The Captain of A Lady's Heart: A Historical Regency Romance Book Read online

  My dear Robert,

  I hope this letter finds you well, for I can barely think of you injured. My hand is shaking and my heart so very heavy as I write. I send terrible news and beg that you return home to Kent immediately for I am frightened and do not know what to do. Our darling brother, George, is dead. The Duke fell from his horse and, according to the physician, his neck was broken on impact.

  Oh Robert, what are we to do? There is but more abysmal news. Whilst you have been absent in war, George entangled himself into terrible debt at the gambling tables and I am now ashamed to say, mortgaged the house.

  We are to be homeless. If we cannot pay off the debt in three months, Winfield Manor will be auctioned. We will lose everything. Please come home my dear Robert and swiftly, for I cannot deal with this alone and am lost as to how we can prevent this.

  I leave you, your loving sister,

  Alison.

  Robert, quite motionless, glared at the letter, stunned and reeling as a torrent of emotions attacked him simultaneously. First and foremost, an immediate disbelief, followed swiftly by a rational balance. He was captain of a regiment and not prone to whimsical thought, after all. And yet, his stomach clenched and a bile rose in his throat.

  Whilst he and his older brother were not particularly close, there being a large gap in years, his death was still a shock and it pained him; but he hardly had time to think about his grief but for the immediacy of the situation regarding Winfield Manor.

  His army commission barely paid for his horse, his room and board. What was to become of his sister and himself if the house were to be auctioned? And last, and at this moment, least important, he was next in line for the Dukedom. A title he had not thought would be bestowed on him for many years, if at all had George produced a son.

  Placing the letter on the stand beside him, he straightened himself and took a deep breath. Poor George, the thought of him dying alone speared him. No matter what the physician had stated, who knew how long he had lain there, still living. It may be supposed, being at war, that one grows accustomed to death, but that had never been Robert’s experience.

  A critical thinker by nature, he would first find a way to save their home. All other concerns would need to be curbed for the interim. Having no idea on how he would go about it, he refused to let mania overtake him. He would now need to take charge of the situation; Alison would be depending on it. It was all very well, being heroic and gallant on the battlefield, but if he could not be there for his own family, of what use was it?

  I must leave immediately.

  Glancing back at the letter, he suddenly wondered how his poor sister must be managing at this moment. At 16 years old, she would not have the sense of what was to be done, and, he imagined, would be quite beside herself both in grief and overwhelm for their future. He must obtain leave from his commander to return to Kent. Under the circumstances, he knew the request would be more a formality, and he had no doubt that leave would be granted.

  ‘Captain Barkley Sir, it is so good to have you home.’ Kitty gushed as she gathered his top coat and hat in the large hallway of Winfield Manor.

  Kitty was their housemaid; a gentle woman of fifty or so, who had taken good care of him and the family for many years. More so him after the tragic death of his parents.

  ‘But I am so sorry for your loss, Sir. I cannot even begin to imagine…’

  ‘Thank you, Kitty. Yes, I would have preferred my return to be on much pleasanter terms. Are you well?’

  ‘As well as expected Sir,’ she nodded solemnly, ‘Duchess Maria Stanhope-Barkley is waiting for you in the drawing room.’

  ‘Oh.’ His surprise was not lost on Kitty as she eyed him with sympathy.

  ‘Yes Sir, she arrived yesterday.’

  ‘I will go to her directly.’

  ‘I will bring some tea, Sir.’

  ‘Thank you, Kitty.’

  On entering the drawing room, Robert noted the stout, proud woman stood looking out onto the terrace, dressed entirely in black. The typical mourning dress for her nephew as she was a woman of great scruples. His aunt turned abruptly as he entered the room, the tip of her cane clacking the wooden flooring as she took a step forward.

  Robert moved towards her, and bowed perfunctorily, before kissing her on both cheeks.

  ‘Are you well Your Grace?’

  ‘Do I look well?’ She barked, gesturing to her attire. ‘I have travelled far to see you and grieve the death of my nephew. I am beside myself with woe and there is much to discuss. The decision has been made, Alison needs someone here to take care of things, so I will stay for as long as I am needed.’

  Robert was not aware she had been invited, but he was not surprised. The Dowager did not wait for others to ask before imposing her opinions or herself, on others. However, under the circumstances, her suggestion was practical if not rather presumptuous. Practical she had always been, if not more than a little aloof.

  ‘Thank you for gracing us with your presence.’ Robert replied a little tightly. ‘Where is Alison?’

