Romancing Lord Ramsbury: A Regency Romance (Brides of Brighton Book 3)

by Ashtyn Newbold

  “I read it to Juliet often,” he said, taking the volume from her hand. “It is quite fascinating.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, as if she had already determined his words to be false.

  “Are you the lady Edward is going to marry?” Juliet asked, her head tipped up toward Miss Grace.

  Edward gave a hard laugh, stepping in front of his sister before she could say anything else. Juliet peeked around him, gazing up at Miss Grace once again. “You are just as pretty as he said you were.”

  Miss Grace frowned, her gaze darting between Edward and his sister. “That is very kind of you to say,” she said to Juliet. “But I am not marrying your brother. You must have mistaken me for another lady.” Her gaze rose to Edward’s, a smirk hovering on her rosy lips.

  He pinched his eyes shut before glancing down at Juliet, whose brow scrunched with confusion over the trouble she had caused.

  He searched his mind for suitable words to explain Juliet’s statements but could find none. What was wrong with him? Awkwardness hung in the air between him and both Weston ladies, thick and unrelenting. After a long moment of excruciating silence, the elder Miss Weston tugged on her sister’s arm, pulling her gaze away from Edward.

  “We mustn’t be late,” she said in a whisper.

  Miss Grace nodded, throwing him one more glance before following her sister back to the path. “Good day, my lord. I hope you enjoy the story, Miss Juliet.” She offered his sister a kind smile before sweeping her skirts up behind her, following her elder sister up the bank.

  The confidence he had felt that morning transformed to frustration. If Miss Grace had not caught him by surprise he would have been able to appear collected and charming. Why had she chosen to take the path past Clemsworth to her destination? He was never such a stuttering niddicock. Deuce take it.

  Juliet tugged on his sleeve, and he looked down at her. He pressed his fingertips to his forehead. “Yes?”

  “I do not think she wishes to marry you.”

  He exhaled, long and slow, laughing at the solemnity of Juliet’s expression. “Truly? What led you to that conclusion?”

  “She looked at you the way you look at cucumber soup.”

  Edward wanted to laugh, but her comparison was painfully accurate. He despised cucumber soup, and Miss Grace despised him. He fixed his gaze on her as she grew smaller in the distance, engaged in deep conversation with her sister. He wondered what sorts of terrible things she was saying about him.

  “Opinions are capable of changing,” he said.

  Juliet shook her head. “I do not think you will ever like cucumber soup.”

  “Do you think Miss Grace will ever like me?” He didn’t know why he was relying on the wisdom of a child.

  She tipped her head to the side, her eyes rising to the heavens in thought. “No.”

  Edward gritted his teeth. He was beginning to think Juliet was right, but he refused to allow an awkward chance encounter ruin his opportunity. Miss Grace had smirked at him just now as if she were still winning their game. He would need to change that at once.

  He grumbled to himself as Juliet began tracing drawings in the sand, humming an unfamiliar tune. The next time he saw Miss Grace, he would ensure that he was prepared.

  CHAPTER 7

  Sitting in the parlor of Uncle Cornelius’s house, Grace awaited the dreaded questioning of her uncle regarding her proposal from Lord Ramsbury. Fortunately her parents still hadn’t learned of her wager with Harriett, so when she told them of her rejection of Lord Ramsbury, they were only confused, if not very disappointed that she would not become a countess. But Uncle Cornelius did not yet know of her refusal.

  Grace had convinced Harriett to accompany her to their Uncle’s house for dinner. The invitation had been extended to their entire family, but their parents were bound by prior invitations.

  Unfortunately, Lord Ramsbury’s residence of Clemsworth lay directly between Weston Manor and their uncle’s home, so it had only been mildly surprising to find Lord Ramsbury on the nearby beach. But to see him chasing after his young sister with fistfuls of wet sand had certainly been a surprise.

  “At least we know that Lord Ramsbury genuinely finds you beautiful,” Harriett said, crossing her hands in her lap. “Even if he did only pretend to be in love with you.”

  Grace felt her cheeks warm. Her mind had been spinning for the last day, replaying her conversation with Lord Ramsbury in the drawing room over and over. She had won her wager with Harriett. So why did she still feel as if she were losing in an entirely different battle?

