Sweeter Than Candy: A Regency Novella (The Marvelous Munroes Book 4) Read online

  “I think perhaps I’d better see that they make it to school,” he murmured. He hurried after them, hating himself for being so craven.

  No, not craven. Cautious. He had to find a way to prove to Cynthia once and for all that he was the man for her. Words were no longer enough.

  Unless, perhaps, they symbolized something far more.

  Daniel smiled as he followed the boys out of the house. He might have a difficult time telling Cynthia how he felt, particularly knowing how much she had loved her first husband. But he knew something that could make his point for him. All he had to do was get to Wells and back before dinner.

  Chapter Ten

  Sometime later Cynthia stopped her pacing about the library and peered out the window hoping to catch a glimpse of the returning Daniel. After her sleepless night and John’s outburst that morning, her nerves were on edge, and she wanted only to get her declaration over and done with. Especially after John’s unkind statement, she couldn’t let Daniel think she so despised him.

  But Daniel didn’t come home that morning. Nor did he arrive in time for dinner, although she had a distraught Monsieur Henri delay the meal twice. In fact, she did not see him again until she had descended for supper and found him and the three boys boasting about their fishing of that afternoon. By then she was ready to scream.

  She couldn’t understand his attitude. He had to know she wanted to talk to him, yet he let the boys stay up later than usual and insisted on taking them up to bed himself. She paced the withdrawing room, waiting for his return, and was just about to go up after him when Evenson came through on his rounds to close up the house. He was plainly surprised to see her and made to bow himself out.

  “Evenson,” she said, stopping him in his tracks. “Where is my husband?”

  “I believe Mr. Lewiston retired for bed some time ago, madam,” the butler replied. “Shall I wake him for you?”

  “No,” Cynthia said with a sigh, feeling heavy. “I might as well retire too, then. Good night, Evenson.”

  She didn’t wait to hear him respond.

  Upstairs, she dismissed the young lady Daniel had hired to serve as lady’s maid and began taking down her hair herself. She had combed out her tresses and put on her white cambric nightgown before she saw the box on the fireplace mantle.

  “And don’t think a present will get you out of discussing this, my man,” she muttered to herself as she took down the box and carried it to the bed to rest on her lap. Still, Daniel’s presents had always been wonderful, and she hurriedly pulled the lid off the oblong box. Inside lay a half dozen white sticks of candy, each thicker than her thumb.

  She shook her head. “Where on earth did he find rock here in Wenwood?”

  That had been one of her few joys in living in Bristol, the rock candy made by the town’s leading confectionery. She vaguely remembered telling Daniel something about it when he had first called. Grabbing one of the sticks, she took a long lick and let the sweet taste roll down her throat. Hope filled her with each swallow. Perhaps there was a chance for them if he was still willing to buy her such a present.

  That’s when she noticed the red marks on the end of the white stick. Looking closer, she saw that the marks formed letters.

  Letters that read I love you.

  She stared at the stick for another moment before climbing to her feet. The candy trembled in her grip. She started for the door to her chamber, then stopped, turning toward the door that connected her chamber with Daniel’s. Heart pounding, she went to the closest dressing table, where she had left the key. Returning to the door, she transferred the candy to her left hand and, sticky fingered, unlocked the door with her right. The lock protested with a loud screech. He would know she was coming.

  The rest of her was shaking with her hand as she pushed the door open. Daniel was standing at the side of his bed, green-satin dressing gown obviously thrown on in haste, hair tousled. “Cynthia, is anything wrong?”

  Wordlessly, she held out the candy to him, lettering first.

  *

  Daniel had carefully avoided Cynthia since returning from Wells with his surprise. He’d waited anxiously through supper, but she had made no mention of the package he had left on her mantle, and he had realized with a sinking heart that she hadn’t found it yet. He had let the boys stay up later than usual, hoping that she would retire to her room, but she had seemed intent on confronting him. At last he had taken the boys up to bed and slipped into his own chamber. He had managed to change into nightclothes, but he’d found it impossible to sleep and had perched on his bed, listening for her footfall in the corridor.

