Regency Engagements Box Set

by Charlotte Fitzwilliam

  There was a stunned silence, broken only by her father clearing his throat. Giving Sophie a slight shake, he unlocked Juliette’s door and ushered her inside, making her stand by her mother, far away from Juliette.

  “Now,” he said firmly, holding one hand out to either of them. “Someone tell me what is going on. Sophie, I have never seen you behave like this before in my life! I knew you had to return home from the ball early, but I thought that was due to a headache.”

  “I did not have the chance to tell you otherwise,” Sophie’s mother interrupted, putting one hand on Sophie’s shoulder. “Although I confess I am none the wiser as to what Juliette has done, Sophie. I did not have much time to talk to your sister.”

  “Why not ask her?” Sophie grated, her gaze fixed on Juliette, who was trying her best to regain some of her composure. “Ask her what she did while you were in the card room, Papa. Ask her who she lured out to the gardens.”

  “Oh, Juliette,” her mother whispered, her hand tightening on Sophie’s shoulder. “You did not. Tell me you did not!”

  “I did what I had to do,” Juliette spat, running one hand down her marked cheek. “I am to marry first, not Sophie. I told her all gentlemen could have their heads turned, and I simply proved it.”

  Blood roared in Sophie’s ears as the recollection of what she had seen hit her right in the stomach. She started towards her sister again, only to be held back by her mother, who was staring at Juliette in horror.

  “You took Lord Crawford out to the gardens?” came the whispered question from their mother. “Juliette, what did you do?”

  “She kissed him!” Sophie shouted, seeing the way her father paled. “She pushed herself into his arms and—”

  “And he did not refuse me,” Juliette interrupted, her eyes flashing. “You are nothing compared to me, Sophie. I have proved that to you. You shall not succeed when I am around.”

  “How dare you,” her mother whispered, her eyes fixed on Juliette. “I have spoken to you about this time and again, Juliette, but I never, ever thought that you would stoop as low as this.”

  “I do not know what to do about this,” their father replied, his face stern. “Juliette, you have stepped wholly outside the bounds of propriety, and I tell you now, I will not have it.” He gestured towards Sophie, who, much to her frustration, was beginning to cry. “How you could do this to your own sister, I cannot understand.”

  “She is the one you ought to be speaking to!” Juliette shrieked, her face contorted with anger. “She tried to have Lord Crawford for herself. She tried to make him fall in love with her when it is I who should marry first! She has no right.”

  “She has every right!” the marquess thundered, making Juliette’s quail under his anger. “You are the one who has set yourself up above her, Juliette! I have never once decreed that Sophie should wait until you marry, but yet you have decided that this was how things should be! I should make you marry Lord Crawford, but for Sophie’s sake, I will do no such thing.”

  “I cannot be here any longer,” Sophie whispered, looking up at her mother. “I wrote to Victor and expect his answer tomorrow. I am leaving.”

  Her mother’s eyes widened in shock. “No, Sophie! You cannot leave.”

  “I must,” Sophie replied, her anger draining away to reveal her brokenness. “I cannot stay here where I might see Lord Crawford again and where I am surrounded by Juliette’s presence. I intend to leave as soon as his reply is received. I pray you will not stop me.”

  Her father walked towards her, his eyes dark with grief and pain. “I should have stepped in sooner, but I never once thought such a thing would happen,” he said quietly. “Do what you must, Sophie.” Turning to face his eldest daughter, he drew back his shoulders and held up one hand to silence the flurry of words coming from her mouth.

  “You are to remain in your room,” he said firmly, ignoring Juliette’s wail of protest. “I am utterly ashamed of you, Juliette. You will not be attending any kind of social event until I decide what to do with you. Your life is going to be much altered, of that, I can assure you.”

  “But Papa, please!”

  He shook his head, putting one hand on Sophie’s shoulder. “You have caused great pain, Juliette. Not just to Sophie, but to your mother and to myself. Such behavior will not go unnoticed and unpunished. I am deeply disappointed in you.”

