Romancing Lord Ramsbury

by Newbold, Ashtyn

  She picked up the book Edward had cast onto the ground, brushing away bits of grass from the cover. A deep burgundy ribbon hung out from a marked page. She opened to it, her eyes sweeping over the words she had not given Edward a chance to read.

  Let me not to the marriage of true minds

  Admit impediments. Love is not love

  Which alters when it alteration finds,

  Or bends with the remover to remove:

  O no! it is an ever-fixed mark

  That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

  It is the star to every wandering bark,

  Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken

  Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

  Within his bending sickle’s compass come:

  Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

  But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

  If this be error and upon me proved,

  I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

  She blinked her tears away, snapping the book closed and holding it to her chest. The beauty of Shakespeare’s words rang through her heart, filling it with melancholy and reflection. How could Edward have dared read those words to her? He didn’t love her. He was as she had always suspected—pretending.

  Her heart stung with betrayal and regret as she walked inside on shaking legs. She had not spoken to Harriett the day before after speaking with Miss Darby. In fact, Grace had closed herself in her room for the entire evening, speaking to no one but their maid, who had sensed something was amiss as she removed the pins from Grace’s hair. She had not even gone to dinner, feigning a cold.

  When Harriett had retired for the evening in the room they shared, Grace had pretended to be asleep. She didn’t trust herself to relay her exchange with Miss Darby without a show of tears. She couldn’t let Harriett see how foolish she had been to care so deeply.

  Steeling herself, Grace pushed through the back door of the house, still clutching the book of sonnets. She closeted her emotions, willing her heart to slow and her legs to quit their shaking. She wanted to feel angry that Edward had deceived her, but instead she only felt increasing sorrow.

  On her way up the stairs, she was stopped by her sister’s voice, echoing in the entry hall.

  “Grace! Are you feeling well again?”

  Grace paused her ascent, drawing a deep breath before turning around. Harriett stood with one hand on the banister, staring up at her. She wore a puce chiffon gown, a selection more suited to a ball than to a morning at home. When she saw Grace’s expression, hers immediately shifted to one of deep concern. “What has happened?”

  Grace felt her chin contract, a sign of coming tears. She slumped against the banister as Harriett hurried up the stairs. Grace swallowed, forcing herself to remain composed. “Much has happened.”

  Harriett placed on hand on her shoulder. “Do tell me.”

  Releasing a sigh, Grace stared down at the marble floor beneath the staircase, the sun glaring upon it through the windows. “Lord Ramsbury just proposed again.”

  Harriett gasped. “Did you accept?”

  Grace shook her head, turning away from Harriett’s disapproving gaze.

  “Why ever not?” her sister asked, her voice heavy with dismay.

  “Lord Ramsbury has not changed as I hoped. He is not genuine in his affection, or at least I am not the sole receiver of it. He is simply eager to marry to keep his fortune, and that is all. I have been a fool, Harriett.”

  Her sister frowned. “What has led you to this conclusion?”

  “I suspected it from the beginning, but Miss Darby found me on my walk home yesterday afternoon. My suspicions were confirmed by our conversation.” Grace made her voice hard in an attempt to hide the tremor within it.

  “Miss Darby? The eldest, Lydia?”

  Grace nodded. Harriett was further acquainted with the Darbys than Grace, as Miss Lydia Darby was closer to her in age, and the two had spent much time together in their youth.

  Harriett clutched Grace’s shoulder more tightly, an urgency in her grasp. “What did she say to you?”

  Grace did not want to dwell on the words again. They had left a deep hole inside her. “She witnessed Lord Ramsbury and me on the beach with Juliet,” Grace said, her voice strained. “She saw our… overly familiar interactions. Then she told me that she had seen Lord Ramsbury just the day before, sharing a kiss with Miss Reed.”

  Grace waited for a gasp to come from Harriett, some indication that she was appalled by the news, but she simply stared, eyes wide. “I would not have suspected Miss Darby to be that despicable.”

