A Valentine's Affair Read online

  A Valentine’s Affair

  A Regency Romance Book

  By Eliza Dawkins

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One ~ The Hunt for A Husband

  Chapter Two ~ Letter from the Grave

  Chapter Three ~ The Dinner

  Chapter Four ~ An Adventure in Riding

  Chapter Five ~ Passion and Heartache

  Chapter Six ~ Sent to London

  Chapter Seven ~ Home Sweet Home

  Chapter Eight ~ Forgotten Child

  Chapter Nine ~ Finally Found

  Chapter Ten ~ Freedom and Joy

  Epilogue

  About the Author ~ Eliza Dawkins

  The Romance Continues…

  Excerpt ~ The Earl’s Governess

  Prologue

  ‘Helena! Do not make that jump! You are on a new horse riding side-saddle. You heard what the horse master told you; that horse is not trained for jumping.’

  An eleven-year-old, little Lady Helena Delaport sat atop her new mount, determination blazing from her eyes. Against her mother, The Duchess of Sunderland’s warning, the little lady guided her horse behind the starting line of the jumping course. Sweeping the loose short, flaxen curls from her eyes, Lady Helena whispered words to the anxious steed beneath her.

  ‘HELENA! LISTEN TO ME, NOW!’ The Duchess screamed her commands with great fear, desperately trying to reason with her young daughter. Every day was a challenge trying to convince the little girl to follow instructions with which she did not agree.

  ‘I’ll be fine, Mummy.’ Lady Helena acknowledged her mother with a wave of her hand before digging her heels into the belly of the horse.

  ‘Lavinia! Why are you screaming?’ The Duke of Sunderland frantically ran to his wife’s side.

  ‘It’s Helena! Edwin, she’s jumping on that new horse. She’s determined they can clear it. She will not listen to me.’

  Immediately, the Duke raced to the fence line, but his efforts were, unfortunately, in vain.

  ‘MUMMY!!!’

  ‘NOOOOO!!! HELENA!!’

  ‘HELENA!!’ Edwin climbed the fence, sprinting straight to his daughter’s crumpled body on the ground.

  ~~~

  Mellicent Darby sat behind her large office desk as a recently poured cup of tea waited for her to partake. Her office stray endearingly called ‘Cat’ jumped in through her open window and quickly hopped to her feet, weaving in and out, ‘meowing’ non-stop.

  ‘Oh, Cat. You pesky little rascal. Come along then.’ Mellicent scooted back from her desk, allowing Cat to jump up onto her lap. There he curled up, instantly purring as she carelessly petted his side.

  ‘All right now, let’s see here…’ She shuffled through her papers until landing upon a unique envelope which caught her eye.

  ‘Oh splendid! This is bound to be a yummy dish.’

  Mellicent quickly opened the crème-coloured embellished envelope and pulled out the Valentine adorned parchment. The letter was from a correspondent for her weekly advice column, “Aunt Ellie’s Advice for Ladies.” Her column, which usually featured anywhere from recipes to household remedies to fashion advice, was published every Friday in the Chipping Weekly Observer newspaper.

  A writer, a matchmaker, and a lady of society who recently renewed her love for her work, Mellicent became utterly thrilled to find a letter from a spinster, like herself. The woman said she had fallen in love with the wrong man and asked if ‘Aunt Ellie' could help.

  The writer smiled at Cat.

  ‘Oh, yes! Quite yummy indeed.’

  Chapter One ~ The Hunt for A Husband

  The days have come where now I am being ordered about by a silly, little boy, Helena thought to herself. A boy who is now the heir to our family estate and is as spoiled as they come having such knowledge.

  It was only an hour ago Helena was out riding, desperate to clear her head of the family circumstances recently thrown upon her shoulders.

  Life was difficult the past six months at Delaport Manor ever since the carriage accident which took the lives of her parents, the Duke and Duchess of Sunderland. The loss was felt deeply by their two daughters, Lady Elizabeth Kendall, the Marchioness of Manchester, and Lady Helena, as well as by their young son, His Grace Charles Delaport, the heir apparent and new Duke of Sunderland.

  Charles was much different from his late father. For starters, he was only twelve-years-old and lacked many qualities a good Duke should possess. He was selfish and could be cruel to those around him; qualities the late Duke of Sunderland was confident young Charles would outgrow.

  The new Duke of Sunderland, who, much to his frustration, was still called Charles by his older sisters and brother-in-law, Abraham Kendall, the Marquess of Manchester, was also not as progressive as his late father. It was a fact which made his spinster sister, Helena, ill each time she was reminded of it; and she was reminded of it every day.

