The Returned Lords of Grosvenor Square: A Regency Romance Boxset

by Rose Pearson

  “Good gracious!”

  A startled voice broke the otherwise quiet stables and, without so much as looking up, Stephen knew precisely whom it belonged to.

  “Miss Edgington,” he muttered, his voice rasping as he remained seated. “Good morning.”

  There came nothing but silence to his greeting, making Stephen cringe, awash with mortification at having been found so.

  “I am going riding,” he lied, as though this was the explanation for him sitting in the stables, in one of the vacant stalls, surrounded by straw. “Is it a fine morning?” Screwing up his eyes, he looked up towards Miss Edgington and immediately regretted doing so. Her hands were planted firmly on her hips, her lips were pulled into a thin line, and her eyes were fixed upon his, holding such disapproval that he knew she did not even need to say a word to communicate how she felt about his current behavior.

  “It is a fine afternoon, Your Grace,” Miss Edgington stated, arching one brow in his direction as he realized his mistake. “The staff have been looking for you, I might add, and there is a good deal of concern over your wellbeing. I, myself, planned to go out riding in an attempt to discover where you might have gone but it seems that the search is no longer required.” She sniffed, disdainfully, and looked away. “Not that I have any intention of giving up my opportunity to ride, however. Now that you are quite secure and appear to be in no particular danger, I shall take the chance to ride across the estate regardless.” Her eyes flicked to his and then away again. “Do excuse me, Your Grace. I must inform the staff that you are found.”

  He wanted to protest, wanted to call her back and state that she need not do so, for fear that his shame and embarrassment would grow all the more steadily once his staff knew of his whereabouts. But, his voice did not do as he had expected and he found only a soft moan escaping from him. The burden of his guilt weighed heavily on his mind, knowing that, yet again, he had disgraced himself in front of Miss Edgington.

  It was not the first time since he had arrived back at his estate that he had done so – that, he well knew. He had, of course, made a somewhat lewd suggestion the first time they had been properly introduced. Thereafter, having endured her scathing tongue and sharp retorts about his behavior and his propriety, had thought that he might attempt to make amends by asking her to join him for dinner. However, the thoughts of his wife and how they had used to sit together to dine had rubbed at the edges of his mind, until he had been able to think of nothing else. Miss Edgington had become just another way to remember Martha. He had wanted her to tell him everything she recalled of Lady Carrington, even though he had known, deep within himself, that to do such a thing would only tear at his heart all the more.

  Miss Edgington had become aware of his intention rather quickly, however. When she had attempted to quit the room, refusing to do as he had asked, he had become rather forceful and certainly incredibly demanding. The flicker of fear in her eyes had startled him but had not prevented him from insisting that she do as he requested. However, Miss Edgington had more fire within her than that, and so had simply strode from the room, his warnings hanging over her head like a cloud. She had not given him any more heed, nor considered his warnings to be of any particular concern. It was as though she knew that he could never remove her from his estate.

  That was the worst of it, Stephen considered, hanging onto the edge of the stall as he hauled himself up, glad that his head did not scream in agony as he did so. Miss Edgington could never be sent from his house. Not when his children appeared to be so dependent on her, and certainly not when she had enough mettle to remain in his employ despite his behavior and his questionable propriety. No other young lady might do so. The butler had, on one occasion, made mention that the children had been ‘rather difficult’ when Miss Edgington had first appeared, as though to make Stephen aware that they could not do without her and that he would never be able to find someone akin to Miss Edgington’s abilities again.

  “Your Grace!”

  One of the stable hands appeared, framed in the doorway of the stables, his eyes wide as he stared at Stephen.

  “I do apologize,” he stammered, as Stephen let go of the stall and attempted to stand straight. “I didn’t know you were here.”

  “It is quite all right,” Stephen replied, with as much pomp as he could muster, even though he was quite certain that there was straw sticking out of his hair and his clothes were dirty. “I shall return inside at once. Please, go about your duties.” He gave a dismissive wave of his arm and attempted to walk from the stall without stumbling, his cheeks growing a deep shade of red as he realized just how much would be said about him amongst his staff.

  “Oh.”

  He turned before he left the stables, eyeing the stable hand with a sharp eye. “Is Miss Edgington to go out riding?”

  “I am preparing a mare for her, yes, Your Grace,” the stable hand replied, no longer looking at Stephen but keeping his eyes fixed to the ground. “She enjoys a short ride whenever she has an afternoon free.”

  Stephen nodded slowly, an idea forming in his mind. If he could change quickly and drink a few cups of coffee, he might then be able to ride out after Miss Edgington and have a conversation with her. One which she could not easily escape from. “Then have my stallion prepared also,” he said, firmly, aware of the weakness in his limbs and knowing that he needed to eat something before he was ready to ride. “I shall return in around half an hour. Have him ready by then.”

  The stable hand, ready as ever to do his master’s bidding, bowed and did not lift his head until Stephen had turned away. Stephen, aware that his staff would know by now that he had been discovered, made his way back to the house with slow, careful steps, not wanting to wobble or stumble as he did so. The staff would, most likely, be watching him from the windows and he did not want to bring himself any further embarrassment.

