Regency Engagements Box Set Read online

  Regency Engagements

  Regency Romance - Clean and Wholesome

  Charlotte Fitzwilliam

  Eliza Heaton

  Contents

  Copyright

  Additional Information

  Care of the Duke by Eliza Heaton

  The Duke’s Baby by Eliza Heaton

  Lords, Love and Lies by Charlotte Fitzwilliam

  My Secret Duke by Eliza Heaton

  Lords, Love and Rivalry by Charlotte Fitzwilliam

  The Earl’s Heart by Charlotte Fitzwilliam

  Lords, Love and Stolen Kisses by Charlotte Fitzwilliam

  The Marquess Who Chose Me by Charlotte Fitzwilliam

  Wanted by the Duke - by Charlotte Fitzwilliam

  Infatuated with the Duke’s Daughter by Eliza Heaton

  Copyright © 2020

  by Charlotte Fitzwilliam and Eliza Heaton.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First printing, 2019

  Publisher

  His Everlasting Love Media

  [email protected]

  www.HisEverlastingLove.com

  Additional Information

  Please check the back of the book for the following:

  Information on how to receive a free book

  Our “About the Author” page

  A list of other books by His Everlasting Love Media

  Care of the Duke by Eliza Heaton

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Epilogue

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  Thank You!

  About the Author

  1

  October 1815

  North England Countryside

  Lancashire

  England

  Sunlight filtered through the gray afternoon clouds over the moor—but not enough to illuminate the dreary sky. From the seat of the carriage, Lady Annalise stared vacantly as the hills rolled into the distance. The road wound through a countryside that was lonely and dreary in its beauty. Forests did not grow on the moors, they could not find footing along the rocks. In the treeless desolation, she could be offered no shade or familiar comfort, no spot of color to distract her fierce thoughts. The land was ancient, she could feel it in her bones. This was a place of solitude, offering glimpses of lakes from the tops of the hills and threatening to close in around the carriage in the valleys. Rocky outcrops jutted high over the roadway, making her feel very small as the carriage bumped along the roadway. The rugged landscape of the north of England outside her window mirrored Lady Annalise’s own sadness.

  How many months had it been since she received the letter, a single page which broke her heart? The man she loved, the man she secretly swore to marry, was dead, and she was alone. She was not permitted to wear black; she could not mourn him as she wished. Her once sparkling blue eyes were now dull and deep set, a mere shred of what they once were when she was in love with her beloved by her side. Lady Anna’s hair, once a golden halo of radiance which framed her lovely face, her delicate, porcelain features, an array of golden silk tumbling in glorious waves down her back, was now tightly pinned at the nape of her neck and covered by a bonnet from which there was no escaping—as much as her illness was suffocating her, and from it there was no escape either.

  Lady Anna had been plagued by the illness for most of her life, and thankfully, some days were much better than others. Her maidservant and her mother had been hovering over her for as long as she could remember, and she was not allowed to participate in all the lovely activities most of the young girls her age found joy in. Lady Anna merely watched from a distance, wishing that she was rid of the illness which made her miss out on the joys of life. Although she was grateful to be alive, living in the manner in which she was currently, she did not consider it living at all.

  She merely existed. At times, she felt guilty that her mother and her maidservant had to care for her constantly, and after the death of her love, for a while, she wished for nothing more than for the illness to simply take her away.

  Lady Sheffield had called upon many physicians to examine Lady Anna, but there was never a conclusive diagnosis, and Lady Sheffield feared that her daughter would perish. It was a fear that plagued her ever since the day Lady Anna was born.

  Looking outside, she was transfixed by the world she saw through the glass. She faintly smiled, thinking that this world mirrored her own sorrow. There could be no comfort, no walks under the shade of trees, no love for a man who would never come home again.

  “Anna, dear, you must try to be cheerful,” her mother, the Countess of Sheffield said with a worried expression.

  Her father, the Earl of Sheffield, a man of staunch traditional values who held a cold demeanor did not speak to her, but she could see in his eyes that he had not forgiven her. How could he understand what it was to love and to be destroyed by it? When she looked at him, she wondered if he knew love at all. He and her mother were not particularly well suited.

  Lady Sheffield was a beautiful woman, accomplished and utterly devoted to her son, Lady Annalise’s older brother, Lord Munthorpe, who was seated at her side. Her golden hair and striking features had not faded in the least, although the years had not been kind to Lady Sheffield and her family, especially not with Lady Anna’s failing health. Lady Sheffield’s demeanor was calm and inviting, and she spoke in a warm and comforting voice. She was a pleasant woman, and caring for her family was her top priority. To Lady Anna, she was the perfect image of what a woman should be.