  ~~~

  The shotgun in her hand made a loud noise as the bullet left the barrel; her hand holding onto the shotgun firmly, her fingers curled around it and not a flinch from a single muscle or tendon with the pull of the trigger. Her right hand was trained well to withstand the recoil, and her eyes were naturally talented for aim and precision. The limp, small body fell to the ground from high above. Helena smiled to herself.

  And another one, right on target! I made five today, she thought triumphantly.

  The young man accompanying her hurriedly ran over to where the dead pheasant landed, picking it up to carry back to Lady Helena. She liked seeing what she hunted; it gave her a sense of achievement. The servant brought it to her, lifting it in the air with his arm so she could see it properly while mounted on her horse.

  ‘Ah, what a fine duck this one is! It was fast too, judging by the size of it and how much focus was needed. Did you know, Matthew, those small birds tend to fly faster because of their little bodies not weighing them down? Is it not interesting to know? Not that this bird is small,’ Lady Helena mentioned to Matthew while studying the glorious creature she managed to shoot down. Matthew was the picker-up who always accompanied her while hunting; his only duties were to chaperone her as well as gather the birds she shot.

  ‘Yes, Lady Helena. That is quite interesting. Where did you learn such knowledge?’ Matthew asked with curiosity as he hooked the duck, along with the other various birds Lady Helena shot, on to his horse, making the effort much more comfortable to carry back home.

  ‘Oh, I read it in a book somewhere from Papaw’s old library,’ she replied smiling at the thought of the library; her favourite place to be if not in her room lost in a book or her own journaled thoughts.

  ‘I see, my lady,’ young Matthew, who was barely sixteen, replied in amazement.

  ‘You can learn about the entire world simply by reading a few pages from a fascinating book, Matthew. It is as though one can travel without the vessels of ships or backs of horses and be able to envision a whole other country, a whole other life, sometimes completely opposite of ours,’ Lady Helena told him when she saw the look of amazement on his face.

  She peered up towards the sky, taking a deep breath as she closed her eyes, trying to put the mercilessly revolving thoughts in her head to ease. Lady Helena hungered to lessen the discomfort of the heavy burden which always found its heavy place upon on her chest.

  ‘We should be heading back now. It is getting late,’ she said, breaking out of her reverie.

  With the click of her heels, she turned her horse around facing back home, with Matthew following her on his steed.

  Hunting was not a sport women involved themselves in; not only was it uncommon but it was also moderately frowned upon as most men found the idea absurd. This, howev
er, never stopped Helena from indulging in the past-time. Once she set out to do something, she did it within reasonable limits, and no one knew this better than her older sister, Elizabeth.

  Once Lady Helena reached near the front entrance to Delaport Manor, Matthew offered her a hand, helping her dismount her horse.

  ‘Take today’s prizes to the kitchen Matthew; see if Mrs. Drake can do anything with them for tonight’s dinner,’ Lady Helena instructed Matthew, evidently proud of her hunt.

  ‘Yes, my lady,’ he replied, nodding his head before he left with both horses in hand.

  As Helena climbed the steps to the front door of the manor, Silas, the manor’s footman, opened the door and her sister Elizabeth and young brother Charles exited, meeting Helena unexpectedly.

  ‘Ah! Helena! Where were you?’ Elizabeth asked while coming to the answer herself after seeing the hunting attire.

  ‘I was out for a ride and a hunt,’ Helena replied short, knowing her older sister disapproved of the hobby.

