His Jilted Bride (Historical Regency Romance)

by Rose Gordon

  “No, I suppose not. He was too interested in a favor.”

  Elijah squeezed his toes in his shoes and took a deep breath. He couldn't afford to give himself away or say too much here. Amelia really might be in danger. “What kind of favor?”

  “I don't know,” she whispered, her voice terribly uneven. “Look for some sort of paper?”

  “What sort of paper?”

  “I—I—don't know.” She took a ragged breath. “He once asked me to find a piece of paper in my cousin's house, but I don't know what I was looking for. I think he wants me to look again.”

  A lead weight settled on Elijah's chest. There was no denying it, Amelia was involved in this somehow. He didn't know why or to what extent, and doubted she did, either, but she was involved and he'd do everything humanly possible to protect her and keep her safe. “Listen to me, Amelia. I have to go get dressed for the ball tonight. I want you to stay with my mother. Do you understand? Do not leave her side until I come back.”

  “Why?”

  “Do you remember the time you climbed to the top of the big oak on the south border of Watson Estate and I told you to just stay there and not to move?”

  “Yes. There was a giant wasps' nest on one of the branches.”

  “Right. But you didn't know it and had to trust me, remember?”

  She nodded.

  “I need you to trust me again, Amelia. Please don't leave my mother's side until I come back for you.”

  Amelia folded her arms. “On one condition. You had better tell me everything I want to know tonight.”

  “Tonight, I promise.” He kissed her hand then led her back inside the sitting room.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  A thousand questions ran through Amelia's mind. The least of which was why Henry was standing in front of her asking to escort her down to the ballroom.

  “Where is Elijah?”

  “He was having trouble with his costume and didn't want you to have to wait to go downstairs,” he said loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. He held his hand out to her to help her off the settee.

  There was something hard in his hand that he shoved into hers. Her fingers closed around it: a note. Excitement coursed through her. What did it say?

  “Read it later,” Henry whispered, offering her his arm.

  She scowled at him. She knew that. She took his arm and allowed him to escort her down the stairs. “He does plan to attend, doesn't he?” she whispered.

  Henry nodded. “Yes. He'll be here.”

  Because Amelia and Regina had waited for Elijah's return, the ball had begun a half an hour ago and already there was a crush of people. All around the room colorful skirts swished as couples danced around them.

  “Good evening, Mr. Parker,” Henry said, bowing. “Have you met my wife? Lady Amelia Banks?”

  Mr. Parker, who was nearly as round as he was tall, bowed to her. “What a pleasure.”

  No, a pleasure would be when Elijah arrived and Henry could leave her side.

  “Ho there, Elijah,” Philip said, clapping Henry on the back.

  “Philip,” Henry clipped.

  Philip was clad in solid black and wore a silver demi mask. He gave her a low bow. “Amelia. It's very nice to see the doting groom is treating you so well. May I have this dance?”

  “Actually, I've claimed her first waltz,” Henry cut in. “You wouldn't want to waltz with your sister anyway, would you?”

  Philip's lips thinned. “Very well, but I'd like your next dance, then.”

  Henry nodded stiffly, then led Amelia to the dance floor.

  “Why are you pretending to be Elijah?” she whispered.

  “I had to introduce you somehow,” he murmured, his eyes looking everywhere but at her.

  She stepped on his foot to get his attention. “Not to my brother.”

  He ignored her and kept spinning her around the floor.

  “Is there a reason there's enough space for another body between us?”

  “I don't want to seem too eager. It wouldn't be good to make tongues wag.”

  “You're absurd. Tongues are more likely to wag because we're so far apart.”

  He frowned. “Do you think someone might think we have an unhappy marriage?”

  She stared at him, unable to think of a suitable quip. Fortunately, this was a short waltz and the end was very near. Then she'd put as much distance between the two of them as possible. She'd promised Elijah she'd stay close to his mother, she'd never said anything about spending the evening with Henry.

