by Julia Donner
He captured her wrists. “Blast it, you know I’m not good enough for you!”
She abruptly stood, and he stepped back to avoid her nearness. When she felt him readying to escape, she pressed against him. “I know no such thing! And right now we will dispense, for once and for all, with this facade you’ve created to hold your true self hostage. Harry, look at me.”
When he released her wrists and glared out the window, she said, “Very well, then. Don’t. But you will stand here and you will listen.”
She reached up and captured his chin. He allowed that but kept his eyes closed while she spoke. “This is what I’ve heard. Sir Harry Collyns is the randiest fellow about town. He usually keeps a dozen mistresses to satisfy his gluttony for female amusement. He gambles everywhere, flirts with everyone, is adored and envied, and generally lives a life of perfected dissipation.”
He firmed his lips into a tight line when she concluded, “Oh, and everyone has pretty much accepted the fact that the Wethermore heir is Harry’s son.”
When he started to move, she clutched his sleeve and pressed her breasts into his chest. She finally found a purpose for her too large bosom.
“Now, you will listen to what I recently discovered and consider reliable.”
He swallowed and stared out the window. She saw it all in the bleakness of his expression, his preparation for hearing the worst. Shamefully, she had thought the worst of him, but no more. With his grace, he’d taught her the meaning of forbearance and loyalty. She relaxed and rested her cheek on his chest, following his gaze on the garden but not really seeing the withered plants neatly tied up for winter.
“Five years ago, you won a sugar plantation at cards and went to the Caribbean to see for yourself how it was. You found slaves slashed to pieces from cane fronds and whippings. You sent off the overseers and ran the plantation yourself for a year. In that year, you promised each worker freedom, a plot of land or a portion of the profits. It is now the most productive plantation in the Caribbean. You bought two others and freed the workers on those.”
Tears gleamed in his eyes, muscles bunched along his jaw as he resolutely stared out the window. “Oh, Harry, you expected to hear bad things, didn’t you? Well, sir, you will stand here while I explain a few things, especially how wrong I was to not believe in what I knew for the truth in my heart.”
She lifted up her head to watch his face and wait for his closed expression to change. “It’s a great joke, you know and bandied all over town about your many mistresses. With Crimm’s help, I found out their names and their addresses and went to visit them. Don’t look so shocked. I dressed plainly, none of them suspected our connection. How did you discover these destitute females?”
“It is not my place to discuss the circumstances of others.”
“And that is another odd bit that I discovered. Everyone talks the most appalling drivel about you, but I’ve never heard you say an unkind word about anyone. Other than Quentin.”
“Who deserves it,” he muttered.
She had to stop herself from thinking he looked kissable when he pouted and couldn’t let her heart go soft. It wasn’t the right time for that. She needed to stay stern and on track with her objective.
Adopting an airy attitude, she tossed out, “I also had a chat with Lady Ravenswold. She’s the one who told me that she’s always noticed how people say the most horrid gossip to you, but that you never join in or agree. Merely listen or change the subject. She also threatened me with physical violence if I didn’t stop torturing you. Her word, not mine. I gave her leave to do her will if I didn’t succeed with you today. But I will succeed. If you do not listen to reason, you’ve taught me other ways to bring you to heel.”
When he glanced at her mouth, she smiled. “Yes. Exactly that. I’ve lost all sense of reticence or modesty when it comes to you. I will do what I must. But in a little while. I’m not yet done confessing my sins.”
“Stop it, Olivia. You have no—”
She cut him off with an admonishing jerk on his sleeve. “Be quiet, Harry. Allow me to tell you how sorry I am. I let you down in the worst possible way. True love means that you should never have to make explanations to me. I never should have doubted you. Lady Asterly made plain my self-righteousness. Threw it directly into my face. She correctly pointed out that I talk a good show, but unlike you, I do nothing about all my lofty ideals.”
“I wish you would stop making me sound perfect.”
