An Earl for the desperate bride (Regency Romance) (Regency Tales Book 1) (5 page)

Eliza’s eyes widened as she stared at the ring. It was a single solitaire, oval, deep blue, sapphire ring, surrounded by at least twelve minor white diamonds. She could but stare at it with an open mouth. Where had Stephen stolen this from? The ring did not belong to a family of stable hands.

“What have you done Stephen, where is this from?” she asked him.

“This ring,” Stephen—continued as if she had not spoken, “has been in the Ravencroft family for generations. It is our practice for the Earl of Arnhem to give it to his affianced bride.”

Eliza’s gaze shifted from Stephen—to the ring, back and forth, several times as if she would be able to discern the solution to the mystery if she were able to align the jewelled ring with the man who had given it to her.

Stephen mounted his horse. “Lord Sevile, I’ve told you our destination. I anticipate seeing you there.”

“You—you—I don’t believe you! You’ve contrived a ridiculous fairy tale to hoodwink a silly girl.”

Stephen’s laughter rang out. “Follow us and see, my Lord Sevile!”

Their horses were fleet enough that they were easily able to outdistance the thwarted Lord Sevile. After they’d galloped for an hour, Stephen—no, Lord Ravencroft—led his horse to the side of the pathway. Eliza followed suit.

“We can stop briefly if you need to,” he said. “I want us to reach your parents’ home before Lord Savile does. I realize this must be bewildering for you.”

“To fall in love with a stable hand named Stephen only to find out that my husband is the Earl of Arnhem is somewhat unexpected,” she admitted. “But I’m rebounding.”

He smiled. “My sincere apologies for all that you’ve been through, my darling,” he said. “I couldn’t tell you until I’d spoken with my mother, and with your parents. There was much to arrange in very little time. Your parents were quite startled, you must realize; your mother feels very contrite. At one point, she was urging you to marry Lord Sevile, only to return to her house and discover that her former stable hand had just arrived and was proposing to marry her daughter.

I had a letter from my mother, who, you will find, is an indomitable woman. I don’t think your father will be inclined to gamble in the future. My mother in print is nothing compared to my mother in person.”

“But we were going to Gretna Green,” Eliza said in a faint voice. She still couldn’t believe the turn of events. “We were eloping.”

“We were getting away from London,” he corrected. “I was taking us to my mother’s home in Kent, where you would be safe from Lord Sevile. But when he followed us, a change of plans was required. Your parents are in London, and we will join them shortly.”

“Were they amenable to your proposal?”

For all his youth, Stephen Ravencroft had a demeanour that gave evidence of a man who was able to pursue his ends and achieve them. He smiled ironically.

“Once they realized who I was,” he said, “They were most amenable.”

“Thank God. I am so happy. But how and why were you working as a stable hand? I do not understand.” Eliza said.

“My darling, we have met before. It was last year in Bath. You were with your parents and will have no memory of me. But I watched you all night. Right then and there you captured my heart.”

“I did?” she whispered marvelled.

“I wanted to get close to you. Wanted to find out if you could love me as a pauper, so I ensured I was hired by your family. Once I met you I knew my ruse was worth it.”

Eliza sighed. “I felt that you were the only one I could count on,” she told him. “I am so happy you came for me.”

“I won’t fail you, Eliza. When we are blessed with children, we won’t fail them. The promises that I make to you, I can make to the future. I love you and when I realized that you were willing to marry someone you thought was a stable hand, I knew that I had been blessed to fall in love with a most remarkable woman.”

He leaned forward in his saddle. “And so, Miss Eliza, might I have a kiss?”

“You may,” she said, bending toward him. “But only a quick one. I don’t want Lord Savile to catch up to us.”

“You needn’t fear him. He’s of no consequence to our lives. We’re not going to live under the shadow of an overbearing tyrant. You’re safely away from him and so is your family.”

He kissed her. Her lips tasted of innocence and joy.

He ensured she was thoroughly left breathless, before letting her go.

“Come along, Miss Eliza!” Stephen said with a satisfied smile. “There’s more kissing in store once we’re married.”

