The Long Return: A Regency Romance: The Returned Lords of Grosvenor Square (Book 2)

by Rose Pearson

  “Of course.” Arabella smiled at Lord Halesworthy, who looked something between anger and relief, and watched him as he walked away. The Duke then also took his leave, reminding Jacob, before he walked away, that he would need to soon make a speech to the assembled guests.

  “How I shall make a speech at this present moment, I cannot quite say,” Jacob murmured, looking down at Arabella with a wry smile. “My heart has quite worn itself out with all that I have endured.” He touched her cheek gently, his eyes soft. “I was greatly worried for you, my love.”

  “Your father and Lord Halesworthy were just in the adjoining room,” she reminded him. “They heard everything. You had no need to fear.”

  “And yet I could not help myself,” he replied, reaching up with both hands to capture her face. “You have become more dear to me than ever, Arabella. I do not wish to be separated from you for a single moment.”

  She smiled up at him, her arms going around his neck as he dropped his hands to her waist to pull her close. “It is only three weeks until our wedding day,” she reminded him, feeling the same longing as she saw etched on his face. “And then we shall never have to live a day apart. I shall be by your side morning, afternoon and night.” A blush caught her cheeks but she did not drop her eyes from his gaze, finding the depth of love in her heart to be almost overwhelming with its intensity. “Nothing will ever separate us again, my love. We shall be two hearts joined to one another in love and devotion. The day I make my vows to you, before God, shall be the most joyous day of my life.”

  “As it will be mine,” Jacob murmured, before capturing her lips in a long and tender kiss.

  Epilogue

  “My love.”

  Jacob looked up from his accounting to see none other than Arabella standing framed in the doorway. He had not heard her come into the room.

  “My dear Arabella,” he replied, his heart lifting with happiness as he rose to greet her. “May I say, my dear lady, that you look radiant this morning.”

  She tipped her head, her eyes sparkling. “I should think so,” she replied, with a gentle laugh. “For I am now a well situated, contented lady whose husband is unlike any other.”

  Jacob smiled down at her, thinking that the last six months had been some of the happiest he had ever known. “Indeed,” he replied, bending his head to kiss her gently. “May I remind you, my dear, that I love you with all of my heart?”

  “You may,” she murmured, kissing him back. “For I shall remind you also that my heart is filled with love only for you.”

  Jacob kissed her, hard, his arms going around her waist as he held her tightly. This had been their daily ritual, and he was all the happier for it. How different life was when Arabella was with him! They had enjoyed a wonderful four months of travel for their wedding trip, and now had returned to his estate, where they had set up their life together. It was, all in all, just as wonderful as he had anticipated.

  “You have a letter,” Arabella said, when he finally let her go. “I took it from the butler to give to you. You know how I do not like to be interrupted when I greet you.” Her teasing smile made him laugh as she pulled the letter from her pocket, his hand still holding hers as he accepted it from her.

  “I do not quite recognise the seal,” he murmured, turning it over. “Oh, wait a moment. I do believe this is from Lord Halesworthy!”

  “Lord Halesworthy?” Arabella repeated, sounding a little surprised. “I do hope nothing is wrong.”

  Jacob made his way towards his study desk, sitting down in his chair and waiting until Arabella had perched herself on the desk in front of him. Breaking open the seal, he unfolded the letter and read it quickly.

  He could almost feel Arabella’s impatience.

  “Everything is quite all right,” he said, quickly, reading the first few lines. “Lord Halesworthy has news of his sister.”

  “Oh?”

  “She is to be married.”

  Arabella clapped her hands, her face suddenly wreathed in smiles. “Oh, how wonderful! To whom?”

  Jacob grinned. “To one Lord Hartson. I do not think I am acquainted with him, but Lord Halesworthy seems to be quite contented with the fellow.”

  Arabella gasped, her eyes dancing. “I do believe I was introduced to Lord Hartson, Jacob. My mother thought he might be a decent match for me at one point.” Her eyes softened. “That was when I thought you were gone from me forever.”

