The Rise of a Forsaken Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Read online

  Flipping the book closed, Penelope slid it in place. Her mind flitted back to Mr. Moore. He was very handsome, but she could not focus on anywhere else but his eyes. They were so…gentle.

  “My Lady,” the shy voice of her lady’s maid, Martha, spoke from the door. “It’s luncheon time.”

  “Do I have to change?” Penelope grumbled.

  “Er, not if you don’t want to, but I would think washing your hands would be good. We don’t have company.”

  Sliding the last book in place, Penelope hummed. “Have you seen the newest footman, Mr. Moore?”

  “I have. I was there when Lord Dawson gave him his room and spoke to Mr. Gastrell to get his measurements and arrange his livery.”

  Trying to suppress her blush while they left the library, Penelope asked, “What do you make of him?”

  “Make of him…how?” Martha asked cautiously.

  Groaning internally, Penelope asked, “Do you think he’s…handsome?”

  “If I am not getting out of line…” Martha said as they entered the drawing-room. “I do.”

  Eyeing her maid at her judicious answer, Penelope went to the set table and sat. Observing the assortment of fruit, tiny crustless sandwiches, and sliced cake, she sighed. Edward was prone to working in his study for hours and left her to eat alone. Mr. Gastrell had placed a tiny table at the window, so she would be able to look out to the grounds below.

  After a moment of grace, she poured a glass of lemonade and sipped it. She cut into a thin sandwich, soft with butter and peppery beef, and swallowed it.

  She was taking a sip of her drink when through the window she spotted Mr. Moore. His back was turned to her, and she openly admired his tall, fit form. By the fair bulge in his arms, she knew he was muscular too. To be fair, some of the men she had met in her past two seasons were tall and handsome, but they were sons of peers and did not have muscles.

  Oh, why couldn’t any of the men I had met look like that?

  Her glass lingered at her mouth and she watched a stable hand bring around a horse. The new footman spoke to the young man, then shook his hand before grasping the pommel and hoisting himself up smoothly on the horse. With his chin up and his back ramrod straight, his hand grasping the reins he looked…regal.

  A rich velvet cape and dark hair fluttering in the breeze would befit his posture…he looks like a prince of old.

  Her finger traced the rim of the glass while watched him settle and ride off. He must live a simple life, Penelope mused then sighed. “Not like mine.”

  After she had come of age, Edward had pushed her to get married, but no matter how she tried, not one of the men she met had connected with her on an emotional level. She had come to realize that men of the peerage were linear. There was no speck of mystery or intrigue or even spontaneity. Every man followed the same pattern—meet a lady at a dance, send her flowers the next day, take her to a ride in Hyde Park and then, papers traded between the father and the prospective groom where X’s marked the signature line.

  Frankly, she considered that kind of marriage a step above buying beef in the marketplace, in three cut and dry steps—an item was found, it was haggled over and then bought. After that, there was just…nothing.

  Where was the romance she had read in the books of old? Where were the sacrifices, the almost-insurmountable hardships both the hero and heroine had to conquer before falling into the blissful happily-ever-after? When did the notion of romance die off?

  Unless…desperate pestering was what many men found as an alternative to romance. Case in point, Edward’s closest friend, Stephen Russell, the Baron of Hillbrook. Just thinking of the man made her hand tighten on the glass. Many women would give half of their fortune to have the blond-haired, blue-eyed charmer to give them a moment of his attention. But not her, she got his unwanted attention for free.

  From the very night of her first season, Lord Hillbrook’s advances had not been too overt, but then, he had not been too subtle either. Thank God, the man had taken a trip to America a month ago and given her some breathing room away from his incessant prodding. At first, it had been charming, but now, he was more of an irritant, like a fly that won’t buzz away. Every day she prayed that he would set his sights on marrying another woman, thus escaping his attention.

  “Oh, there you are,” Edward said with a silly grin on his face. “I just got wonderful news, Penelope…Russell is back and is coming for dinner tonight.”

  Her glass nearly dropped out her hand. Dash it all! Instantly, her spirit soured. This had to a joke of cosmic proportions. There she was, happy that the thorn in her side was gone, only to hear that he was coming back that day. Was God laughing at her?

  Surely, surely, God would not be that cruel to destroy her cheer the moment it had sprung up? She pushed her food away as her stomach began to turn. She cast a look at the nearby clock and grimaced; the next four hours of waiting for Lord Hillbrook to arrive were going to be torturous.

  * * *

  While Edward was all agog for his friend to appear, Penelope was much—much—more reserved. In fact, she would rather be pulling her teeth out than standing in the foyer dressed in a dinner gown with a white shawl about her shoulders waiting for Lord Hillbrook to appear.

  The crunch of carriage wheels made her teeth grit, but she breathed through her reluctance to see the Baron. She stepped back when Mr. Gastrell opened the door, and her nemesis stepped in with his signature overdone style: a black tailcoat pinned with a silver watch fob, and a light blue waistcoat that perfectly matched his eyes.

