The Dark Regent_A Dark Victorian Romance by Catherine Lloyd

Author:Catherine Lloyd [Lloyd, Catherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Victorian England, historical gothic suspense, brooding tortured antihero, Adult, Romance, historical romance, orphan heroine, dark romantic love story
ISBN: 9781988003528
Google: TKV5DwAAQBAJ
Amazon: B079S1S4BW
Goodreads: 38524325
Publisher: Writewood Creations
Published: 2018-02-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

LADY GILLIAN Coleridge was attentive and kind throughout the meal. Albus Laleham was attentive as well but his attentions made Fawn uncomfortable. His looks in her direction were lascivious—although she was beginning to doubt her perceptions in that area. Did all men have the same instincts as Captain Wolfe?

After their conversation in the cave on the beach, Fawn had returned to the Hall slowly, needing a solitary walk to examine her thoughts and escape Crispin’s searching gaze for a few hours. He had cleverly undermined her opinion of herself to the point that she actually felt guilty for hurting him!

In reality (Fawn reminded herself) Crispin had trapped her at Hawkcliffe Hall and could press his demands with impunity until she relented. The only other future he offered was that of a governess. According to her aunt’s acquaintances, governesses were viewed with distaste and mistrust. Fawn doubted she could tolerate such servitude. If she dared strike out on her own to make a living, the risk of the workhouse or the asylum was very real with no connections to recommend her. No, on further reflection, Crispin Wolfe did not deserve her pity.

“You are awfully quiet, my dear.” Albus Laleham was gazing at her with concern.

She had no experience with gentlemen. Perhaps Mr. Laleham was a kind man and it was she who was depraved for reading evil in him.

“I am simply enjoying the conversation, sir. You’ve all led such exciting lives.”

There was another guest at the table, a young man by the name of Corporal Wilfred Jameson, a relation of Lady Coleridge’s and a career soldier. He was in his early twenties by Fawn’s estimation. Lady Coleridge had brought him along to Wolfe’s great irritation. It was a small revenge, but Fawn took delight in listening attentively to Corporal Jameson’s conversation, effectively ignoring Wolfe.

“I was grieved to hear about your recent loss, Miss Heathcote,” Jameson said in a quiet undertone. “Were you very close?”

Wilfred’s eyes were a soft warm brown and he smiled frequently. The corporal did not have Crispin’s striking features, but he was very fine-looking. And his manners were impeccable.

“I tried to be. My aunt had a nervous disposition. I’m afraid I was often a disappointment.”

“Impossible,” Wilfred said with a smile. “You are too splendid to disappoint anyone.”

Albus Laleham piped up. “You must tell us all about yourself, Fawn. I am vastly interested in the comings and goings of young ladies. How do you like living in solitary confinement with your uncle? I should think you must find it tiresome after the liveliness of London.”

“Not at all. I like it very much, Mr. Laleham. I am quite content.”

Laleham’s brows lifted. “Even after your aunt’s death? I should’ve thought you’d be sunk in grief. Naturally, I am delighted you are not.” He exchanged a glance with Lady Gillian.

“Albus, I am astonished you found the courage to tear yourself away from London at all,” Crispin interrupted curtly. “I believe you regard country air as bad for one’s health, don’t you?”

Fawn was grateful for the change in topic, though Crispin seemed not to notice her distress.

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