Lord Runthorne's Dilemma: A Regency Romance (11 page)

He
felt trapped.

The lawn had changed and now the ground was rough
and uncultivated. Runthorne turned, ready to walk back.

He had made his decision when he had asked Aurelia to marry him.
Only she could break their betrothal, and he knew that she never would. So he was honour bound to smile and dance at his wedding, just like so many other men. In the distance a bird chuckled, as though mocking him.

“
Damnit all,” he swore.

Again he heard a rich chuckle.
But it was not a bird this time. He recognised the sound. It was coming from a tangle of bushes to his left.

Somebody was making
Elizabeth laugh.

He had no right to be jealous, but anger
tore aside all good sense. He pushed through the bushes, uncaring of the noise he made or the branches snagging his coat. Elizabeth’s poke bonnet lay discarded on the ground.

Rational thought gave way to fear.
Fear that Elizabeth was compromised. He had to save her from her foolishness. The bushes gave up their last struggle and Runthorne burst out into a wide clearing.

“
Draw a circle, then down and flick.”

Elizabeth
sat on a fallen tree, her dark hair crowned with daisies. She was drawing with a stick on a patch of loose earth. Sitting at her feet were a small group of children, all from the town by their clothing. They also held sticks. Some mimicked Elizabeth. The others stared at him in astonishment. One, the smallest, began to cry. Elizabeth started.

“
Goodness, Lord Runthorne, whatever are you doing?” Elizabeth gathered the child onto her lap and blotted the tears with her handkerchief. She smiled at the little girl then shot him a furious glare. “Well?”

He
was torn between embarrassment and pleasure.

“
I was just out for a walk,” he said, “and heard you.” He decided not to add what he had thought she was doing.

Elizabeth
continued to glare at him. He cleared his throat. “Is this a game?”

“
No.”

Runthorne
pushed his fingers through his hair. A twig fell to the ground. He cleared his throat again.

“
Do you have a chill?” Elizabeth was as composed as a matron in her drawing room.

Most women would have been mortified to have been discovered romping with the local urchins.
He tried to imagine Aurelia in the same circumstances and his imagination failed.

He smiled.
“Thank you for your concern, but no, I am quite well.”

Elizabeth
did not return his smile and he had the distinct impression that she had read his thoughts when he had burst into the clearing. “I should not wish for the children to take a cold from you. None of them can afford to be ill. There has been too much sickness recently.”

This time
he kept the smile from his lips. Elizabeth’s eyes dared him to argue, but good sense prevailed and he merely nodded.

For a moment,
Elizabeth continued to glare. Then she clapped her hands. “It is time to go home, children. Please try to practise your letters before tomorrow. Collect your baskets. Tom,” she said to the tallest boy, “please make certain they all get home safely. Alice, give my kind regards to your mother. I shall call on her shortly. Now, hurry.”

T
he children scattered, collecting up baskets that he now saw were full of wild strawberries and some greenery.

“
Nettles for soup,” Elizabeth said, again seeming to read his mind. “Sometimes they find wild garlic and other herbs. Captain Maybourne allows the children to forage for whatever grows wild as long as they do not disturb the game birds. I make sure they come to no harm.” She removed the daisies from her hair as the last child departed. Runthorne offered her his arm.

“
I think I should prefer to walk back along the path,” Elizabeth said. “The bushes are too dense to walk through with any decorum.”

She was laughing at him, but
he did not think it was unkind. He winced, relieved that he was back in her good graces. “You are cruel, lady,” he said.

“
Yes,” she said. Her eyes were thoughtful. “I think, perhaps, I am.”

Runthorne
slowed his steps to hers. The leisurely pace came back to him, as though he had never stopped walking by her side. It felt natural. He always walked too fast for Aurelia, or too slowly.

He pushed the treacherous thought away and concentrated on
Elizabeth’s words.

“
I really feel that I owe you an apology,” she said, as they walked along the path. “It was cruel of me to jilt you as I did.”

He
had not expected this. “Some would say so but I have no doubt you had your reasons,” he said. “I wish you had shared them with me at the time.”

Elizabeth
kept her face averted, seemingly intent on not miss-stepping on the stony path.

