Charming Mr. Blackmore: A Regency Romance, page 1
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
Epilogue
Also By Laura Beers
About the Author
Text copyright © 2022 by Laura Beers
Cover art copyright © 2022 by Laura Beers
Cover art by Blue Water Books
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, copied, or transmitted without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Chapter 1
England, 1787
Miss Isabel Drake never sought out trouble, but it always seemed to find her in the most inopportune places. She had left the crowded ballroom behind to seek out the quiet sanctuary of the library, only to find herself hiding behind a bookcase.
The owner of the library had a massive collection which required freestanding cases in addition to the shelves that lined the walls, and she had thought herself lucky to be behind one when the door opened. Now, however, the sounds of passionate kissing incensed her ears. She brought her hands up to cover them, wishing she hadn’t been hidden when the couple entered. This is not how she envisioned the evening would go. She couldn’t stay here forever, but she couldn’t make her presence known, not now. It was far too late. If she did, she would risk ruining her reputation and theirs.
Her eyes strayed towards the nearby French doors leading into the garden. Dare she try to escape? It was evident that the couple was in their own world, but would they fail to notice someone passing through? A moan escaped the woman’s lips, and Isabel knew she had no choice. She refused to remain here listening to their scandalous behavior.
Isabel reached for the drapes of the window between her and the doors, hoping what she was about to do wouldn’t expose her position. She slowly moved under it until she was covered, then slid herself and the drapes until she was in front of the doors. She paused as she lowered her hand. The couple didn’t appear to notice what she had done. She could still hear them, actively engaged in their own fervent pursuit. She turned around to face the door and unlocked it, then slowly opened it.
Once the door was ajar far enough for her wide skirts to fit through, she slipped out, carefully releasing the drapes to return to their place without too much movement. She quietly closed the door, stepped behind some bushes in the garden bed, and let out a sigh of relief that she had made it out undetected.
As she walked through the garden bed toward a path that didn’t pass by the library, the large skirts of her pink silk dress caught on a bush, and she heard the terrifying sound of ripping. She glanced behind her and saw a part of her skirt was dragging on the ground. Good heavens, what was she going to do now? If she left the safety of the garden bed, then someone was bound to notice her tattered dress, and that would cause a scandal.
She sighed. What an impossible situation she found herself in. Surely this night could not get any worse.
Feeling sorry for herself, she noticed a couple strolling along the path. The moonlight hit the man’s face, and she immediately recognized him as Mr. Anthony Blackmore. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with kind green eyes and a square jaw. His dark brown hair was tied at the base of his neck.
She and Anthony had been friends since childhood, when their parents hosted each other’s families for house parties and hunts. Isabel knew that Anthony would help her, but first she had to get his attention. How was she to do that without revealing her identity to his companion? This was a conundrum, but she had to quickly form a plan or risk having Anthony walk past her.
An idea started to form, but she knew that it wasn’t her brightest. She crouched down next to a large bush and waited for Anthony to approach her. Once he was a few feet away, she deepened her voice and said, “Mr. Blackmore.”
Anthony stopped on the path and turned towards her. “Who’s there?” he asked, his eyes searching the garden bed.
She leaned closer to the thick bush, hoping the cover of darkness was upon her. “It is…” her voice hesitated, “Mr. Bush.” She stifled the groan on her lips. Could she have not thought of a better name?
“Mr. Bush?” Anthony asked, skeptically. “I’m afraid I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“Yes, you do,” she replied. She knew that she sounded foolish, but she hadn’t fully thought out this part of the plan.
Anthony had a baffled look on his face as he positioned himself in front of his companion, who she now recognized as Lady Jemima. “Why don’t you come out of the shadows, and we can speak face to face?” he asked.
“It would be best if we speak in the garden bed.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I need to speak to you about an urgent matter,” she said.
Anthony frowned. “What could be so urgent that we couldn’t speak out in the open?”
Isabel hadn’t remembered Anthony being this stubborn. It was quite infuriating, and it was entirely inconvenient at the moment. “It is about your dog, Abbott.”
Taking a step forward, Anthony asked, “How do you know my dog’s name?” His voice took on an accusatory tone.
“I know a lot about you.” She winced. Why had she said such a thing? If she wasn’t careful, she would scare him off, and she couldn’t risk that.
“Pray tell, how exactly do you know me?”
She bit her lower lip as she attempted to come up with a believable lie. “From White’s,” she said. “We… uh… had a few glasses of port.”
“You don’t sound like someone I know.”
“That is because I have a cold.” She forced a cough. “It is a bad cold.”
Drat. Had she truly just said that? He must think she was a simpleton.
Indecision crossed Anthony’s face, and she worried that he was going to refuse her request. Not that she would blame him. She hadn’t been very convincing.
