A Regency Christmas Pact Collection

by Ava Stone

  The shock of everything must finally be getting to her. The concern tinged with what appeared to be pity in Lord Edgeworth’s eyes made her heart pound anew. She had to hurry through this explanation and be done with it. “My father left me a good deal of money in his will and also named me the inheritor of his theatre.” She could still hardly believe it. Her father had never done anything nice for her when he was living. She’d acquired her love of the theatre from the actors and actresses around him. He’d never lived for the stage, the costumes or the excitement as she did.

  Lord Edgeworth studied her as if he was trying to decide exactly what to say. “I’m glad to hear he obviously recognized the error of his ways and strove to make amends.”

  Resting her arms on the bar, Lillian let out a disgruntled sigh. They’d be here all night if the conversation stayed as polite as this. She needed to get back to the theatre. Tomorrow was opening day for Macbeth. “He wasn’t trying to make amends, as you so civilly suggested.”

  Lord Edgeworth’s eyebrows shot up. “Forgive me. I forgot we were speaking bluntly. I’m used to conversing with women who like to dance around the truth, so I automatically begin the waltz.” He surprised her by touching his fingertips to her hand. The contact of his warm skin against hers sent a tremor through her body. Not caring what he would think, she jerked away.

  A sardonic smile tilted his lips, which pushed away her unease and riled her temper. “Are you laughing at me?” Her tone was sharp.

  “No, my dear.” His words held self-recrimination. “I’m laughing at myself. I’m normally the one retreating from women and it’s unusual to find myself in a reversed position. Please forgive me. Again.”

  Her anger dissipated under his pleading gaze. She hadn’t expected to like Lord Edgeworth, but in truth she found him friendly. And fascinating. The realization disturbed her. “You’re forgiven,” she said tartly, hoping to steer them back to topic. When Lord Edgeworth smiled wolfishly, her heart gave a funny little jerk that concerned her even more She folded her hands in her lap and willed herself to concentrate. “My father kept the theatre because it put him in the position of controlling people, and he loved nothing better than control. So you see, he wasn’t making some grand gesture of restitution from his grave. He left me the money and the theatre to control me, from beyond.”

  Lord Edgeworth frowned. “How can he control you now?”

  “The only way I can inherit the money and the theatre is if I marry a lord.”

  Lord Edgeworth’s gaze moved across her face, slipped lower to her chest for the briefest of seconds―but not so quick her face didn’t heat―and then his mocking gaze met hers once again. “I don’t think you’ll have any problem finding a lord who wishes to marry you. You appear to have a great many attributes to recommend you.”

  Lillian pressed her lips together. Charlotte had said he’d resist. That he not only blamed himself for his friend’s injury but also for the death of some woman and had therefore decided he was unworthy to ever be any woman’s husband. How a man who looked like he did and came from the powerful family he hailed from could feel anything but superior baffled her. Lillian leaned towards him, desiring as much privacy as possible. “The problem is not an offer of marriage from a lord. I’ve already received one, but he’s known for a penchant towards abusing women.”

  Lord Edgeworth’s face set in an expression of fury, and then his lips pressed together in a hard line. “I could have the same proclivity.”

  She snorted, thinking of the story of his friend he’d just told her, and the pain in his voice. “I feel sure you don’t.”

  He frowned. “You don’t even know me.”

  “You’re not a stranger to me, in the strictest meaning,” she admitted with reluctance.

  “Explain yourself.” Animosity tinged his voice.

  Lillian took a deep breath and prayed her words did not anger him. “Your cousin’s wife, Charlotte, told me about you and your past when I confessed my dilemma to her.”

  “You don’t say.” His gaze turned chilly, his tone even cooler. “Apparently, Lady Hardwick needs to be reminded how much I value my privacy.”

  This was not an auspicious start. Not at all. “She only told me of you because she thought we might be able to help each other. She knows neither of us wants to marry, yet we are both being forced to submit to the detestable state. Charlotte believes we could settle on a marriage of convenience.” She paused and studied him to make sure he still listened. He’d turned his gaze to his glass and was sloshing the liquid around the rim. After a moment, he glanced up, his eyes devoid of emotion.

