by Cheryl Holt
Bastard! she wailed.
Where was Holden? She needed him to intervene on her behalf. The cowardly servants wouldn’t, but Holden would save her.
“In the meantime,” James said, “I’ll just remove your necklace and earrings. Cartwright stole them from Miss Boyle, and I’m certain she’d like to have them back.”
No! No! They’re mine! You can’t have them!
“Did you realize he’d taken them from Miss Boyle?” James fumbled with the clasp and jerked the necklace away. “That’s how pathetic your life has become, Brinley. You’re wearing my fiancée’s pilfered jewelry. You really ought to start making better choices.”
He yanked her to her feet, and she was dizzy and off balance, looking at the door, trying to deduce how to wiggle free and dash out, but also trying to untangle his comment about Miss Boyle. He was engaged to her? She was his fiancée?
Brinley must have misheard. He was Earl of Denby, and Miss Boyle was no one at all. He couldn’t enter into such a paltry match! How could Brinley stop him?
“Now then,” he said, “let’s find a room—preferably one with no window you can climb out of—where I can hide you from civilized people until I have a moment to transport you to Scotland. Prior to our departure, I have to attend my wedding, but you’ll be on your way very soon.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Are you ready?”
“Yes, I’m ready.”
Amelia grinned at Victoria and squeezed her hands. They were standing in the vestibule of the church in Denby village, waiting for her wedding to commence.
Once prior, she’d dressed for her wedding, but she’d been jilted by a rogue who’d turned out to be quite a despicable criminal.
It was strange how Fate could arrange a woman’s affairs. If Holden Cartwright had arrived that day, if he’d whisked her off to Scotland and had married her as she’d expected, she’d never have traveled to Gibraltar. She wouldn’t have stumbled on James. She wouldn’t be marrying him now.
“How about you?” Victoria asked Laura. “Are you ready too?”
“I’ve been ready for this ever since we first met James.”
“You couldn’t have been,” Victoria said.
“In Gibraltar, didn’t you ever notice how he looked at her?”
“Well, now that you mention it, yes, I noticed. He was extremely besotted—even at the very beginning.”
“When will we start?” Laura asked, anxious to get moving.
“As soon as James and the vicar walk out to the altar.”
To Amelia’s great delight, the church was full. With the help of Jo, Winnie, and Victoria, they’d put together a celebration in a week. They’d sent invitations to all the important neighbors and all of the Boyle relatives.
To her surprise, James had a slew of distant cousins too—cousins he didn’t claim—and they’d rounded up as many of them as could be located. A hoard of them was present too, the entire family eager to be introduced to the new earl.
After the ceremony was over, they would all head to the manor for an afternoon and evening of feasting, with a large and boisterous crowd that was excited to revel.
She was feeling inundated and pleased, and she couldn’t have organized a better party if she’d had a year to plan it.
Up at the front, a door opened, and the vicar emerged, James right behind him. James appeared particularly magnificent. Even though he’d resigned from the army, he’d worn his dress uniform for her. He’d shaved and trimmed his unruly hair. It was tied with a black ribbon.
He was handsome and dashing and wonderful, and he was about to be hers forever. The prospect made her weak in the knees.
“I guess he didn’t sneak out the back,” Evan muttered.
“Hush!” Amelia scolded. “You’re not going to be a pest this morning.”
“No, I’m not, and I’m actually thrilled that he’ll be your husband.”
“You are?” Amelia was astonished. Evan had been so grouchy about the whole affair.
“Laura isn’t the only one who’s noticed how he looks at you.” He winked at Laura, then said to Amelia, “I predict you will be very happy.”
Amelia grinned. “I predict I will be too.”
The organist began to play a hymn, and Laura asked, “Now?”
“Yes, now,” Victoria told her.
Laura strolled down the aisle, taking small steps in time to the music and dropping flowers along the way.
Amelia studied her, thinking how altered she was from when they’d initially sailed to Gibraltar. There was very little remaining of the troubled girl she’d been. She was pretty as a picture, as if she might be the daughter of rich, important parents, as if she might be the sister of an earl.
James had announced that—once matters settled down—he would file guardianship papers so she would become his ward. Laura had agreed to the idea, but she’d been terribly conflicted about telling Evan.
She was so grateful for Evan’s promise that she could reside with him until she grew up, and she hadn’t wanted to hurt his feelings. But James was her favorite person in the world, and in the end, she couldn’t resist.
It wasn’t as if she’d never see Evan again. He would be a regular visitor at Denby, and when he wasn’t with them, he would be at Benton, working as Peyton’s estate agent. Benton wasn’t that far from Denby. They could travel back and forth whenever one of them was missing the other.
Peyton’s nephew, Bobby Prescott, was their usher. He’d previously guided Peyton and Jo down to the front pew. He’d escorted Winnie and John down too. At Amelia’s request, Peyton and John had worn their uniforms as well, so they were adding a splash of color to the proceedings.
