Heart of a Marquess: Regency Romance (Gentlemen and Brides)

by Joyce Alec

  There was a pause as Matthew searched for an answer.

  “I don’t know, Charles, but I don’t like it. Don’t you find it in the least bit suspicious that he was here, in White’s, and just happened to overhear our conversation about Lady Martha?”

  Charles didn’t answer. He felt wooden, all his limbs stiff and unbending. Lord Crewe’s final words echoed through his mind. She’d appeared to be a genteel young woman who enjoyed his company and made him laugh. She had never tried to seduce him or given him any indication that her thoughts turned in that direction. He had started to imagine he had found his soulmate and began to imagine life with her at his side—only for it all to be dashed away.

  “Charles, you mustn’t write her off so quickly,” Matthew’s warning tone filled his ears. “Just go to her and ask her for the truth.”

  “I was open and honest with her,” Charles growled, pushing back his chair so hard it toppled to the floor. “And look where it’s got me. Now everyone will be laughing at me even more! ‘Look how easily Lord Green was seduced,’ they will say. I will never be able to lift my head up in society again!”

  Anger flooding him, he let out a roar of rage and strode out of the club, leaving an astonished and concerned Matthew in his wake.

  “I don’t think your suitor is coming today, my dear.” Gerald’s silky tones echoed down the hallway as he slowly came down the staircase. “I have made sure of that.”

  The happiness she was feeling evaporated in an instant as Martha turned to see the evil face of her stepbrother grinning at her.

  “Gerald, what have you done?”

  “What have I done?” he asked, placing a hand over his heart in mock dismay. “I have done nothing, dear sister. What you have done, on the other hand, is wasted your dowry on a man who compromised you.” He grinned at her obvious shock, drawing himself ever closer. “You see, Martha, there is no escape. I shall get what I want.”

  “Gerald, why? Over a measly piece of land? You’ve said it many times over; the land is worth nothing.” Tears welled up in her eyes, “What have I ever done to you? My father was nothing but kind to you and left you his entire fortune to care for me. You have no right! Just let me go, and I will be out of your way and you will never have to see me again.”

  “So, you will sign over your land to me?”

  “It’s all that I have left, Gerald. You cannot have it.”

  “Sign it over!” Gerald screamed, mustering up every ounce of anger he had in his body.

  “Never!”

  Gerald grabbed Marth her by the hair, striking her across the face as she began to struggle.

  “It matters not,” he sneered, releasing her. “You have a few days left, Martha, but I assure you that all hope is gone. Even if you don’t sign it over to me, I can still take possession of it when you are twenty-five years old. Nobody wants you now. Nobody will ever want you.”

  Leaning against the wall, Martha struggled to breathe, feeling the walls of her cage closing in. He had destroyed everything. Everything in her hoped that Charles did not believe a word her stepbrother said, but she knew from the look of triumph on Gerald’s face that it was not the case. She didn’t expect to see Charles that day. She didn’t expect to see Charles ever again. Tears pouring down her face, she left the townhouse, stumbling towards Hyde Park, hoping that perhaps he would be there, and she could explain everything to him.

  “Martha? Martha!” Suzanne rushed over to her friend, seeing her in a state of utter anguish. “Whatever’s happened?”

  “Gerald!” Martha cried, her tears coming in great floods. “Gerald has taken him away from me.”

  “Who?”

  “Lord Green!”

  “Come, come now,” Suzanne said soothingly. “Come and sit in the carriage and tell me everything. It is just as well I was passing, my dear, for you were almost in a state of collapse.”

  Suzanne helped her shaking friend up into her carriage, ignoring her mother’s hiss of disapproval.

  “Drive on,” she called, rapping the top of the carriage. “Now, Martha, start at the beginning. What has happened?”

  Great, heaving sobs shook Martha’s frame as she struggled for breath. Suzanne sat patiently, rubbing Martha’s back until she was finally composed enough to speak.

  “Gerald spoke to Charles,” she murmured, through hiccupping sobs. “He told Charles that I’ve been compromised and wasted my dowry.”

