Love Birds: The Complete Collection Read online

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and/or persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are the property of their respective owners and are used for reference only and not an implied endorsement.

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  Published by esKape Press

  www.eskapepress.com

  All Rights Reserved

  Copyright © 2015 RUTH J. HARTMAN

  ISBN-10: 1940695775

  ISBN-13: 9781940695778

  Cover Art Design by For the Muse Design

  Other titles by Ruth J. Hartman

  Historical Romance

  A Courtship for Cecilia

  The Unwanted Earl

  Love Birds of Regent’s Park

  The Matchmakers

  Romancing the Dustman’s Daughter

  Romance at the Royal Menagerie

  Rescued by a Duke

  Time for a Duke

  Contemporary Romance

  Flossophy of Grace

  Pillow Talk

  Cats and Cowboys

  Better Than Catnip

  Purrfect Voyage

  Grin and Barrett

  Mind of a Stranger

  Waylaid

  Over A Fence

  Memoir

  Life in Mental Chains

  Children’s Book

  Murphy in the Paw-Paw Patch

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Love Birds of Regent's Park

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Unwanted Earl

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  A Courtship for Cecilia

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Maid for Romance

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  His Lady Peregrine

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Love Birds of Regent's Park

  To Garry, my love bird.

  Chapter One

  London, England

  1814

  Lord Conrad Croome, the fifth Earl of Lofton, glared at the back of Alfred’s head as he followed the butler to Mr. Ashbrook’s study. Portraits of generations of the indecently wealthy family lined the dark paneled walls of the entryway. The smell of beeswax rose from the wood and tickled his nose. Certainly, Ashbrook could afford to spare no expense in the care and furnishing of his vast estate.

  At long last, after years of showing up at the man’s home every week, sitting quietly in the parlor with Lucy and biding his time… Conrad had the means to force Ashbrook into giving him what he wanted. What he deserved.

  The butler turned and motioned toward the open doorway. “He will see you now, Lord Lofton.”

  “Thank you.” The words leached out from between Conrad’s clenched teeth. No use letting on to Ashbrook that things between him and the servant were anything other than a visitor to the home thanking a servant.

  “Very good, my lord.” Alfred appeared to be docile and subservient. Of course, Conrad now knew the man would betray his employer for enough money.

  The door snapped closed behind him. Conrad smiled at the top of Mr. Ashbrook’s bent head and waited for the older man to acknowledge him. The large study, paneled in wood, smelled of cigar smoke. A window behind the settee allowed a glimpse of the massive, manicured lawn.

  After today, things will be different. This is the last time I shall be required to wait. He nervously tapped the large portfolio of valuable papers beneath his coat.

  Ashbrook glanced up and frowned. The man always wore a frown. That feature, added to his bulky frame, could be quite off-putting. “Lofton. Have a seat.” He looked back down at the papers strewn about his desk as if Conrad wasn’t even there.

  In but a
few moments, he’ll be treating me with much more respect.

  Conrad walked to the settee across from the large desk and sat. And waited. Nervous energy caused him to fidget. His fingers drummed on his knees and his boots tapped. Nothing he told himself made a difference. It was as if he couldn’t stay calm.

  “Well?”

  Conrad gasped and jumped.

  “What’s gotten into you, Lofton? See a ghost?”

  “N-no… of course not.”

  Ashbrook waved a hand at the papers on his desk. “What’s it to be? Haven’t got the whole of the day now do I?”

  Resentment at being treated lower than mud on the man’s boot washed over Conrad. How dare he? Fidgeting was replaced by calm assurance that Mr. Ashbrook would indeed speak to him. Now.

  Lucy’s father rolled his eyes. “Speak your piece, man, so I can—”

  Conrad held out a hand toward Ashbrook.

  The older man stopped mid-sentence and stared, opened-mouthed. “How dare you interrupt me in my own home? Why, I have a mind to—”

  “To what?”

  Ashbrook stood. His meaty hands squeezed into fists. “I’ll not put up with—”

  “Sit. Down.”

