Laird of Longing: Regency Romance

by Tammy Andresen

  It would be a while before Hughes arrived, but they needed to make their trap perfect.

  But when midnight came and went, Hughes hadn’t arrived. The group of players, all in on the ruse, sat half-heartedly playing a hand, waiting for the real event to begin. Ewan grew more concerned with each passing hour, his stomach twisting into knots even as his muscles tightened. Had the plan gone wrong with the very first step?

  And when one in the morning arrived, Ewan stood, looking at Devonhall. “Send word if he comes. I’m heading back to the docks.”

  Devonhall stood too. “Are you certain? It’s not unusual for men to arrive after a ball or a party. He might yet come.”

  Ewan shifted. “Perhaps I’ll return but I want to check on my…” He didn’t finish, knowing that the man would likely scoff.

  But instead, Devonhall smiled. “I understand completely. I’ll send word if he arrives. Go see how Sophie fares.”

  With a nod, Ewan slipped out the back of the club and started for the docks again. His apprehension didn’t lessen, however.

  He needed to hold Sophie in his arms again and know that she was safe.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sophie drifted off to sleep.

  She hadn’t meant to, but Eliza and Menace had taken to speaking in soft tones quietly in the corner. Her head had dipped as she sat at the table.

  Menace had told her to go to bed, but somehow it didn’t seem right to sleep with two other people in the room and Ewan out there facing danger on her behalf.

  She’d been fighting sleep for the last two hours. But the quiet and the dark were making her eyes heavy, and she snapped them open again, determined to stay awake.

  Which is why she heard the creaking of the deck boards as someone crossed the wooden planks. She sat up straighter, cocking her head.

  The sailors moved about all day and all night, it wasn’t odd per se. But since they’d docked, it had been quiet. The men were either sleeping, enjoying the lack of duties, or on shore celebrating.

  Sophie stood to listen more closely. Had Ewan returned? Was one of the sailors coming back from a night at the bar?

  Menace stood too, Eliza following suit. “What is it?” she whispered into the dark. They had no candles lit. No one was to know Sophie was here.

  But no one answered as the knob to the door rattled. Menace crossed the room, stepping in front of her as he blocked the door.

  Eliza’s arms slid around her, pulling her even further into the shadows as the locked knob rattled again.

  Was it Ewan?

  But the person on the other side did not call out. Hadn’t answered. Ewan surely would have announced himself. Instead, silence fell for a second and then another and then a deafening crash filled the room as the door smashed inward.

  A scream ripped from Sophie’s throat as two men lunged at Menace. She heard flesh hitting flesh and then someone was rushing toward her and Eliza, the other woman stepping in front of Sophie.

  She only had a moment to contemplate the selflessness of Eliza’s act before she was thrust to the side and rough hands wrapped around Sophie’s arm.

  The way they felt, she knew who they belonged to. Who had grabbed her. A scream clogged her throat as she attempted to pull away. “Hughes,” she gasped.

  “You thought you could run from me,” he snarled as he dragged her toward the door. Another man wrestled with Menace on the floor.

  The last time, she’d been his victim, powerless to stop what was happening. But she would be braver, stronger this time and with a giant heave, she ripped herself from his hand, grabbing the wooden chair. He reached for her, catching her waist, but she swung around, catching his shins with the hard seat. She heard his yelp of pain and after a moment’s victory, he came back at her, slapping her face with a force that stole her breath.

  She’d not caught it when he grabbed her legs, throwing her over his shoulder, the sharp edge of his bone knocking into her soft stomach and making her groan in pain.

  She had to get free. If he left with her, she was afraid she might never make it back.

  But as she tried to struggle, he only tightened his grip. They were making their way out the door and Sophie grabbed onto the wood of the frame, doing anything and everything to delay their progress.

  She was losing, though, and she could feel the strength leaving her fingers as he tugged harder, tightening his hold on her back, pushing the air from her lungs. She struggled to draw in a breath, to keep her hold on the wood. To stay on Ewan’s ship.

