Lady Edith's Lonely Heart: A Regency Romance (Lonely Hearts Series Book 1) Read online

  Edith’s eyes flashed, all amusement gone. “A woman with an independent fortune doesn’t have to accept a proposal if she doesn’t wish to. And she certainly shouldn’t have a time limit on when she needs to be married by.”

  “No, but I can’t see you becoming an eccentric about town, or being a hermit in the country, nor can I see you not wishing to have a handful of children of your own,” Miles said.

  All anger dissipated, Edith smiled. “Yes, you know me well enough to be sure I’d like to have a large brood.”

  “Well, that’s settled then, we’ll have to find a man who can come up to snuff!”

  “Hmm,” Edith responded, casting a guilty glance at the seat she’d vacated on her brother’s entrance.

  Chapter 3

  A week later and Edith was seated at the same escritoire, but this time scribbling with determination. She cast away sheets of paper as if they were fallen leaves, completely disregarding the expense of such wasteful actions. Her fingers were marked with ink, as were the sleeves on her cotton day dress. Her lip was well chewed and a frown was firmly in place as the task she was undertaking seemed to overwhelm her.

  She had spent a trying morning being subjected to a tirade of recriminations from her mother. Lady Longdon had discovered that one of Edith’s potential suitors had mentioned that he was going to speak to her brother and that Edith had told him in no uncertain terms that he should not waste his breath.

  “But, Edith, he was eminently eligible,” her mother wailed, sniffing her smelling salts in an all too familiar dramatic way. The layers of lace on her dressing gown seemed to shudder with every word she uttered, creating an effect of a wobbling blancmange, which did nothing to encourage gravity on Edith’s part.

  “If I was blind and deaf, perhaps,” Edith conceded, longing to escape from her mother’s bedchamber and knowing there would be no chance of her removal until the older woman had said her piece at least twice.

  “How can you speak so? He was besotted by you. He spoke in the most fervent of accents, when he sought my support for his suit. He realises he should have sought Miles out in the first instance, but I assured him that as I have been the head of the family these last few years, my word carries some sway in the family,” Lady Longdon said.

  “I’m sure he was well versed in what to say. He’s had plenty of practice this week, proposing to Miss King and Miss Grayson before it was my turn. The fool mustn’t have thought I’d find out about his previous choices even though Susan King is my best friend,” Edith pointed out, not unreasonably.

  “He expressed most sincerely how he had made a mistake in those cases. Men are wont to change their mind, Edith. They aren’t as steadfast as we are, it isn’t in their nature,” Lady Longdon said, trying to be patient and offer her daughter the benefit of her advice.

  “I accept that a person can fall in love more than once in a lifetime. It would be a sad state of affairs if it wasn’t the case. But in the same week? Three of us? Mama, it’s coming it too brown, it really is if you expect me to believe he has any affection for me,” Edith argued.

  “Your phraseology is appalling for a young lady,” Lady Longdon scolded. “Why can’t you be a dutiful daughter and accept my counsel? I am far more experienced in these matters. I can give you guidance and I say Mr Chumley is a good match for you.”

  “The fact that you actually believe that is quite depressing,” Edith admitted. “Mama, he’d never make me happy and I know without a shadow of a doubt he’d regret marrying me within a week at the most. I need someone who wants more than my fortune. I’m more than my inheritance.”

  “Don’t be foolish, at your age you have little to recommend you other than the money you bring to a marriage,” Lady Longdon scolded. “There are debutantes aplenty to turn any young man’s head, and it equally applies to the older men for that matter. Everyone is looking for a young woman who can provide many children, a happy home and, for some men, look after him in his dotage. At your age you must see the hopelessness of your situation.”

  Edith was dumbfounded. “No. I don’t actually.”

  “And that is why I shall always consider you a foolish chit. Please leave me be, Edith. I have the headache and you are the cause of it. I can’t bear to see your disobedient face any longer. It pains me.”