  He was holding a bag in his hand, and Penelope immediately felt scared. Lord, I pray those are not gifts.

  “Russell!” Edward went forward with a beaming smile on his face. “I am happy to see you back home.”

  “Thank you, Dawson,” Stephen said while his eyes lit and stayed upon Penelope. “I am happy to be home. Lady Penelope, you even more beautiful than I remember.”

  “Thank you, Lord Hillbrook.” If her reply sounded rather awkward, it was. She hated getting compliments from him.

  “How many times have I requested that you call me by my given name?” the Baron’s words were a light tease.

  “Considering this time, a hundred-and-thirty-one,” Penelope replied glibly. “But my bother does not call you by your given name, so I will not break precedent, thank you.”

  “I pray one day you will,” Lord Hillbrook smiled. “Anyway, I come bearing gifts.”

  “They can wait until after dinner,” Edward grasped the bag and handed it off to Mr. Gastrell. “Tell us about your trip.”

  Following behind them, Penelope entered the dining room where instead of a chandelier being lit above, the room was bright with enough candlelight to keep the room adequately lit, but was just a touch too intimate, in Penelope’s opinion.

  The long table was set with the cloths for each course, and before Penelope could sit, Lord Hillbrook was pulling the chair out for her. “Here you go, My Lady.”

  His lips were too close to her ear, but she did not say a word. Edward had not noticed because Stephen’s words were timed perfectly to Edward’s head twisting over his shoulder while directing the waiting footman.

  As they sat, the servants poured the wine and set fragrant bowls of white soup before them. Penelope would have wanted something more unconventional like rabbit stew but Lord Hillbrook was more traditional, and her brother would never relent for her in favor of his friend.

  “America is amazing, a little backwater to be honest, but I did like the city of New York,” Lord Hillbrook said. “You should come, Dawson. The American social seasons are much more lax than ours.”

  Edward’s brows lifted, “Are you that ready to sell me off, Russell?”

  The Baron shrugged, “You have not had any luck with these debutantes; why not choose something out of the norm? You look like you could do well with some spice.”

  “Russell!” Edward gaped. “For shame, man! My sister is here!”

 
Penelope gently sat her spoon down and wiped her mouth, “Brother, do you really think I am that naïve?”

  “You are not experienced either,” Edward glared.

  “And you, Lady Penelope,” Lord Hillbrook turned his benign but somehow predatory eyes on her. “How are you on that front?”

  “Unattached,” Penelope replied simply.

  “And not seeking either,” Edward said in retaliation.

  Now it was her turn to glare, “Thank you, Eddie, I had not noticed.”

  Stephen’s delightful laugh broke up the siblings near-squabble, “I am glad to see that nothing between you have changed. I think both of you could benefit from going to New York, Dawson you can get a lady, and Penelope can marry me.”

  It was said in a tease, but her stomach still twisted.

  “I have to decline,” Edward sighed while sitting back. Servants removed the bowls and set down the food for the next course. While her brother chose roasted beef and Stephen chose fish, she opted for a beef pie.

  The conversation meandered between safe topics until dessert came along. Stephen called for his bag to be brought over, and while the table was being set, he pulled out a box and handed it to Penelope.

  “My gift to you, Lady Penelope,” Stephen smiled.

  Swallowing over the lump in her throat, Penelope took it and opened it. Inside were lines of tiny finger-shaped wafers that had the intoxicating scent of chocolate and spice.

  “Er…” Penelope asked, “Pardon me, what are these?”

  “Biscotti,” Stephen replied, “An old Italian treat that is normally baked twice to get it hard, but I asked my friend’s contact to make them softer than that, more cake like.”

  “Thank you…?” Penelope said as she shifted the box in her hands.

  “Try one,” the Baron encouraged, and she looked up to see Edward giving her a permissive nod.

  She took the nearest wafer and bit into it. The cake melted into the mouth and the sweetness erupted over her tongue. She swallowed, “It is divine.”

  “Wonderful,” Stephen grinned and leaned forward. “Now that you’re bitten it, I do hope the love potion will begin to work.”

  Penelope nearly hacked up a lung. “Excuse me? What love potion?”

  Chapter 3

  The one-bedroom home Heath arrived to was as empty as he had left it. It was the home he rarely used whenever he was not employed with various Lords. Thankfully, he was moving into Dawson’s home on the morrow.

  The windows were dark and the sole tree to the side was swaying in the invisible wind. His meeting with Lord Allerton had gone well, and he was interested in working with the man, but it was his sister who intrigued him the most.

  Lady Penelope Dawson had a look in her eye he remembered his mother had—that of a marvelous intellect and a jovial character. Her face had meandered between that of a teenage girl and a young woman, so he was not sure how old she was.