  “When we finish, perhaps you should make a visit to the little room Caroline set off for ladies of the family to retire in for a bit and read your note.”

  “Yes, I think I shall,” she agreed. She'd been wanting to since he'd given it to her but hadn't found the right time, yet. From the corner of her eye she saw Henry shoot a wolfish grin at the young lady dancing next to them. She swatted him. “If you want to pretend to be Elijah, then you'd better have better manners than that.”

  Henry ignored her and quickly spun Amelia around so her back was to the lady and his eyes could focus on the side of the beautiful young lady's very generous curves.

  A moment later, the music ended and Henry abruptly loosened his hold on Amelia in favor of making the acquaintance of the young lady who'd caught his attention.

  Amelia scowled at him. If he didn't stop his wandering eyes and lustful looks while pretending to be Elijah, she’d brain him.

  Putting it from her mind, she walked as slowly as she could to get into the little room. She'd been to a few balls in London held by some of the Banks ladies and always heard they set off a private room for family at balls. Amelia didn't know why. Perhaps there were better foods waiting or Caroline's personal lady's maid to mend a ripped flounce as opposed to hired help. She didn't really know, and would be slightly more interested if only she wasn't so intent on reading the slip of paper she'd tucked in her glove.

  She closed the door to the dimly lit room behind her and sat down beside a candle, then removed the folded paper. It smelled of Elijah, spicy and of the fresh outdoors. Slowly, she unfolded it.

  PLEASE, TRUST ME. I LOVE YOU.

  Her heart pounded. He loved her? Why he hadn't just told her, she'd never know, but he loved her! She looked down at the note and read those three simple words again and again. He loved her. He loved her. Elijah loved her. She took a deep breath and refolded the note. She couldn't sit in here and reread it over and over again like a ninny. She needed to go back out there and find him and tell him that she loved him, too.

  She tucked the note back into the top of her long white glove and stood.

  Just then, a floorboard creaked. Her pulse raced. Was someone in the room with her?

  Slowly she turned around to a pair of cold grey eyes in a demi mask. She opened her mouth to scream, but her cry was lost, buried against a firm, gloved hand.

  ***

  Elijah stood motionless as Amelia scurried away from Henry. Elijah had wanted to be the one at her side, but Henry had convinced him that he was the better person to be down there with her because it'd be easier for Henry to drive her away to the room, nor would he appear besotted.

  Which was true. Henry was better at keeping his feelings separated from his duty; not to mention he didn't love Amelia, and Elijah's love for her might have given himself away.

  Still, he wished he'd been down there by her side and able to confirm she was locked safely in the drawing room, away from Philip and any danger he might present. Instead, he'd spent the last hour lurking behind a giant marble statue on the balcony which overlooked the top of the two-story ballroom, waiting and watching.

  Just as they'd planned, when Philip approached them, Henry took Amelia off to dance and suggested she visit the blue saloon after the dance. Of course, Henry might have gotten a little too dramatic with his ogling of Lord Mobley's daughter, but it helped build credence for why Amelia was stalking off, he supposed.

  Henry
was supposed to have slid the lock once she was safely inside, keeping her secure. And if he didn't, so help him, Elijah was going to kill his own brother.

  A boot scraped against the concrete and chills ran up Elijah's spine. Remaining stock-still, he shifted his eyes. It was Bertie, the footman he'd bribed to tell him who arrived with Philip.

  Elijah stepped out from behind the statue and into its shadow. “Well?”

  Bertie scanned the throngs of people. “I—I don't see him now, sir.”

  “How was he dressed?”

  “Black. All black.”

  Elijah sighed. That could be half the gentlemen here. Costume balls, he'd learned, were generally attended only to appease one's wife. No gentleman enjoyed dressing up in anything different than he'd typically wear and most usually opted to wear black and a demi mask. “Anything else? Was he tall? Short? Did he keep his hat on?”

  “Tall, sir. Taller than most, six foot, mayhap.”

  “Are you sure you're not describing Philip?”