  “Unless you can promise you won’t expect any sort of emotional attachment from your husband, then I’m sorry to tell you Charlotte is wrong. There can be no arrangement between us.”

  He thought he was so clever. Lillian smiled and was rewarded by a brief look of astonishment from Lord Edgeworth. She patted his arm to further unsettle him. “I’m glad to hear we can come to an arrangement.”

  “What?” The man’s jaw dropped open.

  Somehow she managed to suppress her laugher. “It’s simple. I have one week left to marry a titled gentleman or my money and theatre go to Mr. Scotsby, the owner of The Royal Theatre, who was and is our biggest competition. I’m sure my father did this to force my hand. He always wanted me to marry a rich, decrepit, easily manipulated, childless, titled lord who was on his deathbed, so we could get all the lord’s money when he died. I refused to do it. Father never forgave me, and he never forgot to punish me for being disobedient. This was his last and final punishment. He thought I’d not marry in a month’s time, therefore Mr. Scotsby would get the theatre and disperse me and my father’s small but loyal staff. Mr. Scotsby won’t want us to stay, because he hated my father and therefore all of us.”

  Tension knotted her shoulders and her head pounded. She rubbed her temples with a sigh. “I grew up in the theatre. It’s my home. I have no family now that my father is gone and the people at the theatre are like my family. They count on me. Many of them are old and will never be offered another position. They could become homeless. I cannot let them down.”

  “That’s awful.”

  His shocked tone swelled her heart with hope. “If worse comes to worse I’ll marry the lord who offered for me.” She couldn’t repress the small shudder that ran though her. Embarrassed to appear weak, she glanced down and forced herself to continue. “I’d rather marry you. Charlotte says you’re kind.”

  “Many lords are kind.”

  His emotionless tone didn’t surprise her, given what Charlotte had confided. She ran a finger back and forth over the dented, dull wood. “Yes, but I require a husband who will let me go my separate way, as if we were never married. Someone who would only wed me in order to avoid being forced by their family to align themselves with a woman who’d likely desire love and affection. If you marry me, all I desire is your name.”

  His strong grip on her arms startled her. Fear tried to take hold, but she fought against it. She looked up as he slowly turned her on the stool to face him.

  “What if I desire more from you?” The question slid like silk from his lips.

  No doubt he meant to scare her. She’d thought he might say such a thing. Staring, she forced herself to speak. “I’ll submit to you in bed. But I don’t want a child. You’d have to vow to use preventative measures.”

  He tightened his grip. Not painfully, but she hated being clutched by any man. “Please let me go.” She tried to unclench her teeth, but as long as he held her so, it was useless.

  He released her at once with a hiss of breath and yanked his hands through his hair. “I take it you’ve been with other men to know that there are ways to avoid conceiving a child.”

  She nodded, feeling very much dead inside, like a puppet whose strings were being pulled. She’d hoped not to reveal the nastiest parts of her life, but it appeared she had no choice. “My father, as I said, was cruel. The theatre was bankrupt when I w
as eighteen. He told me we were all going to be homeless unless I slept with a wealthy older patron who wanted my favors in exchange for saving the theatre.” Her lips trembled as she spoke, from humiliation brought on by the memory. “I resisted at first, but then Father started dismissing people and not paying the actors and actresses. An older seamstress there was like a mother to me, and one night I heard her crying because she didn’t have the money to pay her rent. It was December and snowing. I couldn’t allow her to be put out on the streets.”

  Lillian swallowed hard, her stomach twisting with the painful memory of her father’s cruelty. “That night and for seven nights after, I slept with the man and collected enough money to pay all the people my father owed, save the theatre and give Beatrice, the seamstress, enough money to retire on. Father, thank God, hired a reputable accountant to manage the money. I vowed to him no matter how much it would pain me to leave the theatre I would do so before ever playing whore again.”

