Lady Jane's Secret: A Regency Novel

By Liz Levoy

Lady Jane's Secret

A Regency Novel

After Lady Jane was betrayed by her former fiancé, she has lost interest in men. To make matters worse, her father has squandered the family fortune and Jane is forced to work to earn a living. She is commissioned by Charles Wellington, Earl of Southwell, as a governess for the two six-year-old twin daughters who have set themselves the task of rejecting any governess who applies. But the girls like her, and the count seems clearly taken with her as well, although she does not tell him her true origin.

Just when they confess their love, Jane's ex-fiancé, Albert, appears who let her sit years ago. Albert quickly finds out that Jane and Charles are busier than just having a business relationship and becomes jealous. He tries again to win her heart.

When Jane Albert finally declines, he takes revenge by informing Charles about her background and the financial situation of her family. Charles sees himself confirmed in his suspicion that Jane is only after his fortune and dismisses her.

Will the truth come out in the end and will Charles and Jane find to each other?

 

About the Author

 Liz Levoy is a bestselling author who has been writing romantic stories since her senior year in high school. Levoy is a truly passionate romance writer that loves to entice her avid readers, using her experience from her travels around the world.

Feelings of love, desire and chemistry dominate her books and the characters that she creates come alive, striving for love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: DAO Press
• Release date: Jan 29, 2019

Book preview

Imprint

Chapter 1

1819 Loughborough, England

    "This is only for a while, I assure you. In no time, we shall be back on our feet. We only need to wait for the returns of the investment with Chalain’s. I am certain that when it comes, we shall invest further with it, and very soon, we’ll be back to where we once belonged." Lord Hathaway reassured as he ushered his small family of three into their home in the country.

    Jane Hathaway, his daughter and only child rolled her eyes. How many times have they heard this before? She had lost count. Ever since her father started taking his plunge into debts as he gambled away his fortune, he had begun to sing this song. At first, it had been Next game, I will win everything back. So, he had gone ahead and wagered more fortune in the next game, hoping to win it all and more, only to lose it all and more. He had continued that way until he had managed to lose everything they owned. Wealth, estates, lands, business affiliations with several firms, their townhouse in London, their home in the country, he had lost it all until they had no other option that to return to this home.

        The one that had come as the heaviest blow was losing their townhouse. The house had been magnificent and for a lover of great architectural work like Jane, it had been a delight to live in. The house was of Palladian style with its own little square of garden in front. It had been a building of two stories, having an attic and about thirty rooms. At each side of the house stood pavilions, but the centre stood taller that the other sides of the house. The windows were large and had been placed on a grid. Her father had told her it had been done so, to reduce window tax which was in force. She had loved to look out the sash windows, especially since it started at just her waist, affording her easy view through it. from there, she could behold London streets, the small stable and the garden which her mother often tended with such care and dedication. She had had a balcony in her chamber, the other chambers too- elegant, wrought iron balconies. The house had been built brick but had been painted with white stuccos façade, adding to its elegance. From outside, it looked like a small castle, fit for a king. Tall, proud, with the beautiful green grasses. When one stepped in, they got welcomed by the elegant design of the mezzanine floors, the balustrades on the ceiling and the chimneypiece. Then of course, there had been the crescents and the terraces. Ornaments in gold and silver, beautiful stones and porcelain vases, object d’art, just to mention a few. It had truly been magnificent. Well, now, she was back to another magnificent house. One that felt more of a home than that which she had left.   

This one, was a typical gothic style, after being passed down from decades to decades. Its red bricks had been washed to brown but it still stood firm and grand. Nana had said that it had seen almost a hundred years, and it would see more. It was a beauty, larger than their home in London- rather, what used to be their home. It had been built with fortification and it had served its cause during the Napoleonic war and the wars before that. Jane reckoned that the only reason why they still had this home was because her late grandmother, bless her soul, had refused to sign it over in her father’s name. She was certain that if Nana had done so, her father would have lost it in a wager a long time ago, then truly they would have nowhere to go to and they would be homeless, no better than the paupers that lived on the streets. To think that a viscount who had inherited all the wealth he would ever need from his forefathers, had fallen to such lowly state, all for the reason that he could not curb his addictions.

    She sighed. It was a festering disease, only he was not willing to accept that yet. Until he did, they could not seek a cure for him. How could one hope to get an ailing man to take his medicine, when he did not believe himself to be ill? There were so many things she wished she could say to her father. However, she knew that her best actions would be to hold her peace. Her father did not only suffer from the disease of gambling, he suffered too from the disease of pride. He certainly was not the only problem she had. In fact, if she had not met Nana, she would have lived a life of endless wonder about the truth of her birth parents, for she had never seen anyone so different from the people that birthed them. She had Nana to thank for a lot of things. Most especially, for taking her in her care till she had been a girl of seventeen, ready to enter society. That had been six years ago. Nana had been dead, for five of it. Since then, she had lived fully with her parents. The years had only made her more embarrassed by them. Many a times, she wished that she was not a woman who had to move from her father’s house to her husband’s house. If she were a man, heavens knew that she would have left a long time ago. Alas, she was a lady and she had no way of escape except marriage. After her failed engagement, that was likely to never happen. That meant she was doomed to spend the rest of her life with these people. Perhaps, if she reached the age of thirty and remained a spinster, she would be allowed to pursue her life.

