by LeFey, Liana
“I should have told you before, but time and situation simply did not allow for it.” He closed his eyes as if in pain. “I never intended to shock you like this, all at once, but things may become very uncomfortable very quickly if there is an inquiry into Ravenwood’s and Wells’s deaths, as I’m certain there will be. Things may come to light I would rather have kept concealed. However, I may not be given a choice. I don’t want you to be caught by surprise.”
“Is there any more?” she asked, not really wanting to know but compelled to ask.
“I have kept nothing from you.”
There was no lie in his eyes. This was it, then. The truth of Percival Falloure. That he’d earned his black reputation honestly had never been in doubt since her discussion with Lady Montgomery. That there was so much more beneath the surface, both good and bad, was expected—everyone had secrets. The nature of some of his secrets, however, was entirely unanticipated. She needed time to process it all.
A knock on the door precluded any further speech, though in truth she had nothing to say at the moment.
“Enter,” commanded her husband.
Seamus poked his head around the door. “My lord, there is a gentleman by the name of Loxdon here to see you. He has brought with him a…” His nose wrinkled. “Young person.”
Eden watched as Percy’s whole body tensed. “Thank you,” said he. “I’ll be down as soon as I put on a shirt—I’ll do it myself,” he added as the valet made to come in.
“As you wish,” said Seamus, closing the door.
“It’s her,” he breathed, rising. “They found her.” He went to the dressing room and returned with a fresh shirt, pulling it over his head as he walked, his normally graceful stride stiff from his injury. “Eden, I must attend to this at once. Forgive me.”
Curiosity now took hold of Eden. Rising, she made to follow him and then realized she was in a state of undress. She couldn’t… But I can. This is my home now, and I am its mistress. Grabbing her wrapper, she drew it on and then tiptoed down the stairs, following the sound of Percy’s voice to the drawing room. She stopped around the corner to listen.
Another man’s voice spoke. “I admit I half expected Ravenwood to lead you on a merry chase.”
“So did I,” her husband replied. “I suppose he knew he was a dead man and felt Wells ought not to get away with it. What of the servants? Do they know where she came from?”
“No. They knew nothing—or so they said.” The other man’s tone was doubtful. “Said their master had bought the house and hired them to care for his daughter. Claimed he’d hired a governess to come in next week and start her lessons. The place was set up with a nursery full of toys and everything, but she’s none of his.”
“Abigail, can you tell us anything about the woman who kept you prior to your moving into that house?”
A child’s voice, high and soft, answered, “Madam was round when we first met her, Fanny an’ me, but now she’s all thin-like. Her hair was red, too, but now it’s gone gray. She’s got a funny mole on the side of her face, an’ another just here.”
The unknown man spoke again. “You don’t think it’s the same woman, do you? The proprietress of The Aurora Temple?”
“I do,” said her husband. “And the same woman who sold Raquel to Lord Fairford.”
Lord Fairford. The man he’d mentioned who’d nearly killed Lady Montgomery and Miss Trouvère. It was all coming together now.
“Abigail, this is very important,” continued Percy. “Do you remember where you were when Lord Wells came to fetch you?”
“Madam covered me eyes before she took me out of the house. I never saw the outside. We met Lord Wells at The Greyhound.”
“Blast it,” the other man said softly. “We’ll never find that wretched woman now.”
“Hellfire Club; has to be,” interjected Percy. “Bloody hell. Perhaps I ought to have joined them, after all. We might have gotten to the bottom of this and found the woman by now.”
“Perhaps,” the other man said. “But if they ever suspected you of being duplicitous—”
“It’d be dangerous, I know,” her husband said. “It’s out of the question now, in any case. I don’t want Eden exposed to those people. They would expect us to match their degeneracy, keep up their foul tenets, host parties. You know the sort I mean.”
Eden didn’t, but she could guess from his tone, which was one of disgust.
“You’ve come a long way, my friend,” said the other man. “Five years ago I would have taken you for one of the devils.”