  Lord Edgeworth stared at her without speaking. His face had gone white and sweat ran down his brow. Worry turned her stomach. After a moment, he blinked and cupped her face.

  “Lord Edgeworth?” She shot a gaze around the room, but no one paid them any mind.

  “Two things.” He spoke softly, a steely thread beneath his noble accent.

  Did he mean two things and he’d agree? His warm hands against her cheeks were oddly comforting and did not make her feel threatened as she usually felt when a man touched her. Her heart nearly burst from her chest. “Yes?”

  “No one could ever force me to marry anyone. Do you understand?”

  She did, and she liked him even more for it. He was a man who would rather be penniless than submit to the demands of others. If she only had herself to consider, she’d be the sort of woman who had uncompromising principles like he did. “I understand perfectly.”

  “Good.” His tone had gentled. “I’ll marry you on the condition you tell me the name of the patron who bought your favors.”

  She would have pulled away, but Lord Edgeworth moved swiftly and gripped her arms. He brought his face mere inches from hers. His right temple beat furiously. “It’s my right to know who had my wife before I did.”

  Lillian frowned. He had a point, but he sounded too angry. She didn’t want him doing anything stupid, such as calling Lord Derwent out.

  Lord Edgeworth’s gaze bored into hers. “It’s about honor. I simply would rather know and be aware of who he is.” His tone was steady, the anger seemingly gone.

  “You’re sure you just want to know his name?” She was almost afraid to hope this marriage was going to work out.

  He nodded as he released her. “Positive. I’d rather not lose all my money, and you’ve just offered me the perfect solution. A wife who wants separate lives but is willing to offer conjugal relations so long as I take steps to ensure I don’t get you with child. It’s the best luck I’ve had in years.” He sounded chipper. “My mother, and more importantly my grandfather, will be satisfied and unable to complain. I’ll keep my money and you and I can live separately. Many a bachelor’s fantasy, I assure you. Thank you for seeking me out.”

  Her heart raced. “I forgot to mention I’d need you to stipulate in the marriage settlement that the money from my father and the theatre are mine to do with as I wish. Not yours. I know the law.”

  He waved a hand in dismissal. “Absolutely not a problem, my dear. I’ll have my solicitor draw up the paperwork immediately, so you can view it before we’re married.” He smiled slowly. “Do we have an agreement?”

  Disbelief seized her and nearly stole her ability to speak. She was going to marry, and not only that, she was going to wed a man she’d known for less than an hour. She squared her shoulders and held out a hand. “We do.”

  He glanced from her hand to her face and then brushed his lips across her knuckles. “I’ll have the man’s name now, if you please.”

  Dazed from the tingles his lips caused throughout her body, she swallowed and gently pulled her hand away. Leaning towards him, she whispered, “His name is Lord Derwent. He’s the lord who bought my favors and recently offered me marriage. The one I told you had a penchant for cruelty. Do you know him?”

  He locked his gaze on her, piercing her to her soul. Never had anyone given her a protective look, let alone a fiercely protective one. An odd thrill ran through her. Silly nitwit. She didn’t want him to care about defending her. “You did only want this for information, correct?”

  He gave her a distracted nod that didn’t make her feel a bit better.

  “Lord Edgeworth.”

  Looking past her, he snapped his fingers, stood and held a hand out to her. She took it, only just noticing how large his was. He wrapped his fingers around hers and squeezed. “My driver will see you home. I’ll call on you tomorrow to work out the details of the wedding.” A man dressed in gold livery came up behind Lord Edgeworth. Lillian stiffened. She didn’t want Lord Edgeworth to think he could ever dictate what she did, and if he wasn’t as true to his word as Charlotte believed, Lillian couldn’t risk being trapped for life with another man legally able to control her actions.

  She notched up her chin, silly given that he towered over her. “I’ll see myself home.”

  He studied her for a silent moment. Finally, he shrugged. “As you wish. I’ll never command you to do anything.”

  “On your honor?” Her question was hushed.

  “On my honor.” His lips twisted into an ironic smile. “Though I’m obligated as a supposed gentleman to tell you, you should demand a different guarantee from me. I misplaced my honor long ago.”

