Regency Engagements Box Set

by Charlotte Fitzwilliam

  It was with sadness over his own lack of moral character that he stepped into the ballroom, hardly daring to look for Miss Burton. His host was the first to greet him, and Timothy forced the familiar sham smile onto his face, accepting the man’s congratulations without much enthusiasm.

  “Miss Burton has arrived, I think,” Lord Somerville said, with a knowing smile. “Although I cannot be certain as to where she is at present.” He chuckled and gestured to the rest of the ballroom, which was very full indeed. “As you can see, most of my guests have arrived before you!”

  Timothy tried to laugh, but it came out as a croak. “I thank you,” he said quickly, as the smile on Lord Somerville’s face dimmed somewhat. “I will go in search of her at once.” With a nod of thanks, he stepped away, not quite certain where he was going, but knowing that he wanted to get away from Lord Somerville just as quickly as he could.

  The room was hot already and Timothy began to make his way towards the open French doors near the back of the ballroom. He did not want to speak to anyone, did not want to greet them and listen to their exclamations of delight over his supposedly happy engagement. Instead, he wanted a few moments to become accustomed to being with so many of the beau monde in his newly engaged state, so that he might built up a little fortitude before he met with Miss Burton and had to put on his façade all over again.

  “Lord Musgrave seeks your presence, Lord Sutcliffe.”

  Timothy started in surprise as a footman stepped forward out of the shadows, perhaps having waited for him to approach before speaking.

  “I apologize for interrupting you, of course,” the footman continued, with a low bow. “But Lord Musgrave wishes to see you immediately.”

  Timothy glared at the footman, knowing full well that he was putting all his feelings of angst onto the man without due course. However, the footman did not baulk but rather kept his gaze on Timothy’s steadily, showing no signs of intimidation.

  “He is waiting for you in the small parlor next to what has become the card room,” the footman said, after a moment or two. “Should you wish me to accompany you?”

  “No,” Timothy bit out angrily, aware that the footman had done nothing wrong but still struggling with his anger over Lord Musgrave practically demanding that Timothy meet him. “I am quite able to go alone,” he muttered, before turning on his heel and returning across the ballroom in much the same way he had come.

  He did not want to go to Lord Musgrave, to obey his demand without hesitation, but yet there was matters that needed to be discussed. They would have to talk about the exchange of the painting, for one, given that Timothy was certain to lose. The month was not quite completed for there were a few days left still, but he would make certain not to kiss Miss Burton until the wager had been lost. That was the least he could do. He would rather bear the pain that would come from giving away his father’s beloved painting than allow Miss Burton to think that she was of lesser importance to him.

  Muttering darkly to himself still, Timothy hurried into the small room by the card room, not at all surprised to see Lord Musgrave in a chair, a glass of brandy in his hand, as he looked up at Timothy with a small, sardonic smile spreading across his face.

  “Ah, you have arrived at last.” He glanced up at the clock on the wall and tutted loudly. “I have been waiting for some time.”

  “I do not care how long you have been waiting,” Timothy answered honestly, a gritty anger thrust into each word. “What is it that you want, Musgrave?”

  Lord Musgrave looked a little surprised, then the corners of his cold eyes crinkled as he chuckled.

  “Surely you cannot expect me to ignore the news that my dear acquaintance is now suddenly betrothed!” he exclaimed, with a wide grin. “And to Miss Burton, no less!” He shook his head, the smile sliding away to be replaced with a dark look that had Timothy tensing. “Tell me, were you discovered?”

  Timothy frowned, folding his arms across his chest, his stance firm. “What do you mean?”

  “Were you discovered in a compromising situation?” Lord Musgrave asked, his words sharp. “Have I lost the wager? Am I to give you my pair of greys?”

  Timothy’s frown disappeared in an instant, and he threw up his hands, waving them about as he gesticulated.

  “I care nothing for your greys!” he exclaimed, his voice filling the room. “Indeed, I care nothing for this wager, not any longer!” Beginning to pace up and down the room, he glared angrily at Lord Musgrave. “I used to think that the things we did were nothing more than trivial, but now I realize just how much pain we must have brought to those we pursued.” His heart began to slam into his chest, his guilt bearing down on him as he continued to speak the truth aloud. “I did not know that you had tricked Miss Burton into coming into a room alone, so that you might do as you wanted with her,” he continued, his hand curling into a fist as he turned to face Lord Musgrave, who now had an expression of astonishment spreading across his face. “But I could not lift myself high above you, not when I have behaved in much the same manner.” His lip curled. “But it is thanks to Miss Burton that I now see myself for what I am – a rogue and a scoundrel of the highest order.”

