A Gentleman of Worth, page 1
By
A Gentleman of Worth
By L.L. Diamond
Published by L.L. Diamond
Copyright ©2023 L.L. Diamond
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted, or distributed by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed and online reviews without the express written consent of the author. The characters portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Cover and internal design © 2023 L.L. Diamond
Cover design by L.L. Diamond/Diamondback Covers
Cover photos: Romantic Regency couple together against a grey studio backdrop by Kathy SG, & View of a Beautiful Old English Mansion House and Garden Grounds Built Circa 1730 by 1000 Words. courtesy of Shutterstock
ISBN-13: 978-1-960057-01-3
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LLDiamond
Instagram: @l.l.diamond
Twitter: @LLDiamond2
Blog: http://lldiamondwrites.com/
Austen Variations: http://austenvariations.com/
Other works by L.L. Diamond include:
Rain and Retribution
A Matter of Chance
An Unwavering Trust
The Earl’s Conquest
Particular Intentions
Particular Attachments
Unwrapping Mr. Darcy
It’s Always Been You
It’s Always Been Us
It’s Always Been You and Me
He’s Always Been the One
Undoing
Confined with Mr. Darcy
Agony and Hope
His Perfect Gift
That Perfect Someone
The Peculiarity of Mr. Darcy’s Mirror
An Endeavour to be Worthy
A Gentleman of Worth
Table of Contents
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
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Author’s works:
Chapter 1
Late February 1812
The chandeliers glittered in the warm glow of candlelight while people milled about the grand ballroom awaiting the first dance. The Marquess of Ormonde’s annual fete was widely considered the first important ball of the Season, so such an occasion was not to be missed, which explained the mad crush of people all but pressed against her despite the generous size of the ballroom.
The ladies in their best silk gowns and gentleman all turned out in as fine a manner as Beau Brummel would soon line up for the first set, and the air of the room vibrated with what could only be anticipation. The musicians tuned their instruments while those assembled murmured and gradually crowded closer and closer to the centre of the ballroom in preparation for the anticipated announcement.
Amelia moved to one side to allow a gentleman to pass but they still collided with one another.
“Pardon me,” she said with a start.
“I hope you have not given away my set,” said a familiar voice at her shoulder.
She smiled while she continued to watch the crowd in front of her. “No, I would not break my word, but two sets? You do realise tongues will wag, sir.” Sir Anthony had on occasion danced the first with her, but he also danced the first with other ladies as well, so no one would think twice about him standing up with her for that particular set alone, but the supper set? The handsome baronet had never requested two sets before.
“I am unconcerned. Since when do you care what the gossips say about you?” He was correct. She never bothered with the rumours and tittle tattle that abounded, but unlike other ladies, she had been careful not to cause too much speculation with any gentleman she had no interest in marrying, or who would have no interest in her for that matter.
When the dance was announced, he offered her his arm. “Shall we?”
As she allowed him to lead her to the line, she tilted her head. “You mistake my meaning, sir. Eventually, you must take a wife. If we are linked in any manner other than friendship, it may not be of aid when you meet the lady you wish to pursue.”
One side of his lips curved as he pivoted to stand facing her. The music began and they honoured their partner. They took the first steps of the pattern and turned, joining hands side by side. “I had hoped I had made myself clearer with my actions, but I suppose I must make myself doubly so with my words.”
She frowned. “I do not understand.”
“I have decided upon the lady I wish to court and have called upon her for a fortnight.”
Her head whipped around to face him. He had? When had this occurred? They were friends. Why would he not tell her? “But you have said nothing. Who is this lady? Do I know her?” Was this lady worthy of such a kind and thoughtful gentleman as Sir Anthony?
“You know her quite well.” She could have screamed when the pattern of the dance forced her to step out and follow the other ladies to the back of the line. At least they would be reunited in a moment, and she could enquire further. Her pulse quickened when they took their places and joined hands once again. “Well? Are you to keep me in suspense? Who is she?”
He chuckled and leaned a bit closer to her. “It is you, you silly goose.”
She almost tripped over her own foot instead of sinking it as the dance required, and her heart plummeted into her stomach. Her? He wanted to court her? No, there must be some mistake! They had danced and talked and formed a friendship over the last four Seasons. If he had ever held some interest in her, he would have expressed it by now, would he not?
“Will you not say something?” he asked before turning out with the pattern again.
As she followed the ladies to the back of the line once more, she shook her head. This was absurd! How was she to dance and have this conversation? The starting and stopping and starting and stopping was maddening, and they had only been forced to do so twice. When she reached the back of the line, instead of taking Sir Anthony’s hand, she strode for the doors without delay. She would not have this conversation with all and sundry bearing witness. Why would he speak so—all but declare himself—at a ball?