  “His sister was very young,” she said. “She must have mistaken me for another woman.”

  “I do not think so.”

  Grace tried to ignore her sister’s words, but they twisted and writhed inside her, making her feel things she didn’t want to feel. Lord Ramsbury had seemed… different on the beach. His interaction with his sister had been disconcerting at first, but it became clear that he was merely playing a game with her. Much like he had been playing a game with Grace.

  She shook her thoughts of him. She had no need to interact with him ever again, so there was no reason to dwell on him any longer. It was Harriett’s courtship that would now be at the forefront of their family’s attention.

  Pulling her lips into a grin, Grace leaned over the edge of the brocade sofa, leaning her chin on her hand as she stared at her sister.

  “What are you staring at?” Harriett eyed her with suspicion.

  “I am staring at the future Mrs. William Harrison.”

  With a groan, Harriett covered her face, slumping in her armchair in a most unladylike fashion. “How do you expect me to initiate a courtship with him? And three meetings? The public will hear of it and assume a marriage is imminent. My reputation could very well be ruined when I put an end to our courtship after such a long time.”

  “You will not put an end to the courtship because you will be desperately in love with him.”

  She exhaled through puffed cheeks. “Grace Weston, you are infuriating.”

  “Lord Ramsbury is infuriating.”

  Harriett sat up. “Well, it seems the two of you are designed for one another. It is my turn to act as matchmaker.”

  Grace gasped. “We are not!”

  “Ponder over it for a moment. Both of you acted with the intent to deceive the other, and both of you had no qualms about pursuing someone for your own gain. You are both stubborn and prideful and cunning, if not very endearing when seen in the correct light. If Lord Ramsbury were a female, he would be named Miss Grace Weston.”

  Grace’s pride stung, a testament to her sister’s words. Was she really as prideful as Lord Ramsbury? Her pride was what ultimately led her to accept Harriett’s wager in the first place. She had been unable to accept that her sister didn’t see her as an expert in romance, and she had acted with despicable vengeance. Perhaps she was becoming more like Lord Ramsbury than she had ever wanted to be.

  For the first time in a long while, Grace acted with a bit of intelligence, choosing not to refute her sister.

  She had been a fool of the most foolish sort.

  It was fortunate that her courtship with Lord Ramsbury hadn’t progressed further than it did. If society had begun to gossip of it, she would have hurt her own reputation while trying to defend her pride and scathe the man that hurt her three years before. Three years was a long time to keep grievances stirring in one’s heart. It did awful things to their character. Grace was living proof of it.

  Sickened with herself, Grace chewed the nail of her thumb in silence.

  Uncle Cornelius walked through the doorway, flustered as he straightened his cravat. With his thin hair sprouting over the top of his head, he resembled the sand reed growing outside by the ocean.

  “Our guests will be arriving at any moment.” He glanced out the window, his eyes glowing with anticipation.

  “Guests?” Grace asked.

  “Yes, your aunt Christine and uncle Richard
. And… a few others.” He gave a heavy sigh, tossing her a grin. “I hoped to surprise you. Will you allow me to do that?”

  Her heart pounded. She had learned that her uncle often revealed secrets through his eyes. Whether it was a glow of mischief, a sheen of sadness, or a spark of anger, she knew him to be unable to mask a single emotion he felt. As she stared into his eyes now, she found every sign of mischief, and a gleeful excitement that could only mean one thing.

  “I invited your betrothed to dine with us. His mother, Lady Coventry, and a brother and sister will be joining us as well. Lord Coventry is ill, as you know, and was unable to join. My cook has prepared a fine meal of roasted turkey to celebrate your engagement.”

  A rush of faintness flooded Grace’s head, and her vision spun. “You invited Lord Ramsbury?”

  No. It could not be true.

  “Indeed.” Her uncle frowned. “Are you not pleased?”

  No. No. No.

  “Are you unwell, my dear?”

  She pressed her palm to her forehead, the sickness in her stomach spreading, contracting the muscles in her legs. She doubted she could stand when their guests entered the drawing room.