  Lord Musgrave began to laugh, but Timothy rounded on him at once, his hand still tight in a fist, which, immediately, sent the laughter spiraling out of the room.

  “Those names are not badges of honor,” Timothy grated, his eyes narrowing with anger. “I once thought them to be, but now I see the truth of it. They are filth that clings to our very bones, Musgrave. I may be engaged to Miss Burton, but I will not kiss her, will not even attempt to do so until the month has passed.” His jaw working furiously, and he turned away before he struck the arrogance from Lord Musgrave’s eyes, knowing that the man was not taking in a single thing that Timothy was saying. “You may have the painting.”

  “Even though your father loved it so very dearly?” Lord Musgrave asked, a hint of mockery in his tone. “You will give it up without hesitation?”

  Timothy nodded, his jaw still tight. “I will,” he said harshly. “And nothing you can say will prevent me from doing so.”

  There came a few moments of silence, stretching out and spreading tension between himself and Lord Musgrave until Timothy felt he could take no more. Turning, he looked towards Lord Musgrave and saw the man’s face set hard, his eyes a little thoughtful but his jaw set firm.

  “What if,” Lord Musgrave said quietly, “I told you that I could break your engagement.”

  A tingle ran up Timothy’s spine. “What do you mean?”

  “What I mean is,” Lord Musgrave said, with a small shrug, “is that an engagement would be easy enough to break. That way, you can be free of the burden of marriage.”

  Timothy bit his lip hard and tasted blood, trying to keep a firm hold of his anger. He did not want to even imagine what Lord Musgrave intended in order to help Timothy break his engagement. “And what if I do not wish to be free of it?”

  Lord Musgrave chuckled darkly. “Come now, old friend,” he said with a grin. “I know you well, do you not recall? We have been acquainted for a long time, and I am certain that you do not wish to be wed. Not yet, at least.” He chuckled again, but Timothy did not smile. “I could easily bring this engagement to a close, if you wished me to.”

  The anger began to burn up Timothy’s throat, his voice rasping as he spoke, his hands clenched. “You mean you would attempt to make it appear as though Miss Burton had been found in an improper situation so that I could easily cry off.”

  “That is it precisely,” Lord Musgrave said, as though this was quite reasonable. “She was easy enough to lure once. I am certain I could do so again – that is, unless you yourself wish to behave improperly and have her cry off from you! That certainly would be easier.”

  “I have no wish to do so,” Timothy said through gritted teeth. “And I find your suggestions repugnant.” He made to turn away, to spin on his heel and stalk from the room before he let his anger loose upon
Lord Musgrave, only for Lord Musgrave to say something that commanded every bit of his attention.

  “And what if I were to say that, should you be willing to allow me to do such a thing, that I would bring an end to our wager?”

  Timothy froze, closing his eyes tightly and taking in a long breath, feeling a cold chill spread out across his chest. Lord Musgrave knew just how much Timothy wanted to keep that particular painting, given that it had been so dear to his late father, and now, for whatever reason, he was using that knowledge against Timothy.

  “What did you say?” Timothy whispered, turning around slowly, opening his eyes to see Lord Musgrave wave a hand as though it meant nothing. “Explain yourself to me, Musgrave.”

  Lord Musgrave did not look in the least bit disconcerted. “What is there to explain?” he said with a small shrug. “Miss Burton was, as you know, something of a conquest for me.” His expression darkened just a fraction. “I do not like being refused, and she refused me repeatedly.”

  “And so you would seek to punish her by taking some sort of revenge?” Timothy asked, appalled. “That is what you want to do?”

  Lord Musgrave shrugged. “It would allow me to feel that sense of satisfaction, yes – a balm to my wounded pride.” He laughed darkly and put one hand over his heart. “And, at the same time, it would keep you from having to go ahead with this marriage, which I cannot quite believe you wish to continue on with.”

