Lady Edith's Lonely Heart: A Regency Romance (Lonely Hearts Series Book 1)

by Audrey Harrison

Ralph didn’t utter a word in retaliation, just watching as the brother and sister walked out of his drawing room. The room was filled with silence until they heard the sound of the carriage wheels crunching on the gravel of the drive. When the sound eventually faded, Lady Pensby spoke.

  “I am too exhausted and upset to request an explanation about all that has gone on, but I shall insist on knowing the full story at a later time.”

  “Are you feeling ill?” Ralph asked, immediately alert to his mother’s needs.

  “For once I wish you would reflect on your own behaviour, rather than focusing on my needs,” Lady Pensby said tartly. “I never thought I’d be ashamed of you, Ralph, but at the moment I’m struggling to defend what I heard. I shall leave you for the time being. I need to be quiet.”

  Ralph was left, his ears stinging from his mother’s rebuke and his heart heavy from the expression on Edith’s face. He’d never felt as lost in his life and it was his own foolish fault.

  *

  For the first few miles, neither brother nor sister spoke. Each was wrapped up in their own thoughts and unwilling to start the conversation which needed to be had. The air was thick with unhappiness and confusion.

  Eventually, Miles broke the silence. “How long have you been corresponding with Pensby?”

  Edith had been angry, but now she just felt weary. She wanted anything rather than to go over the subject of her folly with Miles, but she owed him an explanation. “After I’d cancelled the advertisement, I received one last letter. It seemed to come from someone who was suffering from deep sadness rather than someone intent on a flirtation. He did state that he wasn’t interested in marriage, but of course after the first letter, I persuaded myself that he favoured me and didn’t mean what he’d said.”

  “How many letters have there been?” Miles asked.

  “Not many. Although, enough for me to think I’d found my ideal man,” Edith all but snorted.

  “Did you know it was Pensby?”

  “No. I hoped it was him if I’m being honest, but for a while, I actually thought it was Mr Sage. He signed the letter Mr S, you see. I jumped to conclusions, which were the wrong ones to start with,” Edith admitted.

  Miles frowned for a moment or two. “Swanson. The family name is Swanson, so technically Pensby is Mr S.”

  “I didn’t know that. I suppose I should have done,” Edith said, feeling even more of a fool. “I was so relieved when I discovered it wasn’t Mr Sage. I only found out in the carriage when he was trying to abduct me. I couldn’t understand how his words and actions could be so different. It was such a relief to find out I’d been wrong in my assumptions in that regard at least.”

  “You were so determined to make contact with Pensby the following morning. Had you guessed again about the writer?” Miles asked.

  “He’d sent what was to be his last letter, but some of the clues in it led me to be convinced that it was him who’d written the letters. When it was confirmed that he’d gone out of town, I was sure I had discovered the true writer and had to follow him. You see, I’d been stupid in both respects,” Edith said.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’d fallen in love with the writer of the letters and Lord Pensby. I hoped for them to be the same person, because I didn’t know what I’d do if they weren’t. What I foolishly admitted in the drawing room was true. I’ve been smitten with him for weeks now. That makes me a bigger fool, I know” Edith said darkly.

  “I did warn you away from him,” Miles responded. “I tried to put the thought in your mind that he wouldn’t come up to snuff.”

  “I know. Unfortunately, my head might have listened, but my heart didn’t,” Edith admitted. “I didn’t set out to fall in love with a man who doesn’t want to marry, I can assure you.”

  “No. I suppose not. If it helps, I do think he has feelings for you,” Miles said trying to console Edith.

  “It doesn’t help actually. Especially as I’m travelling away from him at a high speed, having confessed my feelings to him. There is no sound of hooves behind us, trying to stop the carriage and declare he has been mistaken and he can’t live without me after all. Somehow knowing that he liked me doesn’t help with the self-loathing I’m struggling with at the moment,” Edith said tartly.

