by Laura Landon
Avery and Lawrence waited until she was out of earshot.
“You give her back to me in one week. I’ll make sure she has the funds and the means to return home safely,” Avery whispered.
“That’s just it,” Lawrence shot back. “She has no home. Her parents were murdered by a man they trusted. She barely made it out of there alive, only to be kidnapped and sold. That’s not a place she can safely return to. She’ll end up being sold somewhere else, if not killed.”
Avery placed a hand on Lawrence’s shoulder. “I understand. You’ve acted surprisingly noble, brother.” Lawrence flinched at his brother’s tone. He wasn’t a damned hero, but he wasn’t a bastard, either. Avery didn’t notice his reaction and continued. “But your duties are at an end. The ring that brought her here has been smashed. I assure you, she will be safe now. It’s not as though my people don’t have connections in Persia. I promise to see her safely settled and looked after.”
Lawrence didn’t trust those connections. He felt responsible for his Zehra. Letting her leave sounded like a terrible idea.
“You hear me, Lawrence? I’ll be forced to come and get her if you don’t bring her to me.”
Avery stared his brother down, but Lawrence didn’t respond, let alone flinch. Avery might be a spy, but Lawrence was still the older brother. He was not about to lose this silent war.
“Tell Mother I’m sorry to miss breakfast.” Avery walked away, leaving Lawrence standing there, hands balled into fists. He took several slow breaths before he felt calm enough to go into the dining room. His mother was already seated at the table, eating a poached egg and a few pieces of toast with marmalade.
“Come and sit, dear.” She patted the chair beside her.
“Mother, you know how much I love to see you, but—”
Jane chuckled. “I’m certain I am interrupting something, possibly a tryst with a mistress, but she can wait. You will sit and dine with me while I explain to you what news I have.”
Lawrence flung himself into a chair with a groan, but he did not eat. He would wait for Zehra.
“Well, what news do you have?”
His mother looked down her nose at him, as though tempted to remind him of his place, but she didn’t. “Your brother Lucien is settled and happy with a babe on the way. I want that for all my children.”
“Let me guess. You found some young lady who would be perfect for me?”
“Exactly.” She flashed him a winning smile. “She’s lovely and smart, quite a dear.”
He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “I’m sure this woman is lovely, Mother, but I’m not ready to settle down.”
“So said your brother.” Jane took a sip of tea as though she were trying to hide a smile.
“Lucien was already madly in love with his future wife. He simply refused to acknowledge it. I’ve never felt that way about any woman.”
He toyed with an empty teacup, his gaze unfocused as he traced the thumb of the blue-and-white pattern on the porcelain. If I take Zehra and run off to Brighton or somewhere far away, we wouldn’t have to be bothered with this nonsense. The idea of taking Zehra somewhere where they could be alone was so tempting at the moment, he had to force himself to remain in his chair.
“You cannot find a future wife by pining away like this.”
“I’m twenty-nine, Mother. A man my age does not pine. Besides, I have plenty of luck with the ladies.”
“Luck? Heavens, dear, being a bachelor and having mistresses isn’t luck. Any decent woman with two eyes in her head would want you. You’re attractive and well off, but that’s not what I want for you. You should be happy—”
“I am!” Lawrence growled.
“You’re not. You wouldn’t be growling like a grumpy old spaniel if you were. You’re pining away, and you just don’t wish to admit it.”
“Pining implies there’s a woman I love whom I cannot have, and that is certainly not the case.” Even as he said this, he couldn’t help but think of Zehra, a woman he wanted desperately. But he knew well enough not to confuse that with love.
“Well, perhaps you should be. Men are always improved when they marry. A wife settles you, gives you a purpose and joy.”
He chuckled. “Only to some. You were lucky when you married Papa. Others are foolish enough to marry for money or social advancement. You cannot find a woman at Almack’s after just one dance and know that she is the one you want to spend the rest of your life with.”
“You certainly can. That’s exactly how I met your father.”
His father. The perfect husband, the perfect father—the shadow he left over his sons was too large for any to escape.
“Mother, not all of us will live up to your standards. We can’t all be just like him. I’m not even your favorite, so why waste your time on me?”
The sharp rattle of a teacup clattering on its saucer made him look her way. Her eyes were narrowed.
“I do not have favorites. How can you say that?”
Regret stung him. “I’m sorry, Mother. I’m just… I had very little sleep last night. Why don’t we have tea tomorrow?” He offered her an olive branch, hoping she would accept. He did adore her, even when she was constantly interfering in his life.
Jane smiled. “Tea?”
“Or dinner, or whatever you wish.” He rubbed his temples as a fresh headache began to pound behind his eyes.
“Well, you could come to Lord Raleigh’s ball tonight and meet this young woman. Her name is Miss Hunt.” The scheming gleam was back in her eyes, and he knew better than to resist.
“Very well. I’ll come. But one dance, do you hear? If Miss Hunt proves uninteresting, that should be the end of the matter.”
“Of course,” she agreed. “Now, what was really going on between you and Avery?”
He tsked and waved a finger at her. “You only get one favor from me today, Mother. I shall not be telling you anything else.”
