One Summer of Surrender

by Jess Michaels

  “I want to be your protector,” Winstead said softly.

  She caught her breath. This was what she had been waiting for, and yet she felt no pleasure in the pronouncement. “Yes?”

  “I have been enchanted by you since I first saw you here, Elise. Would you be interested in my taking that role?”

  She drew a long breath. Interested was not the best term for it. Resigned to it fit better, but there was no use in engaging in semantics. It wasn’t this man’s fault that he wasn’t the one she loved or that circumstances had forced her to this path.

  She forced a smile and said, “Yes. I would.”

  “Good, then we must come to terms,” he said, his face lighting up. “I admit you are my first mistress.”

  She flinched at the reminder that this man was several years younger than she. “Well, you are my first protector, so we’ll learn together.”

  He leaned, and his breath was warm on her lips. “So we shall.”

  He kissed her then. A warm, sensual kiss that should have curled her toes. Instead all she felt was horrible guilt. She was betraying Stenfax just like she had betrayed him once before. She was betraying herself and everything in her heart.

  And yet she had nothing to do about it. When Winstead pulled away, he smiled. “I have been waiting to do that a while now. Thank you.”

  She nodded slowly. “Terms,” she encouraged him.

  “Ah, yes. Well, I have small home to provide you. And an allowance, which I think is generous enough to manage what you would like to have.”

  “I have a maid. May I bring her?” she asked.

  “Of course. I will include her wages in the household expenses.” Winstead leaned back and looked at her, his eyes filled with a hungry, eager light. “I’d like to call on you twice weekly if you’d be open to that. And we could go to an event together once a month or so.”

  He was being very reasonable in his requests and yet Elise’s heart had begun to pound with anxiety. When he said he wished to call on her, he meant visit her to take her to bed. She would go to his bed. Hell, she was rather surprised he hadn’t insisted they make love already as some kind of test.

  “Elise?” he pressed, his face falling slightly at her silence.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m—I’m nervous, I admit. All of that seems fine, Theo. But may I ask that…that we make the move quickly? My situation at my current home is precarious and it would be better if I went sooner rather than later.”

  His eyes widened slightly. “I had no idea, I’m sorry. Certainly, I can have you moved in a few days at most if that will work for you.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, very much so.”

  “Good.” He leaned in and kissed her again. She tried with all her might to sink into it, but couldn’t manage it. He didn’t seem to notice. “Now I’d love to go into one of Vivien’s rooms and seal the deal properly,” he said, and she stiffened as he reached for her. “But I think I’d like to have you the first time in the home I provide for you. When I know you’re mine.”

  She almost collapsed in relief. “Yes. That would be very nice,” she said.

  “Excellent. I’ll have my man write up an agreement with terms and send it to your home tomorrow. Begin preparations for your move.”

  He caught her in his arms with a laugh and kissed her again, but as Elise clung to him, she fought tears. This was what she’d wanted, planned for, what she needed.

  And yet she wasn’t happy in the slightest. And she knew no matter how hard she tried, she never would be. And that was the ultimate punishment for her past.

  “Your Grace?”

  Elise jerked her face toward her maid, Ruth, and found the young woman staring at her with a strange expression.

  “This is good news, isn’t it?” Ruth asked.

  Elise blinked. She had just told her charge about her arrangements with Winstead. “Yes,” she said slowly. “There is just much to be arranged. And we must do it quietly so that the Duke of Kirkford doesn’t get wind of it. I cannot imagine he’ll be pleased with my decision.”

  She shivered at the thought of what Ambrose would do when he realized she’d taken a lover and it wasn’t him.

  Ruth frowned. “I’ll pack as discreetly as possible.”

  Elise nodded. “Good.”

  She looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was down and her night rail and robe were on. She looked ready for bed, but although she ached from exhaustion, she doubted she would get a wink.

  “You—you don’t look happy, Your Grace,” Ruth whispered. “I’m sorry if that’s forward.”

