An Impulsive Kiss: A Regency Historical Romance
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Synopsis
Judson Jarvis, Marquess of Huntsberry, was raised by his uncle, who brutally punished Judson in order to toughen the orphaned weakling. As he grew in size, Judson retaliated against all the boys at school who had bullied him, until everyone became frightened of him. Now, Judson is angry, bored, and entirely friendless.
Lady Lucilla Alington is thoughtful and nurturing. She is making her come-out this Season, but her family worries that the wrong men will be attracted to her innocent charm and large dowry.When two rakehells decide to ruin the naïve young lady, Judson rashly intervenes, chasing away the men who would have ruined her reputation, and capturing her delicate lips with a fervent kiss. His impulsive action, meant to save her from ruination, sets off a chain reaction of unforeseen consequences.
Now bound together in a marriage of convenience, Judson and Lucy must navigate their way through the marriage forced upon them.
Can Judson and Lucy's impulsive choice become the foundation for a love that lasts a lifetime, or will the trials they face prove insurmountable?
Find the answer in bestselling author Alexa Aston’s An Impulsive Kiss, the second book in Captivating Kisses.
Each book in Captivating Kisses is a standalone story that can be enjoyed out of order.
Read in Kindle Unlimited!
Captivating Kisses
Book #1: An Unexpected Kiss
Book #2: An Impulsive Kiss
Book #3: An Innocent Kiss
Book #4: An Unforeseen Kiss
Book #5: An Enchanting Kiss
Book #6: An Urgent Kiss
Book #7: An Unforgettable Kiss
Book #8: A Promising Kiss
Book #9: A Possessive Kiss
Book #10: An Irresistible Kiss
Release date: April 11, 2025
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Print pages: 246
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An Impulsive Kiss: A Regency Historical Romance
Alexa Aston
PROLOGUE
Huntsworth, Surrey--1789
Judson Jarvis climbed from the carriage that had brought him home from his latest term at school. All the other boys had departed in the company of one or both their parents. An ache filled him each time he witnessed his fellow students greeting their parents, who enfolded their sons in happy embraces before leading them to the vehicle that would take them home.
Not Judson. His mother had died giving birth to him, while his father was continually in poor health and never left home. Because of that, Judson’s uncle lived at Huntsberry and was in charge of the marquess’ country estate, making all decisions regarding the land and its tenants.
Uncle Jeremiah never bothered to come for his nephew. Instead, he would send the carriage and merely have a footman and the coachman see that the heir apparent was delivered safely back to Huntsworth.
He thanked Tim, his favorite footman, who said, “I’ll see your trunk is brought to your room, my lord.”
“Thank you for bringing me home, Tim. You are a loyal and faithful servant. When I am the marquess someday, I will not forget your kindness to me.”
Tim beamed at him. “All in a day’s work, my lord. Happy to be of service to you.”
Judson entered the house, being greeted by Mrs. Clippman. He saw pity in the housekeeper’s eyes, something he saw repeatedly when other people looked at him. He was old enough to understand that sympathy showed compassion, whereas pity only showed how others felt sorry for him.
“Good evening, Mrs. Clippman. May I see my father, or is he already asleep?”
The last time he had been home from school, Papa had been more ill than usual. He had not received a single letter from his father this term and had tried to keep his growing panic at bay, fearful he would return home only to find Papa gone for good.
The housekeeper shook her head. “Mr. Jarvis told me to give you some milk and bread and see you to bed, my lord,” she said apologetically. “I’m certain you will be allowed to see his lordship tomorrow sometime. Your uncle, too.”
Anxiously, Judson asked, “How is Papa?”
“I am not a physician, my lord,” the housekeeper said crisply. “Mr. Jarvis will be able to tell you all about Lord Huntsberry’s condition when you see him in the morning.”
He knew the woman could tell him exactly the state of his father’s health, but she—like every servant in this household—was terrified of his uncle.
“Then I will bid you goodnight, Mrs. Clippman,” Judson said, trudging up the stairs to his bedchamber.
His trunk awaited him, and he opened and unpacked the little he had brought home for the summer. Many of his clothes and other possessions had vanished, as always. He was ten years of age but small in size and stature, leading the bullies at school to pick on him unmercifully. They also stole his belongings. Judson had long ago learned not to bring anything of value to school with him because it would be taken. No one in authority would help him recover it. The school’s tutors and its headmaster all turned a blind eye to any bullying amongst the students. If they were asked, they would deny the practice even took place.
A maid arrived with a tray for him. He thanked her and then ate the bread and cheese, washing it down with the accompanying cup of milk. He was determined to see Papa tomorrow morning, even before he breakfasted with his uncle.
Judson changed into a nightshirt, folding his clothes neatly and placing them on the chair next to his bed. He was too young to have his own valet, but Papa had said once he reached twelve years of age, he would be allowed to have one. Even though Tim was a footman, Judson had already decided to see him promoted into the position.