“Oh, you’re not perfect. I like that about you, too. From your brother I learned that you wanted to enter the clergy until a priest, a mean-spirited idiot if you ask me, called you too pretty. He gave in to jealousy’s mischief and broke a young lad’s tender heart by mocking your calling. So you decided to prove him right, perverse child that you are…were.”
When he pinched his lips into a line and refused to respond, she continued to prod. “Then, your brother went to war and you had no choice but to do what had to be done. You were left to care for your mother and there was no money. You went to London, gambled and won a great deal. You inherited a bit and invested all of it wisely. You appeased your boredom and kept your charities secret by creating a plausible diversion. You became a fashionable fribble.”
She watched him move from pressing lips together to clenching his teeth. She had him close to breaking. It was time to introduce a more sensitive subject.
“Your game became an unfortunate habit over time. No one ever suspected that you were mocking the station that mocked you, not even your brother. You tried to help him financially, but he refused. There was a terrible row and a falling out, a wound that has yet to fully heal. But it will. I’m very good at healing wounds. Aren’t I?”
He nodded and whispered, “Yes, I believe that.”
“No more pretending, Harry. Somehow the game got out of hand and took over your life. What you’re doing is not seemly to your soul. Are you listening?”
He broke, hunching his shoulders and turning away. “I can’t live with the idea of you with that lout your grandfather prefers.”
She tugged on his arm. “You are so stubborn and haven’t been listening.”
He kept his head bowed, refusing to look at her. She smoothed back his curls and ran a fingertip over the silvery scar that ran down his cheek. “My grandfather insisted on Quentin because of his wealth. He doesn’t actually care for the man. I can win him over.”
“Olivia, I don’t want you to lose connection with your family. Your father won’t even look at me.”
“It’s because he’s ashamed. And I suspect, envious. Don’t look so incredulous! It’s true. Father is too proud to admit his error in judging you so harshly, especially after I told him about the orphanage.”
“What orphanage?”
“Stop this, Harry. You have charities everywhere. No one is allowed to know you are the benefactor. You’ve made them promise secrecy.”
“Then how can you know it’s the truth?”
“Oh, you obstinate creature! Why can’t you simply accept that you’re a marvelous man and I’m the one that is flawed?”
He stubbornly looked out the window. “Utter nonsense. You’ll always be perfect in my estimation.”
“I might have one time agreed, had not Lady Asterly hit me over the head with my cowardice and self-righteousness, but I am a fraud, just like you. Look at my smile. The pathos in my eyes.” She demonstrated when he peered at her from under his lashes. When he tried to stop a smile at her woebegone expression, she grinned. “Impressive, isn’t it? I do this face and everyone believes anything I say. I’m a minister’s child. They assume I must be holy or anointed or something. People never stop to think to not trust me. They tell me everything.”
“Everything,” he flatly repeated.
“Such as the fact that more than half of your so-called light skirts are unwed mothers with children to support. I told you that I visited them. I doubt any of them would recognize you if you passed them on the street. They are pa
id through a solicitor.”
“Olivia, you haven’t stopped to consider that much of the gossip about me is true.”
“I don’t care if it is. And I don’t care if you give away all you own to those in need. It wouldn’t surprise me if you did.”
“There’s no worry of that. I’m disgracefully rich. You’re surprised?”
“Well, not entirely. Mostly by the thought that you have anything left. You’ve given away masses of money. Grandfather has no idea.” A bubble of laughter spilled out. “Oh, please tell me you have more in the funds than Quentin. I should love to rub Grandfather’s nose in that.”
Harry ruefully smiled. “I’m almost as plump in the pocket as Lizzie.”
A shadow of sadness came and went in his eyes, and she asked, “What is it?”
“I should confess that I share the fault of giving up too easily. It’s pathetic, I know, but the truth is that I’ve always felt intimidated by those you loved before me.”
Confused, she asked, “What are you talking about?”
“Your husband was something of a martyr, a real one, and then there was your first love. Your expression when you talked about him. So soft and sad. How can I compete with those memories?”
