by Emma Evans
“Please, Clara, let me protect you,” he urged, still begging her not to go. “I want to make sure you are all right.”
“But I will be all right, if you are with me,” Clara replied firmly. “I want to get out of this house, Thackery, I want to find my place in society as your wife, not as some hidden secret that the ton talks about but has never seen! I promise I will not leave your side.”
She watched as he bit his lip, evidently thinking hard. Holding her breath, she waited for his judgment to fall, and with a huge wave of relief, saw him give a short, brisk nod.
“Very well,” he said with a sigh. “You must stay by me, however. I do not so much as want you to dance with another gentleman without my knowledge.”
Delighted, Clara threw her arms around his neck, wincing slightly as the wound in her shoulder stung.
“Thank you, Thackery,” she said, holding him tightly. “You do not know what this means to me.”
She felt him suddenly tense beneath her embrace, embarrassment rushing into her face. Should she not be as forward as this? Did he find her closeness a little too much?
Easing back, she dropped her gaze, suddenly feeling rather shy. “I apologize,” she murmured, shifting back into her chair a little more. “I did not mean to—”
His mouth landed on hers with such force that Clara felt the breath knocked from her body. It was as if he had been holding back from her, for the passion that came from his sudden, urgent embrace had her entirely overwhelmed. There was nothing she could do but cling to him, her hands tight on his lapels as he angled his head and kissed her again.
When he broke their kiss, his breathing was ragged, matching her own. Resting his forehead against hers, he kept his eyes closed and ran his arms down her shoulders over and over, as if to comfort her.
“I—I do not want you to apologize,” he breathed, slowly opening his eyes to look at her. “It was not that I did not want your embrace but rather that I have found myself so drawn to you for so long that it has been difficult to keep it all bottled up inside myself. I want you to know, Clara, that my affection for you has been steadily growing. I do not look upon this marriage as an eventual satisfaction to my physical desires but one that will, I hope, lead us to happiness together.” A small laugh escaped him as he ran one gentle finger down her cheek, making her shiver. “I think, if I may be so bold to say, that you are not exactly disinclined towards me.”
“No,” Clara admitted, tentatively running her hand over the curve of his neck as the tips of her fingers brushed at his hair. “No, I would not say that I am disinclined towards you, Thackery. In fact, I would say quite the opposite.”
There was no reply for a moment, and a sudden, swift tension ran all through her as she waited for him to respond. His fingers ran down the length of her cheek and then down her neck, brushing the soft skin there. It was as though he were stoking a fire within her and Clara felt her eyes close of their own accord.
“That is so very good to know,” he eventually whispered, his breath mingling with her own. “I care for you very much, Clara.” His lips touched hers again, although this time it was with a gentleness that had her melting against him. She felt his hands move to her hair, pulling one pin after another from it until it uncoiled over her shoulder and down her back, allowing him an intimacy she had never given to anyone before.
“You are truly lovely, Clara,” he breathed, tearing his mouth from hers. “You are beauty itself. I cannot imagine my life without you by my side. Already I am looking forward to what lies ahead for us both.”
“As am I,” Clara replied, an impish smile on her face. “Starting with the Coleridge ball this evening.”
He groaned as she laughed, pulling her tightly against him. “There was more I wanted to tell you about your brother but I think it can wait,” he muttered, brushing an errant curl over her ear. “You are much too enticing, my dear Clara. I find that I can deny you nothing.”
“Then I shall use that to my advantage,” Clara replied, before his lips found hers again.
So, a few hours later, Clara found herself standing in Lord Coleridge’s ballroom, with Thackery on one side and Sophia on the other. This was their first outing together as a newlywed couple and, of course, they garnered a great deal of attention.
Clara, recalling how different her first ball had been when she had merely been a chaperone to Sophia, tried her best to accept all the attention graciously whilst being sure not to give the gossip mongers anything to talk about. She held onto Thackery’s arm and smiled and nodded, allowing him to answer most of the questions. One good thing that came from all the attention was that Sophia had been given opportunity to be presented to a great many people, including some new gentlemen who made Sophia’s eyes light up. In fact, it was possibly the quickest Sophia’s card had ever been filled up and Clara was truly happy for her.
“Might we waltz, my dear?”
Clara, pulled from her consideration of Sophia and the gentleman she was currently being led out to dance with, looked up at Thackery and saw the smile on his face and warmth in his eyes. Her stomach tightened as he offered her his arm, her heart quickening its pace as though she were being courted by the gentleman for the very first time.
“I would very much like to dance, Thackery,” she replied, her mind filled with the memory of how it had felt to be in his arms when he had unexpectedly taken her onto the floor so many weeks ago.
“Our first dance as husband and wife,” he murmured, looking down at her tenderly as the music began. His hand settled firmly on her waist, his other hand holding hers, and within a few moments, Clara found herself lost in a dream, twirling around the floor with the man she called husband, the man she was certain she loved. Nothing, it seemed, could shatter her happiness.
Chapter Fifteen
“Oh, goodness.”
“What is it?” Simon asked, turning to Clara who was looking across the room.
