by Abigail Agar
The Captain of Her Betrayed Heart
A REGENCY ROMANCE NOVEL
ABIGAIL AGAR
Copyright © 2018 by Abigail Agar
All Rights Reserved.
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Website: Abigail Agar
Table of Contents
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The Captain of Her Betrayed Heart
Introduction
After what should have been one of the happiest nights of her life turned tragic, Gwyn decides to run away from England and everything she knew and loved. For four years, she lived in India far away from memories of the man who had broken her heart to pieces. But, then an urgent letter suddenly arrives and beckons her to return home! Her family is in shambles and her father sick. She has little choice but to do her part and step back into society. That would have been a lot easier, if Jack Shelton, the man who taught her to put trust in no one, had not returned from war. How can she move on when her thoughts seem determined to surround the man?
Four years ago, Jack decided to join the army, when the woman he had loved fiercely had fled with no sign as to why. Now it’s time Jack returns home, to find himself in an unexpected situation. Not only did his family call upon him to redeem their name, but Jack is also forced to face Gwyn Stanton. This woman left him questioning everything, when she raced off to India without a word as to why she had broken off their engagement. As much as Jack tries to do what he must for his family’s sake, Gwyn is everywhere. Why does she seem to hate him so much?
The announcements of Jack’s impending betrothal and Gwyn’s own ardent suitor seem to mean the end for everything that Jack and Gwyn might rekindle… but can this love really be buried? Will they show their true feelings to each other after all these years?
Chapter 1
(Four Years Earlier)
England’s rains did not abate even if Gwyn had hoped they would. She had just returned from being abroad with her aunt and waited breathlessly for the rain to let up so that she could cross the fields that separated her family home from the home of her love, Jack Shelton. Gwyn leaned her petite frame against the window that overlooked the fields and watched the rain pour out of the clouds.
At the tender age of sixteen, Gwyn was bursting with the excitement that only one of her age could muster as her mother looked on with a patient smile. Gwyn and Jack had been friends since childhood, having grown up at the same time. They had played in the same forest and creeks, having adventures with pretend swashbucklers, or sometimes they were the pirates.
Now, though, Gwyn was eager to see Jack and tell him of her trip abroad. She was just as eager to hold his hand and see that sparkle of amusement in his green eyes. Jack was only a few years her senior, but their families were expecting a betrothal between them soon. It was all Gwyn could do not to rush across the field and beat Jack to the asking. Gwyn knew that simply was not done, but waiting for the question was unbearable.
Gwyn sighed. It was much like waiting for the heavens to stop their torrential downpour. No, Gwyn would just have to wait. Her mother was watching her, and Gwyn would ruin her brand new dress, the dress that Gwyn had picked out in India specifically for Jack to see her in.
The rain finally seemed to slow, and Gwyn beamed with happiness as she ripped open the door and raced off across the field with her mother’s warning ringing in her ears, “Slow down, or you will fall, Gwyneth!”
Gwyn ran as fast as she dared and prayed fervently that the clouds kept their peace just a bit longer. By the time she reached the property line and slipped through the trees onto the Shelton family lands, Gwyn’s breath was coming in short puffs. She regretted immensely trying to run in the tight corset, but she persevered. She could see the familiar outline of Jack up ahead on the balcony, and her heart soared that he had waited for her there.
It was when she was almost to the edge of the light from the balcony window that she stopped cold and stared in disbelief. Jack was not alone, and although his back was to her, Gwyn could hear the distinct giggle that only a female could make when preening for a lover.
Gwyn found herself rooted for a moment. The world stood still. There was no sound. In her mind, she screamed with pain and fury, but no sound came out of her mouth. Gwyn turned and ran. She ran blindly as tears stung her eyes.
When she came in the door, she did not entertain her mother’s concerned gaze. Gwyn dashed upstairs and began ripping the dress from her with such ferocity that the chambermaid covered her mouth in fear at the young woman. “Mistress!” the chambermaid said in a whispered exclamation of shock. “Please, Miss, calm yourself, and let me help you. You’ll ruin your beautiful gown.”
“I want to ruin it,” Gwyn growled as she tore at the seams. She fought and struggled, but to her dismay most of the seams held. The maid helped her wriggle out of the dress, and Gwyn soon stood in only her corset and petticoat, her chest heaving as tears slid down her face.
The chambermaid looked at Gwyn in worry. “Is something the matter, Miss?”
