Forever Mine

by Delilah Marvelle

  He shrugged. “This is nothing compared to my estate in Surrey.” Leonard rose from the bed and strode over to where she was. He lingered behind her, glimpsing the large, lush garden behind his London home. “Do you like it?”

  “I love it without end.” She whirled toward him, her white nightdress billowing around her legs before settling around her slim figure. “I adore you, Leonard. Do you know that?”

  He bit back a smile. Gathering her into his arms, he dragged her closer and murmured against her forehead, “Don’t adore me. Love me.”

  She tightened her hold around his waist and breathed out, “My love, once earned, will astound you. And I will admit, my lord, you have already earned your first breath of it.”

  He grabbed her face with both hands and ardently kissed her, cherishing the possibility. “Go. You shouldn’t be here.” Releasing her, he stepped back.

  She nodded and quietly rounded him, disappearing out of the room.

  Throwing back his head, he groaned. This was but the beginning of what felt like an end.

  Though her mother had promised to oversee Augustine’s honor, the woman sobbed without consolation the moment she discovered they were heading to New York to find Nathaniel. Her mother begged and begged Augustine not to go, insisting that after two years, nothing remained of her brother. She insisted she would not cling to any hope that would only destroy the last of her. Augustine knew she could never submit to her mother’s pleas to set aside the hunt. Her mother refused to come along, altogether threatening to eliminate what little honor Leonard had intended to uphold for Augustine by asking her along in the first place. Augustine knew that her poor mother deserved peace from her suffering and more than the scandal she was burdening her with, but she also couldn’t pretend she was free to accept any duty but the one she owed Nathaniel. Her mother, fully knowing that neither of them were about to submit, begged that Augustine be wed before her return to London so as to uphold honor before the eyes of society and God.

  Augustine promised her mother that she would either return married or not return at all, to which her mother solemnly assented.

  Each night thereafter, as their journey to New York drew closer, she snuck into Leonard’s room and slept in his arms and took comfort in them. Though he kissed her often with an ardent, fiery passion that melted her body and soul, not once had he sought to touch her as he had that night. He wanted to wait for their wedding night. He wanted to wait for the day she agreed to be his wife.

  A finer and truer gentleman she’d never known.

  When they finally made their long journey to Liverpool and on to New York, Augustine sensed that everything between them was about to forever change. She knew that whatever they unearthed in New York pertaining to her brother would serve to strengthen or break their growing bond. He would either stand beside her to the very end, or, like her mother, fade the moment any hardship ensued.

  She prayed it was not the latter.

  New York City

  November 3, 1802

  Evening

  Leonard quietly fingered the smooth, cool crystal half-filled with brandy, which he pressed against the palm of his hand. He stared at the sealed parchment sitting on the sideboard beside the glass. The unbroken, red wax seal bearing the New York Marshal crest taunted him. He didn’t have to open it to know what it said. Another hope lost. Another door closed. And yet another tear for Augustine to shed.

  It was unbearable.

  He refused to tell her that he himself had long given up hope. Too much time had passed. No witnesses had ever stepped forth. There was nothing. Nothing. He glanced toward the closed door of the bedchamber. She needed to sleep. It was the only time she appeared to be at peace.

  A muffled knock and the creaking open of the door made Leonard pause. He turned toward the sound, noticing that the entrance door to the room was wide-open.

  He’d been so distracted, he’d left the door unlatched.

  A tall cloaked figure in a top hat lingered in the shadows, outside the candlelight, the corridor beyond too dark to unveil a face. “Informants tell me you are looking for a boy,” he said in a heavy Italian accent. “A British boy who disappeared in these parts two years ago.”

  Leonard blinked as the cloaked shadow strode straight into the room as if it was his to enter. “Yes. We are. Who are you? How did you…?”

  A black-leather gloved hand stripped the top hat shadowing that face, allowing the golden glow of candlelight to reveal sun-tinted hair and a shockingly youthful and good-looking fellow that couldn’t have been more than twenty. Sharp, amber eyes met his. “Who are you to the boy?” he asked. “Family?”

  Leonard stiffened. The man said it as if he knew something. “Yes. Family. Why? What do you know?”

  The man shut the oak paneled door with the heel of his leather riding boot, that penetrating gaze never once breaking from his. “He is no longer here in New York.”

  Leonard fisted his hands, feeling his heart throbbing within him. “Who are you?”

  “I cannot say.”

  “How is it you know this? How is it that you know anything about him or his whereabouts?”

  A smirk tugged those lips as the young man slowly approached, the wooden floorboards protesting beneath every step he took. “I associate with people I should not. That is how I know.”

  Leonard stared at him. Something about him scraped his ability to breathe. “For God’s sake, he is just a boy. He needs to be returned to his family and his way of life. Give me a lead. Give me something, anything. I will pay whatever price you ask.”

  “If I had a price, I would have already asked it. And if I was able to say more, I would have already said it.”