To her surprise, he turned towards Lady Jemima and asked, “I know it’s unbelievably rude not to escort you there, but would you mind if I met you back inside?”
The blonde-haired beauty nodded. “Do not be long, Mr. Blackmore,” she practically purred. “I am looking forward to our dance.”
Neither of them spoke as Lady Jemima sashayed off. Once she disappeared from their view, Anthony crossed his arms over his chest. “Now, what is this about?” he demanded.
“Are you alone?” she asked.
Anthony glanced over his shoulder before confirming, “I am.”
Isabel rose slowly, making herself known. “Hello, Anthony.”
Surprise flitted over his face, then disbelief. “Isabel?” he asked, lowering his voice. “What in the blazes are you about?”
She waved him closer. “I need to speak to you privately.”
Without the slightest hesitation, Anthony stepped in the garden bed and approached her. “What is so important that you are risking both of our reputations?”
“I need your help.”
Anthony reached for her arm and gently led her to a more secluded location. “What is wrong?” he asked, concern in his voice.
“I ripped my dress, and I need to get to my coach undetected.”
His eyes roamed over the front of her gown. “It doesn’t appear ripped.”
“It is in the back,” she revealed as she turned to the side to show him her predicament.
“How did you rip it?”
Reluctantly, she admitted, “I had to escape into the gardens from the library.”
Anthony stared at her as if he couldn’t quite believe what she was telling him. “Why did you have to do that?”
“The ballroom was entirely too stuffy, and I decided that I needed a break from all the excitement,” she said. “I went in search of the library and selected a book to read.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you didn’t exit the library like a sane person.”
She pressed her lips together, then shared, “I heard someone approaching, and I panicked. I didn’t want to be caught alone, so I hid behind the shelves.”
“You hid?”
“Yes, and I remained there until…” Her voice trailed off.
He looked expectantly at her. “Until what?”
“They started kissing,” she said, “and I didn’t dare interrupt them. The sound was awful, and I knew the only way I could escape was by sneaking out.”
“Naturally,” Anthony mocked.
Placing a hand on her hip, she asked, “What would you have done?”
“I would have never stayed hidden in the first place.”
“That is because you are a man.”
“This has nothing to do with gender.”
“It does,” she pressed. “You know a woman can’t risk any questionable behavior or else her reputation will be affected.”
Anthony let out a sigh. “I am not going to argue with you, Isabel. We need to find a way for you to return to your coach undetected.”
“How do you propose we do that?”
“I don’t rightly know.” He paused. “Where is your companion, Mrs. Doddrey?”
Isabel shrugged. “I suppose where I last left her.”
“Which is?”
“In the corner of the ballroom,” she replied. “She fell asleep, despite all the noise. I thought surely the orchestra would wake her, but it didn’t.”
Anthony groaned. “If you hadn’t left your companion, then none of this would have happened.”
“You might be right about that.”
“Might be?”
“Can we discuss this later?” she asked. “The longer we are here alone, the more likely someone might happen upon us.”
Glancing towards the veranda, Anthony said, “Stay here, and I will go see if I can wake Mrs. Doddrey.”
“You might not be able to rouse her. She is a heavy sleeper.”
“Clearly, but we will need her assistance.” He gave her a pointed look. “Wait here.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied.
Anthony muttered something incoherent under his breath as he headed towards the veranda. She watched as he disappeared from her view, and she glanced up at the night sky. She admired the twinkling lights high in the night sky and looked for a constellation.
It wasn’t long before Anthony appeared back at her side. “You were right,” he said. “For a moment, I feared that Mrs. Doddrey was dead, but then she let out a loud snore.”
Isabel giggled. “Were you able to wake her?”
“No, but I did come up with another solution,” he replied. “I paid a servant to escort you to your coach undetected. He will make use of the servant’s passageways.”
Before he finished his words, a door opened, shining light from the side of the townhouse. A liveried footman stood there, motioning towards her.
“Will you not come with me?” she asked.
Anthony placed his hand on her shoulder. “I have a much more difficult task.”
“Which is?”
“I have to wake up Mrs. Doddrey and escort her to your coach.”
A smile came to her lips. “I wish you luck.”
“Take care, Isabel,” he said. “And I should note that you are not very convincing as a gentleman.”
“I was able to convince you to help me, wasn’t I?”
Anthony chuckled. “Go along, Mr. Bush,” he teased. “I have no doubt that our paths will cross soon enough.”
As Anthony turned to leave, she stopped him by saying, “Thank you.”
He smiled the same lazy smile that she remembered from their youth. “You’re welcome, Isabel,” he said softly.
With a final glance at him, she headed towards the safety of the servant’s entrance, grateful for a friend such as him.
