by Lucy Ashford
I love you, Ellie. She heard those words over and over in her mind. She began to feel hope—and that was what terrified her most of all.
Luke was lifting her face with his hand under her chin, so her eyes would meet his. ‘Tears?’ He frowned. ‘Ellie, all the time I’ve spent with you, yet so rarely have I seen tears.’
She drew a deep breath and she told him. She told him what Lord Franklin had said that last day in the library.
The set of his jaw was grim, just for a moment, then he said softly, lethally, ‘We’ll see about that. But I’m not moving from here until you’ve said yes to me.’
‘But, Luke—’
He stopped her the only way he knew—he kissed her.
Luke had never before felt entitled to happiness. For a long time now, his life had been ruled by the belief that he should have somehow been able to save his brother and that he’d let down the tenants on his estate. Since Caroline, he’d never contemplated marriage.
But now he kissed Ellie until he forgot about the problems that still faced him; until he forgot about Lord Franklin’s treachery and all the bitterness of his own past. He kissed her until there was no one else but her in his world—nothing else except her taste, her scent, the way her body fitted so perfectly in his arms. He held her face between his palms and kissed her again and again. She kissed him back, and only when both of them were breathless did he pull away. ‘Say yes, Ellie. Say that you’ll marry me.’
‘Yes,’ she breathed. ‘Oh, yes. But what about—?’
‘Lord Franklin?’ He smiled—a glad, defiant smile of hope and of confidence in whatever lay ahead. ‘We’ll see about that as soon as we get back to England. When the time is right, I have a few things to say to his lordship.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
London
Just for a moment, Ellie’s heart tightened with fear as the hired carriage progressed slowly along the ever-busier streets of the crowded city. Self-consciously she smoothed out her satin pelisse and the silk skirts of her evening gown. Can I do this? What if I let him down?
But Luke was beside her. Luke took her hand and held it, his grasp warm and strong. ‘This,’ he said to her softly, ‘will truly be an evening to remember.’
She glanced up at him. ‘But, Luke,’ she said innocently, ‘every night with you is a night to remember.’ He leaned to kiss her, his lips so tender yet so strong. Reluctantly she pulled away a little. ‘But do you think it’s wise to attend this ball?’
‘I think,’ he said, his eyes suddenly grave, ‘that it’s essential.’
Ellie nodded and gazed out of the window at the other carriages, the crowds on the pavements. Then she turned back to him, and asked the question that women everywhere asked, ‘Do I look all right?’
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. ‘You look exquisite.’
She sighed with happiness and nestled against him as the carriage headed on towards Clarges Street—and Lord Franklin’s house.
* * *
It was two weeks now since they’d returned to England with Anthony, on board Jacques’s ship. They’d taken Anthony to Higham House, of course, to be reunited with his wife and his little son.
Ellie stayed there, too, with Luke. ‘I want us to be married, Ellie,’ he’d told her again that night as they walked along the beach and gazed out to sea, watching Jacques’s ship disappear over the horizon. ‘As soon as possible.’
‘But Lord Franklin. He threatened to ruin you—’
‘Lord Franklin is in London. He won’t even know for a while that you’re here with me. He’ll have other matters on his mind. And when he does find out—’ Luke’s face was suddenly grim ‘—believe me, I have ways to deal with his threats.’
‘You mean the letter? But he has such powerful friends, Luke!’
‘I have something else. You’ll see.’ He was smiling again. ‘Soon, we’ll pay him a visit in London, you and I. But in the meantime, I have you all to myself. And I’m going to make the most of it.’
Arm in arm, as darkness fell, they walked back to the house and he led her up to his bedroom. He gathered her in his arms and guided her to the bed in the corner. And his mouth possessed hers once again—tasting, teasing, caressing.
Like the night in her room at Bircham Hall. Only now, she knew what lay in store. Now her body knew what pleasure awaited her, and the craving for him made the kiss more intense and made the low pulse down there beat that much harder. Somehow he’d parted her bodice so his hands could cup her breasts, and then his mouth was sucking the tip of each one in turn.
