Unveiling Love

by Vanessa Riley

  He couldn't think about that, just Amora and Charleton. Blast it. Cynthia's gossip had to be true. Charleton must be the man who seduced Amora. But if that was so, why wasn't she terrified of him now? Would the end of their relationship cause nightmares? None of this made sense. Tonight, he'd get answers.

  Arriving at Mayfair, James opened the carriage door. "A gentle, steady hand catches more fish than one raging."

  Barrington stared into his dark eyes. "Not this time."

  The sky was light. The sun would be out soon. It was time for the truth to rise as well. He pounded into the townhome and charged the steps. Turning the knob of her chamber, he found it locked.

  He moved his palm above the threshold and found the housekeeper's screw resting on the upper trim. Unlocking it, he tossed the door open. The room felt cold. No fire in her mantle and the window lay open, allowing a breeze. He stepped inside and stopped. His mouth dropped open.

  Amora wasn't at her vanity or in bed. She lay asleep on the floor, all balled up as if that would hide her. Her fingers curled around a heavy Dresden figurine of a rhinoceros.

  His heart crushed a little more. Did she think he'd hit her? Didn't she know him?

  He'd never been violent with her. He'd prosecuted men for harming women. A little unsteady, he used all of his energy to scoop her up and carried her to the bed. She opened one eye, then wrapped her arms about his neck. "You've come to save me."

  Sucking in a breath, he set her onto the mattress. Hip pulsing with pain, he dropped beside her. "I've come for answers. Why did you come to the Dowager's? You were to stay home."

  Her lips curled to a frown as her eyes darted left and right. "I thought I could show you I could be supportive. I don't want to be fragile."

  Her fingers scalloped the bruises on his cheek. The delicate touch tortured and tingled. "But only rumors will fly now."

  He couldn't think of that. He closed his eyes. "Did you run off with Charleton while I was at war?"

  "No."

  "Admit you ran off with someone." He tugged at his wilted cravat and tried to be calm. He failed miserably.

  "I did not."

  "Amora, you went willingly. It was a seduction, but you made up the story so your mother wouldn't be judgmental."

  "No, but she didn't believe me either. Not at first." She answered in clear, strong tones. "No one did."

  He couldn't accept her answer, not after witnessing Charleton about to kiss her. "Just say the words. I need to hear the truth."

  She pulled away and swept a blanket onto her legs. "Is that the excuse you need to justify taking a mistress?"

  "Nonsense. You're trying to distract from my line of questioning." He was the one deceived, not her. Bounding up, he scooped up a chair and pulled it near. He sank into it adjusting his weight, taking pressure off his hip. Not ready to ease up on the witness, he lowered his voice and took a new tact. "Tell me what made Mrs. Tomàs believe your story?"

  She opened her mouth then closed it. "Does it matter? You've already convicted me. Please leave."

  "My wife, the woman whom I believed loved me and waited faithfully for my return, just gave up. An innocent person fights, yells out."

  "A tired person waits for things to end." Her tone sounded flat, not the vigor of the woman who'd stomped away from Charleton and him.

  "Then we need to go ask Mrs. Tomàs." He stood and hobbled to the door. "Get dressed. We go to Clanville within the hour."

  He'd know everything by the day's end. Then he'd figure out how to fix what remained of his marriage.

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  Sneak Peak: Episode II

  Episode II of Unveiling Love

  Length: 8 Chapters (28,000 words)

  Summary: The Ungodly Truth

  Barrington Norton has always despised lies and has formed his life upon a foundation of truth. Yet, discovering the truth of Amora's past sends him to the breaking point. How can he ever make amends for not believing her? Will she ever love him as she once did?

  Amora Norton is tired, tired of fighting for her marriage and her sanity. Now that she understands how fleeting Barrington's love is, she wants none of it. It may be better off being alone than living with pity. Having lost all, can she find herself?

  Nonetheless, a serial abductor is at large, awakening to existence of the one that got away. Only a united couple can put an end to his reign of terror.

