Regency Engagements Box Set

by Charlotte Fitzwilliam

  “That would be suitable,” she told him, as Lady Landerbelt nodded in agreement. “Until tomorrow evening then, Lord Sutcliffe.”

  He said nothing more but tipped his hat, inclined his head, and then walked along his way, leaving Ivy and Lady Landerbelt to continue along the path themselves. They walked in silence for a few minutes, each taken with their own thoughts and their own considerations as to what had just occurred.

  “That was a wise suggestion, Miss Burton,” Lady Landerbelt told her faintly when they arrived back at their carriage. “I think it very astute indeed not to accept Lord Sutcliffe’s request to call upon you without further meetings in social occasions beforehand.” She frowned and glanced at Ivy. “Although I confess, I do not believe he can be trusted.” Her gaze held steadily onto Ivy’s, but Ivy only laughed.

  “You cannot think that I would accept him simply because he is handsome and charming,” Ivy said with a smile. “I have learned from you, Lady Landerbelt, even in our very short acquaintance, that gentlemen can present a façade if they so choose. Particularly one who is used to drawing ladies in to whatever schemes they please.” Her smile faded and a small shiver began to run down her back. “Given that we are now introduced, I shall have no other choice but to converse and dance with him, as I have agreed, but aside from that, I am not obliged nor do I intend to do anything more.”

  Lady Landerbelt considered this for a moment or two, then lifted one shoulder. “You do not believe that any of what he said was true then?” she asked, as Ivy frowned. “That you are the only lady who has refused to be introduced to him, and thus, he cannot help but find you intriguing?”

  Ivy hesitated before she answered, thinking quickly. “I am less than inclined to believe anything that he says without question,” she answered. “I may very well be quite cynical, but as I have stated, I am here in the hope of securing a husband and do not expect that a rake will be the gentleman that might one day offer me his hand.” She laughed, and Lady Landerbelt chuckled, her eyes brightening. “That would be a foolish thought indeed, would it not?”

  “I suppose it would be, yes,” Lady Landerbelt agreed with a small shrug. “Very well then, Miss Burton. I am convinced that you have a good understanding of the gentleman already.” Her expression dulled for a moment, her eyes becoming a little concerned. “Although let us see what this ball will bring. Lord Sutcliffe states that he has every intent of dancing with you...” Her gaze darted towards Ivy and then over her shoulder towards the retreating figure of Lord Sutcliffe. “Let us see if he manages to keep his word.”

  The ball was a very jolly one indeed, Ivy considered, as she danced with Lord Winchester, who was, for the most part, a very good dancer. He had not trodden on her toes nor held her too closely or too tightly. He was a very amiable gentleman by all accounts, and Ivy did wonder if she ought to consider him should he ask to call on her.

  That is, of course, if he does even think to do so, she thought a little ruefully, as the music came to a close. This was only her second ball with Lady Landerbelt present, and she had already been introduced to a good many gentlemen, although none, as yet, had sought her for a second dance or the like.

  “A wonderful dance, I thank you,” Lord Winchester said, bowing low over her hand before turning to lead her from the floor. “And you did quite marvelously, Miss Burton.”

  She smiled at him, her heart lifting just a little. “I thank you, Lord Winchester,” she said, as he brought her back to Lady Landerbelt, who was busy in conversation with another. “You are very kind to say so.”

  Lord Winchester turned towards her, his forehead puckering as he frowned.

  “You are quite lovely, Miss Burton,” he said, tilting his head to look at her. “Indeed, I am sure you would garner a good deal of attention from the gentlemen of the beau monde and even from me, if it were not for that…that…mark upon your face.”

  Ivy stared at him, her happiness receding almost immediately, which was soon followed by a deep flush of embarrassment as she dropped her head, tears springing to her eyes.

  “How did you come by such a thing?” Lord Winchester continued, as though they were talking about some trifling matter. “It is a little unbecoming and does quite spoil what is otherwise a very pleasing face.”

  Tears were burning in her eyes now as she lifted her face towards Lord Winchester, her good impression of him shattered in a moment. She did not know what to say in response, finding his lack of compassion and consideration towards her to be both hurtful and unintentionally cruel.

