A Rogue's Courtship: Clean Regency Romance Collection

by Madeline St. James

  “I apologized, again and again, Lady Bradford. I don’t know what else there was to say.”

  “I know. I am not talking about the apology, Lady Catherine. I am referring to the loneliness you endeavored to put into your letters. But somehow, each one does not fully encompass your feelings about how terribly lonely you are, and have been, since your own mother passed away.” Catherine saw the tears in Lady Sophia’s eyes and she had to blink back her own. So she did understand what Catherine was trying to explain in her letters. For a moment, Catherine felt vindicated. Her feelings were finally being acknowledged.

  “I lost you,” Catherine cried, her tears slipping hot and wet down her cheeks. “The moment you met him. I saw it on your face. You were leaving me too, Lady Sophia.” In an instant, she felt the press of Lady Sophia to her as she embraced her in a hug.

  “I know. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you behind, Lady Catherine. I didn’t know what I was doing, and it all happened so fast. I’m sorry I forgot to slow down and consider how you might feel.”

  “It’s alright. I was so selfish,” she admitted. “The Viscount is the perfect match for you, and I was just so jealous. I wanted to keep you, to have someone in my life who would not walk away from me. Please forgive me, Lady Sophia. Please forgive me.” Catherine cried so hard she almost forgot what she was crying for. She sobbed about the injustice of what she had done to her friend, the loneliness that surrounded her, and for Lord Desmond.

  “Lady Catherine, there is nothing more to speak on the matter as long as you promise to come to tea next weekend,” Sophia comforted her.

  “Of course I will come. But I am afraid the Viscount will not welcome me.”

  “Let me handle the Viscount.” Catherine released Lady Sophia and both women turned their attention to the mirrors adorning the wall to dab at their tear blotched faces. “So...you and Lord Desmond?”

  Catherine laughed. “I’m sorry, but no. My father, Lord Chancellor Haddington, has agreed to an arranged marriage with the Baron Desmond of Clearwater Manor. Lord Desmond is here on his behalf.”

  “B..B..Baron Desmond? But...he’s...he’s so old!” The incredulity on Lady Sophia’s face made Catherine laugh harder at her own misfortune.

  “That he is, but I am afraid it’s true. The tongues of the ton wag as ever, and I’m afraid I stepped too far at the masquerade ball. My reputation is drastically tarnished, and the Baron agreed to an arranged marriage and my father readily accepted to quell any further rumors as far as my reputation is concerned.”

  “Lady Catherine, that’s horrid! Surely you will let me talk with the Viscount. Perhaps we can issue a statement that the entire affair was a misunderstanding.”

  “That is truly kind of you, Lady Sophia. But the Viscount owes me no kindness, and the affair was there for everyone to bear witness. What’s done is done, and I can’t alter the events of that night, however much I wish to.”

  “But you can’t resign yourself to this! You just can’t. I know you, Lady Catherine. You will be miserable.”

  Catherine looked over at her friend and gave her a small smile. There was no way she could let her in on the secret she held. The plan she had formed. She winked, a rather wicked action, but Lady Sophia blinked and smiled wide.

  “I should have known you would have a nefarious plan hatched to work your way out of this.”

  “Lady Sophia, upon my word, I don’t know what you speak of!” Catherine exclaimed, fanned herself, and turned to the door. “Shall we away, then?”

  “Oh, you are wicked. You must tell me about it next weekend. You positively must!” Catherine laughed and reached for the door. “Lady Catherine, what have you done to your hands?” Lady Sophia grabbed her and pulled her arm to closer inspect the blisters and raw knuckles. Lady Catherine tried to conceal them with gloves, but even the redness could be seen through the delicate lace.

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” Catherine said breezily. “A bit of work to pass the time is all. I’m afraid needlework is not something my disposition is predisposed to tolerate.”

