Engaging Love: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Read online

  I hope that you are still at your hotel by the time this letter reaches you. I shall assume it has, and if I do not hear from you, shall presume you are ignoring my instructions.

  My entreaties that you return home have fallen upon deaf ears time and again. I understand that Europe has its temptations. The land is lovely, the history and art are of a fine nature, and I hear the women can be art in and of themselves.

  But it has been years since you have last darkened the door of your home. You are the heir to this land. It is time that you learned how to run it.

  Your sister and younger brother shall loathe to hear I admit this, but I am not well. They protest I have many years in me yet. I am not so certain.

  The pressing of my years upon me turns my mind to the matter of inheritance, more strongly than it has before. Edward has been helping me about the house and grounds these last few years. While you have been wiling away your time on frivolities, he has been the wall upon which I could lean.

  Even more concerning than your lack of presence and care in your duties as heir are the reports I receive of your behavior. If the women of the gentry should learn you are a rake, not a one of them shall have you.

  The ones that will still have you, of course, will not be the sort of women you want in charge of such a fine estate as Mountbank.

  You always spoke of wanting a sensible woman as your bride. You spoke of wanting one to accompany you on walks and read with you. What has changed you so that you indulge in playing with women like this?

  It breaks my heart that you seem to have no care for how you treat others or for carrying on your family legacy.

  I insist that you come home and show you are earnest in being the heir. This includes taking a wife. I shall expect you to return home in a month’s time with a well-bred and betrothed woman accompanying you and an earnestness in your heart for the hard work being a keeper of this fine land requires.

  If you fulfill neither of these duties—if you bring home a stupid, selfish woman, or if you bring home no woman at all, or if you show nothing but laziness and disinterest for the estate—then I shall disinherit you.

  Do not think that I do this in jest. It breaks my heart to write this. I have locked myself in my study at a late hour, so that your siblings might not stumble upon me in my current state.

  But my feelings of sadness must be pushed aside to do what must be done for the good of the estate. We are lords, John. We are tasked with upholding the tenants that keep the government running and taking care of England’s land and her people.

  Some men may take this duty lightly. I am not one of those men.

  You must prove to me your worthiness, or I shall instate Edward in your place. I know that he has long held a wish to travel as well. I know that doing this will upset everyone. And I do not wish to cause you pain or demote you in any way.

  But I must think of Mountbank’s future. I will not have our family’s legacy driven to ruin. If you will not rise up and be the man I know you can be, then I shall have to put your brother up in your stead.

  Please, do not disappoint me in this. I hope beyond words that you will prove me wrong. But do not think that I will not hesitate to make good on my threat, either.

  You have one month. I shall appreciate you writing me with updates to let me know you have received my letter and so forth. But in any case, if after one month I have not heard from you and you have not come home to fulfill my conditions, you shall be my heir no longer.

  I remain,

  Fitzwilliam Ridgecleff

  John supposed he was lucky that his father hadn’t bothered to list all of his official titles.

  He cast the letter aside, trying to ignore how his hands trembled. His father was trying to be gentle with his words. John suspected his sister Emma had her hand in that. Emma had long tried to be the peacekeeper between John and their father.

  It had only gotten worse after Mother had died. Father had always been stern with John but without Mother there to soften his temper he’d only gotten worse.

  Could he really—could anyone—blame John for fleeing to the Continent and staying there while he could?

  A part of him wanted to write Father and tell him to hang it all. He wasn’t going to be called home like a wayward dog and lectured like a child.

  But the idea of losing his inheritance…

  It made his blood run cold. He nearly had to sit down.

  Without his inheritance, he had nothing. His father wasn’t disowning him completely so he still had his family name at the least. It was a kindness.

  But without his inheritance he should have to enlist in the Army or Navy, or quickly become a lawyer. He might even have to enter the clergy.

  An eldest son, and of an earl, forced to swiftly take up an occupation to sustain himself?

  He would be a laughingstock. Oh, nobody would be so gauche as to do it to his face. He didn’t know of anyone rude enough for that.

  But behind his back? Oh, yes.

  He would find certain doors barred to him. Invitations would be fewer. Some of his higher-up acquaintances would find excuses not to see him.

  It would not be total disgrace, but it would be close enough.

  He could not bear it. He would not bear it.

  There was no choice for it then, in the end. He would have to fulfill his father’s conditions.

  Coming home and helping to run the estate and learning how to occupy his inherited position would be the easy part. He had never truly wanted to evade it. Although his behavior might suggest otherwise.

  He would come to enjoy his duties. He was sure of it. Edward would be grateful and eager to help as well. His brother had written John a few times, expressing envy of his brother’s travels and freedom. This would afford Edward the opportunity to travel on his own at last.

  It would do him marvelous good to see Emma as well. She had inherited all of their mother’s shy grace and sweet, demure nature. A kinder and more thoughtful creature, John was certain, had never lived. She could help him in winning Father’s good graces back.