  ‘Lady Alison is napping.’ The older woman said with little affection. ‘This has all been too much for her. And now, it is up to you to untangle this mess. You are the man of the house now Robert. Had you been here, who knows, the situation may have been quite different.’

  Robert felt a little affronted at her derogatory tone. This ‘mess’ was not his doing after all, and frankly, his brother falling and breaking his neck was as inconvenient to him as it was to his brother. He had not been Georges’ keeper and even had he been here, he doubted he could have controlled his brothers’ fancies.

  Kitty knocked and entered, pushing open the heavy door whilst balancing a tray of tea, biscuits and cake against her small frame. The conversation halted until she again, curtseying, left the room, having poured the tea.

  Whilst the Duchess sat, Robert remained standing. He was not inclined for tea at present, and a restless energy at both the situation and her presence ran through him.

  ‘So,’ his aunt demanded, ‘what do you propose to do?’

  ‘Your Grace, I understand that you are perturbed…’

  ‘Perturbed! Perturbed! My dear boy, you have absolutely no idea how pathetic that word is in describing how I am feeling at this very instant.’ Her voice now elevated and harsh, gave Robert a clue how she may be feeling.

  ‘This is a disaster! An absolute disaster and nothing less. And you, you stand there, taking no responsibility at all. Is it to be left to me to rescue this family once again?’

  ‘I take no responsibility at all, as I am not responsible,’ Robert defended, ‘it is not I who have created this dilemma. I have been away for some time, fighting for my country.’

  ‘Do not talk to me of what I know already,’ she reprimanded, ‘do you think me a fool?’

  ‘Not at all, Your Grace.’

  ‘You are here now and this disaster needs to be curtailed immediately. And why, pray tell me, have you not yet produced an heir to carry on my brother’s lineage and keep it from fizzling into non-existence?’

  ‘I am afraid, fighting a war takes up a lot of my time, finding time to court between battles, can be a little difficult.’ Robert turned slightly away to hide a smile.

  ‘Don’t pertain to use your wittiness with me young man. I am well aware of your shenanigans this past while. And being away to war is as good an excuse as any.’

  If she only knew the pain and horror he had witnessed—the smell of death constant in his nostrils, of wading through rivers of blood, the countless sleepless nights waking from the screams in his nightmares—she may have a different view. But he would not enlighten her; not now, and not ever. These things were barely discussed between men, never mind amongst the delicate sensibilities of the female sex.

  The war had been hard and he had lost many a good man. Many others had returned home badly injured, if alive at all. In all of it, his luck had run beside him, having scars that would eventually heal and no da
mage that would be lasting.

  Well, apart from the sights that one could never forget, even over a hundred lifetimes. But that was the price of war. A commitment he had taken upon himself, even though he could not have known what truly lay before him.

  The conversation of an heir resumed once again at dinner. Alison had been wakened and was over-joyed to see her brother home, safe and unharmed. She relied on him heavily now, at such a young age, not knowing what was to be done for the best.

  The servants left the room and they ate for a while in silence at the long table, but the Duchess was not to tolerate the silence for any length of time.

  ‘You must find a woman to marry and produce an heir as soon as possible.’ She demanded.

  Alison looked across the table to her brother, concerned at the matriarch’s demands. His sister’s adoration for him had always been obvious, and it had pained her immensely when he had informed her, he was going away to war.

  Her fear of never seeing him again almost crushed him as he witnessed the terror in her eyes, but he left with a promise that he would return to her whole. He was glad he had been able to keep that promise, but he could never have imagined the circumstances of his return and the situation the family now found themselves in.

  Now the man of the house: it was left to him to take charge of all their affairs, to provide a home for Alison and preserve the manor if he could at all manage it. He was surprised then, when Alison interjected into the conversation.

  ‘Your Grace, it should not be left to Robert alone to hold this responsibility. I am old enough now to search for a husband. I can marry and secure a husband with wealth.’

  The Duchess nearly snorted in derision of the suggestion.

  ‘Are you such a fool that you do not know how the world works? That would not help at all. We live in a patriarchy child, you would take on the name of your husband, the Barkley name would not be continued with your being wedded. Your children would take on his lineage.’

  Robert glared at his aunt. The Dowager she may be, but to intimidate and humiliate Alison in such a way was completely unnecessary.

  ‘I hardly think Alison needs reminded of that fact, Your Grace. She is well educated in how the world works.’ He exclaimed tersely.