“So be it. But take care, Lawrence. The bonds of brotherhood should be forever. If you mistreat yours, you might lose him.”
“The same should be said to him,” Lawrence grumbled.
“It will be.” She drank the remnants of her tea and then collected her gloves and stood. Lawrence got to his feet and leaned in to kiss his mother’s cheek.
“See you this evening. Don’t be late.”
“Yes, Mother.” He escorted her to the door and watched her leave. Only after her coach carried her far away did he rush back upstairs to his chambers with a tray of food.
Zehra was reading again, wearing that awful gown from the brothel. Well, it wasn’t awful, but it was far too tempting in all the wrong ways. She needed new clothes fit for a princess, not a lightskirt.
“Zehra, I was planning to have the modiste come here to fit you for gowns, but perhaps you should like to go out, get a bit of fresh air?” he placed the tray on the table and walked over to her.
Zehra’s eyes flashed with excitement. “Could we?” She set the novel down and was on her feet in an instant. The smile made his heart swell against his ribs. Was it possible to feel too happy?
“Yes, I thought it might be nice to spend the day out on the town, buy you whatever you need. I’m afraid I’ve got to go out tonight, but…” At least I could spend the day with you.
“Thank you, my lord.” She rushed over to him and curled her arms around his neck. For a moment, he was stunned, unsure what to do or say. It was an innocent embrace, yet it was a wicked temptation to him as well. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close. Her hair carried a soft floral scent, and he longed to bury his nose in those silken tresses.
“Why don’t you have some breakfast, and then we’ll take my coach to Bond Street when you’re ready.”
Zehra released him and he did the same, hating that he had to let her go. It was so unlike him. He wasn’t the sort who clung to women, and he certainly didn’t like women hanging on him, but with Zehra, he was discovering his usual preferences were
no longer applicable.
She seated herself in the chair by the fire and ate her breakfast. Lawrence intended to join her in the companion chair.
“Was that your brother?”
He froze at her question, his hands holding the book he’d retrieved from the chair before he sat down.
“Er…yes. How did you know?”
She tilted her head. “I was worried when you didn’t return. I came down the stairs a little and heard you quarreling…over me.” Rather than look embarrassed, she met his gaze with a flinty resolve.
Lawrence knew he had to tell her the truth. “My brother is…well…he is involved in services for His Majesty, and it was he who sent me to the White House. I was not supposed to bid on anyone, only observe. He was to come later with the Bow Street Runners and a magistrate to catch both the slavers and the buyers together.”
“And he is angry because you bought me?” Those eyes of hers were haunting, so steady and sure.
“Yes, he’s quite furious with me.” Lawrence stroked the spine of the novel in his hands. “Our tempers got a tad out of hand.”
Zehra made a soft sound that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle.
“You don’t have any siblings, do you?” he asked.
She nibbled on a piece of toast and shook her head. “My mother had a second child, a son, but he died of a fever at six months. He was a beautiful baby, and even though I was only four years old when he passed, I adored him. I still remember his brown eyes, warm and bright like my father’s.” Her voice became raw with emotion. Lawrence shifted in his chair beside her, amazed at how easily he could sit and talk with her, even of painful things.
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. As you would say, he is with God now, and I am sure he is happy.” She raised her eyes to his again, and he loved the way her dark lashes framed those bright-blue eyes, almost the color of turquoise.
“And you? One brother? Or do you have more?” She had banished the ghosts of her past again, amazing him with her strength.
“I have several siblings. My oldest brother, Lucien, is the Marquess of Rochester. He’s thirty-three. My brother Avery is younger than me by two years. He’s twenty-seven. And then there’s Linus, who is twenty-one, and Lysandra is nineteen.”
“So many?” Zehra’s eyes widened. “It must be wonderful to have that many siblings. My mother had a brother and a sister, but I’ve never had the chance to meet them. My father was an only child. It has been lonely in many ways.”
“Well you aren’t alone now,” he murmured. She would never be alone again, if he could help it.
“No, I’m not alone anymore.” Her eyes began to shimmer again, and he cursed himself, hating that he had brought her pain back to the surface while he’d tried to offer comfort.
Her lips curved into a soft smile. “You must stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Looking at me that way, as though I’m a fragile little eyas.”
“Eyas?”
“A fledgling hawk, not yet ready to leave the nest. Do you not have hawks here?”
He chuckled. “We do. But not too many gentlemen pursue falconry these days.”
She drank some of the hot chocolate he’d brought her with her breakfast. “Only men?”
“Well, mostly men. I suppose a few ladies in the country might indulge in the sport. I take it you did back in Persia?” He could easily picture her with a falcon on her arm, queen of the birds of prey. Lord, that would have been a stunning vision.
“I was quite the expert. My bird, Azar, was named after fire. She was beautiful. I don’t know what became of her after the fire. I hope the birds escaped. I didn’t leave her or the others hooded at night.”
“I’m sure she’s all right. Birds, especially hawks, are clever creatures.”
“They are.” She turned to him. She’d finished the last bit of her breakfast. “What did your brother say that upset you?”
Damn, he’d hoped she’d forgotten.
