Tarnished, Tempted And Tamed (Historical Romance)

by Mary Brendan

  ‘Hush... I am fine...’ Fiona said kindly, as the young lady began blinking back guilty tears. ‘But I’m not sure my mama will quickly recover from this dreadful blow.’ Fiona knew Maude must feel the greatest fool alive. Although her mother now hated Cecil, at one time the woman had thought herself in love with her second husband. She had put her faith and trust in a man who’d given nothing but lies and deceit in return for sincere affection and loyalty.

  ‘I expect Major Wolfson acquainted you with our half-baked scheme to catch the smuggling gang.’ Joan had kept her voice low while looking very sheepish.

  ‘Yes...he did...’

  ‘You were very brave, Miss Chapman; I couldn’t have asked for a better impostor—’ Joan broke off, blushing and biting her lip. ‘Sorry, that was a daft thing to say.’ Soon she’d bounced back to resume excitedly, ‘It must have felt as though you’d been swept up in a Gothic novel. Luke Wolfson is such a handsome and brave hero and the whole thing is exceedingly romantic.’ Again Joan frowned at what she’d said. ‘I know why Papa got cross with me. I do sound like a very silly and flighty girl sometimes. Yet I’m almost twenty.’

  ‘It was quite thrilling—in hindsight, of course,’ Fiona ruefully admitted. ‘I was terrified at the time, but tried not to let on to those villains. Besides, I trusted in Mr Wolfson to rescue me,’ Fiona concluded softly.

  ‘If I tell you something, will you promise not to breathe a word to a soul?’ Joan asked.

  Fiona had been on the point of returning to her mother’s side, but noticed the duke had pulled up a chair close to Maude and was talking to her in an undertone.

  ‘I am disgraced, too!’ Joan hissed, rather tactlessly. ‘But thankfully only my papa and the major’s friend know about it. Oh, and Pip, too. He drove the gig that took me to see Mr Rockleigh, you see, but Papa has threatened the boy to keep quiet on pain of losing his livelihood. My father is still very angry at me for taking such a risk, but eventually he’ll calm down—’

  ‘You went to see Mr Rockleigh?’ Fiona interrupted Joan’s rattling report. She recalled Luke had told her that his friend Drew Rockleigh had set off back to London.

  Joan nodded. ‘I was trying to help with the plot to capture Jeremiah Collins, you see. I knew only the major could outwit the devil. So believing Wolfson at his friend’s hunting lodge I went off to find him, late at night, behind Papa’s back.’

  ‘I’m guessing your plan went awry.’ Fiona sounded calm despite her shock at hearing what the young woman had done.

  ‘Mr Rockleigh was on his own at his hunting lodge.’ Joan grimaced. ‘Thankfully Papa has now seen sense over trying to make the poor man marry me. I compromised him if anything...’ Joan sighed. ‘I refused to have him, but I expect Mr Rockleigh must hate me for causing him such trouble, especially as he brought me home safely.’

  A small muffled noise from Maude drew Fiona hurriedly back to her mother’s side, fearing yet more bad news was to be had.

  ‘You are very good to us, sir,’ Maude gulped. She put away her handkerchief and turned to Fiona, making an effort to compose herself. ‘His Grace has kindly invited us to stay the night at Thornley Heights as his guests, Fiona. Then in the morning he will escort us to London to sort out this terrible mess.’

  ‘Oh, capital!’ Joan burst out. ‘I love to have company and I adore London.’ She gave her papa a twinkling smile, just in case he had intended leaving her behind. ‘I shall pack a few things after dinner. I’m so looking forward to it.’ She linked arms with Fiona as though they were old friends. ‘We have so much to talk about.’

  ‘I must let Rose know what has been decided.’ Maude made to rise, but the duke stopped her with a hand on her arm.

  ‘My daughter will send a message down to the servants. I expect your maid is taking refreshment.’

  Fiona smiled although privately feeling rather melancholy. She yearned to see Luke again, but accepted any meeting would be delayed by this latest calamity. There was no urgency to be with the man she loved, other than to revel in his closeness. She knew to abandon her mother would be selfish; besides, she trusted that Luke would still want her, whether it was in a day, or a month’s time, that they were finally reunited.