The End

–

MESMERISING THE DUK
E

The Rogue Duke

The candles in the drawing-room of Shepperton Manor glittered as brightly as the jewellery worn by the ladies dancing beneath it.

Despite the almost illicit nature of the activity being undertaken in the house’s gaming rooms, the ballroom was filled with many of the
ton
, searching for some entertainment in the Buckinghamshire countryside. Those not indulging in a spot of dancing with one fair lady or another, were busy gambling in the nearby rooms.

Their hostess, Lady Archer, had once been a well-to-do dowager, but had fallen on hard times after several gambling misfortunes. But, being ever the entrepreneurial woman, she had taken her
penchant
for card games and made it into a minor business. An activity that would have warranted her exclusion from polite society.

But the
ton
were addicted to a good game of cards.

When Lady Archer had first thrown such a vulgar event, it had been quite the scandal in their local community. However now it was seen as the height of decadency to have attended such a gathering. Known through the county for her gambling soirees, she had turned misfortune to fortune, which had to be admired.

Her gatherings differed in that both women and men could attend, and dancing and socialising was a must. Of course she did charge an entry fee, which was collected ever so discreetly on arrival.

How popular these soirees were could be witnessed by the merriment of the attendees as they swirled across the ballroom to the strains of the Viennese Waltz. It was well known that most of the women attending were some man’s wife and probably another man’s mistress. Or aspiring to be one or the other. This was especially true during her masquerade balls, during the month of love. It was this very event that would draw the most reluctant rake to the countryside. At these times, every sensible matron would remain at home, keeping a close eye on their charge.

Yes, Lady Archer’s was a place for decadent amusement but one gentleman looked conspicuously bored and unmoved by the merriment. His very presence was such that the eyes of almost every woman kept returning to his imposing figure. This scrutiny could have been due to his stature, but more likely than not it was due to the man himself. Douglas Montgomery, the Duke of Staffordshire, commonly referred to as Monty by his friends.

He was not only tall, but also extremely handsome. He had a reputation of leaving a sea of broken hearts wherever he went. Despite this, matrons with aspirations to move up in the world, would not hesitate to throw their daughters at him. Unfortunately for him, this was a frequent occurrence. His reputation did nothing to dissuade them from coveting the title of Duchess for their daughter.

Douglas knew that if he ever found himself in a compromising situation with any of those insipid girls he was done for it. His own sense of honour would demand that he did the right thing. That is why he avoided debutants like the plague. No, he preferred a mature woman. Preferably one that was already married and bored with her husband. The thought brought a cynical smile to the corner of his lips.

He had learnt the hard way that women were not to be trusted. At least his paramours were honest about their desires and what they expected of him. At the thought of his mistress he frowned.

Unfortunately, today he had to undertake the unpleasant task of informing her that their time together was at an end.

He had noticed the first signs of what he could only describe as affection in the lady’s rapport with him. He did not do affection. Douglas would stake his rogue reputation on his skills to satisfy any woman, however emotional satisfaction they had to look for elsewhere. His current liaison was set to get messy as the lady’s husband, the Earl of Chelsford, had recently been named
Lord Steward
. Although Countess Desdemona was an incomparable beauty, she wasn’t worth the hassle of having to tackle with her husband’s displeasure. Besides, as far as Countess Desdemona was concerned, he had grown restless, bordering on bored. Matters had not been helped by the fact that she had sent him three messages last week urging him to come urgently to Buckinghamshire. For what purpose, he did not know, but he would take this opportunity to end their assignations.

It was with quiet discomfort that he saw the Countess glide seductively towards him across the ballroom. Douglas frowned at this outward display. At this rate she would have the gossip tongues wagging before the end of the night. Even at an event such as this, a modicum of discretion was required.

Her elaborate gown with its full skirt, no doubt the latest French style, emphasised her 15 inch waist. The front was cut as low as decency permitted – which was very low indeed. But it served to accentuate her creamy shoulders and her ample bosom. Her mask served only to highlight the curves of her perfect mouth. Where once he would have been mesmerised by the sight, he was instead slightly irritated. Before she reached him, he turned and walked to a nearby alcove. He had no doubt she would follow.

