Harlequin Historical February 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

by Virginia Heath

  It was the wrong thing to say.

  ‘Do not judge me or her by your own filthy standards!’ Lord Eastwood roughly dragged him up by his lapels. ‘You are an odious, slimy, pathetic excuse for a man, and you will apologise to this lady now for insulting her! Or I swear to God I’ll rip out that vile, toadying, sycophantic and lying tongue of yours and I’ll make you watch as I feed it to dogs!’

  Rayne’s eyeballs protruded in his reddened face. ‘I am sorry, Faith!’

  But her unanticipated rescuer wasn’t done, nor did he appear the least bit placated by Lord Rayne’s complete and utter capitulation. ‘Nowhere near good enough, you contemptible bastard!’ He shoved the snake away with such force he landed on his bottom again then jabbed the air near his chest with such calm menace, she had the pleasure of hearing the snake whimper. ‘Firstly, she is Miss Brookes to you and you will treat her with the utmost respect! Not that you will ever dare so much as look at her from this night forward, let alone speak—either to her or about her. Do I make myself clear?’

  The snake nodded, clearly terrified. ‘I—I’m s-sorry, Miss Brookes.’ Then his eyes widened into petrified saucers as Lord Eastwood dragged him up by his elbow this time before proceeding to dust of his lapels with quiet, but frankly terrifying restraint.

  ‘And it won’t happen again, will it, Rayne? You’ll never look at her again as if she is a piece of prime horseflesh, or make any lewd and ungentlemanly suggestions, or smear her good character or even dare mention her in a passing comment to another living soul? Including explaining to anyone the real reason how you came to be bleeding all over your shirt.’

  The snake looked ready to burst into tears as he frantically nodded like a woodpecker.

  ‘Because if I even hear a faint rumour that you have broken that promise, then I won’t just tell your poor wife the truth, I’ll also tell your father-in-law and we both know he is unlikely to take it well. There is no telling what he might do to your career to avenge his beloved daughter.’

  Faith could tell by the way all the colour drained from the snake’s face that that threat had hit the mark. ‘You can be assured of my silence.’ Then as a pathetic afterthought, he added, ‘My lord.’

  ‘Then we are done here.’ Lord Eastwood stepped back and for the first time since she had known him, looked every inch the aloof, arrogant and powerful peer. ‘Get out of my sight before I change my mind and pummel you to paste just for the sport.’

  The snake didn’t need to be asked twice. Still clutching his bleeding nose, he scurried back into the theatre as if his breeches were on fire.

  Left alone with her gallant rescuer, shock at what had happened took mere moments to turn to utter shame that he had witnessed this. For the life of her, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say that would make it all sound better either. Mutely, she blinked up at him until she finally found some words. ‘Thank you.’ A lacklustre effort but her mind was still whirring. Because now a third person knew of her dirty secret.

  ‘He shouldn’t bother you again.’ His handsome face was filled with pity. ‘I’m so sorry you had to go through that.’

  ‘My own stupid fault as doubtless you heard.’ The last vestiges of her pride had her squaring her shoulders. ‘Assuming you did hear it all.’

  He didn’t deny it. ‘Would you like me to escort you back via the retiring room so you can fix your face?’

  ‘No…thank you… I would prefer some fresh air.’ She offered him her best approximation of a smile, wanting him gone so she could lick her gaping wounds in private. ‘I shall go back in shortly.’ After she had found a secluded place to curl up into a ball and bawl her eyes out. ‘Thank you again.’ Decisively she turned, hoping he would take the hint but instead he sighed.

  ‘If you think I am leaving you alone, Faith, you have another think coming.’

  ‘Really, I shall be…’ She turned back in time to watch him hail a passing hackney. As it slowed, he opened the door and then gestured inside.

  ‘Come, we’ll ride up and down the Strand while you compose yourself. The last thing you need is for one of the journalists in there to witness you in a blubbering state on the theatre steps in the middle of your mother’s opening night. Especially if they have already spotted Rayne’s nose. They’ll put two and two together and make one hundred and sixty-three.’

