Last Chance for the Charming Ladies: A Clean & Sweet Regency Historical Romance Collection

by Fanny Finch

  “Ah, but your sister is a woman, and can discuss things with women in such a way that men cannot. I could figure out for you which women you would be most suited to.

  “You say that many of these women are too shy to speak with you. Or you suspect that they are only agreeing with you and placating you. Perhaps then they will be less intimidated by me and I can see more of their true natures.

  “I am certain that over time as your wife grows used to you that she will grow bolder with you. She will be more comfortable with being her true self around you. And when that time comes you want to be certain that the true character of your wife is one that is compatible with yours. Allow me to help with that.”

  Edward thought about it. He did not like the idea of using his sister. Goodness knew that she had plenty to worry about already. And she was taking on Miss Worthing as her personal project.

  But he had to admit that her logic was sound. She could speak to these women more honestly and receive plain responses. He could not.

  And if his wife started out shy or simpering or whatnot, he could trust in his sister’s judgment that as time went on she would become more comfortable and her true—and hopefully virtuous—nature would show itself.

  “I suppose I could allow you to lend yourself to my aid in such a manner,” Edward decided. “But do not tax yourself. You might potentially find a husband. And you must find one for Miss Worthing as well. I do not want you stretching yourself too thin.”

  Georgiana shook her head. “In helping you, Edward, I could never tax myself. All I want is to see you happy. If I can help with that, then it is my pleasure.”

  Edward hoped that she was right then, and women would be themselves around her. He hoped that if any of them pretended to be better or different than they were that she would see through them.

  After all, he was making little headway. And he had to marry soon. He had to produce an heir.

  He went up to bed, and as he did so he passed the landing that led to Miss Worthing’s set of rooms.

  He sighed. It appeared that the both of them had an uneasy task ahead of them.

  With a bit of luck, perhaps they would both come out the other side the happier for it.

  Chapter 9

  Maria worked hard over the next few days to try and elevate herself to the level of the other people she would see at the balls.

  She wasn’t entirely sure how well she succeeded.

  For example, Lord Reginald and Miss Reginald kindly took her to the theatre one evening. What Maria hadn’t realized was that going to the theatre was just as social as going to a ball.

  They had their own box, which was lovely. She greatly enjoyed the play itself.

  But before the show, and during the intermissions, and after the show, they had to speak to people.

  Maria was consistently asked things like, “How do you not know this actress? She is quite famous.” Or she was laughed at for mistranslating a French phrase in the play and therefore misunderstanding one of the jokes.

  She was trying her best but she simply could not seem to win no matter what she did.

  When she expressed her enthusiasm for the play, she was treated as though she was a child for being so energetic about it.

  “Yes, I suppose that the lead actor was rather good,” replied one gentleman when she gushed about the performance. “But this was one of his better nights. You ought to follow him in the papers, my dear. He’s known for disappointing audiences. I wonder at them keeping him around.”

  Maria didn’t know what to say to something like that. The man was insulting the actor but who was she to say if he was right or wrong? She didn’t know. It was his condescending tone towards her that hurt the most. As if it was somehow her fault for not knowing everything about what was going on in the theatre company.

  When she expressed admiration for the costumes, she got laughs. And not kind laughs, either.

  What on earth was she supposed to do?

  Lord Reginald, she could tell, still disliked how she was being treated. There were a few moments where she could see his jaw clenching so hard, she thought he might crack his teeth.

  But he respected both her wishes and the wishes of his sister and did not cause a scene by leaping to Maria’s defense.

  She did wish that his actions would not warm her heart so much. How was she to find a husband if her thoughts kept turning to him?

  Perhaps she should have realized it sooner. But she had never felt such a sensation before. She had not even had a true, girlish crush on any man. Beyond the passing fancy of thinking oh, that one is handsome, there had been no securing of her affections by anyone.

  And so it hit her with quite a great deal of surprise and pain when she realized that she was in love with Lord Reginald.

  It was at another ball. They had not gone to the dinner beforehand for they were attending a musical concert and therefore would arrive too late to partake. But they had come while the dancing was still in full swing.

  Lord Reginald was escorting her into the room along with his sister as was proper. She knew that she shouldn’t read into his escorting her and she didn’t. She knew that it was his duty since her father was unable to.

  But she was unable to banish the pleasure of entering the room with him. Of knowing that everyone could see them enter together.

  Not in the manner of being pleased to be seen with a duke. She did not care for his title. She cared that he was a good and honest man. A charming and handsome one as well. The kind of man any woman would want to be seen entering a room with.

