Beastly Lords Collection Books 1 - 3: A Regency Historical Romance Collection

by Sydney Jane Baily

Jenny’s third time in the dining room was definitely the most pleasant, she thought. Finally, it was alive with flickering, long tapered candles, delicious aromas, and happy people.

  “Most unfortunate about the hasty departure of your visitors.” Simon broached the subject of Ned and Maisie’s leaving as their wine was being poured. “They must have had pressing business.”

  Though it was impossible that Simon could know what had occurred between her and Ned, still Jenny sensed an undertone of satisfaction that her cousins had left Sheffield.

  Her mother spoke first. “Had they known of your invitation, my lord, I’m sure they would have delayed their departure.”

  “Then how fortunate for us that they did not know,” he said.

  For a moment, they were all silent, digesting his words, then Eleanor giggled.

  Simon looked innocently nonplussed. “I meant only that I wouldn’t have wanted to inconvenience them or have them change their plans on my account.”

  Jenny hid a smile by looking down at her lap and arranging her napkin. She knew precisely how Simon felt about Ned and was quite certain that he was unconcerned over inconveniencing him.

  “As long as you were not insulted,” Anne added, “then we are untroubled by their departure.”

  “Then rest assured, you should be entirely untroubled.”

  Maggie spoke up. “My lord, I should very much like to take this opportunity to once more offer my most sincere gratitude regarding a Season for myself and for Eleanor.”

  He nodded and shrugged at the same time.

  “Please, think nothing of it, Miss Margaret. You have already said as much. I am happy to do it. I would extend the offer to Miss Blackwood,” he said, looking at Jenny. “However, she has already expressed her disinterest in such an undertaking.”

  She was even more disinterested since beginning her blossoming friendship with him! If Simon truly wanted her to go away in January and find a husband, she would be most downhearted.

  Raising an eyebrow at her oldest daughter, perhaps wondering why Jenny and the earl had discussed such a topic, Anne said, “Nevertheless, Lord Lindsey, we are, as a family, immensely grateful. Aren’t we Eleanor?”

  Caught sipping wine and staring up at one of the enormous chandeliers, Eleanor choked, coughing profusely while her family looked on with chagrin.

  “Some water for our youngest guest,” Simon ordered one of the servants standing by the sideboard. Immediately, the woman stepped forward and filled Eleanor’s spare glass with water.

  While she regained her composure, Jenny filled the silence.

  “If Margaret is to attend the upcoming Season, we will need to begin preparations shortly. We need to find a skilled local dressmaker or go to Manchester or Nottingham.”

  Simon regarded her with thoughtful eyes. “Practical planning, Miss Blackwood. Unfortunately, I cannot help you with ascertaining where local ladies obtain gowns. I must confess that I have never even considered the matter.”

  “Perhaps Lady Devere could assist us. I’ve only met her once, but she was dressed beautifully.”

  “I’ve met her a number of times,” Maggie added, “and she is always fashionably clothed.”

  Simon frowned slightly. “I invited her to our dinner tonight, but she refused. Something about a headache. Perhaps Miss Margaret can speak with her directly next time they meet over a tutoring session.”

  Their mother spoke up. “Please tell Lady Devere we hope she is feeling better. Such a shame to miss this delightful evening.”

  Simon nodded. “To be frank, she and I have never dined together when not in the company of her late husband. I have not seen her since my return.”

  All the ladies murmured a platitude of condolence over his cousin’s death. Yet, not one of them thought it odd that Maude Devere chose not to dine alone with Lord Lindsey. Indeed, Jenny knew the same thought ran through each of her family member’s heads—how scandalous had it been otherwise.

  She also realized that Maude must be desperately lonely. No wonder the woman wanted to return to her family in France.

  “Did Sir Devere and his wife not have a home in London?” Jenny asked. “I only wonder since I am sure she would be more at ease surrounded by the social engagements open to a widow in the city, as opposed to the intense isolation she must feel here in the country.”