The irony of his confession briefly stole her ability to think or speak. It took her a moment to gather her thoughts and sternly reminded herself to not smile.
“Harry, you are my first love, and one of the reasons I was drawn to Percy. He reminded me of you, what I imagined you would be like when you grew up.”
“I am? How can that be?”
“I was twelve and visiting with my Aunt Charlotte. My sash got caught—”
“Lady Charlotte’s shy niece? That was you?” His grin slowly faded. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the window, exhaling a long, defeated sigh.
Do not smile. She kept repeating that as she tugged on his neckwear. “Harry, I don’t care that you were one of Aunt Charlotte’s lovers. That was long ago. All we need to know or care about is now. Listen to me. This is important.”
When he looked at her, she scowled. “No sad, puppy eyes. This is a happy time. Now listen closely. I will never, ever again doubt you. Whatever you say or ask, or want me to do, I will. With complete trust. No questions asked. I vow it. Do you believe me?”
He blinked his eyes to cover the emotional response her promises had wrought. She hadn’t realized how much he wanted to hear that from her. When he nodded, she used her begging expression, while gliding her fingertips over his vest and down. He inhaled when she twisted free a trouser button.
She stood on tip-toe and whispered against his mouth, “Three favors, please.”
His gaze burned a fierce blue. “What ever you wish, Livie.”
“First, I’ve spent my life doing the responsible thing. You’ve spent a large part of your life pretending to be silly. I’m fed to the teeth with being cautious and respectable. From now on, I want you to be the responsible one and I want to be silly.”
“I can do that. I rather like the thought of being dull. But might I push the boundaries of monotony on occasion?”
“Absolutely. And you will start by wearing spectacles!”
He blinked, then laughed and gathered her close. She lifted her face, feeling like a flower reaching for the sunlight, as he covered her with hungry kisses.
“Oh, Harry, how I love it when you kiss me like this. I feel positively devoured. Don’t stop.”
“I’m dying to love you, crawl right inside of you and never leave.” He nipped her chin and pressed his hand over the mound when their baby nestled. “How is she?”
“He. No more sickness in the morning. Can’t stop eating. Sleeping half the day away.”
“Excellent. I love naps. We can do that together. You mentioned another favor.”
She nodded. This one wasn’t as easy to ask. It helped that he now smiled down at her with the adoration she needed so much—had been without for what seemed like forever. She fiddled with the top fastening on his waistcoat. Popped free the mother of pearl button and started on the next one down. “Ah, it’s a bit embarrassing.”
“Livie, how can you be embarrassed about anything around me. I told you that you’re perfect in my eyes. Ask me.”
“Remember how you once promised to make me howl like a banshee?” She peeked up at his astonished expression. “Could you do that again?”
She squeaked when he swept her up in his arms, kicked the chair out of his way, and strode across the room. He used the hand under her knees to pull open the door, his shoulder to push it wider, and merrily demanded to the stunned housekeeper waiting in the hallway, “Absolutely no more visitors, Mrs. Brinkley.”
Flustered, Mrs. Brinkley scurried after them up the hallway. “Has the lady taken ill? Is there anything I can do, sir?”
Olivia smothered a laugh behind her hand and snuggled deeper into his arms. She thrilled at his easy strength as he strode to the staircase.
“Indeed, Mrs. Brinkley, there is. I don’t want to be disturbed.”
“Certainly, sir.”
“For any reason.” Harry paused on the steps to happily inform his worried housekeeper, “No need to blush, ma’am. This is the future Lady Collyns.”
Over his shoulder, Olivia winked at the housekeeper. Mrs. Brinkley clasped her hands to her bosom. Her round face beamed. “Oh, congratulations, sir! I’m so delighted for you, ma’am, I mean, m’lady!”
Olivia waved and tried to look contrite as Harry took the steps two at a time. “Perhaps we’ll meet properly. But later, Mrs. Brinkley!”
When he reached the top of the steps, Harry called out, “Don’t expect to hear from us until tomorrow.”
