Confessions of Lady Tabitha, page 1
Confessions of Lady Tabitha
A REGENCY ROMANCE NOVEL
BRIDGET BARTON
Copyright © 2021 by Bridget Barton
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Table of Contents
Confessions of Lady Tabitha
Table of Contents
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Confessions of Lady Tabitha
Introduction
Chapter 1
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
Chapter 19
Epilogue
A Love Portrait for the Silent Duke
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
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Confessions of Lady Tabitha
Introduction
Lady Tabitha Browning dreams of meeting her one true love and having a blissful married life. When she meets Leo Whittier, the Marquess of Bazeley, she is flattered by his attention and charm, until she discovers the dark side of him... Tabitha feels devastated when her father announces that she is to marry this cold-hearted man no matter what. With desperation haunting her every step, Tabitha turns to Jeremy Gibbs, her father's steward, who will soon steal her heart…
Will Tabitha dare to defy high society’s rules for her one true love?
Jeremy Gibbs knows very well that no good can come from loving a duke's daughter, but the heart plays painful games… When he finds out about Tabitha's engagement, his heart breaks into pieces. However, after discovering that the Marquess is a scoundrel, he doesn’t hesitate to put his job and reputation on the line to rescue her. With time running out, will Jeremy find a way to escape from a hopeless impasse?
If only fighting for a forbidden love was not a road full of dangerous thorns...
Despite the terrible circumstances, Jeremy and Tabitha savour the precious time they spend together. Still, class differences and a threatening antagonist are just some of the hurdles Jeremy and Tabitha must overcome in order to unite their two separate worlds. Will Jeremy and Tabitha fight the odds and prove that love conquers all? Or will the cruel fate of reality tear them apart forever?
Chapter 1
The hum of chattering guests and softly playing music drew Tabitha like a butterfly to the sweetest nectar. Her soul mate was surely in this room, and she was ready to meet him.
Turning to her father, she called out to him, but he didn’t seem to hear. The duke appeared focused ahead and a little troubled.
“Papa?”
He looked down, a slight frown marring his usually jovial face. “Yes, my dear?”
“Is something amiss?”
“No,” her father replied, his frown deepening for a second before smoothing away until only his permanent lines remained. “Why do you ask?”
“You appear to be concerned about something. Is there someone you’re looking for?”
“Oh, hush, dear,” her mother admonished. “Your father is merely thinking about your success. This is your very first ball, after all, and we wish you to make a good impression.”
Tabitha could understand that. She was just as concerned about this ball, but her excitement far outweighed any undesirable emotions.
“Do not fret, Papa,” Tabitha assured him. “I will not do anything to bring shame to our family.”
The duke affectionately patted her hand resting on his forearm. “I know, dear. ’Tis a father’s prerogative to fuss about his daughter’s first ball. Do you have your dance card with you? I have a few suggestions for your partners, particularly your first dance.”
This piqued Tabitha’s interest. “Oh? Who would that be?”
“Lord Bazeley,” her father announced. “It’s unfortunate I cannot see him yet. Perhaps he hasn’t arrived.”
Tabitha had never heard about this man, but he was important enough that her father knew him and wanted her to dance with him.
“Who is he, Papa? A friend?”
“Something like that. He is a distinguished marquess and well-respected by his peers.”
Which meant he would probably be old and unattractive. Tabitha’s heart sank. She had hoped her first dance would be with a handsome man who was both young and an accomplished dancer.
Tabitha was often told by her friends that she was a gifted and graceful dancer and was eager to make it known during her first Season. Everybody would surely admire her and say wonderful things about her nimble feet and youthful gaiety.
Looking around, Tabitha noticed how people observed her openly. Shyness refused her to gaze upon them with as much frankness, but she was secretly pleased. She was not in any way vain about her beauty, but Tabitha was aware of its effect on others. There was seldom a room she walked into where people did not pause their conversation and watch her.
She presumed it was the combination of her golden hair and emerald-green eyes surrounded by fair skin and almost permanently flushed cheeks that drew their appreciative gazes. Tabitha’s mother often commented that Tabitha’s joie de vivre maintained her rosy cheeks and delicate features, making her appear younger than her nineteen years. Mandee’s opinion was altogether different.
