Strombridge, 1816
Massive coughing wracked the body of the deathly thin woman on her sickbed. Agnes sighed as she wiped her mouth with her handkerchief. It was no longer a thing of surprise to see blood mixed with her spittle.
She was dying, and she knew it. As she lay back upon her satin pillows, looking as white as death with her ragged breathing, she recalled what Dr Camden had said.
The crushed expression on his face had told its own story. After examining her, he had shaken his head repeatedly.
“It’s not looking good,” he had finally informed her.
“Oh, please, Camden. I’m not a child. Tell me without mincing words how bad it is,” she had snapped at the man with a sour countenance.
Dr. Camden, still shaking the mop of grey hair on his head, had rubbed his chin before casting wary eyes on her.
“I reckon you have at most a few weeks to live. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do to save you. The ailment has eaten deep in your body.”
Well, she had asked for it. Years of hiding her emotions had kept her from bursting into uncontrollable tears. Even as her lips had quivered, she had hidden it behind her handkerchief.
“Very well,” she had said. “I’ll put things in order before my demise. Thank you for your honesty.”
The doctor had nodded, put back his tools in his wooden box, and left. That was over a month ago. She had been confined to her sickbed ever since. Her lawyer had been called to make the appropriate arrangements.
Another bout of coughing wracked her body. The bed creaked heavily as she moved back and forth, willing the painful pangs to stop.
A sigh left her lips when it finally came to an end. Sometimes, she wished death would just take her so that she could stop going through such pains. But that would mean leaving her nephew too soon.
Tears smarted her eyes, and she hastily brushed them back. A fulfilled life she had lived. Married to the man of her dreams, she had experienced love until death took him away at a rather young age. After sizing up the male population, she had decided she wouldn’t remarry come what may. Instead, she had devoted her time in taking care of her nephew and traveling. Three countries, two continents; not everyone could boast of that.
Her only regret was that she wouldn’t see her dear Hudson get married before the cold hands of death took her away. Worry and fear for him kept her awake most nights—including her ailment.
She wished dearly that his proposal to his childhood friend hadn’t been rejected years back. He would have been married, and she would have been blessed to see his children; to carry them on her knees and tell them stories.
A lone tear slid down her pale cheek. Hudson had grown to become a handsome and wealthy man, but she feared he might end up a pauper without her to guide him through life. Strongly did she believe that a wife would be the one to curb her nephew’s excesses. Her fear that he might squander his wealth like some of his peers grew stronger by the day.
“Dear God, please take care of my precious boy,” she murmured as she dashed her handkerchief across her lips.
After a soft knock on it, the door opened silently. The man in question strode into the room, filling it with his presence. She had always known him to be a handsome lad, but at just twenty-two, he had become devastatingly attractive.
As he strode to her bed with long-legged strides, she studied him with fond eyes. At six feet four, he towered over her, staring down at her with those piercing, unreadable blue eyes that reminded her of the ocean. His brown slashing brows creased in a frown. His lithe and lean frame was a testament to his strength. She reached up a thin hand to cup his angular clean-shaven chin as he sat beside her. Just like his ancestors who he shared aristocratic features with, he had deep-set eyes, aquiline nose, and a strong jaw.
“How are you today, Aunt Agnes?” he questioned in his deep masculine tones.
“As well as I can be given the situation,” she answered lightly.
A tightening in his jaw was the only indication he gave that he was troubled by her unfortunate circumstance. He had been doing an excellent job of hiding his distress over her condition, but she saw the worry lines creasing his face at times when he thought she was sleeping, or wasn’t looking.
“I came to inform you that I’m off to London.”
“Oh.”
She hoped to God that he didn’t read the concern in her eyes. Whenever he made a trip to London, she would worry until he got back. A man of his vast wealth—though a lot of people weren’t aware of it—could easily fall prey to a life of debauchery.
He was already seen as a dandy because of his style of dressing. Although she didn’t understand what was wrong with a man preferring to wear trousers to breeches. Hudson was quite a stylish fellow with a clean cravat always tied around his neck.
One of her friends had once compared him to an elegant feline. Agnes had laughed because the woman knew nothing of her nephew. While Hudson was mild-mannered with relaxed moves, he could move very fast when riled. She had witnessed it a number of times.
Most people usually had the wrong impression about her nephew. Society saw him as a libertine, a never-do-well just enjoying his family’s wealth, but they had no idea he was a very brilliant man who had invested wisely and had two inheritances courtesy of his uncle. As the fourth son in his family, he hadn’t amassed great family wealth, but he was doing remarkably well on his own.