  She glanced at her mother. “Not meaning any disrespect for my dear mother, of course.”

  Lady Lucien Blackwood drew herself up tall. “No disrespect taken at all, dear. If I didn’t have you three girls with me, I cannot imagine how I would have endured this past year.”

  The Blackwood women all shared a moment of mutual admiration until Simon coughed and spoke.

  “I’m certain it was difficult nonetheless, to leave behind your home in London for good.”

  Anne nodded. “Yes, my lord, it was. I have many happy memories there, but I am also extremely grateful that we had a place to come to here. And I am even more grateful that we shall be returning to London by your munificence. I hope you will not mind if I accompany my daughters.”

  “Of course not. My home in London has ample room for all of you, including Miss Eleanor and Miss Blackwood should they choose to accompany you.”

  Jenny remembered her conversation with him on this very subject. Was he trying to get rid of her for the many months of a season? How would she earn any income for her family if she were in London? Moreover, if she didn’t take part in the Season, what would she do with her days? No, the idea of going to London was not palatable at all. She would definitely be seen as securely on the shelf and, furthermore, entirely irrelevant to all society.

  She shuddered.

  “Do you feel a draft, Miss Blackwood?”

  His question indicated that Simon had been scrutinizing her carefully.

  “No, my lord.”

  Before they could make any further conversation, the first course was served.

  Hours later, they were full of fish and fowl and sweet warm treacle pudding. There was no man to retire with Simon to his smoking room for port and cigars, and the ladies would feel foolish sitting drinking tea while waiting for him to return alone. Instead, the evening was declared a great success, and the Blackwoods donned their capes in the front hall.

  After expressing his delight at their company, Simon turned to Jenny.

  “Miss Blackwood, regarding the bookkeeping issues that you have recently uncovered, will you come tomorrow so we may discuss them in depth?”

  Jenny was caught off guard by his request for her rapid return.

  When she hesitated, he added, “Binkley informed me in a general fashion of some discrepancies you discovered, and I spent a goodly amount of time going over your summation. I appreciated it immensely. However, I need your skilled mathematical proficiency to explain in person what I am looking at in the ledgers.”

  Taking a deep breath, she tried to stave off any blush creeping into her cheeks. The sooner she and her family departed, the better. Elsewise, she feared that her mother would somehow guess that the last time Lord Lindsey summoned her to his manor, it had ended in a rather compromising situation in his garden.

  “Certainly, my lord. I will be here at whatever time suits you.”

  Simon waved his hand nonchalantly. “Anytime you wish, Miss Blackwood. I will be here awaiting your arrival with anticipation.”

  With no greater anticipation than she would feel, of that Jenny was certain.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Simon knew he’d been rather wicked by asking Jenny to return in front of her family when she could hardly put up a fuss or start protesting over possible impropriety without insulting him. Practical Miss Blackwood couldn’t, or wouldn’t, insult him after he’d had them all there to dine.

  What’s more, he knew he should have invited one of her sisters to accompany Jenny. However, if she wanted to succeed in the professional world, she would have to swallow any squeamishness about meeting with gentlemen in their ho
mes. After all, not all of them would be thinking inappropriate thoughts rather than worrying over their finances.

  On second thought, Simon knew that was a preposterous and highly dangerous idea. The only gentleman’s home in which he could countenance the beguiling Jenny being unaccompanied was his own. And he certainly had some vastly improper thoughts running through his head – leading to some even more shocking feelings running through his body.

  Sighing, he poured himself a healthy portion of port and retired to the parlor. He was starting to feel quite at home … being at home. Having the Blackwood family, delightful in every respect, dining with him had been easy. At no time had he felt the urge to yell or close his eyes or run.

  Perhaps he was nearly back to his old self entirely.

  Thanks to Genevieve Blackwood!

  *

  “There you are. At last.” He got to his feet and bowed slightly in greeting.

