His Majesty’s Hounds – Book 11
Sweet and Clean Regency Romance
Loving the Bitter Baron
Arietta Richmond
Dreamstone Publishing © 2017
www.dreamstonepublishing.com
Copyright © 2017 Dreamstone Publishing and Arietta Richmond
All rights reserved.
No parts of this work may be copied without the author’s permission.
ISBN-13: 978-1-925499-84-1
Disclaimer
This story is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, locales or actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Some actual historical events and locations of the period may be referenced in passing.
Books by Arietta Richmond
His Majesty’s Hounds
Claiming the Heart of a Duke
Intriguing the Viscount
Giving a Heart of Lace
Being Lady Harriet’s Hero
Enchanting the Duke
Redeeming the Marquess
Finding the Duke’s Heir
Winning the Merchant Earl
Healing Lord Barton
Kissing the Duke of Hearts
Loving the Bitter Baron
Rescuing the Countess (coming soon)
Attracting the Spymaster (coming soon)
Restoring the Earl’s Honour (coming soon)
A Duke’s Daughters – The Elbury Bouquet
A Spinster for a Spy (Lily) (coming soon)
A Vixen for a Viscount (Hyacinth) (coming soon)
A Bluestocking for a Baron (Rose) (coming soon)
A Diamond for a Duke (Camellia) (coming soon)
A Minx for a Merchant (Primrose) (coming soon)
An Enchantress for an Earl (Violet) (coming soon)
A Maiden for a Marquess (Iris) (coming soon)
A Heart for an Heir (Thorne) (coming soon)
The Derbyshire Set
A Gift of Love (Prequel short story)
A Devil’s Bargain (Prequel short story - coming soon)
The Earl’s Unexpected Bride
The Captain’s Compromised Heiress
The Viscount’s Unsuitable Affair
The Derbyshire Set, Omnibus Edition, Volume 1
(contains the first three books in a single volume.)
The Count’s Impetuous Seduction
The Rake’s Unlikely Redemption
The Marquess’ Scandalous Mistress
The Derbyshire Set, Omnibus Edition, Volume 2
(contains the second three books in a single volume.)
A Remembered Face (Bonus short story – coming soon)
The Marchioness’ Second Chance (coming soon)
A Viscount’s Reluctant Passion (coming soon)
Lady Theodora’s Christmas Wish
The Duke’s Improper Love (coming soon)
Other Books
The Scottish Governess (coming soon)
The Earl’s Reluctant Fiancée (coming soon)
The Crew of the Seadragon’s Soul Series,
(coming soon - a set of 10 linked novels)
Dedication
For everyone who had the grace to be patient while this book, and every other book that I have written, was coming into existence, who provided cups of tea, and food, when the writing would not let me go, and endured countless times being asked for opinions.
For the readers who inspire me to continue writing, by buying my books! Especially for those of you who have taken the time to email me, or to leave reviews, and tell me what you love about these books, and what you’d like to see more of – thank you – I’m listening, I promise to write more about your favourite characters.
For my growing team of beta readers and advance reviewers – it’s thanks to you that others can enjoy these books in the best presentation possible!
And for all the writers of Regency Historical Romance, whose books I read, who inspired me to write in this fascinating period.
Table of Contents
Loving the Bitter Baron
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
About the Author
Here is your preview of Rescuing the Countess
Chapter One
Books in the ‘His Majesty’s Hounds’ Series
Books in ‘The Derbyshire Set’
Regency Collections with Other Authors
Other Books from Dreamstone Publishing
Chapter One
“… and then there is Saltwitch Park – the finest of my estates. It boasts the largest house in the county, and by far the best land.”
“How fortunate you are, Lord Saltwitch.”
“I was sure that you would be impressed, Lady Alyse.”
Alyse resisted, with grim determination, the desire to kick the man in the shins, ‘accidentally’ as she followed the intricate steps of the dance. He was a boor - an arrogant, self-important boor, who thought that wealth and property was enough to interest any woman. Much as she loved dancing, loved beautiful dresses and the glittering gatherings of the ton, she was beginning to think that her sister had the right of it. There were, as Sybilla had pointed out, rather acidly, almost no gentlemen of actual intelligence to be had.
The thought of intelligent men brought one in particular to mind, a friend of her brother. A man who made a point of avoiding most of these gatherings, to her ongoing frustration.
The music ended, and Alyse escaped, with the best grace possible, back to her mother. Louisa Barrington, the Dowager Duchess of Melton, frowned at her daughter’s expression. Alyse replaced her half scowl with a bright smile, and her mother’s face settled back to its normal cheerfulness. Her mother was focussing all of her attention on Alyse, and her opportunities to attract a suitable husband.