  Martha cried harder, her entire world falling to pieces around her.

  “How do we know it’s not true?” Suzanne’s mother said, glaring at Martha. “From what I hear…”

  “That’s enough, Mama!” Suzanne said, sharply. “Have a little sympathy.”

  Her mother immediately fell silent, shocked at Suzanne’s abrupt tone.

  “It’s not true, none of it is true,” Martha sobbed, as Suzanne put an arm around her shaking shoulders. “I don’t know what to do, Suzanne, I don’t know what to do.”

  Suzanne looked directly at her mother while speaking to Martha, “You can come and stay with us, can’t she, Mama?”

  Quailing under the sight of her daughter’s stern gaze, her mother nodded.

  “It’s of no use,” Martha said, lifting red-rimmed eyes to her friend’s face. “Gerald is my legal guardian. He can demand my return at any moment.”

  Suzanne shrugged her shoulders, and said, “Then we will find a way to hide you. No matter what, we will keep you safe from him.”

  With no other option, Martha nodded, trying to smile. Even if it meant hiding and moving about from place to place for the rest of her life, Martha would find a way to escape Gerald.

  Suzanne ran a light finger down the side of Martha’s face.

  “Did he hit you?” she said quietly.

  Not trusting her voice, Martha nodded. Suzanne did not miss the look of shock that flashed onto her mother’s face.

  “Let’s go home,” she said, patting Martha’s hand. “We will stop by the house, and you can gather whatever you can manage. We will need to be quick.”

  “Thank you,” Martha replied, feeling relief flood her.

  Later that evening, Suzanne sat her mother and father down and explained everything. Martha had been resting since the very moment they arrived. By the end of her speech, both Suzanne’s father and mother expressed their concern for Martha.

  "How awful," her mother breathed. "Why would anyone do such a thing? He is her stepbrother."

  “I do not know why he is doing it, Mama,” Suzanne replied. “He is a man used to getting what he wants, and since Martha has repeatedly turned down his request for her last possession, he has become vicious and cruel.”

  “I should call him out,” her father said, getting up. “A man like that ought to get his comeuppance.”

  “No!” Suzanne exclaimed, leaping to her feet. “Father, you know that is forbidden, and I am sure that Lord Crewe is an excellent shot. Besides,” she said, a little more calmly, “all we need to do is find Martha a suitable husband. When she is married, then Lord Crewe can have no more sway over her.”

  “Come now,” her mother said, shaking her head. “No suitable young man would dare touch Lady Martha now, considering the rumors and the fact she has no dowry. Wherever would you find such a man?”

  Suzanne smiled. “I do not need to find one,” she said, thinking of Lord Green. “I already have someone in mind.”

  10

  “Come on,” Matthew said, prodding Charles in the ribs. “Get up! We’ve been summoned.”

  “Go away,” Charles groaned, screwing up his eyes at the unwelcome sight of his friend’s happy face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Matthew threw back the drapes. “Oh, yes you are. Lady Suzanne wants to see us. To see us both.” He waved her note in Charles’s face. “Now, we cannot be rude and ignore her request, can we?”

  Charles wanted nothing more than to remain in his bed and drink as much whiskey as he pleased until Lady Martha's face disappeared from his
thoughts.

  Charles finally grumbled, "I need to tell my butler to stop letting you in."

  “Your butler knows that you are miserable,” Matthew said, opening the window to let the clean air into the room. “I know that you are miserable, too. Everyone knows you are miserable. So get out of bed, and let us go and see what Lady Suzanne wants.”

  “You just want to see her again,” Charles retorted, pushing himself up to a sitting position.

  “There is that,” Matthew replied, not denying it. “She has quite captured me, I can tell you.”

  “Hmph,” Charles replied, rubbing a hand over his face. “I suppose if I have to, I shall go. Why does she wish to see us?”

  Matthew shrugged, glad he’d chosen not to read Suzanne’s letter aloud.