  His chest tightened. “Is he even alive?”

  The young man lowered his shaven chin as he continued to make his way toward him. “That is why I came. To assure you that he is alive and well. In fact, they are very fond of the boy.”

  Leonard hissed out a breath. There was hope. “Why hasn’t he been returned? Why is he being kept? And who are they?”

  “Ask his father. He knows.”

  He swallowed back his angst. “The bastard refuses to tell us anything.”

  The man eyed him, clearly opting not to comment. “I should leave.”

  A sense of panic overtook Leonard. He had to make use of whatever time he had with this man. “So he isn’t here in New York?”

  “No.”

  “And you know this with certainty?”

  “Yes.”

  “How? How do you know this? How are you involved?”

  “As I said, I associate with people I should not. They know nothing of my visit and I ask you keep it such lest they kill you and me.”

  Leonard swiped his face, trying to remain calm. “Can you at least give me a…country? Or a city he may be in? Anything? Anything that might—”

  “No. Simply know that no harm will come to him.” The man paused before him. His black cloak settled with a rustle around that imposing frame, revealing a section of expensive, black evening attire, a crisp ivory waistcoat and a red silk cravat. It was as if the man had just arrived from a night at the opera.

  Though they both stood at about the same height of six feet, this young man’s bulkier physique created the illusion that he was much bigger.

  The man blew out a breath, wafting the tangy scent of a cigar he had smoked. He scanned the length of Leonard, titling his head slightly to one side during his observation, causing strands of sun-tinted hair to cascade onto his forehead. Long gloved fingers thoughtfully tapped against the rounded side of the top hat. “His father is to blame for this unpleasant business. When one holds a stick to a fire, it is bound to burn. I suggest you not associate with the man or entrust him to anything. He is what we Italians call a…cazzo.”

  “And what is that?”

  “A prick.”

  Leonard jumped toward him and grabbed him by the lapels of his evening coat, shaking him until his own arms burned. �
�What is this? A joke?” Jerking him closer, he seethed out, “What aren’t you telling me? Out with it, you son of a bitch, before I—”

  The man grinned with vibrant, boyish charm, thoroughly amused. “You British. Always turning against your own alliances.” Shoving him away with the sweep of an arm, he dug into his inner vest pocket and produced an ivory calling card. “I can only leave you this and ask that you not follow me.”

  Leonard eyed him, then slowly withdrew the card from between those outstretched gloved fingers.

  The man whirled his hat once, then set it atop his head, tapping it into place. Adjusting the curved rim against his forehead, he pointed toward Leonard’s face whilst walking backward toward the direction of the door. “You should shave.” With that, he yanked open the door, stepped out and slammed it behind him.

  Leonard touched his unshaven chin with the tips of his bare fingers, knowing it had indeed been days. He snapped the calling card up toward his face and froze.

  All it read was:

  Death to the British

  Sucking in a savage breath, he darted for the door, slamming it open. The paneled lantern-lit corridor was empty. The son of a bitch! Dashing down its wide length, he skid to a halt at the main stairwell that led both up and down. He leaned over the stairwell, looking for movement.

  Not seeing any, he sprinted downward, downward and downward until he was in the main entrance of the hotel itself. Though he asked person after person after person if they had seen a young man in a top hot and a cloak, the shake of a head is all he got.

  Gritting his teeth, he bolted out of the hotel and into the darkened street. Not a horse or a carriage was in sight.

  It was as if the man had never been.

  He staggered in disbelief, crushing the calling card that was still in his hand. The one person who appeared to know anything had slipped through his fingers. He had failed Augustine. He had failed her. Dearest God. There was no doubt that this was going to be the end of them as he knew it.

  Chapter Five

  There are no guarantees. Only…possibilities.

  And that, I am beginning to realize, may be quite enough for me.

  -From the diary of Lady Augustine Jane Ascott

  Augustine sank against the closest wall behind her and slid down its length when Leonard told her about the man. It was him. It had to be him. It was the same man with the top hat and cigar who had been lingering outside her brother’s window that night.

  Maybe he hadn’t taken Nathaniel after all.

  Maybe he had actually been trying to warn them.

  Maybe this was bigger than she had ever realized.

  Maybe Nathaniel was but a pawn in a…war.

  But how? And why? It made no sense. Her father was but an earl with no direct line to the crown. Regardless, it was obvious more than one person appeared to be involved and it could endanger not only her life but…Leonard’s. Whoever these men were, they had already found her and Leonard. The kidnappers knew they were looking. They knew who she and Leonard were.

  “Augustine,” Leonard whispered, kneeling beside her, his unshaven face twisting. “I’m sorry I let him go. I’m sorry I failed you.”

  She swallowed and glanced toward him. “Failed me? No, Leonard. It is I who have failed you by dragging you into this.” All these months, he had barely slept, barely ate and only shaved when the valet insisted. The rest of his hours he had spent scouring the home Nathaniel had disappeared in, along with interviewing countless souls in her honor, even though she had never once promised him her hand or her heart, knowing it would only distract her from what she had come to do. Her burden had become his and it had to end. He needed peace. And so did she.