Which was Sybilla’s fault. How Sybilla had convinced mother to allow her to go back to Greyscar Keep, again, rather than come to town for the season, Alyse really did not know. But she had, which left mother with no-one but Alyse. Charles was off again, somewhere, dealing with the Estates, Hunter was happily married, and Sybilla was still ‘finishing writing her novel’. Which, Alyse suspected, would never be finished, whilst it provided her an excuse to avoid London.
The Dowager Duchess scooped a glass of orgeat from a passing footman, and presented it to Alyse.
“Refresh yourself, Alyse, for soon you will be dancing again. It is most gratifying to see how many of these gentlemen are taken with you. Have any of them caught your fancy yet?”
“No Mother, none of them. I am finding them all rather… uninspiring – of conversation, manner, and attitude.”
“You, my girl, are far too picky. You will find yourself left alone, if you continue this way. Like your sister, who I despair of. At least you are here, meeting eligible men.”
“Yes mother. I promise, I will consider them all. But some have most definitely fai
led to meet even the least of my criteria for acceptability.”
The Dowager Duchess grimaced at her words, shaking her head, turning to watch the swirl of people, and the new arrivals as they came into the ballroom. Alyse sipped her orgeat, and watched them as well.
The churn of people parted, for a moment, and a man slipped through the gap to enter the room, moving down the stairs with an even stride, looking, somehow, at once both supremely confident, and utterly uncomfortable with where he was. He was, at first glance, an unassuming gentleman – well dressed, in a quiet way, handsome, with strong cheekbones and distinctive deep blue eyes, and thick dark blonde hair which was, as it had been every time she had met him, already curling a little in escape from the structured styling that his valet had attempted to impress upon it.
Alyse remembered to breathe again, as the crowds swallowed him up. Suddenly, the evening had become far more interesting.
~~~~~
Gerald Otford, Baron Tillingford, had now been the bearer of that title for a year and a half. It still sat heavily upon him, an awkward thing that he had not been raised to deal with. It was not that he did not appreciate the social advantages of a title, or the wealth that came with the lands and estates attached to the title – it was simply that he always felt out of place.
He could not reconcile, inside himself, the things that he had done during the war, of necessity, with the person he needed to be, now, day to day.
These people looked at him, and saw a quiet man, who cared well for his tenants, and did not push himself forward excessively. He looked at himself and saw a monster. For he alone knew what he had done, what he was capable of. Of his close group of friends, those men with whom he had served in France and Spain, only he, Raphael and Bart remained unwed. Raphael had just announced that he and Lady Serafine would wed within the month, and, from the way he had seen Bart and Lady Sybilla looking at each other, at Geoffrey and Harriet’s wedding, he suspected that soon, Bart would be wed too.
The thought was bitter. None of the others had done the things he had done. He had, by doing those things, saved them from needing to, and he knew that they were, to the depths of their being, grateful for that fact. But those actions, necessary as they had been, had changed him. He could not, ever, expect a woman to know of those things, and not recoil in horror. He never intended that any woman would hear even a whisper of those things. But it meant that he would, almost certainly, remain alone. He had been, before the war, a naturally sociable man, with an easy manner, a man that the girls in the village had found appealing, in all his lanky awkwardness. Now, it seemed, women still found him appealing, but he could not permit them to be close to him. It would have been easier to be ugly.
Yet now he held a title – one with an 800-year history of honourable service. And its preservation meant that, at some point, he should marry, and have an heir. He felt trapped by the contradiction. Socially, he was, therefore, awkward. He attended few events, even though, with a year’s practice, he had become used to swimming in the pit of vipers that was the ton.
For, once they had recovered from his change from landed gentry to titled, he had become prey to the husband hunters.
He had come to this particular Ball, only because he wished to speak with Hunter Barrington, the Duke of Melton, who was one of his companions at war. He had reached the point, with his restoration of Tillingford Castle, where he needed assistance – with the rebuilding of the gardens, and with the next steps in modernising the farming operations. Nerissa, the Duchess of Melton, was a talented garden designer, and Charles Barrington, Viscount Wareham, Hunter’s brother, was a talented estate manager with significant experience in farming methods improvement. Gerald hoped to access both of them to help.
As he stepped through the doors, he immediately wished that he had chosen any other way to speak to them. The swirl of perfumed bodies was claustrophobic, and the assessing eyes of the young women made him feel like a stallion on the sales floor at Tattersall’s. Finally, he managed to make his way across the room, to where Hunter stood with his family. Including his sister, Lady Alyse.
Gerry found his eyes drawn to her, as they always were. She was slim, but not thin, and beautiful – a classic beauty of pale gold hair, porcelain skin and lips that were often as bright as cherries, for she habitually pulled them between her own teeth, before releasing them, when she was thinking. She was different from most of the young women of the ton, for she could converse as well on such subjects as horses and estates as she could on dresses and female fripperies.
He did not want to like her as much as he did.
“Good Evening, Your Grace, Your Grace, and Your Grace, and Lady Alyse.”