  “No,” she said with a reassuring glance at her maid. “I-I just didn’t think this is where my life would take me.”

  No, she’d had an entirely different future not so very long ago. With Stenfax. If she had married him when she was meant to, by now they would perhaps have a child. His beautiful child.

  She bent her head and squeezed her eyes shut to keep the tears from falling. She couldn’t surrender to this pain or it would swamp her, destroy her. She had to be strong because there was no other alternative.

  Suddenly there was a great pounding at her door. She jerked her head up and leapt to her feet, facing the barrier. “Who is it?” she asked.

  “Let me in, Elise, or I shall kick this bloody door down!”

  She gasped. It was the drunken voice of Ambrose, himself, that came from the hall. She exchanged a look of utter terror with Ruth.

  “What shall we do?” Ruth whispered.

  Elise looked toward the dressing room. “Go out through the adjoining room door. I don’t want him taking out his anger on you.”

  “But Your Grace—” Ruth began, eyes wide as saucers.

  “Do it,” she insisted, all but pushing her maid toward escape that she, herself, could not take.

  The girl did as she’d been told, but shot one last fearful look over her shoulder as she departed. Elise smoothed her robe and said, “Ambrose, I’m unlocking the door. Stop!”

  He did not, continuing to pound so hard that the hinges of the door shuddered with each smashing fist. She shook with terror as she moved to the door and turned the key.

  The moment she did, he thrust it open, nearly running her down as he rushed inside the chamber. She backed away at rapid speed, looking briefly to the drawer of her dressing table. She had a gun in that drawer. She’d put it there years ago, to guard against her husband when he was in a similar mood to his cousin’s.

  Now she was glad she’d never removed it.

  “What is it, Ambrose?” she asked.

  He stared at her, his gaze sliding over her informal nightgown and hair around her shoulders. He let out a belch before he said, “What do you think I’m doing here?”

  She drew in a few long breaths to remain calm. “I don’t know, but you have no right to burst into my house, my chamber, in the middle of the night!”

  He tilted his head. “My house, you grasping whore. And I’m here because I heard about your little trips to Vivien Manning’s.”

  She froze. Vivien had assured her that Ambrose was not allowed to hold a membership in her club. And most didn’t speak about what they saw or did there, out of fear they’d lose their own membership. But Elise had always known she was taking a chance going there, making public her desire to find a protector.

  It seemed her chickens were now coming home to roost, if Ambrose’s wild-eyed rage was any indication.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never even heard of this person,” she said, trying to keep the quaver from her voice. Failing miserably.

  “Don’t lie to me!” he roared. “Someone saw you there and reported it back to me. If you want to spread your legs for anyone who offers blunt, then here.”

  He tossed her a shilling and it bounced off her chest and clattered to the floor. She supposed the small value of the coin was meant to be insulting, but she wasn’t insulted
. She was abjectly terrified.

  “Now take off your clothes,” he demanded, beginning to strip off his jacket as he said it.

  “No,” she said, not daring to move.

  He made a sound of rage so deep in his throat that she nearly collapsed in terror right there. Then he rushed at her, crossing the room in a few long steps. She braced herself, her mind turning back to a very long ago summer day when Gray, Asher and Stenfax had taught Felicity and her how to throw a punch.

  She hardly recalled their teachings, but as Ambrose moved to grab her, she shot out a fist and hit him. She hadn’t fully closed the fist, though, so her finger darted out and she clawed him in the eye.

  He staggered back, covering his eye with his hand as he made a sound of pain. With his other hand, he swung and backhanded her across the left cheek so hard that she saw stars. The force of the blow sent her reeling into her dressing table. Her hip crashed into the wood and pain shot through her.

  “Goddamn bitch! You will pay for that.”