One good thing was that sleep would come easily to him tonight, thanks to there being no one here to roust him from bed and torment him. At school, he was afraid to close his eyes, living in terror of when the other boys would come for him in the middle of the night. Sometimes, only a day passed between attacks. Other times, a week, two weeks, or even a month would go by. He was never lulled into thinking the bullying had come to an end, however. Larger boys always came for him. They treated him cruelly, sometimes beating him until he was so battered and bruised, he could barely move. They never touched his face, though, not wanting to leave a trace of their abuse toward him.
On some occasions, he had been doused in cold water and made to stand for hours, shivering, his teeth chattering loudly. Once, a group had even left him locked outside in the snow, barefoot, wearing only his sodden nightshirt. It had surprised him that he had not died in the bitter cold. At times, he had actually prayed for death to come, not thinking he could endure another minute of the cruelty.
Yet he loved learning. Despite the fact no adult intervened in the horrible attacks on him, Judson soaked up every bit of knowledge imparted to him. He was excellent at maths and gifted when it came to languages, especially Latin, Greek, and French. He knew one day he would be the Marquess of Huntsberry, and he wanted to be prepared intellectually when he came into his title.
He awoke early, washing and dressing quietly before slipping from his room, and heading across the hall to Papa’s bedchamber. His uncle had long ago taken over the rooms meant for the marquess, saying they went to waste since his brother only occupied the bedchamber. Resentment toward Uncle Jeremiah roiled through him again, and Judson wished his father would banish his younger brother from the estate. Yet even at his tender age, Judson understood how his father could not handle the duties of his rank, and that Uncle Jeremiah did serve a purpose in the household.
Not bothering to knock, he merely slipped into the room. Usually, a servant sat with Papa overnight, but he saw no one in the room doing so. He went and opened the curtains before going to his father’s bedside, taking in his gaunt frame and labored breathing. Papa was incredibly pale, looking worse than he ever had. Part of him believed this would be his last summer with Papa, and he worried about what life would be like with his parent gone.
Judson wrapped his hands around one of his father’s, wishing for a moment that he had a different father. One who was healthy. One like other boys had. His schoolmates talked about how their fathers had taught them how to hunt. Ride. Fish. Swim. Papa had never been strong enough to do any of those things, and Judson had never learned any of those skills. He was too afraid to ask his uncle to teach him any of them, and if he asked a servant to do so, they would likely be in trouble and even lose their position if they did so.
“I am thirsty,” his father whispered hoarsely, his eyes opening. In them, Judson saw recognition, and his father smiled weakly at him. “My boy.”
“I am here, Father. Home for the summer. Let me get you something to drink.”
He released his father’s hand and looked to the table by the bed. A bowl half-full of broth stood there. Turning back to Papa, he helped him to sit up a bit, plumping the pillows behind his back. Then he reached for the bowl and held it to his father’s lips. Papa took a couple of sips and closed his eyes.
“Do you want more?” he asked eagerly.
“No.” The word came out defeated.
Judson put the bowl down again and perched upon the bed. He took Papa’s hand in his again and sat, content to merely be in his presence. His love of learning had been instilled in him by his father, who was a voracious reader.
Papa’s eyes slowly opened again. “Tell me . . . about school.”
He had never shared how he had no friends, much less revealed the extent of the bullying. Instead, he only told Papa of the good things, not wanting him to worry.
“I took the spelling prize again this spring,” he said enthusiastically. “I also had two poems published in the school newspaper.”
For the next few minutes, he entertained Papa with amusing stories of things that had happened at school, as well as his other accomplishments. Judson paid dearly for each academic success, though. Many of the bullies struggled in their coursework, and they punished him for how well he did in every subject.
“It seems you have had . . . a lovely time, Judson.”
“I have learned so much, Papa,” he said, knowing that was a truth, even as he glossed over how awful the entire year had been. His suffering was nothing compared to Papa’s.
“I need to go down to breakfast, Papa,” he said. “Get some rest now. I will be back to see you later. I will read to you if you like.”
The marquess gazed at him intently, as if he could see into Judson’s soul. “Be a good man, my son. I am already so very proud of you.” Exhausted, his father closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He leaned over and kissed Papa’s cheek before he left the room, making his way downstairs. Entering the breakfast room, he saw his uncle already there. Another man was present, as well, and Judson recognized Lord Blackwell. The earl was a frequent visitor to Huntsworth. Judson thought the nobleman to be a braggart and a drunk.
“Good morning, Uncle Jeremiah, my lord,” he said, taking a place at the table.
Immediately, a cup of milk and plate of food were set in front of him by different footmen. He had to force himself not to gobble it down.
“How were your marks this term?” his uncle asked.
“I earned top marks, Uncle,” Judson replied. “I scored the highest in each subject of any boy in my class.”
