Weddings and Scandals: Regency Romance Collection

by Alec, Joyce

  Francis heard Henrietta begin to sob and, ignoring Lord Chaucer completely, turned around to face her.

  “You must not listen,” he said, grasping both of her hands in his. “I can protect myself.”

  Lord Chaucer snickered. “Is that so?” he asked, as Francis’ jaw clenched tight. “Can you constantly be on your guard? Can you be certain that your staff does not contain a footman that is loyal to me and not to you?”

  Henrietta gasped, pulling one hand from Francis’ grip and covering her mouth in fright. Sobs shook her frame, her eyes glassy as she stared at Francis.

  “I must go,” she whispered, her hand dropping to her side. “Oh, Francis, I cannot bear it!”

  “No.” He took her hands again, looking deeply into her eyes and trying to find a way to have her trust him. “I am not afraid of Lord Chaucer.”

  Lord Chaucer laughed darkly. “But what of Miss James? What of Lord Wickton?” He turned, gesturing towards them. “You need not pretend to be absent, for I am more than aware of your presence here.” Turning back to Henrietta and Francis, Lord Chaucer’s voice darkened. “Can you truly allow them all to be in danger, Henrietta? Can you truly be so selfish that you would put your own happiness before their own?”

  Tears spilled from Henrietta’s eyes. “I must go to him,” she whispered brokenly. “I cannot allow this threat to stand.”

  “No, no!” Francis began to grow desperate, holding onto Henrietta’s hands tightly. “I cannot allow you to do this, Henrietta.”

  “But I must.” A sad smile caught her lips as she slowly drew one hand away from his, reaching up to brush her fingers down his cheek. “I meant every word I said, Francis. I do love you, but it is because of that love that I must now return to my husband.”

  Francis shook his head, desperation rising up within him. “But what will he do to you, Henrietta?” he asked, feeling her slowly begin to move away from him. “Will he continue to use those threats to have you do as he and your father have planned?”

  She closed her eyes, tears dampening her cheeks. “Most likely, yes,” she admitted, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “And yet, it must be so.”

  Francis could find nothing more to say, his heart breaking into pieces as Henrietta stepped away from him. He wanted to reach out after her, wanted to stand between her and Lord Chaucer so that she could not do as she had decided, but he knew he could not. The freedom she had so desperately sought meant that he had to allow her to depart, even if he did not want her to do so. He could not force her, would not force her, even though their hearts were slowly shattering within them.

  “There we are,” Lord Chaucer said, grinning darkly as Henrietta slowly began to make her way towards him. “You have learned obedience, it seems.”

  Henrietta’s face was set and she wiped her tears away. “I have your word, Lord Chaucer, that you will not harm any of them?”

  Lord Chaucer spread his arms out wide, a mocking look of upset on his face. “My wife does not trust me?” he asked, sneering. “My dear Henrietta, if you obey and do as you are asked without question, then you shall have nothing to fear as regards your friends’ safety.”

  Francis closed his eyes, his heart painful as Henrietta let out a long breath.

  “Then I shall go with you,” she said, making Francis want to weep. “Only pray leave them entirely alone.”

  Opening his eyes, Francis saw Lord Chaucer grasp Henrietta’s arm painfully, making her wince. He battled against the urge to run to the man, to remove him from Henrietta, seeing the pain in her eyes.

  “I think you ought to step aside, Lord Wickton, Miss James,” Lord Chaucer grated, the knife still in his hand. “My wife and I must go above stairs now and you are already overstaying your welcome.” He glared at them both, marching Henrietta towards the door. “Be gone from my house or I shall have you forcibly removed.” Throwing a glance over his shoulder towards Francis, Lord Chaucer gave him a triumphant look, his eyes flaring with arrogance. “You too, Newton,” he said, as Henrietta pulled the door open. “Take one last look at Henrietta, for you shall never set eyes upon her again.”

  So saying, he shoved Henrietta out of the door and followed her immediately, a cackling laugh filling the room.

  Francis groaned and dropped into a chair, his head in his hands. He had been so foolish, unable to realize the truth until it was much too late. Lord Chaucer had restrained him, leaving him entirely unable to reach Henrietta and warn her of her husband’s reappearance. As he had sat there in Lord Chaucer’s study, bound and gagged, he had yearned for her, desperate to reach her and tell her the truth of what he felt before it was much too late.

  But he had been unable to save her. He had been unable to stop Lord Chaucer from declaring himself the victor. It was all at an end.

  “Newton.” Lord Wickton’s voice was low and filled with sadness. “Newton, what can we do?”

  “Nothing.” Hopelessness filled Francis as he looked up at his friend, seeing the paleness of his face and the way that Miss James wrung her hands. “There is nothing we can do.”

  “But there must be something!” Miss James exclaimed, looking caught between anger and pain. “She cannot be allowed to return to such a fiend! Knowing what they will do to her, how can we stand aside?”

  “It is her choice to make,” Francis said heavily, lowering his head back into his hands. “I can think of nothing else to do, Wickton. If you have any sort of consideration, any sort of answer, then please speak of it now. Else we shall have to remain in misery whilst Henrietta endures the punishment she is certain to face at her husband’s hands.” His heart twisted with grief, closing his eyes tightly as he tried to think of what to do.

