Romance: Regency Romance: In Bed With The Duke (A Regency Romance) by Emily Teska, Historical Deluxe Page A
Authors: Emily Teska, Historical Deluxe
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to war, and Napoleon is on his last legs out there. The garrison will be marching back home before you even realize that I’m gone.” I looked up at him with wide eyes, and wished that I shared his optimism. He gripped my chin lightly between his gloved fingers and kissed me lingeringly on the mouth; how I loved the way his lips felt against mine. Mrs. Baker cleared her throat loudly behind us, and George reluctantly ended the kiss. Propriety be damned!
I clutched the lapels of George’s jacket and almost pleaded with him not to go, but I knew such wailing would be useless, George loved the army, and for months all he had been talking about was how much he hoped to be called up to go to France. He smiled down at me while I straightened his cravat and fussed over his buttons. It was hard to be brave. But it was harder still to watch him walk to the door where his friend Mr. Grace waited. He had an impatient look about him, and I imagined he was as eager to get out of England as George was. George didn’t tell me that he loved me, not in front of Mr. Grace, or Mrs. Baker, but I knew he wanted to.
I stood on the stoop and watched them go. Other wives were bidding goodbye to their husbands too, mothers fawned over their sons, and sisters hugged their brothers tightly as they joined George and Mr. Grace in the street. We would be a village of women and children until the men came home from war. The loneliness of it all was crushing, and I could feel the tears pricking at my lashes once more. I closed the door tightly behind me and went to my rooms. With the finality of George’s departure finally sinking in, there was nothing I could do to keep away the tears, and I sobbed into my pillow. For two years I had known true happiness, and now it was all slipping away. With George gone, I had no one – my family was too far away to come and keep me company, and I couldn’t bear to leave the house that I had shared with George. Mrs. Baker was a spy for my vile mother in law, and I couldn’t imagine what she had in store for me now that George would no longer be able to protect me from her vicious barbs and judgements.
Mrs. Baker’s rapid knock on my chamber door pulled me from my misery. The housekeeper’s voice was muffled by the wood of the door, but her shrill voice still penetrated the silence of the room.
“Mrs. Rutledge, you have a visitor. Mrs. Charles is here to see you.” I hiccoughed slightly, I knew that I looked a fright but I didn’t care. I hauled myself off the bed and opened the door. Mrs. Baker looked me up and down, a n expression of annoyance on her face. “It won’t do to lock yourself away sobbing like a child.” I felt my face redden with embarrassment, and I wiped away my tears hurriedly.
“Charlotte! Charlotte come down!” Sophia was awful at waiting, but being around her never failed to lift my spirits. I pushed past Mrs. Baker and went down the stairs to where Sophia was waiting. Sophia had been the first person to befriend me after my marriage to George. She was quick-witted, had a sparkling laugh and was the best pianoforte player I had ever met. She and I had played together many times for balls and social gatherings, and she was the only one who knew how to compliment my voice with her playing.
Sophia’s husband had gone away to France months ago, and I had consoled her through the worst of her tears, and I was grateful that she had come to see me. I fell into Sophia’s arms and a fresh bout of tears spilled over my cheeks and onto the soft fabric of her coat. “Charlotte, hush now.” Sophia hugged me tightly as I sniffled, “Come sit with me, I know this is hard, but this is what happens to soldier’s wives. We marry dashing, brave, stupid men who go to war. When this silly thing in France is all over with, they’ll be here annoying us day in and day out and stinking up our parlors with cigar smoke, drinking and playing cards and moaning on about the
I clutched the lapels of George’s jacket and almost pleaded with him not to go, but I knew such wailing would be useless, George loved the army, and for months all he had been talking about was how much he hoped to be called up to go to France. He smiled down at me while I straightened his cravat and fussed over his buttons. It was hard to be brave. But it was harder still to watch him walk to the door where his friend Mr. Grace waited. He had an impatient look about him, and I imagined he was as eager to get out of England as George was. George didn’t tell me that he loved me, not in front of Mr. Grace, or Mrs. Baker, but I knew he wanted to.
I stood on the stoop and watched them go. Other wives were bidding goodbye to their husbands too, mothers fawned over their sons, and sisters hugged their brothers tightly as they joined George and Mr. Grace in the street. We would be a village of women and children until the men came home from war. The loneliness of it all was crushing, and I could feel the tears pricking at my lashes once more. I closed the door tightly behind me and went to my rooms. With the finality of George’s departure finally sinking in, there was nothing I could do to keep away the tears, and I sobbed into my pillow. For two years I had known true happiness, and now it was all slipping away. With George gone, I had no one – my family was too far away to come and keep me company, and I couldn’t bear to leave the house that I had shared with George. Mrs. Baker was a spy for my vile mother in law, and I couldn’t imagine what she had in store for me now that George would no longer be able to protect me from her vicious barbs and judgements.
Mrs. Baker’s rapid knock on my chamber door pulled me from my misery. The housekeeper’s voice was muffled by the wood of the door, but her shrill voice still penetrated the silence of the room.
“Mrs. Rutledge, you have a visitor. Mrs. Charles is here to see you.” I hiccoughed slightly, I knew that I looked a fright but I didn’t care. I hauled myself off the bed and opened the door. Mrs. Baker looked me up and down, a n expression of annoyance on her face. “It won’t do to lock yourself away sobbing like a child.” I felt my face redden with embarrassment, and I wiped away my tears hurriedly.
“Charlotte! Charlotte come down!” Sophia was awful at waiting, but being around her never failed to lift my spirits. I pushed past Mrs. Baker and went down the stairs to where Sophia was waiting. Sophia had been the first person to befriend me after my marriage to George. She was quick-witted, had a sparkling laugh and was the best pianoforte player I had ever met. She and I had played together many times for balls and social gatherings, and she was the only one who knew how to compliment my voice with her playing.
Sophia’s husband had gone away to France months ago, and I had consoled her through the worst of her tears, and I was grateful that she had come to see me. I fell into Sophia’s arms and a fresh bout of tears spilled over my cheeks and onto the soft fabric of her coat. “Charlotte, hush now.” Sophia hugged me tightly as I sniffled, “Come sit with me, I know this is hard, but this is what happens to soldier’s wives. We marry dashing, brave, stupid men who go to war. When this silly thing in France is all over with, they’ll be here annoying us day in and day out and stinking up our parlors with cigar smoke, drinking and playing cards and moaning on about the
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