“Five years ago I was.”
“No, you weren’t. You might have been a bit free with the ladies, but you weren’t like these people. You have a conscience.”
There was a long silence. Then her husband sighed. “Perhaps you’re right, at that. Some of the things they get up to are unpardonable, even for the likes of an old sinner like me.”
“When will I see Fanny?” asked the little girl—Abigail.
“I’ve already sent for your sister,” said Percy. “Until she arrives, you’ll stay here as my guest. As soon as Fanny gets here, you will both be taken to a safe place. A school. A nice school just for little girls like you.”
“Will we live there?” piped the child.
“Yes. You’ll like it there, I promise. The headmistress is a kind lady. She’ll make certain you are safe and well cared for.”
“Thank you, your worship,” said the little voice, followed by a sniffle that sounded clogged with tears. “Thank you for us both.”
Eden had heard enough. Turning, she quietly made her way back upstairs, bewildered by her own conflicted emotions. What manner of man have I married?
While she waited for Percy to return, she gazed around at his bedchamber. Their bedchamber. Clothing was scattered without care across the floor, and the bed was disheveled from last night’s lovemaking.
As she turned, she noticed a curious thing upon the wall to the right: a painting shrouded by a drape. It had been dark in here last night and this morning when he’d left. In her haste to get dressed and be ready for his longed-for return, she hadn’t noticed it. Walking over, she rose on her toes and twitched the cloth aside.
It was a shock to see her own face for an instant before the drape fell once more into place. Reaching up, she pulled the cloth down and away entirely, revealing a portrait of herself. The expression captured by the artist was of a young woman on the verge of tender laughter. In the lower corner, she read The Lady Tavistoke followed by the name William Hogarth.
Memory flooded back. Percy had commissioned this painting. Of her. And he’d hung it in his bedchamber. The words he’d spoken last night in the carriage replayed in her mind. He loved her, of a certainty.
Inside her, every door opened. Every window, too. Light shone in, illuminating every hidden corner and filling it to overflowing until she laughed aloud in sheer joy.
Her husband was such a mystery. His past was rife with black marks, to be sure; but his heart was of a better man than anyone would ever imagine.
Tears spilled from her eyes, and she wiped them away. Tired still from all the excitement and terror of the last twenty-four hours, she crawled once more into bed. Burying herself beneath the covers, she inhaled deeply. It smelled like warmth, love, and her Percy. Her eyes drifted shut.
“Eden?”
She blinked, confused. The light in the room was different. I must have fallen asleep. Stiff, she stretched and turned over to see her husband standing by the bed gazing down at her. “Is all well?” she asked, worried over the wary look in his eyes.
He nodded. “It is indeed. Better than it has been in a long while. Our discussion, earlier, I meant to ask you—”
“I can,” she interrupted, reaching up to catch his hand and hold it fast. “I can, and I will. Always. And if there is anything I can do to help, you have but to tell me.”
His eyes widened briefly, but then narrowed in suspicion. “You were listening, weren�
��t you?” he asked, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.
“I heard what I needed to hear,” she confessed. “Just before you left, I was thinking that I did not really know who you were, but I was wrong. I’ve known almost from the moment we met. I know the man behind the mask you show the rest of the world. He’s a good man, a worthy man. He’s the man I love.”
Eyes like a moonless night stared into her. “And you are the only woman to possess my heart. Body and soul, I belong to you. There is no part of me that is not yours. I love you, Eden. I should have said it ages ago but I was afraid. First, that it would not be returned in full measure. Then I feared saying it last night, in case I died today.”
Tears threatened again.
Before they could form, however, his sobriety melted, giving way to a look of unrepentant mischief. “I’ve loved you from the moment you berated me for suggesting you sought an alliance with old Abingdon.” He laughed and it crinkled the corners of his eyes, lighting his whole face. “I was just waiting for the right moment to tell you. I waited far too long.”