Clara shook her head. “There’s a gentleman attempting to take Sophia outside. I think we should go and help her.”
Simon nodded, seeing Sophia’s somewhat frantic look. “Of course. Come with me.”
Heading across the ballroom floor, Simon was relieved that Clara came with him without complaint. He hadn’t been thrilled with the idea of her attending, but he had to admit that she’d been right to say that she couldn’t remain cooped up at home for eternity. It was just somewhat unsettling to have very little awareness of where Viscount Crawford was, especially since the steward had returned very little information as to where the man was.
“Sophia?” he called, stepping out onto the terrace and hurrying down the steps into the gardens. “Sophia? I have been looking all over for you.”
The guilt in her face made him drop the severity from his voice, turning his gaze onto the gentleman walking alongside her.
“I believe my cousin did not wish to walk with you, sir,” he said firmly. “You shall not come near her again. Do you understand?”
The gentleman blustered, shuffling his feet before nodding and turning away.
“Thank you, Thackery,” Sophia murmured, hurrying towards him. “Lord Johnstone was very insistent, and I so hoped that you or Clara would see my urgent look. Did you leave her inside?”
Panic grabbed at his heart as Simon turned around to see no sign of Clara.
“No, I did not,” he breathed, looking at Sophia who turned frightened eyes back on him. “She was right behind me only a moment ago.”
He swallowed hard as Sophia clutched at his sleeve.
“Where did she go?” Sophia whispered, staring at him as though he would have the answer. “Where is she, Thackery?”
“I—I don’t know,” Simon replied, his heart quailing. “Hurry. He can’t have gone far. We have to find her.”
Sophia held onto his arm as Simon began to walk back in the direction they’d come from. He hadn’t taken more than ten steps away from the terrace but, since there were other guests walking in and ou
t of the ballroom, there was every chance that Viscount Crawford had taken his chance and caught her.
“I should have been more careful,” Simon muttered as he stormed ahead into the darkness. “I should have insisted she held my arm.”
“Do you think Crawford has her?” came Sophia’s tremulous whisper. “Is he here?”
Her question made his stomach tense. “Yes, I think so,” he muttered, trying to be as quiet as possible. “There is no other reason for her to disappear.”
The gardens were fairly quiet but not all that expansive. The lanterns on the other side of the gardens cast their eerie glow through the intricate railings that separated the house from the London streets, but Simon could not see any movement.
“Wait, wait,” he hissed, grasping Sophia’s arm as she stumbled in the darkness. The music from the orchestra drifted across to them, the conversation and laughter in sharp contrast to the fear and worry racing through him.
“What are we waiting for?” Sophia whispered, her fingernails digging into his palm as she caught his hand. “I don’t understand.”
Simon closed his eyes and listened hard. Sophia, mercifully, grew quiet as they stayed entirely still. He knew there was no point in stumbling through the gloom in search of his wife if he had very little idea of where she was. There had to be some clue, something that would let him know where she was.
A muffled cry split the air. Sophia’s fingers tightened all the more and Simon looked back at her, seeing the whites of her eyes in the shadowy darkness.
“That has to be her,” he said quietly. “Come on, but stay quiet.”
Sophia let go of his hand as they slowly made their way forward into the gloom. A branch snapped under his feet, making Simon wince—but there came a sudden groan, a loud thud and then the sound of someone crying out in fear.
He didn’t hesitate. Hurrying forward as fast as he could, Simon searched vainly for his wife, not knowing where she was or what to do.
“Clara?” he called, hoping that he was not too late. “Clara? Are you here?”
“Simon?”
Her voice was thin and weak, but it was enough to give him hope. “Clara? Where are you? Keep talking to me.”
“I’m here,” she called, her voice a little louder than before. “There’s a lot of bushes—over by the railing.”
There was no sign of Viscount Crawford, no voice that demanded Clara be silent. His heart almost bursting from the confines of his chest, Simon finally saw a shadowy figure leaning heavily against the railings, and as he broke into a run, saw her stumble towards him, her hands reaching for him.
“Clara!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms around her waist. “Clara, forgive me! I thought you were behind me. I thought that—”
“I killed him!”
Her words were torn from her lips, her eyes an expression of agony as he looked at her in the lantern light.
“I tried to get away from him but I fell—and as he pulled me to my feet, I found a thick branch, and so, in my fear, I swung it at him, hard.” She swallowed, tears pouring down her cheeks. “He fell without a sound.”
Simon held her tightly as she led him towards where Crawford lay, bending down carefully and holding his hand over the man’s mouth.
“He is not dead, Clara,” he said reassuringly. “Just unconscious—and no one can blame you for what you did. This time, he is not going to get away with a simple fine. It will be incarceration or transportation for him, I will make sure of it.”
She fell against him, her hands tight about his neck as she drew in ragged breaths, evidently relieved that she had not committed a terrible act.
“You are quite safe now,” he promised her, wrapping one arm around her waist and holding the other hand out to Sophia who appeared to be quite shocked. “I have you both and I can assure you that you will never have to deal with Lord Crawford again.”