  Jacob smiled and took her hand. “How glad I am that you found Lord Hartson to be so uninteresting,” he replied, with a gentle smile. “And that I was able to return to you. We have known happiness, have we not, Arabella?”

  “We have indeed,” she agreed.

  He held her gaze for a moment or two longer, before returning to the letter. “Oh, now,” he said, a little surprised. “Listen to this. Lord Halesworthy has news of Lord Winchester.”

  “Oh?” Arabella’s smile faded and she immediately grew tense. He could feel her fingers tightening in his hand.

  “He has gone to the continent, it seems,” Jacob murmured. “The last time he was seen was boarding a ship. I do not think he will return soon, for Lord Halesworthy states that all of London has rejected him entirely.”

  “As they should.” Arabella’s fingers were loosening on his now, her relief evident. “I am glad that he has left society. I fear for the young lady that he next pursues.”

  “He may choose to remain abroad,” Jacob replied, with a shrug. “He has two younger brothers who could take on the title and produce the required heir. Perhaps it would be best for everyone if he never marries, and never returns.” Recalling how Lord Winchester had looked, the last time they had spoken, Jacob felt that same, familiar sense of unease. Had Lord Winchester truly been in his right mind? Or had his anger, his sense of shame over Arabella’s crying off, turned his character towards the darkness and cruelty that had pervaded everything he did and said? “Regardless, I do not think that we shall ever hear from him again.”

  Arabella nodded, no smile on her face. “I am relieved, I confess.” A slight shudder overtook her. “It has not been easy to forget what occurred.”

  “But we must.” Setting the letter aside, Jacob rose to his feet and took Arabella in his arms again, seeing her smile up at him almost at once, the concern being wiped from her expression in a moment. “For we have many things to consider, now that we are wed.”

  “And, pray tell, what may they be?” she asked, laughing up at him.

  “Well,” he began, unable to lift his eyes from hers. “I think that we must decide how to spend our days. I have responsibilities here, of course, but there is time for riding, time for walks in the gardens, time for reading together. Time to be with one another in whatever pursuit you wish.” He saw the faint blush in her cheeks and could not help but grin. “In addition, I think we must consider just how many children we wish to fill this house with.”

  Arabella’s smile trembled for a moment, her eyes flickering with something he could not quite make out. Fear clutched at his heart. Had he said something to upset her?

  “Arabella,” he murmured, slowly. “Whatever is the matter?”

  Arabella closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck, letting out a shuddering breath. Jacob could do nothing but hold her, suddenly afraid of what she had to say.

  “Jacob,” she breathed, opening her eyes, and looking up at him. “How soon should you like children to run about this house?”

  “How soon?” he repeated, entirely confused. “I had not thought of a…” Trailing off, Jacob frowned hard, seeing Arabella’s smile, the dampness in her eyes and slowly, the realisation of what she was trying to say hit him, hard. He sagged for a moment, his leg paining him as he leaned heavily on one side to try to regain his balance.

  “It is true,” Arabella whispered, tears dripping onto her cheeks as she smiled up into his face. “I had the doctor here this morning when you were out for your ride.” Her fingers twined into his hair. “In seven
months or so, we shall have our first child together.”

  Jacob closed his eyes, his throat aching with the sheer joy of it. “Oh, Arabella,” he whispered, drawing her close to him. “You have brought me so much happiness. I can hardly believe you are with child.” Looking down at her, he wiped away her tears with his thumbs, gently framing her face. “I am to be a father.”

  “And you shall be the very best of fathers,” Arabella whispered, her trust and confidence in him evident with every word she spoke. “For you will love our child with the fierce love that you have for me. You will be everything to our child, in the way that you have become everything to me.”

  Jacob closed his eyes and kissed her, feeling himself tremble inside. Memories of when he had first professed his love to her filled his mind, and he recalled just how broken he had been. Back then, he would never have believed that such joy could now be his.

