Regency Engagements Box Set

by Charlotte Fitzwilliam

  Lady Landerbelt said nothing for a minute or so, looking back at Ivy in silence. Ivy, becoming a little ashamed of her outburst as her embarrassment grew, realizing that a few other members of the ton might well have overheard her every word, placed her hands back in her lap and lowered her eyes. How long had she had such extraordinary feelings for Lord Sutcliffe? How long had she felt this new affection rising up within her heart, an affection that was eager to defend him to anyone – including Lady Landerbelt, the lady who had come to help Ivy for no other reason other than the kindness of her heart. Ivy’s face began to heat as she lowered her eyes, her shoulders drooping.

  “You truly have come to care for him, have you not?” Lady Landerbelt said, sounding almost sorrowful. “I swear to you, Miss Burton, I am doing all I can to protect you from what I fear might be a very great heartbreak, but mayhap I am wrong. Mayhap he has changed his ways entirely and has come to care for you, as you care for him.” She sighed heavily, but Ivy did not lift her gaze. “You are correct to state that I cannot give you a reason as to why Lord Sutcliffe might be pursuing you in such a fashion, save for the fact that he might truly be interested in you, which, I am afraid, is something that I struggle to accept without hesitation.” Another sigh left her lips and she reached across the table, trying to catch Ivy’s attention. Reluctantly, Ivy lifted her head and looked at her friend, seeing the flicker of regret in Lady Landerbelt’s eyes.

  “I am sorry,” Ivy mumbled, now feeling entirely unworthy of Lady Landerbelt’s friendship. “I should not have spoken so.”

  Lady Landerbelt laughed quietly and immediately, the tension began to drain away from Ivy. “You need not apologize,” Lady Landerbelt said, patting Ivy’s hand for a moment before she reached for her tea. “You have feelings of affection for Lord Sutcliffe and, as such, you wish to defend him and what he has become to you.” She lifted one shoulder. “I quite understand that.”

  “And you are only trying to protect me,” Ivy replied, taking in a long breath and looking directly into Lady Landerbelt’s face. “I should not have spoken so. You are correct to be hesitant, and I am foolish to push forward without thinking clearly.” Setting her shoulders, she gave herself a small nod as though she had only just decided within herself to do as Lady Landerbelt suggested. “I must still be cautious instead of allowing myself to hope and to dream as I have done.”

  Lady Landerbelt closed her eyes and bit her lip, wincing as she did so. “I would not take your hope from you,” she said slowly, “but there is still something about Lord Sutcliffe’s dramatic change of character that does not sit well with me.” Her eyes opened and she leaned forward in her chair. “It is not that I think he cannot be drawn to you or that you are not worthy of his attentions, Miss Burton,” she said, firmly, “but rather that he is a gentleman who cannot be trusted, even if he seems to prove it to you.”

  “I understand,” Ivy answered, her stomach tightening. “What is it you think I should do?”

  Lady Landerbelt let out her breath slowly, her eyes holding a good many questions that Ivy did not think she could answer as yet. “Be honest with him,” she said quietly. “Ask him directly as to his intentions. Seek out the truth and do not let propriety or fear hold your words back. You must discover it all, Miss Burton, no matter the cost.” Her blue eyes became a little stormy as Ivy tried to nod her agreement. “The truth must be given to you in its entirely, before you can allow yourself to trust him completely.”

  “I understand,” Ivy told her friend, glad that there was no angst between them. “I will do what you have suggested and pray for a better outcome.”

  “As shall I,” Lady Landerbelt, answered quietly, reaching for her teapot to pour them a little more tea. “As shall I, Miss Burton.”

  It was all very well to have such intentions when one was sitting with Lady Landerbelt drinking tea, but when one was out walking with Lord Sutcliffe himself and feeling such a sense of contentment, it was suddenly very difficult indeed.

  “Your mother has fallen behind, Miss Burton.”