  He smiled sheepishly now. “You found it. You said you liked rock best. I hope you don’t mind.”

  She swallowed, as if relishing the lingering sweet on the back of her tongue. “Do you know what it says?”

  He nodded, standing a little taller. “Yes. I asked the candy maker to put in the words. The candy is special, you know. No matter how long you lick it, the words will still show. And it will say ‘I love you’ until the very end, just as I will.”

  The stick fell to the ground as Cynthia cast herself into his arms. Daniel hugged her close, finding her mouth once again so near to his. She tasted of the candy, and more.

  “I love you too,” she murmured. “You are everything I could have asked for in a husband, everything I could ever want.”

  Daniel cradled her against him, thanksgiving rising inside him. For the first time in his life, this place felt like home.

  That night they both learned that Adam was wrong. There was indeed something in life far sweeter than candy.

  Dear Reader

  Thank you for reading Daniel and Cynthia’s story. My mother envisioned the plot and asked me to write it, which I did as a tribute to her. She loves Regency romances as much as I do!

  If you enjoyed the book, there’s several things you could do now:

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  Discover my many other books on my website.

  Turn the page for a sneak peek of the first book in the Spy Matchmaker series, The Husband Mission, where a determined young miss mounts a campaign to win a handsome lord’s heart for her sister, and finds herself falling in love, thanks to the efforts of a certain spy master.

  Blessings!

  Regina Scott

  Sneak Peek of The Husband Mission by Regina Scott, Book 1 in the Spy Matchmaker Series

  Katherine Collins heard the sound she had been waiting for all afternoon.

  “I shall kill him!” her uncle thundered.

  Katherine exchanged glances with her stepsister Constance Templeman, who rose from the leather-bound chair in the library in a flurry of pink-sprigged muslin. Katherine gathered up her own navy skirts and hurried after her for the corridor. Already their man Bixby and their cook and housekeeper Emma were hustling from below stairs.

  “Places,” Katherine ordered from long experience.

  Heavy-set Emma grabbed Constance’s hand, and they scurried for the kitchen stair. Bixby took his place by the front door as Katherine started up the main stairs.

  Above them, the door to her uncle’s study slammed. “I tell you, I shall kill him this time,” Sir Richard Collins swore, storming onto the landing. His handsome face was florid, his cravat loose over his dark coat as if he had yanked the linen free in his frustration. “Bixby, fetch my sword cane!”

  He started down the stairs, his limp barely evident. Katherine put herself squarely in his path.

  “Whatever is the matter, Uncle?” she asked, making her eyes as wide as possible. A shame that her grey eyes were not nearly as vapid and innocent as Constance’s or her heavy auburn tresses as light and curly as her stepsister’s blond mane. But her dainty stepsister would be f
ar more convincing in the role Katherine had given her to play. Constance could never confront anyone, even to save the family from social ruin. In this household, Katherine was the managing female.

  “Stand aside, Katherine,” her uncle blustered. “That editor of The Morning Chronicle has gone too far this time. How dare he malign Wellington’s strategies?”

  Katherine refused to give way. “I am certain Mr. Perry means no disrespect for the valiant general, Uncle. Perhaps if you read the piece on the Peninsular War again…”

  “Again!” Her uncle’s brown eyes glared down at her. “I couldn’t stand to finish it once, let alone twice. Now move out of my way, or I’ll have Bixby confine you to your room for a week.”

  She was fairly sure Bix would never follow through on such an order. He knew which way the wind blew. Besides, he was more grandfather than butler and just as likely to spoil her. Unfortunately, she was even more sure her uncle would not be swayed by logic. Sighing dramatically, she moved out of his way and watched as Bixby flawlessly executed the second phase of their plan.

  “Will you be wanting a carriage then, Sir Richard?” the elderly retainer asked as he handed her uncle his top hat. He was so diffident that Katherine wondered whether Sir Richard would notice. Bixby and her uncle had been campaigners together. At times neither remembered who was master and who servant. She shook her head sharply behind her uncle’s back to warn Bix not to play it too brown, but Sir Richard was already blustering ahead.