“Perhaps, though not as long as you seem to think.” She pulled him toward her and held his hand to her heart. “You said it last night when you admitted to Papa that you set out to seduce me.”
His brow furrowed. “I did? Well, bully for me.” He sat beside her. “Tell me, did I succeed in my wicked design?”
She moved his hand lower, over her breast. “You have corrupted me in spectacular fashion, husband mine.”
A raffish grin slanted his mouth, the sensuous mouth of a hedonist, the tender mouth of a lover. Her lover. His voice was a low, inflammatory growl that set off sparks of need deep within her belly. “Darling, I’ve only just begun.”
Epilogue
London, 1728
Eden smiled to herself. Percy had been right. It had been a mere nine months since their scandalous “midnight marriage” and the even more outrageous duel that had followed on its heels, yet their passage through the ballroom caused hardly a stir.
The Terror of the Ton had wed The Hellion of Holker Hall, a love match that had relegated him into the ranks of the married and therefore unexciting people. The gossip mill’s current favorite grist was a young lady named Miss Elizabeth Waite, a dark-haired beauty reputed to have a proclivity for trouble.
“Look, there are Lord and Lady Montgomery,” Eden murmured. The Montgomerys and she had become great friends, such that she’d been named their son’s godmother.
“The man looks entirely too smug,” said Percy. “Five pounds says she’s expecting again.”
“Oh, stop it,” she whispered, rapping his arm with her fan.
“You know he’ll be insufferable if I’m right.”
“You’re the insufferable one.” She was unable to keep from smiling. Ever since she’d told him of her missed menses, he’d been strutting about like he was ten feet tall.
His dark eyes sparkled. “Can I help it if I’m proud of my handiwork?”
“One would think you were to carry this babe for the next eight months.”
He pulled a face. “Men are far too delicate for such a task. Everyone knows women are the stronger sex.”
Heads turned as she burst into laughter. She didn’t care. Eden gazed up at her handsome husband. He looked almost younger than when they’d first met. The cares he’d taken on had not lessened since their marriage; indeed, they’d increased. But he had someone to share his burdens with now.
“I see you’re as disgustingly in love with each other as ever,” said Lady Montgomery as they approached. Her smile belied the dry words. “I suppose I ought to tell you the news before you hear it from the rumor mill.”
Eden declined to look at Percy, who pointedly cleared his throat. “What news?” she inquired politely.
Lord Montgomery spoke before his wife could answer. “Our little family is due for another expansion sometime before Christmas.”
“What a coincidence,” said Percy with a smug grin.
“Percy!” Eden hissed, again whacking his arm with her fan.
“Oh, but how wonderful!” exclaimed Lady Montgomery, coming forward to embrace her and kiss her cheek. “We can commiserate all Season while our husbands fuss and pamper us like queens.”
“That sounds like an excellent plan,” Eden said, casting Percy a cat-that-ate-the-cream smile. It was nothing compared to the self-satisfied look he wore. “Look at the pair of them, Sabrina. What are we to do with such men?”
Bending, Percy dropped a kiss on her upturned mouth, eliciting a gasp from a nearby scandalized matron. Moving to her ear, he whispered, “Love me as only you can.”
.
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Acknowledgements
My (very tolerant) family, for their unfailing love and support.
My amazing agent Lane Heymont, for his faith and enthusiasm.
Erin Molta, Senior Editor at Entangled Publishing, for her vision and for helping me put the high-gloss finish on Percy’s story.
My brilliant ARWA chapter mates, for their relentless encouragement and unwavering solidarity.
Y’all rock!
About the Author
Liana LeFey delights in crafting incendiary tales that capture the heart and the imagination, taking the reader out of the now and into another world. Liana lives in Central Texas with her dashing husband/hero, their beautiful daughter, and one spoiled rotten feline overlord. She’s been devouring romances since she was fourteen and is now thrilled to be writing them for fellow enthusiasts.
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