  “Hmm?” She looked up at Lord Sutcliffe, realizing that he was now looking over his shoulder, his brows knotting. She came to a quick halt, turning her head and seeing her mother now laughing and conversing with another lady who stood with her daughter. That was the trouble of coming to Hyde Park, she considered, finding a little frustration rising in her heart. Her mother would find far too many acquaintances and the like to converse with.

  “I am sorry,” she muttered, a sheen of embarrassment rushing down over her face. “My mother is often distracted by the company of others, and I think that must be Lady Stockbridge, who is a very close acquaintance.”

  Lord Sutcliffe chuckled and the embarrassment she felt lifted at once.

  “You need not apologize, Miss Burton,” he said, turning back to her and offering her his arm. “It is Hyde Park, I suppose, and therefore, it must be expected that it is full of those who might wish to converse with Lady Bainbridge. I would be happy to continue walking with you, so long as we remain in sight of her.”

  Grateful for his consideration and once more convinced of his genuine attention towards her, Ivy took his arm with a warm smile, feeling her heart lift as they began to walk along the path once more.

  Lady Landerbelt’s words came back into her mind with a sudden force, however, as Lord Sutcliffe began to speak of the ball they would attend this evening. No doubt, he would ask for her to spare a dance or two for him, and she would, therefore, ensure that her dance card was heavily guarded until he arrived. Would he take the waltz, as he had done before? The thought of being in his arms again sent a flurry all through her, making her both anxious and excited in equal measure.

  “What do you want from me, Lord Sutcliffe?”

  The question ripped from her mouth before she could prevent it, jarring against the polite conversation that Lord Sutcliffe had been making only moments before. Silence followed her words, as Ivy tried her best to catch Lord Sutcliffe’s eye, finding it very difficult indeed to do so, given that his gaze began to jump from her face to the path before them and back again. Part of her wanted to laugh and state that she did not know what she had meant, that there was no need for him to answer, but then the warning in Lady Landerbelt’s eyes came back to her and she kept her mouth closed, waiting for him to respond.

  Lord Sutcliffe cleared his throat and tried to smile, but it did not reach up towards his eyes.

  “Do you mean to ask me what my intentions are, Miss Burton?” he asked, as she nodded, aware of how her cheeks were now heating at a furious pace. “Do you mean to enquire as to why I have been so eager to call upon you these last few weeks?”

  Remembering that Lady Landerbelt had told her to be as strong as she could be, to throw aside all propriety and expectation, Ivy took in a long, steadying breath before she responded.

  “I ask, Lord Sutcliffe, what it is that you want from our acquaintance,” she said firmly, despite the quailing in in her heart. “You have been very attentive of late, but I must wonder what it is that you wish to happen should we continue to move forward.” Her hand rested on his arm as they walked, but she was certain she could feel his arm tightening, as if he was now racked with tension. “I have made my intentions for the Season very clear, I think.”

  Lord Sutcliffe sighed, and Ivy’s heart dropped like a stone. “You have, indeed,” he agreed. “I cannot pretend that I have been unaware of it, Miss Burton. Nor can I pretend that I have been clear about my own wishes either.” Sighing again, he let his gaze drop to hers. “My intentions have changed a great deal these last few weeks,” he continued, making her wonder what he meant. “I find now, Miss Burton, that I should like to court you with the single intention of moving forward towards marriage.”

  Her breath caught, and she stumbled, forcing Lord Sutcliffe to catch her arm. She could barely breathe, her heart aching with a glorious, furious joy that threatened to steal her full attention and take away all the other questions she h
ad intended to ask.

  “I would hope that my request to court you would be granted,” Lord Sutcliffe said softly, as he stood, looking down into her face. “But I should not even dare to ask your father without being quite certain that you would be willing to accept.”

  “I would accept,” Ivy found herself saying, her heart slamming hard against her chest, with all questions Lady Landerbelt had encouraged her to ask beginning to fade away. “Might I ask why, Lord Sutcliffe?”

  “Why?” He looked startled then smiled broadly, a new light in his eyes that she felt deep within her heart. “You want to know why I wish to court you?”

  She nodded, aware of just how tightly she now held onto his arm. “No other gentleman has done so,” she said, gesturing to her face. “They all see this and think of me as imperfect.”