  “Lord Winchester, are you truly so inconsiderate?”

  Ivy could not bring herself to lift her gaze towards whoever was now speaking, finding that if she fixed her eyes on Lord Winchester’s shoulder and took in long, steadying breaths, she was slowly beginning to have a hold on her emotions.

  “What is the matter with you?” the other gentleman said, one hand reaching out to give Lord Winchester’s shoulder a small shove. “Should you like me to begin pointing out all your imperfections in a loud voice, bringing attention to everything that you might be less than pleased with?”

  Hearing Lord Winchester begin to bluster, Ivy finally managed to wrench her gaze away from him and found herself looking straight into the eyes of Lord Sutcliffe.

  Her stomach dropped.

  “Should you, perhaps, like me to discuss the fact that your hair has begun to recede?” Lord Sutcliffe continued, turning his eyes back to Lord Winchester, who was slowly going a shade of crimson. “Or that the—?”

  “No, indeed, I should not,” Lord Winchester interrupted, before Lord Sutcliffe could say more. “Indeed, Lord Sutcliffe, you have made your point quite thoroughly, I assure you.” Clearing his throat, he bowed towards Ivy, who did not either move nor speak, feeling quite shaken and still deeply upset. “Forgive me, Miss Burton. That was…thoughtless of me.”

  Lord Sutcliffe said nothing but waited until Lord Winchester had turned on his heel and left, leaving Ivy to stand beside Lord Sutcliffe being quite uncertain as to what she ought to say.

  “I am sorry,” Lord Sutcliffe murmured, looking down at her with evident compassion in his eyes. “Lord Winchester was, as he said, utterly thoughtless. I apologize for interjecting, for I am quite certain that you could have thrust a sharp remark or two back at him yourself, but I could not help but say something.”

  “I-I am grateful to you,” she answered, her voice quiet and rather shaky. “I did not expect him to even mention such a thing.” Closing her eyes, she forced the rest of her tears back and took in a long breath. “I am well aware that my scar is not the perfection gentlemen seek, and yet…” She lifted one shoulder in a small, sorrowful shrug. “I cannot help it. It was not my doing, and yet I must bear the consequences of it for the rest of my days.”

  “I am sorry for that also,” Lord Sutcliffe murmured, surprising her with his gentleness towards her. “But Lord Winchester should not say that it spoils your features, Miss Burton. You are quite lovely.” He reached out and caught her hand, pressing her fingers for just a moment. “Truly.”

  She swallowed hard, feeling a fresh bout of tears hurrying towards her eyes. “Thank you, Lord Sutcliffe,” she said, a little surprised at his generous words. “You are very kind and have lifted my spirits a good deal.”

  He let go of her hand and the flood of warmth that had come with his touch now immediately left her again.

  “I am glad to hear it,” he said, quietly. “Now, might I be permitted to see your dance card, Miss Burton? I do hope there is at least one which you will grant me to take as my own.”

  A small, sad smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “There is more than one,” she told him, a little despondently. “You may choose whichever you wish, Lord Sutcliffe.”

  “And if I wish for both the country dance and the waltz?”

  She looked up at him sharply, knowing that the waltz was the most intimate of dances and could often hold a great deal of meaning should a gentleman continue to r
equest it of a lady. Her heart battled within her, reminding her that he was nothing more than a rake, telling her to recall all that Lady Landerbelt had said of him, only for her to think on what he had just done in coming to her defense and in saving her from what had been a very awkward and difficult situation. Ought she to accept?

  “I will not harm you, Miss Burton,” Lord Sutcliffe said gently, his hand poised over the dance card, ready to write down his name as he held the small pencil that was attached to the dance card by a silk pink ribbon. “I only wish to dance with you, that is all. I shall not haul you into the shadows nor drag you out of doors.”

  For whatever reason – and it was quite inexplicable to Ivy – such words did not send her recoiling away from him but rather left her with a sudden shudder of anticipation and excitement, as if that was precisely what she wanted from him.