His uncle did not congratulate him, but Lord Blackwell said, “You might be smart, but you are still a scrawny little thing, aren’t you? When are you going to get some meat on your bones?”
He wished he could reveal that often much of his food was stolen from him by other boys, and that was the reason why he was so thin. Instead, he kept his mouth closed, knowing the earl didn’t expect a response from him.
Lord Blackwell, whom Judson suspected had been a bully during his own school days, pushed harder, saying, “It is too bad you are not like your uncle here. Why, Jarvis was the most fit, athletic student during our schooldays. He could shoot with great accuracy and was by far the best rider, both then and now.”
“My nephew takes after his parents, Blackwell. You know that. His mother was so fragile, she died giving birth to her brat. And my brother has never been strong. He emerged from the womb a weakling and has been so all his life. Huntsberry always had a tutor at home and never spent a single term away at school.”
Judson hadn’t known that about Papa and wished he, too, could be educated at home.
Boldly, he asked, “Would that be possible for me to do, Uncle Jeremiah? I am far ahead of my peers in my work. If I were able to remain at Huntsworth and continue my studies with a tutor, I could progress much further and faster.”
“No,” his uncle said bluntly, squashing Judson’s hopes. “School is where you will stay. I do not have time to look after you, since your father has thrust all the responsibilities of the Marquess of Huntsberry upon me, while I can never hold the title.”
His gaze pierced Judson. “I should have been the one who inherited everything. I was the one who was always stronger and cleverer. You are a little weakling—just as your father is.”
The harsh words washed over him, bringing hurt. He had never had much attention from his uncle, but he had also never been spoken to in such a sour manner. It was obvious his uncle’s hatred and resentment ran deeply, for both his brother and nephew.
Judson glanced about the room and saw the pity in one of the footman’s eyes. The servant averted his gaze.
Knowing he would be severely punished, he still looked directly at Uncle Jeremiah and said, “But you are a second son, aren’t you, Uncle? I am the heir apparent. One day, I will be the Marquess of Huntsberry. And you will not.”
His uncle frowned deeply. “Insolence does not suit you, Boy.” He signaled a footman. “Remove his food.”
The footman did so, and Judson wondered when he would have his next meal.
“Go to your bedchamber. I will deal with you later,” his uncle ground out. As Judson rose, he warned, “I better not find you anywhere else. You are not to visit your father without my permission.”
“Yes, Uncle,” he said meekly, leaving the breakfast room.
Returning to his bedchamber, he was thankful he had already visited with Papa earlier. He could live without the food, but he wondered how long Uncle Jeremiah would keep him from Papa’s side.
Thankfully, in times such as these, he was not bored. Reading was his favorite pastime, and Judson enjoyed escaping into other worlds, pretending he was someone brave and strong, such as Odysseus. Underneath his bed, he kept the complete works of William Shakespeare. He pulled the massive tome from its hiding place now. He remained on the floor, opening the book, and placing it in his lap. In case his uncle did come to see him, it would be easy to close the book and slide it under the bed and pretend he was merely sitting on the floor, staring into space.
Several hours passed, and he ignored the hunger pangs in his belly as he read Part 1 of Henry IV, chuckling to himself about Falstaff’s antics. Then he sensed the door opening, and he quickly placed his volume of Shakespeare under the bed. As he shot to his feet, he saw Tim closing the door. The footman hurried toward him, handing him a wrapped cloth. Judson opened it, finding a slice of bread and a hunk of cheese.
“Eat quickly, my lord,” Tim urged. “I heard your uncle is coming to see you soon.”
Gratitude filled him. “Thank you, Tim.”
The footman winked at him. “Can’t have you going hungry now, can we, my lord?”
He hurried from the room, and Judson quickly ate half of what had been brought. The rest, he wrapped back in the cloth Tim had brought it in and placed it on the floor behind the window’s curtains. His uncle would never think to look there. If Uncle Jeremiah cared to search the room, he would likely go for the wardrobe first and then the trunk. He might possibly look under the mattress or bed, only finding the volume of the bard. The food should be safe in its hiding place.
Another hour passed, and he wondered if Uncle Jeremiah would make an appearance or not. Suddenly, the door flew open, startling him. He was glad he had moved to the window seat.
“Come,” his uncle ordered.
Not knowing where they were going, trepidation set in. He crossed the room, moving toward his uncle, who stepped into the corridor and then moved into Papa’s bedchamber. Relief swept through him, but it quickly dissipated when he spied his father. His breathing was harsh and sporadic, and his face was bright red, as if from fever.
Judson ran to the bed and touched Papa’s forehead. “He is burning up,” he cried. “Send for the doctor.”
“I have,” Uncle Jeremiah said. “It will not do any good. This is the end. Say your goodbyes.”
A lump formed in his throat, making it almost impossible to speak. He forced it down as tears swam in his eyes. Judson cradled Papa’s cheeks.
“I love you, Papa. Please, don’t leave me.”