  Widening his eyes, Mr. Ashbrook stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”

  Conrad patted his coat. “Trust me when I tell you that you will indeed want to hear what I have to say.”

  “You can’t speak to me that way.” He looked toward the closed door. “Alfred! Get in here!”

  The door remained closed.

  “Alfred!”

  Silence mocked Ashbrook’s bellow for assistance.

  Conrad smiled. “Perhaps your butler is otherwise engaged.”

  Ashbrook stared toward the door a few seconds longer and slowly swung his gaze to Conrad. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing. Perhaps you’re foxed. Or Bedlam might be your next stop. But there must be some explanation for your outrageous behavior, Lofton. And if you think you are going to marry Lucy now that you’ve—”

  “Oh yes. I’ll marry her.”

  “She’ll not be giving her inheritance to the likes of you.”

  Conrad removed the papers from his coat. “She will, and you’ll give her to me gladly.” He tapped the top of the portfolio. “And you’ll be giving me much, much more than just her inheritance when we marry.”

  “But—”

  “In fact, as soon as I disclose what’s in this envelope, you will grant me anything I ask for.”

  Red, the shade of a sunset, covered Ashbrook’s round face. His gaze slid to Conrad’s hand. He lowered his brows to a frown. “What’s that?”

  “If you sit down, I will tell you all about it.”

  Ashbrook opened his mouth but no words came out. He plopped onto the chair. Air whooshed out from his mouth with a low whistle. “Fine. I’m sitting. Get it over with, whatever this thing is you feel is so important. Then you’re leaving and never returning.”

  “I think not.” Conrad opened the portfolio, tugged the pages free, and placed them on his lap. “You see, it has come to my attention that you have some very lucrative business heading your way.”

  “I am a successful business man, Lofton. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have all that I do.”

  Conrad nodded. “True. However, this information is very specific.”

  “Preposterous. You’d have no way of knowing anything about my business unless I had told you myself.”

  “Perhaps that was the case. Before.”

  “Before?”

  Conrad waved the pages back and forth.

  Ashbrook narrowed his eyes. “You keep fumbling with those blasted papers. What do they contain?”

  “Secrets. Yours.”

  “I’ve heard enough.” He stood abruptly. His chair legs scraped the floor as he pushed away from the desk.

  Conrad remained seated. “No. I think not. You see, Jeffrey. May I call you Jeffrey? Or would you prefer Father, since I will soon marry into your family?”

  Ashbrook’s eyes bulged. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Lofton, but I’ll not put up with any further nonsense!”

  “I wouldn’t call something that will double your fortune nonsense.”

  “But… I—”

  “Yes, that’s right. What I have in my possession is proof of your future deal with Lord Proust.”

  “Impossible! Why no one else knows… how did you come by that?”

  “That’s my secret. And no, I won’t be sharing it with you.”

  “A spy!” Ashbrook looked wildly about the room as if someone might be hiding in a corner or behind the drapes. “Who’s been spying on me? My servants are all trustworthy, and Lucy is too stupid to do something like that.”

  “You won’t find out who gave me the information. What remains, however, is how we will go about you giving me half of your earnings through Proust.”

  “Even if you do have the information you claim to have, there’s no way in—”

  “Let’s be reasonable, Jeffrey. I’ve read through these documents thoroughly. And I was smart enough to create a copy for myself. It seems you and Proust have formed an alliance that might be of interest to the public. Shall we say an… illegal alliance? That certainly wouldn’t make you popular now, would it? And I’d wager you’d lose a vast number of business associates as a result.”

  Ashbrook ground his teeth together so violently that Conrad heard it from several feet away. He stormed toward Conrad and thrust out his hand.

  Conrad tilted his head. “Certainly have a look. As I said, that’s not my only copy.”

  He lowered his eyebrows and read the first page, his eyes moving left to right across the paper. Then on to the second, third, and forth. With each page, his face grew redder.

  Conrad sat quietly and waited. His heart thumped in his chest. It was going to happen. He was finally going to get his due!