  How wonderful Arabella was. How joyous their life together was going to be. This was more happiness than he had ever expected.

  “I love you, Arabella,” he whispered, his mouth close to hers. “And I already love our child.”

  She smiled up at him, her eyes glistening with joyful tears. “I have always loved you, Jacob St. Leger,” she replied. “And I always shall.”

  My Dear Reader

  Thank you for reading and supporting my books! I hope this story brought you some escape from the real world into the always captivating Regency world. A good story, especially one with a happy ending, just brightens your day and makes you feel good! If you enjoyed the book, would you leave a review on Amazon? Reviews are always appreciated.

  Below is a complete list of all my books! Why not click and see if one of them can keep you entertained for a few hours?

  The Duke’s Daughters Series

  The Duke’s Daughters: A Sweet Regency Romance Boxset

  A Rogue for a Lady

  My Restless Earl

  Rescued by an Earl

  In the Arms of an Earl

  The Reluctant Marquess (Prequel)

  A Smithfield Market Regency Romance

  The Smithfield Market Romances: A Sweet Regency Romance Boxset

  The Rogue’s Flower

  Saved by the Scoundrel

  Mending the Duke

  The Baron’s Malady

  The Returned Lords of Grosvenor Square

  The Waiting Bride

  Love and Christmas Wishes: Three Regency Romance Novellas

  Please go to the next page for a sneak peek of The Waiting Bride!

  Happy Reading!

  All my love,

  Rose

  A Sneak Peak of The Waiting Bride

  Chapter One

  “It be cold today, my lord.”

  Philip Belmont, Viscount Galsworthy, shivered slightly as though the Captain’s words had only just brought to mind how truly cold the air was.

  “Indeed,” he murmured, glancing at the Captain and taking in the way that the man was staring out at the ocean with a knowing look in his eyes. He did not know much about the ocean but was glad to be sailing with a knowledgeable Captain. “The air has a breath of frost in it.”

  The Captain chuckled. “It will be autumn by the time we dock on England’s fair shores, my lord.”

  “I find that I am already looking forward to it,” Philip replied with feeling. “The heat of India was never something I truly enjoyed, to be frank.”

  The Captain looked surprised. “I have never heard a man say before, in all of my life, that he prefers a cold wind to a warm breeze, my lord. Unless there is something else that will be warming your bones once you return?” He threw a knowing look in Philip’s direction, but Philip shook his head sharply.

  “No, indeed not,” he muttered, refusing to let his thoughts turn in that direction for fear of what would occur within him if he did so. “The freshness of the air and the coolness of the breeze brings me a good deal of joy, for it reminds me of home.”

  After a moment, the Captain nodded slowly, his gaze returning to the expanse of the sea. “You have been away from home for some time?”

  “Nearly two years,” Philip replied, recalling how glad he had been to leave England’s shores at the time. “I have been inspecting the holdings in India, but I have no other recourse than to return at this time.”

  “You are a little reluctant, I think,” the Captain murmured, not so much as glancing at him.

  Philip exhaled slowly. “Indeed,” he muttered, not wanting to give very much away. “But return I shall, regardless of consequence.”

  At this, the Captain left him to stand on deck alone, battling with his thoughts. It had been more than a year since he had last seen Miss Weston, since he had last pressed her hand and promised that he would return so that they might plan their wedding. He had not felt any desire other than to leave her side, quite sure that their betrothal was not something either of them particularly wanted – even though they had been engaged for some years. Of course, it had been simply a matter of family obligation. His father and hers had wanted to join their family lines together and, as such, he had not been allowed any input on the matter. Neither had she, for that matter, not that she had ever complained to him about it, of course. Not a single word of complaint had ever left her lips, although there had always been an uncertainty in her eyes whenever she had looked at him. The way she so often toyed with a tress of her fair curls had only added to the picture of hesitation that she portrayed. He could see it now, reflected in his mind, that doubt which continued to bite at him, continued to trouble his mind, no matter how often he tried to battle it.