  Alighting from his trusted horse, Duke, Heath guided the dark standard breed to his single-box stable—if he could reasonably call it such. Heath unsaddled him, gave him a soothing rubdown, pitched some straw back into his trough and some water into another before he rubbed his horse’s ears and went to his home.

  The interior was a spartan cave, with only the bare necessities—a bed, wardrobe, cast-iron tub, and a kitchen nook. He instantly gravitated to the washbasin and cleansed his hands. From there, he filled an old copper kettle and hung it on the hooks before rousing the fire. Then he took a wrapped loaf of bread, sliced two hefty slices, dropped them in a pan and placed on the grate.

  While absently minding them, his attention swerved to Lady Dawson, specifically, when their eyes had met. She had been shocked, but then, a soft sheen of red had run over her speckled cheeks while she darted her eyes away.

  I haven’t seen a lady wear her freckles out in the open lately…most use those vinegar absolutions to wipe them away. Is she that much of an original to disregard the fashion craze?

  The whistling of the kettle and the smell of toasting bread dragged Heath out of his musing, and he grabbed a kitchen cloth to ease the kettle off the hook. He then plucked the bread out—earning himself some smarting fingertips in the process—and dropped them onto a nearby plate. Reaching for his heavily-treasured carafe of butter, he coated the warm hunks and then made his coffee.

  Sitting in the old wingback, purposely placed with its back to the wall and facing a window, Heath ate his meal. Again, his mind went back to Lady Penelope. She was intriguing. From what he had been told, not much was known about the lady other than that her brother had taken her under his wing after their parents had died.

  Speaking of parents, Heath remembered Lord Allerton’s words—what his father had told him when he was a boy—an enemy is only a friend in disguise.

  “Smart man,” he murmured.

  Finishing his meal, Heath closed all the windows and doors before going back to his bedroom, where the bed was pushed against the farthest wall. He took little time in packing his belongings into a cloth sack and readied it at the door. At dawn, he was no longer an independent man, but one of Dawson’s household. Before he left the next morning, though, he was going to wield a hammer, some nails and planks of wood to close up this home.

  He had told Lord Allerton his skills, but what he had told him was only a fraction of them. Viscount Messuer had a host of men at his beck and call, and Heath had shadowed them when he had the time.

  One was a falconer, one was a fisherman and diver, and another one was a hunter. Another worked in carpentry, the fifth was capable of fixing carriages and the last one he had shadowed was an in-house chemist. He did not outline all his skills for a reason. He thought it better to reveal them as the need arose.

  Settling in for the night, Heath folded his hands under his neck and stared up at the dark ceiling. His things were packed, and he was ready to leave to his new position.

  “Tomorrow, another chapter in my life will begin…”

  * * *

  The Dawson House

  Love potion…the nerve!

  Penelope was gulping down water like it was the cordial version and not just plain water. The wafer was long gone, but she swore she could feel a different sensation running through her veins.

  “Easy there, Penelope!” Edward reached over to take the glass from her, but she brushed it off. He then turned his attention to Baron Hillbrook who was doing a poor job of hiding his laughter and leveled an admonishing look at him, “Russell, that was not needed.”

  “It was a harmless jest, Dawson,” Stephen shrugged while sitting back and taking up his wine. “Let up a little.”

  The glass was now empty and Penelope almost slammed it down, “Lord Hillbrook—”

  “Stephen,” the Baron inserted.

  “Lord Hillbrook,” Penelope stressed. “I am not—” Edward’s warning look made her swallow her heated words and then switch to, “Pardon me, I was not anticipating your jest which is why my reaction was so…severe.”

  She kept her eyes from her brother and focused on the man on the other side of the table. “But I should have expected something of the sort, you always did have a rather…a peculiar sense of humor.”

  Lord Hillbrook’s eyes drifted up, “Thank you, I suppose?”

  Edward cleared his throat, breaking the awkward silence in the room, “So, Russell, what else did you do in America?”

  Sliding the box of confections—which Penelope firmly decided was going to meet its fate in the middle of a furnace—away from her, she refilled her glass and sat back to listen with half an ear as the Baron spoke about his business endeavors. Her mind drifted off to think of the best time to go riding when Edward was not there.

  “You should come, Dawson,” Stephen said. “I would really appreciate your ability in haggling to get me the best price on that thoroughbred.”

  “I don’t know Russell,” Edward sighed while swirling his wine. “Tattersall’s horse fair is sort of a fish market sometimes.”<
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  And here he goes again with this arrogance, Penelope sighed. “Is it that much of bother, brother? If I recall, you do need another horse yourself.”

  “I do,” Edward mused while reaching for the wine jug. “But I can easily send someone to get it for me.”

  “Why?” Penelope asked. “Are you needed here?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “The town then?”

  “I do not think so,” Edward replied.

  “Then go,” Penelope said. “Besides, you have not seen Lord Hillbrook in months, take this time to get familiar and get yourself a horse that does not have a buttress foot and a lazy eye.”