace in reading.

  “You shall have new gowns and the like, of course, for a trousseau will be important,” her father continued, waving his arms, gesticulating wildly now as he went on. “It is a wonderful match, my dear, much better than you could ever have secured for yourself. Why, the opportunity presented itself to me, and I seized the moment!”

  He would never change, Christina thought with a sigh.

  “A duke’s son!” her father exclaimed, delivering his last piece of news with a broad smile and bright expression, as though she ought to be almost overwhelmed at what he had managed to achieve for her. He pushed away from the mantle, coming over to her and taking her by the shoulders. “My dear friend, the Duke of Ware, has a son of marriageable age, and it has all been arranged. You will do very well, Christina.”

  A ripple of anger began to make its way through Christina’s frame, her eyes misting with sharp fury. He had no idea what he had actually done, believing himself to have done a wonderful thing for her while robbing her of the dreams she’d harbored for so long.

  “You will be a duchess one day!” the marquess exclaimed delightedly, letting her go and striding around the room, before turning back to look at her with a finger in the air and adding hurriedly, “Provided the son agrees, of course, which I’m certain he will.”

  “Agree?” Christina repeated, faintly, her anger now being replaced with confusion and a bit of suspicion. “What can you mean, Father? He doesn’t know?”

  He shrugged, as though it was not all that important, waving a hand. “The duke has yet to convince his son, that is all, but I am sure the marquess will do just as he is expected.”

  “But you cannot guarantee it,” Christina replied, tears of frustration now forming in her eyes. “Father, how could you do this? If it becomes known that I have been turned down, then I will be shamed and no gentleman will want to come near me. What were you thinking?”

  Her father held up his hand, stemming her torrent of words. “Christina, please. I have been careful to make all the arrangements properly. No one yet knows of this arrangement other than the duke and likely his family by now. Once you have met and courted, the banns will be posted and all will be well.”

  “But only if he agrees,” Christina stated, seeing her father’s answering nod. “And, given how poorly you think of me in terms of my beauty and my activities, what makes you think that he will do so?”

  To her surprise, her father chuckled as though she had made some kind of joke. “Because, my dear, he is a recluse! He has
not been in society for many years and has only been encouraged back due to his father’s insistence. I am sure he will not mind what kind of bride he marries, so long as she is entirely suitable to be his wife — and you, my dear, have all of the necessary qualifications. You have manners and tact, and are very presentable.”

  Her breathing became ragged, her fingers lacing together so tightly that they hurt. She couldn’t look at her father, her gaze resting on the intricate pattern of the green, gold, and cream Aubusson carpet at her feet as she tried to take it all in.

  “The duke will convince him, I am sure of it,” her father continued, nonchalantly. “Do not worry, my dear, all will be well. Ah, my daughter, a duchess!” He shook his head as though hardly able to believe it, beaming at her.

  “When do we leave?” she asked, suddenly desperate for him to leave her alone so that she might consider her sudden change in circumstances. “Is it soon?”

  “In two days’ time,” he replied, making his way toward the door. “And we have our first engagement in five days from now — a ball, at Lord Fauconberg’s home. An old friend of mine, you see, who will be delighted to welcome you.” He made his way toward the door, his smile never fading. “And you shall meet your betrothed there, that very night! I shall ensure that you have all you need to make an excellent first impression, my dear. He shall have no need to turn away from you.”

  Christina knew that she ought to thank her father for what he had done, was expected to thank him, but her mouth refused to form the words. She tried to nod, to smile, but her face was frozen in a state of astonishment.

  “Yes, well…. I can see that this has come as a bit of a surprise,” the marquess finished, clearing his throat as he opened the door. “I shall see you again at dinner this evening, Christina, and we can talk some more then, should you have any questions.”

  Christina nodded, looking down at her knuckles, now white from the tight grip of her hands clasped together as she looked away from him, her stomach swirling with sudden nausea. She did not say another word, waiting desperately for the sound of the door closing behind her father.

  The gentle click of the handle told her that she was blessedly alone. Rising from her chair, she strode to the window and looked out at the scene before her, drinking it in as though it would revive her. If all went to her father’s plan, she would not be calling this place home any longer. Her removal to London was not to be the exciting few months she had dreamed of but was instead suddenly filled with an unknown dread, for it meant an introduction to a man who had been chosen for her. Being a duchess meant nothing, for she had never had any wish to increase her status within society. All she had wanted was the chance to have a Season of her own, an opportunity to meet and consider gentlemen herself, to find a man who would share her interests, her joys, her penchant for life.

  But it was not to be so.

  Within a few minutes, she had learned that her life here was over. Whether she wanted to or not, it was her time to leave, time to move on with her life — except that her destination was not one of her own choosing. Her father had done the same for her as he had done with her brother — ordered and organized her life for her. Her brother had married, though from what she had seen, he was not altogether happy, choosing to spend most of his days separated from his wife.

  She did not want the same for herself, and all because her father believed that she would not be able to attract a gentleman on her own. That tore at her heart, the thought of how her father saw her. Not good enough, not attractive enough, not respectable enough as a bluestocking, but — as he had said — her only redeeming qualities being that she was polite and presentable. Tears began to pour from her eyes, her anger and frustration ripping her in two. She had only wanted the chance to choose for herself, even one Season to determine if there was a match for her. Alas, her life was not her own. The control of it would pass from her father to her husband, and that was how it would be, despite what she wanted.