“Zehra…” he began, dreading every word. “I have to send you home.”
“No!” She rose from the chair and fell at his feet, clutching his hands in hers.
“Not right away! Not until we are sure you will be safe.”
“No, please, let me stay! I will be safer here.”
Her begging tore at his heart. “I would, but it’s not up to me. Avery is in a position of power, and his people are trying to avoid an incident with your country. If he insists that you go, then I can’t stop him from taking you. I have convinced him to give us a week.”
“A week…” She clenched his hands tighter, and he encouraged her to rise. He never wanted this woman to prostrate herself before him or any man.
“I have seven days to see to your happiness, Zehra, in whatever way I can. I’ve already failed to keep my word on everything else and…” He swallowed hard past the lump in his throat. When he looked upon her now, he knew it wasn’t simple lust he felt as he’d originally thought. She made him want to be a better man, a man worthy of her. “As I said, my brother’s people are doing all they can to make sure you will be safe. You can trust him.”
“Seven days will be enough,” she whispered, and then she did something he never could have expected. She leaned into him and kissed his startled lips. The meeting was brief yet full of heated hope. A kiss had never been like this, never so real, so eternal, yet over too soon. When she pulled back, he stared at her, stunned.
“Zehra, you mustn’t think that you need to do that.”
Her shy smile now held a hint of boldness. “I do not wish to make you beholden unto me, or to win your favor. I believe you when you say your brother has captured those who enslaved me and that his people will do what they can to return me safely home. But if I must leave, then I wish to have some joy before I go. With you.”
He understood what she was telling him. This still might have been borne from her desperate desire to stay, but if their time together was to be so brief, then why shouldn’t they enjoy it?
“As you wish,” he promised, gazing deep into her eyes. If he’d ever had a moment of doubt that she was a princess, those doubts were banished now. No matter what Avery said, she was royalty.
I will give you one week of joy before you go, my princess.
Chapter Six
Lord George Lyon, the Earl of Denbruck, sat in his comfortable leather armchair in the drawing room, watching his son and daughter with their spouses and children play snapdragon. His eyes drank in the sight of his happy family. At the age of seventy-two, he was getting on in years, but staying young was easy when he spent time around his grandchildren.
“Father?” His son, Archibald, came over, holding out a letter. “This came for you. The footman left it on the table, but I believe you missed it.”
“Thank you, Archie.” George took the letter, studying the seal upon the parchment, and his heart jolted. It was a seal he had not seen in almost two months, yet he’d longed to see it every day. He struggled to open the letter hastily but without damaging it. As he began to read, the world around him seemed to fade into a gray recess.
Lord Denbruck,
It is with a heavy heart that I must share the fate of your daughter, Joan, and her husband, Rafay. They were killed in a raid by a rival power in the region who now claims his lands. Your granddaughter, Zehra, is among the missing. Our men have searched through the bodies and could not find her. We believe she has been taken, as many of the females in the palace were, to be sold into slavery. I will make it my mission to find her, or, that failing, at least to learn what happened to her.
Yours faithfully,
Michael Southerby
George let the note drop from his fingers as his eyes blurred with tears.
“Papa?” His daughter Elizabeth joined Archie at his side. “What’s the matter?”
“Take the little ones. I…” He choked. “I need to speak with you both alone.”
Archie’s wife and Elizabe
th’s husband collected their children and took them away. Once they were alone, George begged his children to sit. He pointed to the parchment on the floor, which Archie bent to retrieve.
“Read it.” George could only whisper the words.
Archie scanned the letter, his eyes widening. Without a word he handed it to his sister.
“Joan is dead?” Elizabeth gasped. Archie put a comforting arm around her.
“Father, what happened?” Archie’s voice grew rough with pain.
It took every bit of George’s strength to speak to his two remaining children and tell them everything.
“Ever since your sister married Rafay Darzi, I’ve been keeping an eye on them. An old friend’s son, Michael Southerby, has been stationed in Persia close to their home. He has been watching over Joan and Rafay whenever time allowed.”
“For all these years?” Elizabeth asked. “You told us you had disowned her for marrying Rafay.”
He had, to his shame and regret, not been comfortable with his eldest child marrying a foreigner, even if he had been a shah of the territory. Joan had married Rafay and walked away from her English life. It had broken George’s heart as well as his wife’s. She had died two years later, Joan’s name upon her lips as she breathed her last.
“I had said I would…but I could not let her go, not without knowing she and her daughter were safe.”
“She had a daughter?” Archie asked quietly. “We have a niece?”
“Yes. Zehra is twenty years old now. Lovely girl, according to the reports. Smart as a whip too. Southerby says she has her mother’s eyes.” George shook with grief. “And now she’s gone. Southerby is a good man, but I fear he will never be able to track her down, assuming she’s still alive.”
Elizabeth’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh God, oh, the poor dear. Is there really nothing to be done?”
“We would do whatever we could to help, Father,” Archie added.
George bowed his head. “If I could fly back on the wings of time to that night Joan said she had accepted Rafay’s proposal, I wouldn’t have pushed her away. Everything might have been different if I hadn’t let my damned pride get in the way.”