It was as if his father could no longer hear him, though. His breathing now rattled loudly and was so erratic, Judson worried that each breath Papa took would be his last. He found himself climbing onto the bed, curling up at his father’s side, one arm possessively over him.
In his head, he silently repeated over and over, Please, don’t go. Please, don’t go.
His father shuddered violently, and Judson held tightly onto him, knowing this was the end and wanting to convey his love for this gentle, kind man.
Then Papa wheezed a final time—and was still.
Judson continued to lie still, not ever wanting to let go, but his uncle harshly commanded, “Get up.”
Reluctantly, he did so, taking a seat in the chair next to the bed.
“I will stay with him until the doctor arrives.”
Uncle Jeremiah came to stand next to him. He clasped Judson’s shoulder so firmly that a small yelp emerged.
“You will go to your bedchamber and remain in it. You are no longer needed here.”
Stubbornly, he said, “I will stay with Papa. I do not want him left alone.”
His uncle’s fingers squeezed tightly, but this time, Judson refused to make a sound.
Seeing his defiance, Uncle Jeremiah then lifted Judson by his shirtfront, dragging him across the room and to his bedchamber.
Tossing him onto the floor, he said, “You will stay here. Until I return.”
Contempt for his only living relative filled him. “I am now the Marquess of Huntsberry. I will do as I wish.”
Uncle Jeremiah gaped at him—and then broke out in laughter. Anger burned through Judson.
“You are but a mere boy,” his uncle pointed out. “I am your guardian. Until you reach your majority at one and twenty, you will dance to the tune I play.”
Judson spent the next three days locked in his room. Servants came at regular intervals with a tray, but not one would speak to him. He spent much of his time at the window, watching the comings and goings since it faced the front lawn. The local doctor arrived soon after Judson’s confinement. Then neighbors came, including the Marquess and Marchioness of Aldridge, whose estate bordered Huntsworth. He assumed they came to pay their respects.
Finally, he saw the wooden coffin bearing his father’s body leave the house. It was placed in a cart and driven away. Shortly afterward, his uncle and Lord Blackwell left in the marquess’ carriage. Judson supposed they were going to Alderton, the nearby village. A section in the church’s graveyard was given over to the Jarvis family. He only hoped Papa was being laid to rest next to Mama.
It was late when the carriage returned. Only Uncle Jeremiah climbed from it, and Judson wondered where Lord Blackwell was. Shortly afterward, a knock sounded on his door, and Clippman entered. The butler had deep circles under his eyes, and Judson thought the servant must have sat vigil each night at his former employer’s side.
“My lord, Mr. Jarvis wishes to speak to you in the study.”
“I am allowed to leave to go and see him?” he asked, not wanting to anger his uncle.
“Yes, my lord.” The butler paused. “May I express my deepest regrets to you on the loss of Lord Huntsberry?”
“Yes, thank you, Clippman. I appreciate your words.”
The butler led him to the study. It was a room Judson had always enjoyed being in. He and Papa had spent many hours there, reading together, talking over history and religion and even a bit of politics.
When he entered, his uncle sat at Papa’s desk. Fury filled him, but Judson knew if he lashed out, it would do no good. His uncle was just as much a bully as those boys at school. He decided he would bide his time. It would take years.
But he would have revenge on Jeremiah Jarvis—and anyone else who had ever hurt him.
Clippman closed the door, and Judson stepped forward. “You wished to see me, Uncle?”
“Yes.” His uncle rose and came from behind the desk. “Have a seat.”
He took one next to the window, while his uncle sat opposite him.
“The solicitor has come and gone. Everything is official. I am your guardian and the executor of my brother’s estate until you reach your majority.” Bitterness crossed his face. “Even in death, I do the work of the Marquess of Huntsberry, yet I am denied the title.”
Fear filled him. The only thing standing between Uncle Jeremiah and the title was Judson himself. He would not put it past his uncle to do something dastardly and put an end to him. But he could never allow Uncle Jeremiah to see any sign of weakness. He must behave as if nothing had changed. Still, from this moment going forward, Judson would be on guard. He would never drink or eat anything his uncle offered him. He would do his best to never be alone with him. He wanted to live.
And be the best man he could in order to honor his father.
Uncle Jeremiah studied him. “You are too delicate. So very weak. You took the worst qualities from both your parents.” He paused. “It will be my job to toughen you up. Make you a man.”
Judson did not like the sound of that, but he did not react.
“Remove your clothes,” Uncle Jeremiah ordered.
“What?” he cried, leaping to his feet.
“You heard me. As I am your guardian and in charge of this estate, I am not to be questioned. No servant will ever stand against me. Do as I say.”
Bile rose in his throat. Even if he attacked, trying to claw his uncle’s eyes, he would prove no match for the older man. Jeremiah Jarvis was thirty years of age and in the prime of his life.
Having no choice, Judson stripped off his clothes and stood, jaw locked, glaring at his uncle, whose eyes roamed his nephew’s thin, bruised, scarred body.
