Promise of the Earl: Regency Romance (Season of Brides)

by Joyce Alec

  Dorothea managed a small smile. “Yes. The banns have been called, and we will wed soon. We are simply becoming a little better acquainted first.”

  “I quite understand,” Lady Patton replied with a warm smile. “It is always best to have a solid foundation with which to start such a marriage, I think. A foundation of trust, which can then be built upon to create something wonderful.”

  Trust.

  The word tore into Dorothea’s mind, making her suddenly want to weep. She had no one to turn to, no one who could understand what it was she was enduring. Having told Lord Turner only a little of what she knew, she had felt herself shrink inside every time he had looked at her thereafter. Despite Lord Turner’s assurances, Dorothea was afraid to tell him the truth about her father’s demands to know everything they shared between them. Her mind gnawed with fear over why her father insisted she ask about Lord Turner’s scars and the fire that had punished him with its flames. If Lord Turner broke their engagement, she would be ruined in society’s eyes. And yet to do what her father asked would bring about her betrothed’s ruin—she was certain. There was a reason for her father’s determined questions, and yet she was entirely lost when it came to understanding them.

  And, worst of all, she was quite sure that Lord Turner had been close to kissing her that night in the gardens. The way he had held her, the depth of feeling in his eyes had set her heart on fire. Had he lowered his head and made to kiss her, Dorothea knew she would have returned his kiss at once.

  “My dear Miss Earnest, forgive me if I speak out of turn, but I must tell you that I saw your father addressing you just now.”

  Having only just reached the top of the staircase that led to the ballroom, Dorothea turned towards Lady Patton with a gnawing fear burning in her heart. “I…I see,” she stammered, not quite sure what else to say. “My father has something of a temper.”

  Lady Patton smiled softly. “I think, Miss Earnest, if I could venture an opinion, you must make your husband your safe place. Your confidante. To hide from him will bring you no happiness in the end.”

  Dorothea did not know what to say. Lady Patton’s advice was well meant, but she did not know the particulars of the situation.

  “To have secrets will not do either of you any good,” Lady Patton finished, pressing Dorothea’s hand. “Trust me in this, my dear. And if you should wish to talk to me any further, then I insist that you call.”

  “You are truly very kind,” Dorothea replied, blinking back hot tears. “Thank you, Lady Patton.”

  Lady Patton excused herself quickly, and Dorothea was left at the top of the staircase, trying desperately to gain her composure. She did not know what to do and so, fearing that she was about to dissolve into tears, moved quickly away and into a small alcove that hid her from almost everyone.

  “I have the matter in hand!”

  Dorothea froze, hearing the voice of her father as he spoke loudly to someone she could neither see nor hear. He had gone into another room, she realized, and she was now sitting close to the door. It must have been a little ajar for she could hear every word.

  “My daughter is doing as she is told and will ensure our safety.”

  A dark chuckle caught her ears, making Dorothea tremble. “You are quite brazen, Gaines,” the lady’s voice said, her words ringing with laughter and admiration. “And quite wonderful. It is just as well that your stupid daughter has proved herself useful at last.”

  “I told you she would, did I not?” Dorothea heard her father say, as though she were nothing more than a pawn in a game of chess. “Managed to chase all those suitors away rather easily, I must say. No gentleman wants a bluestocking for a wife. And if they did not turn away at that, then I might have suggested that she was, perhaps, a little too free with her affections.” He burst with mirth again, the lady’s tinkling laugh merging with his own brash laughter.

  Dorothea gasped, her hand at her mouth, as her whole frame began to tremble. Her father had always refused to allow her to accept any gentleman’s suit, but she had never realized the extent of his actions in chasing such gentlemen away. To suggest that she was less than pure would have turned away any gentleman’s intentions, but it was the sheer lack of consideration for her own feelings and reputation that broke Dorothea’s spirit.

  “She will be a wonderful spy in Lord Turner’s house,” Dorothea heard the lady gloat, a vision of the unknown woman rubbing her hands together in delight bursting into her mind. “We shall have nothing to fear from him any longer.”

