Romance of the Ruin: the Branwell Chronicles, #2 by Judith Hale Everett

Author:Judith Hale Everett
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Romance
Publisher: Evershire Publishing
Published: 2021-08-04T00:00:00+00:00

Mr. Dowbridge paid little heed to the majority of the gentlemen who had begun to dangle after Miss Breckinridge, for he knew that these frippery fellows could not hold a candle to his worth. He was not, however, so sanguine in regards to Lord Ratherton. Arriving at a card party with the sole object of monopolizing Miss Breckinridge’s attention, he discovered her ensconced in a window seat, deep in discussion with that peer. Too well-bred to eavesdrop, he nonetheless found excuse to linger nearby, adjusting his cravat in a handy mirror, his ears catching the words “Helden” and “mansion” more than once from their general direction. When this scenario—varying only slightly in place and circumstance—played out again the following week, he began to suspect that he, having introduced Lord Ratherton to Miss Breckinridge, had nurtured a snake in his bosom. That his lordship, as foppish as he was pompous, could catch the lady’s fancy had never entered his head, but the evidence of his own eyes could not be denied, and irritated him prodigiously.

When Miss Breckinridge had removed to London—where he knew himself to be the only gentleman from the neighborhood of the Grange—he had been all but certain of her heart; she herself had told him she had no beaux. He had not calculated on Lord Ratherton showing an interest, and the growing intimacy between his lordship and Miss Breckinridge now obliged Dowbridge to entertain doubts of his power over her. It seemed as though her fascination with Helden Hall had been more than a passing curiosity, but if that was Ratherton’s hold upon her, Dowbridge fancied he knew how to act.

Inviting her for a drive out to Richmond, he broached the topic of Helden Hall with a comment upon its shameful use by old Lord Helden.

“Indeed, he was a fool to let it go as he did,” he said, “and ruin both his name and his heir’s chances at once.”

“I am acquainted with your feelings on the subject, Mr. Dowbridge,” replied Lenora, eying him askance, “and cannot feel that we have anything to say to it.”

“It seems to be a subject upon which Lord Ratherton has much to say,” he answered.

She raised an eyebrow. “Yes. He finds the Hall as romantic as I do myself, sir. I know you do not, therefore we need not discuss it.”

He was silent for some minutes, as the fields and farms and walls of various estates sped by. At last he said, with barely controlled irritation, “I wish I knew why you are fascinated with that ruin.”

“If you truly wish to know, sir, I find the house hauntingly beautiful, and think it tragic that the rightful heir has done nothing to redeem it.”

To this, Dowbridge merely commented upon the likelihood of the Hall’s falling down before the heir ever came to view it, and she responded that nothing so sordid could befall such a house. “It is quite a solid building, and shows not a single symptom of submitting to the elements. I am persuaded it will take much more than time to conquer Helden Hall.

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