  “I would be glad for you to take both of those dances,” she told him, seeing how he smiled, his eyes aglow and her own heart filling with a sense of contentment. “I thank you, Lord Sutcliffe.”

  “I thank you for your consideration,” he answered, giving her back the pencil and dance card before bowing low. “I look forward to dancing with you very soon, Miss Burton.” Looking just to her left, he gave another small inclination of his head and then turned away, leaving Ivy standing to watch after him.

  “Lord Sutcliffe has a dance with you then?”

  Ivy turned to see Lady Landerbelt watching after Lord Sutcliffe with the same confusion in her eyes as Ivy felt in her heart.

  “He has two,” she told her friend. “He was very kind to me, Lady Landerbelt.”

  “I did overhear, yes,” Lady Landerbelt said, with a hint of surprise in her voice. “You must be cautious, Miss Burton. A gentleman can change his ways, of course, and a rake can become a very respectable gentleman – but such transformations are very infrequent and not always lasting.”

  Ivy pressed her lips together, not wanting to tell Lady Landerbelt of the strange sense of excitement that had burst over her as Lord Sutcliffe had spoken to her. “I will be very careful indeed,” she said, trying to reassure both her friend and herself. Her heart could not be fickle, could not be unaware. Lord Sutcliffe might have a hint of kindness about him, but that did not mean she could trust him – even if her feelings for him had already begun to change.

  4

  Two weeks later

  It had been a fortnight, Timothy reflected, since he had danced with Miss Burton for the first time. A fortnight since she had permitted him to take her in his arms and to spin around the floor for the waltz, trusting him. The way her green eyes had looked up into his had caught his attention all over again, and since that night, he had found his heart suddenly awakened with a strange swirl of emotions that Timothy was not quite certain he liked.

  Even now, he could still recall the swell of rage that had filled his heart when he had overheard Lord Winchester speaking to Miss Burton with such inconsideration. The way she had dropped her head had torn at his heart, wondering what Lord Winchester was thinking to be speaking to her so callously.

  “You are succeeding, I think.”

  Timothy looked up from where he had been sitting in Whites, nursing a glass of brandy. Lord Musgrave did not look at all pleased. In fact, he looked rather upset.

  “I have not succeeded yet,” Timothy murmured, feeling his heart tumbling to the floor at the thought of Miss Burton hearing the truth about what he had done, about how his interest in her came only from the hope of winning a bet.

  “But I fear you shall,” Lord Musgrave muttered, sinking down into a chair opposite. “What is it that you are doing that has captured the lady’s attention so?”

  Timothy shrugged, not quite certain as to the reason for Miss Burton’s continued interest in him. It had come slowly, yes, but the more he conversed with her, the more he found his own intentions fixed solely upon her, the more she seemed to respond. He was not going to her with the hope of stealing a kiss, as Lord Musgrave might well have done, but rather was taking his time. After all, he had a full month and as yet, only a fortnight had passed. This very evening, at Lord and Lady Fitzpatrick’s soiree, he intended to ask Miss Burton if he might begin to call upon her with the intention of courting her soon to follow.

  “You shall have a kiss from her lips sooner than I was able to, I fear,” Lord Musgrave sighed, rolling his eyes and slumping back in his chair. “Then that painting shall never be mine.”

  Timothy lifted one eyebrow in surprise. “I did not know that you were ever truly interested in that painting,” he said, as Lord Musgrave muttered something under his breath. “I do not wish to sell it, as you know, else I would have done so had you asked.”

  Lord Musgrave waved a hand impatiently. “I know very well that you will not sell it, simply because you are much too sentimental,” he said with that same hint of anger or dislike that had been there so many times before. Timothy ignored it, reminding himself that Lord Musgrave was now a little irritated and might very well react very poorly indeed.

  “My father thought very highly of that painting, yes,” Timothy replied mildly. “I do not think it to be a painting of great value myself, but because he loved it so very dearly, I have every intention of keeping it.”

  “Unless you lose the wager,” Lord Musgrave said, passing a hand over his eyes. “You still have to kiss the lady and that, I fear, shall not come easily.” A chuckle left his lips, but Timothy did not smile. “I know that to be true, Lord Sutcliffe.”