  Oh Evans, of course. This is only for a very little while. We shall be back to London soon, we shall buy back our house and even a bigger one and all those who wagged their tongues at me, especially Cecilia Jones, would be made to bite back their words. They only have to wait and see! Amelia Hathaway cried, supporting her husband’s fool dreams.

    Jane simply ignored them as she found her way to her chamber. The chamber she had owned when she was a little girl, through all those years she stayed with Nana. If not for anything, it felt good to be back to the house for the precious memories she held dear to her heart, laid here. She was certain that she would have one to recall, every time she moved through places in the house. A fond memory of Nana telling her stories, sewing together, taking a ride together, or simply discussing about the dysfunctional societal norms which no one cared to realize. She had had her best lives here and she was glad at least, that she had this home to return to. As the maids dropped her boxes, she sent them away, letting them know she would unpack herself. Before they had come down to Loughborough, they had had to let go of their staff, slowly until only the butler was left. She had gotten accustomed to doing things by herself. It had been easier because Nana never spoiled her by having many maids fuss over her. She had learned to cook, clean, dress herself and she had enjoyed every bit of it. Thankfully, Nana had come up with a way to keep the staff of this household paid, by setting up a financial system for them. She had wanted to keep her staff so that they would not be out of employment and so that this home would always be ready and available to them. It was as if Nana had seen this future. Then again, when one knew her father as well as his mother knew him, it was easy to tell he would come to this at some point.

      As she closed the door behind the ladies, she heard her mother’s voice floating down the hallway. Amelia was no better than her husband. Except, when her husband gambled, she squandered funds on exorbitant unnecessities. She was always buying one jewellery or the other, one dress or the other, too lost in competing with the women of the ton, to pay heed to her husband’s self-destructing ways and command a change. The way Jane saw it, they were simply birds of a feather. Two blind men who would lead each other to no good.

    She sighed again and turned to take in her chamber. It was just as she remembered it. Her four-poster bed laid in the middle, covered with exotic sheets. The posters were draped with the finest embroidered linen. It was a bed fit for a princess. She had a vanity, carved perfectly from strong, fine wood, alongside the chair it had been delivered with. The wooden floor boards shone underneath her feet, a sofa and a table where she sat to read and have her meal stood just opposite her bed. She had a wardrobe for draping her dresses, and a makeshift bath, in which her tub laid. On the far side of the room, there was her big window, which looked out to the village below. The Village… Eager to see the view she had greatly missed, she walked over to the window and drew up the curtains and draperies. Then, she pulled the lock that held the glass windows to the pane and when it came free, pushed the windows up.

She pushed her head out of it and breathed in the fresh country air with eyes closed. As they filled her lungs, she let out all her weariness in a long stream of air. Her eyes fluttered open in that moment and she looked. It had been five years and it was obvious that a lot had changed. She had noticed that on the ride over, but staring at the view from this point, it was so much more apparent and so beautiful, that it took off with her breath.

    Where there had been bare spaces, there now laid buildings, stalls, houses. When she looked further, she could see the market. The streets were filled with carriages and horses, people walking on their feet. It all looked so small and perfect and despite the activities, quiet. A smile found its way from her heart to her lips and lifted them at each corner. Perhaps, returning here was a blessing in disguise after all. First thing she would do when she recovered from the long journey over from London, would be to go into the Village and the market. She wanted to see how much remained the same and the number of people she would be able to remember.

      She remained by the window for a long time and when her eyelids began to drop, she got up from the chair she had drawn closer and walked over to her bed. Not bothering to take off the clothes she had travelled with, she fell onto her bed and gave into exhaustion.

    Jane awoke the next day, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated- not that she had slept from that moment the day before up until now. She had been awoken for dinner and had had her bath, changed into a night dress, before calling it a night. This morning, she felt so much better. The noise from the streets filled her ears and she instantly made the decision to make that tour into the village. She rung the bell by her bedside and a while later, a knock was heard by the door.

    You may enter, she called out.

    The door creaked open and a maid entered. That was when she saw who it was. Happiness filled her heart the minute she recognised Abigail, one of the few friends she had had in her childhood. Abigail had been working alongside with her mother, Regina, when Jane had lived here. She had been too tired the day before, to ask of her.

    Abigail! she squealed, jumping out of her bed. That was the only warning the maid got before Jane crushed her into her arms, in a warm embrace.

    I cannot believe my eyes! she exclaimed as they pulled away. It is you! she regarded Abigail in awe, just as the girl did the same, identical grins on their faces.

    Who else would it be, Lady Jane? Aye. It is me. When word arrived that the lord will be moving into the house for a while, I hoped that you would be returning with them. Word of your marriage never came, so I was uncertain if you would be married or not. I am sorry I could not be here on your arrival. Mother took ill a few days ago and I have been attending to her. I received the message only yestereve, that you had arrived with them. By the time dawn arrived, I was well on my way over, eager to see you. The girl paused and suddenly bowed her head, while she fondled her fingers. Then, in a low voice, she added, I was afraid you would not remember me.

    Jane’s eyes widened at this. How could Abigail think that she would ever forget her? They had had the best moments together. Then, deciding to tease, she stepped back and squinted her eyes as she appraised her. Abigail remained as she had remembered her.