No Regrets

by Michele Ann Young

  Good heavens. Whoever it was had brought his horse up the front path. Maestro. Her stomach pitched. Then the visitor must be Lucas. She ignored her pounding pulse. After yesterday, surely there was nothing more to say. Or was there?

  "Lord Foxhaven," the footman announced.

  Lucas, his black greatcoat buttoned to his chin, filled the doorway. He smiled calmly enough, but deep in his eyes swirled a dark glint of excitement. "Good evening, ladies."

  Caro raised a brow and moved away from the window. "What an unexpected pleasure, my lord."

  He bowed. "The pleasure is all mine."

  Miss Salter got to her feet and edged toward the door. She didn't look terribly surprised. Caro gestured for her to stay. "I am afraid we are not prepared for visitors this evening. You find us en famille."

  "I am hardly a visitor, Caro," he said, a faint edge of bitterness in his voice. "It is my house."

  Her heartbeat quickened. The wretch. She would not engage in a duel of words. "This is not the hour for calls."

  His gaze flicked to Miss Salter.

  "I will just see if the girls are all right," she said and scooted past him and out of the door.

  Traitor, Caro thought.

  A lopsided grin lit Lucas's face. Suddenly, he seemed extraordinarily smug about Miss Salter's retreat. Suspicion unfurled in Caro's mind along with a strange sensation in her belly, anxiety mixed with a flutter of anticipation, the kind she'd felt in his arms and in his bed.

  "Why are you here?" she said, aiming for calm and failing.

  He cocked a brow. "Why aren't you at the Granthams'?"

  "I declined the invitation."

  A couple of thumps and a shriek came from above their heads. The children were playing games again, or fighting.

  He took a step closer. "I came to change your mind."

  "What?" Her stomach tumbled over. Fool. He meant the party. "Do you want a worse scandal when the news of our divorce becomes common knowledge? We cannot impose on people we have known all our lives."

  "Do you care so much about what other people think?"

  "I care about my sisters and their reputations."

  "If you really cared about them, you'd do everything in your power to avoid the scandal of a divorce." His tone softened. "You still have a choice."

  Hadn't she done her best to make their marriage work in London, only to be rejected for his other affairs? The fact that his other affairs had been a music school made it easier to bear, but only a little. He had pushed her away at every opportunity— especially when their mutual lust flared out of control. Yesterday was hers to treasure.

  She folded her arms across her chest. "I have made my choice."

  "I claim the right of a husband to try to change your mind, not for your sisters' sake, but for yours and for mine."

  She stared at him, at his face, waiting for the charming smile to cajole her, his hot glance to fire her blood. She cloaked herself in chilly resentment. Not this time.

  He strode to face her and then catching her beneath her knees and around her shoulders, he swept her up into his arms. She gasped. "What are you doing?"

  "What I should have done the first time."

  He stormed into the hallway where Lizzie stood holding the front door open, Caro's cloak in her hand. "It's a wee bit nippy tonight." She threw the cloak over her.

  "Lizzie!" Caro squeaked.

  Before she could say more, Lucas pushed out of the door. "Hold tight, Caro," he warned with a frowning glance. He grabbed Maestro's reins and lifted his foot to the stirrup. "If I have to tie you up, you will come with me."

  How like Lucas. A laugh bubbled in her chest despite her resolve. She tamped it down, before he sensed his advantage. "You are mad. Where are we going?"

  He heaved them both into the saddle and settled her across his lap, pulling her cloak around her, tucking it between them.

  "You'll see." He wheeled the horse around and out into the lane. They galloped across the common and over the hill. Maestro's hooves beat out a steady rhythm, his breath harsh in the still night air. They were headed for the Granthams'.

  She bit her lip. It would be so easy to give in. If only he loved her.

  Short of jumping off the horse and breaking her neck, there was little to be done until they reached their destination. She relaxed into his strong onehanded embrace, feeling the warmth of his chest against her back, inhaling sandalwood cologne and crisp night air. The wind whipped her hair in her face and his. She relaxed. If there was anything she could trust, it was his horsemanship.

  It was no surprise when they rode up the curved beech-lined avenue to Grantham Hall. Flambeaux lit the courtyard, and lackeys stood at the ready, but no carriages lined the gravel drive.

  "Where is everyone?" she asked.

  "Perhaps they all declined," Lucas muttered. He sounded odd, uncertain, yet still full of repressed tension. The flickering torches cast light over his lean face, his eyes hidden in shadow. He was truly a darkly handsome man.