She clung to him, feeling as if her body were not her own, but his. As if she’d known, since the first moment she’d seen him on the road to Bircham, that there could never be anyone but Luke. She was racked by the depth of her own longing.
‘Ellie...’ he breathed as he let his gaze devour her face and body. His blue eyes burned with heat and his voice was raw. He began to kiss her again, only more deeply this time, with his tongue exploring the inner silk of her mouth, and she felt his hand stroking the softness of her inner thighs, slipping his finger against her most intimate place.
She was nearly beyond control. Nearly. The desire for him was like molten silver in her blood, turning her into heat and fire, burning for him. Her legs had fallen apart and he was easing himself between them, easing himself into her. She felt the blunt, velvety head of him pressing against her until, giving a little cry, she opened to him and he was sliding into her, filling her, hard and sure and sweet.
Almost desperately, her hands were under his shirt, caressing the corded muscles of his shoulders and back, gripping his lean hips; while he covered her throat and her breasts with kisses, drawing a nipple in deep. An all-engulfing heat was pulling tighter and tighter at her core and she lifted herself to meet him, crying out his name as her world burst into cascades of light.
And she slept all night in his arms.
* * *
They spent ten days and nights at Higham House. For Ellie it was a time of pure happiness—she dismissed, for now, her fears about the future and she pushed from her mind the sadnesses of her past. Luke was busy spending time on the estate and talking—being—with his brother.
Anthony was still recovering from his illness, but often Ellie would see the brothers walking slowly down to the beach, or along the familiar cliff path. Monique and Ellie were content to leave the two of them together, knowing they were sharing memories of their youth and possibly sharing their experiences of war and hardship that they might never recount to the women they loved.
Monique was eager to learn English, and Ellie sat out in the courtyard with her when the sun shone, talking with her while Harry played with a toy horse that Anthony had made for him. Ellie loved watching father and son together. Some day, she thought. Some day Luke and I might be so blessed.
* * *
That was an idyllic time, but she knew it had to come to an end. And when Luke told her they must go to London, she was ready. ‘Where will we stay?’ she asked.
‘I have a house,’ he told her.
She turned to him in surprise. They’d been out riding together—Luke wanted to see how the wheat fields on Ned Rawling’s farm were faring—but now they’d returned and Luke was holding Ellie’s horse as she dismounted. ‘A house?’ she repeated.
‘Nothing grand,’ he said quickly. ‘It’s in a street off Cheapside. It was rented out to a London merchant, but he moved out a while ago. I have a reliable couple who look after it for me—and now it will be a useful base while I continue with my plans.’
‘It sounds,’ she said, ‘as if you mean business.’
‘I do.’ His expression was grave. ‘It’s time for me to confront Lord Franklin. Ellie—will you come with me?’
She felt something cold trickle down her spin
e, but she reached for him and pressed her cheek against his chest, and felt his heart steadily beating as he wrapped his arms around her. And the coldness—the fear—had gone.
‘You don’t have to ask,’ she said softly. ‘You know that, don’t you? I’ll go with you anywhere. Anywhere.’
* * *
Ellie had found Lord Franklin’s Mayfair mansion to be cold and unwelcoming and chillingly large, with servants who were as remote as the statues that stood all around, in every niche and corner. But Luke’s house in Wood Street was smaller and cosier. It was run by a middle-aged couple who reminded her of Tom Bartlett and his wife, and they couldn’t have been more welcoming to her.
They called her Mrs Danbury, or Ma’am, and indeed, Luke had already slipped a silver band on her wedding finger. ‘Soon,’ he promised her, kissing her forehead. ‘Soon I’m going to make you my wife, Ellie.’
‘Only when you’ve dealt with Lord Franklin,’ she reminded him. ‘Our wedding can wait till then.’
‘Then I trust,’ he said gravely, ‘that we haven’t long to wait.’
