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

by Ashtyn Newbold

  “Lord Ramsbury, welcome to Pengrave! And welcome, Mr. Beaumont.” He turned to Edward. “I must confess I did not think you would come.”

  Edward laughed, a sound he hadn’t heard himself make in days. Philip had not seen him for over a month, a time when he had been in his most pitiful state. Edward greeted Lady Seaford with a nod before turning his attention back to Philip. “I couldn’t miss witnessing your humiliation,” he said. “How could a man as ungainly as yourself host a successful ball?”

  Philip chuckled, pulling his wife closer. “I could not. You have your hostess to thank for the preparations.”

  She colored slightly, the red of her cheeks a softer shade than her red hair. “I thought it right to host a ball to introduce us to society. A spring ball was the perfect opportunity, for Philip loves spring.”

  A new voice came from behind Edward, one he recognized. Adam Claridge stepped around him, moving to greet Philip. Edward turned, his eyes falling on Amelia, the former Miss Buxton. She looked up at him, her brown eyes darting away almost instantly. Adam stopped when he saw Edward, a hardness forming in his gaze.

  Henry exchanged a look of concern with Edward, knowing full well that this was the woman who had broken Edward’s heart the previous year.

  Edward knew why Adam Claridge was not fond of him. The year before, Adam’s sister Eleanor had entered a secret marriage with a man of the regiment, leaving her family to wonder where she had gone. As a friend of the officer, Edward had been sworn to secrecy on their whereabouts. In Adam’s search, he had enlisted Amelia to help glean information from Edward, which had been the only reason she had pretended to have an interest in him.

  Adam still seemed to blame Edward for his sister’s disappearance, but much of his dislike also came from Edward’s former adoration of his wife.

  Edward glanced at Amelia again, his gaze flickering to her hand, resting on her growing belly. She avoided his gaze, guilt over her deceit still hovering in her features. He examined his heart for any attachment to her, any sorrow over seeing her with Mr. Claridge, but felt nothing. All he felt within his heart was a longing for Grace—the pain of losing her.

  “Good evening, Mr. Claridge. Mrs. Claridge.” Edward kept his voice polite, no bitterness within him. He turned to Adam, who regarded him coldly. “I hope my information leading to your sister found you well. I apologize sincerely for withholding it. I could not betray my friend.”

  Adam cleared his throat. “I have not received word from Eleanor since last summer.”

  Edward frowned. “She has not written at all? Have you met her husband?”

  “No.”

  Amelia touched Adam’s arm, whispering something to him. His expression softened, and he gave Edward a curt nod before turning away, engaging Lord and Lady Seaford in conversation once again.

  Amelia stepped forward, hesitant and slow. “I hope you understand, my lord, that I am very sorry for my deceit. I should not have led you to believe…” her voice trailed off and she looked down at the floor.

  He gave her a soft smile. “I forgive you. You acted in behalf of the man you loved,” he nodded toward Adam. “I too have done foolish things for love.” His eyes lifted, settling across the room, where Grace stood with her sister, her gaze surveying the crowd. His stomach turned over.

  Until Amelia spoke again, he had nearly forgotten she stood before him. She smiled, a weight lifting from her eyes. “Thank you. I wish you every happiness, my lord.”

  “You as well.” He dropped his head in a nod, bidding her farewell. She returned to her husband’s side. The two spoke with Philip for a moment before disappearing into the crowd. Henry became engaged in conversation with a gentleman of his acquaintance, leaving Edward alone with Lord and Lady Seaford.

  Philip raised his eyebrows, stepping toward Edward once more. “You endured that encounter quite well. I am impressed.”

  Edward shook his head. “I no longer feel any affection for Amelia.”

  Philip’s eyes widened. “And what has brought about this change?”

  He looked down, suddenly embarrassed to be speaking with Philip Honeyfield on such matters. “I have been foolish enough to fall in love.”

  “Ah… a foolish endeavor indeed.”

  Lady Seaford pinched his arm, a playful scowl on her brow.