The four Prescott nieces—Jane, Daisy, Alice, and Nancy—were sitting in the pew behind the adults. Laura reached them and sat too, their blond heads bobbing like fetching flowers.
Victoria turned to Amelia and hugged her tightly, saying, “Dear sister, I’m so ecstatic for you.”
“I’m just glad you’re with me, that we can share this experience.”
“So am I.”
“I’ll be busy with my husband and my home,” Amelia said, “so you’ll have to watch over my brother for me.”
“I swear I always will.”
Victoria glanced longingly at Evan, and he leaned in and kissed her. They would marry in a few weeks, after they’d moved to Benton and were living in their new house.
Apparently, it would be an autumn of Boyle weddings. Who would have thought? The prior year had been so awful, but they’d wound up in perfect spots.
Victoria gave Amelia a final hug, then she marched down the aisle to the altar where she would stand with Amelia. Evan—appearing very grand in his uniform too—would stand with James.
She and her brother waited, quietly observing Victoria’s promenade.
“I wish Mother could have been here,” Amelia murmured to him.
“I’m certain she and Father are staring down from Heaven,” he said. “They’d have liked James.”
“Do you think so?”
“I know so.”
Amelia squeezed his hand.
“I’m so happy, Evan.”
“Not as happy as I am. I’m dumping you on a man who will take very good care of you. I don’t have to worry about you or him. I’m lucky you chose someone so steady and reliable, someone who obviously loves you.”
Then it was time to march down the aisle themselves. The organ music swelled. People were peeking over their shoulders, craning their necks, trying to catch a glimpse of the bride.
Evan extended his arm, and as she clasped hold, he said, “You look just like Mother in the portrait we have of her that was painted after her own wedding.”
“I always thought she was especially beautiful, so you couldn’t have paid me a nicer compliment.”
“I’m delighted that you were able to wear her pearls today.”
“I can�
�t believe James retrieved them for me.”
“It’s a sign of how devoted he’ll always be. It will be a blessing throughout your life with him.”
“I’m so relieved that’s your opinion.”
“Now let’s get you down to your husband. He’s quite impatient. If we delay any longer, I’m afraid he’ll stomp over and carry you off like a berserker.”
“I want to walk slowly,” she told him, “so I can remember every detail.”
“Yes, we’ll go slowly. I don’t mind a bit. I’m in no hurry to be shed of you.” He kissed her on the cheek. “After we arrive at the altar, things will never be the same between us.”
“They’ll always be the same,” she insisted. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’ll be a husband, and you’ll be a wife. It will be different.”
“Different, yes, but the same too.”
“Did I ever tell you,” he said, “that you’re the best sister any man ever had?”
“Stop being kind! Or you’ll have me weeping.”
“It’s all right if you weep. I feel like weeping too.”
They sauntered off, and they smiled and nodded at the guests. They dawdled as she’d requested, so it took an eternity to reach James, but then, it also seemed as if she reached him in a quick instant. Their gazes were locked, his potent attention drawing her to him.
Then—in a ritual as old as time—Evan placed her hand in James’s rather than his own.
James turned them toward the altar, and he whispered, “You’re glowing.”
“I’m so elated this morning. I can barely keep my feet on the ground, so I might just fly off into the sky.”
“I’ll keep a tight grip on you so you don’t drift away. You’re staying here with me. I’ll never let you go.”
She suffered a fleeting bout of bridal jitters. Was she doing the right thing? Was he? He’d never wanted to marry. What if he hated being a husband? What if he hated being a father? A farmer? If he wasn’t satisfied with his decision, remorse would kill her.
He noticed her fit of nerves and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Are you sure, James?”
“Cease your fretting, you silly goose! I’m very, very sure.”
“It’s your last chance to change your mind.”
“As if I would,” he huffed.
“Promise me you’ll never regret it.”
“I shouldn’t have to promise. You should just know.”
She stared into his eyes, and she saw love there, affection there. He would always protect and watch over her. She would always be safe and content by his side. He would make certain of it, and he would never disappoint her. Not for a single second.
The vicar opened his prayer book and inquired, “Who gives this woman in holy matrimony?”
“I am her brother,” Evan said, “and I give her.”
The vicar nodded gravely, and Evan stepped away. James faced Amelia and linked their fingers.
I love you, he mouthed.
I love you too.
The vicar began reading the words of the ceremony. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God…”
Amelia smiled at James, replied with James, sighed with James. She responded to all the questions with all the correct answers. And…?
When it was over, she was Lady Denby, was Countess of Denby, but mostly, she was Mrs. Captain James Hastings, and she had no doubt she would be happy forever.
EPILOGUE
Brinley stood in a quiet hall, the only sound the droning of voices in the chapel. She was holding a mop and was supposed to be scrubbing away on the floor. If she didn’t do what she was told, she was hit with sticks and sent to bed without supper—as if she were a naughty toddler.
James had claimed the convent was being run by a bunch of fanatics, and he hadn’t been joking or trying to scare her. They were a group of ugly old hags who spent their time chanting and working. If they had a moment to rest, they sniped and complained and stabbed each other in the back.
