A Marquess' Miraculous Transformation: A Historical Regency Romance Book Read online

  But finally, she set out with Melora. Whatever the future was to hold, she was certain it would be nothing short of a dream.

  Chapter 2

  “I said three sugars,” Ronan grumbled. The maid quickly added a third spoonful without saying a word or looking him in the eye. At least she knew that it was better just to do what made him comfortable than to try and complain about anything. The last thing he needed was to suffer under the frustrations of the servants.

  “Well, that’s one way to treat your fellow human beings,” came an irritated grunt from the doorway.

  Ronan looked and saw Harold leaning against the wooden frame, his brow raised in disappointment.

  “Great, so now I have you to be angry with me?” he asked.

  “If you would like me to be angry with you, I may certainly oblige,” Harold said.

  “I would prefer that you leave me be,” Ronan said.

  “In that case, I shall depart and take all your household employees with me. You cannot tell me that they would not be tempted,” Harold said, grinning at the maid, who tried to keep her own smile at bay.

  It was irritating to Ronan, but he also recognized the truth in Harold’s words.

  “Why must you ensure that everyone likes you so well?” he asked.

  “Why must you ensure they detest you?” Harold retorted, moving out of the way so the maid could leave the room. Harold then moved in further and closed the door before coming to sit beside Ronan.

  “I do not ensure that they detest me. I only expect them to do what they are paid for,” he said.

  “Hardly. You treat them as less than human. I cannot imagine your mother approves,” Harold said.

  “My mother approves of nothing that I do.” He grimaced.

  “Listen to yourself,” Harold said, incredulous and near to laughing. “Has there ever been a man dourer in all the world?”

  “There have been plenty of men far dourer than I. What is this all about, anyway? Why have you come? Purely so that you may point out my failures?” Ronan asked.

  Harold straightened his spine, and his face grew serious.

  “Actually, I came to share good news with you,” he said.

  “What news could possibly be good at a time like this?” Ronan asked.

  “I thought you would be glad to know that the highwaymen who are responsible for your pain have been caught and are going to be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law,” Harold said.

  This was good news, indeed. Ronan was glad to hear that the men would face judgement for their actions. They deserved punishment for what they had done. Of course, it would not undo the consequences of their behaviours, and that was something that Ronan could not quite so easily recover from.

  “Why do you not look pleased?” Harold asked.

  Ronan shrugged and chewed his lip.

  “I am glad that they were arrested. Truly. But what does it matter to me so long as I lay here with two broken legs? There is nowhere that I may go and nothing at all that I may do,” Ronan said.

  “You are going to be just fine. Think of it this way, you have time to simply rest and relax, and everyone is feeling sad for you but thinks that you are some sort of champion for having survived the attack. It is truly going to be marvellous for your reputation,” Harold said.

  “Maybe, but it was my coachman who really made all the difference, and I have little doubt that he will receive the praise for it,” Ronan said.

  “Regardless, you need to be in a better mood. You are very fortunate that things have turned out in the way they have. Your life is going to be wonderful, moving forward. Just as you always knew it would. You simply have to overcome the pain you are currently feeling, but I have no doubt that you shall do just that,” Harold said.

  “Be honest with me. You and I both know that this is going to be a long, slow, and incredibly painful recovery,” he disputed.

  Harold sucked in an annoyed breath of air and shook his head.

  “You are positively determined to be disappointed by everything you see, are you not? I can hardly imagine what you were thinking when you decided to live such an unhappy life. I really do not understand it,” he said.

  “Why are you judging me like this? I am only feeling the same as any other man would, given my predicament. I am a young, vibrant nobleman, and I have every reason to expect that my life should go well,” he said, although saying those words felt heavy somehow like they did not belong in his mouth or any man’s.

  “You are feeling sorry for yourself, and it is unbecoming. A nobleman considers his pride in how he is perceived; you consider your pride in what you think you deserve. Honestly, Ronan, you are going to have to face it one day. You are going to have to grow up,” Harold said.

  The words rang in Ronan’s mind no matter how much he wanted to deny them and pretend they did not matter. The truth was, he knew very well that Harold was right. He had to grow up and stop pretending that he deserved anything better than this.