  Why had he never spoken to her of it? Was he so afraid of his own late father’s dictates, of his own responsibilities, that he had never had the courage to ask her how she truly felt? Perhaps then he might not have felt compelled to run away to India in an attempt to remove himself from the situation.

  Of course, the idea had been foolishness itself. To remove to India meant that their wedding plans were only postponed, not forgotten altogether. Besides which, having now come into the title of Viscount Galsworthy meant that he had specific responsibilities at home, which he had entirely neglected whilst in India. Perhaps the idea of leaving England for a time had been to give him time to reflect, time to make himself quite certain of all that he wanted, all he desired. Instead, he was returning to England with as much uncertainty as he had left with, almost dreading seeing his bride-to-be for fear of what he would see in her face.

  “Maybe she has found another and will have eloped by the time I return,” he muttered to himself, his mind crowding with dark thoughts. It was not as though Miss Marianne Weston, daughter of Viscount Bridgestone, was not every inch a lady. She was refined, elegant and polite in every way. On top of which, with her bright blue eyes, flawless complexion, and fair hair, she was a remarkably pretty thing, who he would be proud to have on his arm, had he any feeling for her whatsoever.

  Groaning, Philip dropped his head. Therein lay the problem. He was quite lost as to what to do, for he did not feel anything at all for the lady. It was not as though he had ever entertained dreams of love, fondness, and overwhelming affection for his wife, having been quite certain that his marriage would never hold such a thing, but he had hoped to feel some kind of connection with the lady. Indeed, whilst he found Miss Weston to be charming and beautiful, the fear of being pressed into a marriage he neither wanted, nor had hoped for, had chased him from her side. There was nothing but fear and doubt between the two of them. Even in the letters which she had written to him, he found nothing and felt nothing. There was no spark to bring a flood of excitement to his heart, no delight to cast him into thoughts of what would be waiting for him when he should return.

  Sighing aloud, Philip leaned heavily on the deck, looking down at the waves and feeling the icy wind on his cheeks. Surely there had to be some kind of excitement, simply at the thought of becoming wed to Miss Weston? He closed his eyes and tried his best to feel something good,
something wonderful, even just the smallest flicker of delight… but all he felt was dread.

  Eventually, having given into the doldrums, Philip made his way down to his cabin, seeing his coat lying across his trunk. Setting it aside, he lifted the trunk lid and saw the stack of letters Miss Weston had written to him over the course of his time in India. He had read every one, of course, and had responded with news of what he was involved in and the like, but had never once mentioned any sort of longing for her company or how much he missed hearing her voice. Nor had she, for that matter, although each letter had ended with the same words: ‘Earnestly awaiting your return’.

  He unfolded the last one and read it again, wanting desperately to roll his eyes but choosing not to. He did not believe that she was truly missing him, nor that she was, in truth, waiting for his return with eager expectation. But he knew full well that those words were almost expected from a betrothed lady of society. Her father, the rather brusque Lord Bridgestone, would most likely read the correspondence before it was sent, simply to ensure that all was just as it ought to be. He would expect his daughter to make quite clear that she was looking forward to her betrothed’s return.

  “What am I to do?” he muttered aloud, raking one hand through his hair as he stared down unseeingly at the letter in his hand. The desire for adventure, the desire to escape, had long since passed, but yet his lack of feeling remained the same. What of her? What if her heart had changed in the time that they had been apart?

  “That would be a torture indeed,” he said loudly, feeling his heart twist in frustration. Placing the letter back with the others, he carefully retied the ribbon around them all, still a little unsure as to why he had not only saved the letters, but had chosen to return to England with them. There was no need for him to do so, not if he was to be in Miss Weston’s presence again. His finger traced the ribbon gently, a frown creasing his brow.