A Bride for Lord Albany (Regency Novella Book 3) Read online

  As it was a Thursday, he would be on his way to sessions. Thoughts of Emma in his arms as they danced would soon be replaced with the business of the day.

  * * * * *

  After she dismissed her maid for the evening, Emma sat at the mahogany dressing table in her bedchamber. She looked at her face in the shield shaped glass suspended over the table. Over the years, she had grown to like her appearance. Although she had never been known as a beauty, she was not ugly. Her looks improved when she wasn’t standing next to her beautiful sister. After all, a daisy looked comelier when not compared to a rose.

  “The day was a success,” she said to her reflection. The wedding and breakfast had been without incident. She recognized that her youngest son and his wife were well matched.

  Grace might have been a mere Miss, but her mother had been Emma’s best friend. When she looked at Grace she saw Louisa. She had failed to be a good friend to Louisa. She would not fail her friend’s daughter.

  Last evening she’d gifted Grace a ruby necklace and earrings that had belonged to Emma’s grandmother.

  “You’re exactly what I wanted for Geoffrey, my dear. Tomorrow we celebrate our joy to have you join the family.”

  Her thoughts turned to the one person she’d been most anxious to see today: Lord Albany. Although he wasn’t family, he was a favorite of both her daughters-in-law. He had looked well.

  She shook her head at the reflection in the mirror. “He looked more than well. The man is still as handsome as ever.”

  Albany’s hair was still as black as a raven, as shiny too. The small touch of gray at his temples merely made him look more dashing. His dark blue eyes were striking. She’d been hard-pressed not to stare at him across the table during the wedding banquet.

  Her sister had convinced her to stay in London for a few more days. Truth be told, with no children to scheme after there wasn’t much waiting for her in the dower house in Essex.

  Chapter Four

  When he’d first arrived at Strawberry House Lisbeth had been wary of the stranger that was her brother. He was happy to see her run out into the courtyard of the small house to greet him.

  “John! John! I’ve missed you!”

  The woman before him looked so much like him he’d known she was his sister. Her dark glossy hair was in a chignon at the nape of her neck.

  He placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed her forehead. “I haven’t been gone so very long, silly goose.”

  Lisbeth shook free from his grasp. She took one of his hands and fairly dragged him across the yard and up the steps of the house.

  “Come see my newest painting.”

  He nodded to the few servants he passed as his sister led him to her studio. Lisbeth’s workroom was formerly a parlor in the back of the house. Strawberry House was a small residence with only five bedrooms.

  “Look, John!”

  He came to stand in front of a canvas awash with bright colors. The sun shone brightly, the blue water sparkled, the flowers bloomed in riotous abandon.

  “I call it Joy.”

  “It is lovely, Lisbeth.” He squeezed the hand he still held in his own. “Just what I needed to see.”

  His sister was talented. For himself, he couldn’t draw a straight line. Encouraging his sister to draw and paint had brought her out of herself. Given her confidence.

  “Something is wrong.” Lisbeth squinted at his face. “You look like you’re thinking too much.”

  He checked his pocket watch. “You’re right. I have been thinking too much. I’m starving. Let’s see what cook has for a meal and I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking about.”

  His sister liked her meals at the same time every day and he’d timed his arrival to coincide with nuncheon. He’d learned Lisbeth was far happier if she followed a schedule.

  The cook he’d hired had a pronounced limp courtesy of a kick from a horse as a child. Her bad leg didn’t affect her cuisine. She had a maid to help with the cooking and the scullery. His sister and the staff were treated to better meals than many he’d enjoyed in London’s finest homes.

  “You remember my telling you about Lady Upton?”

  They were seated in the small dining room on the ground floor near the front of the house. The kitchen was behind them through a small corridor.

  Lisbeth finished chewing a mouthful of cold browned chicken before she answered him. “That’s the girl who married someone else. You saw her at Christmas.”