Thankfully, it did not take too long for Clara to recover herself. The shock had been great, but lately, there had been an inner strength that had steadied her. A small glass of brandy had helped too, although he himself had taken a larger measure. The relief of seeing her sitting by the fire in their own home brought him a greater relief than he had ever thought imaginable.
“I am going to retire, I think,” Sophia said, getting up to kiss Clara gently on the cheek. “I am glad you are all right, Clara. I would have been utterly devastated had your brother succeeded.”
Clara smiled at her and pressed her hand. “Thank you, my dear. I will see you in the morning. We have to plan your ball!”
“My ball?” Sophia whispered, turning wide eyes onto Simon who, having had no notion of this, tried to look as unsurprised as possible.
“Yes, indeed,” Clara replied firmly. “I think that you deserve a ball of your own after all that has gone on. Simon and I shall throw you one in a month’s time, what say you to that? An evening when everyone’s attention will be entirely focused on you.”
Simon, who both loved and hated the idea in equal measure, could not help but chuckle as Sophia squealed and flung herself at Clara, hugging her tightly, before doing the very same to Simon.
“Oh, thank you, thank you!” she exclaimed, her eyes shining. “I do not think I shall sleep a wink now!”
“Off with you,” Simon chuckled, waving her away. “Get some rest, Sophia. You shall have all the time in the world to daydream come the morrow.”
Sophia bid them both a goodnight, practically quivering with excitement, and finally, Simon was left alone with his bride.
Walking over to her, he pulled Clara to her feet and wrapped his arms around her, drinking her in. She was warm and soft, her gentle sigh breathing peace into his soul.
“You are very kind, my love,” he murmured, looking into her eyes. “You thought to throw Sophia a ball on the very night you were almost abducted by your crazed brother?”
She gave him a slight smile, shrugging. “Sophia is meant to be the one enjoying the Season, not I—and she has had very little attention from anyone since there has been so much going on with you and me. I think it only right that we should have something for her.”
“Kindness itself,” Simon replied, marveling at how considerate she was. “You put my own heart to shame.”
Sitting down, he pulled her close to him and patted her hand gently. “Are you quite sure you are all right?”
“I am,” Clara replied, as a small sigh escaped her lips. “Seeing Crawford taken away like that assured me that there is no threat from him any longer, although I do feel some sympathy for his wife.”
Shaking his head, Simon passed a hand over his eyes. “You truly do amaze me, Clara. The wife is as evil and conniving as he. I am quite sure that she was just as much in favor of him trying to force you into matrimony.” Seeing the questions in her eyes, he brushed one hand down her soft cheek, marveling at her beauty. “What I should have told you this afternoon is that my steward discovered something about your brother’s finances.”
“Oh?”
His lips tipped into a wry smile. “Frankly, he has none to speak of. His wife and sister-in-law are more than a little greedy and he has allowed them to spend whatever they wish while he himself gambles, purchases horseflesh and does whatever he wants. His estate is in ruins, his fields unfurrowed and practically everything of value gone from within his home.”
Watching her carefully, Simon saw her eyes widen in astonishment.
“I presume things were not as bad when you left,” he queried, seeing her shake her head. “It appears he has quite lost his head and so, in order to try and recoup some of his losses, he offered your hand in marriage for a very pretty sum. I believe he had already taken the money from Lord Franks and, on finding that we were already wed, grew somewhat desperate. I do not think he would have cared about our marriage, just so long as he could present you to Lord Franks.”
Clara shuddered and Simon wrapped one arm about her shoulders. Her head came to rest on his chest as she sighed, clear
ly devastated by what her brother had become.
“There will be no more of this to worry about,” he reassured her. “There will be transportation offered in place of a custodial sentence and it will be up to him what he chooses. You need not think of him any more.”
She sighed again and shook her head. “I will not think of him again,” she murmured, looking up at him. “That part of my life is over. I do not have a dark and lonely future as I once thought, I have you.” Her lips curved into a gentle smile, a happiness stealing over her expression as she pushed all thoughts of her brother aside. “I love you, Thackery. I think I fell for you the first moment I stood on the threshold of your house.”
Her declaration was quiet but penetrated to the very depths of his soul. Here was his wife, the woman he had come to know and admire, offering him her heart. How could he refuse it?
“I love you in return,” he whispered, his joy unfettered as he crushed her against him, his lips landing on hers once more. “And I shall love you every day of my life, forever grateful that I am able to call you my own.”
THE END
The Viscount’s Conquest (Preview)
Lords of London
By: Emma Stone
Chapter One
“And so it is that I fully intend to propose!”
Viscount William Morton stretched his arms wide and gave a broad smile. His green eyes practically blazed with delight as he waited for his friend, Viscount Stephen Radcliffe, to offer his congratulations.
However, Stephen did not do as expected. In fact, he did not even smile. As far as he was concerned, this was yet another example of his friend going a little too far. “Come now, Morton,” he said calmly, pouring two small measures of brandy and handing one to him. “How long have you known this chit? A week? A sennight?”
“A month,” Morton replied, a little haughtily, as though aware of what Stephen was about to say. “And the most wonderful of months at that!”