  Much to her surprise, he reached out and let his finger brush across the scar, with such infinite gentleness that she wanted to cry for the tenderness that was in such a gesture.

  “I do not see it,” he told her, his eyes lifting to hers as he turned to face her, with Ivy realizing that they were now a little away from the path, half hidden by the tree branches and the wonderful green and yellow leaves that wrapped around them. Quite how they had come to stand here, she could not say, but there was no eagerness to return to the path nor to her mother growing deep within her. Sighing contentedly, Ivy leaned into his hand, her eyes closing of their own accord as she stood stock still, half hoping that Lord Sutcliffe might reach down to kiss her, perhaps to confirm to her all that he had said, all that he now desired.

  “My brother caused it,” she told him, realizing that she had never once given him an explanation for it. “He was angry with me over something trivial and threw a stone in my direction.” Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “He and I were never very close as children, but now I have a lasting mark of his dislike of me.” Her heart began to ache, but Lord Sutcliffe only moved closer, as though he was aware of everything that she now felt.

  “I see only you,” Lord Sutcliffe murmured, his hand now dropping to her shoulder before running down her arm. “You do not need to tell me of such a mark, nor explain how you came about it. I do not think that it detracts from your beauty nor from your loveliness.” He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “The gentlemen who saw it and turned from you are the fools, Miss Burton. I will not permit myself to be so.”

  In a moment, she had stepped closer to him and found his hand now resting about her waist, their eyes seeking the other’s without any desire to step away or move elsewhere. Her heart was beating frantically, with both anticipation and excitement, hoping desperately that there might come something between them that she would never allow herself to forget.

  “Miss Burton, I—”

  His head dropped and his forehead rested lightly against hers. Ivy caught her breath, feeling his exhaled sigh whisper across her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed, her hands reaching up to press against his chest. All sense had flown from her and she did not even think what would occur should her mother walk by and see them – or if another member of the ton should discover them.

  And then, Lord Sutcliffe let out such a loud, tormented groan that all that she felt shattered in a moment, leaving her to stare up at him with shock and confusion.

  “The urge to kiss you, Miss Burton, is so very strong,” Lord Sutcliffe told her, one hand over his eyes as an expression of agony crossed his face. “This was not meant to occur. I was never meant to feel such a strength of emotion for you.”

  She blinked in surprise, one hand pressed against her chest as a growing horror began to settle over her. “You were never meant to?” she repeated, as he spun on his heel to walk a few paces away, only to turn around and return to her. “What do you mean, Lord Sutcliffe?”

  He groaned aloud again, before dropping his hand and looking into her eyes. “I am deeply, deeply in love with you, Miss Burton.”

  She frowned, her heart no longer as willing to reach out towards him as it had been before. She felt as if she had reached a door that held a good many secrets behind it, and that all she had to do now was open it.

  Lady Landerbelt, she feared, had been quite correct in all that she had advised.

  “I cannot kiss you, Miss Burton, even though I might wish to,” he said hoarsely, his hazel eyes tormented, his jaw working furiously as he looked at her in evident agony. “I should like to do so very much indeed, I should like to take you in my arms and make my affections clear, but to do so would permit Lord Musgrave to—”

  “Lord Musgrave?” She recoiled, taking a step back and spreading out one long hand, pointing at him. “You know Lord Musgrave well, then?”

  “He…” Lord Sutcliffe shook his head, his face paling. “Lord Musgrave has been a strong acquaintance for some time, Miss Burton. He set up a wager, and I confess to you now that I have been taking part in it, for the sheer hope that I will win his pair of greys.”

  Ivy could barely speak, words dying on her lips before she could even form them. What Lord Sutcliffe had just told her shattered every single illusion she had held so tightly to her these last few days, suddenly feeling more like a fool than ever before.

  “You were not truly interested in my company,” she said dully, feeling tears spring to her eyes and making no attempt to dash them away. “This was simply to win a bet with Lord Musgrave, the gentleman I both fear and loathe more than any other.”