That was when he told her that Lord Franklin was, the next night, holding a party for all his important friends. ‘He’s recently brought over some art works he acquired in Paris,’ he explained, ‘while Napoleon was in exile. He’s got them all out on display and he’s eager to show them to his guests. You and I are going, too.’
She was aghast. ‘Luke. He won’t let you in! And as for me... You’ve not forgotten, have you, how he told me that he’d ruin you, if he found that I was seeing you again?’
He drew her close and kissed the tip of her nose. ‘I thought you trusted me, Ellie.’
‘I do. Oh, I do. But...’
‘Tomorrow night,’ he told her. ‘The party is tomorrow night. And I want you to look stunning, do you understand? Tomorrow morning, you’re going to see a modiste. The gown will have to be ready-made, but no matter—you’ll still be the most beautiful woman there.’
* * *
Now it was eight o’clock on the night of the party, and the hired carriage was turning down Piccadilly to take them to Clarges Street and Lord Franklin’s house.
Ellie had wondered how she would feel to see again the house where she had been so alone and so afraid for her future. But with Luke at her side, everything was transformed. As the carriage pulled up, she leaned across to him and whispered, ‘You look wonderful, too.’
And he did. He was dressed in a simple but well-tailored black tailcoat and light-coloured breeches that suited his physique perfectly. His shirt and neckcloth had been checked over by Ellie, who had placed a plain silver pin that he told her had been left to him by his grandfather in the snowy folds of the cravat.
‘Luke, you’re almost a dandy,’ she teased him. He’d taught her the word, when she’d exclaimed over the fancily dressed gentlemen she’d noticed on the streets of London.
‘I sincerely hope not,’ he said, screwing up his face in distaste.
‘Nevertheless.’ She reached up to caress his cheek. ‘You’re so handsome that all the ladies will be after you.’
He was easing on his black leather glove over his right hand, but he stopped and said, ‘Too bad. Because I don’t want any of them except you.’
* * *
And now, they were climbing out of the carriage and Luke was leading her up the wide steps to Lord Franklin’s imposing front door. On either side flambeaux burned, and liveried footmen stood to attention, waiting to greet the guests.
‘Sir.’ A footman bowed his head to Luke. ‘May I see your invitation, sir?’
‘No need,’ Luke replied crisply. ‘I assure you, his lordship is expecting me.’ More guests were arriving all the time; the steps were crowded and Luke took advantage of the crush to brush the footman aside and usher Ellie in. He handed her pelisse to another footman in the hallway, and the staff and guests who were already gathered in there, beneath the great candelabra, turned and stared.
Because Ellie looked exquisite. She wore a flowing, low-necked gown of green silk, with no adornment except green ribbons in her piled-up hair and a silver chain around her neck. The modiste had picked the gown out for her and made several minimal alterations, but otherwise it fitted her slender figure perfectly. The other women, most of them considerably older than Ellie, were dressed in stiff, formal gowns of satin and lace. They wore fabulous jewels and feathered headdresses—but all the men’s eyes were on Ellie.
Luke led her in amongst them all. ‘Perfect,’ he said to her gently under his breath. ‘You look absolutely perfect.’
‘Danbury.’ The word came out like an explosion of sound. Lord Franklin was there, in front of them, and his face was as black as thunder. ‘Danbury,’ Lord Franklin repeated. ‘How did you get in here? Who let you in? And... Elise?’
He gestured abruptly to the nearest footman. ‘Show this man the door. Immediately. Elise, you will stay. I need to speak with you—’
‘No.’ Luke stepped forward. ‘I need to speak with you, Lord Franklin.’ A crowd had gathered round, silent, awestruck. ‘You will be interested to hear, my lord,’ Luke went on—his voice was calm and clear—‘that my brother, Anthony, has recently returned from France.’
Lord Franklin took a step backwards.