The handmaiden, and Tabitha’s closest friend, attributed Tabitha’s appearance to her mischievous deeds and playful manner. Whichever it was, it worked in Tabitha’s favour.
“Alfred,” her mother began, “I feel a tad parched, and I’m sure Tabitha is as well. Why don’t you get us some wine, and we’ll find somewhere to sit?”
The duke agreed, weaving his way through a small crowd as Tabitha and her mother went in the opposite direction. Sitting areas had been set up along the walls of the vast ballroom, and while most were already occupied, they managed to find a comfortable spot beside the Dowager Countess of Windbatten.
Tabitha found the old woman rather odd but interesting. Her father often called the dowager senile, but Tabitha disagreed. The woman’s mind was sharp and observant, but her peculiar ways made her seem forgetful, frail, and someone not many wished to be around. They put up with the dowager, but most people avoided her at all costs. Fortunately, Tabitha’s mother liked the older woman and didn’t mind sitting beside her.
“It took you long enough to arrive, Trina,” the dowager expressed sharply as soon as they drew up to her. “I have been alone for some time.”
“I assumed you were not coming this evening,” Tabitha’s mother explained. “You were rather vocal about not being amongst ‘fuddy-duddies’.”
Tabitha giggled at the word. The dowager used it to describe the Ton despite being part of the very same society.
“I decided to come and observe how foolish everyone has become since I last saw them,” the woman declared, casting twinkling eyes at Tabitha. “It will give me something to laugh about when I return to Surrey. Have you seen Fletcher’s girl? She looks like a fluffy cloud of dribble.”
Tabitha’s mother looked around, placing a warning hand on the woman’s frail wrist. “Do not speak so loudly, Countess. Someone might hear you.”
“But look at her,” the dowager insisted. “Is she not ridiculous with those puffy sleeves and ruffles that do nothing to hide her unsightly double chin?”
Tabitha looked at the old woman’s own chin, watching the excess skin shake whenever the dowager spoke.
“Do not look at me like that, Tabitha,” the dowager warned. “I wasn’t always like this. I was much like you when I was younger, but with dark hair and blue eyes. Suitors fell at my feet just to dance with me. Where are your dance partners?”
Tabitha took no notice of the woman’s scathing words, finding them without bite. “Perhaps I am not as beautiful as you were, My Lady.”
“So speaks the girl who has attracted every male’s gaze since she walked into the room. I noticed how everyone’s eyes turned to the entrance. I knew it was you even though I couldn’t see you from where I’m sitting.”
Tabitha knew the woman didn’t expect a thank you in return. The dowager had said it matter-of-factly, not intending to compliment.
The women eventually fell into easy conversation until Tabitha’s father’s arrival. The man immediately baulked when he saw who Tabitha and her mother sat beside but continued to draw closer, albeit unwillingly.
“Countess,” he said by way of greeting. “You’re looking well.”
The old woman raised her eyebrows. “Don’t you mean senile?”
The duke’s cheeks reddened. “No, not at all. Have you come alone?”
“My son and daughter-in-law are somewhere in the room,” the woman replied. “Do you have a glass for me?”
Tabitha’s father looked down at the three glasses in his hands, his face a mask of internal struggles. Finally, he handed one to the dowager and the others to Tabitha and her mother.
“How kind of you, Alfred,” the old woman remarked. “Where is yours?”
“I was just about to get one,” the duke answered, his voice strained. “Please excuse me.”
Tabitha’s poor father bowed to the woman and left them only to return moments later with a dashingly handsome man at his side. The tall, fair man looked at her and smiled, causing Tabitha to blush and look down.
“I see you’ve come out of your hole, Bazeley,” said the dowager.
Tabitha’s head jerked upward. Bazeley? The very same man her father had spoken about? Why, the marquess wasn’t ugly or old!
“Good evening, Lady Windbatten,” the man said, bowing before the old woman. “You look particularly lovely today.”
The dowager snorted. “My husband would say differently. He hates navy and would rather see me in pink. Awful colour.”