  “Lady Catherine, I myself do needlework and I have never encountered such injuries as these, surely-” But before Lady Sophia could question her further, Catherine pulled open the door and walked out, not bothering to wait for the concierge to open it for her. Lady Catherine walked back to the theater in silence under the curious stare of Lady Sophia, but she felt mildly elated by the whole ordeal. At least there was one aspect of her life she had been able to make peace with.

  When the night was over, and much to the chagrin of the Viscount of Bradford, Lady Catherine embraced Lady Sophia, and smiled behind her fan when the Viscount and the remaining theater goers began to stare. She didn’t even bother to answer her father when he inquired about their rekindled friendship once they were in the carriage. Lady Catherine looked at him behind hooded eyes and then returned her gaze back outside the carriage.

  “Lady Catherine, you and I will have to make amends in this if we are to get on forevermore,” Lord Chancellor said quietly. Lady Catherine looked between her father and Lord Desmond, who looked pointedly out the window.

  “There’s nothing more to discuss on the matter if you have not seen reason to change your mind on the matter,” she responded and laughed sardonically. “I didn’t think so, Lord Chancellor. Remember, it is your inability to compromise that is the obstacle between any amends between you and I.”

  She turned away when she saw his jaw tighten. She refused to let the tears that she felt sting her eyes fall from her cheeks. How could he be so cruel? If he truly had her best intentions at heart, he wouldn’t be forcing her to do something she so vehemently objected to.

  When they pulled in front of the house, Lady Catherine allowed Lord Desmond to help her down from the carriage, and when the Lord Chancellor looked as if he was going to interject and demand a further interaction, she walked swiftly up the path to the townhouse and went inside without awaiting an escort. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard Lord Desmond beseech her father on her behalf and say, “you know the proposition I have put forth to you, Lord Chancellor. Please reconsider it so that you might not lose your own daughter. The Lady Haddington-”

  “Enough, I’ll not hear another word on it. It is dishonorable and if you don’t respect my decision, I will have to ask you to excuse your presence until such a time as the nuptials are to take place this spring at Clearwater Manor.”

  Catherine could guess at what Lord Desmond had asked of her father, and even if she was given the opportunity to interject on his behalf, she could have informed him that his endeavors would be fruitless. The Lord Chancellor stood on his honor above anything else. But Catherine had her own ideals of honor.

  Catherine met Sarah in her room, who held a letter out for her. The paper was crumpled and smudged, so she knew where it was from before she even opened it. Claire had scrawled, in impressive handwriting, a missive on behalf of Madame Kingston.

  “My Lady,

  Please come post haste. Cook has taken ill, and Madame is an uproarious state, being unable to feed the patrons of the dining room. She is offering other services, of course; but if word gets around that the establishment has suffered, Madame will lose business.

  Best,

  Claire B.”

  Catherine folded the note, slipped it into a crevice in her writing desk, and then hurried to ready herself. Sarah looked on with pursed lips but said nothing. When she was ready, Sarah went to the bed and arranged the wig under the blankets across the pillow just as Catherine had done. She all but ran to Madame Kingston’s house and slipped on the ice once, soaking herself to the hip in dirty slush water. She got up, swiped at the stain, and rang her skirts out before she continued on her way. When she arrived at the house, she indeed stepped into a state of tumultuous uproar. Apparently, the services Madame Kingston had offered was an excess of ale, because the patrons were rowdier than usual. The girls under the employ of Madame Kingston were doing all that they coul
d to keep the men in line.

  Catherine stepped in and began wrestling one of the men off of Claire, who was trapped under him on a bench. It earned her an elbow to the stomach for her trouble, and it took her grabbing the empty mug on the table and whacking the unruly vagrant on the shoulder to get his attention. He howled in pain and Catherine helped Claire slip out from under him. Then, they began wrestling another patron who was accosting Rose.

  “If we don’t calm them down, they’ll o’er run the establishment, and someone will be sure to call the Bobbies!”