Upon reaching the hall, she collided shoulders with a finely dressed lady before she entered a drawing room with access to the gardens and hastened through. Once out of doors, her hands crossed over her chest to ward off the chill of the late February evening. The iciness of the air prickling her skin was good. She closed her eyes and breathed as evenly as possible.
When Sir Anthony first requested a set of her after her coming out, she had become smitten with the man with little effort on his part. His handsome countenance and endearing dimples had inhabited her dreams for the entire Season along with his devilishly devastating low voice requesting to call, asking if he could court her—marry her. She had fallen hopelessly in love with him. When none of those long held wishes came to fruition, she had departed with her family to Richmond Castle for the summer while he had departed to Dereham, his home in Nottinghamshire. She had mended her broken heart and had learnt to call him her friend, to cease that yearning and be content with their polite discourse. What other choice had she had?
“’Tis too cold to be out without a coat.” His warm hands rested her cloak over her shoulders. “I have given you a shock. Forgive me. I had hoped my intentions would be evident after joining you for church the past two Sundays and calling as well, but I suppose your grandparents and Hatton were the only people to notice.”
“My grandparents know, Nicholas knows, and I do not?” Lord, but that catch in her throat! Why could she not appear stronger than she was in truth?
“Your grandfather, as well as all of London, was aware of the state of Dereham when my father died. Well, they were somewhat aware, I suppose. Before I made any attempt at making my intentions obvious, I wanted to assure Lord Richmond of my ability to provide for you should you see fit to accept my suit. The responsibility to safeguard your future is in his hands, and he has every right to those assurances of your well-being in my care. I said naught to your brother, so I must assume he spoke to your grandfather or read what I assume has been evident upon my countenance for some time.”
“What would you assume is evident?”
“My admiration of you.” He spoke in a straightforward manner as he had made his way to her side, holding her gaze with an intensity she could not withstand.
She closed her eyes and held up her hand, stepping away from him then spinning on her heel to face him. He had been so close to her shoulder that some of his warmth permeated her cloak, making her require a modicum of distance. “’Tis too much. You have made it abundantly clear since my first season that we were no more than friends.”
“I have, but not because I held no feelings for you, but because I had no right to offer you more. You were also youn
“When Hatton introduced us, I remember thinking you were very pretty, and as we danced, I was impressed you could manage a decent discourse on a topic other than the latest fashion. Meanwhile, you had just come out. You thought the Season was new and exciting, and you spoke often of the gentlemen who would come to call. Your eyes would brighten and sometimes you would giggle. I was enchanted and thought that by twenty, you would make an excellent prospect for a wife. I was correct, yet I was still not at liberty to speak from my heart. Dereham was still in debt—not as great a sum to be sure, but enough.”
“You could have. You could have spoken of your feelings. What if I had been willing to wait for you?” She would have, particularly during that first Season.
He sighed and shoved his hands into the pockets of his great coat. “How would that have been fair? You deserved a gentleman who was prepared to support a wife, and I was paying my father’s debts and correcting his neglects of the estate. Since our first meeting, you have grown more beautiful than I could have imagined. While I thought you pretty in the beginning, you are now stunning. Most of your giggles have been replaced with more mature smiles and witty banter and laughs. Even with my early admiration, I underestimated the beautiful woman you would become.”
Amelia squeezed her eyes closed at the burning of tears. She would not cry! She would not, even if he had just uttered every lovely thing her heart would have gobbled up when she was seventeen. “I need to be alone.”
“My conscience would not allow me to leave you here without protection. I could fetch your brother.”
“No! Good Lord, he will never stop tormenting me with his teasing if he learns of this.” She turned, stepped down into the grass, and walked over to a small hedge near the edge.
“You will ruin your slippers,” he called from the terrace.
“I do not care. I require a moment to think.” But how was she supposed to do so with him watching her as he was? He was right not to leave her without protection, though they should not be alone as they were either.
A twig snapped, and she started. What was that? She peered around the edge of the bushes and gasped at the couple shielded behind the hedge of Yew. “Lizzy? Fitzwilliam? What are you doing?” The words were hissed while she clutched her cloak around her as though it was a shield, a heaviness resting in the pit of her stomach.
“I am so sorry,” said her cousin, Lizzy, with wide eyes. “We escaped for no more than a moment to steal a kiss. We had not expected anyone to venture into the garden with the cold weather.”
“Did you hear…?” How was she to ask without explanation of what they would have heard?
Lizzy bit her lip as she had done so many times before. “I am afraid it was unavoidable, dearest.”
“For what it is worth, we shall not tell anyone, especially not Hatton,” said Fitzwilliam. “And if your grandfather were to ask, you were, for all intents and purposes, chaperoned.”