  “I think not.” She wrapped her hands around her waist to hide their trembling. Being near him made her feel funny―lightheaded and rather discomfited. He was exactly as Charlotte had promised, bless her dear friend. “Any man who’d admit such a thing has exactly as much honor as I require.” Before he could say anything to make her like him more, she brushed past him, hurried through the tavern and out the door into the cold night.

  As the wind gusted, she pulled her coat tight under her chin and strode to the hackney she’d hired. On the ride to her townhome, she made a mental list of what she needed to do tomorrow, and then turned her thoughts to her future husband. Recalling his beautiful green eyes and wolfish smile, she experienced the same odd thrill as earlier. She scowled into the darkness. The less time they spent together, the better. She suspected she could grow to like him and that frightened her a great deal.

  The next morning around the time most reasonable men were climbing out of their warm, comfortable beds, Nick stood in the foggy, damp green of Hamstead Heath as Blakely, his second, loaded the pistol Derwent’s man had delivered for the duel. Nick followed Blakely’s actions to guarantee a step wasn’t missed. He’d hoped Salisbury, his closest friend, would be his second. Nick had sent word to him last night with the request, but when he hadn’t received the immediate response he needed to set things in motion he’d asked Blakely to stand in. The barkeep had proven he could keep a secret, and Nick preferred not to burden Drew, who was the only other person Nick would trust with this. With Charlotte expecting soon, Drew had enough on his mind.

  “You ever killed a man?” Blakely asked as he ran a finger down the length of the pistol.

  “I don’t intend to end Derwent’s pathetic life. Just maim him permanently. But if an infection does kill him, I won’t lose any sleep over it. If he lives, he’ll walk with a limp and never sit a horse again. A dire punishment for an avid hunter like Derwent. His pain will eat at him day after day, and he’ll wish he’d never dishonored my wife.”

  Blakely went slack-jawed. “I didn’t know you were married. I thought you said this duel was over the chit from last night.”

  Nick chuckled, his breath coming out in a white ring of air in front of him. Once it dissipated he spoke. “I’m not married. Yet. But I will be in two days if all goes according to plan. And this duel is over the chit from last night.”


  “Wedding of necessity, huh?”

  Nick frowned. He’d never met a woman in more need of protection than the beautiful and bold Lillian Lancaster, so, yes, it was a necessary wedding, but not in the way Blakely meant.

  Blakely gave him a knowing, cheeky grin. “I’d not thought that dark-headed dolly from the pub capable of being cajoled into a bed, especially before a right an’ proper wedding. From a distance she appeared stiff as the stick of my broom handle. Beautiful, but in an unapproachable sort of way, if you know what I mean.”

  Nick resisted the urge to punch Blakely in the face. Instead, he inhaled slowly and reined in his temper. “I like you, Blakely.”

  The barkeep started to speak, so Nick held up a silencing hand. “My fondness for the way you pour a drink, never ask me about my life―which, by the by, is why I asked you to be my second―doesn’t mean I won’t plant you a facer if you ever make unseemly insinuations about my wife-to-be again.” He leaned towards the man, allowing his height and size to help make his point. “Are we clear?”

  Blakely tossed his hair out of his eyes, his eyebrows furrowing. “As a cloudless day. Lewd jokes ended. Here you are.” Blakely handed the pistol to Nick. “Satisfied?”

  Nick turned the weapon over, the touch of the cold metal making his chest tighten in anticipation. “You can notify Derwent’s second.”

  Blakely raised a hand, gave the signal they’d agreed upon and moved well out of the line of fire. Across the field, Derwent’s second did the same. The call for the duel to begin pierced through the roar of blood in his ears and made him flinch.

  He whipped his pistol up a second later than he would have liked and fired. The recoil made his right arm jerk. Damn and hell. Derwent’s pistol was raised straight and true. A thousand thoughts flew across Nick’s mind. The last―had Derwent already fired―ceased to require an answer as a bullet sliced over Nick’s skin.