  The chastised daughter thus stood and kissed her parent. “I’m sorry to cause you pain, but I can’t marry just anyone, even to please you, Mama,” Edith tried to explain.

  “You shall remain a lonely old woman then,” came the damning response.

  Edith was stung by her mother’s view of her and walked out of the chamber seeking refuge in the morning room. Placing her arm on the cool marble of the fireplace, she rested her head on top of her arm. She felt adrift. Her father would have understood, he was more like Miles’ character and her own. He’d been more inclined to challenge what was considered normal and strive for the best he could achieve. How their parents had made a match of it through the years said more about the patience of her father than it did of her mother’s character. Although, how they’d become to be married in the first place, Edith would always wonder at; they seemed so different.

  Walking to the window, she looked out onto the busy street. Carriages and horses passed by, all intent on reaching their destinations, all engrossed in their own lives. People walked, some hurrying, some dawdling on their way. Not for the first time, she wondered about their lives, did they feel as lost as she sometimes did? Were they content with their place in the world? She wished she was.

  It wasn’t just London she was dissatisfied with. She loved the country and had always felt at home there. She could have coped with a season in London, if there hadn’t been other emotions swirling through her and causing her to feel completely unsettled. Those were harder to shift in the city. Here she was away from everything which was familiar to her. Time and again she was reminded of her shortfalls; she couldn’t find a husband who she could both love and respect; she was a disappointment to her mother by remaining single; she couldn’t bring the smile back to Miles’ eyes no matter how much she tried; she missed her two brothers and father so desperately it physically hurt. It all added to her feelings of discontent and sadness.

  She set her shoulders. She’d given the season enough opportunity to provide options for her future. It was time she took hold of her own destiny and found her own life partner, one who would be a likeminded companion, not a resented fop. There must be someone out there who would be a good match. After all, she didn’t have to consider finding a man of fortune, which made the fact that she hadn’t met anyone she thought highly of even more frustrating.

  A short time later she was disturbed by her brother, but this time her activity was harder to hide.

  Miles walked into the room and paused in surprise as he saw the spread of papers on the desk. “Have you spent your whole quarter’s allowance on paper?” he asked.

  Edith blushed, hurriedly trying to gather the papers together. “I’ll replace what I’ve wasted.”

  “What is so difficult that has caused so much to be cast-off?” Miles asked, crossing to the desk in curiosity.

  “Stop!” Edith said, raising her hand to stay her brother. “It is of a personal nature. Don’t come any closer until I have cleared everything away.”

  Miles narrowed his eyes at his sister. “Have you embarked on some sort of clandestine correspondence?” he demanded.

  Edith glared at her brother. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

  “In that case there is no need for secrecy.”

  “I’d like to keep some things private, if you don’t mind.”

  “There isn’t a chance of that when you’re acting all havey-cavey,” Miles said and with one deft movement he moved forward, grabbing one of the sheets of paper from the pile Edith had clutched in her hands, and strode over to the window to read it.

  Edith let out a shriek of complaint, but trying to grasp the sheet with one hand, so she could still prote
ct the others, was a fruitless task. Miles held firm, holding his sister at bay with one outstretched arm.

  “Eligible, independent Miss S, with lively mind, passable features and quick wit, seeks gentleman who can appreciate such qualities and enhance the said lady’s time in London. Only single men need apply and for sincerity and security a correspondence will be required before any meeting occurs. All serious replies will be given due consideration. A good mind and kind nature are more important than good looks and fashionable dress,” Miles read out loud, his voice incredulous. There was a moment of quiet when he’d read the paper before he turned to Edith, his hand no longer preventing her approach. “What the deuce are you thinking, Edith?” he asked in disbelief.

  Edith’s face was aflame with embarrassment. She had known how it would be. Miles was about to voice the same thoughts which had kept her awake at night. That was until she had come to the decision that it was the only option she had to gain the sort of future she longed for. “How else am I to find a husband beyond the men I have already met?” she asked defensively, not quite meeting Miles’ gaze.

