A Lady for the Brazen Earl: A Historical Regency Romance Book Read online

“Then why go, Mother?” Lady Prudence Montgomery, Veronica’s daughter, shrugged dismissively.

  “For goodness sake, child, what a notion!” The Countess sat bolt upright, suddenly finding the energy from somewhere with which to fight back. “You really are the most willful and obstructive sort of a girl.”

  “I do not see that I am being willful, Mother. I am simply suggesting that if the London Season is such a great chore to you, why on earth would you put yourself through it?”

  “Because everybody attends the London Season, Prudence. Everybody of note that is.”

  “So, we are of note, are we?”

  “Prudence, please do not vex our mother.” Heath Montgomery, the Earl of Reddington for the last two years since the passing of his father, strode into the drawing room. “After all, the London Season is the most important social event in and of itself, and I daresay that you will not seek to stay here at Reddington Hall and miss it yourself, Prudence. As such, I think you ought to keep such dull sentiments to yourself.”

  “I should very gladly stay at Reddington Hall and miss it, Brother,” Prudence bit back.

  “And I shall not hear of that.” Once again, their mother was in the conversation. “After all, you might very well happen across a husband for yourself. In those terms, the London Season is absolutely invaluable.”

  “A husband for myself? Good heavens, have you suddenly taken an interest, Mother?” Prudence said in a most offhand manner. “I thought the London Season existed solely as a means of you finding the perfect daughter-in-law. Surely you will be too busy finding Heath a wife to go searching for a husband for me.”

  “That is enough, Prudence,” Heath hissed and glared at his sister firmly until finally, her head dropped.

  “It is of utmost importance that your brother marries, my dear.” Veronica Montgomery had assumed the most curious and motherly tone. “Because, as I have told you time and time again, we need to ensure the family line. We are not going to do that through you, Prudence. It is just the way of things, and I do wish that you would accept it. Your brother is the Earl and my only son. As such, it is imperative that he find a wife and produce an heir at the earliest opportunity.”

  “And of course, she must be wealthy,” Prudence added, in a mock attempt at helpfulness.

  “Of course, she must be wealthy. Earldoms do not survive without funds, my dear.”

  “We are hardly poor, Mother.”

  “Because of generations of good marrying. I myself brought a good deal of my own family’s wealth into Reddington when I married your father. Again, it is the way of the world. I could not bear to think that Reddington would not stay in the Montgomery family for generations to come simply because we either ran out of money or ran out of male heirs. That would be laziness and poor management on our part, and I will not have it.” Lady Veronica rose to her feet from the sumptuous couch. “Really, you have given me a headache. I shall lie down for a while. Prudence, have some tea sent up for me to my rooms.” And with that, Lady Veronica floated from the room in a haze of sky blue chiffon that did not suit her for a moment.

  “I do wish you would not upset our mother like that, Prudence,” Heath said, although his tone was decidedly less chilly now that his mother had left the room and was a witness no longer.

  “And I do wish you would not always side with her, Heath. At times, I feel I have no ally at all under this roof,” Prudence said sadly.

  “What a thing to say, Prudence. I am your ally, am I not?” Heath crossed the room and sat down on the pale green velvet-covered couch his mother had just vacated. He patted the seat beside him and looked at his sister hopefully. “Come and sit with me,” he said in cajoling tones.

  “As you wish,” Prudence said although the animus had left her own voice also.

  “I know that you think that our mother favours me over you, but she does not really.” Suddenly, he found himself keen to make his sister feel a little better.

  In truth, he did not always feel so, thinking that it was only right that their mother put all her efforts into his life since he was the Earl after all. However, now and again, it struck him that his younger sister always seemed just a little on the edge of things, a somewhat lonely figure in a sprawling mansion. Of course, he had always known that his mother was not a particularly maternal sort of creature, but he sometimes wondered if that did not hurt a daughter very much more than it hurt a son.

  “Heath, I am beyond caring whether Mother favours you over me or not. I do not think she particularly cares for the future happiness of either one of us. It is truly only bloodline and family name that she has ever cared for, but I must admit that I find her obsession with it all a little trying.”

  “Prudence, she is right. It is the way of things. I am the Earl and I must, at some point, produce an heir. Being her only son, I realize that our mother is keen to have an heir in waiting should anything happen to me. I must admit, at times, I wish she would not dwell upon thoughts of my early demise, and yet she must. In fact, so must I.”

  “If it is all so important, why are you not already married, Heath? After all, you are eight and twenty years, and Papa has been departed these last two.”

  “I daresay I am struggling to find a woman I can settle upon. And I do not know if it is because there is too much choice or not enough.” Heath shrugged and was pleased to hear Prudence laugh for the first time in as long as he could remember. “Or perhaps it is because I am too fussy.”