  And then, a scream, loud and long, rang through the air, followed by the most tremendous crash. The whole house seemed to shake, forcing Francis to his feet at once.

  He did not hesitate but ran from the room, swiftly followed by Charlotte and Wickton.

  “Henrietta!” he shouted, seeing the butler standing at the bottom of the staircase, his face white. “Henrietta!”

  What had Lord Chaucer done to her?

  13

  Henrietta had been absolutely terrified as her husband had dragged her up the staircase, her feet tripping over themselves with every step she took. She had lost all sense of strength, weakness robbing her of her courage and fortitude. It was not that she regretted making her decision, for to save Francis, Charlotte, and Wickton from Lord Chaucer’s vile intentions was the only thing she could have done. However, the fear of what now lay in store for her at the hands of Lord Chaucer was overwhelming her entirely, a silent scream lodged in her throat.

  “Do hurry up,” Lord Chaucer growled, his fingers digging painfully into her arm. “You shall do as you are told, else I shall renege on my promises.”

  Shuddering violently, Henrietta tried to wrench her arm away and, just as they reached the top of the staircase, managed to do so.

  “You promised that should I come with you, you would not go near them,” she whispered, backing away from Lord Chaucer slowly. “You cannot go back on that promise now.”

  Lord Chaucer leered at her. “Oh, but I can, Henrietta. I shall use that threat over and over, if I have to. Never doubt that I shall do whatever I must to have you obey me. I shall bring back Francis’ finger and place it on your lap if you do not follow me at this very moment.”

  Henrietta felt sick, one hand pressed hard against her stomach. Lord Chaucer was as cruel and as vile as she had thought him. He would use the threat of harming Francis, Charlotte, and Wickton as often as he pleased, knowing that she would do anything to protect them.

  “No,” she moaned, closing her eyes and trying to force her courage to rise. “I cannot allow you to do so.” Her back bumped against the wall and she forced herself to look back into the furious eyes of her husband. “I cannot live a life where you continually threaten those I care about. I will not allow myself to be treated in such a way, even if I am to be sent
to an institution and lies told about my state of mind. Whilst I am here, whilst I am present with you, I will not permit myself to be treated in such a way.”

  The dark smile faded from Lord Chaucer’s face, his jaw clenching as he waved a finger in her direction, his back towards the staircase. “You cannot turn your back on me now, Henrietta,” he threatened malevolently. “I have you now. You shall never taste freedom again.”

  A vision of Francis rose before her. When she had heard him speak of his love for her, Henrietta had felt such overwhelming joy that it had sent tears to her eyes. A life lived with Francis Newton would be one of happiness, of contentment, and of love. She knew that he would never treat her in the way that Lord Chaucer had done, for his respect and consideration of her were altogether obvious.

  “I will not go with you,” she stated, her courage slowly beginning to build. “I may never be able to find the happiness I seek with Mr. Newton, but I will not allow myself to bear the burden of living as your wife. Your cruelty knows no bounds. I will not subject myself to that.” She lifted her chin, finally feeling strength running through her body, allowing her to stand tall. “If I have to bear every punishment on my body and in my mind until the day that you push me into whatever institution you have chosen for me, then so be it.”

  Lord Chaucer’s face was bloodless, aside from the redness of his lips. He was utterly furious, his ire evident in every single word he spoke.

  “How dare you!” he hissed, taking a step closer to her. “How dare you speak to me in such a manner. I shall have you beaten for this! Beaten until you cannot stand, beaten until you have not even an ounce of strength with which to fight me off!”

  Henrietta caught her breath, seeing the hatred in her husband’s eyes. Knowing that he would do precisely that if he caught her, she moved at once. Hurrying past him, she made to avoid his outstretched hands, his fingers brushing her arm as she did so.

  And then, a scream ripped from his throat. Lord Chaucer, in lunging for her, had lost his balance. He began to tip backwards, his hands reaching for something to help him steady himself, but nothing was there to grasp. Henrietta jerked forward in response, but it was much too late. Lord Chaucer fell backwards down the staircase, his large and heavy body rolling and bouncing until he landed, with a sickening crack, at the butler’s feet.

  * * *

  Three Weeks Later

  “It is done.”

  Henrietta let out a long breath as she stepped out of the carriage and made her way up the stone steps that led to her townhouse.

  “My lady.”

  Henrietta managed a small smile as the butler opened the door for her. Francis had helped her to secure a new butler and two new footmen and maids. She had chosen to rid the house of those who had been so loyal to Lord Chaucer that they had been willing to entrap her with lies. She had not been entirely unfavorable towards them, however, choosing to ensure they each had references so that it would not be difficult to find a new position.

  “Mr. Newton will be joining me presently, as will Lord Wickton and Miss James,” Henrietta said, handing him her hat and gloves. “Show them into the drawing room and have refreshments set out in the dining room.”

  “But of course.”

  Henrietta made her way into the quietness of the drawing room, a slow prickle beginning to make its way up her spine. She dismissed the feeling at once, reminding herself that there was nothing to be afraid of any longer. Lord Chaucer had died and was buried, his body completely broken by his fall down the staircase.