Olivia giggled like a schoolgirl and pulled an arm free to wrap around his shoulder. Tickling his perfectly shaped ear with her nose, she said as silly as she could be, “Oh, Harrikins!”
Dear Reader:
If you liked this book, please consider writing a review, and check out the excerpt for THE DUCHESS AND THE DUELIST, fourth book in the Friendship Series, which follows this list of titles.
Writing Historical Fiction as Julia Donner
The Friendship series
THE TIGRESSE AND THE RAVEN
THE HEIRESS AND THE SPY
THE RAKE AND THE BISHOP’S DAUGHTER
THE DUCHESS AND THE DUELIST (2015)
THE EARL AND THE RUNAWAY (2015)
Fantasy by M.L.Rigdon
Seasons of Time trilogy
PROPHECY DENIED
BEYOND THE DARK MOUNTAINS
HER QUEST FOR THE LANCE
Contemporary
THE ATLANTIS CRYSTAL (A Philadelphia Hafeldt novel)
SEDUCTIVE MINES (Another Philadelphia Hafeldt adventure)
NEVER LET ME DIE (Romantic suspense with paranormal elements)
YA Fantasy
Songs of Atlantis series
THE VITAL
MASTER OF THE DARK
CANTICLE OF DESTRUCTION (Spring 2015)
INTO THE EAST (Fall 2015)
THE DUCHESS AND THE DUELIST
Friendship Series Book 4
Asterly House
Cavendish Square, London
Winter 1819
Evangeline Merrick hesitated before descending the staircase. She needed another moment to remind herself that she could maintain her secret, the cloaking of her identity. For over twelve, nerve-wrenching years she’d been successful in the heart of a society where everyone knew everyone, including their family connections and relative worth. No one paid attention to a servant, and that was what she’d chosen to become, a dresser to Lady Asterly.
Unable to decline her ladyship, who possessed a quietly forceful nature, Evangeline had been catapulted beyond the servant class to become companion. In doing so, her generous patroness had unknowingly pushed Evangeline to the edge of her worst fear—the discovery of her real name and origins.
The greatest difficulty for navigating this evening’s social minefi
eld waited at the base of the stairs. The Honorable Alfred Bates smiled up at her, a knowing grin of challenge—the same expression he’d worn a month before, when he’d flirted and teased her throughout dinner.
She suspected he knew that Lady Asterly’s companion was someone and something other than whom she pretended to be. And he was right. She and Mr. Bates had met many years before, but did he remember? If he did remember, would he reveal what she must, at any cost, keep hidden?
Recent events created another complication. This morning, a measles scare erupted in the houses on Cavendish Square. Lord and Lady Asterly immediately got into a traveling coach with their toddler twins and drove to Marshfield in Kent. Lady Asterly would stay there with the children until the disease had run its course in town, while Lord Asterly returned to London to attend parliamentary sessions. He wouldn’t arrive back in town in time to welcome his newly married brother, Sir Harry and his bride, Lady Collyns. Immediately after their wedding, they’d escaped to Rolands, Harry’s estate in Kent. The happy couple were driving up from Rolands directly to Asterly House before readying to set sail for Italy the following week. The task of greeting and entertaining the newlyweds unexpectedly fell to Evangeline.
It never occurred to her to refuse her patroness, but it did have her worrying about Mr. Bates. He hadn’t been shy with his attentions the last time he’d been here and made his objective clear by usurping the chair next to hers at the informal dinner. If not for the forbidding looks laid on him from her dear friend, Olivia, and Lady Asterly, his persuasiveness would have overwhelmed Evangeline’s fears. But he had relented under their combined visual chastisements.
Mr. Bates started up the staircase to escort her down. From the look on his face, he had every intention to continue his pursuit. Her heart began to pound. She tried to calm her breathing to hide the anxious trembling. It felt so odd and confusing, to experience fear and excitement at the same time. His reputation and the glint in his eyes created a melting sensation while filling her with the urge to flee.