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  Here's your sneak peak at the next episode.

  Chapter One: London, March 1, 1819

  Rain splashed against the glass of the carriage as it rumbled down the road. Amora sat on her hands across from Barrington. Barely a word exchanged between them since their harrowing flight from London at dawn.

  He'd caught her asleep on the floor, but his anger at the fight at his patroness's home must've made him forget. Good. He'd have a lot more to understand once they arrived at Tomàs Manor.

  In another hour or so, Mother would give him answers he'd never expect. Sleeping on the floor wouldn't seem so bad, but would Barrington understand? Could a man ever fully understand being made a victim, knowing other victims? Could he ever accept be so low and helpless? Never. Not Barrington.

  She glanced at him again. His bruised countenance bobbled as his head zigged and zagged along the seatback. His snow-white cravat fluttered with each short snore.

  He hadn't shaved. Not how he liked to start his day with light stubble edging his chin. At least he'd changed his clothes from his soiled evening pantaloons and coat.

  Oh, that horrid party. His reputation must be in tatters. What would be the repercussions for a mulatto, a black, striking a member of the ton?

  A sigh left her like a billow used to stoke flames, only she had none. Her fire was gone. He didn't believe her. The man she loved thought her wanton, just like mother.

  And how could she forgive him constantly being with Cynthia? How strong of man could he be with a tart constantly trying to give him pie? Even a self-righteous man could get hungry.

  She pushed at her brow, trying to remember what happiness was. It wasn't in the carriage, or London. Certainly not with Mother. Yet, did happiness exist with Barrington, being with him, being married to him? She count the days on one pinky, the moments she didn't fret over his opinions, his wants, his desires.

  With her middles stewing, she balled her fists, hiding the unnumbered fingers. When he discovered how wrong he was to believe Cynthia's lies, could Amora ever fully trust that he'd never have another moment in which doubts about her honor would win?

  With a shake of her head, she turned to the window and the endless streams of water. Surely, that must be a bad omen. Yes, his god was still angry with her. Maybe mother's Isis, too.

  "Gerald, no!" Barrington bolted up. His grey eyes were vacant, then beset with heavy blinks. He rubbed his face and peered out the window. "We are getting close. Pity to visit Mrs. Tomàs on such a wet day."

  "Weeks away from yuletide, she'll probably be too busy with things. She'll not care, and she's used to me showing up looking like a drowned rat. If she tries to get us to stay, don't agree."

  His lips thinned as he tugged at his lapel. "Rat? What does that mean and explain last night, too? Why did you come to the ball? And why were you alone with, Charleton?"

  "That's a lot of questions. A famed Barrington Norton interrogation." She folded her arms about her cape. "Why don't you explain yourself? Why did you not want me to go, and why were you embracing Cynthia Miller? No, I forgot. The accused can't ask questions."

  He leaned back as his frown lifted in a smirk. "Clever. Madam judge can ask questions of a barrister. I have nothing to hide. I do apologize for causing a scene. Simply lost my head when I saw you with a rake."

  "No other explanations?" She tilted her head forward. Her heavy heart made h
er wobble a bit. "You touched a peer, an innocent one. The ramifications--"

  "I'll deal with that. My short absence might be warranted, but I doubt Charleton will do anything of it, for it will expose him too and you. He's so fond of you."

  She held inside her irritation at his lack of belief in her. "Well, Cynthia Miller will miss you. And don't deny it. I saw you two."

  "What?" He rubbed his jaw. "So that's how Charleton tricked you, with jealousy. She's very emotional right now. Caught in some trouble, but my investigator will solve that."

  Amora tried hard not to roll her eyes but the hope that she'd see something other than ridicule or stupidity on her insides was too great. "Always helping others. That jade won't bother Beakes. She finds reasons to be around you. Can't you see she's in love with you? That she'll use anything to twist you up, to compromise you?"

  "Preposterous. She's Gerald Miller's little sister. I need to protect her. Miller saved my life. I owe it to him."