  Jenny frowned at his words. Simon had distinctly told her that he didn’t mind when she showed up. Thus, she’d been determined not to appear so eager as to arrive on his doorstep before taking her midday meal.

  “Yes,” she said, “here I am. I didn’t expect you to be waiting in the library.”

  “No matter,” he said. “I like it in here. I was always an avid reader. I’d nearly forgotten how much I missed the luxury of opening a book and flipping through its pages.”

  Staring down at the book in his hand, he seemed to drift off into his thoughts.

  “I spent a great deal of time going over stories while I was imprisoned, trying to recall details. Sometimes, I would have to go over a book many times before I could remember a character’s name. In the end, it gave me something to do and kept me from going entirely insane.”

  “You’re not the least bit insane,” she assured him. She was going to ask him if he’d had a better night’s sleep. However, by the ruffled appearance of his hair and the dark circles under his eyes, she thought he had not. Instead, she nodded at the book. “What are you reading now?”

  Looking slightly sheepish, Simon shrugged. “No great literary work to improve my mind, I’m afraid.” He held up the book and showed her the frontispiece with the title of Captain Singleton. “Just an adventure story.”

  “A good one,” she said.

  “You’ve read Defoe?” He appeared surprised. “I thought Archimedes would be more to your liking.”

  Jenny made a sour face. “Do you think me so dull, my lord, that I wouldn’t like an adventure story?”

  He didn’t respond but merely raised a disapproving eyebrow.

  “Do you think me so dull, Simon?” she repeated. “And you know it is entirely improper for me to call you that. Why, I’ve known husbands and wives who never use their spouse’s first names.”

  He laughed. “I’ve known them, too, but I can’t say I liked them.”

  She smiled. “True enough.” How good to hear him engaging in light banter.

  For her part, she wanted the type of relationship in which she felt comfortable proclaiming her husband’s first name not only in private, but also in front of others. It was a wife’s right to intimacy.

  However, she and Lord Lindsey did not have that relationship, nor any such rights.

  Looking around, Jenny saw the ledgers already opened and spread upon the large oval table. “I suppose we should get started.”

  He balanced the open book on the chair’s thickly upholstered arm beside him.

  “I suppose.”

  An hour later, she felt he had a sound grasp of the issues. On her part, she’d had to work hard to keep her focus on the numbers, something she’d never had a problem with before. Simon’s nearness, the way he brushed her arm with his as he reached across her to turn a page. The way he leaned close to pore over an account. The way he smelled deliciously of the distinct Pears soap scent. Perfectly fresh, not sweet, not musky, simply clean.

  “Jenny.” He repeated her name, and she realized that she’d been leaning close sniffing him. Oh dear.

  “Yes, my lord … Simon.”

  He grinned. “My lady Jenny,” he teased. “I asked if you thought any of these were simply unfortunate errors, perhaps due to unqualified people making entries.”

  She hated to say this, particularly when a dead man could not defend himself.

  “No. I do not. From what I understand, your cousin was adept at accounting, as you know. Or at least, your father believed him to be, and the lessening of recorded income started then.”

  Glancing into his blue eyes, Jenny wanted to be utterly clear.

  “Since your cousin left for battle, certainly there have been careless, even sloppy, entries, but the sustained, diminishing of funds began while he was overseeing the ledgers. I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head. “There is nothing for which you should be sorry. I appreciate your trying to sort this mess out, regardless of how it got this way. I tried to speak with Maude the other day. I fear she has been avoiding me. Strange though.”

  “What is?”

  Simon sat back and crossed his arms. “She hasn’t gained from anything Tobias did, if indeed, he was siphoning off family income. Where is the missing revenue? Why did she have to sell her home, indeed a Devere holding that she should not have let go without permission from my father or me.”

  “You were not here,” Jenny pointed out. “After your father’s death, to whom should she have sought permission if she was in dire straits?”

  “My uncle, I suppose, her father-in-law.”

  “Perhaps he did give her permission to sell Jonling Hall.”