  Because he was right and because she really couldn’t muster an argument, she complied, allowing him to help her up and then staring impotently at her hands as he climbed in and sat opposite.

  As the carriage lurched forward, he wafted a handkerchief under her nose. ‘It’s clean. I promise.’

  Faith blew into it as he shrugged out of his coat and wrapped it solicitously around her shoulders, enveloping her in the comforting warmth of his body. Gratefully, she huddled within it, then felt her face crumple as a wave of tears sprung from nowhere, and to her utter disgust, decided to fall in one noisy, soggy rush.

  As ashamed of them as she was of her regrettable affair with the snake, she buried her face in his handkerchief and tried to stem the flow.

  ‘Don’t hold back on my account. I have two sisters, remember, and I learned a long time ago these things are always better out than in.’ He shifted position, and to her mortification, settled in the confined space next to her. She tried to turn her body towards the window, then gave up when his big, solid arm wrapped itself around her quaking shoulders and he gently tugged her to his chest.

  Bizarrely, although that simple kindness made her feel better, as she burrowed against him, strangely grateful for both his presence and his strength, it also seemed to unleash all of the five years of hurt she hadn’t realised she had stored up inside. But out it all came. Each time she thought she was done, a fresh wave hit her and off she went again. Yet all the while, though heaven only knew how many laps of the Strand they did, he held her close, blessedly silent, and rocked her gently while his comforting hand smoothed her hair.

  At some point, the racking sobs must have subsided, because Faith emerged from the fog of pain clutching the sodden front of his shirt, apparently perfectly content to remain wrapped in his arms for ever. In case she did, she dragged herself upright, put as much distance between them on the cramped seat as she could and noisily blew her nose again.

  ‘Feel better?’

  She nodded. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. These things happen.’

  ‘How much of those things did you hear?’

  ‘Enough to work out that you and he were once lovers, and enough to assume it ended very badly.’ He smiled kindly without judgement. ‘Knowing Rayne as I do, I’m inclined to blame him entirely for that.’

  He was being nice. A perfect gentleman, though heaven only knew what he must be thinking. ‘I was nineteen. Very young. Very foolish…’ Faith shrugged and shook her head at the familiar but bitter taste of regret. ‘I thought myself in love.’

  ‘And I presume all this occurred while he was a student of your father’s?’

  She nodded. ‘He was in my house all the time. We often shared the same lessons and then, while Papa left to work on his commissions we practised together and…’

  ‘He took advantage.’

  ‘Only because I let him.’ There was no excuse for her youthful stupidity. Her parents had never shielded them from the harsh truths of the world and her mother, especially, had put much emphasis on the importance of morality, virtue and the sanctity of marriage. She would be devasted if she knew Faith hadn’t heeded all her wise warnings and had gaily skipped into total ruination without a second thought. ‘That makes it all so much worse. Knowing that I encouraged him and he was right, I did not take much seducing all those years ago.’ She risked flicking him a glance. ‘Not my finest hour, Lord Eastwood, but certainly my bitterest regret.’

  ‘I think now that you have soaked my shirt and ruined my handkerchief, you s
hould probably call me Piers.’ He smiled, those intelligent, hypnotic eyes swimming with compassion. ‘And I disagree. We all make mistakes, especially when we think ourselves in love. But be in no doubt, he took advantage, so you should blame him more than you castigate yourself.’

  ‘I gave myself to him. Within a scant few weeks of first meeting him, Piers.’ Mortally ashamed and feeling hideously vulnerable, she dipped her eyes from his astute and compelling gaze.

  ‘You were nineteen. Whereas Rayne is around my age, which means he had at least six years on you, and he used your youth and inexperience to get past your defences.’

  ‘Perhaps but…’

  ‘Did he suggest marriage?’

  ‘Not in so many words.’