  “Miss Darby?” Grace shook her head. “It was not a despicable act at all. I am glad she told me what she witnessed.”

  “How could you have possibly believed her?” Harriett could not conceal her shock.

  “Should I not?”

  “You most certainly should not.” Harriett lowered her voice. “Miss Darby will do anything to keep Lord Ramsbury from marrying any other woman besides herself. She fancies herself madly in love with him. She is an untruthful woman, Grace. Her word is not to be trusted.”

  A wave of confusion struck her. “Why would she invent such a dreadful story?”

  “Because in her spying on you and Lord Ramsbury, she realized his intentions toward you and hoped to stop them.” Harriett’s cheeks fumed with anger. “How despicable.”

  Grace considered her sister’s explanation, desperately wanting it to be true. “How can I be certain? In my acquaintance with her, she has not given me a reason to distrust her. Lord Ramsbury has. I am better off believing her than him, am I not?”

  “Trust my judgement,” Harriett said. “I am certain Miss Darby’s words to you were a direct lie.”

  Grace’s heart thudded, hope rising within her. No. She could not allow it. She had just rejected Edward a second time. Whether Miss Darby’s words were true or not, Edward would never propose again. He would likely never wish to see her again, just as she had told him. Her opportunity was passed.

  “But I do not know for certain,” Grace whispered, her voice too weak for anything more. “I cannot rely on a guess or suspicion.”

  Harriett chewed one nail, deep thought in her eyes. “We will discover the truth. But you must know, from what I have witnessed, I suspect Lord Ramsbury is quite in love with you.”

  Grace fiddled with a loose thread on her gown. “How do you know?”

  Harriett was silent for a long moment before she shrugged. “Truth is shown in the actions of people, not in their words. Miss Darby has shown herself to be dishonest and spiteful in all the time I have known her. Her words to you should therefore mean nothing. Lord Ramsbury professes to wish to marry you because he cares for you. Has he shown you that he cares for you, or has he only spoken it?”

  Grace searched her mind for the answer. One question had haunted her since the moment Edward arrived on the property this morning: if Edward didn’t care for her at all, then why did he continue to propose? Could he not give up and choose a new lady—even Miss Reed?

  Her thoughts spun too rapidly to formulate a response. Harriett smiled. “Do not lose hope. The ball at Pengrave is in one week. We have received our invitation and I am certain many Brighton families will be in attendance as well. You will see Lord Ramsbury there. The two of you may then sort out your feelings.”

  Grace shook her head hard, panic rising within her. “No. I cannot face him again. Not after I so harshly rejected him.” She still did not know if he could be trusted or not. She couldn’t risk seeing his blue eyes, hearing his voice, allowing herself to be deceived again.

  “Please, Grace. You must go!”

  Grace sighed. “I will consider it.”

  “I suppose this week will be a test of his devotion. If he is not engaged to another woman by the ball, and is still set on you, then we will know for certain.”

  “How can anything be certain?” Grace let out a long sigh, dragging her
fingers over her cheeks.

  “If he asked you again to marry him, what would be your response?”

  “I do not know. But I doubt he will ask again. If he does, I will have little choice in the matter. Mama was very disappointed that I refused him.”

  Harriett’s eyebrows rose. “Is that why she came marching inside as if she had just seen the devil himself?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “I do see her wisdom,” Harriett said. “He is wealthy and handsome.”

  “But he does not love me.”

  “Stop saying that, Grace! Perhaps you have not seen it, but I have. He looks at you as if you are… an angel descended from the heavens. Or as I would look at a new bonnet made of the finest fabrics and lace of the continent.”

  A smile slipped past Grace’s fear. But only for a moment. Did she dare attend the ball? Her stomach turned at the thought. But she had a week to prepare, to determine if she had the courage.

  Harriett giggled. “And you look at him as if he is a Shrewsbury cake.”