  He laughed, staring down at her. “But a worthy one.” Philip’s eyes raised to Edward. “Who is this lady? Is an engagement on the rise?”

  “No.”

  “And why not?”

  Edward sighed. He didn’t know why he felt the need to explain the situation to Philip. “It is a lengthy tale, my friend. You must save time to converse with your other guests.”

  “Now I am very curious.”

  “As am I,” Lady Seaford agreed.

  Edward rubbed one side of his face. The eager eyes of both Philip and his wife stared at him. They would not be satisfied with anything but the truth. So he relayed it all, from the day he first found Grace in the woods to the day he proposed a second time.

  Philip did not hide his dismay throughout much of the story, shaking his head in wonder as Edward finished.

  “I—er—” Philip laughed. “That is quite the quandary.”

  “What shall I do?” Edward said, not appreciating the humor Philip found in the situation.

  Philip cocked his head back. “Are you asking me for advice?”

  “Yes,” Edward grumbled.

  Philip chuckled, thoroughly amused by the notion. When he had first received word that he was to become a marquess, he had come to Edward for advice on how to behave in society as a titled gentleman, and how to woo the woman on his arm. Edward’s advice had obviously worked in Philip’s favor, as the public seemed to adore him, just as his wife did.

  “Very well.” Philip squared his shoulders, far too pleased with Edward’s request. “She obviously doubts your devotion.”

  “Yes. But I cannot imagine why. I have been quite clear.” He sighed in frustration. “But it does not matter. I plan to find a different woman to marry before my father’s death.” He kept his voice low to ensure he would not be overheard.

  “You cannot do that!” Philip said. “Do not give up! You must keep your inheritance and the woman you love. There will be no compromise.”

  Edward stared ahead, his gaze finding Grace once again. Her eyes met his across the room, a blush racing across her cheeks before she looked away. She couldn’t be indifferent, he knew it. Then why did she refuse him? The question baffled him.

  Philip leaned forward. “Have you kissed her?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Philip!” his wife said. “You mustn’t encourage such a thing. And certainly not with so many guests that may hear you.”

  He grinned.

  Edward narrowed his eyes, refusing to admit that no, he had not. But he did not need Philip Honeyfield encouraging him to kiss Grace. He did not need any encouragement. If a kiss is what could change her mind, then devil take it, he would kiss her, no matter the consequence.

  A woman with a bronze turban and tightly curled hair stepped up beside Edward, offering a bow. He recognized her immediately from the hours she had spent at Clemsworth for tea with his mother.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Reed,” he said. “Allow me to introduce you to Lord and Lady Seaford.”

  She gave a deep nod, her smile wide with excitement as she regarded them. “I thank you for your kindness in extending your invitation to my family.”

  Lady Seaford returned her smile.

  Mrs. Reed returned her attention to Edward. Only then did he notice the young lady hovering behind her, auburn curls twisted in a knot atop her head, little pearls mixed among them. The young lady looked down at the ground as she stepped forward, her eyes darting around as if she were terrified to be seen near him. Only then did Edward notice Miss Darby, standing several feet behind, shooting daggers at Miss Reed’s back with her gaze, her hand wrapped dangerously tight around a champagne flute.

  �
�Come now, my dear,” Mrs. Reed scowled, tugging her daughter forward by the elbow. “Might I make known to you, my lord, my eldest daughter, Miss Elizabeth Reed.”

  Edward smiled to be polite, but the idea of pursuing Miss Reed now felt completely implausible. When he had met Grace’s eyes across the room, he had seen that she was not indifferent. She was afraid, she was doubtful, but not indifferent. Mingled with Philip’s words of encouragement, Edward felt his hope lifting again, despite all odds.

  He had promised Miss Reed a dance, so a dance he would give. But the moment it was over he would find Grace.

  He would discover the truth of her aloofness toward him.

  And he would make certain she knew, without a doubt, the truth of his feelings toward her.

  CHAPTER 16

  “P erhaps it is not as it seems,” Harriett said in an attempt to console her sister.

