He shook his head, his hands now clasped behind his back. “I wish to explain why I said such a thing,” he replied, his gaze on the carpet. “I spoke to your brother – or rather, your brother spoke to me – and he made me realize that I was utterly, utterly foolish in saying those things.”
Hope flared in Sophie’s heart, and she clasped her hands together, wondering what it was he had to say. “Then I shall listen, Huntington.”
“I thank you,” he replied, taking a seat across from her. “When I said that to love another was foolishness, it was not I who was speaking, but the anger I carried. I let it get the better of me, and so I reacted in a harsh and unthinking way, saying things that I do not mean.”
Sophie swallowed the lump in her throat, a joyful sensation enveloping her.
“I will tell you the truth now, Sophie, and that is that I care for you, very much. In fact, I believe that I am beginning to love you and that feeling rather terrifies me.” He managed to meet her gaze and give a small, rather self-conscious smile. “That is embarrassing enough to admit, but I believe I owe you the truth,” he continued, his voice a little hoarse. “When Polly ran from me, she left me with a near-fatal blow upon my heart, but it has been a wound you have been able to heal.”
“Oh, Huntington,” Sophie replied, wishing for all the world that she might throw her arms around him. “Do you not understand that I struggle as much as you? That I am feeling as though I ought not to care for you as I do because to do so would be more than foolish. And yet I know that you are not the same man as Lord Crawford. I know that you would never treat me as he did.”
Huntington dropped his head into his hands for a moment, his voice muffled as it reached her ears. “You see me in the way I should have seen you,” he replied sadly. “I thought I should not feel for you what I did, for I wanted to believe that you and Polly were alike.”
“Alike?” Sophie repeated, feeling rather insulted. “You compare me to Polly?”
“In my anger, I did,” he answered truthfully, looking up at her. “It was your brother who forced me to see what I was doing, what I was deliberately pushing away. I know that you are devoted to those you care about, that your heart is tender and honest and true.”
“I do not care for Lord Crawford any longer, not in the least bit,” Sophie reassured him. She wondered if he thought that should Lord Crawford suddenly reappear, she would immediately discard Huntington and return to her first gentleman as Polly had done. “That was not love, I do not think. It was an affection, yes, but he was never true to me. He was never vulnerable, never as open as we are with one another.” Her voice softened as she got to her feet, coming over to him and holding out her hand. “That is a more intimate connection, is it not?”
Huntington looked up at her, his expression dark. “It is, but I am not worthy of it.”
She shook her head, reaching forward to take his hand instead of waiting for him to take her outstretched one. “You are being much too hard on yourself, Huntington. I can understand the anger and the frustration that led you to speak that way,” she said softly. “Can you not forgive yourself? This is not something that you need torment yourself with, Huntington.”
His hand tightened on hers, and slowly, carefully, he got to his feet with only a hairsbreadth separating them. Sophie felt her heart begin to pound, almost overcome by just how close he stood to her. His eyes were fixed on her own, emotions flickering across his face—one after the other. She saw his regret, saw his shame, and she knew that he truly meant all that he said. He had not intended to harm her; he had not intended to push her away. There had been more going on under the surface, which she finally understood.
“Your compassion and understanding only adds to my admiration for you,” he said quietly. “My dear Sophie, can you truly forgive me the harsh things I said?”
Her heart burst with happiness, her hands now held by both of his. “How can I not when you have given me so much?” she asked softly. “You have seen the depths of my pain and sought to ease it. You have taken my sorrow and shown me how to begin to forget it. My heart has lost the anguish and sadness it once had, and in its place, it has filled with you. I have hidden it even from myself, frightened as to what it might mean, and yet it could no longer be pushed away. I have never before felt this way, Huntington. My heart is open to you and you alone.”
He bent his head and kissed her, his mouth soft and sweet. Sophie held him tightly, feeling his arms going around her waist so that there was no space between them.
“My dear Sophie,” he whispered against her mouth, his breath tickling her cheek. “You will allow me to court you, will you not? I do not wish to be separated from you, not after all we have shared. In fact, I do not think I can bear it.”
Sophie laughed softly, thinking that she did not want to ever have to leave him. “Nor I,” she replied, pressing one hand against his heart. “I love you, Huntington.”
“And I love you, my dear Sophie,” he whispered, before leaning in to kiss her once more.
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About the Author
Charlotte Fitzwilliam was raised in Manchester, England and graduated from University in London with a Masters of English, which focused on 18th Century and Romantic Studies. Her passion since young adulthood was reading and writing romantic regency stories.
Charlotte feels like she is living a dream life as she often brings coffee or tea to the country side. She sits beneath a tree with her laptop to dream and write about proud dukes and ladies in long dresses falling in love.