Anthony knew that he had his work cut out for him as he walked towards the ballroom. How in the blazes did a companion fall asleep during a boisterous ball?
As he stepped inside of the crowded ballroom, his friend, Lord Heatherton, broke through the crowd. “Where have you been?”
“I’m afraid something has come up.”
Heatherton grinned. “What on earth could be more important than dancing the next set with Lady Jemima?”
“She will have to wait.”
“Lady Jemima waits for no man,” Heatherton said.
“Why don’t you send my apologies and dance with her yourself?”
Heatherton eyed him curiously. “What is wrong?”
“Nothing that I can’t fix.”
“What can I do to help?”
Turning to face him, Anthony asked, “Have you ever woken up an eighty-year-old woman before?”
“I have not.”
“Well, you are about to.”
Anthony brushed past him and headed towards the rear of the room. Mrs. Doddrey was sitting on a chair, the back of her head resting on the wall and her mouth open. How she was sleeping while the orchestra was playing was beyond him.
“Why do you need to wake her up?” Heatherton asked.
“What I am about to tell you must stay between us,” Anthony said, keeping his voice low.
“You have my word.”
Anthony stepped closer and shared, “The back of Miss Drake’s dress ripped while she was walking through the gardens.”
“That’s unfortunate. How did you become involved?”
Anthony huffed. “It’s what I get for being a childhood friend,” he replied. “I’ve paid a footman to escort her to the coach, but I need to get her companion there without anyone growing suspicious.”
“Ah, I see,” Heatherton said.
Anthony walked over to the aged companion and crouched down next to her. “Mrs. Doddrey,” he said, hoping she would wake up without him touching her. But she didn’t stir. He touched her shoulder, shaking her very slightly. Nothing.
“Botheration,” he muttered. What was he to do now?
Heatherton came to stand next to him. “Give her a slight push.”
“I don’t want to startle the poor woman by shaking her any harder than I have to,” he said. “She might have a fit or something.”
“Perhaps she already did,” Heatherton suggested.
“No, she is just sleeping.” A snore escaped Mrs. Doddrey’s mouth, proving his point.
“Let me try,” Heatherton said.
Anthony rose and took a step back. “Be my guest.”
Heatherton placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a shove, causing her to cry out as she tumbled unceremoniously out of her chair.
Mrs. Doddrey looked up at them with anger in her eyes. “Dear heavens, why would you do such a thing?” she asked. “I am just an old woman.”
Anthony rushed forward to assist her back onto her chair. “I do apologize for my friend, but we were just trying to wake you up.”
“I wasn’t asleep,” Mrs. Doddrey asserted.
“But you were,” Anthony pressed.
Mrs. Doddrey’s back stiffened. “Young man, I think I would know if I was asleep,” she said, haughtily.
“Regardless, I have come to get you on Miss Drake’s behalf.”
Mrs. Doddrey’s eyes left his and began to roam the room. “Well, where is she?” she demanded.
“In the coach, waiting for you.”
“I think not,” Mrs. Doddrey remarked. “She has enough good sense not to leave the ball unattended.”
Anthony glanced over his shoulder to ensure that his next words were not overheard. “Miss Drake ripped the back of her dress in the gardens, and a footman escorted her to the coach so she would not be seen,” he revealed.
Mrs. Doddrey pursed her thin lips together. “May I ask what you were doing with Miss Drake in the gardens?”
“I was doing nothing with her, if that is what you are implying,” he asserted. “I was walking down a path when she caught my attention and asked for my assistance.”
“How fortunate you were there,” Mrs. Doddrey said, rising. “If you will excuse me, I need to see to my charge.”
“Would you care for me to escort you to the coach?” Anthony asked.
With a critical glance, Mrs. Doddrey stated, “I think you have done enough this evening, Mr. Blackmore.”
As Mrs. Doddrey walked off, Heatherton came to stand next to him. “She is an ornery woman.”
“That she is,” Anthony agreed. “Though being pushed out of her seat surely didn’t help matters.”
Heatherton clasped his hands together. “Now that is taken care of, you should go claim your dance with Lady Jemima.”
“What is the urgency?”
“I was hoping to be introduced to her cousin, Miss Wright.”
“I should have suspected you had an ulterior motive.”
Heatherton grinned. “Come along, then.”
They started making their way across the ballroom to where Lady Jemima stood with her mother, Lady Worton, and Miss Wright. The further they walked into the room, the stuffier it became, and he had an innate desire to flee the room. He was beginning to see why Isabel went looking for the library. But leaving was not an option for him; not yet, anyway.
He came to a stop in front of Lady Jemima and tipped his head. “I do apologize for the delay, my lady.”
