Holiday Bride: A Sweet Regency Romance (Brides of Somerset Book 5)

by Karen Lynne

  He gave Lillian a sidelong glance and cocked a brow. “Shall we pick up the pace?”

  She nodded and tapped her crop to the mare's flanks pushing ahead of him, flashing a full smile. Benjamin nudged his horse turning his head for a second to see if the young groom behind them was keeping pace. Assured he was, Benjamin increased his speed to gain on Lillian, keeping a horse's length behind her so he could admire her in private. She tossed her head looking over her shoulder laughing in her easy way not concerned with appearances, Lillian wasn’t afraid to show her skill. She rode with grace, her ebony locks flowing under her hat.

  Benjamin found it very satisfying to spend time with Lillian. He wondered if she would rather live in town or the country? She was like a young filly, restless, and full of energy. He had made up his mind, only Lillian would do as a partner by his side. He would need to rein her in slowly. Benjamin knew Lillian found him attractive and felt the same pull he did, if he hadn’t stopped himself, she would have let him kiss her yesterday, he was sure of it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Benjamin pulled ahead of her and raised his hand, indicating the crossroad ahead. Lillian eased back on the reins slowing the mare’s pace. She relaxed her leg muscles as the horse slowed to a walk, her breathing heavy from the exercise.

  “The manor is just down this lane.” Benjamin turned off the main road lined with hedgerows on both sides. “Mr. Jenkins is meeting us to give me a tour. This was to be the second son’s home, but he was killed in the war. The family has decided to sell. It comes with five acres; the rest of the land will stay with the family estate up the road a few miles.”

  “You will not farm the land then?” Lillian could see dots of sheep grazing in the fields to her right.

  “No, I don’t need to bother, besides, I don’t think I would make a good landowner, having been raised in the city.” He gave her a slow smile that melted her insides. He looked good even after a fast-paced gallop.

  She could feel her nose begin to run in the chilly air. It was cold. She grasped her nose with her gloved hand warming it up. Benjamin’s nose was pink as well.

  “Come, it's just ahead.” Benjamin picked up the pace. “Maybe there will be a fire to warm us.”

  The thoughts of a warm hearth spurred Lillian forward, and maybe a hot cup of tea.

  Lillian gawped at the manor, or was, is a castle? The home was built of smooth-hewn stone. Two turrets stood at the front end of each corner. A gentleman met them at the front as they dismounted by the entry. The young groom took the reins and waited.

  “Mr. Dalton?” The man stepped forward.

  “Yes, Mr. Jenkins?” Benjamin inquired.

  The man nodded. “Come inside where it is warmer.” He directed through the front entrance.

  The first thing Lillian saw was a gleaming marble floor in the front foyer with an impressive mahogany staircase leading up to a landing on either side of the room.

  “It is a castle?” Lillian gasped.

  “Mr. Jenkins, may I present my cousin, Miss Wilson.” Benjamin had taken Lillian’s arm and tucked it in his elbow. “My cousin has agreed to accompany me to give her a feminine perspective. It will be my family home you see, where I intend to bring my bride.” Benjamin managed to keep a straight face throughout his little white lie.

  About her being his cousin, that is.

  Did he really intend to settle down so soon with a wife? The thought niggled about in her brain.

  “Miss Wilson, the owner’s son, rest his soul, was very enamored with medieval history and so you see the two turrets on both sides. The house was only built ten years back. The main hall to the right, you see.” Mr. Jenkins led them into a great hall where large Persian carpets graced the floor and chunky wood furniture filled the space. A large stone fireplace, you could step into framed the room on the inside wall. A large window framed the outside wall letting light into the dark-paneled room.

  “You will see that the turret on this side of the home is but a reading nook.” Mr. Jenkins stepped aside so that Lillian could look inside.

  “Or a cozy place for a liaison.” Benjamin drew the curtains, enclosing them into the small room.

  Lillian snapped the drapes back open, stepping back into the larger room with Mr. Jenkins. “I should think it a great place to curl up with a gothic novel.” She smiled, demurely at Benjamin as he followed her.

