Showmance, p.9
A Merry Regency Christmas, page 9
A bleary-eyed lad with rumpled hair readied his horse. Sebastain tossed him an extra quid for disturbing the lad’s sleep. Thankfully, there weren’t many hackneys or carriages out. He was able to navigate the streets quickly. As he rounded the corner to the street where Hélène lived, he blew out a breath. Two coaches waited before her house. She hadn’t left him yet.
As he neared, he jumped from the mount, tossed the reins to a footman, and raced up the stairs. The door opened as he reached it, and he stopped. Inside the foyer stood Acker, his wife, Bentley and his wife, and Hélène. Everyone else disappeared when his eyes lit on her. His pulse calmed and his erratic heart returned to a normal rhythm. He could breathe again.
She glanced up, and a smile lit her face.
Eighteen
What was Stanwick doing here? Hélène thought to never see him again. Just the sight of him answered the questions that had plagued her earlier. She would give up her desire to act if given the chance to be his wife.
Why had she foolishly insisted she continue to act?
Because it was familiar, or was it simply stubbornness because Bentley told her she couldn’t? What would being an actress achieve in the end? She would still be alone and most likely grow old as a spinster. Besides, it wasn’t as if she had to be part of Society either. Stanwick wasn’t, and even when he inherited the title, Hélène doubted he would change. She admired that about him. He did as he pleased, thumbing his nose at Society. How could she not respect him? How could she not love him?
Stanwick stepped inside the foyer and bowed. “Lady Hélène, might I have a word with you?”
She glanced at Bentley and the others. They said nothing. Her heart hammered in her chest. Was he here to propose again? She hadn’t seen him in two days, and this was certainly not a proper time to call. Not that she cared. All that mattered was that Stanwick was here and wished to speak with her. “This way.” She turned and entered the small parlor off the foyer. The room was only used for greeting guests or for short visits.
Stanwick followed and started to close the door behind him. A hand grasped the edge holding it open.
“We will allow you privacy, but the door remains open,” Bentley said.
Stanwick grumbled something under this breath that Hélène didn’t quite hear, but he did walk further into the room, stopping before her.
At first, he said nothing, simply stared down at her. Hélène took a deep, shaky breath and waited.
Should she speak first? But what if he hadn’t come here about marriage but something else entirely? Not that she could imagine what it would be.
She blinked at him and waited, trying to remember to breathe.
Stanwick cleared his throat and took her hands in his. “I’ve been a bloody fool.”
Hélène couldn’t help herself and smiled. He was so serious and the least foolish person she knew.
“There are many reasons I did not wish to marry, most of which I have shared with you.” He cleared his throat again. “Another was because of fear.”
The smile slipped. Was Stanwick afraid of a broken heart?
“My mother, as you know, died because she was not strong enough to continue without my father.”
She nodded.
“And earlier this month, I attended a funeral of a friend.”
Sadness clouded his eyes. Hélène raised a hand to his cheek. She had not put on her traveling gloves, and the stubble was sharp and coarse against the palm of her hand.
“His wife had gone mad and killed him with a fire iron.”
“Goodness.”
“I thought it was because he had kept a mistress.” He brought his hand up to cradle hers against his cheek. “I thought if a husband did not properly take care of his wife, shield her from the difficulties of the world, she would either go mad, suffer from hysteria, or simply give up.”
Hélène lifted an eyebrow and studied him. Perhaps he was a bit foolish after all.
“You’ve made me realize it is the opposite.”
He placed his hands at either side of her face, leaned in, and kissed her. It was one more of affection and unlike the others he had given her. How many ways were there to kiss?
“I understand now.” He smiled, and her heart skipped a beat. “I don’t want to take your passion away from you any more than I would have allowed my uncle to dictate my future.” He kissed her again. “I would be honored if you would become my wife, and I promise to see you perform as often as I can.”
Tears sprang to her eyes, and Hélène grinned up at him.
“I don’t know how it happened, Hélène, but I am in love with you, and will do everything in my power to make you happy.”
Tears slid down her cheeks, but Hélène didn’t swipe them away. “I love you, too,” she whispered.
“You’ll marry me?”
“Yes.”
Their noses were nearly touching, both laughing when Stanwick pulled her close and lowered his mouth to hers. It was a kiss of love, and she never wanted it to end.
“Am I to assume there’ll be a wedding?”
They pulled away from each other to find Bentley, Acker, and their wives standing just inside the door. How long had they been there?
“Yes,” Hélène and Stanwick answered at the same time.
“Then we shall see that it is done,” Bentley smiled. “We will wait while you prepare for the trip, Stanwick, but do make it quick.”
“Trip?” He looked to Hélène and back to Bentley.