“No,” Gwyn choked out. “Leave me.”
The maid looked conflicted as she eyed the half-dressed young woman. “Don’t you want me to find you something to wear?”
“Fine,” Gwyn huffed as she wiped her eyes. It was clear that the maid was not going to leave her be until she was properly attired. The maid quickly fetched a simple dress that Gwyn often favoured when she was just at home. As the maid helped her dress, Gwyn just kept seeing Jack’s betrayal. How could he?
By the time she was properly attired, Gwyn had set her mind on what she must do. Everyone always said she was as stubborn as her father, well maybe she was. Gwyn stomped downstairs and found her mother waiting for her in the sitting room on one of the soft couches. The woman looked up almost expectantly at her daughter.
“Mother, I have a confession to make,” Gwyn said as she folded her hands primly in front of her. Her curly brown hair, still quite drenched from the damp night she had just been out in, clung to the sides of her face.
Lady Stanton eyed her daughter curiously. “What sort of confession have you brought back to England with you?”
Gwyn swallowed and forced the lie from her lips, “I have become quite taken with an English missionary back in India. I wish to return there and live with Aunt Mabel.”
“Is that so?” Lady Stanton asked in a measured tone. “I did not acquire that impression from my sister’s letters. She went on at length to say how excited you were to come home to your young man.” Lady Stanton lifted a teacup from a silver tray that was set before her on a low table.
Gwyn loathed that her mother always seemed to see right through her, but she held her ground. “My aunt is not nearly as perceptive as you, Mother. She does miss things from time to time. I stand by what I say, and I would like to return to India. One might say that I wish never to set foot in England again,” Gw
yn said the last part with feeling.
Lady Stanton looked up at Gwyn and watched her daughter’s face for a moment before she dipped her head. “I see no reason that a young lady such as you should not have the experience of living abroad if she chooses,” Lady Stanton said in a way that made Gwyn feel as if the woman knew all her deepest and darkest secrets.
Gwyn’s eyes went to the floor to keep her mother from peering right into her soul and see the horrible sight of Jack’s betrayal laid bare. “Thank you for understanding, Mother,” Gwyn said softly.
“What should we tell young Lord Shelton when he comes to see why you have forsaken England?” Lady Stanton asked with a deeply curious look. “Or is that what you were so eager to go to Shelton Hall for this evening? Saying your goodbyes, were you?”
With a slow, measured breath, just like her mother had taught her, Gwyn kept her calm exterior in place. She nodded. “I was going to, but I lost my nerve, I fear. I would be most appreciative if the message could merely be passed onto him.”
“I would think that after all this time, you would want to tell him yourself, dear daughter,” Lady Stanton said in a disapproving click of her tongue. “You and he have been close your whole lives. Will he not be upset that you have changed plans on him?”
“I didn’t change plans, he did—” Gwyn said before she could catch herself.
Lady Stanton eyed Gwyn steadily before she said, “I see. He shall be given your message. I will make arrangements for you to return to your aunt’s abode in India, but do understand that never coming back to England is not an option, Gwyneth. After all, you and your missionary husband,” Lady Stanton said with a knowing smile, “will have to take over the estate one day.”
***
Jack knew very well that Gwyn had returned home the day before. He had seen the carriage. Jack had been expecting the girl as soon as the rains let up, but there had been not a peep out of her. Jack stomped up the steps in the garden towards the main house and rolled his eyes as he spotted his brother Henry stealing around with that chambermaid again. “Henry,” Jack called.
Henry visibly jumped, and the maid ducked back into the house. “Ah, Jack,” Henry said as he straightened his jacket even though it was not out of place. “Still on the lookout for your lady?”
“Mother has warned you about frolicking with the help,” Jack hissed as he stepped up onto the stone balcony beside his brother. “You’ll cost that girl her job, just like the one before and the one before that.”
Henry scoffed, “Oh come on, old man. It’s just a bit of fun.”
“You have a very warped idea of what fun is if you think it is worth the lives of those girls and the families they are trying to support,” Jack chastised.
Henry sighed and gave up on Jack as he turned to go back into the house. “If you are going to be so damnable ill, why don’t you just go over there and call on Gwyn?” Henry threw the unwanted advice over his shoulder as he sauntered back inside.
Jack sighed heavily and looked over at Stanton Manor. The house was half-hidden by the trees along the lines of the two properties. Perhaps he really should go see what the issue was that had kept Gwyn at bay.