  Barrington leaned forward. His smirk increased. "So out of jealousy, you went alone with a rake to the garden. Convenient of him being able to give you a tour."

  "I thought… " She turned her head and tried to search for the right words to convince him, but the old spire of the priory came into view. A chill raced through her down to the boning of her corset. Images of it, the last thing she'd painted before her abduction plagued her mind. That horrible day - grabbed out of her slippers, beating on masculine arms that had to have been forged in iron - stuck in her head. One. Two. Hard to breathe.

  Something caught her hand.

  She jerked away, but only witnessed Barrington's concerned pout. He'd joined her on her seat. "We could go straight to Cornwall. A couple of notes at the next post off to Hessing, and we could start anew."

  He put an arm about her back, toyed with a raven curl poking from her bonnet. "You just have a price to pay." Pulling closer to her ear, his whispered breaths kissed her lobe. "Just the truth, Amora."

  How dare he?

  How could he try to seduce her into a lie, because he couldn't accept the truth? She stiffened, tried to push away, but he crowded her. How ironic. She usually crowded him.

  "Please, Amora."

  His sweet strong voice made her want to curl up in his lap and retreat into the safety of his arms like last night. But, could she pay the price? She didn't have any more lies to give, just ugly truths.

  She said no with a shake of her head and shoved on his chest. "Go back to your seat, Barr."

  His grey eyes smoldered. He lifted her palm and put his lips to them. "Don't you want to start anew? Pay the piper. Own your lies, all of them."

  Pulse rising, pounding in despair, she wrenched away. Hurt at his words and her terrible weakness for him. "Stop it. I'm not in the mood to be bedded and then dismissed again."

  Barrington blinked and sat back. "Amora, I am ready to hear your side. I'll forgive anything. I just need the truth."

  "Go to your seat. Take your suspicions with you."

  Hands in the air, he lunged to his side of the carriage. "I'm trying to make this easier for you. There's vanity in falsehoods. It's best to own our mistakes."

  "My own flesh and blood, the woman who birthed me didn't believe me. Why should the man I wed?"

  She looked to her lap and folded her hands beneath the creamy wool of her stole. Only a stranger, Vicar Wilson, and perhaps, Mr. Charleton understood. She slumped against the window and counted tufts of white silk lining the carriage walls. "Mother will tell you what you want to know."

  Until this moment, she didn't realize how similar her Mama and Barrington were. No wonder neither loved her enough.

  Gunshots rang out.

  Barrington's gaze shot to the carriage window. The rain had stopped but low clouds still filled the sky. Traveling on the back roads held a certain amount of danger, but he always rode prepared.

  He ran a finger along the knob fastening the compartment under the seat. James kept a gun oiled inside and stocked with plenty of bullet packets. He'd protect his wife from bandits. No one would ever have a chance to hurt her again. No rake or bandit.

  Another gun belched. The sound was a high pitch squeal. That was a small weapon, one not built for war or highwaymen. He eased back onto his seat.

  Amora rubbed her temples. "Mother must be practicing her pistols. She hasn't done that since Papa…in a long time."

  As the carriage came to a stop, he spied Mrs. Tomàs traipsing from the orchards toward the large house. Her raven hair bounced with each step. The simple straw bonnet did a poor job of keeping her tresses orderly.

  Coming from the direction of the big stable house, the unusual woman, with skin almost as dark as his, carried a flintlock and dangled it by her side. So unlike the fastidious lady of his memories, the one who belittled his stature, his race, his personal small fortune absent his grandfather's wealth, even his father's waywardness on their last meeting. For Amora, Henutsen Tomàs had wanted a man of noble blood like the Charletons or truthfully any white gentleman of means.

  The heat in his lungs started to burn his nostrils. He extended his arm to Amora. "Last chance."

  Chin high, she pushed past him and plodded up the steps to the wide portico. "Let's be done with this."