Everyone grew silent. The dowager’s husband had been dead for several years, and yet the woman spoke of him as though he were still alive. This was one of the reasons why many considered the woman to be senile.
“Lord Windbatten has wonderful taste,” said Tabitha, filling the awkward silence. “Pink looks wonderful against your dark hair. I cannot wear it as you can. Blue is more my colour.”
This evening, Tabitha wore a white silk dress with short sleeves and gold edging along the bodice, sleeves, and hemline. Her mother thought it was important to appear as young and vibrant as possible as all men seemed to prefer women with a more youthful appearance. White was supposed to achieve just that, although Tabitha would have selected a light blue dress or perhaps something in green.
Her father cleared his throat, gaining their attention. “Tabby, this is Leo Whittier, the Marquess of Bazeley. He has asked for the very first dance.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Browning,” the marquess said, bowing before her. “Your father is indeed right about asking for this dance. It would be an honour to be your first partner.”
Tabitha felt obliged to get to her feet, curtsying in turn. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, My Lord. I will add your name to my dance card,” she promised.
“You have made a poor soul a happy man, Lady Browning,” Lord Bazeley claimed. “I will return shortly for that dance.”
Tabitha’s father offered to walk the marquess back to wherever he had found the man, his eager form disappearing alongside Lord Bazeley into the group of people ahead. The marquess had to be an important man to have gained the attention of the duke, yet this was the first she had heard of him.
Tabitha had to admit that the man reeked of elegance and excellent manners and was attracting a fair bit of attention as well. She put down the admiring gazes to his fair hair and light blue eyes, a favourite combination for most.
“He cuts a striking figure, doesn’t he?” her mother commented, looking at her with a smile.
Tabitha suddenly became interested in her glass of wine, feeling her cheeks grow hot under her mother’s playful gaze. She had a feeling the duchess had noticed her keen interest in the marquess but would never outright say it.
“Lord Bazeley will be a favourite this Season,” Tabitha finally said. She glanced at the dowager, not surprised to see the woman asleep. “I expect she is dead to the world for another hour or so, Mama.”
“Or so,” the woman replied, her eyes sparkling. She knew Tabitha was avoiding discussing the marquess. “I’ll remain with her until Diana remembers she has a responsibility to her mother-in-law.”
Tabitha and her mother spoke quietly for some time, only pausing when the dowager gave a little snort of air or a soft snore. Tabitha was about to ask if she snored when music played announcing the first dance of the evening. Her belly fluttered as she sharply drew in breath. Lord Bazeley would appear any moment now and claim the right of her hand. As soon as she thought that, Tabitha’s mind started to spin with possibilities. Could Lord Bazeley be the man she was to marry?
He certainly fitted the physical description of a handsome man, and he was so polite. Her father evidently thought highly of him as well, which was promising. Perhaps it was too soon to know, so Tabitha decided to tuck her thoughts away until further into the Season.
Sure enough, Lord Bazeley appeared and swept her away amidst the admiring gazes of the guests. Tabitha heard a woman comment on how well she and Lord Bazeley suited, coaxing an unwanted blush out of her. Tabitha didn’t want to appear as though every compliment was reason to blush, or the marquess might think her too naïve.
“You look ravishing this evening, Lady Browning,” Lord Bazeley commented. “I daresay you’re the prettiest woman in this room!”
Tabitha smiled, hoping she looked gracious and not like a blushing fool. “Thank you, My Lord. That is kind of you to say.”
“Call me Leo,” he insisted. “I feel I shall see much more of you before the Season has ended.”
He had given her the use of his Christian name? Perhaps the marquess was interested in courting her! How did she feel about that? Lord Bazeley was handsome with excellent manners, which was as good a start as any for one’s first suitor. Suddenly shy, Tabitha lowered her eyes and nodded.
“It would be my honour to use your first name,” she said.
“That was so prettily said,” Leo replied. “It’s not so often that beauty, kindness, and respectability are seen in someone as young as you are. Your father mentioned you were nineteen.”
Tabitha beamed. She was making a great first impression! Her mother and father would be proud of her success.
“Yes ... Leo,” she said, hesitating briefly. “Would it be forward of me to ask your age?”
