A Bet On Hearts [Regency England Romcom]

Chapter 4: The Imp And The Rascal

March-April 1811

Mr. Royston Langdon possessed all the essentials – wealth, standing, and just the appropriate measure of repute amid the townsfolk of Dover. Marriage was, of course, an option, but it appeared that Mr. Langdon had committed himself long ago – to his vocation as a distinguished architect. He was indeed a master of appearances; arrogant in his talents, benevolent within the depths he concealed, and exceptionally skilled in prompting his dear mother to partake in frequent forehead-creasing endeavours with all the eyebrow-raising he caused.

He was stooped over a grand piece of parchment on that fateful day when the initial letter arrived, donning spectacles upon his nose, and a charcoal stick held in a metal holder clutched between his lips. With deliberate precision, Royston took measurements and carefully jotted down notes on a separate piece of paper. Every detail had to align, every figure had to be precise, for any deviation might invoke the ire of an Earl whose new abode might inadvertently stand askew. The residence could potentially be seen as an avant-garde creation, but if it compromised the structural integrity, his career would be dashed in an instant.

Ordinarily, he could be assured of the sanctity of his grand study, impervious even to his mother's intrusion. However, on that particular day, a delicate knock graced his doors. Royston refrained from uttering a word, in the faint hope that his beloved mother might be deterred from entering, yet his wish proved futile. Evidently, whatever she bore in her thoughts brooked no delay.

"I beg your pardon for this interruption, my dear son, for I am acutely aware of the gravity of your endeavours," she commenced, her voice soft and measured. "However, a missive has arrived, one I deem of the utmost significance."

Royston sighed and reluctantly withdrew the charcoal from his mouth. "And who, pray tell, is the esteemed sender, mama?"

"Miss Mina Haswell," she replied, swift in her response.

His brows furrowed, for he couldn't recollect anyone with this name – not among his friends, adversaries, or acquaintances. It was quite likely that this was yet another lady endeavouring to capture his attention beneath a pen name.

"Since when do love letters become of the utmost importance to me?" Royston inquired, a smug smile gracing his countenance as he marked another number on the paper before him.

Leopoldine Langdon, his esteemed mother who was also called Polly by her relatives and close friends, released a somewhat exasperated sigh. "With your permission, allow me to recite it aloud."

Royston casually waved his hand towards his mother, granting her leave to proceed. "You are most welcome, mother, but I would advise against any shrieks of terror should you encounter passages brimming with the most audacious of claims. I'd prefer to spare your delicate nerves such dramatics," he quipped, shifting his ruler to another section of the house plan he sketched so precisely.

His mother's brow furrowed once more in response to his reply, but it did nothing to sway her determination. "Indeed, I'd be more astonished if there were a single audacious lady willing to pen such lines, given your current reputation as a lifelong bachelor."

Royston responded with nonchalance, "It's the alluring taste of the forbidden fruit that continues to draw them to me."

His mother shook her head in response and proceeded to read Mina's manuscript deliberately, ensuring that every word reached Royston's attentive ears. As she observed his expression shift from a smirk to neutrality and ultimately to irritation, Leopoldine allowed silence to envelop them. She granted her son the opportunity to speak his mind first, though he continued to idly move a ruler across the parchment, further fuelling her exasperation.