  Lily had invited him to Christmas dinner. He would never have left Lisbeth, but she saw the invitation and pressed him to go.

  “You do have a good memory. She is the lady who helped you find me at the watch shop. I had once thought of inviting her to visit Strawberry House.”

  “She was nice to me.” Lisbeth’s voice started to rise. “I don’t know her. Why would she come here?”

  His next words were said in a gentle voice, “She is an artist like you. I thought you could talk about your paintings.”

  Lisbeth nodded jerkily, her lips tightly closed. She didn’t speak again for a few minutes. He took a few bites of his food and remained silent. His sister would speak when she had something to say. Those long-ago servants who cared for his sister didn’t have the patience to deal with her. Lisbeth only reacted with anger when she felt pressured. Or ridiculed.

  “That might be all right…” She squinted at him, a habit he found endearing. “She won’t make fun of me because I’m different?”

  “Lady Upton is also different than most women. She has never been a vain creature or too high in the instep, so I don’t expect she would make merry of you.”

  “Mary says Miss Hayward was a vain woman.” Lisbeth scowled for a moment. “Miss Hayward didn’t like me at all.”

  “I’m not sure Miss Hayward liked me very much. Too bad she wasn’t as pretty on the inside as she was on the outside.”

  He wouldn’t speak to Mary of her comments about Miss Hayward. He allowed the woman quite a bit of leniency in her behavior. Anna Simms had died a few years ago. Once a maid, Mary had been groomed by the woman to care for Lisbeth. He owed her a great debt.

  “Everyone is pretty in their own way.” Lisbeth smiled. “You taught me that, John.”

  He’d taught himself. Lisbeth had a beautiful soul. He’d discovered that was more important than a perfect face. He envied her ability to live in the present. The past was over. What mattered was the future.

  “Thank you, Lisbeth. I knew you would make me feel better.”

  * * * * *

  Albany stood just inside Lady Cairs’ ballroom, reminding himself why he’d come. Why he would brave the marriage mart. A chance to hold Emma in his arms was worth facing a horde of debutantes and their matchmaking mamas.

  Despite his advanced years, he was still an unattached male with a title. His gaze moved over the crowd. Emma stood to one side of the dance floor clad in a dark red ball gown. Beside her stood Lily and Lady Cairs.

  He’d never been a favorite of Lady Cairs and he hadn’t received an invitation to her ball. He was convinced his status as a bachelor would smooth over the breach of etiquette. There was nothing for it, he had to present himself to his hostess.

  “Lord Albany, how lovely you could attend my soiree,” Lady Cairs said as he came to a halt in front of the woman. “I believe you know both Lady Uptons. London is so dull this year. Your presence will surely liven up my intimate gathering.”

  The ‘intimate’ event was attended by dozens of people. Although his first thought was to see if there was a gaming room, he wouldn’t hide. He’d committed to dancing with Lily and Emma.

  “Good evening, ladies.” He bowed. “Would you do me the honor of a dance, Lady Upton?”

  Emma looked as if she would make an excuse not to dance before she replied, “I would be delighted, Lord Albany.”

  He held out his arm and the dowager marchioness took it. The undisguised interest on their hostess’s face was laughable. Lily merely nodded absently.<
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  “I think I may have given Lady Cairs a new topic of gossip,” he said, turning his head toward Emma as they walked the few short steps to the dance floor. A tendril of her jasmine perfume tickled his nose.

  Even as a young woman Emma had worn the heady scent when the other girls wore light, citrusy perfumes. Her dark hair and dark eyes had been a foil to the blonde, blue-eyed crop of heiresses Louisa had invited to her house-party.

  He pulled her into his arms for the steps of a waltz as he said, “I do recall you love to dance.”

  Emma’s severe features relaxed.

  “I haven’t danced since Christmas and not often before that. I didn’t realize how much I missed it.” She smiled and said no more.

