The Returned Lords of Grosvenor Square: A Regency Romance Boxset

by Rose Pearson

  “I do not need your help!”

  Before he could prevent himself, Stephen struck out, hard, against the Colonel. His fist connected with Colonel Fitchley’s cheekbone, throwing the man back hard. Colonel Fitchley stumbled backwards, and as he was unable to keep his balance with both the shock and the force of the blow, he fell, with a crash to the floor.

  Stephen stared in abject horror at what he had just done. He had disgraced himself utterly. He had struck his commanding officer and, in doing so, had brought no end of shame upon himself.

  Silence reigned.

  As Stephen watched, Colonel Fitchley slowly picked himself up from the floor, his face a dark red on one side. His eyes were blazing with anger but, to Stephen’s astonishment, he saw a small, grim smile spread across the Colonel’s face.

  “Sir?”

  There came a knock at the door and Stephen cringed at the sound of another man’s voice, knowing that the shame of his actions could no longer be hidden.

  “Come in,” Colonel Fitchley called, and immediately, two younger officers strode into the room. Their eyes landed first on Stephen before traveling towards the Colonel. Stephen saw the shock on both their faces and knew that his utter disgrace was inevitable.

  “Carrington is to be placed under guard and arrangements are to be made for his return to England,” Colonel Fitchley stated, not even glancing towards Stephen. “Two men will accompany him at all times until he returns to his estate. Do I make myself clear?”

  The two soldiers nodded, their faces set in severe expressions. One sent a sidelong glance towards Stephen, who closed his eyes and hung his head. He had gone much too far. He had allowed his anger and frustration to overtake him and now, it seemed, he was to pay the price for his stupidity.

  “At once,” Colonel Fitchley barked, making the two soldiers jump to attention. “Take Carrington to his room and have him pack his things. Thereafter, he is to be kept under guard until all arrangements are settled. I would have him gone from this place within the sennight.”

  The two soldiers murmured their understanding and came towards Stephen, who did not so much as attempt to flee from them.

  “In time, you will see that this was for your own good,” Colonel Fitchley stated, as Stephen was led from the room. “And I should think that there will be no more need for brandy or the like, Carrington, at least not until you reach England.”

  Stephen wanted to apologize, wanted to open his mouth and tell the Colonel that he was truly sorry for what he had done, but he could not find the words. Shame was burning all through him, his face downcast as he was led away. There was no going back to the army now. It seemed as though, despite what he wished, he would have to face his demons back on England’s shores.

  Chapter Two

  It had been several weeks now since Jenny had first arrived at Prestwick house. She had not gathered her skirts about her and hurried away from the house as the children had predicted, nor has she given up on them both as Mrs. Blaine had thought. Instead, despite the ongoing difficulties she faced with them both and the struggle to simply maintain order within the house, Jenny was beginning to find that she was growing steadily more determined to do whatever she could in order to secure the children’s happiness. She wanted to discover what it was that made them treat both herself and the staff in such a despicable manner, and she wanted to find out the truth of what they felt within their own hearts, no matter how long it would take. She could not explain what made her feel such a way nor have intentions such as those, other than to realize that there was still so much grief and pain within their hearts over the loss of their mother, even if they did not want to reveal it to her. She could see it within them at times. Sometimes, it was only for a moment, but it was there, nonetheless.

  “You must be tired today.”

  Jenny let out a long breath and gave Mrs. Blaine a rueful smile. “They have been particularly trying this morning,” she agreed, accepting the cup of tea from the housekeeper with a grateful smile. “We shall, in the future, have to make sure that Mary is forbidden from taking anything from the kitchens.” She tried to laugh, but the only sound that came out was a strangled exclamation that did not sound mirthful in the least.

  “I don’t know how you manage it, Miss Edgington,” Mrs. Blaine said, shaking her head as she came to stand next to Jenny and watch both children as they ran wildly around the gardens. “Mary tried to attack you with that knife!”

