by Cheryl Holt
Her head pounded, her body ached. She was lying on a bed, and furtively, she moved her foot, relieved to note that it wasn’t shackled. If she was in a bad situation, she’d be able to make a run for it.
As she peeked to the side, she braced for any catastrophe, and the sight that greeted her was so bizarre she blinked and blinked to clear her vision.
“Lord Redvers?”
“Oh, Mary, I was beginning to think you’d never awaken.” He sagged into his chair. “She must have used a potent drug to knock you out for so long.”
She was certain she was dreaming, but as he rose and came over to her, as he eased a hip down on the mattress, his presence seemed very real.
He was disheveled, in his shirtsleeves, with his shirt partially unbuttoned. He hadn’t shaved or combed his hair, and he appeared rugged and masculine and nothing like the elegant gentleman he’d been while visiting Barnes Manor.
“What time is it?” Mary asked.
“Almost dawn.”
“Lord Redvers?” she said again, incredulous.
“Don’t call me Redvers, and don’t look so surprised.”
“But I am ... surprised.”
She glanced down to find that she was still dressed, even though it was in the skimpy negligee and robe that had been placed on her by Mrs. Monroe. Thankfully, she wasn’t naked.
A hideous notion occurred to her: Mrs. Monroe had claimed that men were coming to bid on her, to buy her.
Had Redvers participated in the auction? Could he be that callous? That cruel?
Suddenly afraid, she scooted to the opposite side of the bed, until she was pressed up against the wall and could go no farther.
“What do you want from me?” she snapped.
On viewing her reaction, he frowned. “I found you at Monroe’s establishment, and I took you away from there. You’re safe now.”
“How much did you pay for me?”
“Pay for you? What do you mean?”
“There was to be an auction, and since you’re here, I assume you were the highest bidder.”
He was aghast, which made her feel a tiny bit better. “She was holding an ... an ... auction? To sell you?”
“Yes.”
“Someone mentioned a wager”—he let out a heavy breath—“but I was a tad overwrought. I wasn’t aware of any auction.”
“Then how did you know where I was?”
“As I was leaving Barnes Manor, I talked to your friend, that peddler, Mr. Dubois. He’d seen you get into my carriage with Mrs. Bainbridge, and I realized at once that you were in danger.”
“Mrs. Bainbridge told me it was a boardinghouse. She said I could rent a room there, but they put something in my tea, and I—”
“Hush,” he soothed. “I’m sorry. I’m very distressed about this, and at the moment, I can’t bear to hear the details. Tomorrow, though, when I’m more myself, I’ll have you tell me everything.”
His guard was down, and he seemed very troubled, very conflicted.
“All right,” Mary agreed. “I’m happy to discuss it later. It was awful, and I was very afraid.”
“Don’t worry: Everyone who hurt you will pay and pay dearly.”
There was a grim finality to the comment that unnerved her. He sounded very aggrieved on her behalf, as if he might rashly avenge her, but she didn’t want that.
With how her luck was running, if he tried to inflict punishment on Mrs. Bainbridge or Mrs. Monroe, he would be the one who was injured.
“You don’t need to extract any revenge for me. I’m just glad to be out of there.” She sat up, the blankets clutched to her chest, and she peered around, seeing a bedroom that was sparsely furnished, but clean and cozy. “Where am I?”
“We’re in Paxton Adair’s home.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I would have taken you to mine, but I don’t have one.”
She was very confused. It had to be his wedding night. Why was he racing around London, rescuing her from insane people?
“Where is Felicity?”
“I have no idea.”
“You didn’t marry her?”
“No. I couldn’t.”
It was a strange answer, and she watched, perplexed, as he stood and walked to the window to stare out at the starry sky. He leaned against the sill, appearing to have the weight of the world on his shoulders. She was amazed by his visible woe.
In the short while they’d been acquainted, he’d flitted through life with no qualms or cares. Nothing mattered to him, so nothing concerned him. What had happened to have him acting so out of character?
She wished it had been her predicament that rattled loose a burst of conscience, but she knew better.
He’d been very blunt: She was insignificant to him. Money was the only thing he valued, the only thing worth having.
“Why didn’t you?” Curiosity was eating her alive.
“Why didn’t I what?”
“Marry her.”
For the longest time, he was silent, then he murmured, “Because I want to marry you.”
“You... want to marry me?”
“Yes.”
“No ... no ... that can’t be right.”
She’d been down this road with him before, when she’d begged him to abandon his quest for an heiress, but he never would, and she refused to be tricked by him ever again.
“It’s true,” he insisted. “I want to marry you.”
“So what? The last time we spoke in an affectionate way, you said very much the same, but you’ve proved—most brutally—that I can’t trust you. It’s cruel of you to tease me.”
“I’m not teasing.”
“Well, I don’t believe you, so can we move on to other topics? Such as, what am I to do now?”
He looked lost and bewildered, and she had to glance away.