  He might be a gentleman who in his time had dallied with a variety of women, but she believed him fair and honest. She was sure that he’d fulfil the promise he’d made to care for her and protect her.

  Given time, and a successful result against the smugglers, she guessed that Luke would journey to Dartmouth, believing her to have taken up employment with the Herberts. He wasn’t fickle; he’d not give up his pursuit of her too easily. And if he did...then he was not the man she believed him to be.

  * * *

  ‘I have spent far too much time lately riding in carriages...’ Fiona mused, partly to herself, gazing out of the window at drifting fluffy clouds.

  ‘I’ll warrant none of those contraptions were anywhere near as luxurious as this one,’ Maude returned, nestling further into supple hide squabs. Although they had been journeying for almost two hours the woman was still in awe of the splendid crested coach that was taking them to the metropolis. She ran her appreciative fingers over the upholstery for the hundredth time.

  ‘Papa does own some very nice vehicles,’ Joan piped up. She had insisted on riding with the ladies rather than with her father. So Maude and Rose shared one spacious seat and the two younger women sat opposite. The Duke of Thornley was travelling ahead with his valet in another impressive conveyance, flanked by liveried outriders. ‘When I turned seventeen he bought me a landau so I might parade around Hyde Park with my friends.’

  ‘Do you visit London often?’ Fiona had wondered why the younger woman wasn’t enjoying the London Season. Most spinsters of Lady Joan’s age and elevated status wanted to be part of the vivacious social whirl in town in springtime.

  Joan pulled a face. ‘Since Mama passed away my father has withdrawn into his shell. And taken me with him,’ she added rather wistfully. ‘But I don’t begrudge comforting him as best I can. My parents liked to spend time in Devon and were so very happily married...’ Joan frowned and shot a look under her brows at Maude.

  ‘Lucky people indeed...’ the woman muttered sourly.

  ‘So you will relish this unexpected outing,’ Fiona burst out, keen to keep a light atmosphere. She’d been surprised that Joan was not even engaged. She was a very pretty young woman and with such wealth and connections would attract a horde of eligible suitors. But Joan obviously knew her own mind and had rejected her father’s choice when hapless Drew Rockleigh compromised her. He was a very handsome fellow, Fiona recalled, but other than that he might have nothing to recommend him.

  ‘Indeed, I am delighted to be going to town!’ Joan had been peering out of the window at passing scenery, but now settled back and clapped her gloved hands in excitement. ‘When we arrive in Mayfair the first thing we must do is arrange a big party...’ She hesitated and glanced at the unhappy woman in the corner. ‘If you would like to, of course.’

  ‘That sounds a splendid idea.’ Maude bucked herself up. She might be dejected on her own account, but she knew she must not look a gift horse in the mouth. There was never likely to be a better opportunity to re-launch her daughter into society and find her a husband. Maude knew it was Fiona’s last chance. A twenty-five-year-old spinster was more of an age to be a debutante’s chaperon at the marriage mart, than her friend or rival. Maude discreetly assessed Fiona’s profile; her daughter had turned up her face to allow the sun streaming in the carriage window to gild it. She seemed prettier, Maude decided, her hair blonder and her complexion peachier. Her daughter’s usual air of serenity seemed subdued by a vibrant, if rather secretive, happiness. Maude had guessed that Fiona had a hankering for her handsome rescuer and was harbouring fantasies of a happy ending with him. What girl would not fall in love with such a dashing
hero? Before Maude had even learned of the service Wolfson had done her daughter she had thought he appeared to be a charismatic man.

  Of course the major knew all the details of Fiona’s disgrace so could not be counted on for anything other than his discretion—which the duke, during their private talk yesterday, had assured her Wolfson had gladly given. If Fiona’s dreadful ordeal leaked out she would be shunned, but Maude’s flagging spirits where her daughter was concerned were boosted as she reminded herself that they now had the patronage of the Duke of Thornley. Few would dare question the calibre of the friends of such a rich and influential man.