  “I suppose it wouldn’t,” Miles responded grimly. “I could have swung for him when I realised what he’d done.”

  “That wouldn’t achieve anything. I’m just glad I’d already left London before finding out. This way, at least I don’t have to confess that I’ve been a complete fool to Susan.”

  “What has Miss King got to do with it?” Miles asked.

  “Nothing as such. But as best friends, we confide in each other, so she knows about the letters and my feelings,” Edith admitted.

  “Oh,” Miles responded.

  “I hope you intend to keep this pace going on our journey, brother, because the more distance I can put between myself and Lord Pensby, the better,” Edith said, turning her head away from Miles and blindly looking out of the window.

  She would never forget Ralph’s shocked expression when she’d confessed she loved him, or cease to burn with shame every time she thought about it.

  Chapter 23

  Lady Pensby had eaten in her room and slept for most of the evening. Ralph had checked on her, but she’d been asleep, so he hadn’t disturbed her, leaving her nurse to watch over his mother. Although he knew they would have a conversation about Edith, he was glad to put it off for as long as possible. He’d done everything wrong and the less he thought about it the better.

  A pity then, that he could think of little else.

  Early the following morning, he rode out on his horse, as far away as he could from houses, farms and especially people. He’d always been seen as a more taciturn person, but today if he had the misfortune to meet anyone along his way, they would probably put his main characteristic as downright miserable.

  A virtually sleepless night had done nothing to clear his head and when he’d been fortunate enough to doze off, his dreams had been filled with images of Edith’s disappointed face. It hadn’t led to a refreshing night’s rest, hence his early exploration of his wider parkland.

  Eventually, he couldn’t prolong his return any further, the need to check on his mother greater than his wish to escape. He allowed his horse to head for the stables. The grooms receiving nothing but a nod when they took the reins, decided today was not the day to try and banter with their master and quietly got on with their work.

  Entering the hallway, Ralph discarded his hat and gloves. “Where is my mother?” he asked the butler.

  “In her sitting room,” the butler responded.

  “I shall get changed and visit her there. Please serve tea in half an hour,” Ralph instructed.

  “Yes. m’lud.”

  It wasn’t long before Ralph entered his mother’s sitting room, fixing his cuffs as he walked into the room.

  “Good morning, dearest. Did you sleep well?” he asked, going as he always did to give her a kiss.

  “I slept better than you from the looks of it,” Lady Pensby responded, offering her cheek to her son.

  Ralph grimaced. “I’d hoped the horse ride would hide some of the evidence.”

  “I think the rings under your eyes will take more than that to fade.”

  “Wonderful.”

  Lady Pensby lapsed into silence, watching Ralph. They hadn’t spoken by the time the tea tray was brought in. Ralph busied himself with dealing with the tea, prolonging the need for the dreaded conversation to start.

  When he’d handed his mother a cup he sat on the seat next to her. He couldn’t face any tea himself at that moment. “I’m sorry you had to witness what you did.”

  “I’m sorry my son inflicted such pain on a young woman who didn’t deserve it,” Lady Pensby said quietly.

  “You’ve always been able to get right to the crux of the matter haven’t you?” Ralph replied, leaning forward
and rubbing his hands over his face. “Would it help to know that I honestly didn’t mean to hurt her?”

  “I’ve already given you credit for that,” Lady Pensby admitted.

  “Unfortunately, that doesn’t make me feel any better.”

  “Did you not suspect how she felt about you? Surely there must have been signs?”

  “Certainly not after our first meeting,” Ralph said. “We argued.”

  “Always a good start to a romance,” Lady Pensby smiled slightly.

  “Afterwards, there was some attraction between us, yes, I think so,” Ralph said. “We certainly sought each other out. And how could anyone blame me? She’s witty, considerate, welcoming and beautiful. She takes my breath away she’s so beguiling.”

  “She doesn’t consider herself so,” Lady Pensby said. “She confessed it here and it wasn’t false modesty. I genuinely think she doesn’t see herself to be anything out of the ordinary.”