“
I am sure I left my bonnet near here,” she said. “Ah, there it is.”

Her hand slipped from his arm and she darted to one side to scoop up the bonnet.
She tied the ribbon in a smart bow under her ear. The bonnet had a deep brim, shading her eyes and casting her features into shadow making her face hard to read.

She did not re-take his arm.

Elizabeth
continued speaking, her voice even and unemotional, as though she was discussing the weather. “Yes, it was cruel. Ill-mannered as well and I am sorry for it. I do hope you will forgive me.”

He
waited, expecting something more, but Elizabeth appeared to have finished. “Of course I forgive you,” he said, finally

T
here was nothing else he could say.

“
Good.” Another silence fell. He had the oddest sensation that he was in one of Aurelia’s plays without a script.

“
May I enquire what those reasons were?”

“
I beg your pardon?”

“
Your reasons for jilting me?”

Elizabeth
shrugged, but did not look up at him. “They were foolish, childish really.” She tilted her head back and Runthorne caught a glimpse of her face, serene in the sunlight. “It is such a beautiful day,” she said, “let us not ruin it by raking over old coals.”

He
bowed to her wishes. He could do nothing else. As they walked back to the house, he thought an observer would believe them to be friends in perfect accord.

Only he knew that he felt as though she had wrenched his heart from his breast.

Surely she
would not speak so calmly if she had ever, truly loved him.

It was for the best, he told himself sternly.
She had done him a favour by jilting him. It would have been agony to have been married to her if she did not love him, not when he loved her. At least his marriage to Aurelia would be honest, neither pretending to love the other.

The sun continued to shine, but
Runthorne shivered.

***

“We have been blessed with the weather this summer,” Elizabeth said. “I do hope it continues fine.”

“
Indeed.”

“
At least until after the harvest is brought in. It would be disastrous if the weather changed now.”

Lord
Runthorne merely grunted.

Elizabeth
’s cheeks felt stiff with the light smile she kept plastered to her lips. She could feel a headache building.

She
glanced up at him. His face was expressionless, giving no indication that he believed, or even cared about her explanation for jilting him. Elizabeth’s headache grew worse.

“
Well, here we are.”

Lord Runthorne bowed. It was a minute inclination which was all a gentleman offered a distant acquaintance.
“As you say, Miss Hampton, here we are.”

Elizabeth
clenched her fists. He had no right to call her by her given name, but she felt the loss when he did not.

“
If you would excuse me, I must wait upon my betrothed.”

Elizabeth
watched his back as he walked up the steps and into the house. She kept her tears firmly at bay. Aunt Edina was right, he must think she did not care for him, had never cared for him and she had to make a life for herself without him.

She just wished that she did not
ache as though she had torn out her own heart and trampled it under foot.

CHAPTER SIX

Elizabeth
began to walk aimlessly across the lawn. She should be relieved, she knew. Lord Runthorne was now convinced that she felt nothing for him. But all she felt was hollow.

She needed distraction.

Ahead she saw Mary and Charles strolling along the path and she hastened her steps.

“
Mary,” she called.

Her friend
turned. Her face was startled and a little pink.

“
Really, my love, you should not let yourself become over warm,” Elizabeth said. Then she stopped. They were not touching but there was an aura of intimacy around Mary and Charles that made Elizabeth pause.

“
Charles?”

“
Yes, Elizabeth?”

Despite everything, all her heartache,
Elizabeth smiled. In the midst of her own darkness, she saw a glimmer of light. “I am so happy for you both,” she said.

Her friend
’s blush deepened. “I am sure I do not understand,” she said, but the laughing look she sent Elizabeth from beneath her lashes gave her the lie.

“
You are a sly minx,” Elizabeth said, hugging her young friend. “How did this happen?”

“
Shush, Elizabeth, you are giving me the blush.”

“
Charles, you may walk behind us, but I must speak to Mary privately.”

Charles bowed them ahead, but not before
Elizabeth saw his satisfied grin.

“
Now, my love, tell me everything.”

Mary glanced over her shoulder before
obliging her. “I am not quite sure how it happened,” she said in her soft voice. “It was the first time we met. I never thought I would fall in love so quickly, but he assures me he felt the same.”

