Love Regency Style

by Samantha Holt

  The relief refused to dampen the simmering wrath inside of him. For Eleanor and for Lilly, Ashby had to pay. Evan thrust a fist into his face first, relished the crunch of bone and splatter of blood. When the earl fell back, Evan threw himself on top of him and smashed his face again. The man tried to lift his hands to defend himself but the bloodied stump of a hand offered little protection and Evan ploughed through them. He landed blows all over the man, felt the sticky heat of blood spray his face and hands.

  A hand curled around his arm and he whirled, fist raised, snarling like a beast, causing Lilly to stumble back. He dropped fully to the floor, a chill replacing the heat and put his head in his hands. His body shook as the anger deserted him. All he was left with was utter shame. He had let Lilly down, placed her in danger and nearly harmed her himself. He really was no better than his father.

  And what had she done? Nearly sacrificed herself for him. He snorted to himself. She had been willing to throw herself in front of a madman for him and he hadn’t even been prepared to look past her illegitimate birth.

  Damn, he hadn’t even been capable of admitting he might love a woman who was not of equal rank. Now, it was clearer than ever he didn’t deserve her.

  Evan glanced at the unconscious Ashby. The man’s red stained suit provided proof enough of Evan’s brutal nature. When Lilly crawled over to him and pressed his head to her chest, her tiny sobs tearing at his heart, he flinched.

  “Get away from me, Lilly,” he said hoarsely.

  “No,” she said quietly. “I shan’t leave you. Not ever, do you understand?”

  “You must. I cannot be the man you need and deserve.”

  Her gentle hands cupped his face and lifted it so he could look into her eyes. Though one stayed swollen and the bruising in her cheeks had darkened so much that even the gloomy light of the room did not hide it, she could never fail to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  “I need you,” she said softly.

  “I am no better than my father,” he replied bitterly, unable to look away. “I couldn’t live with myself if I ever hurt you.”

  “Why should you hurt me?”

  “My father hurt my mother. She died when he pushed her and she cracked her head on the fireplace. I saw it all when I was eight years old.”

  It was odd how tonelessly the words came out, how they didn’t twist him into pieces anymore. Telling Lilly felt like he had expelled a great breath that he had been holding onto forever. Even his brother didn’t know what had happened. He had been too young to understand why their mother sometimes had bruises on her face or why she winced when he hugged her. But Evan understood all too well.

  “Oh, Evan.” Lilly pressed her forehead to his. “No boy should have to witness that. But you are not like him. You’re a good man, you help women.”

  “I nearly hit you.”

  “But you did not and you would not. That man tried to kill us. I don’t blame you for being furious. I was too. I wanted to tear and rage at him for trying to shoot you.”

  “I love you too much to keep you,” he said sorrowfully. “I cannot subject you to a life with me and my temper.”

  “You love me?”

  He nodded.

  “Is this why you tried to send me away? Because of your temper?”

  He nodded again, his throat trapped with lingering fear and grief.

  “Your temper is terrible,” she said with a smile as she drew back to view him, hands still clasping his face. “But mine is quite awful too. I should like very much to spend the rest of my days arguing with you, Lord Hawksley.” Lilly dropped her hands and glanced down at them. “If you would have me, I should like to be your permanent mistress.”

  Evan let his brows dart up. “Like your parents?”

  “Yes, like my parents.” She continued to stare at her lap. “They were happy, you see. I understand that now. For so long I resented them for their choice but I had more love being an illegitimate child than many other children and my mother never regretted it. In a way, I was quite lucky, I believe, to have parents so deeply in love.”

  Evan shook his head. She believed in him that much that she was willing to give up her dreams for him and become his mistress for the rest of his life? He could hardly believe he deserved such a sacrifice but then again, when had Lilly ever been wrong?

  “You’re a good man,” she persisted. “You tried to help Eleanor when no one else would and you have always tried to do your best for me. Look at him.” She thrust a finger toward Ashby’s limp body. “Do you really believe yourself like him?”

  He considered the man—the wild rage he had seen and his obvious thirst for pain and suffering. No, he didn’t truly believe himself like him. If he worked hard enough, could he be the man Lilly deserved?

  Well, first there was one thing he had to put right.

  Taking her hands, he pressed a kiss to each of her fingers and the inside of both wrists. Then he clasped them in one hand and lifted her chin with a finger. “I am afraid, Miss Claremont, I must decline your proposal. I cannot have you as my mistress.”

  “Oh.”

  “You are, however, still contracted for—what?—ten more months to do whatever I ask of you. And I…” He had to push the words through a dry throat, “ask you to be my wife.”

  Lilly’s mouth dropped open but she remained silent. His heart threatened to break free of his ribs.

  “It appears I’ve done the unthinkable and silenced Lilly Claremont,” he said, with a twisted smile, mostly to hide the unease beating in his chest. “You will remember that you are under contract and cannot say no.”

  She shook her head and a smile broke gradually across her face. “You, Lord Hawksley, are the most arrogant man I have ever met.” She inched closer and wrapped her arms around his neck. “But if I cannot say no, I suppose I shall have to say yes.”