  ‘But he made you think he was as giddy about your relationship as you were, didn’t he? He alluded to a future.’

  She nodded, wishing she didn’t feel quite so pathetic and exposed. ‘He used to talk about what our life would be like, about how beautiful our children would be…’ And like the silliest of dolts, she had lain there in his arms drinking it all in, convinced every single honeyed word was the gospel truth with no concrete assurances whatsoever, nor questioning how he had become so adept at ensuring they didn’t also create any children during their brief affair. Thank God! ‘But I do have to give him some credit in this whole sordid debacle. With hindsight, and as much as it galls me to admit it, he genuinely never, ever mentioned marriage.’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Piers was instantly sorry that he hadn’t pummelled Rayne to paste. The temptation to turn the hackney around, march into the theatre and drag the bastard out of his seat to finish the job was so overwhelming, it took all his strength to sit still and not bellow out the window at the driver. Instead he settled on grinding his teeth for a few moments until he could trust himself to speak calmly. He’d been in an uncharacteristic state of high agitation since he saw her pale face in the auditorium and knew, just by the desolate look in her lovely eyes, that something was very wrong. Then he saw her warily glance at Rayne, watched the toad’s heated, possessive stare and his well-honed alarm bells all began to ring.

  ‘Children are usually the result of a marriage, Faith, therefore it is an entirely reasonable assumption for you to have made, so don’t be too hard on yourself. To err is human after all. Not to mention that if he was talking about such things, promising you such things, within a scant few weeks of meeting you, he was hastening you down his path on purposely false pretences, knowing full well he had no intention of ever making good on them.’

  ‘Clearly you already know him too well.’ She laughed without humour, determined to be brave. ‘For it turned out the joke was on me and he was already engaged. Not that he told me that of course. He went off, supposedly to visit his family’s estate for a few weeks in the spring and no sooner had he left, I learned of his upcoming nuptials in The Times one dreadful morning over breakfast.’

  ‘Oh, Faith…’ There were no words which would ever make that better, so he took her hand instead in the faint hope it might absorb some of her pain.

  She laced her fingers in his gratefully. ‘The announcement was apparently just a formality as they had been promised to one another since birth. A fact I might have known had I walked in those same aristocratic circles—but alas, my blood isn’t blue enough for Almack’s.’ The proud, stoic way she tried to minimise what must have been a bitter blow from a cruel and calculated betrayal broke his heart.

  ‘The snake was married by the time he came back to town that autumn and, it turned out, was completely unrepentant for his shoddy behaviour when I called him on it. Future Earls had to marry well, he said, and certainly he could never ever consider a woman like me. He pretended to look contrite when he said that he assumed I understood that, he even helpfully outlined how it broke his heart that my dubious parentage and bohemian upbringing would make any sort of legal union with a decent gentleman impossible.

  ‘But to add more insult to injury and to spoil his fake contriteness, he was also quite adamant that he saw no earthly reason why our affair couldn’t continue or be able to think why I was angry at the suggestion that it should. He even argued that most married peers kept mistresses, as if that made his inappropriate proposal all the more acceptable. Then he offered to rent me a little house close to my parents in Bloomsbury and had the gall to look insulted when I slapped his face.’

  Obviously ashamed and embarrassed by this admission she released her hand from his and turned to stare at the dark street out of the window, her expression so bleak he could hardly bear it. ‘An offer he repeated tonight for the first time in five years.’

  ‘Well, he won’t be making it again!’ The way the scoundrel had spoken to her, the complete lack of respect, had fired Piers’s temper on a visceral level he had never experienced before. He had never been one for violence, never understood why some men felt the need for it when he firmly believed that most things could be better sorted through a reasoned debate. All that went out the window when he saw her pain, and when he had felt the crack of Rayne’s bone against his fist, he had revelled in it. He still did and sincerely hoped the despicable scoundrel’s nose was broken. He deserved all that pain and more for doing what he had done. ‘He wouldn’t dare!’