  It was some hours before Sophie was finally able to return to her room. Juliette, of course, had cried and wailed and hammered on her bedroom door the moment her father had turned the key in the bedchamber door lock, but his decision was final. For that, Sophie was a little grateful, for it meant that her father was, at the very least, taking her sister’s behavior seriously. Her mother had held Sophie for a long time, clearly distraught over all that had occurred, and even more upset to discover that Sophie intended to leave London, but she had not said a word against her decision. When Sophie had retired to her room, she had left her mother quietly sobbing, the marquess’s arm around her shoulders. It was true what her father had said – Juliette had caused a great deal of harm.

  Sophie did not want to upset her mother further by insisting on leaving London, but she knew she could not remain in town. Her sister would be much too close, and she did not want Lord Crawford to seek her out.

  Dressed in her night things, Sophie sat down at her writing desk in the corner of her bedchamber, and by the light of a flickering candle, she wrote a short note to Lord Crawford.

  “Lord Crawford,” she wrote, her hand trembling as it held the quill. “I write to tell you that I have quit the town. Be not mistaken in understanding my reasons for doing so – I have discovered that my sister is quite right in suggesting that a gentleman’s heart is rather fickle and easily swayed. Your words and promises are now crumbled to dust, and I am committed to thinking of you no longer.”

  Her last sentence, of course, was nothing more than a lie for Sophie was quite sure she would not be able to forget him as easily or as quickly as she hoped. The man had torn her heart to pieces, yet he still held the ripped fragments within his hands. To leave London would mean to leave the whole sorry affair behind, and that, at least, gave her a little hope that she might soon be able to forget him entirely.

  However, as Sophie lay her head on her pillow, tears began to trickle softly down her cheeks and into the fabric. It seemed that she would not quickly heal from such a deep wound. It would remain with her for some time, no matter where she resided. And the truth remained that she was not sure which of the two had injured her more – the man who had promised so much to her, or her own sister, her own flesh and blood, who had seen her as nothing more than a rival.

  6

  “Ah, Huntington!”

  Leonard, the Earl of Huntington, grinned as he came out of his carriage, delighted to see his dear friend.

  “How very good to see you,” he said, shaking hand firmly. “You are very good to invite me, especially after you are only just wed!”

  “And been on honeymoon,” Lord Swannell quipped, gesturing to the top of the stone steps where his wife stood. “But after I heard of your ordeal, I thought it best to invite you at once.”

  At the mention of what he had been through, Leonard felt his smile slip. “Indeed,” he murmured, glancing away from his friend for a moment. “It will be a welcome relief, I assure you.”

  Lord Swannell nodded, his expression sympathetic. “My wife does know of it, I am afraid. I had to tell her. I do hope you understand.”

  “But of course,” Leonard replied with a slight shrug. “Now do introduce me to her. I have been looking forward to meeting the lady who has brought my dear friend so much joy.”

  Climbing the steps, he saw the lady in question smile down at them both. She had a warm, welcoming expression and greeted him with such evident delight that Leonard felt accepted almost at once.

  “And you are to stay for as long as you wish,” she said, as soon as Victor had introduced one to the other. “I ab
solutely insist upon it.”

  “You are very kind, my lady,” he said with a short bow. “I will confess that it is a relief to know I can remain here until the storm has passed.”

  Her eyes softened. “Was it very bad?” she asked, putting her arm through Victor’s. “Was there a lot of talk?”

  “A very great deal,” Leonard replied honestly. “After all, it is not all that common for a betrothed lady to steal away with another on the eve of her wedding day!” His words rang with bitterness, his heart still squeezing with pain. “And since then, I have discovered that they were on their way to Scotland, to join hands over the anvil.”

  “Goodness,” Victor exclaimed, frowning deeply. “That is something of a scandal! No wonder you wished to get away.”