“
Oh, it can happen like that,” Elizabeth said, remembering.

Her friend
nodded. “He is so good and kind and handsome and, oh, how could I not love him?”

Elizabeth
chuckled. “That, I cannot tell you,” she said. Her friend’s delight was lifting her own heart. “What does Captain Maybourne say?”

Mary
’s smile faltered. “Charles has not approached him yet.”

“
But, why not?” Elizabeth glanced back at Charles.

“
I will not let him. Not yet,” she said, quickly. “You see, Captain Maybourne has been so good to me and I know he wants me to make a great marriage. He wants me to marry someone with a title and lands. I do not think I could bear it if he refused Charles’ offer.”

“
He will not,” Elizabeth said. “Charles may not be a lord but he loves you and his expectations are good. He will be able to keep you in comfort, at the very least.”

“
What do I care for comfort?”

Elizabeth
smiled at her friend’s fervour. “Love in a cottage, Mary? No, I have no doubt that Captain Maybourne has your best interests at heart. When he sees how much you care for each other he will be happy for you.”

“
You do not understand, Elizabeth. Captain Maybourne promised my father that he would ensure I made the best marriage possible. A title, an estate. Oh, I do not know.” Mary pulled at the ribbons on her gown, mangling them. “Please, do not say anything, Elizabeth. Let me have this time with Charles.” She sighed. “I will let him speak to Captain Maybourne when the time is right.”

Elizabeth
steered her friend towards the rose garden. “Of course I will not say anything to him if that is what you wish, my love, but if you and Charles love each other then I am sure Captain Maybourne will not stand in your way.”

Mary lifted her chin.
Elizabeth had never seen such determination in her gentle friend’s eyes. “If he does,” she said, her voice adamant, “we will elope.”

***

He may have made up his mind to forget Elizabeth and settle with Aurelia, but that did not stop Runthorne feeling as though a black cloud had descended. Decision making was supposed to make him feel strong and confident, not as though he was sinking into a quagmire. His choice was the right one, it had to be.

Elizabeth
’s cool apology should have allayed any doubts about that.

After leaving her,
instead of seeking out Aurelia, he had retreated to his room. He had hoped a little solitude would help him find some perspective, but as with all his plans these days, that had failed.

Her words ran through his head.
“I do hope you will forgive me.” It was as though she had forgotten a trifling appointment. How could he have ever thought she loved him?

Had she changed?
Had he?

Runthorne
took another, restless turn around the room and stopped at the window. The sun was still high and he glared at the clear blue sky.

“
Damnit,” he swore and brought his fist down on the window ledge. Wallowing would not make him feel better, what he needed was action. In the absence of anything better, he would take a stroll in the gardens. At least it would stop him wearing a track in his host’s carpet. He would wear it in the grass instead.

This time he took a moment to change
his footwear. It would be far more satisfying to stomp in boots than shoes.

He strode along the corridor, his boot-heels loud against the polished wooden floor,
and down the wide stairs, the thuds echoing, then across the hall.

By the time he had stormed down the steps into the garden, he was
harbouring a fierce pleasure in the noise. He ground the gravel of the path beneath his feet, almost as though he were grinding his teeth. He snatched a leaf from a bush and rolled it between his fingers, destroying it and releasing the pungent, peppery aroma.

He inhaled deeply, the scent twining around his senses, calming him, easing the tense bands that had felt so tight around his chest.

He stood for a moment
with his eyes closed enjoying the warmth of the sun. It relaxed him further and, at last, the tension left his jaw and his lips softened.

“
Gosh, old chap, whatever are you doing?”

Runthorne
’s eyes snapped open and he turned sharply. “Mr Compton,” he said and bowed. “I did not know you were still here.”

D
espite the other man’s overwhelming jollity, he did not dislike Mr Compton. There did not appear to be a malicious bone in his body.

Mr Compton waved a hand,
vaguely. “Miss Lacey has requested that I attend every rehearsal of her theatricals. I am such a noodle that I cannot seem to remember what she wants me to say, or where to stand.” He laughed.

“
I thought she had taken over Mrs Maybourne’s folly for her rehearsals,” he said.