  Then he had moved on to speak to some old acquaintances of his. Maria had looked around for someone that she knew. Mrs. Dale or Mrs. Rutlage, perhaps.

  As she had done so she had necessarily turned around to look at all corners of the room. She had seen, therefore, how the women had flocked to Lord Reginald like a magnet.

  She saw him bow to them and smile—that charming smile that made her breath catch in her throat. She felt childish for thinking so but in her mind that was how charming princes in fairy tales ought to smile.

  He was clearly telling some entertaining anecdote or other. She could see how easily he commanded everyone’s attention.

  And he thought that women were only after him for his title and money? Did he not see what he was to them? How he fulfilled the secret romantic fantasies that all women had of a charming, handsome, honorable man who would take care of them and worship them like they deserved?

  He even looked the part with his lovely suit. Maria could only stand and watch as if rooted to the spot.

  And then she had thought—or realized, rather—that she would never be one of those women.

  She never could be. For she already owed him so much. He and his sister had taken her in and treated her as family. Who was she to then steal more of his time? To go up to him and hang about him like those ladies did?

  He was to marry one of them, anyway. A sophisticated woman with better family and heritage than Maria had.

  It felt the way that she imagined being struck by lightning felt—in the worst possible sense of the metaphor.

  She wanted to be back at his side. She wanted all those other women to stay away or engage him in conversation only as a friend. She wanted everyone to know that they belonged together. That she was his and he was hers.

  She wanted to be the one that he married.

  Oh, she would be such a good wife, or she would at least try. She knew how to run an estate. It was not so different from a plantation. Miss Reginald had been going over it with her, using the duchy as an example.

  “You will not find an estate nearly so complicated as ours,” Miss Reginald had told her. “And I know these accounts. So we will use those as your instruction so that you might be fully prepared when you are married.”

  She knew how to run it all. She’d make sure he never had reason to take it all in hand or to panic. She would read books to him or let him read books to her. She could soothe h
is aches after a long day of riding or tramping around his lands to check on the tenants.

  She would do everything in her power to make him happy. She knew that she would. And in making him happy, she would be happy.

  But he did not want a drab girl such as her. She was too tan. Too plain. Too honest and boorish in her manner. She hardly knew how to survive a ball. How could she be the gracious hostess and society woman that he would need?

  No, he could never want a girl such as herself. He looked at her as a little sister. His protectiveness and thoughtfulness were lovely, but she was the one making them something romantic. That was all on her.

  Maria could only hope fervently that he never found out about her feelings. That would surely embarrass him. And then he would seek to speak with her about it. To turn her down properly. Because he was honest and considerate that way.

  Oh, the thought made her throat seize up as if she were about to cry.

  She was hopelessly stuck. She was in love with a man who could never love her back.

  The balls were less enjoyable after that. She couldn’t help but keep Lord Reginald in the corner of her vision. It was as though she were attached to him somehow by a string or a magnet. She always seemed to be aware of where he was.

  And wherever Lord Reginald was, his admirers were not far behind.

  She was certain that she was the only person other than his sister who could see how weary the women around him made him.

  He was charming, of course. He laughed at their jokes. He would make jokes of his own. But Maria could see the way his jaw would get more clenched as the evening went on. The way that his arms would grow gradually stiffer at his sides. How he would initiate conversations or share his own jokes less and less.

  They wore him out. And Maria wanted nothing more than to shoo them all away. To tell them that he was done for the night and to take him home to rest.

  But of course she had no right to that. And he had to stay. Both because of his position in society and in his mission to find a wife. But it felt so terribly unfair to him.

  And unfair to her, to have to watch him go through this. But she knew that was all on her. He had not asked her to fall in love with him.

  She had to suffer in silence. She could not impose her feelings upon him. And what could she possibly offer him as a wife?

  Maria liked to think that she would emotionally support him. That she would be a good wife to him. But what about her family? Her wealth? There were other women who had far more to commend them in that aspect. And that was what Lord Reginald had to think about.

  She tried to find interest in other men. Truly she did. But she found that she kept searching in them for qualities that Lord Reginald possessed. She was straining to hear his laugh in theirs. To see his eyes, his smile, in their faces.

  At least it was good to have a yardstick, she supposed. Something by which she could measure how well a man would do for her.

  She thought of what she liked in Lord Reginald. There was his charm and wit, of course. But she also liked his honesty and his forthrightness. She appreciated that he cared so much about his estate and his tenants. She liked that he preferred a quiet evening with books and conversation to balls.