  ‘How many times have I asked you not to?’ Elizabeth pressed, her tone patient, yet far from approving.

  ‘Elizabeth, it is quite all right! I only go sometimes; it is nothing to bother about,' Helena replied in a dismissive tone, knowing her sister made a more significant issue about it every time than what was needed.

  ‘We will talk about this later. I am taking Charles to see Reverend Sedgewick for weekly prayers,’ Elizabeth, being the oldest, was the most motherly towards the new Duke. She seemed to be the only one who could handle the young Duke. ‘I was hoping I would bump into you and remind you that Lady Mellicent Darby and Lord Robert Kendall will be joining us for dinner tonight here at Delaport Manor,’ Elizabeth said, changing the topic to what she actually wanted to tell her stubborn younger sister.

  ‘Lord Robert Kendall? Is he not the one who was recently widowed? Some story about his wife running off and leaving him?’ Helena asked, trying to recall him.

  ‘Yes, Helena. Goodness, why must you be so brash? We must keep these comments to ourselves so as not to be rude with words slipping out in his presence.’ Elizabeth widened her emerald eyes, shifting them down in Charles’ direction.

  But, as usual, the young Grace couldn’t bother paying attention to the conversation and was busy kicking his feet, waiting for his sisters to finish talking so they could be on their way.

  Helena pulled her riding cap from her head, ‘Honestly, Lizzy, you worry about the wrong issues and focus less on what truly needs your attention in this house.’

  ‘Don’t forget, Lord Robert is Abraham’s younger brother. You met him at our wedding three years ago. Remember?’ Elizabeth was adamant Helena not embarrass her in front of her High Society friends.

  ‘Yes, I remember. And yes, I will be there. It would be rude if I was not, seeing how the dinner is to be held in my home.' Helena said sighing, not very eager about attending the dinner.

  ‘It's not your home, Helena. It's my house! I inherited it when Papaw died.' Charles surprisingly piped up into his sisters' conversation. Helena only glared intensely with agitation at her brother.

  ‘Hush now, Charles. Those are not nice words to say.’ Elizabeth turned her attention back to Helena. ‘I am glad to hear you will be at supper tonight. I will see you then,’ Elizabeth said, smiling at her.

  Helena forced a smile back.

  The twelve-year-old Duke’s attention diverted to Helena’s riding gear, which he was oblivious to earlier.

  ‘Hunting?! Women should be aware of their place! Hunting is no sport for women! Undoubtedly, there is a reason men hunt and women should not,’ the Duke rudely and bluntly barked his beliefs at Helena.

  Helena stared at him in utter annoyance.

  ‘Is this how you should be speaking to your elders? Where are your manners, Charles? Children should know their place and not speak on matters which do not concern them,’ Helena said immediately, trying to stay calm, her voice shaking with anger and sadness.

  Charles disgruntled his face, knowing he could not say more as Elizabeth yanked his arm, eyeing him to keep his mouth closed and not let out another word.

  ‘We should be off now! Charles is clearly very tired. Come on, let us be on our way!’ Elizabeth quickly ushered him into the waiting carriage in front of them.

  She looked back at her sister and mouthed an ‘I am sorry,' her facial expression evidently showing her genuine apology and shame, as she too stepped into the carriage and Silas the footman closed the door behind her.

  Helena stood there, watching the horse and carriage leave the pathway to exit Delaport Manor.

  How dare he have the audacity to talk to me as if he bore the right to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do? Helena thought to herself.

  Hot tears began welling up in the corner of her eyes, but she fought their fall. She entered the house, blurry with anger.

  ‘Lady Helena, welcome back from your hu…’ Honora Wynn, Helena’s relatively young lady’s maid greeted her as she entered the house but did not complete her sentence once she saw her lady’s face.

  Helena avoided meeting eyes with her and stormed off straight to her room. Honora followed after her, knowing someone said some horrible words to hurt her feelings, as this was how Lady Helena would behave afterward.