  This is where the family might gather in the evenings. Mr. Jenkins led them across the foyer to the other side, where a sizable medieval dining table stretched the length of the room with gaudy chairs for seating a party of twenty at least. Again dark paneling covered the walls decorated with swords and shields. As much as Lillian enjoyed a good gothic novel, she wasn’t ready to live in a medieval castle.

  “You’ll see a door here at this turret disguised as the wall with the same paneling. His lordship enjoyed entering when all his guests were seated, listening to their conversation before making himself known.” Mr. Jenkins pushed a hidden leaver, opening a hidden panel. “These stairs lead to the master suites above.”

  Benjamin proceeded Lillian, and Mr. Jenkins followed closing the door behind him, dimming their view as only a few windows provided light. Oil lamps were fastened into the stone, but they had not been lit.

  Lillian gripped the rail tight. The previous owner must have had a morbid sense of humor, spying on his guests.

  The master suites were impressive. The master and mistress suites side by side a replica of each other except for the decor. One is masculine and the other feminine. Except for a small drawing-room, the master bedchambers were the only rooms on this side of the house. Lillian followed Mr. Jenkins from the bedchamber into a private hall where portraits of painted faces and scenes she didn’t know lined the walls. The hallway ended and opened onto the mezzanine, where the marble foyer glittered below. To the other side and down another private hall, it housed a nursery and five small rooms.

  Lillian’s favorite rooms were the breakfast parlor and the small library at the back of the house. The kitchen and servant's quarters were below stairs. Mr. Jenkins pointed out that a small staff of servants could maintain the house. Three of them were here presently.

  Lillian stepped into the fresh air again, letting the young groom help her mount. Benjamin lingered with Mr. Jenkins at the front door. She tapped her cane to the mare’s flanks and started for the back of the house. The back of the house opened up to a lawn similar to the front. An unkept kitchen garden looked in need of care. A carriage house and a small stable sat toward the back. It looked as if it could house four horses.

  Benjamin caught up with her and the groom.

  “I think if you marry a princess, it will be perfect.” Lillian smiled.

  “The turrets are quaint, but the rooms could be lightened up. The decor was a bit heavy for my tastes. It does feel like a castle.” Benjamin laughed dryly.

  “You would be lord of the manor here.” She teased.

  “A princess, will you introduce me to one?”

  “You want to be a knight in shining armor?”

  Benjamin shook his head, his eyes alight with mischief as he turned his mount toward the road. “The next appointment is a twenty-minute ride into town.” He looked up toward the sky. “I don’t think there will be time, I hadn’t expected to take so much time here. I am joining my sister and Lord Egerton for Lady Eliza’s soiree this evening. I can send a note to reschedule at a later date.”

  Lillian was a little disappointed. She would love to see the home in town, hoping it boasted a place to keep horses. She had seen some homes with enough land in Bristol to keep a small stable for the carriage horses. Other town folk boarded their horses at a posting inn. If Benjamin wasn’t interested in a farm, a home in town might suit him better. Lillian cantered beside Benjamin, thoughts tumbling through her mind. He was at least ten years older than her. It was logical he would be ready to take a wife. Why was she so conflicted?

  Benjamin escorted her to the dowager
house and helped her dismount, his hands lingered on her waist before dropping to his side. Lillian could feel the attraction when Benjamin was near. Would she regret not encouraging him?

  The groom took the mare and started back toward the stables. Benjamin lingered, waiting for her to enter the cottage.

  “Are you and Lady Faden attending the Soiree this evening?” He looked hopeful.

  “I believe so, Aunt Mary wouldn’t pass up a party at Lady Eliza’s. She takes her responsibility for me very seriously.”

  “And yet, you are not in the market for a husband.” His eyebrow arched; a smile played at the corners of his mouth. “You can help me find my princess among the damsels in attendance tonight.”

  Something pricked inside her at the thought. Her lips tightened, and she tossed her head, opening the door, she disappeared inside before making a retort she would regret. Lillian leaned against the closed door and removed her bonnet.

  “Lillian, is that you?” Aunt Mary called from the parlor.

  Lillian arranged her face into a pleasant smile and entered the room. “Yes, Aunt Mary, I have returned.” Beatrix sat on the sofa, working on some mending, and Aunt Mary held a book while Cyrus dozed by the fire.