  To her credit, Harriett came to Grace’s rescue. “Uncle, you must know, Grace did not accept Lord Ramsbury’s proposal of marriage. To have him join us here will be quite, dare I say… awkward.”

  “Excruciatingly awkward,” Grace added, composing herself enough to speak.

  Uncle Cornelius’s eyes now resembled saucers, round and glassy. “I see. Oh, dear. Oh, dear.” He paced in front of the window. “I cannot turn them away now.”

  “We will leave before they arrive.” Grace jumped to her feet, her cream skirts tangling between her shaking legs. She gave her uncle a rueful smile. “I hope you will understand.”

  “Of course, my dear. But why did you reject him? I thought you to be well suited to one another.”

  Grace now understood Harriett’s aversion to the overuse of the term well suited. Her uncle craved details, and would never let them escape before he received an answer to his question.

  “I find him infuriating,” she said with a shrug. It was time she learned to be honest.

  Uncle Cornelius took her words with great surprise, pressing a hand to his chest. “That is no reason to reject him. Certainly my late wife found me infuriating at times, may she rest in peace. But that did not stop her from loving me.”

  Grace could not win the argument. Her gaze slid to the window, halting on the carriage that had just stopped on the drive. They were too late to escape. She took to chewing her nails with renewed vigor, enough that Harriett stepped up beside her, gripping her wrist in order to pull her hand from her anxious teeth.

  “Fate acts in mysterious ways, sister.”

  “Please never say that again.” Grace’s heart lurched in her throat as Lord Ramsbury stepped down from the carriage, lifting little Juliet out behind him.

  “Now you understand how I feel when you prattle on about Mr. Harrison,” Harriett said with masked spite.

  “Hush.” Grace turned away from the window, her cheeks flushing. “How is my hair?”

  Harriett raised an amused eyebrow.

  “Oh, never mind. I don’t care what that man thinks of my hair.” She crossed her arms, reclaiming her seat on the sofa, returning her attention to her uncle. “Did Lord Ramsbury know that Harriett and I had also received invitations this evening?”

  He blinked. “Well, no, I suppose not. I extended the invitation with the intent to further acquaint myself with him, to decipher his worthiness of you. Only after I knew he proposed did I invite your family. His arrival was meant to be a pleasant surprise.”

  It was a surprise, but not a pleasant one. Grace drew a deep breath, hiding behind the half-drawn drapes as Lord Ramsbury, along with his family, ascended the front steps. She considered throwing herself between the butler and the front door, but her legs refused to move. All she could do was stand with tense shoulders and hope that Lord Ramsbury wouldn’t assume she had orchestrated this dinner party when he found her standing in the parlor.

  “Do not allow him to see that you are unsettled,” Harriett whispered as the sound of the front door opening reached them.

  “I am not unsettled.” Grace’s voice came out too defensive.

  Harriett didn’t appear convinced. Like a loyal sister, she seemed inclined to ease Grace’s burden as much as she could. Harriett stepped slightly in front of Grace, hiding her from immediate view as Lady Coventry and her family were announced in the doorway.

  Steadying herself, Grace stepped away from the protection of her sister, willing herself to appear more confident than she felt.

  Lady Coventry entered the parlor first, her genteel air and pleasant smile providing Grace with a hint of comfort. Her features held curiosity and joy, with blue eyes and delicate features like her young daughter. Her age showed in the silvery strands entering her pale hair, and in the smiling creases at her eyes.

  Mr. Henry Beaumont stopped as he noticed Grace and her sister standing there. His brows raised and his gaze slid uncomfortably to his brother as he entered the room.

  Grace’s breathing came to a momentary halt. Lord Ramsbury had changed his clothing since she had seen him at the beach, choosing a pale green waistcoat and pure white cravat. His hair appeared to have been untouched, mussed and falling over his forehead. Yet somehow the style suited him, a devil-may-care approach to his appearance that few men could execute well.

  She realized with dismay how long she had been staring at him. His jaw contracted when his eyes met hers. For the second time that day, he appeared discomposed and surprised at the sight of her. He stayed near the doorway as Uncle Cornelius made introductions around the room.