  Catherine could just imagine if she was brought home under the accompaniment of the local law officers. The reaction her father might have! He’d forgo the betrothal and have her locked away in a nunnery faster than she could imagine, and she had a fanciful imagination.

  Catherine and the other girls continued to partition off the rowdiest of patrons. Some of them were brought above stairs to sleep off their night of debauchery, and others still to await their continued services. A few still were kicked out, so that by the time they were done, Madame Kingston and the rest of the women sat around the dining room looking harried and with more than a few bumps and bruises. Drunken snores sounded from several of the corners, and Catherine, sitting amongst them, began to laugh. What was stranger still, was that Madame Kingston and the others, found the amusement of the entire situation with her. Before she knew it, they were all doubled over laughing until their sides hurt and they struggled to breathe.

  Chapter 7

  Catherine spent the next few months working at Madame Kingston’s, and the comradery she built with the women there was like nothing she had experienced before. She even rekindled her friendship with Lady Sophia, so much so that the thought of procuring passage to France the week before the Easter holiday made her heart hurt. Catherine did not find herself in any more singular encounters with Lord Desmond, although it wasn’t for want of it. She often caught his eye over the expanse of the table as her father prattled on about some decision that Parliament was close to coming to, or another matter for the men to consider. Catherine found herself tuning those moments out, and focusing her attention either on her food, or on the memory of the kiss she shared with Lord Desmond in the parlor.

  On one such occasion, her father asked her a question and she was so focused on fantasizing how she might have made the moment even more spectacular that she merely murmured, “hmm?” when her father asked her a direct question. They didn’t come often nowadays. He often preferred to make nonsensical talk that didn’t include either one of them, but tonight was different.

  “I asked if you’ve given any consideration to what you might like for a wedding gown? You’ve not bought new gowns in months. I wondered if your eye for the changing fashion has grown blind.”

  “Oh. I haven’t considered it, no.” The look on her father’s face was anything but pleased, but like the callouses on her hands, the thickness of her skin was making his disdain for her easier to roll from her shoulders.

  “I would think you would at least care what you don on that day, Lady Catherine. You’re mother-”

  “My mother would have been ashamed of us both,” she spat. “And she certainly wouldn’t have forced me into a marriage with a man thrice my age to appease the poisoned minds and tongues of the ton.” Catherine stood up, and began walking from the room.

  “Catherine Elizabeth Haddington, you will not speak to me in such a way. I am the Lord Chancellor, and I-”

  “Have forgotten that you are also my father!” Catherine shouted at the man who had become such a stranger to her. “Does that mean nothing to you? Does the family we once had mean nothing? You lock up Mother’s books as easily as you have locked away the memories of her!”

  “You dare-”

  “Of course I dare. You won’t even look at me without seeing her. You forgot about me as quickly as you forgot her!” Catherine felt the tears slip down her cheeks, and she didn’t care that she was making a scene. She was exhausted from working every night, and dining with her father felt like just another chore. She didn’t have the energy anymore. Her father sat down slowly, his face beat red. She wanted to beg him to stand up, see her, and notice how much she needed him in her life, not as the Lord Chancellor, but as her father. She looked at Lord Desmond through her tears, whirled on her heel, and retreated to her room.

  She decided that on this night she would venture to the docks and pay for passage to France. She had waited, she knew, to see if her father would come around. But the longer she waited, the more withdrawn he had become. She couldn’t waste anymore time. She had to act.

  That night when she got ready for work, she found it bittersweet that the women from Madame Kingston’s were the ones she was going to miss the most. Madame Kingston never questioned her motives for work, and she even earned a singular toothy smile from Cook when a drunken sod accidently stumbled into the kitchen one night. Catherine smacked him on the hand with a pan when said hand had started to roam. She then marched him to the backdoor and threw him out into the snow, where he sobered enough to realize his extremities were in danger of freezing off. He never bothered her again, and then Cook’s shouting at her had gone from a dull roar to something like an unbroken stream of nagging gibberish.