  Timothy clenched his jaw hard, trying to find a way to contain the torrent of rage that had just been unleashed through him at Lord Musgrave’s words. The horror of it, the disgust and bile that rose within him, was too much to contain.

  “How dare you?” he hissed, slowly advancing towards Lord Musgrave, whose smile slipped completely, only to be replaced by a look of alarm. “You think to manipulate me into doing what you want? You want to use my father’s beloved painting in order to achieve your goals?” His hands reached out, grasping Lord Musgrave by the collar. “No, I shall not allow you to do so!” His voice was loud now, filling the room as Lord Musgrave began to scrabble at the arms of his chair, his feet slipping against the floor as Timothy continued to haul him upwards. “I once considered us to be very similar, Lord Musgrave. Now I consider you to be the sort of gentleman I ought to try not to become. I cannot even be near you without the stench of your vile cruelty clinging to me!” He threw the man back down into his chair with a thump, his mind screaming with anger, his gaze narrowed. “I will not give up the wager. You will succeed, Lord Musgrave. You may have my painting, and I shall wed Miss Burton. I love her.” The rage within him began to fade as a vision of Miss Burton rose up before him, calming him all the more. “She is to be my wife, and I intend to devote all of my days to her comfort and care. I have brought her so much pain already but no longer. No longer, I say!” Pointing one trembling finger towards Lord Musgrave, Timothy paused for a moment, feeling the weight of his words already slamming down hard against Lord Musgrave. “If you go near to Miss Burton, if you so much as speak to her, I shall call you out for what you did. I shall tell society that you attempted to take from her what was not yours. And I shall be glad to do it.”

  Lord Musgrave opened and closed his mouth like a fish, his face almost grey with shock and fear.

  “You need not threaten Lord Musgrave, Lord Sutcliffe,” said a quiet voice behind him, making Timothy spin around to see not only Miss Burton standing before him but also Lady Landerbelt, who wore a delighted smile on her face. “Lady Landerbelt has already done so.”

  Timothy stared at her in utter shock, a flush of heat rushing through him, which was swiftly followed by a shiver of cold. Lady Landerbelt moved her gaze from his face towards Lord Musgrave, the smile disappearing as she began to frown hard.

  “I-I do not understand,” Timothy said hoarsely, taking a small step back as Lady Landerbelt advanced towards Lord Musgrave, leaving Miss Burton to stand in front of him, her expression now rather thoughtful. “What has happened? Why do you speak of Lord Musgrave?”

  “As I have said,” Miss Burton answered, as Lord Musgrave rose from his chair, his eyes downcast but his jaw working furiously and lips pulled taut. “Lady Landerbelt has already threatened him.”

  Timothy shook his head, hard, trying to clear his confusion and make sense of all that was happening around him. Every single thread of anger, rage, and fury had already left him, chased away by the overwhelming shock at seeing Miss Burton and Lady Landerbelt standing in the room behind him.

  “It was very simple indeed, I confess,” Lady Landerbelt said in a sing-song voice. “Lord Musgrave is an odious gentleman, and I found it very simple indeed to find something that I might use against him.”

  Turning around slowly, his head buzzing furiously, Timothy picked up the remaining brandy in Lord Musgrave’s glass and threw it back, letting out a quick breath before he set the glass back down and looked at Lord Musgrave. “You mean to say, Lady Landerbelt, that all that Lord Musgrave has said, all that he has asked me, came from you?”

  “Indeed,” she answered simply. “He was told to say precisely what I told him to say, to ask what I insisted he ask.” She lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “Else, I can assure you that his debts to one Lord Westfordshire would have been called in immediately, which I am certain Lord Musgrave does not want.”

  Timothy’s eyes slid to Lord Musgrave, who was glowering at Lady Landerbelt with such obvious hatred in his eyes that, for a moment, Timothy feared that he might react to what Lady Landerbelt had said. He watched as Lady Landerbelt looked back at Lord Musgrave, saw the quirking of her lips and realized that she had no fear whatsoever for this particular gentleman.

  “You are dismissed, Lord Musgrave,” she told him, as though speaking to a servant. “You have done your duty. I think Lord Westfordshire will continue to forget about your debts at present—although,” she continued, with a lowering of her brows, “should you continue to treat young ladies in the way you behaved towards Miss Burton, then I cannot say whether or not Lord Westfordshire will continue to be so forgetful.”