  “My dear brother, you are only fussy in terms of a lady’s appearance. As for anything else, it strikes me that you could not care for a moment what sort of character nor even morals a young lady has. It is little wonder that you have found yourself unable to settle upon anybody. Really, you do choose to turn your attentions to young ladies who have nothing but their looks to recommend them.”

  “And money,” he said and gave her what he hoped was a disarming grin.

  “Precisely, Heath. Do you not think these are really shallow wants in the world?”

  “I cannot apologize for enjoying the company of beautiful young ladies, Sister.”

  “But do you really enjoy their company, Heath? Is it not solely the case that you enjoy looking at them, and it is their company that you cannot settle upon? Really, if you are aiming for the same sort of young lady over and over again, will it not always have the same result? Will you not always find yourself unable to settle upon them and curiously unable to fathom the reason why?”

  “I say, you are a little too wise for just twenty years, are you not?” He grinned at her, but she did not grin back.

  “You do not need to make a mockery of what I say to you, Heath. After all, I think I am quite right in what I am saying. If you are not careful, your vanity will lead you to allow our mother to find you the most appalling match imaginable. And whilst you and I are not particularly close, certainly not as close as many brothers and sisters are, I should not like to see you pay that price. Because it shall be a price, in the end, Heath, mark my words.”

  “You do not have a moment’s faith in our mother, do you?” he said and felt a little torn.

  Whilst he knew that much of what his sister said was, indeed, quite true in terms of their mother, still he did not want to confront the whole thing. And his mother was no different than many other mothers with a son who was a man of great title. To be obsessed with heirs, bloodline, and family name, not to mention an Earldom which stayed within the Montgomerys forevermore, did not set the Countess of Reddington apart from so many other women in her position.

  “You are quite right, Prudence,” Heath began, a little sadly. You and I are not as close as we really ought to be. I sometimes wonder if that is not my fault.”

  “It certainly is not mine,” Prudence said a little harshly and in a way which reminded him of her as a little girl.

  Prudence had always given her opinions most decidedly and seemed to have been able to see clear through their mother at such a young age where he had not. W
ell, he had not bothered to try, at any rate.

  “Prudence, you are always ready to fight with me; why is that?” Heath said, his humour still good.

  “I do not mean to, Brother. I suppose it has been the position I have so often found myself in within this household. Perhaps it has become a habit. And yet, in terms of everything I have said to you today, I do not take back a word of it. I mean all of it, Heath.”

  “I know you do, Prudence,” Heath said and sat back against the padding of the couch and stared across the room.

  In truth, he had wanted to take his sister’s hand as she sat there beside him. He had wanted to comfort her and, at the same time, gain a little comfort for himself. After all, was that not the benefit of having siblings? However, he knew that they were certainly not close enough for such a thing and, something inside him did not want to contemplate the rejection that would inevitably follow such an act of closeness.

  Instead, he looked out across the vastness of the drawing-room. It had been newly decorated in a pale green which contrasted smartly against the dark oak paneling of the walls. Despite the many and varied portraits which hung on every wall, still, the pale green colour seemed to be the primary of the room.

  Many of the couches and chairs were upholstered in a similar sort of green, with one or two chairs covered in brightly contrasting and regal red velvet. The many rugs on the wide and dark oak floorboards were also in red, as were the rich drapes at the enormous windows.

  When he had agreed to spend the money on the new decoration, Heath had to a high degree left the decisions upon the scheme to his mother. In truth, if she had one good quality to her name, it was taste. Lady Veronica knew that ostentation should always end just at the point at which it might be noticed. That way, she achieved a very wealthy and rich look without it seeming at all out of place or overdone.

  As his eyes wandered the room, they settled upon the largest portrait; that of his own father when he was of a similar age to Heath himself.

  As had been pointed out by almost every visitor to Reddington Hall who had made their way into the drawing-room, the resemblance between father and son had been striking. A person could easily be forgiven for thinking the portrait to have been a recent one of Heath, so alike were they. Although the portrait was head and shoulders only, there was something about his father’s bearing that would rightly lead anybody looking upon the richly painted oils to assume that he had been a tall man. And Heath had inherited his father’s height with an inch or two to spare, which almost always rendered him the tallest man in the room at any given social event.

  Not only the tallest but very much the broadest. He had not only inherited his father’s great height, but also his strong, sturdy build and straight back.

  However, whenever he thought of his father, it was in his later years and never as the young man he had been in the richly and faithfully painted portrait. It was only as he sat dwelling upon his sister’s prediction for his own matrimony did he wonder how it was his father had taken to his own. After all, he had been not much younger than Heath when he had married Veronica Darlington, the daughter of a minor baron in Bedfordshire. He could not help wondering if his mother was as intent on the continuance of the Montgomery family line back then as she was now, or had it been only something which had developed as she watched her own son grow?