“I see you have a few bruises,” Uncle Jeremiah noted. “It seems your school chums have also tried to make you a man.”
“Beating me will not make me a man,” he responded, causing his uncle to slap him.
Judson saw stars, but he did not cry out. Did not whimper. He merely stood his ground. He had already had plenty of practice doing so.
His uncle retrieved a cane. “It pains me to do this, but someone has to make a man out of you.”
He took each blow without a word. The cane cut into him, and Judson knew he would have scars from it. But he would never give his uncle the satisfaction of hearing a single squeak come from him. He would take anything doled out by this horrible man.
And return it sevenfold when he became an adult.
“You may dress again,” Uncle Jeremiah said, removing his handkerchief and wiping the cane. Judson stared at the blood. From that moment, his heart became encased in ice.
He decided he would never feel any emotion again, other than hate. He would allow his hate to grow, feeding it steadily over the years, until he exacted his revenge. On his uncle. On every boy who had struck and mocked him. His father had wanted his son to be a good man, but Judson knew as the years progressed, any good inside him would be beaten away, leaving him thirsting for revenge.
When the time came, he would punish everyone who had wronged him. Injured him. Wounded and harmed and terrorized him. Judson knew it would cost him his soul.
And he didn’t care.
CHAPTER 1
London—March 1807
Excitement buzzed through Lady Lucilla Alington. This afternoon, she would be seeing her cousins for the first time in more than a decade. The three related families lived in various corners of England, and the ten cousins had only been brought together for one magical week in London many years ago.
Lucy was making her come-out next month, along with her cousins Lia and Tia, daughters of the Duke and Duchess of Millbrooke. She had been drawn to the twins when they had met because they were the same age, and she couldn’t wait to spend the entire upcoming Season with them as they attended the many social events, looking to find their husbands.
It would be Uncle Charles and Aunt Alice coming to tea today, along with the twins and Lord Claibourne, who was the duke’s only son and heir apparent. She remembered Val as a fun-loving, mischievous sort, and he had been her brother Con’s closest friend for years. The boys had attended school and university together, even sharing rooms during their Oxford years.
She sat at her dressing table, checking her appearance, wanting to make a good impression on these cousins. They had played well together when they were girls, but she wondered what Lia and Tia would be like now they were grown up. More than anything, Lucy valued family, and she hoped her cousins would become her good friends during these months in town. She also hoped to make other friends during her debut.
A soft knock sounded on the door, and her maid Annie entered the bedchamber. Annie had been promoted to be her lady’s maid recently and would go with Lucy to her new household once she wed. She liked Annie’s no-nonsense approach, and the maid had a wonderful touch in dressing hair.
“My lady, Lord Dyer wishes for you to come to the drawing room now.”
Tea would not be served for another half-hour, so she wondered why Con wished to speak to her.
Rising, she said, “Thank you for letting me know, Annie.”
Lucy went to the drawing room, finding Con and another handsome gentleman with him. She came toward them and said, “You must be my cousin Val. Con constantly sings your praises.”
He smiled and took her hands in his. “Cousin Lucy. Ah, it has been too long since we have seen one another. That will be remedied this Season, however. You are all grown up and looking ever so lovely.”
“Come have a seat,” her brother urged. “Val thought he would stop by early and get to know you a little better before the rest of his family arrived.”
Her cousin said, “Five of us Worthingtons descending all at once is a little overwhelming. And that does not count Ariadne and Julian, who will not be in town for a while.”
Her cousin Ariadne had made her come-out last Season and wed the Marquess of Aldridge in the first wedding of the Season. Ariadne had given birth to their child only two weeks ago, a girl named Penelope.
“Will Ariadne even attend the Season this year?” she asked Val.
“She plans to do so,” Val revealed. “Sis wants to help in launching the twins—and you—into Polite Society. Ariadne has said that she and Julian will only attend a handful of events, but she wants to do all she can to help introduce you and our sisters to the right people.”
“Julian and Ariadne are also very busy with their orphanage,” Con said.
“I do not know anything about that,” Lucy said. “What orphanage?”
“They have bought and are managing Oakbrooke Orphanage,” Con told her. “They both feel very strongly about helping the poor as much as possible. Ariadne and Julian hired a headmistress, and the two women were responsible for hiring the rest of the teachers and staff.”
“They try to spend a few days in town each week,” Val added. “They volunteer their time at the school, teaching the orphans. Of course, the month leading up to the birth, they remained at Aldridge Manor. It was too difficult for my sister to travel even the short distance to town in her delicate condition.”
“Have you seen your new niece?” Lucy asked, longing for babes of her own. She hoped to find a husband and began a family soon, unlike her younger sister Dru, who had remained in the country at Marleyfield and showed no interest in marriage or babes.