  And she was still a dumpling. She didn't care, she realized. He had said she was gorgeous in his eyes. He never lied.

  The door flew open as if they were expected. Tigs, looking smart in brand new livery, waved them in with a grin that seemed to reach his ears. Lucas kneed his mount forward.

  The horrible truth hit her. "No, Lucas. Not inside. Not again."

  Maestro shifted beneath them, his great hindquarters bunching, and then they leaped the front steps and clattered into the empty hall. The guests had indeed not yet arrived. Caro breathed a sigh of relief. Torches lit the walls, and candles and flowers carpeted the tables. Rows of chairs faced the dais, where a group of musicians practiced a rousing tune. Lady Audley floated toward them.

  Tisha? Caro glanced up at Lucas; his mouth had flattened to a thin line, and his eyes had darkened to onyx. His expression seemed grim.

  "Enough of this, Lucas," Caro said. "You will only anger Lord Grantham again."

  "If that was my only problem, I'd be a happy man," Lucas said, his voice a low growl in her ear. He brought Maestro to a prancing halt.

  Tisha's eyes twinkled with mirth. She seemed hard put not to laugh. Heat flared in Caro's cheeks. He was making a fool of her. He'd cooked up some kind of scheme with Tisha, just the way he had with the Grantham boys when they were children. "I want to go home."

  "Lord Foxhaven," Tisha said, "there are perfectly good stables at the back of the house."

  "I need to borrow a bedroom," Lucas said.

  Caro had played this scene before and didn't like it any more now than she had then. She opened her mouth to protest.

  "This way," Tisha said. She giggled and raced up the stairs ahead of them.

  The world had gone completely mad. Caro's mind whirled around the possibility that she was dreaming. She clung to the only solid thing available: Lucas. Her hands clutched his lean waist. She stared at his strong throat and a jaw already shadowed with stubble. An almost irresistible urge to kiss that hard jaw quickened her pulse and tightened a throat aching with tears.

  Yesterday's taste of the pleasure had been a fatal mistake, a breach of her carefully constructed resistance to his blatant allure.

  Tisha flung open the door of the chamber where they had made their ridiculous agreement more than a year ago.

  Lucas lowered Caro from Maestro's back, capturing her wrist the moment he dismounted. Did he think she would run away? This time, she would call his bluff.

  "If you will excuse me," Tisha said. "I have a wedding to plan?" With a face as red as a peony, Tisha grabbed Maestro's bridle and trotted him down the hall.

  Caro stared after her. "A wedding? I thought it was a musicale?"

  "We'll discuss it inside," Lucas said and gestured for her to enter. The room seemed brighter, cleaner, less shabby—almost as though they were expected. He kicked the door shut with his heel and let Caro's wrist drop.

  "Now," he said in an ominous voice.

  She swung around to face him, putting d
istance between them. "What is this all about?"

  His body lacked its usual grace, wide shoulders taut, back stiff, jaw hard. "I brought you here so we could start anew."

  They were back to their agreement. She shook her head. "It won't work." She loved him far too much to be a wife in name only.

  He planted himself in front of her and gripped her shoulders painfully. She gasped. His dark eyes blazed. "Would it make any difference if I told you I love you, that I want to spend the rest of my life trying to convince you to love me?"

  The words came at her with such fury that for a moment, she didn't believe her hearing. "You love me?" She couldn't help the disbelief she heard in her voice.

  "After yesterday, can you doubt it?"

  She wrapped her arms around her waist. "Why are you saying this now?"

  He fell to one knee, pulled her hand free, and pressed his lips to each finger, one at a time. Warmth trickled into her stomach; her inner muscles tightened and pulsed.

  Transfixed by his dark serious gaze, she felt her heart beat a slow tattoo of cautious joy, while her mind warned her to take care.

  "Caro, my love. I love your courage and your loyalty to your family, and to me, when I never deserved it, but most of all I love you. I'm just sorry it took me so long to dare to say the words."

  She opened her mouth to deny the possibility.

  "Let me finish. Please."

  She nodded.

  "I tied myself in knots seeking my father's love, gave up my music, and followed the path he chose for me, and yet in the end, it just wasn't good enough. I wasn't good enough. I swore I would never let anyone control me like that again. My desire to please you scared me as much as your dissatisfaction with what I had let myself become." He uttered a little laugh. "Not that I am nearly as bad as I am purported to be."