  “You are asking every blockheaded buffoon to respond to this! Any fool will think they have a chance with your words!” Miles exclaimed.

  “No, they won’t. I’m hoping it will appeal to man who is respectful and who I can respect in turn.”

  “A good mind and kind nature are more important than good looks and fashionable dress,” Miles quoted derisively. “That’s every unmarried hunch-backed, squiffy-eyed, tongue-tied, fubsy-faced literate man within ten miles of London about to send you a missive to offer for you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! Of course, that won’t happen. Most men require a fortune, I haven’t hinted at my having one,” Edith snapped.

  “You have stated you are independent. Only a woman with funds would use that term. You might as well have said ‘available single heiress is desperate’, for that’s how it will be received,” Miles said a trifle cruelly.

  “I’m not desperate!” Edith snapped, stung at her brother’s words.

  “Surely… surely there is someone within our circle who would suit you? Perhaps you haven’t been fully open to considering some of the men you’ve been introduced to?” Miles suggested gently.

  “I’m not so high in the instep that I have been wandering around town thinking I’m too good for the men I meet, if that’s what you are thinking.”

  “No. I wouldn’t suppose that for a moment,” Miles responded.

  “And I’m not so shallow or foolish enough to aim for the nonpareils of the season! I might not consider myself quite as much a lost cause as mother does, but I’m also not deluded,” Edith said tartly.

  “Where were you going to advertise this?” Miles demanded.

  “In The Times of course,” Edith explained. “It’s all done very discreetly. They compile all the answering letters and then send them on to me in one parcel. There is no danger anyone responding to my advertisement will find out who I am.”

  “This is madness,” Miles said.

  “It’s a perfect way of finding someone I might not meet in a ballroom.”

  “So, someone outside your social sphere?”

  “Not necessarily,” Edith cajoled. “None of us meets everyone in our society and who knows, my striking warrior of a soldier brother could be off-putting for some men.”

  “Only a wet lettuce,” Miles scoffed.

  “Everyone reads the advertisements. You must have done so yourself.”

  “Only to ridicule the wording of the more outrageous ones,” Miles said, picking up a copy of the newspaper Edith had been using to try and gain some inspiration. Miles started to read some of the comments in a false, high-pitched voice. “Slim ankles and a pretty nose,” he mocked. “I can sew well and play the harp. My drawing skills are exceptional. My wish to find a husband to cosset is my most wished for aim in life.”

  “Stop!” Edith gurgled with a laugh. “There are some serious descriptions in there. You’re just choosing the more foolish ones to justify your derision.”

  “I’m trying to show you that your idea is foolhardy,” Miles responded. “I know I tease you about your age and possibilities, but your situation isn’t so wretched as to resort to something like this.”

  “I know that. This isn’t an action borne out of wretchedness, I assure you.”

  “It’s an act of folly.”

  “I’m trying to put my destiny and wishes into my own hands. I refuse to wait until I’m so disheartened that I accept one of the patronising buffoons I’m currently forced to be pleasant to,” Edith said primly. “I’m sending this off.”

  “I hope you won’t live to regret it,” Miles cautioned. “But, you are of age and can make your own decisions. As long as it brings no shame onto the family name there is little I can do to stop you.”

  “I suppose that’s almost a statement of support,” Edith smiled.

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” Miles said dryly.

  “Please don’t tell Mother,” Edith begged.

  “Good grief! Do you take me for a nodcock? Neither of our lives would be worth living if she found any of this out. Just promise me you won’t put yourself into any situations in which you could be compromised. Without doubt there will be blackguards who respond.”

  “I shall be careful,” Edith promised.

  Miles didn’t look convinced.

  Chapter 4

  “Good God, Edith, tell me you won’t be replying to all of these?” Miles said, storming into the morning room where his sister sat. He marched over to her and roughly placed a large pile of letters next to her. “I told you it was folly!”