He was such an attractive man, and she had such potent feelings for him. She hated to see him unhappy or upset. It ignited her feminine instincts, making her eager to comfort and console.
“Do you think,” he queried, “that you’ll ever find it in your heart to forgive me?”
“For which offense?”
He snorted, then went back to star-gazing.
It was clear that he had something important on his mind, but he couldn’t spit it out. When it began to seem as if he’d stand there forever, she shifted to the edge of the bed, her feet on the floor, a quilt tugged over her shoulders and legs.
She was nauseous, and she needed to get some food in her stomach then make plans. Mr. Adair was gracious to have let Redvers bring her to his home, but how long would he allow her to stay? If he asked her to leave, where would she go?
If she’d had her clothes on, she’d have felt more competent to deal with Redvers, and she wondered if they’d been located but she didn’t want to inquire. She didn’t remember much of what had transpired at the brothel, and without a doubt, some of the events were best left forgotten.
“I didn’t know,” he said, “that Victoria had kicked you out. I thought you were sent to live with her cousin.”
“She doesn’t have a cousin.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does. It matters very much.”
He grabbed a chair and placed it directly in front of her, so close that their feet tangled together.
She didn’t like having him so near. Their prior parting had been too recent, and there had been no opportunity to grieve his loss, to mend her broken heart. On being with him again, elation swept through her, which was very dangerous.
She’d never had the willpower to resist him, and her fondness, which had had no chance to diminish, could goad her to innumerable follies.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “and I’m not very good at apologizing, so I hope you won’t make me grovel.”
She chuckled miserably. “I won’t.”
“I was an idiot.”
“Yes, you were.”
“You repeatedly advise
d me I was mistaken about Felicity, that I shouldn’t be so driven about her money, but I ignored you.”
“You were absolutely deaf on the subject.”
He glowered. “You don’t have to agree with quite so much enthusiasm.”
“What are you actually saying? Please skip the nonsense about marrying me, because I know you’re not serious.”
He clasped her hand, and while she should have scolded him and pulled away, she didn’t. The past few days had been so horrid, and she received an enormous amount of solace from the simple, human contact.
“Promise you’ll hear me out.”
“I’m listening.”
“I love you.”
“Don’t lie to me!” she fumed. She yanked away and fought to roll off the bed, but with their legs entwined, she couldn’t escape. He pinned her down, palms on her thighs.
“I was standing in the parlor at Barnes Manor,” he continued, “and the vicar was reading the vows. He came to the spot where I had to consent to have Felicity as my wife, but I couldn’t do it. I made him endure the longest ceremonial pause in history as I tried to figure out why I couldn’t reply.”
“What did you discover?”
“I love you so much that I’m dying with it.”
She inhaled sharply, disturbed by his declaration.
He seemed sincere. Could it be true? If it was, where did it leave them?
He was still broke, and she was still poor.
“You once told me,” he kept on, “that you loved me, too. Tell me that I haven’t squandered your affection. Tell me that you still feel the same.”
His entreaty was too compelling, and tears welled into her eyes.
From the first moment she’d met him, it was as if a magic spell had been cast, and she was incapable of avoiding its heady effects.
Despite what he’d done, despite how terribly she’d suffered, she was stupidly, foolishly, naively in love with him.
“You could never have squandered my affection,” she said and started to weep.
“Don’t cry! I can’t bear it when you’re sad.”
“I thought I would never see you again. I thought I would vanish, and you wouldn’t know or care.”
“My darling Mary. Forgive me, forgive me.”
He pulled her onto his lap, and she nestled at his nape, her tears wetting his shirt.
For many minutes, he held her, stroking her back, whispering tender words. Then he drew away and he swiped at her cheeks with his thumbs.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, “and I have an idea about what we should do.”
“What is it?”
“I have a tiny property north of London.”
“You what?”
“I own some property. It’s where I come by my title. There is a house that’s in dreadful condition, as well as a small farm, but the fields are lying fallow.”
“You own a house and a farm?” She gaped at him, stunned, scarcely able to believe it.
“It was my brother’s, and after he died, my father was grieving, and he let it fall into disrepair. By the time I was grown and its management was vested in me, I hadn’t the money to fix it, so I’ve never lived there. I never wanted to live there. It’s decrepit and drafty and dilapidated, but would you wed me and help me make it our home?”
What a peculiar man he was! He actually had a rural estate where he could dwell in quiet harmony, but instead, he’d opted for the bachelor’s room and London vice that had been the centerpiece of his adult years.
She’d assumed that she understood him, but what kind of person chose such an odd, unsatisfying existence? What did it imply about his character? About his wisdom and judgment?
“You’ve never resided there,” she said, “and you obviously view it as an unpalatable place. Why would you suddenly expect that you would be happy there?”
“Because you would be there with me.”
“And that would make you happy?”
“For the rest of my days.”