  And then, just as suddenly as it had started, she was falling off his shoulder, only her grip on the wood keeping her from crashing to the floor.

  Her head banged into the frame, and dimly she heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh, but the world was growing black and hazy.

  She slid down, her rump landing on the hardwood. She started to close her eyes when Ewan’s voice filled her head. “Stay with me, lass.”

  Had she imagined it?

  But as she blinked her eyes open again, there he was, filling her vision. “You’re here.”

  “Ye don’t think I’d let him take ye, do ye? I told ye. I’ll always keep ye safe.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes as she wrapped her arms about his neck. “I love you, Ewan.”

  “I love ye, too,” he whispered back, lifting her into his arms. Hughes was a crumpled ball on the floor and Menace appeared in front of them, looking battered and bruised, but he’d clearly been victorious over his attacker.

  “I would have caught him,” Menace grunted even as Eliza stepped into his arms. “He’d not have escaped with her.”

  Sophie tucked her head against her husband. “I’ve every faith in you, my lord. But all the same…” She looked at her husband. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “I’m glad too,” he said. “Menace, are you well enough to fetch the Bow Street Runners?”

  Menace gave a single nod. “Of course.”

  “Let’s tie these two up first.” Ewan guided her to a chair and helped her sit. Her head began to ache terribly, but as she looked down at Hughes, she smiled. The man was about to go to jail. Meanwhile, she’d married the love of her life. She’d suffer through a bump on the head for that.

  She watched Ewan’s sure hands as he used rope to secure the two men. Belatedly, she realized the other was Mr. Tidemore. No wonder Hughes had come straight to the ship. Thanks to Mr. Tidemore, he’d known exactly on which ship she’d be waiting.

  “What’s next?” she asked, staring down at the two men who’d just tried to take everything from her.

  “They’ll go to prison. Ye can’t just take a man’s wife.” He growled. “And I’ll pull all the evidence I can to see that he’s punished fer other crimes.” He gave her a long look. “And…I’ll talk to yer father. See if I can garner his support.”

  “And if you can’t?” she asked, her hand coming to her throat.

  He gave her an easy smile. “Ye’re my wife, Sophie.”

  She slid to the floor, where he knelt next to Hughes, who still had not stirred. “What if he insists the match isn’t legal and I must be returned to his charge?”

  “He can disown ye, but if what ye say is true, he won’t cause the scandal. I’ll convince him.”

  She pressed her head to his shoulder. “I love you, Ewan McLaren.”

  His lips brushed the top of her head. “I love ye too, lass.”

  Three days later…

  Sophie sat in her parents’ drawing room, staring at the walls that were so familiar and yet had become strange.

  Her old wardrobe had been handed over by her parents, now neatly tucked into Ewan’s townhome, and she’d dressed in one of her finest silk gowns for this dinner with her parents.

  Ewan sat next to her, relaxing into the seat.

  He’d spoken to her father two days prior and though Ewan hadn’t told her specifically what had been said, she knew they’d have another wedding in two weeks’ time. One in a church in England, sanctioned by
her parents, and giving Ewan all his due rights as her husband, including her dowry.

  “How did you convince my father again?” she asked as they waited for her parents to arrive. She initially hadn’t asked many questions, relieved her father had consented. But now she was about to see them, and she had no idea what sort of greeting she would receive.

  Ewan chuckled. “I simply pointed out the benefits of accepting me as a son-in-law, especially with the Hughes scandal about to break.”

  Sophie lifted her brow. “Are you going to tell me exactly what you said?”

  He quirked a brow. “I only reasoned with yer father. There’s nothing else to say.”

  “Menace and Devonhall, did they attended the meeting too?”

  He gave a single nod. “They were only meant to represent the family ye’d be marrying into. They didn’t need to say a word.”

  Sophie shook her head. She could only imagine how her father had faced three formidable men. He’d never been the most assertive man.