  No, it was not the prospect of the duties or of seeing his siblings that concerned him.

  It was more Father and his temperament, and the matter of a wife.

  John had been in no hurry to wed. He was not a woman, her bloom of youth there and gone in one season. He could afford to bide his time.

  Or so he had thought. Apparently, according to his father, time was something he did not have.

  And yes, he might have flirted around a bit. But how could he help it when many women he’d met were so vapid?

  He wanted a sensible wife, someone quiet and thoughtful, someone he could debate with. His father was right, he wanted someone to read with, to discuss things with, to go on walks with.

  Many women just seemed far more interested in dresses and gossip and the like. He couldn’t stand that.

  However, many women were also beautiful and good at flirting while at balls.

  So why not flirt back? Why not indulge himself? And if sometimes he indulged himself a little too much, well, what of it?

  Except that now he was out of time and needed to compress what would usually be months of courtship and selection into one month.

  John raked a hand through his hair in frustration. How was he to find someone in so short of a time?

  Then his eye fell upon the second letter he had received that morning.

  It was from Lord and Lady Morrison, who had long been acquaintances of his family. It was an invitation, done up in gold leaf, to their masquerade ball. Their masquerade ball was held annually and was considered by many to be the party of the year.

  If anyone would know of possible ladies for him, it would be the Morrisons. They knew everyone that there was to know. Indeed, they often knew things about people that they shouldn’t.

  He would find a wife at the masquerade ball, if not before. He would write to Father to let him know that he had received his letter.

 
Then he would write to Lord Morrison and ask him and his wife to please reply with a list of eligible young ladies who would serve him well as the mistress of Mountbank.

  He could call upon these ladies in between now and the ball—but if nothing else, he did have the ball. Surely in the swirl of people he could find someone of good breeding who was to his tastes.

  John’s hands ceased trembling. This was nothing that he could not overcome. All he needed was to find a woman pleasing to the eye, with a good family name, who could stir in him the beginnings of fondness.

  He did not even ask for love, at least not at first. Just a nature that he found agreeable.

  And how hard could it be, really, to find a wife for an earl?

  Chapter 3

  The answer to that question was: very hard.

  John would have thought that his family name alone would grant him the favors of any unmarried lady.

  He had not been wrong in this, at least not entirely. Various women were ready and willing to be wooed by him. However, some of their fathers had heard of his exploits in the Continent and were less inclined.

  Furthermore, those who were so inclined had daughters who annoyed him to no end. Not one of them had beauty to justify their lack of brains. Those who did have brains turned them to cattiness rather than true wit and learning.

  John despaired. Where was the grace, the poise, the accomplishments? What had happened to young women while he’d been gone from England?

  Perhaps he was an old fogey, as Emma had sometimes liked to tease him. But was it really too much to ask that he wish for a wife who was sensible, capable of running a household, and enjoyed reading and his company? He wanted a woman of substance, not some ornament he could show off at parties. He wanted a proper life partner.

  Lord Morrison, when John wrote him of his despair, was sympathetic.

  My dear friend, I can well understand your frustrations. I would advise you to perhaps turn your attentions to the Hartfield family.

  There are five daughters among them. One is spoken for, although propriety forbids me from saying to whom, but the other four are quite unattached.

  The eldest, Bridget, is as sensible and controlled a young lady as you will ever meet. She is one of the few one can label as truly accomplished.

  However, while Bridget is said to be the brightest star of them all the other three are quite lovely.

  The second youngest has the wit you seek, Miss Elizabeth. Some find her a little too liberal with her words but I dare say you’ll find her a fair match for yourself.

  The very youngest, Miss Regina, loves reading and solitude. She could do to learn to stand up for herself. She is of a stronger temperament than she gives herself credit for. But I think that only commends her.

  The third, Natalie, you might find to your tastes. She is quick-witted and intelligent. She has captured the attention of many a man. And she is widely regarded to be the most beautiful.

  I believe that their family is scattered at the moment. However, as you are attending our masquerade ball, I can be sure to make the necessary introductions.

  One of them will surely be to your liking. Both my wife and I have known the family for many years and care greatly for all of them.

  The letter then continued on into other matters.

  John focused in on the part about the Hartfield family. Five of them, and only one spoken for? How odd. Surely if they were as lovely as Lord Morrison claimed, they would have all been engaged by this point?

  Upon looking up the family in the registry, however, he could guess why. The two youngest were hardly out of their first season and the eldest, he supposed, had been preoccupied the last few years. The registry listed the mother as deceased some time ago, when they were all young.

  As one who had also lost a parent at a young age, he could easily imagine that Miss Hartfield had to step in and focus more on mothering than on flirtations.

  Still, four of them? One of them had to be good enough. And it almost didn’t matter at this point. He had to choose someone and propose by the night of the ball if he was to travel to his father’s house in time to meet the demands.

  The masquerade ball would undoubtedly last for hours. That should give him enough time to converse and dance with the women in question. The one who was the most appealing, or least distasteful, he’d have to choose.