  Veronica had, of course, come from great money and that seemed to have shaped her personality, much as it did in almost everybody else he knew. But for some reason, everything seemed to be so much more pronounced in his own mother, and he silently wondered if his sister, far from being a jealous sibling or a disgruntled child, was actually a little more accurate than he was comfortable with.

  “I meant what I said to Mother, Heath. I would much rather stay here at Reddington than go to London for the Season,” Prudence said, suddenly reminding him that she was still there.

  “You know that our mother would not hear of it, Prudence,” he said and gave her smile. “And you know that I will not hear her continual moaning upon the subject. So, I am afraid you may not stay here at Reddington, Sister.”

  “I had not imagined for a moment that I would be allowed to,” Prudence said silently and rose to her feet.

  Without another word, she made her way out of the drawing-room, and he realized, somewhat sadly, that what might have been a moment of closeness between them had most definitely passed.

  Chapter 3

  “But you have never been interested in the London Season, Imogen,” Lord Ronald Pennington said, joining them late and helping himself to a large sherry. “Forgive me, Adeline, I was in the rose garden and quite forgot myself. Do excuse my tardiness.”

  “Ronald, surely it was my presence that you forgot, and not yourself,” Lady Adeline said with a laugh.

  “I forget how wisely I have to pick my words when I am in your company, Adeline.” Ronald smiled and raised his sherry glass towards his daughter and her guest. “I suppose it keeps me on my toes, keeps the blood pumping round so to speak.”

  “Whatever I can do to help, Ronald,” Adeline said and took a sip of her sherry. “But I must say, you look awfully well for your trip around the rose garden, so I suppose it is not to be discouraged.”

  “I think I heard something approaching a compliment in amongst all that, Adeline,” Ronald said, easing himself down into a high, wingback armchair as he eyed his guest shrewdly. “Which must mean that you either want something or you have something dreadful to tell me. Which is it, good woman?”

  “Well, I have nothing dreadful to report,” Adeline said and smiled. “I am only here to discuss the London Season with your daughter and, obviously, your good self.”

  “Yes, we are back to the London Season once again, are we not?” Ronald looked from Imogen to Adeline and back again in silent interrogation. “So, what is the scheme?”

  “Why must there be a scheme, Papa?” Imogen said but could barely contain her smile.

  “My dear child, I can see it on your face. You can hardly hide your excitement from me. And since I know that you entirely detested the London Season from one end to the other on the only occasion you have ever attended, I know there must be some scheme.”

  “You have it most exactly, Papa,” Imogen said, finally letting the smile erupt across her pale and pretty face. “There is a scheme of sorts, it is true.”

  “So, what is it?” he said and closed his eyes to listen as if it would somehow improve comprehension.

  “Papa, you know that Adeline and I are very keen to conduct some of our charitable works in London?” Imogen said, hoping that her father had been listening on previous occasions when she had mentioned it. In truth, she had not wanted to go through the entire thing again.

  “Yes, soup kitchens, was it not?” he said hopefully, his eyebrows rising high despite the fact that he continued to keep his eyes closed.

  “No, Papa, it was not soup kitchens,” Imogen said in comically scandalized tones. “I knew you were not listening.”

  “It is not that I do not listen, my dear sweet child; it is that you have so much to tell me that I often get it confused. Really, you give no exception for my advancing years, do you?”

  “Goodness me, Ronald, you are five years younger than I, and you are a sharper than a knife, even though you pretend not to be at times,” Adeline scolded playfully.

  “I suspect that this is what is known as a pincer movement,” Ronald said, his eyes still closed as he changed the subject as best he could. “I have one of you either side of me, and I am helpless prey; any moment you shall each pierce me with your great claws.”

  “Papa, that really is dreadfully dramatic,” Imogen said and laughed heartily.

  Imogen had always known that she had been extraordinarily blessed when the good Lord had seen fit to provide her with such a father. Ronald Pennington, hereditary Lord, had always been just a little bit different from everybody else she had known; certainly, everybody else in her father’s own financi
al and titular circumstances.

  It was not that Ronald Pennington did not take his title seriously, more that he did not seek to conform to the ever-changing whims and wants of society at large. He was a man who enjoyed a certain sort of company and did not seek to impress a living soul. It was true to say that he had chosen a wife of so similar temperament and characteristics that Pennington Hall had been such a relaxed and liberal place for a child to grow up. It was not until Imogen had been old enough to develop friendships of her own and to visit other households that she realized quite how lucky she had been.

  Up until that point, Imogen had always supposed that all families continued on much as hers did, with only the most interesting of guests and the warmest of atmospheres. It had never occurred to Imogen that other people involved themselves in all sorts of activities and events in which they had little or no interest whatsoever. And the idea that some people involved themselves in things they had a particular dislike for, such as hunting or dancing, simply to be in the right place at the right time was entirely baffling to her.