A Clever Alliance: A Regency Romance (Regency Brides: A Promise of Love Book 1) Read online

  A Clever Alliance: A Regency Romance

  Laura Beers

  A Clever Alliance:

  A Regency Romance

  By: Laura Beers

  Text copyright © 2019 by Laura Beers

  Cover art copyright © 2019 by Laura Beers

  Cover art by Blue Water Books

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, copied, or transmitted without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

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

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  More Romance from Laura Beers

  1. Bath, England, 1812

  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

  Epilogue

  Coming Soon:

  About the Author

  More Romance from Laura Beers

  The Beckett Files

  Regency Spy Romances

  Saving Shadow

  A Peculiar Courtship

  To Love a Spy

  A Tangled Ruse

  A Deceptive Bargain

  The Baron’s Daughter

  Coming Soon- The Unfortunate Debutante

  1

  Bath, England, 1812

  Lady Madalene Ramsbury gripped the branches so tightly that her knuckles turned white as her toes searched for footholds on the white pine tree.

  “Climbing in a dress is nearly impossible,” her dear friend, Lady Isabella Beauchamp, said in a huff from below her.

  Ignoring the sweat trickling down her back, she suggested, “Perhaps we should buy trousers next time we go into Town?”

  Isabella laughed lightly. “Oh dear, wouldn’t that be scandalous?”

  Finding her usual spot to rest, Madalene pulled herself up and leaned her back against the thick tree trunk. She wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. It was rather difficult to climb a tree, but it was worth the effort. From her vantage point, she could see the rolling green hills of Bath with cattle grazing in the distance. The blue sky seemed to sparkle in the sunlight, and on the breeze, she could hear the cheerful twitter of birds.

  “You need to pick a new pastime, Maddie,” Isabella teased as she leaned against a low branch. “Climbing trees is hardly appropriate for a lady.”

  “Neither is riding astride,” Madalene bantered.

  Isabella shrugged unrepentantly. “It’s much easier to ride astride than with a side saddle.”

  Rather than argue with her friend’s misguided logic, Madalene joked, “Aren’t we rebels?”

  “I daresay that we will need to be on our best behavior when we go to London for the Season next year.”

  Turning towards her blonde-haired friend, Madalene asked, “Do you regret not going home for the Season this year?”

  “I do not. I am not even eighteen yet.” Isabella paused. “Do you regret it?”

  Madalene shook her head. “I would much rather stay at Miss Bell’s Finishing School than face my horrid uncle.”

  “Perhaps my mother would be willing to host you for the next Season,” Isabella remarked.

  “Wouldn’t that be grand?” Madalene murmured, growing pensive. If only her mother was still alive to prepare her for the Season. She ran her hand along her black skirt.

  A long, comfortable silence descended over them, interrupted only by the sound of the birds chirping in the trees.

  “Do you miss your mother?” Isabella asked.

  Madalene closed her eyes. “Every single day.”

  “I lost my father seven years ago, but I couldn’t imagine the pain of losing my mother,” Isabella admitted.

  “Losing my parents so close together was the hardest thing I have ever faced,” Madalene replied, blinking back her tears. “I couldn’t even say goodbye to them because typhoid fever is so contagious.”

  “I’m glad that you came back to Miss Bell’s Finishing School.”

  Madalene huffed. “That was an easy decision. It was either that or stay with my uncle.”

  “Is he truly that awful?”

  Pressing her lips together, Madalene admitted, “I often heard my parents discussing my uncle’s gambling habits. He would frequent the gambling halls in London and spend money that he did not have.”

  “Was he cruel to you?”

  “No, but growing up, he hardly spoke to me,” she shared.

  The church bell chimed in the distance, alerting them to the time.

  “We better hurry back before Miss Bell discovers we’re gone,” Isabella said as she started climbing down.

  Grabbing hold of the branch, Madalene found a foothold and quickly scampered down the tree.

  “That’s not fair,” Isabella claimed as she finally came to stand next to her friend. “You have an uncanny ability to climb trees.”

  Looping arms, they started heading towards the estate. Madalene glanced at Isabella with a mischievous expression. “I’m excited to practice whitework embroidery today.”

  Isabella groaned. “I hate sitting around all day, working on embroidery. I would prefer to be riding on a beautiful day like this.”

  “You would always prefer to be riding.”

  “Yes, but I truly abhor needlework.”

  Madalene laughed. “But an accomplished woman must be proficient at needlework.”

  “Don’t you ever wish that gentlemen would be interested in our actual thoughts and opinions rather than our abilities to play instruments and speak in demure tones?”

  “I’m afraid gentlemen like that don’t exist,” Madalene replied as they stepped onto the cobblestone footpath leading to the main entrance of the estate.

