Historical Romance: Regency Brides For The Lords

regency brides for the lords

a regency romance book

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eleanor  meyers

Copyright

Copyright © 2020 by

Eleanor Meyers

All Rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Cover Design by melody simmons

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Table of Contents

Copyright

For You Personally

Also By Eleanor Meyers

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Epilogue

Preview of Next Book

ORDER OF BOOKS LIST . Also By

For You Personally

Publisher Notes

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The Butterfly Promise

chapter 1

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May 1814

Oh, Miss Rudd, surely you are not going out on the downs again?

Of course, I am, Polly, Mina said briskly, tying her bonnet ribbons under her chin. I told you at breakfast that I was.

Please, Miss Rudd, won’t you wait for me to put on my hat, so I can go with you?

"Certainly not, Polly, Mina said. She had to keep her voice stern or Polly, the old dear, would struggle after her, no matter what the recent rains had done to her arthritic knees. There’s certainly no need, and if you come, who will look after my dinner this evening?"

The servant hesitated, and Mina took the opportunity to sling her basket of collection jars over her arm and grab her hooped net from the corner, kissing Polly on the cheek before she swept out the door of Henningly Cottage.

Mina grinned as she heard poor Polly squawk about propriety. It didn’t matter that Polly had raised her from the age of eight, when her own mother had died of pleurisy. Polly always said she raised Mina to be a lady, and that meant being aware of her class and her family’s standing in the world.

As Mina took the winding path to the more desolate downs to the south of Vickerly, she thought with some slight amusement that Polly’s admiration to maintain the traditional boundaries between them was admirable, in its own way. The old woman was the last servant at Henningly Cottage, and there hadn’t been more than three even when Mina’s parents were alive.

Polly was the last, and sometimes it felt as if she was the only one in the world besides Mina herself who still remembered Sir Hector Rudd and his wife Camille. For that alone, Mina would have done everything she could to keep her old nurse on, but it was more than that. Polly was family, and Mina was as determined to take care of her as Polly was to make sure that Mina acted the lady.

If Mina was to be strictly truthful with herself, however, it wasn’t just love for Polly that brought her out on the downs that surprisingly chilly May afternoon. Despite the shame of a baronet’s daughter going into service, she would have been a tolerable governess. Beauty drew her, and she felt it sharply as a little scrap of yellow fluttered in the corner of her eye.

Mina was after it in a flash, and soon there was a small, round-winged yellow butterfly caught in her net. Shifting her spectacles more securely on her nose, she squinted at it. It was a common specimen, but it was perfect, no tears on its wings or missing legs or antennae.

With gentle fingers, Mina dislodged it from the net and popped it into one of her jars, where a small scrap of gauze soaked in ether waited for the colorful insect. Soon enough, the butterfly would suffocate, leaving behind a perfect body for the pinning board.

Mina made a face. This was certainly her least favorite part of the job, but as Polly always said when she whined about her letters, it had to be done. She replaced the tightly closed jar in her basket and continued her hunt.

She had turned twenty-two last year, an old maid by Vickerly standards, but Mina didn’t feel particularly spinsterish. She was of average height and sturdy build, her blond plaits tucked securely under her straw bonnet. She felt like a lady explorer perhaps, venturing after her prey in the dark jungles of Borneo, but not an old maid.

The shadows lengthened as she continued her hunt and caught three more specimens.

It really is too early for them, but it’s not like we can stop eating until they come back from their winter sleep...

Four would have to be enough, or at least she thought so until a bright slash of crimson cut its way straight across her path, far in front of her.

It can’t be. Mina chased after it. Not so lively, not this far north...

She had seen the enormous Italian butterflies in books alone, flags of bright color that fluttered through the vineyards of Parma. It was utterly impossible to think of one simply flapping through the downs close to Vickerly. Mina was ready to think she had imagined it all when she saw it again, just beyond a low stone fence.

An escape from some secret butterfly garden? A tropical immigrant blown far north?

Mina focused on the flash of red as she chased her prey around bushes and across the worn dirt paths. She was so focused that she never noticed that the bushes had taken on a rather more groomed appearance and the dirt paths had become paved.

She paused, looking around frantically for her prey, and then to her left, an enormous shout went up.

Here now! What in the blazes do you think you’re doing? What mischief are you about now?

She turned just in time to see a gnarled and enormous man in the clothing of a gardener storming toward her. Gardener? A quick look around confirmed that she had somehow stumbled out of the downs and into beautifully cared-for garden.

Oh, I beg your pardon, she started to say, but then she squawked as the old gardener seized her by the upper arm, his fingers pinching her flesh cruelly. Ow!

I thought we’d seen the last of you little wights, the gardener thundered. Thought you had been taught a lesson, but I see not. Well, you can cool your heels in the cellar until the constables arrive, and then we’ll see how you explain yourself.

Mina could barely believe what was happening. She froze, but when the old man started dragging her along, she dug in her heels and fought back. The basket hung over her arm clanked dangerously, and her net fell to the ground as she struggled.

Come now, it will only be the worse if you resist.