  She had never felt so helpless, had never felt so alone — and there was nothing she could do to change it.

  3

  Daniel shuddered as he stepped into his new home, trying not to recall what he had seen the last time he had stepped across the threshold of his previous London home. After ridding himself of his former townhouse, whenever he had been required to return to the city, he had always stayed at an inn or with Lord Hudson. It was not as though he hadn’t the funds to keep it, but had considered it to be a useless investment, for he had no intention of spending any prolonged length of time in London.

  “Thank you,” he murmured, glad that he had been able to take his butler with him to London as he handed the man his hat and coat. Woodward, who had arrived a couple of days prior to Daniel to arrange everything for his stay, was near his father’s age, but Daniel had always felt comfortable around him, even before the incident. “Are you sure they will be able to spare you back in Ravenhall Manor?”

  The butler smiled, his eyes alight with a sudden spark of mirth. “I’d say so, my lord. That young footman will do very well in my place. In a year or so, I’m sure he’ll be looking for a place of his own in another household. A proper butler needs a proper domain, and he will be past the realms of a mere footman by then.”

  Daniel shot him a rueful smile. “Well, I do rather monopolize your time, do I not? I suppose it is rather a good thing that I have another man able to step into your shoes at short notice.”

  Woodward nodded, and Daniel was reminded of just how much he had come to depend on Woodward over the last few years. The man had not left his employ, not even after the horror that had been Laura’s death, and he seemed to know precisely what Daniel needed. He was the only member of staff who was aware of Daniel’s ongoing nightmares and ensured that he was very well looked after when an episode left him weak.

  “Should you like to change for this evening’s dinner, my lord?” the butler asked, changing the conversation topic quickly.

  Daniel’s lip curled. “Ah, yes. Dinner with my parents? Across the street … how fortunate.” He knew that sarcasm dripped from his words but did not hide it from his butler, who knew how much Daniel despised being ordered about.

  “Indeed it is,” Woodward calmly replied. “Shall I have the valet lay out your things?”

  “I suppose you must.”

  The butler paused for a moment. “And Lord Hudson is waiting for you, my lord.”

  Daniel spun around at once. “Hudson? Here?” He knew Hudson had returned to London before Daniel himself had, but he had not expected to see him so quickly. A faint note of worry stirred, and Daniel hoped that nothing had gone awry.

  “In the drawing room, my lord, although he told me to allow you to get settled before informing you that he was here.”

  “And I am very glad you ignored that missive,” Daniel replied, taking a step forward. “Thank you, Woodward.”

  “You can find the room down this hall, through the first door on your right.”

  Daniel nodded and made his way down the corridor, which was lined with watercolors and a portrait of his grandfather. So his mother had been here. It was certainly not styled in Daniel’s taste, but he had no plans to rectify the situation, as he did not intend on staying here long — only until he could convince his father the folly of his actions.

  Turning into the drawing room, Daniel’s lip curled as he took in the feminine decor of the room, the floral arrangements and the colorful seating around an elegant sofa table. He couldn’t help but grin, however, at the sight of his friend looking altogether uncomfortable seated in one of the overstuffed chairs, brandy in hand.

  “I see you’ve already helped yourself,” Daniel chuckled, as he sat down opposite. “Just like you, Hudson.”

  “I think I deserve it,” Lord Hudson muttered, not looking in any way pleased. “After what I’ve been through, I need more than one of these.”

  The smile left Daniel’s face at once. “What happened?”

  “Look,
Ravenhall, I know what you — what we are trying to do is for the betterment of others, to seek justice for those who cannot find it for themselves, but my God, sometimes you wonder, is what we do making any difference at all?”

  Daniel sighed, running a hand through his hair.

  “I know it may seem that way, Hudson,” he said. “But the way I see it, if I can help another poor soul find the justice I seek for myself, or even prevent it, then yes, for one person what seems like a small action can make a big difference.”

  “You know this will never satisfy your own loss,” Hudson said quietly, and Daniel threw him what he hoped was a scathing look, but Hudson continued, as the only person other than Woodward who knew what Daniel had gone through, what he still saw many nights. “I understand your motives, Ravenhall, and I support what you are doing more than any other. But that doesn’t mean I condone all of your methods.”

  Daniel remained silent, choosing not to answer his friend. Over the last year, he had put together a small group of men who reached out to others on his behalf, using his funds and his support. Daniel did not always get involved but allowed Lord Hudson to take most of the control. It meant that he was able to stay at Ravenhall Manor and take care of his own tenants and land, knowing that there was good being done in his name. Of course, at times he came down to London to involve himself in whatever was going on, when it was required to take things further than his men were willing to go. The less time he spent in London, however, the less he battled his demons.

  Thankfully, Lord Hudson had been more than willing to get involved. He was a viscount who had very little else to do, other than marry and create heirs, which he was not particularly inclined to do as yet. He’d always said he had a very charming, very practical younger brother who had already produced children of his own, so that there was nothing particularly urgent about his own matrimonial state. It seemed that, aside from their love of port and good books, both Daniel and Lord Hudson shared a sense of injustice for those of lesser means who needed help and protection. Hudson was involved practically, while Daniel, for the most part, took on the monetary issues. All in all, it was a beautiful partnership.