  "I know," she whispered. "You are good and kind. And you are just doing this to save me from scandal."

  "Damn it, Caro. Can't you see? I am doing this for me . . . for us. I cannot live without you, and I will not let you leave me if I have to lock you in this room forever." He grinned. "Naked, if need be."

  A shimmer of visceral pleasure pulsed low in her abdomen at the naughty image.

  He sighed. "No, I won't do that. But I won't let you go, until I am absolutely sure you could never return my love. After yesterday, I won't believe you feel nothing at all. But I won't force you."

  Her heart felt so light, she thought she might float away if he were not holding her fast to the ground. "You never forced me." Her words caught on a laugh. "I knew you wouldn't ruin me. I took advantage of your need for money. I thought I could change you back into the boy I remembered."

  His smile died. "He's gone."

  "Not entirely. He's grown up and knows pain and hurt, but he's still there, rescuing maidens in distress. But you deserve someone far more beautiful than me, someone elegant and worldly."

  "There you go again, belittling yourself. Don't you realize how lovely you are to me? Didn't you see how those damn Frenchmen couldn't take their eyes from you because they thought you were unmarried? You drove me mad with jealousy. It must be your choice this time, but believe me when I say I love you. Marry me."

  She blinked. "I thought we were married?"

  His eyes danced. "I mean a proper marriage, not a secret agreement and a drunken blacksmith in Gretna Green. A wedding with our family and friends around us. A marriage built on trust and respect and love. There's a special license in my pocket and a vicar downstairs."

  Her mouth dropped open. She closed it with a snap. "The party?"

  "It's our wedding, Caro. Yours and mine. I even brought my own musicians from London."

  "Your orphans?"

  He nodded. "Yes. I'm afraid you are marrying into a ready-made family. They live at the house you thought I purchased for my mistress. I didn't want anyone to know what I was doing in case it didn't work."

  "I know. Your father told me."

  He smiled up at her, love and dread shining in his eyes. "Please, Caro, say yes. My knee will never be the same again if I don't get up soon."

  She gazed into his wonderful, handsome face and laughed. "After climbing up the outside of a tower and then snatching me from a church, surely you can stand a few moments of pain."

  "Not this kind. You know I hate to wait." Anxiety swirled with the laughter in his voice.

  She suddenly felt shy. "Yes, Lucas, I would like that very much."

  He leaped to his feet, hauled her into his arms, and kissed her soundly and deeply. The world spun away. There was only her and him.

  A knock sounded at the door. Caro jumped.

  "Come in," Lucas called.

  Alex and Lucy and Jacqueline poured in, followed by Lizzie carrying a gown and Miss Salter with a bouquet and a floral headdress.

  "Out you go, your lordship," Lizzie said. "Lady Audley said I have ten minutes to prepare my lady, and I need every single one."

  "Eight minutes," Lucas said, with a laugh. "If she is not down there in eight minutes, Maestro and I will be back to carry her off."

  Eight minutes later, Lucas watched his bride walk down the stone stairs. The stars in her glorious amber eyes outshone the diamonds at her throat.

  He would make damn sure he was worthy of the love shining in her face. He poured his heart into his gaze and smiled his promise.

  No more regrets.

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to thank my agent, Scott Eagan, for his belief in my work and my editor, Deb Werksman, for her suggestions and effort in making the book the best it could be. I also want to thank my wonderful critique partners, Molly, Mary, Mareen, Sinead, Susan, and Teresa, for their advice, encouragement, and perseverance.

  About the Author

  Born and educated in England, Michèle Ann Young loved history growing up, and as a voracious reader of historical novels, she became fascinated with the Regency era. With all the glamour and glitz of high society, the age is modern enough to be familiar some two hundred years later. She loves bringing the time period to life with her stories of women facing the same issues that women face today.

  From England she moved to Canada, where she now lives and writes in Richmond Hill, Ontario, with her husband and two beautiful daughters and their adopted Maltese terrier, Teaser. Each summer, Michèle returns to England to visit family and to research her next novel.

  Michèle loves to hear from readers. Visit her at her website at http://www.micheleannyoung.com, or drop by her Regency Ramble blog at http://www. micheleannyoung.blogspot.com, where, in addition to the odd bit of writing gossip, she shares the sights and sounds of Regency England from her annual travels.

  www.micheleyoung.sourcebooksromance.com