The Rake’s Hesitant Bride: Historical Regency Romance (Ladybirds of Birdwell Book 2)

by Ella Edon

  But to the complete astonishment of both men, both of the women simply pretended that they had heard nothing and walked on towards the doorway. Neither of them so much as curtsied in return. Miss Robbins had cut James dead, and Miss Henson had done exactly the same to Mr. Bird.

  It was almost like what had happened with his ex-fiancé Miss Stone. James felt just as betrayed as he had before. Even more so, because his feelings for Miss Robbins had been, he thought, stronger.

  Something very strange was going on here. He wanted to demand an explanation from her, immediately.

  Mr. Bird seemed equally stunned by the behavior of the two women, but James was not so easily convinced. Something was putting these two normally polite and respectable young ladies up to this shocking behavior of provoking jealousy.

  Maybe it was Mr. Bird, who was encouraging Miss Robbins to do these things. He had a very tough streak, James knew, and she had been spending most of her time with him this evening. He knew very well that Miss Henson would attempt to outdo whatever Miss Robbins did in an effort to outshine her, so that would explain why she might behave just as strangely.

  With an angry stare, Mr. Bird started to move past James and follow the two women. But with one step, James blocked his path. The two of them glared fiercely at one another, each of them refusing to move, until a couple of the other guests began to notice.

  The conversations nearest them began to quiet down. Mr. Bird took one more step and James pushed one finger into the other man's chest.

  Their tempers flared. Mr. Bird started to push back. James forgot that he was in his parents' house, that he was at a ball, that he was surrounded by formally dressed men and beautiful ladies in their best gowns.

  It was as if the world began to turn red.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Suddenly, James found himself surrounded by other young men, who quickly hustled him out of the ballroom. In a moment, he was being half-pushed and half-carried down the hallway and out through the front door of the house.

  He started to resist, once out in the cool night air – "Let me go! This is my own home!" – but he was forcefully walked all the way around to the back of the house, in the darkness and faint moonlight.

  James and Mr. Bird found themselves standing in the darkness at the back of the house with the group of men who had dragged them out there.

  They were well away from the windows. The guests would not see or hear them. The only light back here came from the shadowy full moon and from a few small lanterns and candles arranged at the rear windows of the house.

  James was vaguely aware that Miss Robbins and Miss Henson had followed the small crowd, but had no time to think about either one of them now.

  His blood was up. Standing in the middle of the circle of men, watching Mr. Bird's silhouetted form, James threw off his coat and ripped his cravat loose, so that it hung open. His fists clenched tightly, and he fixed the other man with a cold smile.

  "You have tried to turn her against me," James began. "I invited Miss Robbins here as my guest. Why do you move in on her in such a way?"

  "Is she yours, then? Have you asked her to marry you?"

  "I have not. But – "

  "Then the choice is hers," said Mr. Bird, his voice rasping with anger. "Besides, I understood that it was Miss Henson that you invited here as your guest. She was to meet your parents! Do you intend to ask her to marry you?"

  "Whom I propose to is no concern of yours. Will you leave Miss Robbins alone, then?"

  Mr. Bird just laughed, but it was ominous and cold. "I certainly will not. Will you leave Miss Henson alone, then?"

  "I will do as I please and so will she." James stepped towards Mr. Bird and began circling around him.

  "Do you want her?" said Mr. Bird, raising his fists.

  "It is not your concern whom I want!" shouted James.

  “Then leave them alone!"

  "You will tell me no such thing! You will not interfere in any way! I will not allow it!"

  Mr. Bird laughed. "I don't think you will do any such thing. You don't have it in you. You're a gentleman’s son. You never fought for anything! While I am fighting for –”

  "Fighting for what, Bird? For being the first to slop the hogs every morning and every night for the rest of your life? Fighting for what?"

  Mr. Bird hesitated, but only for an instant. "I am fighting for – for the freedom to dance with any girl who is neither married nor engaged! No matter who that girl is! And neither you nor any other man will stop me!"

  Somewhere behind him, James heard Miss Henson wail – and then suddenly stop as Miss Robbins hissed at her. But he could not spare a glance for them. "Then why pursue a woman whom you know I am interested in!"

  Mr. Bird grinned, but it was menacing. "Whom do you speak of, Brookford? Miss Henson? Or Miss Robbins?"

  "I might ask you the same question," said James. "What are your intentions towards these women? Do you lead them on, letting each one believe you might marry them, when in truth you intend to leave once your time playing with them is done?"

  Mr. Bird's fury grew. "You accuse me of leading a woman on? I may not be a gentleman's son, as you are, but I would do no such thing. The worst cads I've ever seen have been men of higher birth than yours. All that you accuse me of, Brookford, I will sling right back at you as I do the slops I throw at my hogs!"

  He started closing the distance between himself and James, as both men continued to circle each other. "You are right. I am nothing but a hog farmer, while you are the son of this estate. YOU are a barrister!