  “Very well, I know that you are correct. I am sorry for allowing my mood to cause any disagreeable remarks on my part,” Ronan said.

  He only half-meant it but saying it was enough. The last thing Ronan wanted was to continue the argument when he believed that he was justified but also agreed that Harold was half-right. After all, he really did need to give more consideration to others’ perception than his own perception of what he deserved. But it was not going to be easy.

  “Well, although I do not believe you are going to be agreeable on any matter suddenly, I think we ought to discuss your plans to recover. I must admit that I am curious as to what the doctor has said,” Harold said.

  “You may ask him for yourself. He should be here at any moment. He comes to visit every three days now just to ensure that I am still not risking infection and that the bones have not shifted out of the correct position,” Ronan said.

  Harold grimaced as if the idea of it was rather unpleasant.

  “Very well,” Harold said.

  Indeed, just then, they heard the sound of a coach approaching the estate. Harold stood and looked outside, appearing rather impressed.

  “You are an excellent judge of timing,” he said.

  “Yes, thank you. I always thought as much,” Ronan said with a satisfied grin.

  Within a few moments, the doctor was in the room with him. He greeted Harold and quickly moved to Ronan’s side to look at the leg and see how it was doing.

  “Hmm … yes, it looks as though you are still healing nicely enough. I remain concerned, however, that you may be at risk of infection. Are the bandages being changed regularly as discussed?” the doctor asked.

  “Yes, they are,” he replied.

  Just then, his mother came into the room.

  “Oh, good, you have come. I was eager to speak with you and ensure that my son is healing nicely,” she said.

  “Yes, and I am eager to be sure that he is as well. Thus far, it looks as though he is going to be all right, but we really cannot say for months yet to come,” the doctor replied.

  “But there is no infection, correct?” she asked.

  “None. That is very good news, but we must be certain to keep it that way. And, we must also be sure that he stays off the legs. With the multiple breaks, it could be quite agonizing if he were to try and push himself into walking or even moving them,” he said.

  “And what of a sturdier cast?” his mother asked.

  “I cannot give a sturdier cast until the risk of infection is gone. For now, we must be able to change bandages easily,” he said.

  Ronan groaned, mostly out of frustration than the pain, but the doctor and his mother both looked at him with concern.

  “I cannot bear the thought of lying here for months to come. There are balls coming up in these months. There is work to be done in England. And I shall be stuck here, unable to do much of anything. Simply reading and resting,” he said.

  His mother stared at him with the sort of glare that alw
ays left him ashamed. He knew better than to vocalize his complaints around her. What was he doing? There was no reason to allow himself to behave like this.

  And at that moment, Ronan realized that Harold had been correct. He was giving himself far too great an opportunity to be full of angst and frustration, and that would do him no good at all.

  “Anyway, forgive my complaints. I understand that I have luxuries that most do not,” he said, understanding that it was the sort of apology his mother would surely want to hear from him at that moment.

  “Yes, well, I do hope you keep your spirits up,” the doctor said, rather uncomfortably. “It is important that you take every opportunity to see the good in all of this. After all, you have a long road ahead.”

  As if he needed the reminder …

  “All shall be well. We even have a new maid starting tomorrow to assist him. A young woman with some medical knowledge,” his mother said.

  “What? Truly?” Ronan asked, surprised by this development.

  “Yes. Truly,” she replied tersely.

  “With medical knowledge?” the doctor asked, sounding dubious and very nearly amused.

  “What is so difficult to believe about that?” Ronan’s mother asked.

  “Well, begging your pardon, My Lady, but young women are not able to study medicine,” he said.

  “You must forgive my mother. In Ireland, women are afforded a good deal more freedom than they are here,” Ronan said.

  His mother tutted and rolled her eyes.

  “You have no idea how women in Ireland are treated, nor how strong they truly are,” she said.

  That, for one, was true. Ronan remained astonished at his mother’s strength, being of Irish nobility and living in England, where her people were hated. But her marriage to his father had been one of love, and that was all that mattered, they always said.

  Ronan knew they were disappointed in how selfish and spoiled he was, but he never hesitated to remind them that they had raised him this way. Even if his mother thought he should be more grateful, he would remind her that she had hardly suffered in her life, even through the conflict of her nationality.