  Helena was struggling to get out of her hunting clothes, focusing on the words from Charles’ mouth, still ringing in her ears. Honora walked into the room to find Helena standing in the middle of her room thrashing about, trying to remove her hunting jacket. Immediately, she went over to help her lady undress without saying a word. Honora took out a fresh set of clothes, ran a bath, and stayed nearby since she had not been dismissed.

  After Helena took her bath and changed into clean clothes, she sat by the window with her favourite book in hand A Tale of Love She Could Not Have and stared outside. Might she dream that she could be the heroine of her own love story?

  ‘Is there anything else you need, my lady?’ Honora asked, genuinely wanting her to feel better.

  ‘No, thank you, Norah. That will be all. You may go now. I would like to be alone with my book,’ Helena said softly, still looking outside her window.

  Honora did as she was told and left Helena alone with her thoughts.

  After hearing the door close, Helena opened her book to where she always kept it marked and pulled out the sketched portrait of her mother from between the pages. The tears she had been protesting trickled down her cheeks, slowly at first before turning into thin streams.

  The days have come where now I am being ordered about by a silly, little boy. Helena thought to herself. A boy who is now the heir to our family estate and is as spoiled as they come having such knowledge. Mamaw and Papaw, you were always so good to me. Oh, how life has changed, simply because I could not find a suitable husband and am now a spinster. I am treated as though I am nothing, no one, nobody.

  Helena, now twenty-nine years old, never experienced being ‘in love’. She always dreamed romance would bring her strolls through the gardens and hand-crafted Valentine’s Day cards, but she knew she would never have either of those desires now. She was too old for anyone to fall in love with and not special enough for heartfelt valentines. Deep down, Helena adored St. Valentine’s Day and all the love and romance it represented.

  Helena was certain she would never find the right man for her and hoped, at least, she would remain in her family’s shelter as ‘Lady Helena, Spinster Sister of His Grace.’

  Helena cried her heavy heart out, pouring her pain and ache to her mother’s portrait, praying for better days to come quickly.

  Chapter Two ~ Letter from the Grave

  Lord Robert Kendall was sitting in his library at his grand, oak desk, piles of parchment laying there in front of him with some untouched and some sorted and dealt with. He twirled his quill between his fingers and stared out of the full-length window behind him which overlooked the well-managed garden he was immensely proud of. His mother’s favourite roses wer
e designated an entire area to themselves to honour her. He sighed to himself, remembering what he could through his faint memory of her from when he was ten-years-old. The odd little bits and pieces of her he could remember, he held onto with great effort.

  The loss of his wife also weighed heavily on his heart. It was almost as if he lost her twice. She abandoned him two years ago without a word, and then quietly passed away before they could ever have the chance to reconcile. Lord Robert still wondered why she ran from him. He loved her, gave her freedom, and was never unkind to her. He carried so many questions which would never be answered. All he bore was a hole in his heart from losing the same woman twice.

  A polite knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

  Great timing.

  Lord Robert was in no mood to spiral down into sadness; there were matters to which he needed to attend.

  ‘May I come in, my lord?’ The man behind the door asked courteously.

  ‘Yes, please, come in Reverend Sedgewick,’ Lord Robert replied to the man who was his closest friend and advisor, whom he trusted with all his matters, financial or personal.

  ‘Thank you, my lord,’ Reverend Sedgewick said as he entered the room with a greeting smile.

  ‘Reverend, how many times must I tell you; you only have one Lord, and it certainly is not me…please, call me Robert. You are my dearest friend from so long ago. Let there be no formalities between us.'

  ‘If this is your wish, my lord…Robert, then you must do the same for me.’

  ‘Fair enough. Tell me you have no bad news for me today, Graham. I could do so well without it,’ Robert said while rubbing his recently throbbing temples.

  ‘Good news it is then. I thoroughly went through all your finances and properties and all areas are doing well. Your holdings are profitable whilst there is better news about your crop fields. They have risen with their profit. The farmers say the weather has been kind this month and thus grown better produce,’ Graham, who was also the accountant for all of Lord Robert’s estates, clarified to him.