  Ralph had looked at his mother in disbelief, but then shook his head. “It’s just like her. To be fair though, I don’t think her family see her as such either. In a conversation before I was reacquainted with her, Miles expressed his concern that she was already on the shelf. He said that she had little to offer a man anything other than her fortune. I thought he was being harsh, but when I met her, I was convinced he was a fool.”

  “Why did you start writing to her?”

  “Ah, that’s the difficult part,” Ralph started. “I don’t really know.”

  “Was it to confess feelings that you couldn’t declare face to face?”

  “In a way, I suppose, but they weren’t feelings of love, before you accuse me of that. It was other issues,” Ralph answered.

  “The pressures you have day-to-day with a life that isn’t how you’d choose it to be?” Lady Pensby said gently, resting her hand on her son’s arm when he stiffened and looked at her alarmingly. “I’m your mother. I’ve known and watched you almost every day of your life. Of course I know some of the struggles you so admirably try to keep from everyone.”

  “I like my life as it is,” Ralph defended himself.

  “But it could be better.”

  “When you are well, or stable, then life will be better. That will be more than enough to make me content.”

  “Oh, my dear boy. It isn’t how you should be spending your life,” Lady Pensby said sadly.

  “I’m with you. I want nothing else.”

  “I thought you never lied to me.”

  “I’m not,” Ralph flushed.

  Lady Pensby laughed. “You are a poor liar. Now, I have a few things I want to make clear.”

  “I don’t like the sound of this.”

  “Probably not, but I’ve tried to say it before and you’ve ignored me. This time you’d better listen,” Lady Pensby warned.

  “Go on.” Ralph resigned himself to a lecture, the substance of which he wasn’t going to agree with.

  “Unless you go after that girl and persuade her to marry you, I’m going to take myself off to the asylum,” Lady Pensby said firmly.

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort!” Ralph exploded.

  “Oh, yes I will. If my staying here is going to prevent you living your life as it should, then I would willingly, yes willingly, admit myself to that place.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Do you want to test me, Ralph? Really?” Lady Pensby asked.

  Ralph stood and walked across the room to stand at the fireplace. He got hold of the brass poker and took his initial frustration out on the carefully stacked logs of the fire. When he’d contented himself by sending sparks flying up the chimney and caused the logs to hiss due to their rough treatment, he hung the poker back on its stand.

  “It’s not as simple as you think,” he said, turning to his mother.

  “I’m dying to find out why not.”

  “I refuse to upset your health by you moving to the Dower House and being away from all that is familiar and safe,” Ralph admitted. “Nothing or no one is worth that disruption and the consequences it could cause.”

  “You do realise how close the Dower House is to the main building, don’t you?” Lady Pensby asked with an amused smile.

  “It’s not just about the location. It’s about the staff, the routine, and the accommodation,” Ralph answered gruffly.

  “Those all can be overcome. Easily,” Lady Pensby insisted. “And I have to admit moving to the house, which was always going to be my home eventually, is far preferable than the asylum.”

  “I suppose that’s something,” came the sarcastic reply. “Remaining under this roof is even better.”

  “I don’t think it is,” Lady Pensby said gently. “I’ve worried about whether or not you were being noble when you’d never married. To discover that is exactly what you’re trying to be, convinces me even more that there needs to be some separation between our lives.”

  “No! I want to spend as much time with you as I can. I accept that you should do more than you have been doing. I realise you weren’t living a full life, but to change completely that would be too much. I can’t risk losing you. I can’t,” Ralph said desperately.

  “Come here, my foolish boy,” his mother said, holding out her hands to her son. Ralph went across and crouched on the floor in front of her. He rested his head on her lap as he’d done when a young boy. She stroked his hair gently. “I want to spend time with you, but the thing I want most in the world is to see you settled and happy. Whether or not I had this illness, I could die today, tomorrow, or in ten years’ time. No one knows. Just as we didn’t know when your father would die.”