  “And we shall get back everything that we are owed,” her father replied, his own voice low and full of meaning. “Everything. That fire was only the beginning of our revenge.”

  Dorothea felt as though she were about to faint. Her whole world began to spin around her, her body growing heavy as she tried to take in what she had heard. There it was, then. Her father was using her to exact some kind of revenge on Lord Turner. Revenge for what, she did not know, but the horror of what she had just heard tore through her soul.

  Her father had set the fire.

  Her father was responsible for Lord Turner’s scars.

  Her father had done it all, and now he was using her to ensure that Lord Turner never found out. He would use her to steal things back from Lord Turner, to take whatever it was he demanded. Dorothea did not know what it was her father intended to do to her if she did not obey, but knowing what he had done to her in the past, she felt sure that he had every intention of causing both her and Lord Turner the greatest amount of pain he could.

  “No,” she whispered to herself, forcing herself out of the alcove and back towards the stairs. “No, I will not do such a thing. I cannot.” The vision of Lord Turner looking at her with such pain in his eyes broke her apart, recalling just how damaged his heart and mind had already been with what he had endured. No matter what it cost her, she would not play a part in furthering his suffering.

  Stumbling down the staircase, she found herself unable to hold herself up. Whispering Lord Turner’s name, she clung onto the rail, her mind spinning frantically.

  “Dorothea?”

  Slowly, she turned her head and saw Lord Turner’s face come into focus. He was looking at her with complete and utter astonishment, his hands reaching for her. She made to reach for him. She made to speak and confess that she could no longer marry him, but found that her mouth would not work. Instead, her legs slowly began to collapse beneath her as she reached for his hand.

  Strong arms caught her about the waist, holding her upright.

  “Miss Earnest,” she heard him say, the corners of her vision slowly turning to darkness. “Dorothea, whatever is the matter?”

  “Lord Turner,” she managed to whisper, holding onto him tightly. “I am so terribly sorry.”

  “Sorry for what?” he asked, still trying to hold her up. “My dear lady, are you unwell? Whatever has come over you?”

  Dorothea tried to speak but found she had no strength. Slowly, her eyes fluttered closed, and she surrendered to the darkness and to the strength of Lord Turner, the one man she had intended to step away from entirely.

  11

  “Can you speak, Miss Earnest?”

  Slowly, Dorothea’s eyes fluttered open, and she found herself staring into the eyes of a rather strange looking man. He was clad all in black and had a somewhat important air about him.

  Was she dying?

  “Yes,” she whispered hoarsely. “Yes, I am quite all right. I can speak.”

  “Good, very good,” the man replied. “Then drink this, if you please.”

  Dorothea blinked twice, trying to let the rest of the room come into view. Who was this gentleman, and why was he trying to lift something to her lips? Twisting her head away, she closed her eyes tightly as the room spun around her.

  “Do excuse me for a moment and let me explain to Dorothea just what is occurring.”

  Another voice this time, a more familiar voice. Letting out a slow breath, Dorothea saw Lord
Turner’s smiling face coming into her vision. Looking into his eyes, she felt herself breathe a little easier.

  “There is a good deal to explain, but for the moment, you must recover your strength,” he said slowly, taking her hand. “Come this afternoon, we are to wed. It is quite untoward, I know, but under the circumstances…”

  “Circumstances?” she whispered hoarsely. “What circumstances?”

  Lord Turner smiled at her again, although there was a good deal of awkwardness about it. “The banns have been called for the third and final time already, as you are aware,” he said slowly. “Therefore there is no impediment to us marrying. Might we make our vows today, Dorothea? I know it is without pomp and ceremony, but I will be honest and state that I much prefer it that way.”

  Everything was so very confusing. “But why must I marry you here?” she whispered, looking about her. As her strength returned, she realized that she was in a bedchamber where she had never been before. “I do not understand what has happened.”

  The gentleman in the dark suit cleared his throat, clearly a little impatient, but Lord Turner shot him a dark look that silenced him immediately.