  ‘Only because he assumed I am your mistress now instead… Which I suppose makes some sense of it all, so out of the blue.’ A deep furrow appeared between her eyebrows. ‘At first, I couldn’t fathom why he offered it to me again tonight when I’ve barely been civil to him since he betrayed me and have made no secret of the fact that I loathe him. But I suppose, after all the fevered gossip after our waltz, it makes sense. No doubt buoyed by the press’s recent unflattering insinuations about the nature of our relationship, he assumed I was in the market for another aristocratic protector—another illustrious viscount—and erroneously thought I’d invite him to warm my bed again if the offer was right.’

  He winced at the truth of it. As she had predicted, she had come out of those ridiculous stories worse, while he seemed to have earned some grudging respect from his peers. More than one of his colleagues in Whitehall had attempted to slap him on the back for his excellent taste in his most recent peccadillo, until he had set them straight with a curt denial. He had assumed he had been protecting her reputation by denouncing the rumours as ridiculous. It had never occurred to him that those denials had inadvertently given other predators ideas.

  He reached for her hand again, needing the contact. Needing her to know he would always be on her side. ‘Oh, Faith, I am so sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. This is hardly your fault.’ She was matter of fact, then she smiled as she stared down at their interlocked fingers. She risked looking at him again, needing to see the verdict in his eyes, not sure whether she wanted his absolution or wanted to punish herself with his understandable judgement. ‘You must think me such a fool.’

  ‘I think you are gloriously human and flawed as all mere mortals always are. We are all fools at some point in our lives, Faith, and normally because we foolishly allow our hearts to rule our heads.’

  ‘Have you?’

  ‘Yes.’ It was his turn to avert his gaze. ‘Catastrophically.’

  She stared at him for the longest time, her lovely eyes questioning, as if evaluating the sincerity of his words. Then, as the penny dropped, she squeezed his hand. ‘You loved your wife, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then why did you divorce her?’

  Piers was desperate to change the subject. Discussing anything to do with Constança and his failings as a husband always left him feeling raw, and churned the acid in his stomach so painfully, he had deftly avoided it even with his own family, but he also knew that if he sidestepped her question, then Faith would lose all her new-found trust in him and he realised that would somehow feel worse.

  ‘Because she asked me to.’ He huffed o
ut a sigh. ‘Portugal is a Catholic country and so her obtaining one there was out of the question.’

  ‘Can I ask why she wanted to divorce you?’

  Because Piers wasn’t anything close to what she wanted in a husband. He was too dull. Too staid. Too occupied by work. Too noble. Too calm. Too English. Too everything and yet never enough. The knot in his throat which had suddenly appeared instantly twisted. ‘She wanted to remarry, and time was of the essence.’

  ‘Ahh…’ He watched her piece it all together before she glanced at him with pity. ‘The child was never yours then? I assume you are absolutely sure of that?’

  ‘As she has remained resolutely in Lisbon and as I have been back here in London for almost two years, I am quite certain. Not that I needed the actual ocean between us to be certain the babe wasn’t mine. She was a stranger in my bedchamber long before we separated…but alas, not a stranger in others.’ He had never fooled himself her new husband had been her only lover during their turbulent three years together, any more than Constança had tried to hide her desire to seek her pleasures elsewhere almost from the outset when she had quickly tired of him.

  ‘Oh, Piers, I’m so sorry.’ Her hand covered his where it rested on his leg. ‘I had no idea.’

  ‘Thankfully, next to nobody here does, and pathetically, I prefer to be thought of as a villain than a victim. Not that either label fits me well. I rashly rushed down the aisle with her within weeks of our first meeting. Stupidly fast because I was caught up in the moment and blinded by passion, and I had never felt like that before so I naively assumed that exhilarating and intoxicating first rush of passion was how it would always be between us. But we were never really compatible, and with the clarity which only hindsight brings, I now realise those heady emotions were not enough to sustain us through anything beyond a brief affair.’