“I most certainly have,” Val said, pride evident in his voice. “Penelope is the perfect babe. A heavenly creation.” He laughed. “It almost tempts me to find a wife of my own so I could have a child to lavish attention upon.”
“Wait a minute,” Con said. “I thought neither of us was perusing the Marriage Mart at this point.”
Val chuckled. “I said tempted, Con. I have no desire to wed at this point in my life. I would rather wait until I come into my father’s title, which hopefully will not occur for many years to come.”
Lucy looked to Con. “Do you feel the same way? Waiting until Papa is gone before you wed?”
“I do,” her brother confirmed. “Until then, Val and I are simply enjoying the bachelor life and each Season as it comes along. We also will be helping you and the twins in finding husbands. Val was charged to do so last year by his father on Ariadne’s behalf, and we intend to do the same for the three of you girls this year.”
Her cousin added, “There are some wonderful gentlemen who would make worthy husbands. On the other hand, there are a good number of rogues whom we wish to keep far away from the three of you.”
“Have no fears, little sister,” Con said. “The two of us will review each of your suitors. We want to keep away fortune hunters and men of less desirable character.”
“This is wonderful to hear,” Lucy declared. “I had no idea the two of you would be aiding me and my cousins.”
“Ariadne wound up with one of our very good friends,” Val said. “You will meet Julian when they come to town. They plan to do so a couple of days before the Season begins.”
“Oh, she must be so disappointed to leave her babe so soon after giving birth,” Lucy said.
“That is where you are wrong,” her cousin said. “My sister and brother-in-law have no plans to ever leave any of their children behind in the country as all of us were by our parents. Ariadne assured me that each Season, she will bring her entire family to town. She hopes all her cousins will do the same. Frankly, the Season is a time for family and friends to come together, and I do not understand why children are always left behind.”
“If Ariadne is going to bring her children to town, then so will I,” Lucy said, not certain if Val had things right or not and thinking it was only because Penelope was so young that she had accompanied her parents to town. Wistfully, she added, “I always felt as if Mama and Papa abandoned us each year to head to town for so many months.”
“We are a new generation,” Con remarked. “Perhaps we can set the stage for change within the ton, helping families to stay united. I know I want my own children to get to know yours. Val’s and Ariadne’s, as well.”
Lucy was even more eager to meet her cousins again now, and she knew that would happen soon because her parents entered the drawing room.
“Ah, Valentinian,” Mama said fondly. “You came separately from your family?”
He greeted her parents, saying, “Con and I were at White’s and decided to come together.”
They seated themselves and Mama said, “I am so looking forward to seeing my brother. We were extremely close growing up and have remained so all these years. It is the highlight of each Season getting to spend time with him and his duchess. Are your sisters eager to make their come-outs?”
“They are, Aunt Charlotte. They have seen how happy Ariadne is in her marriage, and they look upon Julian as another brother to them. In fact, the twins even went to Aldridge Manor for Christmas this past year, and they also visited Oakbrooke Orphanage and spent time with the orphans.”
Mama sniffed dismissively. “I am not quite certain that I understand why they devote so much of themselves to that orphanage. Yes, it is important for members of Polite Society to help support the poor, but Aldridge and Ariadne have gone a bit to the extreme. I believe they should focus on their own family.”
“It makes them happy, Mama,” Con said. “And they are remaining in the country now since Penelope’s birth.”
Their butler entered the drawing room, announcing their guests. Lucy rose, along with the others, wondering what her cousins looked like now.
The duke and duchess swept into the room first, and she thought the pair had not changed much at all. Her uncle’s hair was threaded with more gray than the last time she had seen him, while her aunt had a few more wrinkles. Still, she would have recognized them anywhere.
Following them came their twins, and Lucy couldn’t help but smile as her cousins’ gazes turned to her first. While they both still resembled one another in the face, there were marked differences between the pair. Lia was the shorter of the two, with auburn hair and deep blue eyes. Her curves were obvious, and Lucy thought she and Lia could probably wear one another’s clothes with ease. Tia had strawberry blond hair and clear, sky-blue eyes, and possessed a willowy frame.
Greetings and kisses were exchanged, and she saw Aunt Alice sizing her up. While Lucy had never given a thought to thinking herself in competition for a husband with her cousins, her aunt’s gaze betrayed that was at the forefront of her mind.
“You have turned into a lovely young lady, Lucilla,” her aunt remarked. “I do believe you and my girls will be the most beautiful in this year’s come-out class.”
“I am so happy to be making my come-out with my cousins,” Lucy replied.
Aunt Alice smiled. “Ariadne made a brilliant match last Season. I expect nothing less for Thermantia and Cornelia. And you, of course.”
Hearing her cousins’ given names surprised her, for she always thought of them as Tia and Lia. Her mother and Uncle Charles had been fascinated by Roman and Byzantine history, along with their cousin George. The three had named all their children after emperors and empresses, though most of the children had rebelled against their unusual names, taking on more diminutive forms of them.