  Although she did enjoy the balls, she also found them no less exhausting. Miss Reginald assured her that she would not have to attend so many once she was married.

  “It is only when you are seeking to find a husband that you will need to go to as many as you can,” she had explained.

  But Maria thought that a quiet evening of cards and reading was preferable to balls. Lord Reginald seemed to think so as well.

  She needed to find a man who possessed those qualities, she thought, if she had even a hope of being happy with him as her future husband.

  But until then—until she could replace Lord Reginald in her heart with someone else—the balls just made her unhappy. She could see how unfit she was to be a potential bride. But she couldn’t stop her heart from wanting him.

  That particular night, it felt like too much. Lord Reginald was laughing at something that one young lady had said. Maria knew that it was probably exaggerated. He was always exaggerating how amused he was by a lady so as not to insult them.

  But she couldn’t stop the pang in her heart all the same.

  As the dance ended, she asked her partner to please escort her to the ladies’ room so that she might freshen up.

  She hoped for a moment of privacy, a place to acknowledge her sorrow and then move on from it.

  A bit of water to her face and neck helped to cool her down and make it look less like she was upset. A glance in the mirror reminded her of what she was: as good as nobody.

  Her dress was nice. It was a lovely pale pink color, almost white. White dresses in this cut were quite in fashion at the moment. But Miss Reginald had told her never to copy the fashion exactly. And so she had dressed herself in the palest peach and Maria in the palest pink, but had both dresses follow the popular cut.

  She thought she looked nice in it. At least until she saw how all the other ladies were dressed.

  Then she was reminded that she was nothing more than a drab sparrow trying to dress up in the peacock’s feathers.

  “Get a hold of yourself,” Maria told her reflection. “Nobody likes a girl who mopes.”

  She must be the life of the party if she was to convince a man to marry her.

  As she exited the room, she nearly ran smack into Miss Hennings.

  She had a distinct suspicion that this was not a coincidence.

  Over the past few balls the young lady had made every effort to cause Maria to feel miserable and out of place. She would have thought that such behavior was above a lady of her own and Miss Hennings’ age. Perhaps a girl of fifteen could get away with being callous and small-minded but a lady of eighteen or so ought to be more mature and compassionate than that.

  Miss Hennings clearly did not care. Maria suspected that it was as the older ladies had told her: that she was envious of how much time Maria got to spend with Lord Reginald.

  The Countess of Wistershire had confided in Maria at a previous ball that Miss Hennings was set upon marrying Lord Reginald.

  “Her family are all ambitious like that,” the Countess had said. “They must be encouraging her. She will settle for nothing less than the richest and most titled man she can lay her hands on. And right now, that is your lord.”

  Maria did not know how to tell the Countess, or anyone, that Lord Reginald was the farthest thing from ‘her’ lord. But the older ladies all insisted upon calling him that when referencing him to her.

  It was rather embarrassing. She wasn’t at all sure what they meant by that. Or by the significant looks they would give when Lord Reginald would come find her to dance with her.

  He always gave her one dance a night. It was only expected of him, given their acquaintance and that she was in a way his unofficial ward, living under his roof.

  But he did not have to dance with her. It was a great kindness, and certainly helped to keep her social status up.

  He would always check in with her while they danced. He would ask if she had eaten and drunk enough. Made sure she was not too cold, offered to fetch her shawl if she was—“for I know this climate does not agree with your Caribbean sensibilities”—asked her if everyone was being kind to her.

  In short, he would make sure that she was all right. He seemed genuinely concerned for her. As if she would have been eaten by wolves the moment that his back was turned.

  But while it was kind and she treasured each moment spent with him, it was nothing more than his duty. He had promised her father that he would take care of her. And that was precisely what he was doing.

  She couldn’t see it as anything more than that. That way lay madness.

  But now as she exited the ladies’ room she was staring into the pale, smooth face of Miss Hennings.

  That Miss Hennings was beautiful, Maria had no doubts. She had lovely dark
blonde hair and wide blue eyes. Her skin was pale and smooth and rather like china in that it gave the impression of being glazed and fragile. It was a look that suited her. She had a fine figure, and a lovely smile when she was being flirtatious.

  Right now, however, that smile was sharp and ugly. Like a rat.

  “What a coincidence that we should run into each other at this moment!” she said. “I was just talking about you with some other young ladies.”

  Maria forced herself to smile. “Oh?”

  Miss Hennings looked her up and down, then shook her head and clucked her tongue. “My dear, you really must learn to control your facial expressions better.”