  Alison shrunk a little at his tone, but the Duchess was not affected one bit. Her haughtiness and high regard for herself was certainly not becoming but then, he thought, she did not care what others thought of her one jot. Only that she be heard and obeyed.

  ‘Well, then surely,’ Alison continued meekly, ‘I ought to look for a husband now before we are put out on the streets and I have no reputation to find any sort of a decent suitor.’

  At this last remark, the Duchess seemed to take an even heavier umbrage. Slamming her silverware on the table, she turned her glare to Robert.

  ‘Enough of this nonsense! I will not hear of it.’

  Alison again shrank into her chair, dropping her gaze and looking intently at the china dish of soup before her. Robert, determined not to allow the woman to intimidate him in his own home, held her stare and did not drop it.

  ‘I will do my duty for the sake of your father and the continuance of his family name. If you marry a suitable woman, I will assure you that Winfield Manor will be saved from auction. But it is on the provision that you marry, and marry soon Robert, and produce an heir as soon as is viable.’

  ‘You ask that I just go out and choose a wife when I am only returned from America. I hardly have any acquaintances that I have kept in touch with.’

  ‘If you will struggle Robert, I have someone in mind who will suit you very well.’

  ‘I would rather go back to war.’ Robert muttered.

  ‘I beg your pardon? Speak up for heaven’s sake.’

  ‘I feel, Your Grace, that you ask too much of me. I must return to the regiment as soon as possible. I have only been relieved due to the death of George.’

  ‘And what of the manor?’ She glared at him.

  ‘I will concede that may be a problem, but under the circumstances, I will see if I can raise a loan to pay off the debt. I have a few months yet before it is due in full.’

  The Duchess eyed him scornfully. Evident that he was not about to acquiesce to her demands, she was more than appalled.

  ‘You would put yourself in debt before getting married?’

  ‘I will do what needs to be done.’

  ‘Well for heaven’s sake, do not follow in your brother’s footsteps. Stay away from the gambling tables. It is a slippery slope that one cannot so easily free themselves and climb back from. Had he never seen a deck of cards; this would not now be thrust upon you.’

  Now alone in his brother’s study—it is your study now, he thought – Robert mulled over all the older woman had had to say, and was positively livid. She could well congratulate herself on humiliating his sister, attempting to beat him into submission, and speaking ill of his dead brother all in the same evening.

  It was at no surprise ti him that she was not often invited to Winfield Manor while his father and mother were still alive.. A cantankerous woman who held her own opinion in such high regard, as to completely discount the feelings or opinions of all around her; he knew his father would not have tolerated his own sister willingly.

  That being said, they were in quite a mess. No thanks to George. A mess that lay solely at his feet, and other than her suggestion of marrying and producing an heir as though he were going to the market to obtain one, he would have to figure out a plan to raise the money, to secure the manor at least.

  How he was going to do that, he had no idea. Having nothing of capital to wager, it was unlikely that he would be able to raise such a sum that would relieve them, but his pride would not allow him to consider the other option before him.

  War, in its own way, was easy. There was direction, an action, a means to an end. A mission to accomplish and steps to accomplish it. Life outside of war Robert did not find so easy, particularly when it came to love and women. The thought of settling down was almost repellent.

  Maybe it had been watching his own parents. The sacrifices they had made, the rules they had followed to appease what was expected. For whilst they respected each other, they were most certainly not in love, and he doubted they ever had been. Why would one put themselves through that—to tie oneself down for a lifetime with someone one did not love?

  Robert sat quietly by the fire in a large wing-backed chair staring into the flames, the brandy in his short glass barely touched. He spent most of the evening mulling over the issue at hand, and indeed getting nowhere near to a conclusion on either solution.

  Chapter 3

  Katie had been in poor form since her father had decided on her union with Lord Sutton. Tomorrow, he would announce their engagement, probably in the evening after the fox hunt her father had arranged. The feeling of helplessness grew ever more potent within her.

  Her maid, Grace, had already heard the rumours and had made an attempt to cheer her disposition that morning.

  ‘Lord Sutton seems like a lovely gentleman Lady Katherine.’ She said, arranging Katie’s hair.

  ‘He is.’ Katie agreed, for how could she not.

  It was the truth. But the truth did not make the match sufficient for her. She had wanted adventure her whole life, and the idea of freedom as she grew older was the only light that had held her hope. She had always felt that —once she reached an age where she could travel—she would be able to explore the world and see all the things she had read about in the many books that lined the walls of her father’s extensive library.