  “You shall marry me?”

  “Yes. I have little choice.” Lips flattened to his, she whispered against them, “I love you very much, you see.”

  “I love you.”

  And when he took her lips with a kiss, he almost believed that maybe he could be deserving of her. He vowed then to work every day to prove himself worthy of the irritating, beautiful, frustrating woman who had stolen his heart.

  Epilogue

  “You can put her down, you know?”

  Evan turned from the window where he had been staring out at the elegant gardens at the back of Hawksley Manor and listening to his daughter’s soft breaths. He couldn’t bring himself to return her to her crib and risk waking her.

  He eyed his wife, who was clutching her sketchpad in front of her and he noted the dark pencil stains on her fingertips. “I dare not,” he whispered.

  “If you spend forever holding Elizabeth, she shall never learn to be independent of you.”

  He shook his head with a grin and paused to study the two month old. She had his dark hair but thankfully took after Lilly with her delicate features. “With a mother like you, my dear, I have my doubts she will be anything but fierce and independent.” He nodded at the sketch pad. “Have you been drawing?”

  A beautiful blush tinged her cheeks and she rotated the pad to show him a sketch of him and Lilly sleeping together. His heart swelled at the image of Elizabeth in his arms. Sometimes he still couldn’t quite understand how he deserved so much, but he no longer feared his temper. Most days, he found himself quite placid.

  “When did you sketch this? This was last night, was it not?”

  Elizabeth had been particularly fitful last night so they had taken her into their bed. He concluded it was because they were not in Oxfordshire where Elizabeth had been born. They were all happier there but it seemed many of the Hampshire families wished to visit them and their new child so they had come to Hawksley Manor until the interest had died down. With the birth of their child, it seemed any lingering gossip about their marriage was silenced. Lilly had always bore it with great stoicism, but he loathed to think o
f her subjected to the bitterness of other women. His wife just smiled and reminded him that few of them were as lucky as they to have love in their lives.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” she said, drawing his attention back to her, “so I did a rough sketch and finished it this morning while you two were enjoying your time together.”

  “It’s beautiful,” he murmured, shifting Elizabeth so he could cradle her in one arm and wrap his free one around Lilly. He drew her to his side. “You were not worried about Henry, were you?”

  “My cousin? No, why?”

  “Well, since I made it clear he couldn’t sell your house and if he ever tried to come near you again, I would make sure he regretted it, he has not been seen. You know I wouldn’t let him harm you again, do you not?”

  “I do. And I don’t fear him. He is a coward, Evan, and with the loan sharks after him, I doubt we shall ever see him again. Justice for my father shall likely be served without my having a hand in it.”

  He thought it likely Henry had fled the country to escape the loan sharks—and to avoid Evan.

  “At least we were able to salvage some of your father’s business when it was sold off.”

  She beamed up at him. “Yes, I should like Lizzy to know something of her grandfather.”

  “And it is turning a fine profit, which never hurts. It shall go some way to funding the final preparations for the school.”

  “I do hope we get to visit it soon.”

  Evan let slip a smile. It was not the first time his wife had mentioned her wish to visit the house in Scotland that they were now turning into a woman’s college. With the help of the lady he had first aided, preparations were well under way.

  “A trip to Scotland shall have to wait a small while. Neither you nor Elizabeth are up to such a long journey.”

  “Nonsense,” she scoffed and pressed herself against his side. “Have I not proved to you I am more than capable of… energetic pursuits?”

  The way she dropped her voice set sparks off in his brain. Elizabeth might have disturbed them last night but they had enjoyed plenty of nights together since the birth of their daughter. Flashes of naked skin and Lilly’s parted lips seared his memory and he groaned as he felt the inevitable tightening in his trousers. Elizabeth stirred and he scowled.

  “Now see what you have done.”

  “She will be fine. Why do you not set her down and we shall take a stroll through the gardens? I’ve asked Mary to keep an eye on her.”

  “The gardens you say? And what could interest you about the gardens?”

  “I have had many fine moments in gardens,” Lilly replied with a wide grin. “I kissed a marquess in a garden once I believe.”

  “Oh indeed, and did you enjoy this kiss?”

  “Hardly. He was a vain and arrogant man.”

  Evan pinched her side causing her to yelp. “I seem to recall a similar moment and I believe the woman involved was quite enthusiastic.”

  “Appearances can be deceiving,” she admitted and peered up at him. “I suspect deep down he was really quite softhearted.” She went onto tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “He gave me more than a kiss in the gardens in the end. He gave me everything I didn’t even know I wanted.”

  Evan coughed and forced away the tingling sensation in his eyes. “Come then, let me put this little one down and we shall see if we cannot find you another marquess to kiss in the gardens.”

  Lilly smiled and kissed Elizabeth. The child merely released a tiny sigh and Evan had to swallow hard to force the knot in his throat down.

  “Come and find me,” she said with a tilted smile. “Maybe the marquess shall receive more than a kiss if he is lucky.”