  “You’ve been gone a long time, I was concerned.” Aunt Mary laid the book aside and removed her reading spectacles, pinching the bridge of her nose.

  “Benjamin had an appointment to see a home he is thinking of acquiring. He asked if I would accompany him and give an opinion. Mr. Jenkins showed us around the property.”

  “Benjamin?” Aunt Mary’s eyes showed amusement. “And what did Benjamin think?”

  Lillian blinked.

  Had she used Mr. Dalton’s Christian name?

  “Um, Mr. Dalton agreed it looked like a medieval castle. I thought it was too gothic. It boasted two turrets of stone. One on each side of the front of the home. Well, I am going to change before tea.” Lillian left the room before Aunt Mary made any more comments.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lillian and Aunt Mary arrived at the soiree with Benjamin’s family and were greeted by Lady Eliza and Sir William. Guests mingled, and it looked to be a familiar crowd. “You know the Fitzhugh brothers.” Lady Eliza wrapped her arm in Lillian’s and guided her through the parlor into a corner where a striking lady was drawing a caricature of Mr. Brent, who sat in a chair opposite the lady, drawing at a small desk set at the side of the room just left of the fireplace. “I would like to introduce Mrs. Bentley, who is visiting her sister. She has recently been widowed.”

  Lillian narrowed her eyes slightly; the woman wore a soft gray gown. As they moved closer, Lillian noted her evening dress cut daringly low, accentuating her ‘assets.’

  “Mrs. Bentley, I would like you to meet Miss Wilson and Mr. Dalton.” Lady Eliza turned and floated away toward her other guests.

  “Miss Wilson.” The beauty gave Lillian a slight nod dismissing her as she glanced at Benjamin, taking in his full stature.

  “Mr. Dalton, it is a pleasure to meet you.” In one deft movement, Mrs. Bentley managed to extract the drawing of Mr. Brent from the drawing pad, handing it to him while still appraising Benjamin.

  Mr. Brent threw back his head and roared with laughter, apparently heartily enjoying the exaggerated drawing of himself. “You’ve captured a striking resemblance, Mrs. Bentley.” Mr. Brent managed after some minutes. “My mother always said I had a big mouth.”

  Mrs. Bentley stood, drawing her shawl up over her shoulders, which did little to conceal her voluptuous bosom, only managing to draw more attention to it. She was tall with creamy skin, slim yet rounded in an appealing way. At least Mr. Brent seemed to think so as he openly admired her.

  It was all quite cleverly done.

  “Mr. Dalton, I have a vacant chair, please let me draw you. I promise to be kind.” Mrs. Bentley fluttered her lashes in an expertly flirtatious fashion, yet not overly done. Mrs. Bentley was a striking woman, and she knew it.

  She was good.

  Jealousy filtered through Lillian, a new feeling indeed. Mrs. Bentley was too young to be a widow, and yet she wore mourning colors, which complimented her nut-brown hair. Bronze highlights shimmered in the lamplight, which Lillian admitted did make a most appealing sight.

  Mr. Brent broke off his laughing and slapped Benjamin on the back in his bold American way. “I would like to see what Mrs. Bentley makes of you, Mr. Dalton.”

  Benjamin looked at her with that mischievous gleam. “Well, Lillian, should I let Mrs. Bentley make a mockery of me?” Did Benjamin know he’d used her Christian name?

  Mrs. Bentley had, for her smile slipped imperceptibly as she turned her attention to Lillian, taking her in as if for the first time. Lillian felt her quick gaze taking in her full measure as she looked between Benjamin and her.

  Mrs. Bentley’s gentle laugh filter through the air. “Mr. Dalton, I did promise not to make a satire of you. I will only accentuate your most manly qualities. Miss Wilson, what do you say, shall you trust him to me?” Mrs. Bentley’s hand fluttered just above Benjamin's arm.

  Mr. Brent wandered off across the room to show his brother Mrs. Bentley’s work.

  Lillian just managed to keep her smile in place at Mrs. Bentley’s bold flirtation. Surely Benjamin could see what she was doing? But when Lillian looked to him, she only saw his clear blue eyes focused on her waiting for an answer. He cocked his brow at her hesitation.