I’m not some kind of thief! Mina cried, her bonnet getting knocked askew. I’m simply out for a walk.

With a basket full of stolen pots? Come on, girl, you’re only making it harder on yourself!

With tears stinging her eyes, Mina felt herself dragged toward the imposing house. It was Colterfield, she realized, the estate to the south of Vickerly, which had stood empty since she was a child.

Gracious, have I come as far south as all that?

Apparently, she had, and she redoubled her efforts to free herself. Just when she thought that the gardener must break her arm or let her go, however, a voice cut through their uproar.

Enough!

The tone was military-smart, freezing them both where they stood, and then Mina turned her head to see who had uttered it.

The man standing up the path from them wavered on his feet, but there was no question that he was imposingly tall and lean. He had a soldier’s cant to his posture, and his frame was displayed admirably in shirt, waistcoat, and buckskin trousers. His hair was as dark as good ink, a touch too long for fashion, but it was his eyes that pinned her, a pale blue that recalled hot fire more than cold ice.

What’s all this about then, Emerson? the man demanded, but it was Mina who spoke.

Nate? she gasped.

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chapter 2

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When he woke up this morning, Nathaniel Jacob Alverly, Marquess of Eddington, Earl of Thrashwood, and Baron Alverly, was only thinking of trying walk a little farther than he had the day before. The shiny scar tissue that ran from his left hip down almost to his left knee was limbering a little more every day, but it was slow and painful work to make sure that he would regain full use of the leg.

That cannon graze could have taken your entire leg or worse, the doctor had told him in France. Be grateful.

Nate was, but he decided that he could be thankful as well as frustrated that the business of healing was going so slow. He had thought to convalesce in London, where he could at least receive company, but within his first week back in England after eight years, he realized he didn’t want any.

He had chosen Colterfield almost at random, located at it was near the tiny village of Vickerly. He knew no one there, and as he worked through the worst of his injury, that was a mercy. Despite desperately needing the solitude, the past week or so had made him realize something else: he was bored out of his mind.

Nate had assumed that the gardener was chasing out some of the local boys, but then he heard a feminine voice raised in shock and fear. More curious than anything else, he hurried along the path to see what was happening and frowned to see Emerson manhandling a young woman, her bonnet knocked aside to show off her blond hair. She was dressed in a village girl’s drabs, and he wondered if she was in fact a thief. Then she had called out his name, making him raise his eyebrows in surprise.

"That’s my lord to you, girl," Emerson said, but Nate raised his hand, stopping the gardener from giving the poor chit a shake.

That’s enough, Emerson. Return to your mulch; I’ll take care of this.

The gardener hesitated for a moment, and then let go of the girl, letting her stumble before catching herself. Emerson stalked back into the bushes, and now Nate and the girl were alone. She was obviously shaken, breathing hard and trembling, and Nate took the opportunity to examine her. She was well built, curvy in a way that he certainly didn’t mind, and familiar, though he couldn’t say how.

God help me if she’s one of Father’s by-blows come to call.

Well? he asked. What do you have to say for yourself?

"I say that you have lost your manners since you’ve been away, my lord," she said tartly, and Nate blinked.

You know my name. How is that?

You have not changed nearly as much as you might fancy you have. Still tall. Still inclined to loom. Still demanding.

I take it we know each other, then, Nate said, looking at the girl more closely.

We do, the girl said with a short nod. Though I have to say that you were a little more polite the last time I was caught trespassing here.

A memory clicked into place, and Nathan stared at her.

You’re Mina Rudd, the butterfly girl!

I am. And you’re Nate. Well. Mr. Alverly now, I suppose. She still looked highly put out, which was hilarious given that she was the trespasser.

As a matter of fact, I’m the marquess now, Nate said, wondering why he almost wanted to apologize for it. My father and brother are both gone.

Mina, because now he knew he recognized her, thawed at that.

Oh. I had not heard. My deepest condolences, my lord.

They are gone, and that is the way of it, Nate said with a shrug. What are you—

He stopped, taking a deep breath. He had been standing on his bad leg far longer than he had been the day before, and now it was telling him that that would not be tolerated. He went stiff, trying to stay upright, but the pain roared up, ready to cut him down. Nate fell himself start to topple, was even braced for the ground, when there was a flash of brown and a shoulder shoved under his arm.

Nate!

He looked down into a pair of warm gray eyes and a mouth that certainly seemed too plush to belong to an innocent... baronet’s daughter, wasn’t she? He wasn’t quite sure. Nate realized that the pain had left him slightly lightheaded, and he gritted his teeth.

I’m fine, he said gruffly. If you could only help me to that bench there...

She moved with him, steadying him at every step until he could at last sit down on the stone bench. The fire in his hip and thigh had subsided at least, and he simply breathed with relief.

You’ve been in the wars, she observed.

San Marcial and Nivelle, he said shortly, and he was relieved when she didn’t ask more.

They sat for a while in silence, and at nearly the same time, they seemed to realize how close together they were, thigh to thigh and his arm still slung over her shoulders. Mina blushed, tugging away, and for one utterly mad moment, Nate didn’t think he was going to let her go. The impulse, fleeting but strong, was to hold her close against him, to feel her warmth and the vital strength of her. He let her go with just a hint of reluctance, and when she would have stood, he distracted her with a question.