“You’ll be coming with us so you can be married right away.”
It was happening too fast. Hélène didn’t want Stanwick to be rushed. As much as she didn’t want to wait, she would understand if he did.
“I don’t have a license and wish to have my brother at my side.”
“I doubt there will be difficulty in obtaining the license since we will be visiting the Duke of Danby,” Bentley assured him. “Fetch your brother.”
Hélène glanced up at Stanwick. Would he balk at the orders? She didn’t want him to feel rushed.
Slowly, he grinned. “Allow me an hour.”
Hélène breathed a sigh of relief.
“I’ll give you two.”
Stanwick turned to Hélène and took her hands in his. “This is better than I had anticipated.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “You will be mine before Christmas,” he whispered. “I can’t think of a more perfect present.”
Dear Readers,
Thank you for reading LADY CONCEALED, the seventh book in the Tenacious Trents Series. For more Tenacious Trents, see links to the full series below. If you'd like to keep up with my books, new releases, and other news there are many ways to follow me.
The Tenacious Trents
Compromised for Christmas
A Misguided Lord
A Perfect Gentleman
A Lass for Christmas
A Reluctant Rake
Lady Revealed
Lady Disguised
Lady Concealed
A Tenacious Trents Wedding
Lady Admired
THE WALLFLOWER'S STOCKING
Copyright
The Wallflower's Stocking
Copyright © 2022 by Jane Charles
All rights reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.
About The Wallflower’s Stocking
Lady Gaia Evans and Lord Zachariah Radburn, Marquess Lydell first met last Christmas Eve after finding shelter from a blizzard. The most unusual part of this introduction was that it was within a brothel.
Conversation into the night led to the first buds of friendship as not only their hearts, but also their souls, took notice.
With the promise of a dance when the Season began, the two went their separate ways. Except, Lady Gaia never saw Lydell again. As London left much to be desired, Gaia slowly withdrew from the throng until she found her place among the wallflowers.
Lord Lydell did attempt to attend the Season with the one hope of courting Lady Gaia. However, the American with a suspect family history was not made welcome. Therefore, Lydell left London and put his dreams, hopes, and desires for Lady Gaia away.
That is, until they encounter the other once again at Christmastime. Will their hearts and souls take notice again or will a past keep them apart?
Dedication
Thank you, Jerrica Knight-Catania, Ava Stone and Deb Marlowe for always being there to push me to get words written and to bounce ideas off of. You guys are the best support that an author can have by their side even if we live miles apart.
Chapter One
Bath, England, December 1815
“You will be on your best behavior for the next fortnight,” Lady Dargate ordered her only son.
Lady Gaia Evans glanced over at her older brother, Angelo, the Earl of Bolton and smirked.
“I always behave, Mother,” he assured her with false sincerity.
It was all Gaia could do not to snort.
“You’ve not behaved since you were on leading strings,” their mother grumbled. “As for you, Gaia, perhaps you should misbehave for a change.”
At that, Gaia gasped.
“You are too quiet…unassuming and people aren’t even aware when you are about. You’ll never get noticed if you don’t do something…well…noticeable.”
“Such is the way of wallflowers,” her brother goaded.
“At least my reputation is sterling, whereas yours leaves much to be desired,” she argued.
Angelo simply grinned, not the least bit ashamed that he was considered a notorious rake, rogue and all-around scoundrel, breaking hearts in his wake. Yet, he insisted he behaves. Gaia nearly snorted again.
“Quit bickering,” their mother ordered. “Gaia, you will step out from the shadows and enjoy spending time with our guests, and more importantly, you will not be a wallflower at the Christmas Eve ball.”
Instead of spending Christmas at Sessile Court, her father’s ancestral estate in Kent, they’d traveled to Bath, where her brother lived in the home Father had purchased years ago in the Royal Crescent. Mother had begged him to do so as she’d been quite taken with the architecture. It was there that Gaia and her family spent much of their time whenever she and her mother traveled from Florence to England. Rarely did her family remain at Sessile Court for any length of time because it was not where her mother preferred. However, since they could no longer return to Italy, she and her mother had spent more time in Kent than she ever had in the twenty previous years of visiting and this was the first they’d visited Bath in over a year.
“Angelo, you will also remain at home, and not off to…” Her mother glanced to Gaia. “You know.”
“That is hardly fair,” he complained. “Gaia spent last Christmas Eve in a brothel, yet I cannot this year.”
“Those were extenuating circumstances,” her mother ground out.
Gaia almost wished she could spend this Christmas Eve as she had the last.