  His feet became weighty lead. He held onto the door of the carriage. His plan to learn the truth no longer seemed like a good one. How much worse would he feel when Mrs. Tomàs confirmed his suspicions?

  Or even worse.

  What if she didn't and Amora was truly abducted, how would he make up for his lack of trust?

  Thunder clapped. He tensed adding pressure to the bullet wound in his hip. A just reward for acting like a jealous fool and riding hours in a carriage. Shaking out his leg, he eased to the ground. "James, refresh the horses in the stables. This could take awhile."

  His man nodded and moved the carriage forward. Barrington hurried and caught up to his wife.

  "Mr. Norton, Amora? What are you doing here?" His mother-in-law set her gun down and wiped her hands on the sides of her dark colored walking dress. "I would have prepared something had I known."

  Barrington step forward and bowed his head. "We've come to ask you questions."

  "He came to ask questions." Amora moved behind him almost as if she hid.

  What could she be afraid of? Mrs. Tomàs wasn't much taller than she. They shared similar body weights, nothing to fear.

  "Mr. Norton, looks like you caught the bad end of a fight. But you look well, dear." The older woman swiped at her face and held her arms open, beckoning with nods for Amora to come.

  Her daughter bristled and stepped away. She slunk to the corner and clung to one of the whitewashed posts supporting the covered roof. "Tell Barrington what happened."

  Her voice sounded short, hot like fire. Then it died away in the increasing wind. She played with the buttons on her cream redingote. Three people stood on the portico. How could it be possible for her to seem so alone?

  Mrs. Tomàs retrieved her shawl from a chair sitting against the wall. I've missed you, sweetheart. Let me get the cook to make you something to eat."

  Undoing the strings of her egret feather bonnet, Amora kept her focus toward the thick grove of trees, the start of the Tomàs Orchards. "Get the papers. It's time to show him."

  Tears dribbled down his mother-in-law's stoic face as she moved near her daughter and stroked her back. "Are you sure?"

  "Yes. Barrington, follow her." The tone smoldered again, short, punctuated, determined. "Ask your questions. Find your truth."

  He adjusted his spectacles. Part of him wanted to embrace his wife and tell her he'd changed his mind, but that wouldn't stop his questions. No, only the truth would.

  He took note of her stiff posture, her expressionless gaze toward the trees. She didn't seem like one fearing exposure, but she didn't cry out her innocence either.

  The Old Bailey would convict her.

  Hadn't he?

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  Extras

  Author's Note

  Dear Friend,

  I enjoyed writing Unveiled Love because diverse Regency London needs its story told, and I am a sucker for a wonderful husband and wife romance. They need love after the vows, too.

  These stories will showcase a world of intrigue and romance, a setting everyone can hopefully find a character to identify with in the battle of love, which renews and gives life.

  Stay in touch. Sign up at www.vanessariley.com for my newsletter. You'll be the first to know about upcoming releases, and maybe even win a sneak peek.

  Thank so much for giving this book a read.

  Vanessa Riley

  Many of my readers are new to Regencies, so I always add notes and a glossary to make items readily available. If you know of a term that should be added to enhance my readers' knowledge, send them to me at: vanessa@christianregency.com. I will acknowledge you in my next book.

  Here are my notes:

  Mulatto Barristers

  I couldn't find definitive proof of one, but that does not mean it was impossible. Connections and success bent rules. Such was the case for William Garrow (1760-1840). He was not born a gentleman and didn't go to the best schools. Yet, his success in the courts rewrote how trials would be performed. He introduced the premise, "presumed innocent until proven guilty," and rose to become Solicitor General for England and Wales.

  Free blacks in 1800's English Society

  By Regency times, historians, Kirstin Olsen and Gretchen Holbrook Gerzina, estimate that Black London (the black neighborhood of London) had over 10,000 residents. While England led the world in granting rights to the enslaved and ending legal slavery thirty years before the American Civil War, it still had many citizens who were against change. Here is another image from an anti-abolitionist.