  “Mayhap I shall not find it as difficult as you,” Timothy retorted, a little more sharply than he had intended. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must return home to prepare for this evening’s soiree.”

  He did not say anything more. He did not bid Lord Musgrave goodbye but rather strode from Whites without even a backwards glance. He could not say what it was, but there was something about the way Lord Musgrave spoke that had him feeling a little wary. Perhaps it was simply because Lord Musgrave had anticipated that Timothy would find it more than difficult to even come close to Miss Burton, only to realize that he was succeeding where Musgrave had failed. Perhaps it was because he did not want to have to relinquish the pair of greys that he himself had put up in the wager. Or mayhap it was because his pride would be injured if Timothy managed to do what he had struggled to achieve.

  Shrugging to himself, Timothy hailed a hackney, climbed inside, and gave the direction as to where it was to go. There was no need to continue to consider Lord Musgrave, he decided. The gentleman could be as disappointed or as angry as he wished, it would not detract from the fact that Timothy himself was, he hoped, soon to win the wager.

  “Just as long as Miss Burton does not hear of it,” he muttered to himself, wondering why he suddenly felt such guilt over what he had agreed to do. It was not like him to feel such a way, and certainly, he did not want to feel such an upsetting emotion, but it lingered in him nonetheless. Sighing, Timothy sat back and closed his eyes, trying to push all thoughts of Miss Burton and his wager away. There was no need to think on either of such things, he told himself. He was not about to become involved with Miss Burton in any real way; he would win the wager and gain the two greys from Lord Musgrave soon afterwards. The ton would hear of it, of course, for he could not expect someone not to notice that the greys had changed hands, and then mayhap Lord Musgrave would say something that might upset Miss Burton if she were to hear of it.

  Sweat began to bead on his brow, and he opened his eyes, sitting up a little straighter. There might be rumors. Gossip would run over society like a waterfall, spreading out everywhere without hesitation. Miss Burton could be caught up in it and any chance of her making a successful match would be gone forever. After all, that was why she was in London, was it not? She had told him as much herself. Rubbing one hand across his brow, Timothy let out a quiet groan, overcome with so many emotions that he could not seem to concentrate on only one. The guilt that assuaged him came with such force that he was forced
to squeeze his eyes closed tight, feeling a sharp pain press into his heart. What would become of Miss Burton? This was nothing more than selfishness and pride on his part and on the part of Lord Musgrave and, even though she had nothing whatsoever to do with the wager, no doubt she would be affected in one way or another.

  Letting out a long breath, Timothy tried to tell himself that there was no need for alarm, no need for concern. He would do all he could to protect Miss Burton, as was only fair, but he could not give up the wager. He would lose his painting by forfeit, and it had been very, very dear to his late father. Taking in another settling breath and letting it rattle out of him again, Timothy sat back in his seat and gave himself a slight shake. He was being ridiculous, he told himself. All he needed to do now was concentrate on the wager and do his best to steal a kiss from Miss Burton before the month was up. Everything else, he could deal with thereafter.

  “Good evening, Lord Sutcliffe.”

  Timothy bowed quickly, fully aware that Lady Landerbelt was sending him a rather hard look, as if she knew what his intentions were towards Miss Burton.

  “Good evening, Miss Burton,” he answered, thinking to himself that Miss Burton looked very pleasing indeed with her dark green gown that brought out the color of her eyes. With her sparkling smile and a warmth about her expression that had not always been present, Timothy felt as though he were being blessed with some sort of beautiful gift that he did not deserve. “You look very well this evening, I must say.” His smile slipped just a little as he glanced at Lady Landerbelt. “As do you, Lady Landerbelt.”

  “I thank you,” she replied, as Miss Burton returned his smile with one of her own. She glanced at Miss Burton, with the two ladies sharing a long look before Lady Landerbelt took her leave, allowing Timothy and Miss Burton a chance to talk uninterrupted, although Lady Landerbelt herself only lingered a few steps away.