  “You fainted last evening, and your father could not be found,” Lord Turner explained apologetically. “I was forced to carry you from the ballroom into a private chamber. In doing so, we spent a considerable time alone.”

  A slow heat began to run through Dorothea’s body. “We did?” she whispered, not recalling anything about what had happened.

  Lord Turner nodded, although he did not appear to be in any way angry about it. “Lady Patton suggested that we send for a vicar, so that it is all done quite properly. I do not wish for a particularly large affair when it comes to marrying, and so I am quite content to do so in Lord Patton’s townhouse, with Lord Johnston as a witness, and Lord Patton too, if he is required.” He gave a small shrug, his lips tugging gently into a rather thin line. “Your father has been sent for, but no one has seen him since yesterday evening. Might you know where he could be?”

  “No,” Dorothea whispered, just as the memory of what she had overheard came rushing back to her, crashing all through her like an icy wave. “Oh, Lord Turner, no. We cannot marry. I–”

  “Do not worry yourself, my lady,” the dark-suited gentleman interrupted, looking rather concerned. “You have been in a deep faint, and it will take you some time to recover.”

  Lord Turner cleared his throat. “I think, Doctor, that she is recovered quite well enough. I will send for you again if I have need of you.”

  Dorothea saw the man bow, although he indicated a small bottle and glass of water next to her bed, to which Lord Turner nodded. Quitting the room, he left it a little ajar, for propriety’s sake. Dorothea slowly sat up a little more, seeing that she was still wearing last evening’s gown.

  “Lord Turner,” she said slowly. “I cannot marry you.” Her stomach dropped to her toes as she spoke, sending waves of nausea all through her.

  “I see,” Lord Turner replied, not sounding in the least bit surprised. “And why is that?”

  She could not answer him for a moment, suddenly realizing just how much she had enjoyed his presence these last weeks. “I think it best that we part, Lord Turner.”

  “That is quite impossible, Dorothea,” he replied gently, taking her hand in his and squeezing her fingers lightly. “You will be quite ruined if you do not wed me, and I cannot allow that to occur.”

  Shaking her head, Dorothea let out a heavy sigh that seemed to shudder out of her frame. To be ruined would be a heavy punishment indeed, but to marry Lord Turner under such circumstances would do bring pain to them both, and she could not allow that.

  “You are much too kind, Lord Turner,” she replied softly. “But once you know the truth of it, I am sure you will want to step away from my side. You see, my father…” She trailed off, her voice growing hoarse.

  Her heart began to ache as she realized that she had become rather fond of Lord Turner and that the thought of separating from him was a painful one indeed. Her breathing was ragged, and even though Lord Turner clasped her hand tightly, she felt herself grow cold.

  “My father,” she continued, her voice barely louder than a whisper as she tried to force the words from her throat. “He…he…he is using me to draw close to you.”

  Lord Turner frowned, although his eyes were alive with interest. “And why is that, Dorothea?”

  Her head began to swim and, for a moment, she thought she might faint again. Bolstering her courage, she turned her head towards him and looked him directly in the eye. She had to tell him what she had discovered, what she had overheard, even though she knew it would push him from her altogether. Her fingers touched his face, but he jerked away, not allowing her, yet again, to brush her hand on his scarred face. She could not blame him, knowing that she would never be near him again once the truth came from her lips.

  “My father set the fire.”

  Slowly, she saw the interest fade from Lord Turner’s eyes, replaced with a growing horror. His hand went limp in hers, his face a little grey, and as she continued to watch him, she saw that sweat began to bead on his brow.

  “I am sorry,” she whispered, aware of just how quickly her own heart was beating. “I did not know the truth of it, my lord, else I would have—”

  He held up one hand, silencing her. “How long have you known this?”

  Swallowing the lump in her throat and aware that his hand was now like a cold, dead fish in her own, she lowered her gaze, feeling hopelessness overcome her. “I overheard him speaking last evening.”