“
Oh, indeed, indeed. It is a capital place. A neat little folly, you know. Some goddess of love, I dare say. Might have one built myself.” Mr Compton contemplated the top of his cane.

“
Aphrodite, I understand,” Runthorne said into the pensive silence.

“
What? Oh, yes I dare say, I dare say,” Mr Compton said. “Well, the dear lady sent me away. Miss Lacey that is, not the love goddess. To take the air, she said but I am sure the air is no different here than up there.” Mr Compton waved in the direction of the folly. He then leaned forward.

“
She is such a clever little thing. I am sure I must be driving her to distraction with my idiocy.”

Runthorne thought it better to not answer. Instead he smiled and bowed before turning away.

Mr Compton, however, matched his steps.

They walked in silence for a few moments.
Bees, fat with pollen, buzzed industriously amongst the flowers. He relaxed further.

“
I say, my lord,” Mr Compton said, breaking the silence, “I understand congratulations are in order.” He smiled, oddly. “Your engagement to Miss Lacey,” he added, when Runthorne said nothing.

“
It is still a private matter. No announcement has been sent, yet.”

“
Ah, I see. I see.”

Runthorne
glanced at his companion. Mr Compton seemed peculiarly satisfied with that answer. He hesitated before deciding not to pursue that particular hare. Not at this time. “I must find Captain Fitzalan,” he said, instead, preparing to take his leave.

“
I saw him not five minutes ago,” Mr Compton said, with a vague gesture towards the rose garden.

“
Then if you will excuse me?” Runthorne left Mr Compton humming under his breath.

It was
just a step into the walled rose garden. Sheltered from even the smallest of breezes it was filled with the intense scent of hot flowers.

Climbing roses covered the trellises dividing the garden into distinct areas
and lavender bushes edged the sinuous paths. It was like walking through a maze of flowers. He bent his steps towards the pool of water at the centre of the garden, hoping for a little relief from the oppression.

Stone benches circled the pool, positioned to gain maximum benefit from the coolness of the water.
Charles stood by one, his booted foot resting on the seat. He was gazing pensively at the ladies sitting on the other side of the pool.

Elizabeth
and Miss Granger seemed pretty and cool in their fragile gowns. They made a charming picture. From his expression, Charles agreed.

“
Hello, Charles.”

Charles jumped.
“Damnit, Runthorne, do not sneak up on a fellow.” His habitual grin flashed briefly. “You move like a cat.”

“
I could have been trumpeting like an elephant for all the notice you would have taken.” He glanced over at the two ladies. “You seemed lost in thought.”

Charles shrugged but did not answer.

“Whatever possessed you to come to this devilish place,” Runthorne said his eyes still on Elizabeth. She waved a hand, idly, brushing aside an inquisitive butterfly.

Charles dragged his own eyes away from the ladies.
“Elizabeth suggested it,” he said, confirming Runthorne’s suspicions.

She was clever, he thought, trying to ignore the ice he felt in his veins.
There was nothing improper in Charles accompanying her and Miss Granger, but the younger girl would prove an inadequate chaperone, should Elizabeth wish it. His lips twisted in a facsimile of a smile. He had to know.

“
Forgive me for asking, Charles, but do you love her?” He nodded towards Elizabeth, whose head was bent towards Miss Granger’s, intent on her friend’s words.

Charles started, a guilty flush staining his cheeks.
“What makes you say that?”

“It is not hard to see. The way you speak about her, watch her.” He sighed. “Charles, I cannot blame you.”

“
She wishes to keep it secret for a time, until she has spoken to the Captain.”

“
I see.” His chest tightened, but if that was what Elizabeth wanted, he would not stand in her way. “I wish you both every happiness,” he said, the words like ashes in his mouth.

He turned away,
missing Charles’ puzzled look. “Thank you,” his friend said, as Runthorne retraced his steps.

With every stride,
he felt his heart dragged from his chest. He had spoken only the truth. He did not blame Charles for loving Elizabeth. Not when he did so himself. Perhaps Aurelia was right. At least Charles was in a position to offer Elizabeth an honourable future.

He grimaced.
As for himself, he had better resign himself to a future with Aurelia, because at this moment he could see no way out of the marriage without mortifying her.

That he would not do.