  Leonard tried to smile, seeing the flash of frustration on Lady Swannell’s face as she poked her elbow into her husband’s side. He shrugged, not minding Victor’s bluntness. It was one of the character traits he rather appreciated.

  “Let me show you up to your room,” Victor muttered, looking a little abashed. “I am sure you will want to rest after such a long journey.”

  “I shall see you at dinner, Lord Huntington,” Lady Swannell replied with a smile. “Again, I am so glad you have come to join us.”

  “Just Huntington, if you please,” Leonard replied with a brief smile. “I already consider you a dear friend, given just how much happiness you have brought Victor.”

  “Then I shall be Catherine,” she replied without a moment’s hesitation. “For whoever is a close friend of my husband’s must also be a friend to me.”

  Leonard bowed quickly and followed Lord Swannell up the large staircase, finding solace in the familiarity of the estate. He had been here before, on many occasions, since their friendship was one of long standing. Indeed, they had become friends in their early days at Eton and had remained so ever since.

  “Here we are,” Victor said, gesturing to a large oak door. “Your usual room, complete with your favorite tipple.” He grinned as Leonard chuckled, making to open the door.

  “One other thing I should mention,” Victor continued hastily, “is that my sister Sophie is coming to join us. In fact, she should be here late this evening.”

  Frowning, Leonard tried to recall her face. “I have met her once or twice before, I think.”

  “Most likely, yes,” Victor agreed, with a shrug. “I had thought she was meant to be in London searching for a suitor, but something seems to have gone wrong. I received a rather hastily written note only this morning and sent one back at once. I am not quite sure what has happened, but she made it very clear she intended to leave as soon as she received my reply. I do hope that will not spoil your visit.”

  “Not in the least,” Leonard replied, with a broad smile. “Thank you, Victor. I shall see you at dinner.”

  The room was just as he remembered it. It was large and welcoming, with a writing desk in one corner and a large dressing room adjoining it. Leonard chuckled, as he saw the brandy sitting on the table close to the fire. Victor had clearly gone to great lengths to ensure he felt right at home.

  Poking his head into the dressing room, which had its own fireplace, Victor smiled as he saw a large, steaming bath waiting for him. Victor had never ensured such a thing was waiting for him before now, so he presumed this was Lady Swannell’s doing. He appreciated the thought, dismissing his valet, who appeared silently by his side, and choosing to undress and relax alone.

  The water was the perfect temperature, and sitting down carefully, Leonard felt his tense body begin to relax. Riding on horseback for a great many hours had brought its own aches and pains, and the bath was just the thing to relieve them.

  “So, a sister,” he mumbled to himself, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “I must have met her before, but I simply cannot recall her.” Whatever it was Miss Sophie had experienced, Leonard was determined not to involve himself. He would be courteous, of course, but he had enough problems of his own without allowing himself to become tangled in the difficulties of others. Besides, from what Victor had said, the girl was young enough and had probably only had her heart broken by a less-than-attentive young gentleman. She would be quite well again soon enough and, most likely, would return to town to find herself a worthier gentleman, whereas he would remain here, trying to grow used to his sudden change in circumstances.

  Polly Martins had seemed to be the most wonderful of creatures. She was beautiful, with a sweet nature and good temperament, which made it vastly easy for him to fall head over heels in love with her. She had declared herself as much in love with him as he was, and her gentle kisses had seemed to prove as much. When he had proposed, she had accepted with such delight that four weeks had seemed much too long to wait. But yet, that had been the required time for the banns to be called, and as he had waited impatiently for their wedding day to draw ever closer, he had fully believed that Polly was doing much the same. He had not seen as much of her, but she had told him that was only because she was so caught up with all that was planned for their wedding.

  And, like a fool, he had believed her.