He bowed over Lady Alyse’s hand, and rose from it to find her eyes on him, amused.
“Now Gerry, do stop the formality. You know how silly that sounded!”
Hunter was always annoyed by the formalities. He had never expected to inherit the title, and had been, as a result, rather unprepared for it. He had done well, regardless.
“If you insist, Hunter.”
“But what brings you here tonight, Gerry? I know that you are not overly fond of Balls.”
“You are what brings me here. Well, actually, that is not quite correct, it is your family that are the cause of my presence.”
Hunter raised an eyebrow at the remark.
“Oh, in what way?”
“I have need of assistance. With garden design,” Gerry watched as Nerissa’s eyes lit with delight, “And with implementing some modern farming approaches, at Tillingford Castle. It seemed sensible to come to the talented Barrington family.”
“I would be delighted to help. A new project is just what I need.”
Nerissa’s enthusiasm was genuine, and unfeigned.
“Charles isn’t here tonight, but I’ll ask him. I am sure that he can spare some time to visit you, and see what can be done.”
“Thank you.”
His mission accomplished, Gerry felt a sudden desire to flee the ballroom. But there was no socially acceptable way to do so. Hunter was watching him, a knowing look in his eye, a half-amused smile on his lips. Obviously, there was no help to be had there. He glanced around, and his eyes met those of Lady Alyse. Unusually for a person with pale hair, her eyes were brown. A deep, warm brown with glints of gold in them. With a start, he realised that he was staring, rudely. He tore his eyes away.
“My dear Tillingford, so good to see you again. You will, of course, not leave us this evening without dancing with my daughter, will you?”
The Dowager Duchess’ voice was light, pleasant and charming. It was also a command. Gerry knew when he was trapped. Hunter, again, made no move to rescue him. The orchestra were just striking up again, and Gerry, acknowledging that the Dowager had manoeuvred perfectly, pasted on his social smile, and offered his arm to Lady Alyse.
“Of course, I would be delighted, if it so please Lady Alyse?”
Alyse looked, for a moment, as if she would refuse, which he found, to his surprise, raised a pang of disappointment, almost hurt, in him. Then she smiled, that beautiful smile which transformed her face from simply pretty to spectacular, and took his proffered arm.
“It does please me, my Lord.”
He led her to the floor, only realising as they reached it, that the music was a waltz. He took her into his arms, and they began to move, effortlessly finding their balance with each other. Which was fortunate, for his ability to think had departed.
She smelled divine, some soft floral fragrance, perhaps lily of the valley, he thought, a scent that suited her appearance perfectly. A scent that was, it seemed, intoxicating. His heart beat harder, his mouth was dry, and he sought, with no success, for something to say. She met his eyes, and any remaining trace of thought faded away.
“Thank you, Lord Tillingford.”
He managed, a little confused, to respond.
“For…?”
“For rescuing me. From… them… the thought of
a waltz with any of the hopeful men who surround me at these events is currently unappealing in the extreme. I believe that I have, in every case, already exhausted their stores of conversational topics, and discovered the extent, or lack thereof, of their dancing skills.”
“Oh. Lady Alyse, are you implying, thereby, that I am both more interesting to speak to, and more talented on my feet, than every man here? I find that, forgive me, a little improbable.”
She flushed, a delightfully pretty pink glow highlighting her cheeks, but she nodded.
“Yes, I believe you have the right of it. That is exactly my opinion.”
He was dumbfounded. He was, currently, at his least eloquent. At least he could be sure that he danced well – something his mother had forced him to learn, all those years ago. But… he suspected he only danced so well at this moment, because of how well she danced.
“I am deeply flattered. Does this sad state of affairs mean that you are not enjoying the Season, Lady Alyse?”
Those deep brown eyes lifted to hold his, and he felt lost in them, the other dancers around them fading away, until he guided her around the floor by instinct.
She pulled one lip between her teeth a moment, and heat rushed through his body.
“I have been enjoying myself. But, now that it has been some weeks, I find that simply the pretty dresses, and the glitter of everything is not enough. The attention of so many men is flattering. But only until one becomes aware of their motivations.”
She sighed, falling silent as they swept around the dance floor, turning, almost floating, so in tune were they. He considered her words, and found himself sympathetic. For, as much as he was prey to the husband hunters, so was she prey to the fortune seekers, or those who simply wished an association with the family of a Duke.
“Then, if I may be so impertinent as to ask, why are you still in town, attending these events?”
She laughed, and it seemed a little shaky to his ear.
“My mother. And, I suppose, my own hopes, to some extent. Although I am becoming convinced that mother will be disappointed, and that I will, most likely, return to Meltonbrook Chase unbetrothed, and unmarried.”
Loving the Bitter Baron: Sweet and Clean Regency Romance (His Majesty's Hounds Book 11) Page 1