  Her poor uncle had never appeared more uncollected, stumbling over his words of introduction. When he reached Lord Ramsbury, he gestured at Grace, his face contorting in thought over the proper words.

  “We have been acquainted,” Lord Ramsbury said, his eyes fixed on hers.

  “Yes, of course,” her uncle stuttered, clapping his hands together. “My sister and brother-in-law will be arriving soon.” His anxious gaze traveled to the window, where the couple’s gig had stopped in the drive. “Ah! There they are now.”

  Grace avoided Lord Ramsbury’s constant gaze, keeping hers fixed out the window as well, watching Aunt Christine and Uncle Richard as they descended lazily from their seats.

  Hurry! Grace demanded in her mind, wishing her slothful aunt and uncle could hear it. She couldn’t bear the awkwardness of the room any longer. She wished for a fan with which to cool her burning cheeks, the intensity of Lord Ramsbury’s stare heating them beyond what was comfortable.

  When her aunt and uncle finally entered the house, Grace was glad to hear Uncle Cornelius’s hasty introductions. “That is all, then,” he said, a sheen of perspiration on his brow. “I believe our first course awaits. Shall we remove to the dining room?”

  Mr. Beaumont seemed to understand the awkwardness of the party. His brother had undoubtedly informed him of Grace’s harsh rejection. Lady Coventry’s expression remained pleasant as she surveyed the furnishings of the room, oblivious to the tension that permeated the parlor. She followed Uncle Cornelius out of the parlor, her daughter in tow. Aunt Christine clutched her husband’s arm and marched toward the dining room, ever the eager dinner guest.

  Escorted by Mr. Beaumont, Harriett left Grace’s side, leaving her to the mercy of Lord Ramsbury.

  Grace’s heart pounded as he approached her. Where was the fortitude she had felt at her own home when faced with his proposal? It was gone, along with her resolve to hate him. He was her equal in honor of character, just as Harriett had said. If she had no hope for his redemption then she had no hope for her own. She couldn’t continue hating him. But that did not mean she had to enjoy his company.

  It took her a moment to realize his arm was extended to her. She swallowed past her dry throat, flashing her gaze up to h
is. She didn’t know what she had expected to see on his face, but the possibility of a polite smile had not crossed her mind. She blinked in surprise.

  “I did not expect to find you here, nor did I expect Lord Hove to be your uncle,” he said, amusement in his voice.

  She shook herself of the confusion she felt at his expression. “I did not know your family had received his invitation.”

  “Why did your uncle invite me here?”

  Grace tugged at her gloves, seeking a distraction from his unrelenting stare. Why must he look at her so intently? “He assumed that I accepted your proposal and that we were happily engaged.” Taking his arm with a tentative touch, she told herself not to notice the obvious breadth of the muscle beneath his jacket. She noticed anyway.

  “How wrong he was.”

  “Indeed.”

  Lord Ramsbury chuckled, a deep sound that sent unwelcome shivers over her skin. “How fortuitous that I should find you here. Our brief encounter today at the beach was not long enough. I have been eager to see you again.”

  She scowled. “Have you?” Surely he wasn’t serious.

  “I must offer my sincere apology.”

  She stared at the group ahead as they walked, unwilling to look at his eyes. “For what misdeed do you mean to apologize?”

  “For all my misdeeds toward you. And there have been many.”

  She glanced up, the temptation too great. He stared into her eyes with a level of sincerity she had never seen on his face. “Please do name them all,” she said. “We have the entire evening.”

  A smile twisted his lips, creasing his cheek with a dimple. “Very well. First, for my great misdeed at the Livingston’s ball. I should not have claimed a dance past the acceptable two dances. I risked your reputation and I toyed with your heart in a most despicable manner. I am sincerely sorry. I hope to have put that man in the past, along with the ridiculous idea that ending my acquaintance with you was wise.” A note of flirtation hung in his voice, subtle and jarring.

  What game was he playing? “Well, I thought I had ended my acquaintance with you yesterday in the drawing room at my family’s residence.” Grace cringed. Why could she not simply accept his apology, whether he meant it or not? Her sardonic behavior had become something of a defense in her efforts to keep her heart far from his careless hands.