  One hour later and Stephen was finally prepared and ready to mount his stallion. It had taken a little longer than he had intended to bathe, change and curb his rumbling stomach, which meant that, most likely, Miss Edgington was already considering returning back to the estate from her ride. Regardless, Stephen was determined to try and speak to her. Yes, he could summon her to his study and insist that they have a conversation, but that would only lead to a formal exchange, devoid of emotion, which would bring him no relief. He had to speak to her plainly, in the hope that she would see in his expression a true regret for what he had done to make her residence in his home so particularly uncomfortable.

  Besides which, he reasoned, throwing his leg over the saddle and pulling himself upright, he had always enjoyed riding although it had been some time since he had done so simply for the pleasure of it. The afternoon was fine, although evening would soon be drawing in. And as such, Stephen was determined to relish it. Yes, his head was still rather painful but he was not about to let it stop him from riding out.

  The wind tugged at his clothes as he spurred the horse into a gallop. The vast grounds of his estate opened themselves up to him and, for the first time since he had arrived home, Stephen felt a smidge of pleasure growing in his heart. A tiny feeling of contentment rose within him as he continued to let his stallion run with abandon, not caring whither they went but simply allowing him his head. The sense of freedom began to envelop him completely, bringing him a spurt of joy that he could not easily resist.

  And then, he saw her.

  Miss Edgington was riding her mare slowly beside the large lake that lay to the left of his manor house. She was gazing down upon it as though she might see something wonderful emerge from within, her face lit with a gentle smile. It was such a beautiful picture that Stephen felt unwilling to break it, even though he knew that his reason for riding out was simply to speak to her.

  Unfortunately, before he had a chance to decide whether to continue on or turn away from her, Miss Edgington looked up. Her smile faded away at once, ice growing in her eyes as she watched him draw near. Stephen swallowed hard
, aware that there was a deep divide between them and fully aware that he was entirely responsible for it.

  “Miss Edgington.”

  His voice was harder than he had intended it to be and, from the look in Miss Edgington’s eyes, she did not much care for his manner.

  “I thought to join you,” he said, lamely, not quite certain what else to say. “That is, if you would not mind.”

  Miss Edgington lifted her chin. “Is this to be a choice presented to me, Your Grace, or am I to agree simply because you wish it?” It was, of course, a reference to what had passed before, when he had demanded that she tell him all she remembered of his late wife. Stephen felt the painful sting of her rebuke strike at him as if she had slapped him hard across the face.

  “You have a choice, of course, Miss Edgington,” he stated, coolly, trying not to show her that her words had bitten at him. “Although, if you would permit me, I would attempt to apologize to you for some of my…. behavior towards you of late.”

  Miss Edgington’s expression did not change. Nor did she move. Instead, she simply looked back at him steadily, as though she were trying to work out whether or not she could believe his words.

  “I know I have been rather improper at times,” Stephen continued when it became clear that she was not going to answer him. “I cannot tell you precisely what it is that I must apologize for, but –”

  “Then there is no need for us to speak further, Your Grace,” Miss Edgington interrupted, her disdain immediately apparent. “If you cannot recall, then what good is it to apologize?” She clicked to her horse and began to ride away, turning her back on him as she had done before.

  Stephen drew in a sharp breath, aware of the anger that was coursing through him as she did so. No other member of his household staff would dare do such a thing and yet Miss Edgington did so without even a moment of consideration. It was as though she were weary of his pitiful words of contrition and had decided that they were not even worth listening to any longer.

  Not that he could blame her, he reasoned, turning his horse and spurring it on to catch Miss Edgington. Even though he had told her she had a choice as to whether or not she rode with him, Stephen found that he could not prevent himself from hurrying after her, suddenly desperate for her to hear what he had to say.

  “I will apologize specifically for what I can recall,” he called after her, seeing her turn her head to look at him. “If that will satisfy you?”

  She rolled her eyes and looked away, her chin held high as she continued to ride. “I care nothing for your apologies, Lord Carrington,” she replied, her voice carried away by the wind that chased itself between them. “For if your words are simply that – words – then what difference will it have on your behavior?” She turned her head again, her eyes flashing. “I would see a change of behavior as evidence of your sorrow over recent…. interactions.”

  Flushing with both anger and embarrassment, Stephen caught up with her horse, riding alongside her and looking directly into her face. Miss Edgington’s light green eyes looked back into his, a few curls of fair hair brushing at her temples in the breeze. Had it not been for the sharpness of her gaze and the thin line of her mouth, he might think her reasonably pretty.

  “I spoke improperly,” he said reluctantly, knowing that he had to be honest with both her and his own heart even though it pained him to be truthful. “I demanded that you tell me what you recalled of my wife, and it was obvious to me that you did not wish to do so.”

  Miss Edgington looked away. “I will not add to your suffering, Your Grace. Nor will I be treated with such disregard.”

  “Disregard?”