  “I overheard Penelope, Adelaide, Jo, and Caroline discussing marriage. They all decided that they would only marry for love.”

  “I heard them mention that, as well.”

  Isabella stopped and turned to face her. “Should we make the same pact?”

  Madalene wanted to say yes, but something held her back. “I don’t know what the future holds for me,” she admitted reluctantly.

  “All the more reason to only marry for love,” Isabella pressed.

  “What of you?”

  Isabella laughed. “I’m more than happy to make the pact, but I have no intention of marrying at all.”

  “Why, exactly?”

  Her friend tilted her pointed chin, determination in her eyes. “I refuse to marry someone that won’t let me be myself... quirks and all.”

  “I daresay you shall have men lined up to court you.”

  “I think not. What gentleman would be interested in a bluestocking that enjoys riding astride?” Isabella challenged.

  Madalene shook her head at her friend’s tone. Isabella was a beauty with her blonde curls, fair skin, and bright, expressive eyes. She had always felt that she paled in comparison to her.

  “If I marry,” Madalene started slowly, “I will only marry for love, as well.”

  “Tha
t wasn’t so hard, was it?” Isabella asked, grinning.

  A black coach approached the estate, and Madalene saw her familial crest on the door. A feeling of dread washed over her.

  “That’s my uncle’s coach,” she shared.

  Isabella turned to watch the coach as it rolled along the cobblestone street. She placed her hand above her eyes, shielding them from the sun. “Why did your uncle travel from London to call upon you?”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t have a good feeling about it.”

  “You did turn eighteen last week. Perhaps he intends to present you for the Season.”

  “I doubt that.”

  Isabella grew serious, and she met her gaze. “Whatever happens, just know that you can always seek out my brother, Lord Northampton, or my mother. They’re both in Town for the Season, and they will help you. I’m sure of it.”

  The coach jerked to a stop in front of Miss Bell’s Finishing School, and a footman jumped down from the seat next to the driver. He stepped quickly to the door and knocked.

  Isabella let out a sigh of relief. “Your uncle only sent a missive.”

  “But what is in the missive?” Madalene questioned.

  “There is only one way to find out,” Isabella encouraged, tugging her towards the door.

  Madalene felt trepidation in her heart as she headed towards the dining room of her family’s London townhouse, Windham Hall, knowing she would be forced to speak to her odious uncle, the Earl of Stafford. He had summoned her home from Miss Bell’s Finishing School in Bath, but fortunately he hadn’t been home when she arrived early last night.

  She stopped outside the open door and smoothed out her black crepe gown, hoping to delay the inevitable. She had no idea why she was to return home. The missive just stated that she was to return home immediately.

  “Are you all right, Lady Madalene?” the kind, aging butler asked from behind her.

  She turned around and gave him a timid smile. “I’m just gathering up courage,” she found herself admitting.

  Mr. Hayward’s stoic expression gave nothing away, but she saw compassion creep into his eyes.

  Taking a step closer, she lowered her voice. “Do you know why my uncle summoned me home?”

  “I do not.”

  Wincing, she glanced over her shoulder at the door. “I suppose I should go in there,” she said reluctantly.

  “You just turned eighteen years old. Perhaps he plans to present you for the Season,” Mr. Hayward suggested.

  Glancing down at her gown, she replied, “But it hasn’t even been a year since Father and Mother died.”

  Tenderly, Mr. Hayward placed a hand on her shoulder. “Have courage, Lady Maddie,” he remarked affectionately. It was a phrase he’d repeated to her often since her parents’ death.

  “Thank you, Hayward,” she responded. “What would I have done without you?”

  His eyes twinkled with humor. “Most likely, you would have gotten into more scrapes.”

  “That’s true. You were always there to pick me back up.”

  “And I always will be.” With a smile on his lips, he dropped his arm and took a step back. “Now off with you,” he encouraged. “I made sure the cook made all of your favorites this morning for breakfast.”

  “Does that include chocolate and bacon?”

  He winked. “Of course, milady.”

  “You should have told me that at the beginning of our conversation. Then I wouldn’t have spent as much time chattering on with you out here,” she teased, spinning on her heel.

  As she walked into the dining room, Madalene took a moment to admire the burgundy wallpaper and antique furniture that her mother had personally selected. This room had so many wonderful memories of her parents. From a young age, she’d had breakfast with them each morning, followed by riding with her father.

  Her uncle was sitting at the head of the table with a paper in his hand. He was a tall man with dark, thinning hair, and his bold nose appeared to have grown since the last time she saw him.

  “Good, you’re finally awake,” Lord Stafford said, placing the folded newspaper onto the table.