Two teacarts were rolled in, and Mama said, “We adults have much to discuss amongst ourselves, and you young people would be bored by our conversation. Lucilla, you are to pour out for your brother and cousins.”
Lucy knew this was a great honor, being asked to do so even before she had made her debut. She had practiced the etiquette of tea many times with her governess and hoped she would not make a mistake today.
“I am happy to do so, Mama.”
The cousins all went to the far side of the drawing room, where the second teacart was being placed. They took seats, and she began the process of preparing and pouring out for the group.
As she did so, Lucy said, “Why don’t you each make up a plate for yourselves? That way, things will go more quickly.”
Val reached and handed a plate to each of his sisters before taking one of his own, while Con picked up one for himself. Her brother distributed the cups and saucers she handed to him. Lucy then poured out for herself and took a piece of strawberry cake and a ham sandwich for herself.
Tia, whom Lucy remembered was the more outgoing of the two sisters, said, “We are thrilled to be making our come-outs with you, Lucy. Have you been to see Madame Laurent yet? Mama told us Madame is the only modiste she trusts in all of London. She made up Ariadne’s complete wardrobe last Season.”
“No, we have only been in town since yesterday afternoon. Mama has scheduled time at Madame Laurent’s shop for us, however. Have you visited her yet?”
“No,” Lia said. “Mama needs to write for an appointment. It would be wonderful if we could all go together on the same day and choose materials and styles of the various gowns to be made up.”
“Let us ask them after tea if that is possible,” she suggested.
The next hour passed pleasantly, with Con and Val describing the various social affairs to them. She could not wait to attend garden and card parties, musicales, and Venetian breakfasts. Most of all, Lucy was excited about the many balls to be held throughout the Season.
“Do you enjoy dancing?” she asked the twins.
“We have had a dance master for three years now,” Tia explained. “Lia is naturally graceful and took to everything with ease. I am a bit more exuberant, but I have learned to dance quite well, if I do say so myself. We have attended various assemblies in Willowshire, a village nearby Millvale. What about you, Lucy?”
“I, too, have had a dance master. Mama has retained another one for the next few weeks to refresh me on various steps and dances. Con has escorted me to assemblies in our local village, as well. I think balls will be the most fun of all this Season.”
She glanced to the other side of the room and saw it looked as if her aunt and uncle were ready to leave.
“We should rejoin our parents,” Lucy said. “I want to ask our mamas about a joint appointment at Madame Laurent’s.”
The five cousins returned to the adults, who rose. Quickly, Lucy asked about seeing the modiste together.
“That is an excellent idea,” Mama proclaimed. “That way, you will have both my expertise and that of your aunt in recommending what should be included in your wardrobe.”
She could barely contain her excitement, ready to form a strong bond with these cousins of hers.
“I shall send Madame Laurent a message and make arrangements for all three of our girls to be seen together,” Mama promised.
“It was so good to see all of you,” Papa told their guests.
Uncle Charles said, “You must come for tea tomorrow afternoon. I insist, Charlotte. Agnes will be there, as well.”
Lucy’s aunt Agnes had been married to her uncle George, and she was now a widow. Lucy hoped Mama would say yes. She would love to spend more time with her cousins and also see Aunt Agnes.
“We would be delighted to do so,” Mama declared
“Until tomorrow,” Aunt Alice said.
They accompanied their guests downstairs, where they claimed their things. As Uncle Charles set his hat on his head, Lucy saw the expression on his face turn odd. Something came out of his mouth, not exactly words, but gibberish. All eyes turned to the duke as he spoke again, this time his words slurring, the right corner of his mouth drooping in an odd fashion.
Then her uncle collapsed upon the marble floor of the foyer.
Aunt Alice shrieked. Lia and Tia stood frozen. Val sprang to his father, stripping off his coat and folding it, placing it under his father’s head.
“Send for the doctor,” Papa commanded crisply.
“I will go,” Con volunteered, dashing out the door.
Suddenly, footmen appeared, along with the butler, and Mama said, “Take His Grace upstairs to the Blue Room,” her voice cracking.
Quickly, the servants, directed by Val, lifted Uncle Charles and hurried up the stairs with him. Mama and Papa followed, both of them supporting Aunt Alice.
Her heart went out to her mother, knowing how much her mother loved her brother. More importantly, Lucy needed to help take care of her cousins now.
Going to them, she embraced them together. “Come. We should go back to the drawing room and wait for the doctor.”
Lia was the first to speak. “It is apoplexy,” she said solemnly. “I visited one of our tenants who was struck by it. He was bedridden until he passed.” She began weeping softly.
Tia wrapped her arm about her twin. “We do not know that, Lia,” she said fiercely. “The doctor will come. He will fix Papa.”
Gently, she took her cousins in hand and guided them upstairs to the drawing room, where they waited in silence.
Con, his hair looking windblown, joined them, saying, “The doctor is with Uncle Charles now.”