Lords, Love and Stolen Kisses by Charlotte Fitzwilliam
A Lady Angelica Landerbelt Mystery
Regency Engagements
Regency Romance - Clean and Wholesome
Charlotte Fitzwilliam
Eliza Heaton
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
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Thank You!
About the Author
Prologue
Lady Angelica Landerbelt sighed as she looked back at her reflection in the mirror. It was not that she was somehow discontent, but rather that she was very much displeased as to what this Season, unfortunately, presented.
“You look quite lovely, my lady.”
Angelica turned to her lady’s maid and gave her a wry smile. “I thank you,” she said kindly, always being sure to speak to her staff with consideration. “But I fear that my appearance at present will only encourage Lord Redmond.” She sighed again, but her lady’s maid said nothing in response, stealing away to wait for Lady Landerbelt’s dismissal.
“Do not wait for me to return this evening,” Angelica continued, turning around to walk towards the door, aware that the carriage was already waiting for her. “I will, no doubt, be out for a good part of this evening.”
“May I wish you a very pleasant evening, my lady,” the maid replied, bobbing a quick curtsy as Angelica passed her and walked out towards the door. Angelica made no reply, wincing inwardly as she continued on her way towards the carriage. She felt no joy, no sense of excitement or the like, which was rathe
r unusual given that she had always enjoyed previous Seasons. Being a wealthy widow, the freedom she had was something she adored, but this year felt a little tarnished already, given Lord Redmond’s persistent attentions. It felt as though he had already determined that they were to wed, and thus, he had done all he could to ensure that she was more than aware of him.
Sitting down in the carriage, Angelica reached up and rapped on the roof, her sense of growing disaster looming over her head. She would, at some point soon, have to make very clear to Lord Redmond that she was not at all interested in his attentions, even though, over the last fortnight, she had been as cold and as icy towards him as she could! It had appeared to make very little difference indeed, which perhaps suggested that she would have to be much firmer with him than before. Viscount Redmond was certainly attentive, but his inclination to gamble, his loud and obnoxious manner, and his lack of willingness to even listen to her when she spoke to him – on almost any subject – made Angelica less than inclined to think well of him.
“Then you must speak to him firmly and with decisiveness,” she told herself, as the carriage door was pulled open and she stepped outside, taking the hand of the waiting footman in order to help her down the steps. Lifting her chin and telling herself that she was going to enjoy this Season, Angelica picked up her skirts and hurried inside.
It was worse than she had thought. Lord Redmond had been by her side in a moment, having evidently been waiting for her, and had attempted to put his name on her dance card. She had done her very best to refuse him politely, but had then been forced to be much more vehement in her words, stating that whilst she might choose to dance this evening, it would certainly not be with him.
Lord Redmond’s eyes had gleamed, and he had chuckled, as though thinking that this was some sort of challenge rather than accepting the stark truth that Lady Landerbelt did not want to engage with him. Angelica had been required to practically shake him off, rounding on him with narrowed eyes and stating that she did not intend nor wish to converse with him for the rest of the evening.
Lord Redmond had only nodded and laughed, looking away with an easy smile on his face and stating calmly that he had no intention of giving up and that she ought to know by now that he always managed to gain whatever it was he wanted.
“Well, you shall not have me!” she had stated, her chin lifted and her cheeks ablaze with color, as she had walked straight past him, her head high and yet a deep anger filling her completely. Now, she walked out of the ballroom and along the hallway, her fists clenched and her eyes blazing with fury. How dare Lord Redmond speak to her so? She did not belong to him – and certainly had no intention of belonging to him in the future! And yet, he was so very persistent and determined, speaking to her as if she would, one day, give in to what he wished — simply because he was well used to getting what he desired.
“He shall not have me,” she said triumphantly, her voice echoing down the hallway as she turned to push open a door that was a little ajar, wondering if she might take a few minutes to quieten her anger before returning to the ballroom.
Upon entering, however, Angelica heard a hurried exclamation and then a small gasp. Her eyes searched the room, widening in surprise as she saw a gentleman standing directly in front of a young lady, who had immediately turned her face away.
Heat rose up her spine, but it was not the sort to make her blush. Instead, she felt herself grow angry all over again – angry that this gentleman had sought out this young lady and brought her here in an attempt to gain whatever affection from her he could, and angry with the young lady for allowing him to do so!
“Please,” the gentleman said, inclining his head. “I did not…” He trailed off, turning his head back towards the young lady before stepping away. “Do excuse me.”
Angelica arched her eyebrow as the gentleman, his voice low and grating, bowed quickly and then hurried from the room, shutting the door tightly behind him. It could not be that now he expected Angelica to deal with the young lady, could it? Or was he running away in the hope that she would not cry out aloud to the rest of the beau monde so that he would be forced to marry this creature?