  “No, sir. This man was taller than Lord Kirkham, he was.”

  “All right,” Elijah said with a sigh. He and Henry had agreed that Henry wouldn't collect Amelia from Caroline's sitting room until he'd seen Philip's coachmen park the carriage. Their best chance to catch either of them now would be to wait for them in the east lawn where the carriages were parked.

  Elijah slipped out the side door to the exterior balcony and jumped. He bit off a vile curse when his feet collided with the hard ground, then dusted off his trousers. He was getting too old to be jumping off second story balconies. He slipped behind the tall bushes that lined the house and walked in the thin alley between the bushes and the house. Truly he didn't have to walk this way. In fact, it would have been faster to have gone the other way, but call it years of always being careful or perhaps love that he felt compelled to peek in on Amelia and make sure she was all right. A part of him wished he could have been hiding in that room and seen her reaction upon reading his missive. Did she smile? Did she cry? Or did she sigh with uncertainty? She'd seemed interested in their physical activities and spending time together, but did she love him, too? Or was her love only that of a friend? The uncertainty was enough to kill him.

  Stepping carefully so not to alert anyone to his presence, he crouched down to stay hidden behind the bushes as they decreased in height from six feet tall down to three as he neared the window of the blue saloon.

  He came to an abrupt halt.

  The window was open.

  Every ounce of blood in Elijah's veins pumped through his body, carrying with it, rage, fury, and nervous excitement.

  “Calm down.”

  Elijah jerked his eyes to the right and in the moonlight locked eyes with his twin. “What are you doing?”

  “The same thing you are,” Henry whispered. “Waiting.”

  Elijah recognized the warning right away and it took every ounce of strength he possessed to stay still long enough to hear what Henry had to say.

  “Someone's in there,” Henry whispered again.

  Elijah's heart slammed in his chest. “Why?” It was the only word he could form.

  “I don't know. After I locked the door and asked Andrew and Benjamin to have a conversation right outside it and keep it guarded, I came out here to meet the constable. Just as I was walking past, I heard the sound of breaking glass and watched someone go in there.”

  “And you just let them?” Elijah hissed.

  “Yes. I have Andrew and Benjamin guarding the door and I gave Hiram my best pistol and stationed him to wait in that room and if any foul play happened, he was to start shooting.”

  That would have made Elijah feel better if Hiram was a crack shot and not a chubby stableboy. “Do you realize he could shoot Amelia?”

  “Not likely,” Henry said, his voice calm as could be. “I told him to start shooting—and I specified not in the direction of a person.”

  A measure of relief washed over Elijah but was gone in less than a second when a shot rang out. Then a second. And a third. Followed by a fourth.

  Elijah and Henry momentarily locked gazes, but not for more than a fraction of a second. Just long enough for Elijah to make sure Henry understood that if a hair was harmed on Amelia's head, Henry had better run into exile.

  “Wait,” Henry whispered, grabbing Elijah's shoulder to keep him from crawling into the window.

  The force of Henry's grip held Elijah back just far enough that a booted foot coming out of the window missed his face as the intruder jumped out, taking a squirming and kicking, but silent Amelia with him.

  “Now,” Elijah and Henry whispered in unison, lunging for the duo who'd just come through the window.

  The foursome tumbled into the grass; shrieks and grunts erupted as everyone struggled. The man at the bottom struggled to get up, Amelia struggled to get free and Elijah and Henry struggled to let Amelia get up while holding her captor down.

  Elijah placed his hand firmly on the man's throat and rolled off to the side. “Go, Amelia.”

  Amelia scrambled to get up and ran to where a small audience had gathered a few feet away. Just then, a flash of silver caught Elijah's attention. He released his hold on the masked stranger and began chasing after who he was certain was Lord Kirkham. The crowd of onlookers was too large now for the other man to get away. Besides, Henry and his small army of constables were there. They could handle it. The only person Elijah cared about right now was Philip, Lord Kirkham. He still didn't understand what Amelia had to do with any of this, nor did he want her hurt ever again, and the only way to ensure that was to capture Philip who was running toward a little cusp of trees near the conservatory.