She propped her hands on her hips. “Only you would consider that.”
“Who are you speaking to?” Sir Anthony hastened from the terrace, his complexion paling when he saw Lizzy and Fitzwilliam. “I had thought we were alone.”
While she grabbed her husband’s hand, Lizzy waved the other before her. “Forget our presence. We shall stand over there and speak of some nonsense, so we do not overhear. You continue discussing whatever you were…well, discussing.” She dragged Fitzwilliam past them and up to the terrace where they stood talking and looking everywhere but at her and Sir Anthony. This was mortifying!
Amelia pressed her palm to her forehead. “This is horrifying.”
“I would imagine the Darcys are not without some embarrassment. They had not intended to be caught out as they were either.”
“They never do,” said Amelia with a shake of her head. “Miss Darcy has found them more than once since just before they were engaged. This is the first I have caught them thus, but I cannot find fault with them for it. They are in love and fortunate to have married for such great depth of feeling.”
“Could you not do the same? Am I without hope of you returning my affections?”
She met his gaze, and her heart tugged in his direction. Botheration! Had she not closed that door and sealed it shut three years ago? “I do not know. You shocked me with your declaration. I confess we are good friends, and I care for you, but whether those feelings could become of a romantic nature, I cannot say. I had not even realised you were courting me.”
“A pathetic beginning indeed.” He stepped forward as though about to take her hands but paused. “Then allow me to call. Allow me to court you and win your heart.”
“You are quite certain of yourself.”
“I do not believe we could have such a friendship, such an intimacy between us, without some affection on both sides. You also have not wed these past four years, and not for a lack of suitors. A number of gentlemen called your first Season, and during the following Seasons, a gentleman or two called, but the associations led nowhere. You always found some fault: he was too short, he needed to reconsider his sideburns, you could never marry a man who wore a silver topcoat—”
For Heaven’s sakes! “Very well. You need not continue, though I maintain that Lord Montague is too much of a dandy. I could never wed someone who spends more time preparing for a ball than I do.”
He took her hand, his thumb caressing her knuckles. “By your standard then, we should be well-suited.”
Where his thumb brushed, her traitorous flesh tingled and threatened to travel up her arm. How was that possible through their gloves? Perhaps she was cold. Yes, that was it! She was feeling the chill of the weather and that sensation had nothing to do with his touch. He lifted her hand, and his lips puckered, making her snatch her hand away. “I am suddenly fatigued. I believe I should like to go home.” She turned on her heel and started back to the terrace with him trailing behind.
“Amelia, wait.”
She made an abrupt turn. “I beg your pardon.”
He flinched and stepped back. “Forgive me, Miss Montford.”
Her hands clutched her cloak around her as she neared Lizzy and Fitzwilliam. “Do you know where Grandpapa is? I should like to go home.”
“Are you well?” asked Lizzy with her eyebrows drawn down a little.
“Yes, merely tired.”
Fitzwilliam glanced at Sir Anthony. “We shall be pleased to see you home. I shall speak to Lord Richmond then return.”
“I thank you.” She took in a shuddering breath. She would not cry!
“May I call upon you on the morrow to ensure you are well?” Sir Anthony’s voice was low.
“Yes, you may. I hope you will forgive me for abandoning you for the supper set.”
He shook his head with an almost smile. “Do not fret over that. Without you, I have no reason to stay. Once you have departed, I shall return home.”
“You would leave because of me?” As far as she was aware, he had never done so before.
His head turned in the direction of the ballroom for a second before his gaze returned to hers. “Why would I dance and converse with other ladies when I only wish to do so with you? It is hardly fair to the lady in my company. Do you not agree?”
“I had not considered it.” Her stare remained trained on the stone floor. She could not hold his steady and penetrating gaze.
“Amelia, are you well?”
Her shoulders sagged as her grandmother hurried across the terrace with Fitzwilliam behind her. “Yes, Grandmamma. I am well.”
Her grandmother glanced between her and Sir Anthony. “Fitzwilliam, are you certain you are not put out by taking Amelia to Richmond Place? I do not mind returning with her, which would allow you and Lizzybeth to remain.”
“I am not inconvenienced, Lady Richmond. You should know by now that I would prefer to spend the evening at home to a ball—and more so when the ball is a crush. I had almost sent my regrets for this one.”
“Yes, I did persuade you to make an appearance, though I do not believe I ever saw you in the ballroom.” Her grandmother’s head tilted ever so slightly.
Fitzwilliam coughed and Lizzy blushed crimson.
“Very well, do what you will, but I do hope the two of you will join us for at least one event in the next fortnight, without making a circuit of the gardens first.” Amelia pressed her lips together. Her grandmother knew all. They had never been able to get away with much as children, or even now, it seemed.