“I do not know what foolishness has entered your head of late,” Angelica said briskly, as the young lady kept her face turned away, “but unless you wish to marry this gentleman, you will cease this ridiculous behavior at once!” She let her voice carry around the room, sharp and angry. She did not know this young lady, of course, but there was still a good deal of emotion in all that she said, knowing the consequences that could have followed for her, should she have been discovered by another. “Why ever would you come to this small room with a gentleman when you know very well what might happen to your reputation? Unless it is that you hoped someone would discover you, forcing him to propose?” Her eyes narrowed as a small sob escaped from the young lady. “Was that your purpose?”
The young lady’s shoulders shook, but Angelica felt no sympathy. Better to speak harshly now than allow her to continue on her foolish way without further considerations. Angelica took in the girl’s auburn hair, the slender if not rather slight form, and felt her anger begin to fade. A small spiral of fear settled in her heart, chasing away her frustrations. What if this young lady was crying from genuine fright rather than from guilt?
“Come now,” Angelica murmured, a little more gently as she approached the lady. “Nothing more will be said, I assure you.”
That had the girl’s head lifting quickly, her eyes red rimmed and swimming with tears. “You will not tell my mother?”
Angelica shook her head slowly, her gaze fixed on the young lady as she took her in. There was softness to the girl’s appearance, but there was also vulnerability there. A vulnerability that could be easily manipulated by others. A small, red scar ran across the lady’s cheek, from just underneath the middle of her eye drawing across her face towards her ear. Angelica said nothing about this, thinking silently to herself that it did not detract from the lady’s beauty in any way whatsoever, but wondering if the lady herself considered that to be true.
“Lord Musgrave can be very eager in his attentions,” the lady whispered, her shoulders shaking as Angelica took her hand and led her to sit down in a chair, grateful for the many candles and small fire in the room that helped illuminate the lady’s features. “I believed that my mother was here waiting for me, only to discover that…” She trailed off, swallowing hard and looking away from Angelica. “It was foolish to believe that my mother was here, I know, but I did not think clearly at the time. I thought she might have fainted and been taken in here to recover.” Large green eyes lifted to Angelica’s. “She faints very often, you see.”
Angelica said nothing, nodding slowly but silently thinking to herself that ladies who were prone to fainting were, very often, seeking to keep the attention of others solely fixed on them. She gave the young lady a small smile, feeling a little guilty over how harshly she had spoken.
“I am very grateful to you for your help,” the young lady continued, with another small sniff. “I could not escape him. I could not get away from him, and no matter how much I tried to do so, he would not allow me to.” A shudder ran through her frame, and Angelica tightened her hand on the lady’s cold one. “I believe he did not think that anyone would interrupt him; he did not think that he would be discovered.” The young lady closed her eyes as another tremor shook her frame. “If you had not come into the room, then I cannot imagine what would have occurred.”
Angelica shook her head, feeling a little angry once more as she thought of the gentlemen of her acquaintance. Why was it that so many felt as though they were somehow entitled to the attentions of a lady? Why did they believe that they could simply expect the lady of their choosing to be glad of their interest? She shook her head, thinking of Lord Redmond again and finding her anger beginning to burn all the hotter.
“Forgive me,” the lady said suddenly. “I realize I do not know your name.” She flushed, but Angeli
ca merely smiled.
“There is no need for apology,” she said, warmly. “I am glad that I was able to help chase Lord Musgrave from your company.” Clearing her throat gently, she let go of the young lady’s hand. “I am Lady Angelica Landerbelt. I am very glad to meet you.”
The young lady’s eyes flared, perhaps aware of who Angelica was and the reputation that had slowly begun to follow her. Angelica said nothing more, merely smiling gently and waiting for the young lady to return her introductions.
“I-I am very glad to meet you,” the young lady said softly, stammering just a little. “I believe you were a great help to one of my friends, Lady Landerbelt. Miss Andrea Truwin? Although, now of course, she is Lady Bastien.”
Angelica smiled at the thought of the lady she had come to consider a friend. “Yes, indeed,” she answered, somewhat joyously. “I was very glad to have assisted where I could.” She gestured towards the young lady. “Although you, as yet, have still kept your name from me.”
The young lady flushed crimson and shook her head. “Forgive me,” she said, clearly embarrassed. “I am a little overcome.” She lifted her head and tried to smile. “I am Miss Ivy Burton. My father is Viscount Bainbridge.”
Angelica nodded, not feeling any tug of recognition over either of those names. “Then it is my pleasure to meet you, Miss Burton. I do hope that we might begin a friendship of sorts.” She smiled, although her gaze became somewhat rueful. “After all, you and I now share the very same difficulty as each other.”
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