  She looked back at him swiftly. “Indeed,” she replied, arching her brow. “If you were truly interested in my family and the difficulties that have come my way of late, then I would be glad of your concern and your compassion. However, if you only seek to ask me such things in order to further your own knowledge of your late wife, then that shows me no concern whatsoever now, does it?” She looked at him steadily, her gaze holding tight to his. “You must stop yourself from living solely in the past, Your Grace.” Once again, Stephen felt shame creep over him.

  Stephen noticed the softness to her words and the way her gaze had gentled, but he felt nothing but sharp anger rising in him.

  “You know nothing of the pain that I feel,” he retorted, his hackles rising. “How dare you tell me what I ought to do?”

  Miss Edgington did not flinch, nor did she look away from him. “I can see what it is doing to your children, as well as to your own heart, Your Grace,” she stated, unequivocally. “They long for your company and for your presence. Yet you insist on keeping your distance from them. You prefer to wrap yourself up in memories, of dreams and hopes long past, instead of looking to the present and to the wonderful gift you have in both John and Mary.”

  His anger burned all the hotter, his jaw working furiously as he fought his desire to lash out verbally at her. His hands tightened on the reins, his whole body rigid with tension. “You know nothing of the pain I feel!”

  To his surprise, Miss Edgington let out a small, sad laugh. “If that is what you believe, Lord Carrington, then I know for certain that you have never once taken an interest in what my life has been like thus far. Your questions about my family meant nothing to you other than what you might glean of Lady Carrington. No, Your Grace, I may not know the loss of one’s marriage partner, but I do know what it is like to lose those you love dearly.”

  His anger began to ebb away as the very first strains of his familiar shame began to creep into his mind. What was Miss Edgington talking about? What had he forgotten?

  “You do not recall, so I will not remind you,” Miss Edgington finished, sadly, eyeing him with something like deep sorrow and regret. “Good afternoon, Your Grace. If you do not mind, I shall finish this ride alone.”

  He wanted to call out to her, wanted to stop her and state that, yes, he did remember what it was she had endured, but his mind would not give him the answers he sought. Again, shame branded itself across his chest, giving rise to both frustration and anger. Why could he not remember what it was she had said of her family? And why did it now mean so much for him to be able to remember it?

  Chapter Nine

  The day was a fine one and Jenny had enjoyed a quiet luncheon whilst the children were taken care of by one of the maids. They were eating in a separate room from her own so that she simply might relax for a short time and recover herself somewhat after what had been an arduous morning.

  It had been almost a week since she had last been in Lord Carrington’s company. Almost a week since she had told him, quite plainly, that the way he appeared to disregard his children so easily was having something of a damaging effect on them. She had seen the way Mary looked after her father whenever he passed them in the hallway. She had noticed how John struggled to fall asleep these last few nights, so caught up with thoughts of his father and the emptiness that seemed to be between them. There was a struggle in both of those children’s hearts and it was one that Jenny knew she could not bring any particular relief to. It had to be the Duke’s responsibility and, as yet, it appeared that he was not about to take her advice.

  A sigh escaped from her lips as she set down her tea cup, having drained it completely. The Duke had avoided her completely these last few days, although whether that was due to his desire to avoid her sharp tongue, or because he was thinking on what she had said, Jenny did not know. She had barely seen even a glimpse of him, although the whispers amongst the staff were that the master had, at the very least, managed to prevent himself from being discovered in a drunken stupor in the stables – or in anywhere else, for that matter. It seemed that he was now keeping himself contained within his rooms each evening and, as such, the staff had not had to concern themselves with seeking him out, for fear of where he might have disappeared to.

  Another heavy sigh came from her as Jenny rose to her feet and wandered to her window,
looking out across the estate gardens. As much as she was disinclined towards the Duke, as much as his behavior angered her and as often as he had insulted her by making somewhat lewd suggestions, she had to confess that there was a growing compassion for him deep within her heart. She recognized that, whilst he seemed to insist upon keeping his mind and heart in the past, he was truly struggling with the loss of Martha. He must have cared for her a great deal, she considered, leaning on the window sill so as to look a little more closely at the gardens that lay before her, taking in their beauty and allowing the sight of it to soften her heart. The Duke was a troubled man but he did not help himself in any way by refusing to relegate his memories to the past and focus his eyes to the future. Yes, Jenny had to admit she had been sharp-tongued and spoke her mind freely. But she believed the Duke required such a forceful honesty in order to halt his desperate longings to return to the past.

  Closing her eyes, Jenny let out a long breath and tried to focus her mind on something other than the Duke. He had been in her thoughts recently, she knew, but that was simply because of how they had last left matters. He had not recalled the death of her parents, it seemed, despite the fact that she had told him of it. And that had pained her more than she had expected. He had not called out after her and had not sought her out in order to apologize and admit that yes, he knew that it was her parents who had been so tragically killed. This left her with the belief that the Duke did not give her even a moment’s thought. Although why that should trouble her so when she was just the governess and nothing more, she had very little understanding.