An odd snowstorm, a blizzard actually, had stranded them in Canterbury and she and her mother had been forced to take shelter in a brothel. It had been an enjoyable evening, despite the circumstances. They weren’t the only travelers in the unusual establishment since every inn had already been filled to capacity. Several travelers, who were deemed the most respectable in Society, shared laughter, spirits, and stories with females usually looked down upon for being lightskirts.
There she had also met Lord Zachariah Radburn, the Marquess of Lydell, and his young ward. Gaia had hoped that they’d meet again once the Season began in London, but it was not to be.
His absence had been noted, no matter how silly it may have been. He had asked her to save him a waltz and she looked forward to the moment when she spied him across a ballroom. But she never did and had to accept that the request had only been a well-meaning promise because of an evening shared. It was also likely he’d forgotten her in the weeks that followed, even though she’d not forgotten him.
Unfortunately, this Christmas would be uneventful in comparison.
“Family will arrive a few days before Christmas. However, I have issued invitations to others to join us for tea in the days leading up to the ball and I expect Gaia to engage in conversation with those guests,” her mother continued to instruct. “As for you, Angelo, you will be present within this household doing the same.”
He slumped in his seat as if he were a child and his favorite toy had just been taken away. “Will Father’s siblings and their families be residing here?”
“Your Aunt Anne and Colonel Montgomery have made arrangements to lease a home currently unoccupied only a few doors away. Audrey and her husband and child will stay with them,” their mother answered. “Aunt Mary and Lord Hartley, and their children will stay here.”
Mother made it sound like they were young. Bethany, the eldest was two years older than Gaia and had not married yet, nor was she in a hurry to do so. Meredith and Gaia were the same age and at one time had been close, but that had been when they were children. The middle child, and only son, was Percy.
“How many people are we expecting at the ball?” Angelo asked.
When it had just been her aunts and their families for Christmas, Gaia had not been concerned. But her mother was inviting the residents of Bath into their home.
“For the ball, not above three dozen guests, outside of our family.”
Gaia’s stomach tightened at the very idea.
“It is the intention of your father and I to make certain that you meet respectable women, Angelo. You’ve a duty and you have been shirking it.”
Hopefully her parents would be more concerned with Angelo finally marrying and leave her be.
“This past Season was a failure, and my daughter will not be known as a wallflower.” Her mother blew out a sigh and leaned back. “I don’t even know what came over you, Gaia. In Italy you never shied away from gatherings, or the people present, but in England, well, you might as well not have even been present.”
Gaia had explained but was dismissed for being too cautious and suspicious.
“The reason your father and I have planned smaller gatherings is because this will allow you to meet everyone beforehand so maybe, finally, you will participate.”
Perhaps her mother did understand, though it was more likely she didn’t wish for Gaia to have the excuse that the gentlemen were strangers whom she knew nothing about. “Yes, Mother,” Gaia acknowledged so that her mother didn’t harp further on what was expected and what a disappointment Gaia had been.
“If that is all,” Angelo stood. “I do need to prepare for this evening.”
Her mother frowned.
“If I am to be sequestered here for a fortnight, I am going to enjoy myself tonight.”
“Where are you going?” her mother demanded as Angelo sauntered from the room.
“I have a ball to attend.”
He then disappeared and Gaia could hear him rushing up the stairs.
“Ball? What ball?” her mother asked. “We received no invitation.”
“It would have been rather awkward had we,” Gaia laughed. “It is the annual Courtesan Christmas Ball.” Even though Gaia had never been married, and was only one and twenty years, her mother hadn’t sheltered her from what occurred in privacy between a man and a woman. Her mother had found it perfectly acceptable for bachelors to have mistresses, lovers and visit brothels, but only until they married. This was probably why Gaia hadn’t been nearly as shocked to be sitting in what was considered a house of ill-repute last year. Of course, even though Gaia may have the knowledge, she lacked all experience because unlike her son, Gaia’s mother believed a woman should remain chaste until she wed.
Gaia used to believe that such rules were terribly unfair to the female. However, as she had not met anyone with whom she wished to share intimacies, she had decided that perhaps men were not as discerning as women, or perhaps their needs were simply greater.
Her mother shook her head. “I shouldn’t be surprised that Angelo is attending.” Her mother blew out a sigh. “Such behavior is normal for a younger man. However, he is now eight and twenty and should be looking for a wife, not his next mistress.”
“In order to assist in seeing my brother marry, I will pay close attention to the available misses and ladies who call on us. I’m certain I will find his perfect bride,” Gaia offered. If she could keep her parents focused on seeing Angelo wed, then they would not worry themselves about her.
“So long as you also participate in meeting available gentlemen.”
“I don’t want an English husband,” she reminded her mother. “I want an Italian gentleman.”
“We cannot return to Florence so unless you find an Italian gentleman in England, it is unlikely that you will wed one.”