  Lord Musgrave ground his teeth but, much to Timothy’s surprise, either did not or could not say a single word. After a moment or two, he swung around and stormed from the room, his back rigid with evident anger. Timothy watched him leave, letting out a sigh of relief as the door closed behind Lord Musgrave.

  “I do apologize for the deception, Lord Sutcliffe,” Lady Landerbelt said pleasantly, as she turned her head back towards him. “But you see, Miss Burton and I had to ensure that there was nothing but truth in your words. Neither of us could tell for certain whether or not you sincerely loved Miss Burton, as you said, and thus, for Miss Burton’s sake, we had to discover whether or not you spoke with honesty.”

  Giving Lady Landerbelt a swift nod of understanding and feeling as though the clouds were beginning to part all around him, Timothy turned back towards Miss Burton. She was standing watching him, her cheeks warm but her eyes still holding a flicker of uncertainty.

  “Did I reassure you, Miss Burton?” he asked, his voice no longer hoarse but rather a good deal more steady and calm. “Can you trust what I have said to you now?”

  His heart began to beat faster as she watched his features for a long moment, clearly considering what he had said and what she had heard. Praying that she would not turn from him, that she would trust that what he had told her was the truth, Timothy held her gaze, looking into her eyes and seeing how they glimmered with the faintest of hope.

  “You have not betrayed me, Lord Sutcliffe,” she said softly, spreading her hands. “I cannot pretend that you have done so for that would not be the truth. When you could have taken Lord Musgrave’s offer and kept the portrait for yourself, you chose not to do so.” She took a small step closer to him, and he saw how her eyes were glistening with tears, his heart wrenching open all over again. “You have shown me, through your words and determined actions, that you truly have turned aside from all that you were before.” Her smile
was bright, her trust in him seeming to grow steadily until it was almost too much for him to bear. “It is as though I am seeing you for the very first time.”

  Timothy licked his lips, feeling entirely unworthy of the lady in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lady Landerbelt moving towards the door, stepping out and pulling it gently behind her, leaving them both alone.

  It seemed she knew that they needed a few minutes alone, and for that, Timothy was grateful.

  “Over the course of the last few weeks, you have been the one to show me the truth about my character,” he told Miss Burton, shaking his head. “I have not known myself, Miss Burton, but now that I see the truth of it, I find myself quite repulsed by it all.” His gaze dropped to the floor, shame bearing down on him once more. “And yet, when I heard Lord Musgrave speak, I felt such repugnance that I knew in my heart, I could never continue on with such a way of living. I have turned my back on it entirely, Miss Burton, because I do not want to be such a gentleman any longer.”

  Miss Burton moved a little closer, standing only a few steps away from him. A soft smile had lifted the corners of her mouth, and she was watching him with a sweetness in her expression that he felt he did not deserve.

  “Then tell me, Lord Sutcliffe, what sort of gentleman do you now want to be?” she asked, holding out one hand towards him. “Will you not tell me?”

  Hardly daring to believe that he was being offered such a thing, Timothy stepped forward and tentatively took her hand, a little fearful that she might pull it away without explanation and return once more to that sorrowful, despondent creature he had created.

  She did not. The warmth in her eyes and the lightness of her smile brought him a little more courage, a little more hope. It seemed that he had managed to prove himself to her after all.

  “I want to be a gentleman who cares deeply for his wife,” he told her, seeing her eyes dart away for a moment, although her smile remained. “I want to be the kind of gentleman who finds ways to express his love for his dear wife every day of their life together.” His fingers tightened on hers, and he moved forward even more, standing so close to her that he felt his heart begin to pound with both longing and anticipation. “I want to reject all cruelty, all selfishness, and all conceit, Miss Burton. I want, instead, for my life to be filled with you and none but you. I have no intention of seeking out any other company than your own, from this day forward.” Still a little hesitant, he reached out with his free hand and settled it on her waist, overjoyed when she did not pull away. “But most of all, Miss Burton, I want to make certain that my wife, the lady that I love most ardently, is herself happy, contented, and glad that she came to marry me, for I know very well that I do not deserve such a wonderful gift as she.”