  Lillian managed to keep her features controlled, smiling through gritted teeth. Why should she care about Mrs. Bentley’s apparent interest in Benjamin? Lillian had no claim on his affections.

  “I think that would be lovely to see what character of you, Mrs. Bentley portrays.” Lillian maintained his gaze.

  “Oh, wonderful.” Mrs. Bentley gushed. “Sit here, if you please.”

  Benjamin sat in Mr. Brent’s vacated seat, and the lovely beguiling widow began her drawing.

  Lillian turned and strolled off, she didn’t need to sit around and listen to the widow flirt with Benjamin. It irritated her that she even cared. She took in the surrounding room, Mr. Brent had joined his brother, and the gaffed as they compared the pictures. Miss Hathaway giggled at the drawings.

  “Miss Wilson, do come and play charades with us, we need one more person to round out the team.” Miss Hathaway asked.

  Isabella joined the group with Miss Hathaway and the two Fitzhugh brothers, Aunt Mary played cards with a group of older matrons, where they could discreetly keep an eye on the young people without interfering in their amusements.

  Lillian seated herself on the chair next to the sofa where she could watch Benjamin without appearing to. Miss Hathaway introduced a brother and sister apparently the niece and nephew of Mrs. Bentley, rounding the group out to six.

  Mr. Brent Fitzhugh and Miss Hathaway stood and explained the rules. Miss Hathaway holding up a glass jar with slips of paper.

  “Miss Hathaway and I have decided to keep the categories simple, we have places and people, to make it interesting. I chose American places, and people and Miss Hathaway chose English.” Mr. Brent pointed to the glass jar displaying the slips of paper.

  “Miss Hathaway will keep score, and we are divided between gentlemen and ladies. As the gracious southern gents that we are, the ladies may begin first.” Mr. Brent followed his speech with a gentlemanly bow.

  We had decided to go clockwise, so Miss Graham, Mrs. Bentley’s niece chose the first slip of paper. After a full five minutes Miss Brimley finally guessed the correct answer as Kensington Gardens, a difficult place to enact.

  Mr. Stuart Fitzhugh had us holding our side with his humorous depiction of the character, which we finally hit on as George, but it was his brother who correctly identified him as George Washington rather than King George. The Americans decidedly had the advantage on that one.

  Lillian found she was quite enjoying herself as the game progressed and forgot about Benjamin and Mrs. Bentley's flirtatious ways. The evening turned pleasant as the fe
stivities wore on and Lillian was reminded of the festivities back home. She missed her family especially Rose, the cousin closest to her in age.

  Isabella tired and so they left having enjoyed the party. Benjamin stayed close to Lillian throughout the evening, which would have been perfect except for the shadow of Mrs. Bentley, who followed as well. It was obvious she was interested in Benjamin who remained very cordial. Was he enjoying the widow’s attention?

  “I thought Mrs. Bentley very pleasant. She is quite young to be a widow. I had no idea lady Linden had a sister so young.” Isabella mentioned to no one in particular. “Eliza said Mrs. Bentley lost her husband eighteen months ago to influenza, which he picked up while traveling on the continent.”

  “How sad, she must have loved him very much to be in mourning after so long,” Lillian replied, watching Benjamin, who was seated across from her.

  He cocked his brow in that adorable way she loved. “Mrs. Bentley told me she hadn’t found anyone interesting enough to shed her widow’s weeds for.”

  “Yet she attends parties, maybe she just wants to maintain the independence her widowed state gives her?” And be able to flirt to her heart's content Isabella thought.

  Benjamin chuckled. “Or maybe she loved him so much she can’t bear to replace him with another.” His eyes twinkle in the soft light of the lamp that swayed in the carriage.

  “Did Mrs. Bentley tell you that while she was drawing your caricature?” Lillian held his gaze. Tension crackled in the air as it always did when she was near him.

  “Benjamin! Did Mrs. Bentley draw your portrait? I want to see it.” Isabella exclaimed.

  Benjamin relaxed, maintaining Lillian’s gaze. “Mrs. Bentley wanted to touch up some things before giving it to me.”

  Isabella giggled, “I saw some of her other drawings, and they are quite clever. I can’t wait to see what she does with you.”

  Lillian giggled as well. “I can’t wait to see what part of your ego she exaggerates.”