  "I believe you are leading Sally on!" Mr. Bird cried. "I believe you are pursuing her because she is only an egg farmer's daughter, and you feel you can make her your plaything while having no intention of ever marrying her! It is not fair for you to treat her so, to make her think that a future Viscount might marry her!"

  Miss Henson cried out, in shock and humiliation, and Miss Robbins quietened her again.

  "How dare you accuse me of such behavior," James told him, his anger rising even further. "Do you intend to ask Miss Robbins to marry you, or do you play with her to raise your lot in life? Do you pursue her to become the owner of the inn?!”

  Mr. Bird fairly growled at him on hearing that.

  "Even if I am the son of this estate, why shouldn't I marry any of these young women from the countryside? Do you say they are not good enough to live at Albany House? How dare you insult them in such a way! Why shouldn't I marry any country girl I might wish to?"

  "This is why!" Finally Mr. Bird threw the first punch, straight at James's head.

  The battle was on, inside the moonlit circle formed by the other men who stood watching. Merope pulled Sally back from the circle as Mr. Brookford and Mr. Bird charged and roared at each other like two bulls.

  Daniel was not so tall, but he was very broad and strong, while Mr. Brookford had height and a longer reach – and a somewhat cooler head, though not by much.

  Merope watched in both horror and fascination as the men attacked each other. Mr. Brookford was usually so calm and gentle in her acquaintance with him, it was incredible now to see him with his white shirt half ripped open to show his bare chest, his muscles flexing, and a trickle of blood running down his face from where Daniel had struck him.

  He swung hard with arms strong as iron and gave back to Daniel as good as the other man gave him. The sweat and blood flew as they attacked each other, with both men fully determined to be the victor.

  Merope was beginning to regret dancing with Daniel in an effort to provoke Mr. Brookford to jealousy. I am no better than Sally, who stayed at Mr. Brookford's elbow the entire evening trying to provoke Daniel the same way!

  Now, the little game that she and Sally had thought to play was ending in blood and pain for the men they had toyed with – and each of them was getting beaten over a girl who was not the one he truly wanted.

  It seemed to Merope – when Mr. Brookford took a breath and glanced at her – th
at his anger was beginning to shift away from Daniel and more at the situation itself. He had been goaded into this ridiculous fight by two silly girls and now was brawling like a docker with a man that he really had no quarrel with.

  He straightened and moved back a pace, still glaring at Daniel. "Well, Brookford," Daniel said, also backing off a little. "Have you finally had enough? Do you quit?"

  The fury returned to Mr. Brookford's face. "I do not quit. I have not yet had enough of this charade to satisfy me."

  Daniel just laughed, but then suddenly charged at Mr. Brookford with all his strength – but Mr. Brookford hit him so hard in the jaw that Daniel crumpled and dropped to the dirt.

  "Now I've had enough," Mr. Brookford said, gasping for breath. "And so have you." White shirt blood-streaked and in tatters, his brown hair falling across his eyes, Mr. Brookford walked off into the darkness, heading away from the house and out towards the horse barns and the cattle fields.

  Daniel was left lying in the yard at the feet of the surrounding men.

  Merope realized that Sally was pressed up alongside her and clutching Merope's arm so tightly that there would no doubt be a bruise left. The girl was sobbing and shaking as she stared down at Daniel but seemed unable to move.

  Finally, Merope pulled Sally's hand from her arm and pushed her towards the scene of the fight. "Go to him," Merope whispered, her voice harsh. "This is what such scheming gets us. Never fear –for I am just as guilty as you are."

  Upon hearing this, Sally pushed herself away and ran to Daniel, who was slowly trying to raise his head as the other men stood over him. Sally threw herself down to her knees in the torn-up grass and dirt and wept over the half-conscious man who lay there, her white silk dress dragged through the mud and the white feather drooping in her hair.

  Merope had no time for them though. She caught up the hems of her own silk dress and hurried after Mr. Brookford, who had walked off into the darkness towards the pastures and the barns.

  He had not gone far. It seemed he had only wanted to get away from the circle of men and the faint lights of the house. Now he was sitting in the grass, alone in the soft moonlight.

  His muscular chest, now a bit sweaty, glowed softly under the moonlight.

  She walked up alongside him, keeping silent. He was still breathing hard and she could feel the tension, the arousal, and the pain that rolled off of him in waves.

  Finally she spoke, "Mr. Brookford," she said quietly. "James . . . "

  He threw the smallest of glances towards her and then went on staring into the darkness, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. Merope very gingerly placed one hand on his shoulder, but he held up one hand as though warding her off.

  Uncertain of what to do, she withdrew her hand and simply stood beside him. His breathing came harder and angrier now than it had been before the fight even started.

  From not far behind them, at the scene of the fight, Merope heard a groan and some swearing as Daniel tried to get to his feet.

  She could see Sally trying to help support him, but Daniel would not permit Sally to touch him. "Bring me a lantern," he commanded, and then spit into the ground. One of the men left the group and ran to the front of the house.