Therein lay her fears. The boy had done so well for himself that she feared that he might just gamble it all away. Not that she had heard any rumour about him being a habitual visitor to a gaming parlour, but it took only one visit to get hooked. She should know because her late uncle had done so and lived to regret it.
“I wanted it to be a surprise, but I might as well just tell you now.” Hudson lifted her hand to his lips as a small smile graced his face.
Her brows arched. “What are you talking about, dear boy?”
“A woman has agreed to my proposal. I’m heading to London to get a special license so we can be wed immediately.”
A smile to rival the sun spanned across Agnes’s face. Dear God, this was what she had been praying for, that Hudson would finally settle down and become a man.
***
The bright smile that crossed his aunt’s face made Hudson Danvers believe that all his efforts to get married were well worth it. She clasped her thin hands in his. Tears of joys glazed her eyes, which brought a thick emotion clogging his throat.
It was all for her. Even if he wished he had made another match, seeing how happy his words had made his aunt brought him joy. She was the only woman in the world he would go to the extreme for.
“Hudson, I don’t know what to say,” she finally said in a small voice.
Ever since the illness took over her body, his usual witty and loquacious aunt had shriveled. Observing as the ailment slowly took her away from him, every day was sheer torture. He had done everything he could to try to get her treatment to the unknown sickness all to no avail. No doctor seemed to be able to find a cure. They all shook their heads in sorrow after their examinations.
“Say you’re happy for me,” he told her, raising her hand to his lips again.
Tears spilled down her thin face. “Of course, I’m happy for you. But why didn’t you tell me? You would spring a wife on me? Oh, I suppose I should expect that from you. You’ve been doing that all your life, you naughty boy.”
Hudson smiled. This was the most extended conversation he had had with her in a while. Usually, she was too weak or too sick to talk much. The news of his impending marriage seemed to have brought life into her. Perhaps …
He shook his head. It was too much to hope that his marriage might bring a miraculous recovery. The doctors had been firm in saying that she had very little time to live.
Her hand went up to his chin. “What’s wrong, Hudson?”
Lowering his gaze for her not to see the sorrow in it, he said resignedly, “I wish—”
&nbs
p; She shook her head as she cut him off. “No, don’t do this to yourself. I’ve made peace with my situation. I must confess that I was worried about you, but knowing that you’re about to settle down has given me immense joy. I believe I’ll go to my grave with a smile on my face.”
How this wonderful woman lying before him could be so relaxed about the fact that she was dying was beyond him. Granted, she had lived well, but didn’t she realise that he was going to miss her? He couldn’t bear to think of the vacuum her death would create in his life.
Don’t go! Please don’t die! He wanted to cry. Such behaviour was bound to alarm her because even as a boy, he had rarely shown any emotion. But she had no idea how much he loved her and how much he wanted to please her.
She had taken the position of his mother when the woman who birthed him was laid to rest. His three elder brothers had no inkling of how much she meant to him. They had been independent when their mother died except him who had still needed nurturing. Aunt Agnes had stepped in and given him all the love and attention he needed at such a young age. For that, he would be eternally grateful to her.
“Can I ask you a question, Hudson?”
The seriousness in her tone got him jerking his head. Her intense gaze made him reach out to drag his cravat from his neck. Why did she still have the power to make him feel like a little boy who had done something silly?
At sixty and looking every bit her age due to her ailment, she could still make him squirm under her penetrating scrutiny. Her demure stature had never stopped her from being intimidating when she wanted to be.
Hudson cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck with a lean finger.
“Yes, Aunt Agnes.”
Peering into his eyes as if trying to read his soul, she softly queried, “Are you happy? I mean, are you certain you’ve made the right choice? You were pretty broken when your proposal was rejected years ago.”
Hudson’s lips thinned. He didn’t want to remember the girl who had broken his heart by her rejection. He hastily pushed away the memory.
His aunt had asked a simple but difficult question. It went against the grain for him to fib, but he had to for her sake. If she got to know that she was the primary reason he had settled for his betrothed, she would tell him to call it off immediately.
Deep down inside, he wanted to settle down. However, he wasn’t confident that the girl he had chosen to marry was who he would have picked had he time on his hands. Aunt Agnes, despite a difficult pill to swallow, was dying.