  Jenny winced and closed her eyes, trying to take in a steady breath. She had not wanted to reveal to anyone just how shaken she had been by the incident, but the truth was that she had been quite overwhelmed. To see Mary rush towards her with a small knife flashing in her hand had been truly terrifying. Yes, the girl had been easy enough to restrain with the help of one of the footmen, and yes, the knife had easily been plucked from her hands and then returned to the kitchens, but still, the incident had shaken Jenny more than she wanted to admit.

  “And that boy….” Mrs. Blaine ended her sentence with a long sigh, shaking her head to herself. Jenny could not help but sympathize, knowing full well what Mrs. Blaine meant.

  It was more than apparent that John despised Jenny’s presence here in Prestwick house. He made his feelings quite clear, for he would often insult and demean Jenny, and would never allow her to draw close to him in any way. Whenever she asked him something, even if it was the simplest of questions, he would refuse to answer her and would, instead, mock her mercilessly. Jenny had quickly learned to let his words roll off her without letting them affect her, realizing that all of John’s cruelty and harshness came from a place of pain.

  Unfortunately, when she had told him this fact, explaining that she knew full well that John was not talking about the grief that he felt over the loss of his mother, but that by doing so would allow his heart to mend, he had grown so angry that he had rushed from the house. The staff had been alerted to his disappearance at once and so, a search of the grounds had taken place. When it had become apparent that he was not present within the grounds, Jenny had felt herself grow sick with fear – until a footman mentioned that the young boy had sometimes ridden to the nearby small town of Prestwick – although he had not seen him do so for some time.

  John had been found there, safe and sound, although his pockets had been full of other people’s effects. He had been pick-pocketing, it seemed. Even now, just at the thought of it, Jenny felt her heart sink to her toes. To learn that he had been stealing in such a manner had been deeply troubling for her, fearing that John was going to turn into some sort of delinquent unless she did something to help him.

  Unfortunately, she had not yet learned what it was she could do in order to bring him some relief, to help him express his heart and release the pain and sorrow within. It was an unenviable task, but as yet, she had not given up trying to do so.

  “What they must have suffered,” Jenny murmured aloud, drawing Mrs. Blaine’s attention. “I cannot imagine it.”

  Mrs. Blaine shook her head. “You have more compassion than I do, that’s for certain,” she said, bluntly. “I know they must have suffered dreadfully, what with the loss of their mother and then being sent away by their father, but I can’t see past what it is they’re doing now.” Her lined face grew heavy with either regret or frustration, Jenny could not quite work out which. “The way they treat you – the way they treat all of us – well, it’s more than I think I can bear.”

  “And yet we must continue to endure,” Jenny replied, softly, her heart filling with grief all over again as she remembered her own trials. “I know what it is like to be filled with such pain that you do not think you can so much as raise your head from the pillow.” Her voice broke and her eyes began to burn with tears, but with an effort, she continued to speak, looking out at the two children instead of at Mrs. Blaine. “As a full-grown woman, I have dealt with anger, with sorrow and with the grief of losing those dear to me. For a child to lose their mother, and then, instead of receiving the c
omfort of their father’s arms, be sent away to England to a home they do not know, must be truly difficult. They are so young, and instead of allowing their anger and sorrow to be free, which they must do in order to begin to heal from their pain, they have held it within themselves. Seeing others suffer and behaving cruelly towards those who try to help them is simply what they feel they must do in order to cope with all that they feel inside.” She sighed and rubbed at her forehead, blinking back her tears with an effort. “They are mistaken, of course, but they cannot see that yet. In time, I hope that they will do so.”

  There was silence for a few minutes. Mrs. Blaine said nothing but looked out at the children again, her expression rather thoughtful. Jenny used the silence to help herself regain her composure, her mind tugging away from the painful memories of the past so that she might return to her current predicament.