  “Harriett!” Grace covered her face, a cursed blush burning her cheeks. “I do not.”

  “You do indeed.”

  Grace peeked through her fingers, her sister’s smile infectious.

  Harriett’s laughter subsided. “I will speak to Miss Darby if you wish. Or as an even more reliable source, I will speak with Miss Reed.”

  Grace gave a slow nod. If Harriett spoke to Miss Reed casually about the matter, she could decipher the truth.

  “They will both be in attendance at the ball, to be sure. I will make certain to speak with Miss Reed directly.”

  “Thank you, Harriett,” Grace said. A small part of her now burned with hope, something she had been lacking before meeting her sister here and learning of Miss Darby’s potential deception. Doubt still thrived in great quantity, but even the smallest bit of hope had a way of dispelling it.

  “At any rate, I have little choice but to help you,” Harriett said. “I am responsible for suggesting our wager, which has placed you in this plight. My conscience would not allow me to stand by and watch you suffer.”

  “Then I suppose it is your conscience that deserves my gratitude.”

  Harriett laughed. “My conscience thanks you.”

  Grace started up the stairs again, her steps feeling much lighter than when she had entered the house. Would Edward attempt to see her before the ball? No. She had asked him not to see her. Had her words actually struck him? Her mind flashed with the memory of his face, the defeat she had seen in his features. It was true what Harriett said—Grace would need to watch his actions. As she considered his recent actions toward her, she found that they contradicted Miss Darby’s claim.

  But pretending was one of Edward’s strengths.

  Her head ached as she closed the door of her bedchamber behind her. It would be a long week, to be sure.

  Chapter 15

  A familiar feeling settled in Edward’s chest each morning when he awoke. He thought he had abandoned it, but it had returned, destructive and painful. Ever since Grace had rejected him five days before, he had wrestled with the returning feelings of loss, regret, and an utter absence of hope.

  He groaned as he sat up in bed, pushing his hair from his forehead. How could he carry on like this? It had been several days, and he felt himself slipping back to the habits that had brought his father to the decision to disinherit him. He had spent the night before in the library with a bottle of brandy, and had only found his way to his bedchamber with the help of Henry.

  Edward rubbed his head. This was wrong. He would not allow it to happen again. He would be the man his mother and sister expected him to be. He would fulfill his role.

  But his father was dying rapidly, and the thought of finding a different woman to marry filled him with aching dread. But Grace had made herself clear. She hated him, just as she had always said.

  He came to his feet, cringing at the pounding in his head. He had allowed Miss Buxton’s rejection to bring him to a pitiful state such as this. He couldn’t let Grace do it too. His heart stung at the thought of her.

  The loss of Miss Buxton now felt like a distant memory, a faint and shallow wound. Even as he considered the feelings he endured at her rejection when it was fresh, they did not compare at all to the depth of hurt Grace had inflicted on him.

  What had he done wrong? He still had no explanation for her sudden coldness toward him. The contrast from the day before his proposal was stark, and he could not decipher why. Twice he had almost ventured to her house again to beg for an explanation.

  Readying himself quickly, he called upon his valet to quicken the process. He had been spending his days with Juliet, who needed him now more than ever. Juliet had surely been confused at Edward’s distant behavior over the last several days.

  He refused to become to Juliet how their father had been all their lives.

  Edward made his way down the stairs, finding his sister in the drawing room with a thick book. She wore her father’s spectacles as she read, though she didn’t need them. The image reminded him of Grace, and his heart stung all over again. He smiled at her from the doorway, surprised to see Henry and their mother beside her.

  Henry’s eyes lifted, settling on Edward with a look of disapproval. “I hope you have a cutting headache.”

  “Thank you for your concern,” Edward said with a soft smile. “Not to worry. I have abandoned the drink. I will not become once again the dreadful creature I was.”

  His mother glanced up with a weary smile before returning her focus to Juliet’s book, from which she read aloud in a quiet voice.

