Journey to love (Runaway Regency Brides Special Edition) (5 Story Box Set) Read online

  Content (Titles)

  1.Against her will

  2.The daring escape

  3.Mistaken for a Cyprian

  4.Saving a scoundrel

  5. An unusual proposal

  PREVIEW: FOR THE LOVE OF A SCOUNDREL (6 STORY BOX SET) – THE ARRANGEMENT

  Against her will

  Copyright © Regina Darcy 2020

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher and writer except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a contemporary work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

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  Art Illustration by The Midnight Muse.

  Contents

  PROLOGUE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  PROLOGUE

  Moving quietly, Lady Georgette Davis rose from her chair and went to the windows to draw the curtains so that her mother’s sleep would not be interrupted, should a stray ray of sunshine manage to get past the heavy curtain drapes.

  For Lady Esther, the Countess of Parsonville, the peace of sleep was hard to come by and her daughter tried in many small ways every day to eke a few more minutes of rest for her.

  The Countess had experienced a severe malaise seven years ago, that left her unable to walk, bedridden, and easily confused. She could still speak some, although it strained her voice to talk for long. Georgette spent most of her days in the sickroom caring for her.

  The Countess had been very fond of novels before her stroke and now, in her weakened state, novels were the only entertainment left to her, and that only through Georgette’s efforts. Her greatest pleasure was to listen as her daughter read to her.

  But the reading had a second benefit; after half an hour, Lady Esther usually fell asleep into a deep slumber that gave her the strength, when she awoke, to partake of supper.

  She could no longer go downstairs to the dining room, of course, and Georgette would not abandon her mother to a servant, which meant that meals at the Parsonville estate were not the grand, sumptuous affairs they had been in the past.

  The Earl dined at his club rather than eat alone, and Georgette ate whenever she could find the time, generally later in the evening after her mother had gone to sleep for the night. But she did not mind.

  She loved her mother not merely out of duty but out of respect and admiration that had been nurtured since she was a little girl. To see her in this constant weakened state brought tears to her eyes – tears she only shed far from prying eyes, alone in her bedroom.

  Georgette sighed and straightened her shoulders. She glided gracefully through the room, picked the latest book she had read up from her chair and silently left her mother’s bedroom.

  Although exhaustion laced through her limbs, she thought that she ought to spend some time with her father who, she knew, felt thoroughly neglected by his only child.

  She and her parents had been very close before her mother’s stroke, but ever since, things had been different.

  Georgette had refused a coming out; she was not interested, she had told her father, in making a frivolous presentation of herself when her mother was in no physical condition to be there to sponsor and chaperone her.

  The Earl had argued with her; her life, he had said, had to go on, even with her mother’s illness.

  But Georgette was adamant. She would not, and the Earl, unable to dissuade her, had faced the fact that his daughter was determined to sacrifice herself in order to be a nurse to her mother. It was not a life for a young, pretty girl who had every right to entertain thoughts of marriage and a family of her own. But here, too, he could not budge Georgette.

  No, she had already resigned herself to being a recluse, a wilted wallflower. Never would she let her mother end up in a place such a Bethlem. A hospital that was nothing more than a prison.

  She had no intentions of letting her mother become a dirty hidden away secret. Locked in her chambers in the East Wing with an indifferent carer and a husband and daughter who would never visit, because of the distractions of high society.

  No, she provided for her mother and she would not regret her decision, never mind how lonely she felt. She knew that marriage and family life was a privilege that was not necessarily afforded to everyone.

  She bit her lower lip and then shook her head. It was pointless to speculate about what might have been. With that final thought, she walked towards the servants’ quarters, her mind preoccupied with the list of household duties she needed to organise.

  Unbeknownst to Georgette, on this very ordinary of days, the Earl of Parsonville was to set into motion a series of events that would fundamentally change her future, be it for better or for worse.

  ONE

  Two Weeks Later

  As Georgette left the East Wing that housed her mother’s sickroom, she was met by Louisa, one of the housemaids, who bobbed a quick curtsey.

  “Begging your pardon, my lady, but His Lordship asks that you go to his study.”

  Georgette sighed, her expression tight with strain. She supposed that Father wanted to give her another lecture about sacrificing her youth and beauty.

  He delivered it periodically, to no avail. Georgette still had no intention of leaving her mother. However, his constant haranguing was wearing her down. Her emotions were already held together by a shoestring due to the number of sleepless nights she’d had in the recent weeks.

  Her gaze travelled to the maids and she nodded her acknowledgement.

  “Thank you, Louisa. Will you serve tea in the study, please?”

  “Yes, my lady. How is Her Ladyship?”

  “The same,” Georgette replied. The household staff was diligent about asking after the Countess, even though she had ceased to be a personality in the running of the estate. That was all left to Georgette now.