  Grace watched as Lord Ramsbury led Miss Reed to the center of the ballroom at the start of the quadrille, a tight ball of dread forming in her stomach.

  “Perhaps he is simply being kind. She was in need of a partner.” Harriett chewed her lip as she followed Grace’s gaze. It seemed even Harriett knew her explanations were in vain.

  Grace swallowed back the emotion that rose in her throat. “It is not so. Miss Darby’s words have practically been proven.” Her voice sounded unfamiliar to her own ears, broken and defeated. “I should not have come.”

  “Do not say that, Grace. We might still make the evening enjoyable. You must find another gentleman of your acquaintance to dance with. Henry Beaumont, perhaps? Then we might see if it stirs up envy in Lord Ramsbury.”

  Grace shook her head. “I am finished with this game. I will not be a player in it any longer.”

  Harriett sighed. “I shall speak to Miss Darby directly. I will coerce the truth out of her, even if I must threaten one of her precious cats to do it.”

  “Do not. It is no longer necessary.” Grace felt the rush of heartbreak, stinging in her chest and moving through her limbs, out to the tips of her fingers. She had never been special, and she had never been wanted. She was merely one of many, a single flower among a garden. Her eyes stung with tears as she watched Edward smile down at Miss Reed, turning and spinning to the lively music.

  The song was drawing to a close. As much as she wanted to, she could not tear her gaze away from him. She had missed his teasing smiles and infectious laughter this week. She had spent the week before the ball keeping as busy as she could, trying to forget him. But all she had achieved was a greater longing for him. She had missed him terribly, and she hated herself for it.

  His eyes, clear blue in the candlelight, met hers above the head of his partner. The last notes of the dance hung in the air, and he bowed to Miss Reed. When his head raised, his eyes found her again.

  Unable to stay in the room for another moment, Grace muttered an unintelligible excuse to her sister before threading through the crowd and out the ballroom door. She did not care how improper it was to be wandering the halls alone. She could not bear to see Edward share another dance, and another, with the other woman he had managed to trick.

  She passed several paintings in the deserted halls as she rushed as far from the ballroom as possible. Distant footsteps grew faster behind her, becoming louder.

  “Grace,” a voice called.

  Edward’s voice.

  She stiffened, catching her breath at a nearby doorway. Her throat constricted and her heart built a new barrier. She turned to face him, her pulse pounding in her ears.

  Edward stopped several feet away, his eyes soft and careful. “Grace… where are you going?”

  “Please keep your distance, my lord. We must not be seen together alone.” She turned around, continuing her aimless walk down the vast hallway. His footsteps followed her, even faster this time. They rounded a corner near the lineage portraits, and Grace stopped. The short hall ended abruptly at a closed door, with no other place for her to turn.

  “Look at me,” he said, touching her shoulder. “Please.”

  She drew a heavy breath. To look at him now would be dangerous—detrimental to her plan to stay away from him, to not allow him to charm her into foolishness again. She remained firm in her conviction, facing the door.

  His voice came again, soft, pleading. “I have been tormented this week by our last meeting. I must know why you refused me so plainly. What have I done to earn such a rejection?”

  Crossing her arms, she retained as much fortitude as she was able before turning around. He tipped his head down to look at her, searching her eyes. The windows from the adjacent hall provided just enough moonlight to decipher his features, painted gray in the darkness, the glint of his eyes reflecting regret.

  “You lied to me,” she said, her voice cracking as tears escaped her. “I am not the only woman you flirt with. I am not the only one you wish to marry. Your game has not ended, and I believe it never shall. You are just as I suspected you to be—just as you were those years ago. You have no regard for my feelings, nor any qualms in toying with my heart. I will not be treated in such a way.”

  His brow contracted. He stepped forward, raising his hand to Grace’s cheek, swiping away her tears. The action only brought more, choking her with quiet sobs.

  “How can you not see that I am in love with you?”

  Her eyes shot up to his. She wanted to believe it, desperately, but she didn’t know how.