  "What is he going to do with a lantern?" whispered Merope. But again, Mr. Brookford merely glanced at her and refused to say a word.

  The music continued playing from the house. Occasionally, Merope could hear the laughter and clapping of the guests as they continued to enjoy the ball, apparently unaware of the little drama playing out behind the house.

  A few moments later, the man returned bearing two small lighted lanterns. He placed one on the ground and handed the other to Daniel, who picked up his coat from the torn-up grass and began walking towards the lane leading away from Albany House.

  Immediately, Sally panicked and ran after him. She clutched his arm again as though trying to drag him to a stop. "What are you doing? Where are you going?" she cried. "You're hurt! You must stay here and let us care for you!"

  He shook her off. She stumbled and nearly fell, but hastily picked herself up and caught up to him again. "Please wait. Please wait!"

  "I will not. I am walking back to my home,” he said determinedly.

  "But that's over six miles from here!” Sally exclaimed in response.

  "Do not worry. I have a lantern. I have walked farther than this before. I'll be home soon."

  Sally finally managed to drag him to a stop. "Please, oh, please, don't do this," she begged. "I am sorry. I did not think you would care who I danced with."

  Daniel glared at her in silence. Like Mr. Brookford, he was agitated, and his clothes were torn. Merope thought she saw blood dripping from somewhere near his mouth. "I have cared for a long time," he said, glaring down at Sally. "You are the one who does not care."

  He turned and walked away again, and again Sally tried to follow him. "But – but you have looked at others, too!"

  "I have. But only because I thought you did not care if I did."

  This time, as he walked away, he refused to stop no matter what Sally did. "Let me go with you!" She begged. "I can walk all the way, if I am with you!"

  He just snorted. "You will not walk six miles tonight. I will take you back to the front door of the house. You will go back inside and return to the ball."

  "But – "

  "Do not argue. You are staying here. I am going home. I will hear no more about it."

  And he didn't. Daniel caught her hand and Sally fell silent as she hurried along beside him in her now muddy half-boots and dirt-smeared white silk dress. He pulled her after him around the corner, and then they were lost to sight.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Merope closed her eyes, exhaling deeply. The other men who had come out to witness the fight glanced back at Mr. Brookford, who waved them off. After a brief hesitation, they, too, walked around to the front of the house and were gone.

  Mr. Brookford still sat on the ground. Merope stepped around him until she could see his face in the moonlight and in the low lights from the back windows of the house. "You are hurt," she said, truly concerned. "There is blood here, and here – "

  He brushed her hand away. "Yes. I'm covered in blood and dirt and grass and leaves. My clothes are torn and ruined. I'm in no fit state to host a ball at my parents' house. They will be ashamed of what I have done in front of all of our guests."

  Merope raised her chin. "Men sometimes fight. You did not do so in the ballroom. You both took it outside like a gentleman. It has happened once or twice in our inn as well. You cannot tell me that there is a man in there right now who has not got into a fistfight at some point in his life."

  Slowly, painfully, Mr. Brookford got to his feet. "So, you are proud of me, Miss Robbins? I am not proud. I think that Daniel Bird and I each fought over the wrong woman tonight. I am not proud of it at all."

  Merope felt as though she had been struck. "Perhaps you are right," she said quietly, though she could not keep her voice from shaking a little. "Men fight with their fists, but women have other ways of fighting. That is what you saw tonight, out there on the ballroom floor."

  She stepped in front of him again, so that he would have to look at her. "It seems that you have won the fistfight. It remains to be seen whether I or Miss Henson won the real fight that took place here tonight."

  Merope started to walk back towards the house, but this time, Mr. Brookford caught her arm – caught it very hard – and pulled her back to him. His blood was up, and Merope realized that she felt equally emboldened.

  She turned back and stood up to him squarely, looking him directly in the eye. He was illuminated by the light of the full moon – and she realized in that moment that she had lost, she had lost her heart to him and would do almost anything to keep from having to tear herself away from him now. She was filled with sadness, for surely she had also lost his regard with her game playing that evening.

  "Your face is covered in blood. Why don't y
ou allow me to help you clean it off? It is the least that I can do, since you got those cuts by fighting for me – the wrong woman."

  It was his turn to glare at her. She thought he would turn her loose and stalk away – but instead, he kept her pulled close to his side and started walking, picking up a single small lantern as he moved past it.

  Very quietly, Mr. Brookford led Merope down the lane, away from the house and towards the mill, being careful to keep both of them in the darkness of the shadows.

  The gleam of the moonlight on the surface of the river, and the sound of the waterwheel, turning and turning, guided Mr. Brookford and Merope down the lane to the millhouse. Once they reached it, he pushed open the heavy door, walked across the wooden floorboards, and placed the small lantern on a stone ledge on the far side of the room. Sitting over there, its little light would be difficult to see from the house. But it was enough for the two of them.