  Everyone from the butler to the scullery maid regarded Lady Georgette as the lady of the house, even though she was only twenty-three years old and unmarried.

  She was a good daughter.

  The Earl, well, he was a husband with a wife who couldn’t fulfil her role, in a household run by a dutiful and efficient daughter. Lady Georgette did her best, everyone agreed, but with nursing her mother and taking care of the household responsibilities, she didn’t have much time for her father. Or herself.

  The Earl was in the study, gazing out the windows upon the stark landscape, which had not yet shaken off the grim hues of winter. He turned at her entrance and closed the curtains, shutting out the pale view.

  “As I get older,” he remarked, “I am always eager for spring to show itself. It seems as if it lacks the strength to overcome winter, but ultimately, it does.”

  “That’s very fanciful, Father,” Georgette said with a smile.

  The Earl was not a poetic sort of man. As he let his gaze rest on his daughter, he sighed. He was a firm father and he had been an attentive husband until his wife’s stroke. Now he busied himself with the estate and its upkeep, and when in London, he spent much of his time at his club. He ha
d his duties in Parliament to attend to and he was faithful in those as well.

  The Earl of Parsonville was not a man to shirk his duty. He felt that he had, without intending to do so, been neglectful of his duty as a father.

  Georgette began pouring the tea that the maid had brought in. She handed a cup to her father who remained standing while he drank.

  “You’re three-and-twenty,” he suddenly said abruptly.

  “Yes?” she replied in a questioning tone, wondering why her age should be the start of a conversation.

  “At your age, your mother and I had been married for three years. She had given birth to a son. We were so happy. But he died in his infancy and I thought we should never know joy again. But then . . . then you came. You were our delight, Georgette. We named you after the king, you know.”

  Georgette knew this.

  Her father had no regard for the Prince Regent; he viewed him as an extravagant, vain peacock. But the Prince’s father, George III, despite his illness, which the Earl refused to describe as madness, was a man of honour who was faithful to his wife. He abided by the notion that a king was the father of the nation. Admiring those values, the Earl had named his daughter after the monarch. The King had been present at her christening, Georgette knew and had gifted her with a silver bowl upon the occasion.

  The Earl sighed. “I pity the King,” he said. “He is not so blessed in his son as I am in my daughter.”

  It was not like the Earl to offer such direct praise. Startled by the compliment, Georgette stared at her father.

  “Sir,” she began. “I am honoured by your remark, but I do not understand the comparison. The Prince Regent . . . to be sure, he is lacking in those qualities which the King, when he was well, exhibited to distinction. But it is known that the King and the Queen have not been parents given to affection. You say that you are blessed as the King is not in the matter of offspring. But I can say the same, that I have been blessed with loving and mindful parents, as the Prince Regent has not been.”

  “Perhaps,” the Earl responded, not convinced by his daughter’s logic. “The Prince Regent is not a dutiful son.”

  “Father,” Georgette said with a smile that brought the contours of her Cupid’s bow mouth into prominence, “why are we discussing the royal family? Surely we have other topics upon which we may have discourse.”

  The Earl gave a brief bark of laughter and sat down opposite her. Georgette filled his cup again.

  Absently, he helped himself to one of the slices of cake from the tea-tray.

  “You are not having anything to eat?” he asked.

  “Yes, I . . . ” she stuttered, then to please him, she chose a small piece of cake.

  His critical eye swept over her.

  “You are not eating regularly,” he said, sounding as if he were accusing her of laxness. “You are thinner. You are too thin.”

  “Father . . . I have always been thin,” Georgette replied with a smile.

  “Slender, yes, you have your mother’s form and her beauty. But you’re too thin,” he repeated. “You need filling out. You must not neglect yourself, Georgette. I know that you are a dutiful daughter and you give your mother excellent care. But your mother would not wish for you to sacrifice your youth and opportunities because of her. I assure you, she would not want this.”

  “She is not in a position to say what she wants,” Georgette reminded him. “She is quite dependent upon us to care for her.” She frowned, deathly tired of having the same endless debate with her father. Surely he could understand that no-one could care for Mama as well as Georgette. “She is my mother. Should I abandon her?”

  “It is not abandonment to pursue your own life, Georgette. You have sacrificed your youth. By this age, you would, in the usual course of events, have had your coming out. You would have been engaged and married, and very likely, by now, you would be a mother. All that I have will go to you. You are an heiress. I should like to think that Parsonville will continue in our line, and that may only happen if you have children.”

  “Father, I wish—”

  But having found his line of argument, the Earl was not going to surrender it. He held up his hand for her silence.

  “Georgette, it is my duty as your father to safeguard your future. You have ignored the customary traditions of your sex. You have not made your debut and now, I regret, it would be pointless for you to do so. Three-and-twenty . . . it is regarded as an advanced age for any woman.”