  Claire often sought her out in between patrons, and when Cook wasn’t looking, Catherine filled her in on her private fancy of the Lord Desmond. She never did see him back in the house after the first two nights, but she wished she had. He continued to accompany her to the few social outings she couldn’t wiggle her way out of, and last she heard the talk of the ton was that she had become a recluse. She didn’t care what they thought of her though, just so long as they left her alone.

  Catherine found her nights with the women to be filled with laughter. She was happy to have kindred spirits, no matter how different they all were. Catherine was going to miss these women, and Sarah too. Sophia was also a pleasant soul to be around, but she was now expecting, so all they talked about was the heir that would be produced. She was happy for Sophia, she truly was. Even the Viscount had softened, if not a bit mildly, to Catherine. He always gave her a warm greeting then retreated into his own study when she went to call.

  But Catherine knew it had to be now, or she would never end up on a ship bound for France. She tucked all of the monies she had saved for her passage into a little pouch and into her boot. She was hoping she could barter a better price for her passage and thus have some left for room and board when she first arrived in France whilst she looked for a family to apply to be a Governess. She had started saving stores for her journey as well. She kept a sack where she was able to hide away packages of jerky and other items that wouldn’t spoil. With only about a week left until her trip, she supposed she needed to let Madame Kingston and Cook know that the time of her employment was almost up.

  The spring was deceiving. It had warmed for a spell and tricked them all into believing summer would arrive early, but Catherine knew better. She continued to bundle up, whereas some of the women of the house donned their more provocative attire to entice the patrons. It was as if the house was taking turns with who ended up sick. One room had been set aside for the women who were under the weather, and Catherine was tasked with bringing them what resembled soup from Cook. She was praying she herself didn’t fall ill before it was time for her journey, and she pulled her cloak tighter as she made her way down to the docks.

  She began asking around when she stepped onto the wooden planks, asking for a Captain or anyone who might help her, but sailors were a funny lot. Most of them ducked around her and avoided her gaze. She was just ready to give up and try again the next night when she came across a man with a gray beard and a worn cap coiling some rope in front of a smaller three-masted schooner.

  “Excuse me, Sir. I am looking to barter passage to France. Can you help me? Or at least put me right on the path towards someone who can?”

  The man’s voice was gruff, but his face was kind. He was cer
tainly sea-weathered, and Catherine took comfort in that. As treacherous as the sea was, she could count on the fact that he knew what he was doing if he had survived this long. He also didn’t turn away from her when she asked her question, but studied her for a moment. Then he asked, “what’s a high born such as yerself needin’ passage fer, m’Lady? If ye don’t mind me askin’.”

  Catherine answered, “I wish to visit my cousin abroad.”

  “And where’s yer chaperone, m’Lady?”

  “I’ve no chaperone. I’ll be traveling myself on this voyage, Sir. Can you help me?”

  “Mayhaps. But ye ken it isn’t common fer a Lady such as yerself to travel without a chaperone. The men are as skittish as a wee born seal when it comes to havin’ women aboard the ship. They’ll not take well to a woman wi’out a chaperone.”

  “You can assure your men I will keep to my cabin, Sir. I won’t bother anyone.”

  “Hmm. And what have ye to offer fer yer passage?”

  “I’ve some coin. I can pay.” Catherine continued to hold his gaze. She wanted him to make an offer, because she truly had no inkling what it might cost to cross the channel. She figured if she had a starting point, she could counter the price and see if she offended his sensibilities or if he was one to be reasoned with.

  “Well now, how much coin have ye?”

  Catherine was about to answer him when a voice came from behind her. “I hope you mean not to accept coin from an unsolicited source, or unchaperoned lady, Captain Marcham.”

  “M’Lord. Of course not. I was just tellin’ m’Lady we don’t accept such offers.”

  Catherine’s jaw dropped as the Captain turned and began moving away. She whirled around and came face to face with Lord Desmond, who was smiling down at her. It infuriated her that there was such a mischievous twinkle in his eye.