  Maude settled back with an air of resignation. As far as her own situation was concerned she knew she must make the best of a bad hand. She had wished her marriage to Cecil had never taken place...and it seemed she’d got her wish, albeit courtesy of a very shocking and humiliating set of circumstances. She lifted her chin an inch, knowing she must find some of the grit her daughter had in abundance and stare down any malicious gossips.

  Fiona heard her mother’s tiny satisfied sigh and, feeling pleased by it, she relaxed. She could scarce credit that so much had happened in so short a space of time.

  Having spent a comfortable night in a sumptuous chamber, mother and daughter had risen early, as had the rest of the household. The duke had said at dinner the previous evening that he wanted to set off for London immediately after breakfast and indeed that had happened. At the crack of dawn the house had been a hive of industry as the servants finished the preparations for their master’s trip to town and served up a huge repast that seemed to Fiona barely necessary as she was still feeling full from the twenty courses or so of dinner from the previous evening.

  Despite the thick mattresses and silky smooth sheets Fiona had slept little with her mind crammed with worries. At one point she had given up trying to count sheep and had got up and stared out of the window into blackness where Luke’s face seemed to haunt every cloud and shadow. Now, the rocking of the coach and her exhaustion combined to lull her and her lashes dropped over her weary eyes.

  * * *

  She wasn’t sure for how long she slept but she awoke with a start and quickly looked at her companions to note they, too, had nodded off. She realised then what had brought her awake: the coach was slowing down and bumping over ruts formed by a multitude of other carriage wheels that had turned into this tavern courtyard. Inwardly Fiona groaned; she had been inside many such establishments lately and would have preferred to journey on.

  ‘Why are we stopping?’ Maude came awake with a start and craned her head out of the window.

  ‘It is the Halfway House,’ Joan said, rubbing her sleepy eyes. ‘We always break our journey here. Papa will bespeak us a private room so we might have some refreshment.’

  * * *

  ‘Oh, no!’

  Fiona had been gazing at some drizzle trailing down the leaded windows when she heard Joan’s muted gasp of dismay. Moments ago they had been shown to the back parlour of the Halfway House. Joan had been about to take a fireside chair while Fiona continued to stretch her stiff legs, promenading to and fro in the cosy room. Now she returned to Joan’s side, but the young woman, with a wary glance at her father who was ensconced with Maude on a sofa, skipped to the door. It had been left slightly ajar by the landlord who’d gone to fetch their food. Quickly Joan pushed it shut.

  ‘What is it?’ Fiona asked in concern.

  ‘Who is it? That’s what you should have asked.’ Joan swivelled her eyes in a show of exasperation. ‘I just spied Mr Rockleigh in the corridor! I hope Papa does not see him. I think they are under a very fragile truce following my visit to the man’s lodge.’ She sighed. ‘Oh, what a bother and such bad luck to run into him here!’

  ‘Are you sure it was him? Was he alone?’ Fiona frowned.

  The two young ladies stepped to the window so they might talk more privately under the guise of observing the worsening weather.

  Joan shook her head. ‘Oh, he was not accompanied by his friend, the major,’ she explained quietly. ‘He had a dark-haired young woman with him.’

  ‘I see...’ Fiona tried to curb her dreadful disappointment. Just for a moment she had imagined that Luke might be under the same roof as her, but she realised it was more likely his mistress was instead. It was a puzzle why Luke’s friends had not already reached London and the only solution Fiona could come up with caused her heart to thump in anxiety. Had Becky Peake and Drew Rockleigh been waiting for Luke to join them before journeying on? Fiona felt the pain around her heart increase as her mind pounced on a dreadful reason for his delay in turning up. Luke might even now be lying murdered in that desolate graveyard that the Collins gang used as a hideaway.

  ‘I hope he is planning on leaving soon,’ Joan fretted in a whisper. ‘Papa is unpredictable. He might blow his top, or sink into one of his moods if they unexpectedly come face to face.’ She shot a look at the door. ‘Perhaps I should go and see if I can find the dratted fellow and warn him to conceal himself.’ She nibbled at her lower lip. ‘I must find an excuse to slip away...’

  ‘I’ll go,’ Fiona said hoarsely. ‘We’ve not been introduced, but I know what Mr Rockleigh looks like. I’ll explain the situation to him.’