He’d personally delivered her after his wedding was over, and it was galling to admit she hadn’t been allowed to attend the event. He’d insisted she didn’t know how to behave in public, and he couldn’t risk that she’d have embarrassed herself or his guests.
He hadn’t even let her talk to Laura, hadn’t let her ask how her sister was faring or say goodbye to her. If she could have chatted privately with Laura, she was positive she could have coerced the insipid girl into helping her escape James’s clutches. But no visit had been permitted.
Brinley was convinced Laura would have begged to see her big sister, and she liked to imagine how devastated Laura must have been when no meeting was arranged. James could be so cruel.
He’d railed at her the entire trip to Scotland, telling her he was shielding the whole world from her antics. Throughout the journey, he’d kept her bound and gagged, so she’d had no option except to listen to his harangue. Every minute though, she’d been alert for an opportunity to sneak away, but none had appeared. He was too clever a jailor.
She couldn’t guess how much he’d paid the Mother Superior to incarcerate her, but she figured it was a substantial amount. Apparently, he’d told the annoying harpy that Brinley was a troublemaker and felon who could have been hanged. The Mother Superior swallowed down his despicable story, and she refused to consider Brinley’s side of the argument.
No, Brinley was simply whipped and denigrated and treated like a slave until she dropped into bed at night from exhaustion.
James had suggested she use the interval to repent her sins, that she let the nuns guide her to a better method of carrying on, but she thought they were naïve cows who didn’t know anything about real life or how to survive in it. It was why they were all hiding behind the convent’s thick gray walls.
He planned to come back once a year to check on her, to see if she was improving, and it was his intent that she be imprisoned until she was twenty-one. Then they’d discuss whether he’d free her or not. As if she’d stay for the next three years! He was such an idiot.
The hall was empty, the chanting growing louder as more women joined in the prayer vigil. Normally, she should have been in there too, but she was being punished for laziness by having to scrub extra floors. The nuns believed it was a penalty to miss any religious service, that a penitent would rather be in the chapel.
“Fat chance of that,” she muttered to herself.
She truly couldn’t abide such stupidity, and she hurried the other way, winding down several corridors and through a rear courtyard to an ancient gate. There was a huge chain and lock on it, but her father had taught her—when she was little—how to pick a lock.
It required but a minute of fussing. The lock fell open, and she stepped outside, breathing fresh air for the first time in two months. She hadn’t expected to remain that long, but the nuns were wily and cautious, and it had taken her an eternity to ascertain the best means and place for an escape.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out Holden’s bag of diamonds. During all the recent tumult, she’d managed not to lose them, even when those shrewish nuns had stripped her and stolen her clothes.
She’d filched them from him that last morning, having suspected he was about to desert her and realizing he wouldn’t go without his gems. He’d have had to skulk back to the manor, and she’d have returned the bag to him, would have laughed and advised him to be more careful in the future.
She wondered what had happened to him, just as she wondered if they might cross paths someday out in the great swindling universe. She hoped she wouldn’t though. He hadn’t been much of a partner.
She peered up at the sun, gauging directions in the dark woods, then she started walking, aware she’d come to a road sooner or later. Edinburgh was only a few miles away, and the city had a busy harbor, loaded with ships that were sailing to all sorts of exotic locales.
Surely there was
a captain who would let a fetching, sweet girl climb aboard. She couldn’t wait to find out.
THE END
Praise for New York Times Bestselling Author
CHERYL HOLT
“Best storyteller of the year…”
Romantic Times Magazine
“A master writer…”
Fallen Angel Reviews
“The Queen of Erotic Romance…”
Book Cover Reviews
“Cheryl Holt is magnificent…”
Reader to Reader Reviews
“From cover to cover, I was spellbound. Truly outstanding…”
Romance Junkies
“A classic love story with hot, fiery passion dripping from every page. There’s nothing better than curling up with a great book and this one totally qualifies.”
Fresh Fiction
“This is a masterpiece of storytelling. A sensual delight scattered with rose petals that are divinely arousing. Oh my, yes indeedy!”
Reader to Reader Reviews
Praise for Cheryl Holt’s “Lord Trent” trilogy
“A true guilty pleasure!”
Novels Alive TV
“LOVE’S PROMISE can’t take the number one spot as my favorite by Ms. Holt—that belongs to her book NICHOLAS—but it’s currently running a close second.”
Manic Readers
“The book was brilliant…can’t wait for Book #2.”
Harlie’s Book Reviews
“I guarantee you won’t want to put this one down. Holt’s fast-paced dialogue, paired with the emotional turmoil, will keep you turning the pages all the way to the end.”
Susana’s Parlour
“…A great love story populated with many flawed characters. Highly recommend it.”
Bookworm 2 Bookworm Reviews
BOOKS BY CHERYL HOLT
JILTED BY A ROGUE
JILTED BY A SCOUNDREL