“Douglas,” Desdemona whispered.

“Good evening Countess, how nice to see you in good health,” he replied coldly. It was best to get these matters over with as swiftly as possible in his experience.

“Why so cold my love? Do you not remember the heat of my embrace,” she pouted, while placing her hand on his arm. He promptly disengaged it.

“Desdemona, darling, stop wearing your affections on your sleeves. It is unseemly,” Douglas said in a cold voice.

It finally dawned on the Countess that this was not a secret rendezvous. Annoyed, she wrinkled her perfect forehead.

“Why did you call me here?” the Duke continued.

“Do I need a reason? Do you not long for my company as I crave yours?” she responded, fanning herself.

“No, my lady I do not.” Their gaze locked and it was in that moment the Countess understood she was in the process of being cast aside.

“I take no joy in this conversation,” Douglas resumed. But before he could finish he was abruptly interrupted. The Countess closed her fan violently and looked at him with venom. “My dear Douglas, I will not be cast aside as last night’s stale pastry,” she said and then smiled sweetly.

Douglas sighed deeply, “Surely you did not expect this to last? I have warned you on numerous occasions not to mistake our dalliance for more than a momentary pastime.”

“You
do
mean to cast me aside,” Desdemona said in a disbelieving voice. “Who do you take me for?” Douglas now suspected that their goodbyes were going to be much more tiring than he anticipated.

“I know too well the look you are currently sporting. I had not imagined to be on the receiving end of your scorn,” Desdemona spat. “Mark my words,
Your Grace
, you will feel my wrath and regret your actions today,” she whispered venomously.

Before the matter got completely out of hand, a male voice called the Duke’s name from behind. “Your Grace! So this is where you have been hiding out all night.”

It was with huge relief he welcomed the sight of Lord Nathaniel Hughes, the Viscount of Wiltshire, his nearest and dearest friend. Despite his mask, Nathaniel’s stature and sky-blue eyes were so distinctive, his disguise was unnecessary. The Viscount was impeccably well-dressed. Not a chemise misaligned.

“Countess,” he greeted with a nod. Desdemona spared him not so much as a glance, but instead sailed regally back out to the ballroom.

The moment she was out of sight, Nathaniel’s face cracked a big smile and he clasped hands with his friend.

“Monty, good to see you,” he said with a smile.

“Hughes, I was almost afraid you would leave me standing here with that shrew for another two hours, whilst you busied yourself with your cravat,” his friend replied, with a knowing smile.

“Give it a rest Monty, I get enough of a grilling from the chaps at the club.” Nathaniel removed an imaginary speck of dust from his sleeve.

“Besides, I just saved you from what looked to be a very unpleasant exchange. Not to mention, I am only in this godforsaken countryside hole to lend you a hand.”

“That you are indeed.”

“Is he here?”

“Yes, he is currently occupied in the gaming room.”

“Let’s get to the matter at hand.”

Douglas turned around and started walking back to the main room when he
stopped dead in his tracks. Despite her mask, the cascade of flaming hair from the beauty in the far room, beckoned him like a beacon. He looked in bemusement as the dainty little lady stomped her foot.

“Quite a beauty, old chap,” the Viscount whispered amused, “I wonder what has her so riled up?”

The beauty in question looked furious to say the least. Douglas watched intrigued as the man she was conversing with turned around and walked away. He could only assume this was her lover and he was witnessing an awkward end to their assignation. The woman was exceedingly young to be involved in such matters of the flesh. But based on the outwardly passion she exhibited, he could only imagine she was a hellion between the sheets. He smiled knowingly to himself as he watched her fan her heaving bosom. 

“Monty, we do not have time for this,” Nathaniel warned in an exasperated voice, “we need to focus on this charade you dragged me to, not on some slip of a girl.”

“Not to worry Hughes, I will be with you shortly. Save a space for me at the whist table,” he replied with a distracted smile. Before the Viscount could reply, the Duke started making his way through the crowd, the woman and her ethereal beauty his sole focus.

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