  He held his tongue, surprised by her smile and enjoying the unfamiliar feel of having a partner as skilled as he was. They moved together with the utmost grace. Faces passed by in rapid succession. He noted Lily dancing with Charles, more than once her gaze on him and his partner.

  Their set ended.

  “You are a very accomplished dancer, Lord Albany. I am more tired than I would have expected.”

  He led her to one side of the dance floor to a low table with refreshments. “Perhaps a lemonade will restore you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Their drinks in hand, they strolled from the table and along one wall. A gentleman approached them. He knew the man as Grace’s father, Robert Hastings. Introductions were made. They were soon joined by Lily and Charles.

  Lily stood next to him. She caught his gaze and jerked her head ever so slightly toward the dance floor. He finished his drink and placed the empty glass on a small table.

  “Would you care to join me in a country dance?”

  Lily nodded. “Oh yes, I should love to dance again.”

  Once they were part of their square, he had little opportunity to speak to his partner. He did manage a few words as they passed.

  “What are you up to?”

  “Whatever can you mean?”

  He chuckled. “Hoping to play matchmaker, I see.”

  “You do have a past with my mother-in-law.” She winked at him.

  They danced apart and came back together.

  “A past you know nothing about.”

  “It is obvious she is attracted to you despite every indication that she dislikes you.”

  He winced. “Pray, do not spare my feelings.”

  Although Lily was a capable dancer, she lacked Emma’s natural grace. Although you could not yet see her pregnancy, he wondered if the condition might affect her dancing. When the set was over, he deposited Lily with the still intact group.

  “Excuse me. I see someone I must speak with.”

  He walked to the other side of the ballroom where his friend Sloane stood conversing with another gentleman. As he approached, the unknown man moved away.

  “I didn’t expect you here this evening,” Sloane said by way of greeting.

  “It was an opportunity to see Lady Upton.”

  “You two danced splendidly together. She is an accomplished woman.”

  “But not a beautiful woman?”

  “Do not look for slight where none is intended. She is handsome.”

  “There is something about her…” He shook his head. “It stayed with me all these years.”

  “If you ask her to dance again Lady Cairs will be beside herself with glee. The widow and the fortune-hunter.”

  He couldn’t help but laugh. “I came to speak to you to prevent myself from doing just that.”

  “What next?”

  Holding Emma in his arms brought all the feelings of that long-ago house party back to him. “I’m not sure. I do know I’m not getting any younger.”

  * * * * *

  “Did you enjoy dancing?”

  Emma nodded to her daughter-in-law. “It was quite stimulating.”

  “No wonder you were known as the best dancer in the county,” Lily replied.

  “Who told you that?”

  “Lord Albany. You looked very nice together.”

  She would ignore the glimmer of pride she felt at being called the best at anything. It was time she asked Lily what she was going on about.

  “Are you playing matchmaker, Lily?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  She shrugged. “You are very heavy-handed.”

  “I know something happened between you two.”

  “While you danced with the viscount, Lady Cairs told me about his mistress. He keeps her in a small house in Essex. Strawberry House. He is devoted to her.”

  Lily shook her head. “I don’t believe it.”

  “I know you like the man. He has some excellent qualities. The fact that he has a sister does not make him without faults or eager to marry. You must give up your campaign, my dear. Lord Albany has no more interest in me than I have in him.”

  Finding out Lord Albany had a mistress shouldn’t surprise her. Surely her suddenly downcast state had nothing to do with the viscount. She was merely unused to being in town for so long.

  The subject of their conversation approached them. She felt a tug in her chest. Her face felt warm as it always did when he was near.

  “May I have the next dance, Lady Upton?”

  To her dismay, Lily had turned away to speak to a passing friend. In the middle of a crowded ballroom she would have hardly called their interaction intimate. Although when Albany looked at her she felt as if they were the only two people in the room.

  “Lord Albany, I’m not sure it would be a prudent idea.”

  He held out his arm. “I rarely encounter a dance partner to equal your ability. Please indulge me.”