  “Of course I want a carriage,” he raged as she came down the stairs. “Do you expect me to walk? I took a ball for Britain, blast you. Must I do everything else as well?”

  Bixby’s blue gaze met hers, and she was pleased that he did not deign to answer the question. He’d been there when her uncle had been wounded. Sir Richard would never have returned home without him. Most days, Sir Richard remembered that and was thankful.

  Bixby straightened his thin shoulders and looked down his long nose. “If you’ll be so good as to wait in the library, then, sir,” he said in his best imitation of a stiff-rumped butler, “I shall fetch you a hack.”

  “Wait?” Sir Richard glared at him, and Katherine thought Bix had given away the game. But her uncle merely snatched the ebony cane from Bixby’s long-fingered grip. “Oh, very well. But be quick about it. And this isn’t my sword cane.”

  “No, sir,” Bixby replied, carefully snagging the offending implement as Sir Richard waved it angrily about. “I shall do my best to locate it.”

  “I believe I saw it upstairs in my brother’s room, Bixby,” Katherine offered. “Eric is rather fond of playing adventurer.”

  The butler nodded and started for the stairs. Sir Richard ripped the cane from his hands as he passed.

  “Never mind! I’ll use this one. Mad as I am, I can likely kill him with my bare hands. And you can forget about that carriage. My indignation will carry me.”

  Bixby and Katherine exchanged glances. So much for phase two. Her butler pulled down the front of his brown wool coat in resignation and raised his voice to start the third phase.

  “Will that be all then, sir?”

  Before Sir Richard could answer, there came a crash from the stair to the kitchen and a blood-curdling scream. Emma burst out the door, large hands wringing before her frilly white apron, white-streaked blond hair flying. Her jowls quivered on either side of her rosebud mouth.

  “Oh, mercy on us! Miss Constance be fallen! Help her, Sir Richard, do!”

  Her uncle blanched. Leaning heavily on his cane, he hurried down the short corridor for the servant’s stair. Katherine and Bixby fell into step behind him. Emma held open the door, and Katherine peered down around her uncle.

  As usual, Constance was the weak link in their plan. She either balked at playing a role or played it far beyond the limits of normality. Today, she lay on the landing, skirts tastefully draped about her sprawled limbs, golden curls fanning out behind her head. Unfortunately, her head was cocked at such a convincingly horrid angle that she wrung a gasp from her uncle. Her creamy completion was so pale that if it hadn’t been for the rise and fall of her well-molded bosom, Katherine might have thought her gravely injured as well. The fact that Eric had returned from his task for the day and was staring at her wide-eyed only completed the ghastly picture.

  “Dear God,” Sir Richard breathed out in a prayer as he scrambled down the stairs. “What happened?”

  “I didn’t do it,” Eric declared, sidling around his uncle, who knelt to touch the girl’s cheek.

  Constance’s blue eyes fluttered open, and Katherine mouthed a warning behind her uncle’s back for her stepsister to behave. Before she could see the effect of her caution, her brother flew up the steps, and she caught him to her.

  “Of course you didn’t do anything to harm Constance, Eric,” she said, giving him a look of warning as well. “You only just returned from the errands I commissioned. Good thing you are home early. We can send you for the carriage so Uncle can visit the office of The Chronicle.”

  Emma put a plump hand on Katherine’s shoulder as if in agreement. The boy’s mouth widened in an O, and she knew he understood them. He should have been as relieved as her uncle to hear Constance moan theatrically. Instead, he paled and tugged on her hand to lead her away from Emma and out of the stairwell. She didn’t like missing the next act of their little play, but she did want to hear what he had to say. She could only hope her stepsister wouldn’t overplay her hand while Katherine was gone.

  “I didn’t know Uncle would be up so soon,” her brother said when they were out of earshot of the drama in the stair. “I thought he’d sleep to all hours after drinking so much last night.”