  But it was interesting news to hear that she had found him a maid, especially one with medical abilities. Such a thing was nearly unheard of. Whoever this woman was, he imagined she was not so clever as she believed herself to be. Still, he hoped she would be adequate in her duties and learn how to make his favourite tea just the way he liked it.

  For a moment, he flushed with guilt. Indeed, Ronan knew he had been a miserable cur in these past few weeks, but the idea of having his own personal maid felt different somehow. While it ought to have made him feel more important, it only reminded him of his current incapabilities.

  Regardless, he hoped that she would do what he needed when he needed it and that his recovery would be swift enough not to need her for long. No matter what, she had no idea what was in store for her.

  Then again, maybe Ronan did not know either.

  Chapter 3

  Lavender could scarcely contain her anxiety. It was bursting over, filling up her soul. She had no idea how she was going to control herself, to remain calm.

  But she had to do this. She was eager and looking forward to the opportunity to work; she just needed to find her confidence.

  It was not going to be easy; she was certain. But she did not need it to be easy. She did not need it to be simple. She only needed to prove to herself that she was strong enough, that she was capable.

  It was exciting, knowing that she would have this opportunity to help someone through an injury. After all, at least she could use her skills. It was not the same as simply cleaning or doing household tasks.

  Nevertheless, she wanted to do her best.

  “Calm down, Lavender. I can hear you breathing,” Melora said.

  “What do you mean? Hear me breathing? What is that supposed to mean? Shall I hold my breath?” she asked.

  “I did not say that. I only noted that you are near enough to panic, and I cannot allow you to be in such a state. Remember, I am the one who secured this position for you. I have to show Lady Beckman that I have good friends and not crazy ones,” Melora said.

  It was not the comfort that Lavender needed. But, as if sensing that fact, Melora quickly placed a hand on her arm.

  “I am sorry. I know that you are anxious, and I can understand that. I was on my first day as well. I sometimes forget what it was like. But you really have no reason to be nervous,” she said.

  “You told me the marquess is awful,” Lavender reminded her.

  “Yes. And he is. But that is beside the point. The point to recall is that you are coming for nothing other than to take care of him. He does not expect you to heal him, and no one expects you to change his ugly behaviour,” Melora said.

  “So, what am I really to do? If he is cruel to me, how shall I get by?” she asked.

  “He is not going to be cruel. Obnoxious, never cruel,” Melora said.

  “That is a relief. But beyond that, I wish to do my best, to prove that I am capable of the sort of work they are expecting from me. What if I fail?” she asked.

  Melora looked at her with eyes that bridged between compassion and disregard.

  “You do not need to worry about these things, Lavender. I assure you. You are going to see how simple this really is and think yourself a fool for ever having worried,” Melora said.

  She hoped that Melora was right. After all, she had been working at the estate for the past few years. Surely, she knew better than anyone how to interact with the family.

  Of course, she had also mentioned that the marquess was not an overly friendly man at the moment. In fact, it sounded as though he was a rather unpleasant sort of fellow. She had told her that in the past, but that was back when Lavender had believed him to be just a child. That was back when she pictured him as a small boy as opposed to a grown man.

  “Here we are. First, we will simply go inside, and I shall show you to your room. But I do not doubt that Lady Beckman is going to want to meet you. I expect that it shall be before you meet the marquess, but you need not feel concerned, whatever the order. You are going to be all right,” she said again.

  “Yes, thank you. You have told me that many times now and it is only making me more anxious each time,” Lavender said with a nervous laugh.

  “I am sorry, but I simply do not know what to say to put your mind at ease,” Melora said.

  There was nothing as far as Lavender knew. Nothing would put her mind at ease.

  Finally, she was ready. She had to proceed forward and meet the man for whom she was going to be caring.

  Lavender knocked on the door and waited.

  “Yes? Who is there?” came the voice on the other side.

  “M-Miss Philips,” she said.

  “Who on earth is Miss Philips?” asked the voice.

  “I am the maid hired to care for the marquess,” she said, believing that was the very man to whom she was speaking.