  “I can understand what you mean,” Mrs. Blaine murmured, eventually, her eyes still fixed on the children. “I must try to remember what you’ve said the next time one of them gets into the flour and throws it all around the kitchen.” The wry note in her voice made Jenny smile, pushing back the last of her tears.

  “Might I ask whom you lost, Miss Edgington?”

  Jenny swallowed the ache in her throat and lifted her chin just a little in an attempt to remain quite stoic about the matter. “My parents were killed during a fire that took place eighteen months ago,” she replied, a stab of pain rifling through her heart as she spoke of that dreadful event. “They were gone for a short respite to a relative’s home and the fire took over the house as they slept. I lost my parents and my uncle in one day.”

  A gentle hand touched her arm, but Jenny could not look across at Mrs. Blaine for fear that she would break down into tears.

  “Goodness,” Mrs. Blaine murmured, sounding deeply sorrowful. “That must be a difficult burden to bear, Miss Edgington.”

  “It can be,” she admitted, glad that she had not let a single tear fall. “I loved my parents dearly but, as I have said, I needed to find a new situation in order to support myself. Their house – my home – now contains new tenants who can make better use of the house and the small grounds that are with it, and I have decided to stay here as long as I can.”

  Mrs. Blaine laughed softly. “So, you must remain here regardless of how difficult you find it, Miss Edgington,” she said, making Jenny smile in spite of the anguish in her soul. “The children will not be able to chase you away since you have nowhere else to return.”

  “That is precisely it,” Jenny replied, good-naturedly, her lips curving into a small smile as Mrs. Blaine let go of her arm. “But, I suppose I am also inclined towards helping them with their grief since I am all too aware of what that feels like and what it can do to one’s heart.”

  “Then I am sure that, in time, the children will be grateful for your presence and your determination to remain,” Mrs. Blaine said, practically. “You will be joining us for dinner this evening, I hope?”

  Jenny, who had found herself invited below stairs to dine with the staff, even though she was not meant to due to her rank as a governess, nodded eagerly. A solidarity had grown between the staff and herself, and so, in that way, it had seemed quite natural to dine with them all instead of eating her meals alone.

  “Very good,” Mrs. Blaine said, with a small sigh. “I’d best get on.”

  “And I should take them inside for their schooling,” Jenny replied, decisively, determined to, at the very least, attempt to teach the children something. They had been so unruly the last few days that she had been quite unable to do anything more than simply contain them.

  “I wish you luck,” Mrs. Blaine murmured, with another rueful smile. “They won’t want to come indoors, not on a day like this.”

  “And yet they must,” Jenny replied, leaving Mrs. Blaine’s company and stepping out into the cool spring air. The day was fine, but it was still early spring, which meant that there was a chilliness to the air that made Jenny shiver. The children were red-cheeked and, to her eyes, appeared quite happy with their antics, and she found herself wondering if it would be best to leave them to do so instead of insisting that they come inside. Hesitating, she paused for a moment and let her mind consider all matters, her eyes lingering on John who was looking at her with a small smile etched onto his youthful face.

  “Ouch!”

  Her arm began to burn like fire as Jenny jerked away from the source of the pain. Turning quickly, she realized that it was Mary, who was now grinning at her as though this was something she ought to find rather funny.

  “What did you do, Mary?” Jenny protested, pulling up the sleeve of her gown and staring, horrified, at the marks of Mary’s teeth that now appeared to be embedded in her skin. “Why did you bite me?” The child had appeared out of nowhere as Jenny had been thinking about what she was to do, and with no provocation whatsoever, had bitten Jenny, hard. A small spot of blood appeared at one end of the mark, making Jenny realize that Mary had broken the skin. She would need to wash her wound at once.

  John began laughing, and Jenny, frustrated and sore, turned away from her charges and hurried back towards the house. Catching a footman’s attention, she begged him to watch John and Mary until she returned, hastily making her way below stairs so that she might wash the wound.

  “Are you quite certain, Mr. Thomas?”

