Beastly Lords Collection Books 1 - 3: A Regency Historical Romance Collection
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“Mary has outdone herself,” she declared without preamble. “Just wait until you—she broke off as he drew something out of his pocket. It was a small parcel, wrapped in paper.
“What have you there?”
“Remember, I am courting you properly and respectably as if you were an innocent. I’ve brought a sweet treat, of course.”
He handed her the package, and she tore it open.
“Both Fry’s and Cadbury’s!” she exclaimed.
“Their chocolate is equally popular, it seems.”
“Are you trying to fatten me up, like a Christmas goose, or are these for Harry?”
Michael laughed, a familiar sound to her now, and she recalled the night before when she’d laughed so hard with him, she’d nearly cried.
“Your shape is already quite pleasing but were you to grow fatter, there would simply be more of you to love.”
They both stared at each other in silence as the word seemed to echo in the high-ceilinged room. The skin on the back of her neck prickled, but she took a deep breath. It was only an expression, after all.
“I’ll share with Harry in any case,” she said, setting them down on the side table. “He’ll suck on a bar from end to end without stopping. Sometimes Mary shaves one into warm milk for us both. Sometimes, she melts it with butter and cream, too. Come, sit down. Would you like anything?”
As soon as she asked, she wondered if he would request brandy. By the slight cock of his head and the questioning raise of an eyebrow, he was obviously thinking about her offer.
“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” he said at last, bending down to stroke Dash.
Well done, she thought.
“I was considering a glass of wine before dinner,” she confessed.
No harm in that, she thought. Not unless he wanted two glasses before, two during, and two after dinner, in which case, it would be the last time she suggested wine.
At that moment, her little boy appeared for a goodnight kiss and hug. Nanny Finn hovered in the doorway, as Harry climbed upon Ada’s lap.
With her arms wrapped around her son, she said, “Lord Alder has brought you another treat.”
“Chocolate?” asked the little boy, looking toward Michael.
“I’m afraid he’s going to be spoiled,” Ada pointed out, “expecting a sweet every time you visit.”
To her surprise, Michael crouched down and opened his arms. To her even bigger surprise, Harry kissed her cheek before pushing off her lap to go to him.
Scooping him up, Michael held him high overhead, with the boy laughing hard. Swinging him down and then up once more, Michael whistled a happy tune, causing Dash to bark excitedly. Then he swung Harry down again, before sitting next to Ada and letting the boy stretch across his lap.
“You are a big boy, aren’t you, Harry?” Michael asked.
“Yes,” her son declared, still grasping his jacket.
“Then I think you can handle my bringing you a sweet treat sometimes but not every time? Yes?”
“Yes,” her son said again.
Ada felt her laughter bubble up. “I think he would say anything to be agreeable at this point.”
“Maybe,” Michael agreed, snatching up the two bars from the side table, he asked Harry, “Which one?”
“Both!” he said with enthusiasm, and they all laughed again.
“One is for your beautiful mother,” Michael told him. “The other is for you.”
Tentatively, Harry reached out and took the Cadbury chocolate, then he kissed Michael’s cheek, scooted off his lap, and ran out of the room.
“Oh, dear,” Ada said. Then to Nanny Finn, she added, “Hopefully, you can get it away from him after only a bite or two.”
“We’ll see,” the woman said and hurried after her young charge.
Ada and Michael stayed seated closely, side by side, even when the maid came in with their wine.
“Oddly, I was just reading how well Fry’s did at a trade fair this year at Bingley Hall.” She gestured to the newspaper she’d discarded. “Have you heard of it?”
“No,” he said. “Tell me.”
“Built specially for exhibits, it’s up in Birmingham. Like our Crystal Palace, only far less ornate and intended to be permanent. Apparently, chocolate bars and sweets in general were crowd pleasers. Fry’s is run by the founder’s sons now. Can you imagine they went all the way from Bristol to Birmingham for this trade fair, and they’ve pledged over two hundred new types of sweets in the next decade? I can’t imagine what they’ll come up with.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “So, they will take control of the sweets market, do you think?”
She leaned toward him, enjoying finally discussing something of substance with him.
“Not necessarily. The Cadbury brothers also had a display and their factory is actually in Birmingham, thus they were the local favorite. Moreover, they’re opening either an office or a warehouse here in London, perhaps with a plan to gain a majority of the market.”
He blinked at her and sipped his wine.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” she asked.
“Because I am too impressed for words.”
Michael’s praise caused her to feel warm from her head to her toes.
“How could a regular man,” he wondered, “make a profit on England’s love of chocolate?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” she retorted. “Buy shares in cocoa beans. You can find the name of a reputable importer by…”
Ada had started speaking before she’d even thought about her words. And then she trailed off and fell silent as Michael’s eyes widened.
“I mean, you might want to ask a broker of stocks,” she finished, then leaned back, leveled him a cheerful, hopefully somewhat vapid smile, and went back to sipping her wine.
“I’m starting to get the idea you have learned a little something from your father,” he suggested.
She shrugged, hoping it was entirely dismissive.