  She didn’t think anymore. Her body seemed to entirely function on its own volition. She yanked her drawer open. A small double-barreled flintlock pistol waited inside. She pulled it from its hiding place and pulled back the hammer as she spun back to level it on Ambrose’s chest.

  He stopped moving toward her, and for a moment the room was silent as they stared at each other.

  “What a tiny little pistol you have there, Your Grace,” he finally chuckled.

  Her hands were shaking, but she didn’t lower the weapon. “I was assured that it fires just as well as any larger version, Ambrose. If you’d like to test it, I’m happy to show you.”

  She wished her voice sounded more calm, more collected, but it trembled just as she trembled from head to toe.

  “Put it down, Elise,” he insisted.

  She shook her head. “I shall not.”

  He scowled but didn’t advance. “You think that if you stop me tonight, that you’ll stop me forever? I’ll just come back.”

  She bit her lip and decided to play her cards. “I won’t be here. I did go to Vivien’s, just as you have heard. I’ve found a protector, Ambrose, and I’m leaving this place.”

  His face twisted in rage. “You think you can walk away?” he bellowed, his voice all but shaking the room.

  “I know I can,” she said. “And I don’t want to spill your blood on the way out, but I will if you take one more step toward me.”

  “All right,” he said softly, his demeanor and tone terrifyingly calm after all his rage and bluster. “You go. You go tonight, in fact, if you think you’re so high and mighty. But know this. It’s not over. I know about Toby’s book.”

  She swallowed hard past the lump of pure terror in her throat and stared at him. “Book, what book?”

  “Don’t play stupid, Elise. You know what book,” he said.

  She drew back. “I don’t know, Ambrose, and I don’t care.”

  “You should,” he said with a bark of laughter. “It’s the book where he kept all the secrets he used against people. Including, I would wager, yours.”

  Cold terror settled over every part of her body, but she refused to react. “I have no secrets,” she lied.

  Ambrose cocked his head with an incredulous look. “He had to get you somehow.”

  “You know how he got me. A higher title and a bigger purse. That’s all there is to it.”

  “I don’t think so,” Ambrose said with a smile. “Because all the world is talking about how you’re bedding Stenfax again, too. And I saw you two on the terrace last week. The way you looked at him, you wouldn’t have walked away unless my dearly departed cousin had something powerful on you.” His smile grew wider. “Or maybe not on you. Maybe someone else you cared for.”

  She shook her head. “No,” she whispered.

  “Yes, I’ve heard enough of that tonight.” Ambrose turned toward the door. “You’re delaying the inevitable, Elise. You know that. I will have you, whether by force or by striking a bargain once I know what lies and secrets you hold in that icy heart of yours. Now you and your maid get out of my house. My generosity ends tonight.”

  He stepped into the hall, slamming the door behind him. Elise sank to her knees, the gun still lifted, staring at the place where he’d gone. The door to the dressing room opened and she turned the gun toward it, but it was Ruth who stepped through. The girl shrieked in horror when she came face to face with the gun.

  “Oh, Your Grace,” Ruth whispered as Elise lowered the weapon. “Your eye!”

  Elise blinked. In her terror, she’d forgotten that Ambrose had struck her. Her eye immediately began to throb and she lifted a hand to find it swollen already.

  She could hold back no longer. She bent her head, her body shaking, and the tears began to fall. Her maid edged toward her and knelt beside her, gently prying the gun from her aching fingers and setting it aside.

  “I-I heard most of it,” Ruth said.

  Elise didn’t respond, just kept crying. Tonight was the culmination of what felt like a lifetime of pain and disappointment. She had sacrificed her life, her future, for the secrets Toby had uncovered, but she’d truly believed they had died with the loathsome man.

  Now it seemed they might not have. Everything she’d fought to protect was at risk again. Everything she had done could very well be for nothing.

  “Where will we go?” the maid asked.

  Elise lifted her head. That was a very good question. Winstead had offered to be her protector tonight, but she had no idea where he lived, nor if he would accept her if she appeared there.