Why are you dressed so poorly? Last time I saw you, you were all in pale green to match the downs.

Well, I’m not a child to wear pastels anymore, she said tartly.

Nate grinned.

Of course, you are an old woman who should go about in drabs.

Hardly. I simply knew that I was going to be tromping around the downs today and didn’t care to get one of my nicer frocks muddy.

Nate raised his eyebrows.

You’re still roaming the downs all on your own to collect your little butterflies?

I am, she said after a moment’s pause. It’s no matter at all. I’m careful, and you know as well as I do that there’s no one out and about in this part of the downs.

I know no such thing, he rumbled. You must know you’re too old to take risks like that, Miss Rudd.

You’re not my father, she said with a toss of her golden head. And most of the time, I’m hunting for his collection as well.

It’s not the done thing, and you know it, whether it’s your father’s collection or not, Nate replied.

A bright grin stole over her face. It took her from merely pretty to almost painfully lovely. 

Now you sound like an old infirm man, shouting at the world from his window with a rug over his lap.

Nate frowned at her.

I got these wounds in service to England, he said with great dignity.

Her eyes went wide.

"Oh... Oh, my lord, I certainly did not mean...’

Mina stopped when she saw the laughter in his eyes, and he thought she might have smacked him if she didn’t remember herself.

You are a downright scoundrel, she complained.

Truer than you might think. He chuckled. Though if you have to guess, I am pleased the rumors have not followed me to Vickerly.

Don’t think I’m going to let you brag about all of your misdeeds by asking in curiosity, because I will not.

Oh, well, I’m sure they could hardly compare to yours, Miss Trespasser, Nate teased. This is the second time I’ve caught you sneaking into Colterfield.

I did not sneak; I simply made a mistake both times, Mina said with great dignity. And the first time, you were far kinder than you were this time, just so you’re aware.

I wasn’t much more than a boy then. I was sixteen, and you... my god, couldn’t have been any older than nine.

Well, there were butterflies to catch. They certainly weren’t going to catch themselves.

I remember. You were collecting for your father’s collection then, too, as I recall.

And doing a frightfully poor job of it, I’m afraid. I brought him back all manner of mangled specimens, including a torn bit of paper that I thought was a butterfly wing...

And you came to Colterfield waving your little net, just like you were now, certain the whole place belonged to you.

Mina blushed with just a hint of guilt, and Nate found himself wanting to reach over and rub the ball of his thumb over the curve of her cheek. Would she let him? Of course, she wouldn’t. She was a baronet’s daughter, country-formal and prim.

I apologized then, and I apologize now. I hadn’t realized.

I don’t fault you. I wouldn’t complain if more lovely girls ran onto the property.

Mina looked like she was going to protest that, so he kept on, refusing to let her try talk him out of the compliment.

I gave you my lunch, and then I walked you back home... Henningly Cottage, was it? Your old nurse was so happy to see you, I’m not even sure she saw me... but that wasn’t all there was, was it?

If anything, the blush on Mina’s cheeks darkened.

I’m sure I don’t know what you are—

A promise, Nate said thoughtfully. The memory was right there, he could all but feel her small child’s hand in his, the way the bright summer sun turned her hair to buttery gold. It was a promise, one you made me give, But for what?

I was a child; I’m sure I don’t know, Mina said, standing up and stepping toward her basket and her net. Somehow, he knew she was lying. Now, thank you for the rescue, my lord, but I must be getting along home.

You’re going to come to the stables, Nate said firmly. I’ll have Locksley run you home in the chaise.

I can certainly walk, my lord, Mina said, looking affronted.

Nate shook his head.

I’m afraid I must insist, Miss Rudd. Besides, the stables are on the way back to the house, and I’m rather afraid I need your help.

As a matter of fact, the rest had done his hip and thigh a world of good; The ache was there but distant now. It let him focus on Mina’s body next to his as she let him drape his arm over her shoulders again, and from the way her bright gray eyes flickered up and down his body before she turned her head, flustered, he thought she might not mind much either.

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chapter 3

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Mina thought the matter of Colterfield and Nate, who was apparently the new Marquess of Eddington, to be closed. She had come home and told Polly a carefully edited version of the incident, she had stowed her jars and her net, and after dinner, she had sat down at her desk to work.

It was shaping up to be a good month, she decided. A scholar in Liverpool had commissioned some of her sketches for his monograph, and of course, there were her rather steadier clients in London. She wondered sometimes what they would do if they realized that the M. Rudd who had been providing them with their inked drawings and diagrams was not the honorable Sir Hector’s son, but instead his daughter.

Her father had always said that she had a passing fine hand and eye for inking. Her watercolors were sad muddy blobs, but her lines in ink were as crisp and clear as a spring morning. When he was alive, she had helped Sir Hector with his scholarly work, and after he had died, her skills proved to be her salvation and Polly’s as well.

Her rush lights gave off a low and greasy