  Georgette laughed.

  “Do you think me so very old, Father?”

  “To me, you are forever young. But I will not have you deprived thus forever. I wish you to marry.”

  “Father,” Georgette said wearily, putting down her teacup. “We have had this discussion many times and there is no purpose in repeating it. I cannot leave Mother when she needs me.”

  “I have taken that into consideration,” the Earl said. “You wish to marry where you can be near your mother. That is easily managed.”

  “I did not say that I wish to marry where I can be near Mother,” Georgette corrected him. “I said that I do not wish to leave Mother.”

  “And I wish you to marry, to have children, to maintain your own household,” the Earl replied, frustration colouring his features. “You are a gifted young woman of beauty and charm. You must not wither here as a nursemaid. You must marry. To marry a man who will appreciate your abilities and will understand that you are attentive to your mother will allow you the freedom of a wife while maintaining the obligations of a daughter. Can you not see that this is important for your own maturation? You must not remain only a daughter, my dear child. You must become a woman.”

  “At three-and-twenty,” Georgette said with some harshness in her voice, “I can hardly be regarded as a schoolgirl.”

  “No, and that is precisely my meaning. I have arranged a marriage for you.”

  Silence descended between them, as Georgette stared at her father. Surely she had misunderstood? But as the silence continued uninterrupted, she saw the seriousness etched on her father’s face and dread laced up her spine.

  “Father! You cannot be serious?” she exclaimed.

  “Deathly so,” he replied, his face sombre and determined.

  “How can you be so tyrannical? That is—that is positively medieval, to arrange a marriage without my knowledge or acquiescence,” she finally cried out.

  “I have tried to convince you by other means, Georgette, and I have failed. The time for negotiating acquiescence is over. I trust that you will be obedient to my wishes.”

  The Earl put down his teacup and left the room.

  Stunned, his daughter sat in numbed silence.

  Her father was admittedly a stern man and perhaps a rigid one, but she had never doubted that he loved her. To subject her to his arbitrary edict regarding marriage was out of character.

  How could she possibly be expected to marry his choice of husband when she had not even met the man he had chosen for her? For the first time in seven years, Georgette’s mind was preoccupied with something other than her mother.

  ***

  Georgette, whose social circle had shrunk considerably since she retired from society to tend to her mother, had few friends and confidants left as an adult.

  Valerie Duncan, who was, like Georgette, unmarried, had never been more than an old acquaintance from school, but she appeared like a saving grace to Georgette in her time of need the following week.

  When she learned the news of Georgette’s imminent engagement, she was as aghast as the intended bride.

  “Perhaps . . . ” Valerie said thoughtfully. “Perhaps I may be of help to you in this matter. I am not of the aristocracy, of course, but my father has a wide circle of business acquaintances, although I realise that it is customary to look down upon those who must earn their living rather than having inherited it, in your particular case, this might be to our advantage. It is possible that he had knowledge of this prospective groom—wha
t did you say his name is?”

  “Viscount Lathan,” Georgette replied bitterly, uttering the name as if it were accursed. “Hudson Gibbs. I have been so long out of society that I know nothing of him and I would be most grateful if you could find out what manner of man he is.”

  “I am sure that, if your father selected him, he must be a man of means and, of course, breeding. Your father would never consent to wed you to someone who was not of your social standing. Why, I am surprised that I am even allowed to be your friend, as I am not your equal.”

  Georgette was too heartbroken to rise to Valerie’s customary self-deprecation. It had always been thus when they were in school.

  Valerie had attended a young girls school for the wealthy because her parents had sacrificed and put the money aside for her so that she would rub elbows with the heiresses of the empire. Georgette had attended the school because she was an Earl’s daughter. The difference in their social status was something Valerie would constantly highlight.

  “Valerie,” Georgette replied absently, “you know that it is your friendship and not your pedigree, that matters. Why should my father interfere with our friendship?”

  “The Earl is very proud, is he not? He would not want you to lower yourself.”

  “I have no time to think of such things.”

  “That,” Valerie pronounced, “is because your social standing protects you against such trivial matters.” She forced a laugh. “I shall find out what I can about the Viscount and I shall inform you right away. If he is a reprobate, a rake, a gambler, a philanderer, I shall let you know and you will tell your father that he has been deceived as to the character of the man he has chosen for you. If, on the other hand, he is an upstanding, well-bred man of honour, perhaps it will not be such a bad fate to be his wife. Becoming a viscountess, after all, is hardly cause for lamentation.”

  “I don’t care for such trivial matters as titles,” Georgette said with a sigh as she rose and glided gracefully to stare out the bay windows in the drawing-room. She was lost deep in thought. She did not hear the soft reply that followed.