Getting married immediately would put her mind at rest, for he knew that she worried about him. Why? He couldn’t say. In her thoughts, she most likely felt being married with children would make a responsible man out of him.
Hudson didn’t think so. He knew quite a number of his peers who were married yet a great disappointment to their families.
“If it’s taking so long for you to answer my questions, mayhaps I should be concerned.”
His aunt’s words cut into Hudson’s thoughts. He smiled sheepishly at her. She gave him the stern eye, which got him reeling with laughter. He kissed her hand.
“Aunt Agnes, you have nothing to worry about. I chose a beautiful young woman who will bear my sons.”
“And are you happy?” she pressed, regarding him intently.
Searching his soul, Hudson couldn’t possibly claim joy at the proposed union. The girl had fit his prospects of a wife, and her father had readily and gladly accepted his proposal. Time couldn’t be wasted courting her, and so, he had offered for her immediately.
“Yes, Aunt Agnes. I’m happy,” he answered, hoping his voice was steady enough for her not to think otherwise.
She smiled. “That’s all I want, Hudson; your happiness.”
He nodded, avoiding her gaze as pain squeezed his chest. Losing his aunt would surely devastate him beyond words.
“Do I know her? What’s her name? What family is she from?”
Hudson shook his head. “You’ll get to know all that very soon, Aunt Agnes. All in good time.”
She smiled again. “I can rest easy now, knowing everything will be well with you.”
As Hudson descended the staircase to get to the front door, his aunt’s words came back to him. Although he had feigned happiness at his settling down, he wasn’t sure if everything would indeed be well with him.
A knot had formed in his chest that he couldn’t seem to shake off. His bride to be was beautiful, from a good home, and had a large dowry; although that was insignificant to him. He didn’t quite understand why he felt ill at ease with the union.
Maybe it’s just my mind, he surmised when he couldn’t come up with an explanation for the feeling of dread running through his body.
Hudson nodded at the butler, who opened the door. His carriage was already positioned in front of the house when he descended the stairs. He paused and turned to stare at the white Elizabethan manor he had grown up in. Nostalgic feelings hit him, which drove a wedge up his throat.
Sighing, he turned and swung swiftly into the carriage to relax on the padded seat. As the horses rode away from the grounds of his familial estate, Hudson’s heart beat a rapid thud against his chest. When next he set foot in Strombridge, he would be a married man.
Chapter 3
Tempest warily eyed the younger woman who was looking quite fetching in a sea blue pastel and high-waisted gown which made her ample bosom prominent and emphasised her thin waist. Her shining blonde hair was caught in a chignon at the base of her neck.
The only similarity the two cousins shared were their height. They were both petite, standing at 5’6, but that was about it. While Valerie was blonde with blue eyes and with somewhat of a voluptuous figure, Tempest was a redhead with brown eyes and a slim frame.
They were both quite beautiful in their own right. But while Valerie’s beauty was the first thing one would notice about her, Tempest was a cool and classic beauty with a high forehead, a patrician nose, high cheekbones, and full lips.
In character, they also differed. Tempest was independent and hardworking, Valerie was selfish and manipulative. The younger woman made sure she got her heart’s desires irrespective of how it affected anyone around her.
Ignoring her cousin for a moment, Tempest settled herself on one of the brocade sofas in the drawing room. Seemingly unperturbed, she arranged the skirt of her dress across her legs.
“Didn’t you hear me, Tempest?” Valerie asked as she paced on the Aubusson carpet by the windows.
Elevating her head, Tempest asked, “What has you in despair, Valerie?”
“I’m to be wed,” the girl answered sharply.
Oh, dear. I’m going to have my ears filled again about the benefits of marriage. But wait, why is she in despair if she’s to be married? Something isn’t right.
Coolly, Tempest said, “Congratulations.”
“You can’t congratulate me.”
Tempest’s brows lifted. “Oh! Why ever not? Isn’t it what you’ve always wanted? To hand over your wealth to a man in exchange for being his personal slave?”
Valeria paused in her stride to fix angry eyes on her cousin. “How dare you describe the beauty of marriage in such a horrid manner?”
Tempest simply shrugged. She wondered why her cousin was looking at her in such a scandalised manner. She had never made excuses for her distaste of the so-called holy matrimony.
She wasn’t being harsh or anything of that nature. Realism was what she usually employed when dealing with such matters. She was a firm believer that women were the losers when it came to marriage. That fact had never been hidden from Valerie.
The Irresistible Lady Behind the Mask: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 2