  “I don’t know, and I am an impatient sort, so please do hurry up and get dressed.” Mathew wrinkled his nose, as he said, “Although perhaps wash first. And a shave wouldn’t hurt.” He grinned at Charles’s scowl, letting himself out of the room. “I shall be in the dining room. Your butler has promised me some breakfast.”

  Matthew shut the door before the boot that Charles threw in his direction hit the door.

  An hour later, Charles and Matthew bowed to Lady Suzanne, who sat them down at once and rang for tea.

  “I am sure you are wondering why I asked you both to call, especially since we are going riding this afternoon, Lord Hoskins.” She smiled at Matthew, who returned her smile with one of his own.

  Charles coughed, deliberately ruining the moment.

  “Now,” Suzanne continued. “I have heard, Lord Green, that you have been told something of the most terrible nature concerning my friend, Lady Martha.”

  “If I might spare you the trouble,” Charles said, getting to his feet, “I am well aware that you are going to defend her with all of your might, but it will be to no avail. Good day, my lady.”

  "Sit down at once, Lord Green." Suzanne rose to her feet, her color rising, "You do me a great discourtesy by refusing to listen to a single word I have to say, and I will not have it. I have known Martha far longer than you, and you should at least respect that."

  Charles, intimidated by her sudden anger and ashamed by his slight, sat back down immediately, dropping his gaze to somewhere near her feet.

  Matthew couldn’t hold in his laughter. “Well, Suzanne—may I call you Suzanne? That is the first time I have ever seen Charles put in his place by a woman. If I may say so, well done.”

  “Thank you, Lord Hoskins. And yes, given the circumstances, you may call me Suzanne. I shall refer to you the same.”

  Charles mumbled something under his breath, earning him an icy stare from Suzanne.

  “Now, Lord Green, would you like to tell me precisely what it is that you believe about Martha?”

  Sitting up a little straighter, Charles glowered at the interfering lady. “No, I do not, I thank you. It is not for a gentlewoman’s ears.”

  “Really?” Suzanne retorted, quirking an eyebrow. “Might it be something along the lines of Martha being compromised?” Charles’s head shot up. “Ah, I see that it was.”

  "How do you know of such a thing?" Charles asked. "Oh, I assume you, too, have heard the many rumors, have you? There are too many rumors of a similar nature to be ignored, Lady Suzanne. They must have a basis in fact."

  “What a ludicrous assumption, Charles,” Matthew interjected. “The lady may simply have an enemy who wishes to make cause her to fall from grace within society.”

  Suzanne nodded, throwing him a look of thanks. At least she only now had to convince one gentleman, not two.

  “Indeed she does.”

  “Truly? Who?” asked Charles, with disbelief in his tone.

  “It is her stepbrother, Gerald.”

  “Come now,” Charles cried, pushing himself to standing. “For what possible benefit would he do such a thing? The man promised his stepfather to care for her and has inherited much of his fortune. Why would he tell such lies about her? To do so would ensure she could never marry and would always be a burden on him—living on his wealth and staying in his home. The idea is absurd!”

  There was silence, broken by the maid bringing in the tea tray and leaving almost as quickly as she had come in.

  Suzanne took a breath, knowing she was going to have to be frank with Charles.

  “I believe Martha wanted to tell you something about her stepbrother, but never got the chance. Is that correct?”

  Charles nodded mutely, his eyes fixed on the floor.

  "What she wanted to tell you, Lord Green, was that her stepbrother was holding her to ransom."

  “What?” breathed Matthew. “How terrible.”

  “She has been a prisoner in her own home, held in a cage of fear as he has continued to threaten and intimidate her in any way he can. He is her legal guardian, of course, and she has never been able to find a way to leave him.”

  Charles did not want to hear her words, but something inside him grew restless, prodding him to listen closely. He kept silent, keeping his own counsel as Suzanne continued.

  “The reason Gerald told you those awful things, Charles, is because he wants a worthless piece of land that Martha owns.”

  “If that were true, why wouldn’t she just sign it over?” asked Charles.