  Crushing the pages in his hand, Ashbrook threw them on the floor. He paced across the room from his desk to the door and back.

  And still, Conrad waited.

  Ashbrook stopped abruptly and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he peered directly at Conrad. “I see you are in possession of what you claim. I seem to be at your mercy, Lofton. What’s it to be, then?”

  Conrad stood. “To begin with, I want to marry your daughter. As soon as possible.”

  Chapter Two

  Lucy chewed on her bottom lip, concentrating as she pressed a bit harder with the graphite pencil to shade in the bird’s eye. A smooth, curved line met in a circle around the iris. Small straight strokes created tiny feathers around its beak.

  There. Now the face is complete. That will show snippy Amelia who is the more accomplished artist. The last I saw of hers, the poor bird resembled a hippopotamus.

  A light breeze lifted the tendrils of hair around her face. She glanced up again at the bird she was drawing. It squawked and tilted its head, looking right at her.

  Lucy sighed. She did love the Sanctuary so. As had her mother before she died. It had been such a joy to come with her as a little girl for occasional visits to see the different birds. Tears pricked the backs of Lucy’s eyes. She looked down at her paper. No. Mama wouldn’t want me to be sad while I’m at her favorite place.

  Plus, there was the added bonus of staying out of her father’s way when she was there. No matter what she did, she couldn’t seem to please him.

  Steps plodded on the smooth path beside the park bench. Then halted. Someone’s shadow obscured the sunlight that had formerly illuminated Lucy’s drawing paper. Large dusty work boots appeared from the corner of her eye. One boot tapped. Twice.

  “Impressive.”

  Lucy gasped, startled by the stranger’s deep voice. Her gaze traveled from the aforementioned boots, to pants with a frayed hem and small hole in the knee, up to broad shoulders covered in a thick dark blue shirt beneath a tweed coat. Widening her eyes when she finally reached his face, she gulped. His collar-length dark hair lifted i
n the light breeze. The stranger’s eyes were darker than the graphite of her pencil. Had hours in the sun given his cheeks that bronzed hue? And… that smile. Oh my. One corner tipped up, forming a dimple. If she had been the type to swoon, that would have been the perfect moment. And those lips. Surely they would be…

  “Looks as if you’ve captured the image of a nuthatch quite nicely.”

  There was that smooth as honey voice again. Should that make her skin tingle so? Mouth gone dry, Lucy nodded. Nuthatch? What was a nuthatch? And why was the handsome man there? Talking? To her? There she sat, alone in the Bird Sanctuary, drawing any bird that would light close enough for her to view its feathers, and a man, a handsome man, simply strolled up to see what she was about.

  “Miss, are you often in the Sanctuary drawing birds?”

  Why, oh why, hadn’t she listened to her father when he scolded her for not taking her maid Anna along? Because she had been sure no one would be about this early hour. Certain that having her driver, Carlton, just outside the gate would suffice.

  Bother.

  The stranger certainly was being forward, speaking to her like that. Now she would have to either speak to the man staring at her with raised dark eyebrows or act as if she hadn’t seen him. And that would be—

  The man’s face reddened. “Pardon my intrusion, miss. I’ll not bother you further.” The heels of his boots scuffed on the path as he turned to go.

  What was wrong with her? The man must think her an imbecile. “W-wait!”

  Angling back toward her, he squinted against the sun. “Ah, words do indeed flow from your tongue, then.” A mischievous grin graced his perfect, full lips. He took a step toward her. Then another. “Mr. Barrow, at your service.” He gave her a slight bow and nod.

  Mr. Barrow’s dress was that of a laborer, dusty and worn. Yet his speech told of someone well enough off to have had the benefit of education. So, which was he? A poor worker or an educated gentleman?

  “I'm Miss Ashbrook. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” She glanced at his old, cracked, dirty gloves. Her gloves, white and clean except for a tiny smudge of graphite, gleamed in comparison. She was not often caught in conversation with common workers — except those of her own household, of course. And even then, she didn’t converse with them much. Except for Anna. But that was different.