  “I did not know what he had done,” Lord Sutcliffe said earnestly, taking a step forward, only for Ivy to move back. “I swear to you that he did not tell me what had occurred.”

  Ivy looked up at him, her heart broken into so many pieces that she did not think she would ever be able to put them back together again. “What was the wager?” she asked softly, tears still sliding slowly down her cheeks as she held his gaze. “Tell me the truth of it, Lord Sutcliffe.”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “You will tell me.” The command in her voice surprised her, but she did not turn away from Lord Sutcliffe nor let her tears take full hold of her. “What was it you agreed to, Lord Sutcliffe?”

  Putting his head in his hands, Lord Sutcliffe muttered something indistinct and then let his hands fall to his sides. His expression was one of agony, of regret and upset, but she did not take it in nor let herself feel even a flicker of sympathy for him.

  “Lord Musgrave told me it had taken him a little over a month to steal a kiss from you,” Lord Sutcliffe said, not quite managing to look directly into her face but rather letting his gaze settle on her shoulder. “I was to attempt to do so in less.”

  “I see.” Her heart screamed aloud in pain at this again, but she did not let the news shake her visibly. “And then, why do you not do so?” She spread her hands wide, lifting her chin. “Here now is your opportunity to win the wager and take whatever it is you have agreed to.”

  “No.”

  The firmness of his voice, the determination in his eyes, and the working of his jaw surprised her. She had expected him to step forward and take it, to kiss her briefly so that he might go to Lord Musgrave and tell him that he had succeeded, but instead, he simply turned away from her, as if he did not want to be tempted by what she had offered.

  “No, I shall not,” he said, a little more loudly. “Miss Burton, the reason I could not do it, the reason I shall not do it now, is because my heart yearns for you.” His eyes finally caught hers, and she felt herself tremble inside, seeing just how much he felt but finding her own heart writhing with so much agony that she could barely breathe without pain.

  “You will not believe me, of course,” he said softly, spreading his hands, “and for that, I cannot blame you.” Shaking his head, he groaned aloud and dropped his gaze to the ground at their feet. “I am a scoundrel, a rake, and a charlatan, Miss Burton. I have deceived you. I have betrayed your trust. But I will tell you the truth of my heart now, whilst I have a chance to do so.” Lifting his chin, he looked back into her eyes
, and Ivy felt herself silenced, despite the urge to throw harsh, angry words back at him.

  “I love you,” he said, sending a tremor straight through her. “That is why I cannot take from you what you have offered. I will lose the wager. I will give Lord Musgrave the painting that he so eagerly desires, and I shall be glad for the pain that such an act brings, given what I have done.” He shook his head again, his eyes narrowing. “I did not, for even a moment, know what Lord Musgrave had done, Miss Burton. I thought he had taken a kiss from you that you had given without hesitation. I did not once think that he had been so deceitful and cruel.” His eyes shuttered. “I cannot become like him. I will not become like him.”

  Ivy swallowed the ache in her throat, her eyes still burning with tears but no more fell to her cheeks. She could not take in all that he was saying, her heart beating painfully in her chest.

  “I have come to care for you with such a deep affection that I do not know what to do,” Lord Sutcliffe continued, his voice softening. “I have battled through my own guilt; I have found my thoughts tying themselves to you and realizing that I cannot continue on as I am, treating you with such callousness. In short, Miss Burton, you have revealed my soul and the depths of my heart to me, and I have become lost in the darkness that resides there.” A momentary pause had her glancing up at him, seeing the torment in his eyes but finding no sympathy growing within her own heart for him. “I was always so proud of being a rake, glad of my selfishness and pride. And then, you ignored me in the bookshop and I found myself quite caught up with you. You are the most wonderful of ladies, Miss Burton, and I do not deserve your company, never mind anything more. I have tried and failed to find a way to speak to you the truth of what I am and what I have done, but it has only been in this moment, when I saw what you were willing to give me, that I knew I could not go on.”

  “Then you meant none of it,” she said, softly, her voice breaking. “The talk of courtship and the like was—”