  The night before their wedding, her parents had thrown a huge celebration. It had been the most wonderful of balls, with delights aplenty. Leonard had laughed and smiled and felt as though he were a king, such was the happiness in his heart. Come the morrow, he had told himself, he would have everything he had ever wished for.

  Only for him to be pulled back down to earth with a rather painful jolt. A hastily scribbled note the following morning was presented to him when he was still abed. With bleary eyes, he had read it, discovering that his love, Polly, had quit her parents’ house after the ball.

  Her maid, it seemed, had been privy to the whole thing—although Polly had sworn her to silence. After much cajoling, it had been discovered that Polly had taken up with one Lord Hughes, who had been a previous suitor. Her parents had liked the gentleman, and for a time, it had appeared as though there would be an engagement, but it had been Polly herself who had brought their association to a swift end. She had not believed him worthy of her, but apparently, she had never forgotten her feelings for the man.

  And so, Leonard had been left high and dry. With his head held high and his heartbreaking asunder in his chest, he had made his way to the church and informed the guests that there would be no wedding that day. The wedding breakfast was forgotten, the celebrations muted. All that was left was despair.

  Soon after, the gossipmongers had already begun their work. Everywhere Leonard went, the whispers came after him. Even when the whispers began to decry him as the reason for Polly’s lack of devotion, he could come up with no defense. His grief had been too tumultuous, too torturous, for him to consider saying anything in reply.

  Blackness had covered him, both inside and out. He had done nothing but sit at home, too heartsick to venture out of doors and hear nothing but rumors about himself and Polly. Life had become nothing but a series of awakenings, for he had taken to his bed and remained there for many days. With no family to speak of, he had no one to turn to, for his parents had both long been in their graves.

  Then the invitation from Victor Swannell had brought a spark of life back to his world.

  Victor, who had just returned from honeymoon, had heard about the sad affair and had offered him a prolonged visit at his estate. Leonard had accepted within the hour, finally rising from his bed in order to organize his things – evidently to the relief of his staff! To leave his home and reside with Victor for a time was a freedom he had long been waiting for, a freedom that brought a spark of happiness back into his world. Returning here was like drawing in a long breath of fresh, cool air, his blood beginning to course through his veins once more.

  Sinking down into the hot water, Leonard let a small smile settle on his face, thinking to himself that he had not felt this way for a long time. He did not have the worry of what would follow him, should he step outside. He did not need to think about ho
w best to avoid the gossip mongers, or how to miss the whispers that would chase after him. Here, he had the time to try and begin to mend the tears in his heart, try to wash away the pain of Polly’s betrayal.

  Not that he intended to ever fall in love again, for he had already been made a fool by it once.

  No, when he sealed up his heart this time, it would be for good. At some point, he would have to marry to produce the heir, but that would be a woman of his choosing, one who would be entirely suitable and who would make no demands on either his time or his heart. He would produce the heir and the spare and then live his life entirely separately from his wife, which, he presumed, most married ladies of the ton would be more than happy with.

  So long as he made such things clear to the lady before they wed, she would have no expectations of him to ever truly come to care for her. Nor would he ever expect her to care for him! As far as he was concerned, matters of the heart only complicated things and made for rather too much pain and suffering should they go awry.

  Love was for fools, and he was not about to be such a thing again.

  7

  “Victor!”

  Sophie threw herself into her brother’s arms, tears beginning to trickle down her cheeks almost at once.

  “Goodness me, Sophie!” he exclaimed, hugging her tightly. “Whatever has happened? You are quite distraught.”

  Sophie could not answer for a long moment, her heart squeezing painfully in her chest as her brother hugged her tightly.

  “Something is very wrong, is it not?” he said softly. “My dear, sweet sister, come inside. Catherine is waiting for you.”

  Sophie nodded, taking her brother’s proffered handkerchief and wiping her eyes quickly before following him up the stairs.

  “Sophie, how good to see you,” Catherine said at once, hurrying forward to take Sophie’s cold hands. “You look entirely worn out.”