  Lord Sheffield on the other hand was a man buried under the enormous responsibility of his title, and it showed in his graying temples. During her entire life, Lady Anna had watched her father age much more rapidly than her mother, and at times, she did not even recognize him. His once dark brown hair was now turning at a rapid rate despite his age. Lord Sheffield was a pensive and quiet man, who rarely spoke, and when he did, there was no warmth in his voice. He was opposite of his wife in every single manner imaginable, and Lady Anna could not have imagined a more mismatched couple.

  Despite being married for nearly twenty-four years, having two children, and much water under the bridge, there was no love which rested in their gazes with one another, which was a crying shame according to Lady Anna. To spend more than two decades with a man who did not hold your heart, and whom you only tolerated since there was no way around the arrangement set out by your parents, was such a waste of a life.

  Lady Anna could not imagine being wed to a man who did not gaze upon her with nothing but love and admiration in his eyes. What was the purpose of being married to him in the first place then?

  “Perhaps the cheer can spread to all the parts of your body and allow you to feel better,” Lady Sheffield suggested with an overly-optimistic smile on her face.

  Attempting to return her mother’s smile, Lady Anna, as she had preferred being addressed, wished she was home in her own bed with the curtains drawn. She did not wish to be in society; she had no wish to attend a hunting party, nor any other kind of social interaction or activity, but that was the obligation of her station in life.

  How could she dance
and dine with the other ladies and lords when her heart was devastated? How could she laugh when she had no desire to eat or ever move again?

  While gazing at the landscape, she caught a glimpse of her own reflection. She had inherited her mother’s flaxen hair, glimmering gold in the sunlight. Her eyes were blue like her father’s, but Lady Anna didn’t see the same shrewdness in her own gaze that she often saw in her father’s ice blue eyes. Her features were not unpleasant, but she was not the beauty her mother had once been, nor was she as robust in her health. Lady Anna believed that her brother, Lord Munthorpe had received all the good genes and had left none for her.

  Lord Munthorpe was tall, with broad shoulders and an athletic built. There was not a single memory available to Lady Anna where she could recall that her brother was stricken down with illness. He was active and loved the out-of-doors, which he was allowed to explore to his heart’s content. He was also a very charming young man and exuded confidence, which Lady Anna envied terribly. Lord Munthorpe was able to speak with any person, in any setting, and he would be calm and collected and confident in his manner of speaking. Lady Anna could barely say two sentences until she started to feel faint. More often than not, she simply used it as an excuse to escape the social gatherings she was forced to attend with her family. Lady Anna would much rather spend her days and nights quietly in her bedchambers or in the library reading a book.

  Lady Anna had also been well aware that she was not the most beautiful young woman in the room, and that did not bother her in the least. Neither did it bother George Reardon in the least.

  Perhaps, she thought, there was something more than beauty which caught the eye of George Reardon. At the mere thought of his name, Anna wanted to weep and all her thoughts turned dark and dismal. He had taken up such a large part of her heart and soul, and when she had heard the news of his passing, she was left feeling empty and numb. She loved him, and he loved her. It was a terrible twist of fate that he should be the poor second son of a viscount and a missionary, and she should be the only daughter of one of England’s wealthiest families. If he had lived, they would never have been allowed to marry, but she planned to run away with him.

  When Lady Anna remembered the dreams they shared, the plans they had, she felt a guilt that was nearly as overwhelming as the sadness. She wished to marry him and spend the rest of her life beside him. She had promised him, but would she have gone through with such a mad scheme? She did not know, and now she never would. Although she loved him with her entire heart, a part of her doubted she would have had the strength.

  “Is that Cragshead Keep?” Lord Munthorpe inquired, as he gestured towards the window. “See it just there, in the valley?”

  “Indeed it is, Munthorpe,” Lady Sheffield answered.

  Anna realized she had been lost in a world of her own misery for longer than she had thought. She had been looking out of the window, but she was not truly seeing anything but her own reflection staring back at her. Her skin was pale, translucent almost, and her eyes were two dark caverns, sunken in her face. The blue of her eyes were once bright and happy, but now they were only filled with darkness and despair. The contrast they had once provided against her once blushing skin was no more. Even the sparkle in her flaxen hair had disappeared, dimmed by the clouds which hung over her since that fateful day.

  Lady Anna was not allowed to speak of her love and had kept it inside her heart and mind for so long that it had withered away not only her mind, but her body as well.

  Peering through the glass, past the stranger with the sunken eyes and sallow skin, she saw a castle emerging from the mists surrounding the lake. Dark stone towers and turrets rose into the sky, like a sentinel standing alone and guarding the lake with its immense presence.

  “I wonder if there is a moat?” Lord Munthorpe said and laughed. “Would that not be truly delightful?” He expressed his thoughts with a charming gleam in his eye.

  “Be sensible. There is no moat,” Lord Sheffield said, as he glowered at his son.