He kept uttering tempting declarations, and her pulse raced until she was giddy with the prospects for the future, but she was so hesitant.
He was offering marriage—again, which was a dicey proposition. He might or might not follow through. If she agreed to his scheme, but it turned out he was lying, how would she survive it? Yet if he was serious, she would have everything she’d ever craved.
The opportunity dangled between them, mesmerizing her, taunting her to reach out and grab for it.
Dare she?
“Does your country property have a name?” she asked.
“Redvers House.”
With his mentioning it, the spot became real. She could practically see the sagging roof, drooping shutters, and weed-strewn flower beds. Her mind whirred with plans as to how she’d get it habitable.
Was she mad? Was he?
“If I said yes,” she cautiously ventured, “when would we marry?”
“Tomorrow. I’ll apply for a Special License. We can leave the next morning, although there are a few things I need to do first.”
“What things?”
“You’re not aware of this, but your sister Cassandra is here.”
“In London?”
“No, here—in the house.”
“Whatever for?”
“While I was busy seducing you, Paxton was busy, too.”
“Mr. Adair and Cassandra?”
“Yes, and his father has given him a plantation in Jamaica. They’re sailing on Thursday, and they’re going to have the ship’s captain wed them once they’re out on the water.”
“Mr. Adair and Cassandra? You’re sure of this?”
“Yes.”
She couldn’t get over it, couldn’t imagine it. Of all the people whom she would have predicted to never marry again, it was Cassandra. And to dashing, suave, indolent Paxton Adair! It was bizarre.
When had love blossomed for them? How had Cassandra kept it a secret?
“I was thinking that I have gone mad,” she said, “but it seems the entire world has joined me.”
“It came as a shock to me, too. So I’d like to see them off down at the harbor, then”—he paused, appearing both delighted and guilty—“I have to visit my father, so I can formally introduce you to him. After that, we’ll depart for the country.”
“You want to introduce me? Why?”
“To show him my wonderful choice in a bride.” His cheeks reddened. “Perhaps he’ll realize I have some redeeming qualities, after all.”
“You have many redeeming qualities, Jordan. Ignore him when he tells you that you don’t.”
“My little champion,” he murmured. “I nearly lost you. How could I have been such a fool?”
He slid from his chair, went down on one knee, and took her hand in his.
“What are you doing?” she inquired.
“Felicity informed me that this is how a man proposes. I want to get it right.”
Her heart literally skipped a beat. If he proceeded, she didn’t have the strength to refuse him, yet she would be putting her happiness, her future, her very life in his keeping.
“I have always tried,” he started, “to live down to my father’s low expectations.”
“Yes, you have, and it makes me so angry.”
“I have been belligerent and careless and lazy. It was impossible to please him, so I never exerted myself, but I don’t want to be that man anymore.”
“Who do you want to be?”
“I want to be the man who loves you. You look at me, and you see someone who is better than I really am. I want to be that person for you.”
“Oh, Jordan...”
“I’m not saying it will be easy. I’m vain and proud, and I’m used to having my own way.”
“You certainly are.”
“We’ll be poor as the dickens for a time, but we may be able to rectify our fiscal situation.”
“I thought it was hopeless.”
“You convinced me it wasn
’t.”
“What is your plan?”
“There was a bit of a—let’s call it a dustup—when I left Monroe’s establishment with you.”
The tepid description alarmed her.
“What sort of dustup?”
“You needn’t worry about it, but I had intended to have a few harsh... ah ... words with several gentlemen in the morning. Their representative stopped by a while ago and offered me some cash—as damages for insulting me.”
“Money in lieu of fighting?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds advantageous. How thoroughly did they feel you were offended?”
“To the tune of a thousand pounds.”
She gasped. “A thousand?”
“Yes. So if we were very frugal, it would tide us over until we plant a crop at Redvers House. We need to get the farm earning an income again.”
A spark of optimism ignited. “That’s a marvelous idea.”
“Cassandra had a suggestion, too.”
“What is it?”
“She’s been curious as to why your father didn’t dower you. She was wondering if Victoria might have hidden your inheritance.”
Mary frowned. “Could she have?”
“I think Victoria is capable of any bad behavior, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll have my attorney, Mr. Thumberton, investigate. Even if your father didn’t provide for you, you might have a financial claim against the estate.”
“My goodness. Such a thing had never occurred to me.”
“Finally, I want to pursue a legal case against Harold Talbot.”
“For what?”
“For breach of promise, for his leading you on all those years.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would.” He grinned. “Let me harass him. It would amuse me very much.”
“You are awful.”
“Does that mean I have your permission?”
In reply, she merely chuckled.
With all he’d just told her, her head was spinning.
They could marry. She’d be Lady Redvers. He would give her a home, a family. They would both find a purpose in life—that being the renovation and revitalization of Redvers House. She might ultimately learn that her father had cared for her.
She could slap back at Harold for all his criticisms and slights!