Now, how to change the topic without being too obvious?
“Speaking of my father, he took Grady to the Old Bailey to see if it sparks him. A friend of my father’s, one of the older judge’s clerks, gave my brother a complete tour, from the courtroom to the barrister’s changing room.”
“What did your brother think?” Michael asked, draping an arm along the back of the sofa, and playing with the tendrils of her hair.
She shivered. “Grady declared he wished to skip being a barrister and go straight to being a judge or even the Sheriff or Lord Mayor, because their accommodations were so nice. He especially liked the Lord Mayor’s dining room.”
Michael nodded. “Perchance he’ll be the Lord Mayor one day. And why not?”
“Why not, indeed,” she agreed.
At that moment, Mr. Randall came in to announce dinner, and Ada felt assured Michael had forgotten her sudden interest in stocks.
Two hours later, and another glass of wine each, not that she was counting, they were in the drawing room, considering cards or chess.
“Either one is fine,” Ada told him, “I always enjoy myself when I’m with you.”
The statement reverberated in her head, as she realized its truthfulness.
How could she have let the impossible happen? She had developed a tendre for Lord Vile.
*
Ada’s words mirrored his own feelings.
“I feel the same way,” Michael admitted. “What’s more, I look forward to each time I get to see you and regret every moment I’m not in your company.”
He might as well get to the crux of the matter that had been on his mind all day.
While she went to the sideboard to retrieve a chessboard, he took a deep breath and dropped to one knee in the middle of her soft Persian rug. Then he waited for her to turn around.
She didn’t. She seemed to be arranging the pieces on the board before lifting it up.
Finally, when he was beginning to feel ridiculous, he cleared his throat.
The crashing sound startled him into nearly standing, but he held his ground even as two pawns and a bishop skittered over toward him.
Speechless, she stood before him, little wooden chessmen all around her and the oak board cracked but not broken at her feet. He hoped it hadn’t been important to her.
“I apologize for startling you,” he began. “I should have begun with a pretty speech and then dropped down here after I had your full attention.”
He took her mild expression as encouraging. At least, she hadn’t fled the room.
“I suppose I have never done things quite conventionally, but now that I think of it, the first time we met, I was at your feet. Thus, here I am again.”
Her smile faltered and she frowned.
“When I picked up your packages,” he reminded her.
“Yes,” she nodded. “I remember.”
Her tone was too serious, too much like the Mrs. St. Ange of weeks past.
“In any case, I’m down here on this rug, which I can see is clumpy with dog fur, by the way. You might want to have a word with your maid.”
All at once, she giggled despite the seriousness of the situation, and he felt his heart lighten.
“Go on,” she urged, clenching the skirt of her gown with fisted hands.
“Yes, of course.” He realized his heart was beating at a fast pace. Moreover, he hadn’t prepared what he wanted to say at all. After he’d purchased the ring, he had thought himself ready.
“To put it plainly, I am on bended knee, among the tufts of Dash’s fur, to ask you for your hand and to find out if you’ll take my name.”
He paused, experiencing a measure of shame. “True, it is not the upstanding name it was when first bestowed upon me, but with your guidance, I shall endeavor to improve its reputation. Already, since being seen with you, less and less do I hear whisperings of Lord Vile when I walk into a room.”
She said nothing, but he could see she was thinking. Undoubtedly, she had many opposing thoughts going through her head at once. He hoped the favorable ones overcame the others.
Michael had envisioned touching her as he made his proposal. To do so now, he would either have to stand and then kneel again when he reached her, or work his way over to her on his knees across the chess pieces. Both options seemed ridiculous. Instead, he held out his hand.
If she came to him, perhaps that would be a good sign.
After a brief hesitation, which felt like eons while he waited, she crossed the vast distance of four feet and laid her hand in his. He covered it with his other one for a moment, closing his eyes.
Damn if he didn’t feel lucky and grateful already.
Then, when he looked at her again, he brought her hand to his lips.
Kissing first her knuckles, he then couldn’t help turning her soft, unblemished hand over and kissing her palm, seeing goosebumps erupt across her forearms.
That was a good sign, he thought.
She shivered, which made him look up at her again.
“If you become Lady Alder, you may still be given the cut direct, the cut indirect, and, I daresay, the cut infernal and the cut sublime, as well. I hope all that nonsense stops eventually, but I cannot promise you some won’t always enjoy a cup of scandal-water and whisper about Lady Vile.”
“Indeed,” she muttered, and he couldn’t help grinning.
In the next instant, though, he had to tell her the words that had been running through his heart and head for days.
With a voice thick with emotion, he told her, “I love you.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Those were the very words Ada had been waiting to hear for a long time. However, they didn’t evoke the response she’d planned and rehearsed. This was the moment when she was supposed to laugh at him, ask precisely how much he loved her, and then tell him she despised him in equal measure.
Instead, she tugged on his arm until he stood in front of her.
“Michael Alder, it’s true you’ve made a bit of a mess of your life for a few years, but you seem mostly respectable at present.”