  Lady Sheffield was quick to defend Lord Munthorpe and pointed out, “There could be a moat, the Keep is said to be very old.”

  “Old? That house is practically medieval,” Lord Munthorpe retorted, gazing out the window in sheer excitement and intrigue.

  Lady Anna shivered involuntary. Despite the chill of October winds blowing along the moors outside, the carriage was warm and well-furnished for her comfort. The velvet seats and silk-lined walls offered a snug and luxurious cocoon removed from the elements. Wrapped in a fur-lined pelisse and bundled under the thick fur blanket draped over her legs, she felt a chill that was not cold. She was fearful, intimidated by the castle which came into view.

  “Is this the seat of His Grace, the Duke of Richmond,” Lady Anna asked, surprising herself with her own question.

  How long had it been since she was stirred by anything, since she felt any other emotion other than despair? How long had it been since anything was of interest to her? It felt as if it had been a lifetime ago that she was the starry-eyed young woman who dreamed of love. When she had finally found it, much to the dismay and utter disapproval of her parents, it was abruptly taken from her. Stolen.

  “This is the ancestral home of the duke,” Lord Sheffield answered in a low tone, and Anna glanced at him. She was under the impression her father had not been paying attention to what she had asked, as their relationship was rather strained. “The castle has been in their family for five hundred years. Quite an impressive testament to the architect’s skill.”

  “It may possibly be haunted.” Lord Munthorpe nudged Lady Anna in the side, a habit he had never grown out of despite his age of twenty-two and her own twenty years. Lady Anna scowled at him. “What? A place such as this always has a lonely spirit or two floating around the hallways. Perhaps even a tortured one, like you, sister.”

  “Do not be silly, boy,” Lord Sheffield muttered.

  From her vantage point, Anna saw the castle, its formidable walls rising over head. Lady Anna smiled at the beautiful sight before her. There were trees surrounding the Keep, immense oak trees which may have been as old as the castle itself, and in the distance, she saw the glimmering waters of a lake.

  There was a beauty to this ancient fortress, a beauty that was both imposing and lonely, as if it alone stood against the forces of nature and man, and it remained steadfast through generations of men and their battles.

  Lady Anna felt a thrill when she looked at its thick stone walls, a thrill that was accompanied by a sudden weakness. She felt faint, but she did not say a word about it. The fainting, like her sadness, would surely pass.

  The Duke of Richmond stood in front of the large window of his study, which overlooked the front of the grounds of his estate. The stone-colored clouds cast a shadow over his handsome face, as well as his mood. His green eyes were focused intently on the courtyard in the front of Cragshead Keep, watching the carriages and coaches filled with guests arriving at the estate. Although the duke had been gracious enough to host the activities at his ancestral home, he was not in the correct state of mind to entertain guests at that moment. He felt rather somber, but he was not quite certain as to what the reason was for this mood. Perhaps it was the thought that he must smile and appear polite and conversational to a group of people he was not even acquainted with. Most of the older guests had been friends of his family years ago, now they were bringing their daughters to meet the most eligible bachelor in all of England, the Duke of Richmond.

  It had been an entire year since the duke had been left at the altar, and regardless of the fact that Lady Simone had agreed to the arranged marriage to the duke, the sting of his public humiliation still ran deep. There were no feelings of love and devotion between him and Lady Simone, but she had rejected him not only in front of his relatives and friends, but in front of the entire county. Afterwards, the duke had vowed to never allow himself to be fooled in such a manner again.

  His jaw clenched as he glanced dow
n in contempt at the young women and their mothers as they made their way along the cobblestone pathway. He quickly put away his true feelings, as it was expected of a duke to be a perfect host, which meant being warm, friendly, and polite. He could not recall what he had been thinking when he had agreed to be the host of the hunting party, but it was most certainly too late to do anything regarding it now.

  The duke sighed once more as he glanced up at the heavens. The skies were dark and overcast still, and there was a definitive prediction of rain, but that did not seem to deter the guests from arriving at the massive castle. Perhaps their tenacity to find a suitable husband for their daughter was far more important than being drenched by an October rainstorm.

  A shiver ran up his spine as he turned away and warmed his hands at the fire which burnt in the fireplace. He had ordered the fires to be lit throughout the castle, in order to warm the chambers for his guests.

  His staff had spent an entire week preparing the castle for the upcoming activities. The duke could not remember a time when there had been as many guests at Cragshead Keep, although most of his memories of the estate were very much fogged by the memories of his parents’ deaths.

  The late duke had passed mere days before the late duchess when the duke was fifteen years of age, barely old enough to accept the title of his well-respected father. His father had been the most intelligent man he had ever known, and despite being young when his father passed, he was taught many things which made him even more respected by his peers, as well as by society, than his father had been.