  And the fact was that the secrets Ambrose threatened had everything to do with Stenfax. She had tried very long to protect him, to protect his family, from those secrets coming out.

  But now it seemed she was out of her depth. He had a right to know about the threat she couldn’t adequately protect him from.

  “We will go to the Earl of Stenfax,” she whispered, wiping at her tears and pushing to her feet on shaky legs. “It is the only option now, no matter how I’ve tried to avoid it. Pack as much as you can as quickly as you can. We leave within the half hour.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Stenfax dug his fingers into Elise’s hair, dragging her body against his as he kissed her deeply, passionately. She moved against him, whispering how she loved him over and over. But in the background, there was a persistent sound. Bang, bang, bang.

  He tried to ignore it, tilting her face toward his, seeing all her love there, watching all the time and the lies bleed away until they could be together.

  Bang, bang, bang.

  And in that moment, he realized this was a dream.

  “No!” he said, holding tighter, but she was fading, fading away.

  He opened his eyes and sat up with a start. The banging at his chamber door was loud and constant.

  “My lord? My lord?” It was his butler Xavier’s voice in the hall.

  “Come in, Xavier,” Stenfax grunted, adjusting the covers over his naked body. “For Christ’s sake, just stop knocking.”

  The door opened and Stenfax flinched at the light from the hall, raising his hand to block it and the shadow of his servant entering the darkened room.

  “I’m sorry to disturb, my lord,” Xavier said.

  “What bloody time is it?” Stenfax grunted.

  “After three, sir,” Xavier said.

  Stenfax looked at him. The normally impeccable butler was in his dressing gown and a crooked nightcap. He held a candle that gave his wrinkled face an eerie glow.

  “Why are you in my room at three in the morning?” Stenfax asked, but he despite his calm tone, he was beginning to worry. There was no good reason he would be disturbed by his staff like this. Only tragic ones.

  “You have a visitor, my lord,” Xavier said, and from his shifting, he was very uncomfortable giving this news.

  “Who?” Stenfax said, his tone sharp at last. />
  “It’s the Duchess of Kirkford, my lord. And a maid.” The man shifted again. “And a small valise.”

  “What?” Stenfax barked, throwing the covers off and grabbing for his robe.

  “They—they arrived very suddenly and I put them in the parlor. They both seemed very upset and—” The servant cut himself off and Stenfax took a step toward him.

  “And?”

  “Her Grace has a nasty bruise on her eye, my lord.”

  Stenfax tensed. He had left Vivien’s club hours before and Elise had been seemingly safe in the arms of Winstead. Now she was here and injured.

  “She was hit,” he ground out past clenched teeth.

  “It appears so,” Xavier said with a solemn nod.

  Stenfax took a long breath, mostly so he wouldn’t scream out his anger and anguish at her pain. Then he looked at Xavier. “Send the maid to the servants’ quarters, make sure she’s comfortable there. And the valise may be taken up to a chamber for her ladyship. You choose, and leave the door open so I may escort her there later. I’ll be down in a moment to speak to Elise—Her Grace.”

  “Yes, sir.” Xavier executed a sharp bow before he moved for the door.

  “And Xavier?” Stenfax said, keeping him from departing.

  “Yes?” the butler asked, turning back.

  “The wine tonight was chilled. Do we still have any ice?”

  “A little,” Xavier said. “Most has melted.”

  “Gather what we have left in a cloth and give it to Her Grace. For her injury.”

  Xavier nodded, and this time Stenfax let him leave the room. He paced the chamber for a moment, not because he didn’t want to rush down to meet Elise, but because he desperately did want to. He needed to be calm before he saw her. Whatever she’d been through that night, he wasn’t about to make it worse by panicking and blustering.

  Except he wasn’t going to be calm. He knew it. He also knew something else, powerfully and clearly. He was in love with Elise. Still. Always. Forever.

  And it was awful.