  A twig snapped, followed by a whispered curse. Elijah froze. Philip was near. Very near. Elijah moved behind a thick tree and waited. Philip obviously knew to be careful while walking in the wooded area, but his mistake had been running into a grove of trees he was unfamiliar with, especially at night. Elijah crept closer to where he thought Philip was standing until he glimpsed what appeared to be the back of a human form through the shadows. At his side, Philip's left hand clenched and unclenched, while his right hand stayed hidden in the darkness.

  Elijah lunged forward, taking them both to the ground and a shot rang out. Elijah reached for Philip's gun, but was stopped when an elbow collided with his right cheek. He grunted through the sharp pain and reached again, pressing down on the middle of Philip's back with the heel of his left hand.

  Philip half-gasped, half-grunted and threw the gun. Not far, but far enough that Elijah couldn't reach it without allowing Philip a means of escape.

  “Damn you,” Elijah grunted.

  “No, damn you,” Philip countered. “She was supposed to marry Friar, then I'd be free of this mess.”

  Elijah placed his arm down on the back of Philip's neck, adding just the slightest amount of pressure as he continued to pin him to the ground. “Explain yourself.”

  “Amelia. She was supposed to marry Friar. Until you got involved, that is.”

  “Why?” When Philip didn't immediately answer, Elijah added more pressure to his neck with his arm.

  “She was to be the madam,” Philip shrieked, his body trying fruitlessly to move under Elijah's weight.

  “Why?” he bit off again.

  “People were starting to question Friar's activities.”

  “People? What people?”

  “The ones he was selling the girls to.”

  Elijah pressed down a little harder. “What were they questioning?”

  “Their willingness.”

  That's because they weren't willing! “And how does Amelia fit into all of this?”

  “She was to act as the madam, say she'd recruited the girls and that they were willing.”

  Elijah's skin crawled at the very suggestion. “And Friar thinks he could have made Amelia bend to his will.”

  “Physical force is a powerful weapon, wouldn't you say, Mr. Banks?”

  Elija
h had the strongest urge to punch him in the side for that remark, but had long ago decided he'd only use as much force as was necessary to complete his tasks. That night in Brighton he'd only bloodied the man so badly because there were two against one and the only gun in sight was in the hands of the enemy. “All right, and was it by physical force that you took those other girls?”

  “Of course. We couldn't very sell them as virgins.”

  A bitter taste filled Elijah's mouth and this time he did punch Philip in the side, eliciting a high-pitched shriek that echoed through the night. “That's for what you did to those girls. And this—” he punched him again, so hard this time he broke a rib— “is for enjoying it. And this—” he punched him again— “is for even thinking about involving Amelia in this filth.”

  “I didn't have a choice.” His voice was a mere whisper. “I owe Friar money. A lot of money. I was working down my debts by helping gather girls and he said he'd forgive my debts entirely if I'd convince her to be the madam.”

  “But we both know that would never happen. So you thought to abduct her, is that it?”

  Philip didn't answer.

  Elijah punched him again. “Was that your plan? To abduct her? Or just to get her ruined at your cousin's party so she'd have to accept his suit?” When he didn't answer again, Elijah delivered another quick punch to his side.

  Philip groaned. “The latter. But when you beat him and had him in the gaol, he couldn't attend the wedding.”

  “Then it became abduction,” Elijah finished for him. “And now, it will be the gallows.” Elijah propped himself up on the arm he had going across the back of Philip's neck and placed his knee in the man's spine so he could reach up and grab Philip's gun. Keeping his position, he cocked the gun and trained it at Philip's head. “Now, I'm going to release my hold on you and you're slowly going to get up and walk back to the house. You take one step in a direction more than five degrees away from the direction of the house, and you'll have a permanent limp. You try to run, and you'll never walk again.”