Further news from Sussex, dear reader, as the Somerville house party continues to provide enough gossip to keep the ton amused over their breakfasts for months to come. Our readers will be familiar with the name of the lovely Lady F., who has delighted this newspaper since she was first presented to the ton and proclaimed a rare beauty – can it truly be six years ago? In that time, this flower on the tree of the venerable B. family has proved ever popular with marriage-minded gentlemen, their mothers and sisters, and matchmakers of both sexes. But, ever elusive, she has escaped whatever entanglements were dropped before her feet, and has instead accompanied her brother, the distinguished Earl of H., assisting him with his political and diplomatic duties by managing his household and planning his entertainments.
Dear reader, word from Sussex is that this most original of all social butterflies might be about to land at last on a respectable suitor. According to our correspondent, she has caught the eye of a certain Mr. V. G., whose links with a princely family in Italy are well known. He has made his intentions clear and a proposal is certainly in the offing.
But will the lady say yes? We wait, perhaps no less impatiently than Mr. V. G. to hear the lady’s answer!
(The following is a note hastily delivered too late to stop the print, so it will have to go in a later edition.)
Sam, pull the article about Lady F. She is to marry the local schoolteacher and Mr. V. G. has been arrested under mysterious circumstances. We have been able to learn that the lady’s brother was involved in the arrest, but in what way and why? No one is saying. I’ll keep digging around to see what I can find out. Meanwhile, the lady and the schoolteacher are smelling like April and May, and even the sober Earl of H. has been seen to smile! Who would have seen that coming?
A Bend in the Road in Love’s Perilous Road
By Jude Knight
Justin is not worthy of Lady Felicity Belvoir. He hadn’t needed her brother to point it out. Felicity is determined to marry Justin Weatherall, her brother be damned. Now that she has found where he is living, she needs only to convince him.
An Excerpt from A Bend in the Road
Justin dragged himself out of bed to answer a thunderous cascade of knocks on his door. It was Victor Grant, who raised his brow at Justin’s appearance and said, “What does the schoolmaster get when he is late for school? Six of the best? Would you like me to administer them for you?”
“Get lost, Grant,” Justin said. “I have nothing to say to you.” He tried to shut the door, but Grant put his boot in the way.
“I have something to say to you, however,” Grant said. “You have been annoying Lady Felicity Belvoir, and I won’t have it. Stay away from my betrothed.”
As had often happened in battle, Justin suddenly felt very calm, very much in control, all his emotions set to one side to be picked up again on the other side of the conflict. “No, Grant. It is I who say those words to you. Stop annoying Lady Felicity. We are to be married.”
The reward for sins often arrived before the payment, and so it was in this case. Grant’s jaw dropped, and his attempt to speak caught on a stutter. The payment would come when Felicity discovered what he’d said. No matter. Justin would pay whatever penance she demanded, and it would be worth it for the expression in Grant’s eyes.
“Nonsense,” said the man, gathering his usual cloak of supercilious dignity around himself. “Marry you? You are nothing and no one. She is a Belvoir, and one of the great beauties of our age. You are penniless, and she brings a fortune with her. You were a mediocre naval officer and are now a village schoolteacher. She is used to the highest of Society and is welcome in all the courts of Europe. A marriage between you? Ridiculous.”
How odd. These were the same arguments that Justin had been using, but hearing them from Grant he could see how petty they were. If Felicity loved him as he loved her, and if she wanted the life he could give her, then what else mattered?
“It is you who are ridiculous, Grant. Chasing after a woman who has already refused you several times.”
“A woman has a right to be pursued,” Grant said, loftily. “A sensible man does not regard it as discouragement.”
“A wise man assumes a woman like Lady Felicity knows her own mind. She has chosen me, Grant. Now go away.” As he said that, he gave Grant a shove to move him from the doorstep, and slammed the door in the man’s face. He latched it, locked it, and—for good measure—put the bar in place.
After a few minutes, he heard Grant’s horse leaving.
But before he could go back upstairs to his bed, another knock sounded, more gentle but equally insistent. By pressing his face to the window, he could just see a skirt. Not Milly again, please God, no. But the figure stepped back to glance from side to side, and when he realized it was Felicity, he could not get the door open fast enough.
“Was that Grant I saw leaving?” she demanded, as he drew her inside and shut the door to protect her from the eyes of scandalmongers. “What did he want?”
“To tell me I wasn’t good enough for you,” he blurted.
She raised her eyebrows and gave an unamused chuckle. “At least there is something the two of you agree about.”
I hurt her. Justin supposed he must have known it before, but seeing her use humor to deflect possible hurt brought it home to him.
“I told him we are betrothed,” he blurted. “I shouldn’t have. Not when I haven’t even asked you. I love you, Lady Felicity Belvoir. I have loved you since I first met you. For the past two years, even while I kept telling myself that it was hopeless, and that I was an arrogant bumptious fool for ever thinking I was fit to touch the toe of your shoe, I have loved you. Will you forgive this poor fool for running away without talking to you?”
Somewhere in that impassioned speech, he had caught up her two hands. He lifted them to his lips, and then said, “Will you marry me, and join me in a partnership to make our dreams come true? Will you, Felicity?”
Felicity lifted her lovely face and touched her sweet lips to his. “Yes, Justin. Yes, I will.”
Dearest Mr. Clemens, thank you for the delightful Tea you arranged for my sister and I before we left London. As you predicted, there is much delicious information to be had at Sir Peter and Lady Somerville’s house party in the lovely Sussex countryside. My sister Prudence will have already alerted you to the goings on of the night rider Captain Midnight. There will be more on that subject!
Betsy Carmichael, recently dismissed from one of London’s most prestigious addresses wrung her hands and bit her lip.
Belinda Westcott doesn’t want to injure the Earl of Ridgemont. She merely wants to humiliate him. After all, one good prank deserves a payback. How could she anticipate that it would go so terribly wrong, or that he would turn out to be nothing like she expected?
Duncan Laidlaw, newly and expectantly raised to Viscount Mildrum, is in trouble. He’s been saddled with a neglected estate, an equally neglected and shabby household, and three wild and undisciplined children, his cousin’s step-children. They may not be his blood, but they are his to care for.