  Katherine shook her head. “Even with the drink his wound troubles him too much to lay abed for long, I fear. He threatened to kill Mr. Perry again. But our latest plan seems to be working. Constance will get him safely upstairs and keep him at her bedside until we are assured the offices are closed for the day.”

  Eric pulled off the cap and ran a hand back through hair as thick and auburn as her own. “Are you sure this will work?”

  She smiled down at him, watching his button nose wrinkle his freckles into a solid mass of cinnamon. “It will work. Do my plans ever fail?”

  A sharp rap at the door belied her confidence.

  Eric grabbed her hand. “It’s him! I knew I could get him to follow me home.”

  “Him?” Katherine knew she had blanched. “Oh, Eric, no! Is that Lord Borin?”

  Her brother nodded, tugging her toward the door. “Yes, it must be. You said it was time for him to meet Constance again. I got him here for you.”

  Katherine resisted him even as the rap sounded again. “I said we were nearly ready. There is still much we do not know about him to make this husband mission a success. And this is the worst possible time. I jolly well can’t have him meet Constance when she’s supposed to be gravely injured!”

  Eric paused. “Oh, yes, there is that. Well, maybe if we ignore him, he’ll go away.”

  The third rap was far too determined to make her think their visitor would go away any time soon. Katherine frowned. They had worked too hard to identify and attract Viscount Borin to simply let him slip through their fingers now. He might not be able to meet Constance, but she couldn’t let him leave without furthering their cause. She grabbed Eric and pushed him toward the servant’s stair. “Keep them busy until I send him away. Then tell Bix what’s happened.”

  With a nod, Eric scampered off.

  Katherine hurried to the front door and snatched it open. The gentleman standing there was obviously expecting trouble. His eyes were narrowed, and his shoulders were so tense that she wondered he didn’t rip free from the close-fitting grey coat. She had to admit, however, that his air of expectancy in no way detracted from his charm. His hair was nearly as golden as her stepsister’s, though not as wavy, being modestly cut around his oval face. He had high cheekbones and a determined chin. It was a manly face, a face
a sculptor would love, with well-shaped angles and planes. But by far his best feature was his deep-set vivid blue eyes ringed by golden lashes. No woman could resist him, she was certain. What an excellent choice she’d made for Constance.

  She nearly sighed aloud with pleasure, but, realizing that would ruin all, she merely hid her delight beneath a deep curtsey. “Good afternoon, sir. Our servants are busy at the moment. I am the lady of the house. How might I assist you?”

  She rose to watch him and marveled at how easily she read his emotions on his face. The quirk of his firm lips told her he knew he was at a disadvantage. A puff of a sigh informed her he wasn’t sure what to do about it. She could understand his dilemma. The rules of polite society dictated that a gentleman could not simply introduce himself to a lady, even if he suspected she’d had a lad following him all about London. She decided to make it easy for him and achieve her own purposes in the process.

  “Most likely you are here to see my stepsister Constance Templeman. Any number of gentlemen visit for that reason. When one is the belle of the Season, one must expect adulation, I suppose.”

  His brow cleared. “Yes, that is exactly why I am here. Miss Templeman. Might I have a moment of her time?” He smiled.

  My, what a charming smile. The light shone from eyes bluer than a late afternoon sky, and the ends of his mouth curled up in the most beguiling manner. She fancied she even saw the beginnings of a dimple near one corner of his lips. Surely this was one suitor Constance wouldn’t refuse. Perhaps they might yet keep her stepsister’s fortune in hand. Six weeks remained until her twenty-first birthday, after all.

  But the stunning gentleman on her front step must never know that he had been chosen for the role of husband to the fair Constance. He needed to think courting Constance was all his idea. Katherine had found that gentlemen preferred it that way. Indeed, they tended to become quite irrational if they thought they were being manipulated. Unfortunately, they weren’t tremendously rational even when they were in charge. Look at her uncle. Look at her father. Look at the toad who had inherited from her stepfather. Their sheer incapability to care for their families was one of the reasons she so often had to arrange matters herself.