  “Speaking?” Lord Turner repeated sharply. “Speaking to whom?” His eyes were narrowed, as though he were questioning her over some terrible indiscretion that she was now forced to apologize for. Letting out her breath slowly and evenly, Dorothea forced herself to remain calm and tell him everything she knew. “I cannot say, my lord. It was a lady; that is all I know. When I heard him say those words, I am afraid that my composure slowly began to crumble. I wanted to find you. I came below to find you and then…”

  “And then you fainted,” he finished hoarsely. “How very convenient, Miss Earnest. How convenient that I should have no other recourse but to marry you in order to save your reputation. How kind of you to try and convince me that you cannot marry me, knowing full well that unless I do so, you will be quite maligned by society.”

  She caught her breath, one hand now pressed to her mouth as her whole body began to shake. This was not what she had expected Lord Turner’s reaction to be. Did he truly believe that she had done all this purposefully?

  “This is his final revenge, is it?” Lord Turner continued, his voice becoming more of a sneer. “Sending his daughter into my house in order to be my wife, to be my love, when all the while, knowing that it was he who had done this to me!” He gestured wildly towards his face, getting up from his seat and beginning to stride about the room. “What, did he intend to keep laughing behind my back? That he would have his little daughter in my house, able to tell him everything and anything he wished?”

  The truth burned in her heart. Despite the terrifying reaction of Lord Turner and the fear that was in her own heart, Dorothea forced herself to speak. “I am not a willing participant in this, Lord Turner, but you are correct.”

  She saw him still. She saw him turn towards her slowly and fix his gaze on her again. A slight shiver ran over her skin at the way his dark eyes were looking at her, taking everything in, but she pushed the words from her mouth regardless.

  “My father has long asked me to discover what you knew about the fire,” she said softly. “He pushed me to ask you about your scars, but I have always refused to do so. I would not betray you nor hurt you in such a manner, Lord Turner. You must believe me.” Her words had taken on something of a pleading tone. Drawing in another shaky breath, Dorothea forced herself to continue, “I believe he is afraid that you have returned to London with the sole intention of finding the person respon
sible for the fire, which is why he arranged our marriage, so that I might be a spy in your household, able to protect and forewarn him if such a thing were to occur. In addition, I heard last evening that my father intends to use me to take back what he believes you owe him. I do not know what such things are, nor do I know what he is talking of, but that is the truth of it, Lord Turner. He wants me to steal from you once we are wed.” Dropping her head, she passed one hand over her eyes, feeling the tears threaten. “I told myself we could not marry, Lord Turner, for I would not allow myself to be used in such a way. Not when it would bring you so much pain. You have endured enough suffering already, and my heart, which is filled with none but you, will not let me betray you in such a fashion.” Her voice was shaking, her vision blurred with tears, but she forced herself to continue, “I have to refuse you, my lord. It is for your best.”

  There was a long, heavy silence, and Dorothea felt her heart sink to the floor, shame dragging it down to the depths. There, she had told him all, and now what was waiting for her was nothing but mortification and ruin.

  Her father would throw her from the house, and most likely, she would have to go to the poor house or some such place. She had no friends to speak of, no family to turn to. Her punishment for refusing to do what her father wanted would be severe, and yet Dorothea welcomed it. To be free of her father’s bonds, to be allowed to make her own way in the world, seemed to be a great blessing, even if she were to become a pauper. Perhaps, just perhaps, Lady Patton would be willing to help her when the time came for Dorothea to be thrown out of her father’s home. It was the only hope she had left.

  “Might I ask, Dorothea,” Lord Turner said softly, his voice breaking the quiet tension that had settled over them, “what you will bring on your own head, should you refuse to marry me?”

  Tears slid down her cheeks, but she did not wipe them away. “It matters not, Lord Turner. I have long endured my father’s demands, and whilst I have done my best to stand up to them when I could, of late he has become a little more threatening. He informed me that if I did not do as he asked, then I would be thrown from his house and ruined forever.” She lifted one shoulder into a halfhearted shrug. “Mayhap that will occur and mayhap that is for the best. My only fear is that he will attempt to injure you also.”