  Her parents entered the room and Sophie stood. How would her mother and father greet her after the way she’d left?

  But as her mother wrapped Sophie into her arms, she stopped worrying. Backing away, she looked at her father. “Papa.”

  “Sophie,” he replied with a short bow. His eyes didn’t quite meet hers, but his tone was civil. He didn’t explain and she didn’t ask. She wasn’t certain they’d ever be close again, but at least he’d consented to her match with Ewan here in England. That was enough.

  Ewan’s hand came to her back. “Shall we discuss the details of the wedding?”

  Her father straightened. “It would be proper for Sophie to live here in the interim.”

  Ewan’s hand tightened. “My wife stays with me. I told ye, it’s not negotiable.”

  Sophie’s eyebrows lifted. They’d just talked? She was certain her formidable husband had done most of the talking. “We’re being very discreet, Papa. We mostly stay in.”

  Ewan chuckled at that and she knew why. They spent hours in bed, and the rest talking endlessly. They’d hardly left the house.

  Her mother cleared her throat. “Of course, dear. Now tell me. What gown shall you wear?”

  Sophie didn’t care a wit. She was next to Ewan. Exactly where she belonged.

  Epilogue

  Sophie stood outside the church waiting to enter.

  Inside, her closest family had gathered, along with all of Ewan’s cousins and their husbands.

  Even the Duke of Devonhall’s brother, the Earl of Baxter, was in attendance.

  She’d no idea how a duke’s brother might be an earl, but it was a story she couldn’t wait to hear.

  But not today. Today was for her and Ewan. Their second wedding. She’d call this their real wedding but the first had been just as meaningful. It had changed her life. She’d found love, happiness, and a beautiful future.

  Though she was glad they were marrying again. This time, they’d stand in front of all their family and a few friends to declare their match in front of all of England.

  She’d left London ruined and she returned…the luckiest woman on the island.

  That thought made her laugh and her father gave her a peculiar look as he held out his elbow. They’d barely spoken since her return, but at least publicly, he’d supported her.

  She could be angry, but that sort of bitterness ruined and destroyed. Hadn’t Ewan’s past taught her that?

  So instead, she threaded her hand through his arm. “Thank you.”

  He grimaced then. “Sophie.”

  Her breath caught as she looked at him. Would he berate her for running away? Chastise her for nearly ruining their family? “Yes?”

  “I,” he took a breath. “I’m sorry.”

  That took her by surprise and blinked several times as she tried to formulate a response. “You are?”

  He nodded. “After you left, your mother…” He stopped, looking down at his shoes. “She pointed out my mistakes.”

  That made Sophie warm. Her mother had stood up for her and her father had listened. “I understand. I always have. But I hope you understand what I did too.”

  He shook his head. “It was so dangerous.”

  She heard the worry in his voice, and that made her glad she’d approached this conversation with understanding. “I know. But fortunately for me, fate intervened. And here we are.”

  “He loves you, doesn’t he?” her father asked.

  “He does,” she smiled. “And he’s waiting.”

  With a nod, they started into the church. The organ began to play. Her gaze cast about the room. Her mother was at the front, of course.

  Isabella and Devonhall next to her. Devonhall’s brother and wife behind them.

  Eliza and Menace sat just on the other side, her other two sisters, Abigail and Emily, along with their husbands. And in the back, a man whom Sophie didn’t recognize. But as several of the women glanced at him, Sophie knew he was somehow connected to the Carrington sisters.

  She forgot all of them as she looked at Ewan standing at the front of the church. Handsome and larger than life, he stole her breath as she floated toward him.

  And when he took her hand, the rest of the world melted away.

  The ceremony washed over her, the candles and incense adding a romantic glow that filled her heart even as they both repeated their vows.

  And when his lips met hers, Sophie knew she was home. In his arms was exactly where she belonged.