  Stepping to the buffet, Madalene admitted, “I’ve been awake for a few hours now. I woke up earlier and noticed what a fine day it was, so I went riding.”

  “Did you have an escort with you?” he asked, censure in his voice.

  “I didn’t think one was necessary since I stayed on our lands.”

  “That was foolhardy,” her uncle admonished. “From now on, I would like to be notified before you take a ride.”

  “May I ask why?” she asked, walking over to the table and sitting across from him.

  Her uncle lifted his brow at her pertinence. “I’m your guardian, and I am responsible for you.”

  “I assure you that the woodlands surrounding Windham Hall are safe,” she countered.

  Placing his arm on the table, he leaned forward and snapped, “You will not defy me on this, Madalene.”

  “I understand, Uncle,” she replied, averting her gaze. She had learned a long time ago that it was best not to argue with him. He would only become more irate.

  “Good,” he said with a bob of his head. “I hope your return trip from your ladies’ finishing school was uneventful.”

  “It was,” she replied, picking up her fork.

  “I’m relieved you are safely home where you belong,” Lord Stafford remarked, his words sounding insincere.

  “Am I to assume that I will not be returning to school?”

  He stared at her as if she was a simpleton. “You are eighteen years old. Why would you wish to continue your schooling?”

  “I have many dear friends at the school, and I enjoy learning,” she admitted.

  “You should consider your words carefully. I would hate to think that my niece is a bluestocking,” he said sternly.

  Madalene placed her fork down and reached for her cup of chocolate. She needed something to calm her nerves and sipping chocolate always did the trick. Why did Society frown on women obtaining an education? To her, that seemed rather daft.

  Her uncle pushed back his chair and walked over to the window. He stared out towards the gardens for a long moment. “You may have wondered why I summoned you home before the Season has begun.”

  “The question may have crossed my mind,” she lied, returning her cup to the saucer. She had thought of little else since she got his missive.

  Turning, he met her gaze and announced, “I have arranged an advantageous marriage for you.”

  She stared back at him, stunned into silence. How could he do this to her?

  Taking her silence for acceptance, he continued, “It is to Lord Powis’s son, Viscount Tattershell.”

  “But it hasn’t even been a full year since my parents’ deaths,” she reminded him.

  “It has been nearly eleven months.” He waved his hand dismissively. “That is sufficient time to mourn for one’s dead.”

  It had not escaped her notice that her uncle hadn’t mourned her parent’s deaths, except for the black armband around his sleeve that he’d worn only during the funeral.

  “I don’t want to marry Lord Tattershell.”

  Madalene didn’t like the way he looked at her, with pity in his eyes.

  “You have no choice.” He sighed. “The contract has already been signed.”

  “You signed the contract without asking me?”

  He ran his finger along the windowsill. “You’re eighteen and are starting to become a strain on my household.”

  “A strain?” she repeated. “Is that what you consider me?”

  Lord Stafford huffed. “Come, child. You shall be a viscountess on your wedding day and will one day become the Countess of Powis. You should be thanking me for such a union as this.”

  “Titles mean very little to me. Besides, I refuse to marry a man that I do not hold in some affection.”

  “That is rubbish,” he humphed. “Marriages are designed to supply an hei
r; affection has nothing to do with it.”

  “But I have never met Lord Tattershell.”

  “It matters not. You will marry him.”

  Madalene squared her shoulders defiantly. “I will not.”

  Closing the distance between them in a few strides, he loomed over her. “If you do not marry Lord Tattershell, then I shall banish you from Windham Hall and disown you.”

  “This is my home!” she exclaimed.

  “No,” he said with a shake of his head. “This is my home, and you are but a guest in it.”

  She rose from her chair. “Then I shall leave at once.”

  “By all means, go,” he encouraged with a flick of his wrist. “However, you shall leave all your clothing, personal effects, and jewelry behind.”

  “You would keep my clothing?” she asked in disbelief. “For what…”

  Her uncle cut her off. “Everything you own belongs to the estate. To me.”

  “That is not accurate,” she objected. “My mother gave me her jewelry…”

  “No. It all belongs to me!”

  She gasped. Her mother’s jewelry was the only thing she had of her mother’s possessions. She couldn’t leave those behind. A thought occurred to her. “May I buy them from you?”

  “With what money?” he scoffed.

  “Didn’t my father leave me some type of inheritance?”

  Lord Stafford chuckled dryly. “No. He left you nothing.”

  “Nothing?” she repeated. How was that possible? How could her parents have left no provisions for her?

  “Your parents died unexpectedly, and they had not updated their will since you were young,” her uncle explained. “Your father did have the foresight to set aside an account with a generous dowry of £30,000 for you.”