***
Stanton Manor stood tall and foreboding. The manor house had always looked welcoming to Jack, but today it stood grey and cold against the blue skies. Jack chided himself for feeling so nervous, but there was still a cold, leaden feeling in the pit of his stomach as he approached the door and took the iron knocker in his hand.
The sound had barely echoed when Fulton, the Stantons’ doorman, pulled the door open. Fulton gave Jack a look that unsettled him. It was as if Fulton were judging Jack for some crime that he was unaware of, and Jack had the distinct urge to ask the man if anything was amiss.
Jack cleared his throat. “I’m here to call on Miss Stanton. I am concerned for her as she did not come to the house yesterday when I expected her,” Jack said, hoping that he sounded very courteous. It was hard to maintain full manners with people that Jack had grown up around. Fulton had watched Jack grow over the years, and Jack had never seen the look of disdain that now settled on the man’s face.
“A moment,” Fulton said in his thick accent before he shut the door and disappeared back inside the house.
Jack stood uncomfortably. He had never been left standing on the steps of the house before. Jack began to fear that something was dreadfully wrong and his palms sweated as his mind raced. Had something happened to Gwyn? Jack was envisioning all sorts of reasons why Gwyn might not have returned home when the door once again opened.
Instead of Gwyn, Jack looked into the disapproving eyes of the young woman’s mother, Lady Stanton, who stood tall and neatly dressed in a green gown with her hair braided and twisted around in an elegant spiral. “My daughter is not available, Mr Shelton. She is resting before so that she can leave early for her trip,” Lady Stanton said imperiously.
Jack frowned in confusion. “I am sorry. Did you say trip? I thought she had just returned. That is why I am here. I expected her last evening, but she never came. Is something the matter?” Jack was growing increasingly concerned with the coldness of the household, but at least Gwyn was okay as far as they would say. “Is she ill?”
“My daughter is perfectly healthy, Mr Shelton,” Lady Stanton assured Jack. “She did return home yesterday, but she insists on returning to India at once. She is rather eager to be back with her betrothed.”
The words stilled Jack’s heart. He fought to keep his expression polite but pain seared through him. “Betrothed?” Jack repeated the word, questioned it and held it up in front of Lady Stanton asking her to explain why she would say such a thing.
Lady Stanton heaved a sigh. “Yes. She expressed a fondness for an English missionary, and she wishes to return to India to live for at least the present time,” Lady Stanton said primly. “This really is none of your business, Mr Shelton. My daughter and yourself are not engaged, after all.”
“You know very well that I intended to ask for her hand in marriage when she returned from India,” Jack said losing all pretence of the polite refrain. How could the woman stand there so cold and tell him that Gwyn had suddenly decided to forsake him and move to India for some man that she had met while on holiday?
Lady Stanton’s shoulders lifted as she spoke, “It is nigh to impossible to control the wants of the heart, Mr Shelton. Perhaps if you had asked her sooner, then she would not be going back to India.”
“Can I speak with Gwyn?” Jack practically begged. There had to be some sort of misunderstanding. He and Gwyn were destined to be. They had been childhood friends long before they had become sweethearts, no there had to be something he could do. He could not just idly sit by while Gwyn threw everything away.
Lady Stanton’s expression softened with something akin to pity, but she held firm. “I do apologize, Mr Shelton, but as I said my daughter is resting. I will give her your regards when she awakens.”
Jack finally just nodded realizing that he was not going to be stepping foot into the house. He turned and walked away in a fog of numbness. Jack felt adrift and lost. If there had been one anchor in his life, it had been Gwyneth. She had always been his future. Now, what was he to do?
***
Gwyneth saw Jack leave. The slump of the man’s shoulders and how his head hanged down tugged at her heart. She longed to run to him and give him another chance, but every time she thought of it, Gwyn, in turn, thought of Jack on the balcony with that other woman. Jealousy ran cold in her veins as the hurt burned through her heart. No. She could not go back to Jack after what he had done.
Gwyn’s mother had often told her that men were frivolous things prone to mischievous pursuits and dalliances with mistresses. Of course, Gwyn had merely thought that perhaps that was just other men. Jack had never seemed the sort, and he had always seemed as devoted to Gwyn as she was to him.
Shaking her head, Gwyn turned her back on the window and threw herself across the bed. It was
a terribly dramatic thing to do, but Gwyn did not care. No one was there to see her, and she had no interest in listening to anyone at the moment, so that was just as well.