  The entire assembly made their way to Ewan’s townhome where a wedding breakfast was being served. Her parents had offered but Ewan had insisted on hosting. Much of the guest list was his, he’d maintained. He hardly knew what to do with all this new family, why should her family be saddled with them?

  Sophie had laughed at the time he’d said it, but as they assembled in the salon, she began to understand.

  The Carrington sisters had gathered in a cluster, their whispers evident as they stared at the only guest that Sophie didn’t know. The older gentleman.

  She cleared her throat as she approached them and Abigail immediately drew into their cluster. Eliza threaded an arm through hers as they bent their heads tight together.

  Clarissa, Baxter’s wife, had joined them too and she winked at Sophie. “You’re just in time.”

  “For what?” Sophie asked.

  Isabella leaned close, her finger discreetly pointing to the corner and the lone man. “That is our father.”

  “Oh,” Sophie’s eyes widened in surprise. No wonder they were having a summit in the corner.

  Ewan had invited his uncle, the Carrington sisters’ father.

  “We’re attempting to decide what to do,” Abigail said with a roll of her eyes. “We’re split as to whether we ignore him, hit him, or invite him to join us.”

  “Who is in favor of what?” another woman asked. Tall, with ebony hair, she was so beautiful that Sophie nearly gasped in surprise. “And apologies. I am the Viscount of Easterly’s wife, Gabriella. We’ve only just arrived, our journey was delayed.”

  She gave a curtsy. “A pleasure.” Then she turned to Isabella. “And Gabriella is correct. We must know. Who is in favor of what?”

  Eliza raised her brows. “I’d like to land a solid punch square between the eyes.”

  The women all giggled at that.

  Emily shook her head. “He’s still our father and he was attempting to protect us in his way.”

  But Isabella stood taller. The women quieted as she looked across the room. “He left us when we needed him most.”

  Sophie reached for her friend’s hand. “I understand.”

  Isabella’s gaze met Sophie’s, the duchess’s eyes widening. “I know you do.”

  “Today I told my father that I forgave him because…” She drew in a breath. “Because Ewan was nearly torn apart with anger and selfishness. I’ll not raise my children with bitterness in my heart.”

  The other women looked back at her until Eliza let
out a long sigh. “Fine. Invite him over here. I can’t promise I’ll be as kind as Sophie, but I’ll not hit him. That’s all I can say and mean.”

  Sophie grinned as she broke from the group and started for their guest. Today was a day of new beginnings…

  Ewan stood with the men and watched his wife cross the room to speak with his uncle. Lucas Carrington had made mistakes. There was no denying that, but as he watched his wife work to heal the wounds between the man and his daughters, Ewan’s heart swelled with love and pride.

  Of course, Sophie was working to heal wounds. His wife had the most generous heart of anyone he’d ever met.

  And he was the luckiest man in England or Scotland to have her as his bride. How had he ever resisted? Thank the lord he’d come to his senses.

  “I’ll be damned,” Menace muttered as the ladies quietly greeted their father. “I did not see that coming.”

  “Bold move, inviting him,” Infamy said.

  Ewan shrugged. “He’s my uncle and the owner of the business that makes us all rich.”

  The men silently accepted his reasons as they watched their wives greet their father.

  When no voices were raised, they returned to the topic they’d been discussing, the Den of Sins.

  “Any ideas?” Devonhall asked.

  Ewan was not part of the club and had no opinion on the matter. Devonhall, however, had requested he attend the meeting. In the duke’s words, Ewan could be the impartial voice of reason as they attempted to decide what to do with the club.

  As they were married and starting families and they’d added Carrington Shipping to the list of assets that required managing, an illegal gaming hell no longer seemed prudent.

  But the question was…what did they do with the club?

  They couldn’t very well advertise the business in one of the London papers. They could just shut it down, of course. But it was one of the most popular of its kind. It was an asset, just the same.

  But it required the right kind of hands to manage it discreetly.

  “Anyone have a lord in mind to take over?” Devonhall tried again when no one answered.