  She had been torn between guilt and fear for a few days thereafter, but having Francis, Charlotte, and Wickton by her side had helped her to shed such feelings, allowing her to see what her life was now to become.

  She was Lady Chaucer still, yes, and would have to give every appearance of mourning her husband for a full year, but that time would go quickly now that she had the chance to live without either fear or terror. It appeared that Lord Chaucer had not made any particular will, with the title passing to some distant relative. The man she had met had been very kind towards her, which was not at all what she had expected. He had allowed her to remain in the townhouse for her mourning period and had even been considerate enough to return her dowry and inheritance from her grandmother to her, so that she might live without fear or poverty. The new Lord Chaucer was to take the estate and, as he had said, set it to rights. Henrietta was quite certain that the new Lord Chaucer would be a significant improvement on the former.

  “Henrietta?”

  The door opened and Francis stepped inside, sending Henrietta a warm smile as he closed the door behind him.

  “Francis,” she breathed, holding out her hands to him. “Oh, it is very good to see you.”

  “I was there for the funeral,” he said gently, pressing her hands. “I was sorry I could not stand by your side during the service, but from what I saw, you managed it very well.”

  Henrietta sighed and nodded, looking up into his handsome face and finding her heart lighten. “My father was there also, although my mother is safely residing with Mary now, which I was so very glad to hear.” She smiled sadly, squeezing Francis’ hands. “My father demanded I return to the family home, but I simply refused to do so.” Lifting her chin, she looked up into his face. “I am a lady of independent means and no longer under his control.”

  “I am sorry that you have had to endure so much difficulty,” Francis replied, leaning closer so that he might look deeply into her eyes. “But you have the strength and courage now to live as you choose.”

  A smile caught her lips, chasing her sadness away. “Indeed, I do,” she agreed softly. “I was able to inform my father that I would be residing in London and that I would not be returning with him. I also stated that Lord Chaucer had told me all that had been planned, and did mention that a letter or two had been discovered. The fear on his face was immediate.” She sighed again. “I do not think he will attempt to cajole me any longer.”

  “You deserve to live your life as you choose,” Francis replied fervently. “You have the year of mourning, yes, but thereafter, the whole world is open to you.” He touched her cheek gently. “You can choose what to wear, where to go, and who to speak to. You can choose your acquaintances, your friends, and your companions.” His fingers ran down the column of her throat, sending a wonderful shiver all through her. “Although I do hope that, when the time comes, you will choose to spend some of your days with me.”

  Henrietta’s eyebrows rose, her gaze fixed on Francis. “You know very well that my heart is yours, Francis,” she answered, as his hand fell to her waist, pulling her closer. “I have never felt such love, such affection, for another before. I cannot think of a life lived without your company. You have taught me so very much, you have helped me through the darkest times and shown me that, if I can only look within myself, I have the courage to make my own decisions.” Her hand settled against his chest, her heart beating frantically with excited anticipation. “How can you think that I would not choose you?”

  Francis let out a long breath, letting go of her so that he might wrap his arms around her waist and pull her close. Henrietta closed her eyes for a moment, her heart filled with such a deep love for the gentleman before her that she felt as though it would spill out from within her.

  “I love you very dearly, Henrietta,” Francis murmured, his breath brushing across her cheek. “You chose to give yourself pain in order to spare me from it. I shall never forget the agony I felt on seeing you leave with Lord Chaucer.”

  “I would have done anything to protect you, Francis,” she whispered, one hand now brushing through the side of his hair before going around his neck. “I would do so again.”

  He smiled adoringly at her. “I pray you do not have to, Henrietta.” Leaning down, he caught her lips with his own in a gentle, tender kiss.

  Henrietta gave herself up to all that she felt, leaning into him and letting her heart soar to the skies. Francis kissed her gently an
d with such tender passion, surrounding her with love.

  “I know that we must wait a year, but permit me to ask you this, Henrietta,” Francis murmured against her lips. “For I cannot bear to wait another moment.”

  Opening her eyes, Henrietta looked up into his. “Ask, Francis.”

  He looked into her eyes and framed her face with his hands. “Will you marry me, Henrietta? Will you be my bride? I will never take your freedoms away, nor will I restrain you or hold you back. I will ensure that you know just how deeply you are loved every single day of my life.” Swallowing hard, he held her close again. “What say you?”

  Henrietta smiled up at him, her heart beating with a certainty that enveloped them both. “I will, Francis,” she whispered. “Of course I will. You have become everything to me. You have helped me to discover a life filled with more happiness and joy than I had ever allowed myself to dream of. I can never turn from you now. Yes, I will be your wife, Francis, knowing that you love me with the same fervent affection that fills my own heart.”

  He kissed her again, his forehead resting gently against her own. “It shall be a happiness that neither of us has experienced before,” he whispered. “I love you most ardently, Henrietta.”

  “As I love you.”

  * * *

  The Viscount’s Mystery

  Weddings & Scandals

  The Viscount’s Mystery

  Text Copyright © 2019 by Joyce Alec