  He shook his head as he carried Elizabeth out of the drawing room and up the stairs to the nursery. That woman would be the death of him but what a sweet, sweet death it would be. Mary greeted him in the nursery and held out her hands to take the child but Evan shook his head and laid her down himself. He watched her for several moments as she stretched and settled, her pudgy arms coming to rest above her head.

  Who could believe such a small and delicate thing could command him so easily? Funny to think of the effect she and Lilly had over him. To be certain his wife still enjoyed riling him but he found himself better able to manage his temper now he had two beautiful women in his life.

  He slipped a finger into Elizabeth’s open hand and relished the natural flex of her tiny fingers. “I have great expectations of you, you know,” he whispered. “Perhaps you shall be the first Hawksley woman to become a doctor. Though” —he withdrew his finger from hers — “I suspect I shall be proud of you no matter what you do.”

  Satisfied she slept on, Evan straightened and tried to ignore the soft look Mary gave him. “Be sure not to let her sleep past noon,” he said in his sternest voice. The child became irritable if she missed her midday feed.

  “Of course, my lord.”

  Knowing his daughter would only give them a short amount of time together, Evan hastened downstairs and out into the gardens. He scanned the ground and saw a flutter of pale blue. The damned minx was toying with him. He raced after her and caught her behind the box hedging that lined the pathway. Evan snatched her arm and thrust her up against the topiary. Lilly giggled and attempted briefly to push him away before relenting and allowing him to capture her mouth.

  “Is she sleeping?” she asked breathlessly between kisses.

  “She is, so we have a very short while together.”

  “I am sure it shall be more than enough time for what I have planned for you, my lord.”

  “And what would that be?”

  She wriggled out from his hold and scampered off, calling to him, “Follow me and you shall find out.”

  Evan groaned and gave chase, knowing full well he would follow the woman he loved anywhere.

  THE END

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  Samantha lives in a small village in England with her twin girls and a Dachshund called Duke. She has been writing for a living for over three years now and enjoys being able to use it as an excuse to wear pyjamas during the day. While the heroes in her books are very much fictional, she likes to draw inspiration from the history around her. Living near several wonderful castles and stately homes, she can never fail to be inspired.

  Alexandra

  Lauren Royal

  and

  Devon Royal

  Novelty Books

  Prologue

  Cainewood Castle, the South of England

  Summer 1812

  It was almost like touching him.

  Lady Alexandra Chase usually sketched a profile in just a few minutes, but she took her time today, lingering over her work in the darkened room. Standing on one side of a large, framed pane of glass while Tristan sat sideways on the other, she traced his shadow cast by the glow of a candle. Her pencil followed his strong chin, his long, straight nose, the wide slope of his forehead, capturing his image on the sheet of paper she’d tacked to her side of the glass. Noticing a stray lock that tumbled down his brow, she hesitated, wanting to make certain she caught it just right.

  Someone walked by the open door, causing Tris’s shadow to flicker as the candle wavered. “Are you finished yet?” he asked from behind the glass panel.

  “Hold still,” she admonished. “Artistry requires patience.”

  “It’s just a profile.”

  Alexandra flushed, though she knew better than to take offense. He was simply impatient. He’d always been an admirer of her work.

  As well he should be. Alexandra made excellent profile portraits.

  ”You promised you’d sit still,” she reminded him, injecting authority into her girlish voice. “Just this once before you leave.” She’d been asking Tris to sit for her for months, but he never seemed to have the time. This would be her only chance.

  “I’m sitting,” he s
aid, and although his profile remained immobile, she could hear amusement in his tone.

  She loved his good-humored forbearance, just like she loved everything about Tris Nesbitt.

  She’d been eight when they first met. Her favorite brother, Griffin, had brought him home between school terms. In the six years since, as he and Griffin completed Eton and then Oxford, Tris had visited often, claiming to prefer his friend’s large family to the quiet home he shared with his father.

  Alexandra couldn’t remember when she’d fallen in love, but she felt like she’d loved Tris forever.

  Of course, nothing would come of it. Now, at fourteen, she was mature enough to accept that her eminent father, the Marquess of Cainewood, would never allow her to marry plain Mr. Tristan Nesbitt.

  But that didn’t stop her from wishing. It didn’t stop her stomach from tingling when she heard his voice, didn’t stop her heart from skipping when he looked at her with his silver-gray eyes.

  Not that he looked at her often. After all, as far as he was concerned she was little more than Griffin’s pesky younger sister.

  Knowing Tris couldn’t see her now, she skimmed her fingertips over his silhouette, wishing she were touching him instead. She’d never touched him, not in real life. Such intimacy simply didn’t occur between young ladies and gentlemen. Most especially between a marquess’s daughter and a commoner.

  The drawing room’s draperies were shut, and the low light seemed to enclose them together—alone!—in the room. She desperately wanted to say something clever or diverting, something he would remember after they parted. But she could think of nothing. ”Where are you going again?” she asked instead, although she knew.

  Let him think she’d barely noticed he was leaving.

  “Jamaica.” He sounded excited. “My uncle wishes me to look after his interests there. I’m to learn how his plantation is run.”