She was truly surprised at the answer she wanted to give, but she gave it anyway. “Yes, I agree to an engagement.”
He looked surprised, too. “I honestly wasn’t sure you would.” Then he rubbed his hand around the back of his neck as if stretching it.
“I noticed you didn’t say you will become my wife, but you are an honorable person. I assume if you agree to an engagement, you’ll follow through to the wedding.”
That was a valid assumption, and one anyone might make. Nevertheless, she simply couldn’t promise. Ada found she couldn’t speak the words agreeing to become his wife. Some part of her still held onto the tattered remnants of her vengeful plot. She’d lived with it for too long to release it immediately.
Yet, over the course of their engagement, she hoped to let go of the last of her anger. Moreover, if they were to marry, she supposed she would have to tell him everything. For, at that moment, he assumed they’d met for the first time here on Belgrave Square.
She thought about how to respond to the words of love he’d given her. She knew what she felt in her heart—believed it to be love—but it was not pure and full. It was imperfect and dulled by years of resentment.
What could she say?
“I feel very strongly for you, too. I believe it is love.”
His expression, a little tense with apparent apprehension, softened. He raised his hands to hold her face still, and then he kissed her, ending by nibbling on her lower lip.
“Oh, I really like that,” she confessed.
He laughed softly, then he stiffened.
“What an imbecile! A dunce! A dullard!”
“Whatever is the matter?” Ada asked, as he released her and dug in his pocket. “More chocolate?”
“Hardly,” he exclaimed. “I was going to present this to you while I was down on my knees, but I got all muddled. I guess I’m a little nervous.”
Michael started to sink down again to his knees, but she stopped him.
“I think we can stay standing. We can even sit on the sofa, if you like.”
He waited while she sat and then he took a seat beside her. Grabbing her hand, he placed a black velvet box upon her palm.
“Open it,” he urged.
This was not anything she’d imagined happening to her when she planned her move back to London. Not after only a few months of being here, and absolutely not with Lord Vile. The entire situation was dreamlike.
Still, she opened the lid and gasped at the beautiful ring nestled there.
“Do you like it?” he asked eagerly. “I have never chosen jewelry for anyone before. It was rather enjoyable.”
She thought it prettier than any ring she’d ever seen. It seemed he knew her tastes as well as she did.
“Beyond liking it,” she told him. “It suits me perfectly. I wouldn’t have chosen anything else. Thank you.”
“The jeweler may have to adjust the fit. Shall we try it?”
Nodding, Ada let him slip it onto her left hand. It was a little large.
“Why don’t you wear it on another finger, if it fits. At least for now. And then we’ll go together tomorrow. I believe they have a way to determine your size.”
“Yes,” she said, still looking at the rich purple depths of the largest stone. “Maybe they use a tape measure, like a tailor would, except tinier.”
She let him slide the ring on and off each of her fingers until it rested snugly on her pointer finger. When she looked up, their gazes locked.
“You seem rather shocked,” he said, “as if you had no idea I would ask.”
She couldn’t tell him her astonishment was entirely directed at herself. She had actually agreed to become Lord Vile’s fiancée. Had she lost her reason entirely?
“Should I speak with
your father?” he asked. “The only reason I didn’t go to him first was your prior marriage. I believe at this stage of your life, you are permitted to decide for yourself to whom you shall marry.”
“True.” And thank God he hadn’t gone to her father. Baron Ellis would have investigated all he could about Viscount Alder and discovered him to be Lord Vile. Even if her parents didn’t connect Michael’s despicable reputation to what had happened to their daughter in the garden, still, they would have warned her off of him. Two rogues in her life would have been two too many.
“We’ll talk to my parents together sometime soon,” she said.
“As you wish,” he agreed. “I will wait to tell mine until then, though if I encounter Camille in the meantime, she will suss it out of me.”
Ada smiled. She might gain a sister. As well as a brother and new parents and become a viscountess.
Gracious! Why couldn’t she catch her breath? Suddenly, this notion of marriage seemed overwhelmingly real. Reminding herself she had agreed only to an engagement, she calmed.
From then on, Michael came over to dine nearly every day. Moreover, ignoring any disapproving glances, they went everywhere together, often with Harry and Nanny Finn.
Over the next few weeks, they went to the Adelaide Gallery and had their likenesses taken as photographic portraits for a guinea each. They went to the British Institution at Pall Mall to see artists, both dead and living. They went to the Coliseum, or the Cyclorama, as Ada had always called it, to see the plants and flowers, as well as Hornor’s sketches of the panorama of London displayed under the domed rotunda.
Michael was easygoing and a delightful companion. Thoughtfully, he carried Harry upon his shoulders when the boy got tired. He insisted Ada write a list of places she wanted to go for there were so many, they might forget. Through it all, they ignored when anyone looked askance at them, usually exchanging a mutual glance.
What could he do, after all, except continue to be a normal man?
If people expected he would suddenly lunge at a woman or pull out a gin bottle in the middle of the Museum of Practical Geology, what could either of them do to alter such expectations?