After half an hour, Mrs. Adams appeared. The housekeeper asked, “Shall I bring tea, my lady?”
She looked to her cousins, who shook their heads.
“No, not now, Mrs. Adams, but thank you.”
Another hour passed, and then Papa and Mama entered the room. Her mother, usually so cool and reserved, looked as if she had aged a decade in the last few hours. Papa guided her toward them.
Mama’s lips trembled as she said, “There is no easy way to say this. Your papa is gone,” she told the twins. “You may come say your goodbyes to him.”
Lucy, who had continued to hold her cousins’ hands, squeezed them now. She rose, pulling Lia and Tia with her. Both her cousins began to sob.
“Where is Mama?” Lia asked.
“She became hysterical,” Papa explained to his nieces. “The doctor has given her something to quiet her. She will sleep for now. He will give you something, as well, if you wish.”
“No,” Tia said firmly. “Lia and I have one another. And Val. We must be strong for Mama.” She looked to Lucy. “Will you come with us?”
She nodded. “Of course.”
Accompanying her cousins to the Blue Room, Lucy spied Val standing next to the bed. He came and embraced his sisters, saying, “He went peacefully. One minute, he was here. The next, he was gone.”
The twins went to their father. Both looked at him a long moment before kissing his cheek.
Val said, “We will take him home to Millvale. He will be buried in the churchyard at Willowshire. I will have Con escort the two of you home now. Aunt Charlotte and I will handle the details. I will also send a messenger to Aldridge Manor to let Ariadne and Julian know.”
“When will we see Mama?” Lia asked softly.
“The doctor said she will sleep until tomorrow morning,” Val told her. “See that the servants pack everything. We will return to Kent immediately.” He hesitated. “This means that there will be no Season for the two of you this year. We will be in mourning.”
The twins nodded, and Val said, “Your time will come next year. What is important is to be with Mama. I will stay with you, as well. As the new duke, I have many responsibilities to see to and much to learn.”
Disappointment flooded Lucy. While she understood that her cousins would need to mourn for their father, she had looked forward to their company in the coming months.
Then it struck her. If the Worthingtons were in mourning, would Mama also be in mourning—and by extension—her own family? She hated thinking such selfish thoughts.
Con spoke up. “Let me take you home now.”
Tia came and threw her arms about Lucy. “I am sorry we will not be here this Season with you.”
Lia joined them, hugging Lucy tightly. “Take care. Write to us about everything if you would.”
“I promise to do so,” she replied, still unsure of her own status regarding her come-out.
Her brother escorted the twins from the room. Lucy went to Val, hugging him and expressing her condolences.
Mama said, “I must speak to Lucilla briefly, Valentinian, then we shall sit and discuss what needs to be done regarding His Grace.”
Her mother took Lucy’s wrist and led her into the corridor.
“I am so sorry for your loss, Mama. I know how much you loved Uncle Charles. I wish I could have known him better.”
“I wanted to tell you this changes nothing,” Mama said. “You will make your come-out as planned.”
“We will not be in mourning?” she asked quietly.
“I will always mourn the loss of Charles,” Mama said brusquely. “But it is important to secure your future. You are a very pretty girl, Lucilla, and you will attract a good number of suitors. Cornelia and Thermantia are also striking. They would have been competition for you. I see no reason for you to wait until next year and have to fight for a husband with that pair challenging you every step of the way.”
Lucy thought her mother’s words harsh. Even unfeeling. She also knew when Mama made up her mind about something, there was no changing it.
“All right, Mama,” she agreed. “I will continue with making my come-out.”
Mama smiled, patting her daughter’s cheek. “You will shine, Lucilla. Madame Laurent will see to that. She is incredibly creative and will know just how to flatter your figure. We will keep our current appointment with the modiste so that she may start your wardrobe.”
She frowned. “But that is two days from now. Surely, we are going to Surrey for the funeral and burial.”
Mama snorted. “Women are usually kept from funerals. I see no reason to go. Launching you into Polite Society is my priority.”
The reply shocked her. Lucy had not known the Season was so combative.
Mama smoothed Lucy’s hair. “I see a great match for you, my dear. Especially with two fewer girls to distract the current crop of eligible bachelors.”
“Lia and Tia are your nieces, Mama,” she chided.
Her mother gazed coldly at her. “And you are my daughter. My allegiance is to you—and seeing you make the best match of the Season. Ariadne did so last year. It is up to you to make a brilliant one of your own this year.”
Mama sighed. “I must go help Valentinian make the arrangements. A coffin must be built in order to transport Charles back to Millvale. We will talk again tomorrow.”
Lucy was left in the corridor, feeling numb. She returned to her bedchamber and lay on the bed. Sadness filled her. The loss of her uncle was part of it, but losing out on the closeness she would have experienced with Tia, Lia, and Val was the greater part.
Now, she would go into the Season alone, not knowing a soul beyond Con.
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