‘You,’ Luke went on, ‘and some of your colleagues—who are here tonight, I believe—will be glad to hear of his safe return, I’m quite sure. Especially in view of the extraordinary service he and his friends performed for our country—a service that I’m certain you will agree has not, up till now, been fully recognised by those in power—’
‘Stop,’ said Lord Franklin. His face was tight with anger as he turned to his gathered guests. ‘If you will excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, I need a moment in private with this—person.’ He swung back to face Luke. ‘You’ll come to my study, Danbury?’
‘I will,’ said Luke. ‘But first...’ He turned to Ellie. ‘Will you wait here for me? Will you be all right?’
‘Of course.’ And she wanted to add, You know that I’ll wait forever, for you.
* * *
For almost a quarter of an hour, Luke was closeted with Lord Franklin in his study. The other guests pretended everything was as normal; there were musicians, there was dancing, people played cards, couples flirted; but Ellie could tell they were looking round all the time, avid for gossip. Avid to know what was happening.
Some of the women came over to talk to her. ‘You are Lord Franklin’s relative, are you not?’ they asked curiously. ‘But he told us you had returned to France!’
She pretended not to understand their English. She sat there as the music and the chatter filled the air, and she thought of nothing but Luke.
And when he came back into the main room, at Lord Franklin’s side, she was on her feet, fighting the urge to run to him and put her arms around him.
He appeared calm and composed, but Lord Franklin looked tense with suppressed rage. The whole room fell silent—even the musicians stopped playing.
Lord Franklin stepped forward. ‘Ladies and gentlemen. You came here tonight to see my latest paintings from France. You have been very patient. Will you follow me upstairs to my gallery, so I may show them to you?’
They clustered around him and followed him up the sweeping staircase. All except for Ellie. Luke came over to her, took her hand and pressed it to his lips.
Her heart leapt when she saw the fierce joy in his eyes. ‘It’s over,’ he said. ‘It’s done. Let’s go, my love.’
* * *
Outside Luke hired a hackney cab to take them back to his house, and on the way he explained everything to her.
‘I had the letter, of course,’ he said. ‘The letter from his library, which told us of his part in the betrayal of Anthony and Les Braves. “I want medals to be issued to all those men, Lord Frank
lin,” I told him. “Those who died and those who lived. They were treated abominably by the British government.”
‘Lord Franklin was furious, and tried to deny it. “I warned the girl,” he told me. “I can still have you and your estates ruined, Danbury.” And it’s true that perhaps he could—he and his friends are very powerful. But I told him that there was something else.’
‘What, Luke?’ She was nestling against him as the hackney rattled along Pall Mall. She was daring to feel hope. Hope for Luke, and hope for their future together.
‘A few months ago,’ Luke went on, ‘I heard some rumours about Lord Franklin—rumours connected to his passion for art. I asked Jacques to make enquiries for me in France. And he found out what I suspected. During the last years of the war, Lord Franklin sent English gold—illegally—to Paris to purchase from undercover dealers some works of art that he desperately coveted. What he did would scandalise London if it were known. Imagine—liaising with the enemy in wartime! What would his government colleagues think?
‘Tonight,’ he went on, ‘Lord Franklin was horrified to realise that I knew this. I said I would keep quiet about it—if he arranged for the heroism of Les Braves to be publicly acknowledged. But I also reminded him that if he ever, at any time in the future, decided to try to get some sort of revenge on Anthony or me—or you, Ellie—then I would reveal his treachery in full. It’s done, my darling. It’s over.’ He gathered her in his strong arms. ‘I love you. I need you. And the future is all ours.’
He kissed her, long and deep, until the cab driver called out, ‘Wood Street! You’re home, sir!’
But of course, thought Ellie. Home was anywhere that Luke was.
Epilogue
Kent
It was the perfect place for a wedding. The church overlooking the sea was tiny, but there was enough room for all the people who mattered—Anthony and Monique and Harry, Jacques and his sailors, the Bartletts and the Watterson brothers. Luke’s farming tenants had crowded in, too—they were brown from working in the summer sun, because it was early July, and the crops were ripening steadily in the fields, while the sheep grew fat on the summer grass.