  Mrs. Blaine was staring wide-eyed at the butler as Jenny entered the kitchens, her color a little pale.

  “Quite certain, Mrs. Blaine,” Mr. Thomas replied, clearing his throat. “Ah, Miss Edgington. It seems that we are to have the master back at this estate very soon.”

  Jenny, who was beginning to wash her arm and wincing at the sting, turned her head to look at the butler. It took a moment or two for the words to sink into her mind, but once she realized what it was he had said, she felt her heart quicken with a sudden fright.

  “What are we to do?” Mrs. Blaine wailed, wringing her hands. “If he has been discharged, then –”

  “Discharged?” Jenny interrupted, surprised. “I thought he was in the army.”

  “They are sending him home,” Mr. Thomas replied, heavily. “This note states that we are to expect him back at the estate within the month since he has been discharged of his duties.”

  A flicker of doubt rose in Jenny’s mind. What would the Duke of Carrington’s demeanor be like? Would he too be lost in sorrow and pain, unable to consider others in any way as his children did? Would he be glad to have returned?

  “If he has been discharged, then does that mean that he is coming home willingly?” she asked, suddenly caught by a sudden thought. “Or is it that he has been sent home due to….” She trailed off, not wanting to suggest that the Duke had been thrown from the army ranks due to his own foolish behavior.

  “The latter, most likely, Miss Edgington,” Mr. Thomas said, with a shake of his head. “I think we must all begin to prepare ourselves for a significant change.”

  Mrs. Blaine was wringing her hands, her eyes a little wider than before as she looked at Jenny. “What sort of change, Mr. Thomas?” she asked, looking back at him and leaving Jenny with a deep, unsettling feeling. “Change for the better, do you think?”

  There came a moment or two of silence as the butler considered the question. Jenny felt her nerves growing taunt, her anxiety beginning to rise within her.

  “I think that, whilst we find our current situation particularly difficult, Mrs. Blaine,” the butler began, slowly, “we must begin to prepare ourselves for the fact that things may become even more trying. The master may be struggling in his own way and we must do all we can to support him.”

  Mrs. Blaine let out a long, soft groan, turning her head away as her shoulders slumped. It was not what she’d wanted to hear and, as Jenny considered this also, she felt her own heart grow weary with the thought that there might be even more difficulty waiting for them when the master returned.

  “We must do what we can, I suppose,” sh
e said, looking down at her arm and the marks left behind by Mary. “And mayhap we will all be pleasantly surprised.” She looked up at the butler and the housekeeper again, trying to put a smile on her face but failing entirely. “It may be that the children improve with the return of their father. It may yet become a happy household.”

  From the looks on Mr. Thomas and Mrs. Blaine’s faces, Jenny knew that they felt no such hope – and, if she were she honest with herself, then neither did she. Instead, she felt nothing but a steadily growing anxiety over the Duke’s return.

  Chapter Three

  To be strong-armed onto a boat was one thing, but to be told that he was to have no more brandy was quite another. Stephen glared at the man who had kept the brandy from him – one of the two men from the army who were to remain at his side at all times.

  “We are just coming into shore, Your Grace,” the second man said, coming towards him. “Are you able to stand?”

  “I am more than able to stand,” Stephen retorted, his words blurring together as he attempted to rise from his bunk, only to find that the boat rose up in a great swell and practically knocked him off his feet. He fell back into his bunk, closing his eyes in pain as his head hit the wall.

  “The waves are still quite ridiculous,” he stated, pushing himself up into a sitting position with an effort. “I thought you said we were coming into shore.” His bleary eyes narrowed as he looked at the two men who shared a glance with each other.

  “There are no waves at the present, Lord Carrington,” the first man said, with what sounded like a very heavy sigh. “You have, again, drunk a little too much, it seems.”

  “I have not.”

  Stephen felt his anger flare and he attempted to point one long finger in the direction of the first man, as though he had been gravely insulted by the suggestion that he was not of sound mind.