  “Because,” said Suzanne, “Gerald took everything from Martha. It is the last thing she has from her father, and she can’t bear to give it up. He has beat her and withheld basic living necessities from her. Gerald is an evil man.”

  “How can you be sure?” Charles whispered, with his voice trembling.

  Suzanne smiled sympathetically, tears filling her eyes.

  “She told me…and I have seen the bruises. It’s been her burden since her father’s death, but since she was in mourning for her stepmother, and then for her father, she has not been able to mix with society and find aid for herself.”

  “You mean someone to marry her,” Matthew said, stating the obvious.

  "Yes," Suzanne replied, getting to her feet and coming to kneel before Charles. "That's why she was so happy when she met you, Charles. For the first time in her life, she thought she might have found a possible savior. And, she was falling in love with you.”

  Charles stared at Suzanne, feeling her warm hand take his ice cold one. He felt a shaking in his limbs, a mixture of horror and disgrace running through him as he realized how easily he had been taken in by Lord Crewe. She had loved him. Shame filled him as he realized how he had let her down.

  “He hit her last night,” Suzanne continued, a single tear making its way down her cheek. “The side of her face is a little bruised this morning. I wanted to let you know, so her appearance does not shock you.”

  Charles closed his eyes, lowering his head to his hands. He felt sick. He remembered the red marks on Martha’s neck the first time he had called on her, and something akin to rage filled him.

  “I must go after Lord Crewe and defend Martha,” he growled, getting to his feet, knocking Suzanne to the floor.

  “No, Charles, you can’t,” Matthew shouted, reaching out a hand and grabbing the back of his coat.

  “Why ever not?” Charles roared, his face red. “After what he’s done to her, the man deserves the grave!”

  “No one disagrees with that,” Suzanne said. “But think of the consequences, Charles. I know you are angry, but think carefully for a moment.”

  His chest heaving, Charles ran a hand through his hair, knowing deep down that she spoke sense. Ending up hanged himself would not solve anything.

  “What can I do?” he asked, wringing his hands and desperation on his face. “I have to save her.”

  Suzanne smiled then, a gentle and happy smile that lit her features.

  “Charles,” she said, soothingly. “There is one thing you can do that will protect Martha for the rest of her life.”

  There was a long pause as Charles stared at her, realizing what she meant.

  "Do you think
she will have me?" he whispered.

  “Why not ask her?” Suzanne replied. “She is staying with us here.”

  “She’s here?” Charles cried, running to the door and throwing it open. “I must find her!”

  He took to the stairs two at a time, calling her name.

  “Will he be all right?” Suzanne asked, turning to Matthew.

  Matthew grinned. “I think he will be more than all right,” he said, reaching out a hand and pulling her close to him. “You did very well, my dear.”

  11

  Martha stared at herself in the mirror, barely recognizing herself. She pushed back her unbound hair, staring at the bruise that marred the side of her face. Gerald had hit her hard. Her face was pale, her eyes dull. Even though she knew that thanks to Suzanne and her family's help she would be able to hide from Gerald for now, her heart was sore. It ached. It ached for Charles, and there was no balm for that kind of pain.

  “Martha? Martha?”

  Starting with surprise, Martha got to her feet, hastening to the door.

  “Charles?”

  “Oh, Martha!”

  Catching her up in his arms, Charles buried his face in her neck, weeping unashamed tears as he held her close.

  “I am utterly ashamed of myself! Please, please, I beg your forgiveness!”

  Hardly able to breathe, Martha clung to him, never wanting to let him go. “Charles?” she whispered, barely able to believe he was here.

  “Martha,” he said again, pulling back to look into her face. “Dear Martha, can you ever forgive me?”

  She cried at his words, tears of happiness and relief flowing down her cheeks. She cradled his face with her hands.

  “Of course I do,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his cheek.

  Charles breathed her in, moving his lips closer to her own. His kiss was strong and fierce, speaking to her of possession and love. She melted into him, wanting to be a part of him, to have him with her always. He was her soulmate, and with him beside her, she felt whole.