  “I don’t want to do anything to risk extra strain on you. A wife and children would do that,” Ralph said quietly.

  “I lived with you as a child.”

  “But we had a quiet life.”

  “Yes, we did. That was only because I was afraid to leave you whilst you were so young. I don’t know if it actually did me any good or not, for the attacks still happened. Now though, I will have peace in the Dower House when I need it. I will visit, or you and your gaggle of children, for I can see you with many, can visit me when I feel up to it. You’ll be able to make as much noise as you like when you’re here in the main house. Just how a family home should be. This house needs life, Ralph. It has been silent too long.”

  Ralph closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. “The picture you paint, sounds so idyllic, so reachable.”

  “That’s because it is.”

  “Yet I’ve managed to hurt the only person I could create that home with.”

  “Look at me,” Lady Pensby commanded. Ralph sat up, his face clasped in his mother’s hands as she looked deep into his eyes. “If she truly loves you, which I think she does, she will forgive you eventually. You’ll just have to find a way of convincing her that you’re worth the second chance.”

  “That’s all I need to do?” Ralph said with a small smile.

  “I’m not saying it will be easy but I’m sure you’ll come up with some scheme to persuade her.”

  “Her brother won’t let me within fifty miles of her,” Ralph said grimly.

  “Well, she fell in love with you through the written word once, you’ll just have to make her do it again,” came the firm response.

  Chapter 24

  Edith’s hair streamed behind her as her horse leapt over the five-foot fence. She heard the concerned cry from her groom, but ignored it, encouraging her horse to gallop away from the gate as soon as its hooves had touched the ground. Tearing across the field she crouched low over the beast’s neck and urged it to jump the hedge.

  She whooped, as once more she was airborne, unrestrained and free. A stumble as the front hooves hit the ground made her pull on the reins to bring her favourite steed to a stop.

  “Whoa, fella,” she said, coming to a standstill.

  Swinging herself off the horse, she checked his legs and was dismayed to find his front left leg was sensitive to her touch.


  “Oh, you poor boy,” she murmured as she stroked the panting beast’s muzzle. “Was it a jump too far? We’ll get you back home the slow way.”

  Starting to lead the animal home, her groom was finally able to catch up to her. “You rode him too hard, Lady Edith.”

  “I know. You don’t need to curse me, I’m ashamed I’ve hurt him. Miles will be furious,” Edith admitted.

  “You’re trying higher hedges every day. The master will string me up if you take a tumble,” the groom admitted.

  “He won’t put any of the blame on you,” Edith assured him. “Even he struggles to keep me on the gentler obstacles.”

  They walked back to Barrowfoot House slowly, so as not to cause further harm to the horse. When they arrived back at the stables, Edith wouldn’t leave until the injured leg had been checked by the head groom. He’d shaken his head at Edith in a way that transported her back to her youth, when he would curse her for being reckless with the animals in her need for speed.

  Eventually, Edith returned to the house, immediately going upstairs to change. She was too late for lunch, so requested some bread, ham and cheese in the drawing room. Fifteen minutes later, she finally sat down to a warming drink and some sustenance.

  She’d only just finished her light meal when Miles burst into the room. Looking up, she braced herself for the inevitable scolding.

  “If you’re determined to ride neck or nothing over every hedge on the land, be good enough to do it without hurting an innocent beast. He’ll be out of action for days, if not longer,” Miles snarled.

  “I know. I could’ve cursed myself to the devil, I assure you,” Edith admitted. “I shouldn’t have done the two in quick succession.”

  “You shouldn’t have done either,” Miles snapped. “Don’t think your addle-brained riding doesn’t get reported back.”

  Edith scowled. “Is there to be no freedom?”

  “Not when you’re causing injury to something who doesn’t have a say in the matter,” Miles said firmly. “I don’t know where this crazed death wish has come from, although I can guess, but it has to stop.”