  Edith blushed, looking in awe and wonderment at the number of letters cascading over the sofa she was seated on. “Are they all for me?”

  “Of course, they’re all for you!” Miles snapped. “God knows what the staff think!”

  “Thankfully, I’m not obliged to consider the thoughts of the servants in making life decisions,” Edith responded stiffly.

  “Those same servants talk to other servants in neighbouring houses. Don’t underestimate the detrimental impact gossip can have, my dear, or you shall be leaving London shamed and ridiculed,” Miles warned.

  Edith sighed. “I’m sorry. I know gossip can get out of hand, but I had presumed the letters would come wrapped as a parcel, not separately like this. There are quite a few.”

  “The understatement of the year,” Miles responded. “Well, come on, open them.” He sat on the nearest chair, resisting the temptation to open some of the letters himself.

  “I-I should open them in private,” Edith stammered.

  “Oh no you don’t,” Miles said quickly. “I’m not convinced you won’t tumble head first into a disaster. I’m not leaving you until I’m certain you won’t rush into anything foolish.”

  Edith glared, highly insulted that she wasn’t trusted by her brother, but opened the first letter anyway.

  My dearest Miss S,

  I immediately knew we were destined to be together as one, the moment I read your darling advertisement. I long to appreciate and worship you as you should be…

  “Oh dear,” Edith responded, passing Miles the letter. “He’s unsuitable.”

  My dear Miss S,

  I have much to offer you. I can give pleasure to your mind but especially to your body that you have only dreamed of. I long to hear you call out my name, your voice filled with passion…

  “Oh, my goodness me!” Edith gasped, flinging the letter on the floor. “I won’t be responding to that writer!”

  Bending to pick the letter up, Miles started to read. Growling, he tore the letter up. “Damned cur! If I knew who he was, I’d draw his cork for his base language and insinuations.”

  Edith chose to remain silent, not wishing for more recriminations as she went through each letter. Her heart sank as the pile of people she was rejecting became larger than the decreasing number remaining.

  After
half an hour, she sat back. “I suppose two potential matches is better than nothing,” she said, trying to sound positive.

  “Barely,” Miles said with derision. “What now?”

  “I write back, using The Times as the intermediary and see what information I can gather and to see if we feel there is a connection between us,” Edith explained. “I know you think it’s a fool’s errand, but it might work.”

  “The first part of that statement is correct. I want your assurance, Edith, that you will not arrange to meet anyone before you are sure of their credibility. Any number of lies could be uttered between the sheets of a letter.”

  “Any number of falsehoods can be uttered face to face. I think a person reveals more of themselves through the written word.” Edith defended her actions.

  “Don’t be so sure. An innocent like you can be taken advantage of any number of ways.”

  “Make up your mind, brother. One moment I’m a green girl, the next an old maid!” Edith snapped tersely.

  Miles smiled. “You can be both.”

  “Oh, be quiet,” Edith huffed. “When I am happily settled, you’ll see the error of your ways.”

  “When you are married, I shall feel nothing but relief.”

  *

  Ralph folded his tall frame into one of the leather chairs in Boodle’s. It wasn’t the club for the men who considered themselves the height of fashion, more likely to welcome country squires, or those who enjoyed deep gaming than the men who frequented Brook’s or White’s; it was a club on the edges of society which suited Ralph. He’d been away for two long weeks and had been suffering a persistent headache as a result. He’d invited Miles to join him. Friends since they’d met at school, there was a bond between them which others would be puzzled at. The open, friendly officer of the cavalry and the unsociable, reclusive gambler weren’t an obvious pairing, but the two held each other in high regard.

  Lifting a glass of amber liquid to his lips, he let the spirit slide down his throat before speaking to his friend. “Was the soiree at your abode a success of the season?” he asked of the event he’d missed.