  “I have sent him a letter asking as much. What’s more, I still don’t know who my neighbor is going to be.”

  Jenny felt heat creep into her face at the disgraceful scene that had unfolded on the hall’s doorstep.

  “What is it?” Simon narrowed his eyes. “Do you know something about the new owner that I do not?”

  “No.” She stopped. What could she say? “I did find myself passing by there, with my cousin.”

  Simon’s own expression darkened.

  “We learned nothing,” she rushed on. “However, I must say, the servants were quite rude and protective of the residence.”

  “They were, were they?” He stood and stretched his arms overhead.

  She gaped at the casual display of his physique, again reminding her of how she expected spouses to behave in front of one another. He continued to twist his torso this way and that, unnoticing of her observation.

  Until he turned suddenly and caught her gaze.

  “I think I should pay a visit to the hall,” he said. “Would you like to accompany me?”

  Recalling her last visit there and thinking of what the servant might say, she balked.

  “I should be getting home.”

  “Nonsense. A quick carriage ride.” He waggled his eyebrows, taking her thoughts to their last time in his tilbury.

  “Perhaps a stroll,” Jenny suggested.

  Beside her once more, Simon offered her his hand. Taking it, she let him draw her to her feet. He continued to hold on to her, staring down into her upturned face.

  “In answer to the question I left hanging earlier, no, I do not consider you dull at all. Quite the opposite. I believe you to be adventurous and brave and even unconventional. All the while, remaining pragmatic. How do you do it?”

  Rendered speechless, Jenny shook her head. What could she say?

  Simon looked as if he might add something more. However, in the next instant, she thought he might simply lean down and kiss her.

  Instead, after a long moment, the earl released her hand, stepped back, and gestured for her to precede him out of the room.

  The very honest and utterly feminine Jenny admitted disappointment to herself. The practical Jenny thought it a narrow escape indeed. Where would all these intimate encounters end?

  *

  Simon thought he’d maneuvered the situation well to end up taking a long unaccompanied w
alk with Genevieve Blackwood, though a covered carriage would have afforded the privacy they might both have enjoyed.

  He was determined to find an opportunity for another one of their astonishingly sizzling kisses. He’d nearly done so in the library but thought it might scare her away from walking with him, and he was not ready to part company. Yet now, as he donned his coat and she picked up her reticule, kissing her was utmost in his mind once again. Each previous time, he had felt a punch of shock at how exciting it was to kiss her.

  Truthfully, that surprised him. After all, he’d made love to women before, and it had not always progressed slowly from kissing to petting to carnal copulation. Depending on the woman, of course, each knew what they wanted out of the encounter and how far they were prepared to let him go. Despite the reputation of country girls, he’d found that the London set were far more likely to lift their skirts in a vacant room a mere closed door away from a ballroom full of dancers.

  During more than one social season in Town, he’d had his share of furtive encounters with doe-eyed misses, sick of dancing, tired of teasing and being teased. They wanted to be kissed and touched. A couple expressed their desire to feel a man inside them, and Simon had been more than willing to fulfill their wishes.

  Looking back, his actions were dangerous as hell. He could’ve been caught by any one of them if they’d wanted to trap him into marriage.

  He took Jenny’s arm in his. This woman had snared his attention and affection in a much more sublime way, by earning both.

  The only sound for a few minutes was that of their footsteps crunching on the gravel, which then fell nearly silent upon the dirt road beyond his estate. She had let him take her arm and tuck it against his side. It felt utterly correct to do so. He could imagine walking with her this way anywhere, perhaps strolling in Bath from his townhouse to the mineral spa, or enjoying the sights of Paris and Prague together, or entering Blessington’s gorgeous home in London to show off his new wife.

  His wife? Yes, that felt right, too.

  “How is it that you cannot tell by a purchase agreement who has bought the hall?”

  Simon nearly laughed. While his mind was floating ever more romantically toward wedded bliss, hers was focused on the practical matter at hand.