  ‘Oh, would you? That is very kind.’

  Joan’s grateful smile helped Fiona swallow her misgivings over her impetuous offer. She felt desperate to have any news of Luke that she could, although she was naturally reluctant to accost people she didn’t know. A meeting with Becky Peake was especially daunting to her. Yet she also had a morbid wish to come face to face with her rival and perhaps with womanly intuition gauge just how entwined in Luke’s life the woman was.

  Fiona hurried out into the corridor with her mother’s bewildered expression imprinted on her mind. Of course the woman would be sceptical about her excuse that she was in need of a little fresh air. They had all only recently come indoors after all...and it had turned to rain.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Halfway House was a far larger inn than any that Fiona had previously frequented.

  The maze of intersecting corridors that ran into back and side annexes was busy and she was relieved that most of the travellers appeared too harassed to bother about her slender presence weaving through the throng.

  A very rotund fellow barged impatiently past, causing Fiona to ram a flat palm on the top of her bonnet to prevent it being knocked askew. She then resumed scouring the crowd for a pretty brunette or a strikingly fair-haired gentleman. Instead of clapping eyes on either of those individuals she rounded a corner and spied a handsome tanned face.

  She might only have got a glimpse of his profile before other people surged forward to block her view, but it was enough for Fiona to recognise Luke. She’d know him anywhere, she realised, even in a darkened room. Her senses were attuned to him, like an animal scenting its mate. And then her fanciful yearning was quashed and she was jolted to harsh reality.

  Becky Peake was with him. The crowd surrounding the couple dispersed and, snatching her chance, the brunette pressed her mouth to her lover’s. Luke removed his mistress’s arms from about his neck and turned...

  Astonishment transformed his features, then he took a pace forward, shaking off Becky’s fingers as she again reached for him.

  ‘I thought you and your mother were staying at Thornley Heights.’ Luke had reached Fiona in a few long strides, taking her hands in his.

  Fiona moistened her lips, wondering how he knew she’d been the Duke of Thornley’s guest, or that Maude had joined her in Devon. But seeing him being kissed by the mistress he’d said he’d finished with had ignited a fiery reaction within that overpowered her reason. She snatched back her hands. ‘We were at His Grace’s house, but left this morning to travel to London,’ she answered frostily.

  ‘I need to speak to you on a very important ma
tter, Fiona,’ Luke said huskily. He thrust his fingers through his glossy raven hair. ‘Actually, there are numerous things I must say to you privately.’

  ‘I see...and these matters are so vital that you travelled in the opposite direction to that in which you expected me to be.’ She glanced past at the woman watching them through narrowed eyes. ‘Your mistress is waiting for you, sir. I doubt we have anything left to say to one another.’ Fiona knew she was acting like a jealous shrew, but she couldn’t control herself. She was desperately keen to know what had occurred between Luke and Jeremiah Collins, but then realised he might have forgone a confrontation with the smuggler in favour of chasing after his paramour.

  Luke’s mouth slanted in sardonic contemplation of Fiona’s indignant, blushing face. ‘If you allow me to explain, my dear, seeing me with Becky will seem quite insignificant to you, as indeed the meeting is.’

  Fiona raised furious eyes to his. ‘Your arrogance and conceit is breathtaking, Mr Wolfson. Why would that woman matter to me?’

  ‘I wasn’t convinced last time you said you were indifferent to what I get up to,’ he drawled, taking her arm and steering her towards the door that led outside into the courtyard. ‘I’m no more persuaded now. But you will listen to everything I have to say whether you like it or not.’

  ‘Unhand me!’ Fiona hissed, trying to wrench her elbow from his grip.

  But he forced her with him into the cool damp afternoon and before she knew it they were protected from the drizzle and from view by a large privet bush. When Luke removed his hand from her arm Fiona flung herself around to glare at him with sparking tawny eyes. ‘To my previous complaints about your character I now add that you are the most ill-mannered man alive. Don’t you dare rough handle me! And you have abandoned your mistress without giving her the courtesy of a word of explanation.’

  ‘She needs none. Becky knows about us and that she is no longer my mistress. And I didn’t want her farewell kiss just now.’