  It might turn out to be that all his hopes rested on one of the Hartfield ladies.

  Chapter 4

  Natalie stood patiently as Bridget laced her up from behind.

  “Are you excited?” Bridget asked.

  “For the ball?” Natalie replied.

  “No,” Bridget said. “To see our sisters again.”

  “Oh.” In truth, Natalie hadn’t given too much thought to her sisters.

  She had genuinely wished Louisa the best of luck with Mr. Fairchild. Her poor sister was a sweet soul and having to wait for a woman to die so that she might marry was an awful position.

  Natalie did not much like Mr. Fairchild’s aunt. But then, nobody did. She was determined that her nephew secure his family’s future by marrying a daughter of a lord or some such.

  If she found out that Mr. Fairchild had proposed to Louisa, it would all be over. He would be disowned. And so, they continued on in secret.

  Fortunately, his aunt was rather ill and Natalie had hopes it would not be too much longer. But still. It was rather an awful thought, that your happiness depended upon someone else dying.

  As for Elizabeth—well, Natalie had really only thought of her in a horrible way. That is, when she hoped that Elizabeth was ruining her chance with Mr. Denny.

  It was selfish, she knew, but she’d been essentially turned away by every potential suitor. They had all visited, full of gaiety. And then, after an hour or so, they had hastily taken their leave.

  It was enough to make a lady doubt herself.

  Natalie did not want to be the only sister without a husband. Bridget would choose someone that night, and that man would certainly propose the moment Bridget gave him a sign she’d say yes. It was how Bridget was.

  Louisa was already spoken for. Regina wasn’t but it hardly mattered, she was the youngest and essentially a child.

  If Elizabeth was spoken for as well, that would only leave Natalie.

  The shame of it, the very idea of it, made her cheeks burn.

  “I must confess I’ve been worried about Regina,” Bridget said. “She writes me often but I suspect that there is something she is not telling me.”

  “Regina, keeping a secret?” The idea was absurd. It meant that Regina had an exciting enough life that she needed to keep part of it secret. “I can’t imagine it.”

  “I can tell when my sisters aren’t telling me everything,” Bridget replied. “Just as I know that you are holding back on me as well.”

  Natalie could feel Bridget’s eyes boring into her from the mirror, but she turned away. “I’m only worried for Louisa, is all.”

  “You’ve never been worried about anyone else in your life,” Bridget said. “You’re worried for yourself.”

  Natalie picked up a ribbon and began to work it through her hair. “Why should I be worried for myself?”

  “It’s the night of the ball and you have yet to have even one proposal. You’ve yet to come close.”

  Natalie turned around, still fiddling with the ribbon just to give herself something to do.

  “I’m sure I shall have a suitor soon.” Natalie hoped that her voice was more confident than she felt.

  Bridget raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

  “Watch me charm every man in that ballroom,” Natalie said. She truly felt confident. She had always been able to work a room.

  “And then they shall call upon you and leave, as have all those who came before them,” Bridget responded. “You must mend your ways, Natalie, or you shall soon be too old to marry.”

  Shame, hot and awful, curled in the pit of her stomach. It made her feel sic
k.

  “And what about yourself?” she replied. She knew that it was shameful, but she could not help herself. She wanted to fling it all back in Bridget’s face like hot candlewax.

  “You are the eldest. By all accounts you should be married. You are not without men who want you. We all know that. And yet you won’t take a husband.”

  Bridget went a little pale but stood resolute. “I’ve been running a household and managing four sisters,” she said. “I would like to see you do that and find a husband at the same time.”

  “It’s selfish,” Natalie said. “You say that all I do is think of myself. But you do the same thing! If you were thinking of us you would have gotten married long ago and gotten out of our way. How can any of us compete against you?”

  “You are the one considered beautiful,” Bridget replied. “Since we’re discussing the opinions of the public.

  “It would have been selfish for me to get married, Natalie. I would have left you all to a governess. And while I did not at all mind hiring one to teach us all the pianoforte and such, they cannot replace a mother’s touch.”

  Bridget was still pale but now drew herself up, her eyes flashing. She seemed taller and darker almost, and Natalie felt a little quiver of fear in her chest. Bridget looked nothing short of furious.

  “I ran the household and balanced the accounts. I struggled to hold Father back and contain him. I raised Regina as her mother. I hired and fired servants. I planned parties and holidays.

  “I ensured that proper tutors were found for all of us so that we might be accomplished. Your painting lessons. The pianoforte that we all learned. Elizabeth’s dancing lessons. All of it, I organized.

  “You speak as though I have been sitting about all my life doing nothing. Did it not occur to you that perhaps I had a love? That I loved and was loved? And that I might have had to give it all up so that you might all be raised properly? So that the house would not sink into decay?

  “Father’s mistake is costing us all. But he would have forced all of you to do what you are doing now much sooner. Years sooner. If I had not been there holding back the tide.