  She had already long fallen in love with this man. Only it hadn’t been her undoing as she had thought. Leonard had rescued what little was left of her by holding her when she needed it, by kissing her when she needed it, by making her laugh when she needed it, and it was time she acknowledged him and all he meant to her. “He said that Nathaniel is not here. He said it with certainty?”

  Leonard nodded.

  “But he is alive?”

  He nodded again. “If we are to believe him, yes.”

  A pulsing knot clenched her stomach. “’Tis all I could have hoped for. For as long as he is alive, he knows who he is and knows from whence he came. He may be able to find us if given the chance. They cannot hold him indefinitely. He will turn against them in time. I know he will. He is a warrior at heart.” She paused. “So there is no other lead? He left you with no other information?”

  “No. None. Aside from that…card. Nathaniel could be anywhere.”

  A shaky breath escaped her as a tear traced its way down her cheek toward her nose. She swiped at it and knew it was over. One city she could have easily scoured. Thousands of cities all over the world and into every country she most certainly could not. It was time to admit defeat and set it aside before it altogether ended in the death of the man she had grown to savagely love.

  She hesitated and slipped her arm around his broad shoulder, drawing him close. “We will inform the crown’s investigators of our findings thus far, including this card he gave you. Maybe they can make sense of it. Whatever else comes of it, will come of it. Regardless, you and I have done everything we could. As such, we return home before this destroys the last of you and me. All I ask, Leonard, is that we not tell my mother what we have found. We tell her we know nothing if she asks and carry on separately from my father altogether. That is how we protect ourselves and our children from this day forth.”

  He stiffened and captured her gaze. “What?”

  She smiled brokenly through tears and grabbed hold of his stubbled face. “It is time we honor ourselves by starting a family, Leonard. The sort of family we deserve. The sort of family Nathaniel would have wanted to be part of. Maybe one day, he will find us and put this to rest. Yes?”

  He blinked rapidly. He lifted a hand, delicately stroking his thumb across her lips. “By God. I thought I was going to lose you to this. I thought—”

  “You thought wrong,” she confided against the weight of his fingers that still touched her lips. “I will always hold on to the hope that he will be found, but you mean far too much to me and I am not about to endanger yet another person I love. Through it all, you have given me the strength to believe that anything is possible and I cannot thank you enough for having been everything I needed you to be. Have I told you how much I love you?”

  He paused and slowly shook his head, a breath escaping him at what she knew was a long-awaited declaration.

  “I do,” she confided. “I love you and would be honored to be your wife in soul, body and name. I only hope you still want me. Heaven only knows you have had the patience of God waiting on the devil to become a saint.”

  A gruff laugh escaped him. “Apparently it paid off.” His fingers slid down to her chin and then to her throat, following its curve. “May I never wake knowing you are forever mine.” His brown eyes intently searched hers. He leaned in, the heat of his breath feathering the skin across the bridge of her nose.

  She angled her lips toward his and covered his full warm mouth with hers, shifting their bodies against the floor and the wall.

  He deepened their kiss until her soul melted.

  She relaxed in the safety and comfort of those muscled arms and drifted away from all that had been. One day, she knew, one day, Nathaniel would find his way back home. Perhaps it would take forever and a day, but she had faith in that boy. She had faith that he would find a way.

  And in the meantime, she knew that as long as she had her dear Leonard, happiness would always be hers to not only kiss but hold.

  What happened to Nathaniel? From the slums of New York to the noble estates of London, the mystery unravels in Delilah Marvelle’s The Rumor Series, coming soon from HQN Books:

  Forever and a Day

  (January 2012)

  Forever a Lady

  (August 2012)
>
  Promise Me Forever

  (January 2013)

  And don’t miss The Scandal Series by Delilah Marvelle, available now from HQN Books:

  Prelude to a Scandal

  Once Upon a Scandal

  The Perfect Scandal

  Delilah Marvelle spent her youth studying various languages, reading voraciously and playing the pianoforte. She confesses that here ends the extent of her gentle breeding. She was a naughty child who was forever torturing her parents with countless adventures that they did not deem respectable. Confined to her room on many occasions due to these misadventures, she discovered the quill and its amazing power. Soon, to the dismay of her parents, she rather enjoyed being confined to her room and finished writing her first historical romance (which was a heart-stopping 800 pages long…) at the age of fourteen. She is a two time Golden Heart finalist, a Reviewer’s Best First Historical Romance nominee, and a double Bookseller’s Best Award finalist.

  You can visit her at her website at http://www.DelilahMarvelle.comor her blog, which explores the naughtier side of history, at www.DelilahMarvelle.blogspot.com.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-3411-0

  Forever Mine

  Copyright © 2011 by Delilah Marvelle

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.