  “You said you would lose a thousand wagers before you would marry me.” He held her face between both his hands now. “I would lose my inheritance a thousand times before I would marry another. I will wait for you, Grace, as long as you require. I will spend my life trying to convince you if that is what I must do.”

  She shook her head, unable to speak past the tears that shook her.

  His expression tightened. “There is something you are not telling me. Please.” He smoothed back the hair that stuck to her cheeks.

  What would he do if he discovered she knew of his scheme? Would he abandon her there in the hall and rush back to the arms of Miss Reed?

  “I s-spoke to Miss Darby. She saw us by the w-water.” Grace composed herself, her crossed arms pulling tighter. “She told me she saw you with Miss Reed the day before, and that you kissed her. And then I saw you at the ball, dancing with her, and I was certain that—”

  He shook his head, his eyes wide. “That is not true. I did dance with Miss Reed, but that was the first time I had ever made her acquaintance.”

  “What?” Grace’s voice was hushed.

  Edward took her hands firmly in his. “I do not know why Miss Darby would concoct such a story, but I assure you, it is not true. You have my word, Grace.”

  She studied his expression, her heart pounding. “How can I be certain of anything?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

  “I am certain of many things,” he said. “I am certain that I have no attachment to Miss Reed, nor any other lady, with the exception of you. I am certain that I love you, and that I wish to marry you.” His eyebrows turned down, his mouth clenching as he clung to her hands. “I will only ask you one last time. If you still wish to be left alone, I will obey. I have much to offer you that will benefit your family and your own living. Even if that is all you desire, I still extend it to you. I only hope it will bring you the happiness you deserve, even if I cannot.” He drew a breath, bringing her fingers to his lips. “But my sincerest hope is that you will have me, and all my faults, as your own. That you will come to love me.”

  Grace could scarcely breathe as she considered his words. As tempting as they were, her mind still burned with uncertainty. “How is your father’s health?” she asked, her voice careful.

  He appeared surprised by her change of subject. “He is predicted to live only a week longer, perhaps less.”

  “And so you have become desperate.”

  He dropped her hands, exhaling in exasperation. “I have never met a more stubborn—” He took a pace away from her, brea
thing deeply. “I do not know what else to say. I have poured my heart out to you, Grace. I have declared my love for you, yet it is not enough. Yes, my father is soon to die, but I will always want you. I would want you even if my father had placed no stipulation upon me.”

  Grace set her jaw. “You cannot know that for certain.”

  He raked his hand over his hair, half his mouth lifting in a smile of disbelief. “Are you refusing my proposal again?”

  The air grew taut between them, and Grace shivered, craving the warmth of him, the comfort of his closeness. How could she refuse the option to have him near for her entire life? Even with unanswered questions, she could not refuse him. Not directly. But she could not trust her emotions at present. She needed time to realign them—apart from Edward and his piercing blue eyes. She released a quaking breath. “I will—I will consider it.”

  He stared at her, unblinking. “You will consider it? Have I not given you long enough to consider it?”

  Defense rose within her, snapping like a whip. “At least I am not refusing.”

  “You are only considering it because you need my fortune, and your mother desires for you to be a countess.” His voice was quiet, filled with hurt.

  “No—”

  “Do not deny it. I heard your conversation with your mother after my last proposal.” His voice had hardened. “You see me as a relentless stealer of hearts, eager to break yours. You are afraid of that. And my greatest fear has always been to be loved only for my title and fortune.”

  Grace scowled. “A lady must consider such things when choosing a husband.”

  “Then your decision should be swift. If that is all you desire, then you ought to answer me now, before my father dies and I lose that which you desire.”

  Grace’s breath shook on the way out, and she stopped the words she meant to say. Edward could be a fisherman and she would still love him.

  Anger rose inside her at his assumptions of her character. She was not a fortune hunter; she was an advocate of love in a marriage, and that was why she feared marrying him. She could not decipher what was truth and what were lies. She was surrounded by an abundance of both.