  “Very well. I admit you are a better dance partner than any I have encountered this evening.” She took his arm. The best way for her to prove to herself that her mood had nothing to do with Lord Albany was to dance with him.

  “You should spend more time in society.”

  “Why? I’m nearly fifty years old.”

  “You are only forty-three years of age.” He smiled, a dimple appearing in his left cheek. “You are still young and quite lovely.”

  They took the dance floor and she ignored his comment about her being lovely. She’d believed him once before to her peril. “I am happy in Essex. I don’t come to town as I do not need to find a husband. I think one for a lifetime is enough.”

  “A husband can be your friend and confidante.”

  Her husband had never been her friend. She married to have children. Lord Upton married to gain a fortune. She grimaced. “No thank you.”

  She did enjoy dancing with the rogue despite her best intentions. Lady Cairs would be agog at the possible implications.

  They danced in an easy silence. Enjoying the activity. When their set was over, Albany escorted her to Lily’s side, bowed ever so gracefully and departed with his customary smile.

  His smile still had the same effect on her. She looked about for a chaise of some type. Her legs felt a bit wobbly.

  Chapter Four

  Emma attended the theater at Covent Garden with her sister. Traveling around London in the wake of a duchess was a heady task. Amelia appeared never to tire of all the toadying-up.

  “I think I would forget my own name,” Emma said after the hundredth time someone said, “Your Grace” to Amelia.

  Her sister laughed behind her fan. “My husband tells me he does forget his name quite often.”

  “The duke was feeling ill this evening?”

  “It is but a touch of rheumatism. He asked me to go along without him. He is not an admirer of the production King John or for that matter, Shakespeare.”

  Amelia’s husband was now fifty. The exact age when Emma’s husband had died. She wasn’t worried about the duke dying of debauchery. He wasn’t the drinker or womanizer Lord Upton had been.

  During the intermission, the party in the next box offered to bring them refreshments. Amelia accepted the offer. Emma recognized her sister’s favorite part o
f the theater experience was observing the people around her, especially the goings-on in the pit.

  Once the boxes surrounding them were empty, Amelia asked, “What are your plans, Emma?”

  “I shall enjoy the delights of London until I accompany my daughter-in-law to Essex.”

  “You’re being deliberately obtuse. You know I’m asking about the future.”

  Amelia had spoken in affectionate tones. Their parents, long dead, had not been the warmest people. Amelia had been a lovely, sweet sister despite always saying what was on her mind. She also hadn’t let Emma cast her aside as Emma had done with Louisa.

  “I will reside at the dower house. I’m looking forward to being nearby to watch my first grandchild grow up.”

  “A new baby…” Amelia’s words sounded wistful. Despite a loving marriage, she and her husband had never had children. “There is nothing else you wish to do now that your sons are married off?”

  She thought a moment. Solitude had been her companion for so long she didn’t fear it. To her surprise, her thoughts strayed to Lord Albany before she squashed them.

  “Perhaps I will return to my painting. It has been some years since I completed a project.”

  “You were quite talented at drawing and painting. I often forget that as you are the most graceful dancer I have ever seen.”

  “All my small accomplishments were for naught.”

  Amelia knew her sister’s marriage had been an unhappy one. Emma had told her sister Lord Upton had been useful to get her with child and for nothing else.

  “You are still young enough to remarry.”

  “I am almost 50.”

  Amelia laughed and tapped her playfully on the arm with her fan. “Nonsense. I am a year older than you. I am not ready for fifty.”

  “I have my sons and their families. That will be enough excitement in my life.”

  Emma had spent so many years in near seclusion it was hard to imagine any other life. Her greatest regret was not reconciling with Louisa before the woman’s death nearly two years ago.

  Louisa had attempted a relationship after Emma married. Emma had rebuffed most of Louisa’s attempts, had made excuses why Louisa couldn’t visit her in the country. She had been very unhappy in her marriage and in the early years had no desire to be around those who were happy.