  “I am glad to hear it.” Henry patted the brocade sofa. “Sit.”

  Edward obeyed, eyebrows raised.

  “Have you found a new woman to pursue?”

  The dread in Edward’s stomach surged. “No. I do not plan to.”

  His mother stopped reading, leaning around her daughter to touch Edward’s knee. “Your father insists upon it. There is little time. I do not wish to see you endure the scrutiny that a disinheritance would bring upon you.” She gave him a gentle glance. “I am very sorry that Miss Grace will not marry you. I know how difficult it has been for you. But there is still time for you to find a new woman, one that will be willing and enthusiastic at the thought of being your wife.”

  He recalled Grace’s conversation with her own mother outside the stables. Grace had seemed to consider changing her mind, but only for his wealth. If he asked her again, would her answer be different? He felt as though he at least needed an explanation. He drew a heavy breath. “Perhaps you are right. I ought to give up.”

  Henry’s eyes rounded. “I have never known you to surrender.”

  “That is because my pride would not allow it. Miss Grace Weston trampled my pride and tore it into thousands of pieces.” He smiled, but it never reached his eyes.

  “Oh, my dear.” His mother touched his cheek affectionately. “Grieving a loss is never easy. I will grieve your father, but eventually I must carry on with the life I have been given. You may grieve Miss Grace, but you too must carry on.”

  Edward nodded slowly, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Who might I pursue instead?”

  His mother sat back, rubbing her chin. “Miss Rose Daventry is a pretty young lady with a respectable family.”

  He groaned. “No. That is who Grace suggested.”

  “Very well.” She glanced heavenward, her forehead tightening in thought. “You might consider Miss Elizabeth Reed? I know she is the eldest and her family is quite eager to have her married. She is a quiet sort of girl, fairly pretty, with many accomplishments to note. Her mother is a dear friend of mine.”

  A quiet sort of girl was precisely what Edward needed. Anything else would remind him too much of Grace. He sighed. “When might I see this Miss Reed?”

  “I am certain she will be in attendance at the ball at Pengrave in two days. I will ensure you are introduced.”

  He pushed
back his reluctance, reminding himself that this was necessary. “Very well.” His voice was curt, hiding the emotions within him. He stood from the sofa, the room suddenly too stuffy to breathe. With a quick farewell, he departed, stopping in the hallway. He tightened his jaw and fisted his hands. He had once been looking forward to the ball at Pengrave, the residence of his friend, Philip.

  But now he couldn’t wait until it was over.

  * * *

  The ride to Pengrave was longer than Edward had expected, giving him far too much time to worry. He stared out the window, his usual smile long absent. The carriage moved over the uneven path, causing his knees to bounce against Henry’s, who sat across from him. Their mother had stayed with their father and Juliet, leaving her sons to represent their family at the ball.

  Nothing sounded quite as terrible as dancing at the moment, and Edward’s heart pounded with the possibility of seeing Grace. He was supposed to be pursuing Miss Reed, for his mother had appointed a mutual acquaintance to introduce them, and he was to claim her first dance.

  His skull throbbed with a renewed headache as the interior lighting of Pengrave came into view, candles flickering brightly through the windows. Since the marriage of Lord and Lady Seaford, they had yet to host such a grand ball, and all of Brighton had been looking forward to it. The grounds were full of people who stared up in awe at the tall, haunting estate as they crossed the grass to the entrance.

  Edward lacked the energy to portray his usual public appearance, keeping a serious expression instead. Society would surely understand, as it was common knowledge that his father’s death was near. They did not need to know that the most prominent reason for his stoic expression was a broken heart.

  When he and Henry reached the interior of the home, they were ushered toward the ballroom. He stopped with his brother in the crowded entry hall. The ballroom was already filled to near capacity with guests, many faces familiar among them. Edward found himself searching for Grace before stopping himself.