Loving the Bitter Baron: Sweet and Clean Regency Romance (His Majesty's Hounds Book 11)

by Arietta Richmond

  “I… I have seen such a thing before... during the war. It is knowledge I never thought to need again.”

  ~~~~~

  Alyse watched the mask come over his face again. Moments before, he had been looking at her as she had dreamed of him doing, with warmth and something more, now, he was cold and distant again. All, it seemed, because she had asked about how he had known how to save her hand. She did not understand the reaction.

  He had saved her. She had wished for a hero, imagining it to be him, and he had come. If she had been half in love with him before, she was more so now. The way that he had fought that madman, with such skill, with no proper weapons, fascinated her – such skill, and she had not known that of him. It did not matter why he chose to be distant to her – he was a hero, and she would cling to that, to the moment when he had looked at her as if she were precious to him. Perhaps, one day, she truly would be.

  “I am not sure if I can stand – I feel rather shaky, and I ache all over, from staying completely still for so long.”

  He held out his hand, and she took it, the warmth welcome.

  “I will help you. Let me get you back up out of the cellars – we can send some of the larger grooms and footmen to haul that madman up and keep him in custody until he can be dealt with.”

  He pulled her to her feet, and she wobbled, her breath catching as pain shot through her legs with returning sensation. He slipped his arm around her waist, taking her weight against him. She leant into him, enjoying the sensation of strength, of hard muscle against her. His immaculate clothes were in disarray, his cravat gone and a delicious triangle of skin visible at his throat, yet he felt perfect to her, in that moment. Her mind replayed the way that she had seen those muscles move as he fought for her safety, and heat flushed through her body.

  How different this was, being held against this man, compared to the horror of being clutched by that madman. Leaning into him, she tentatively took a step.

  “I believe that I can walk now, with your assistance. But… was that my journal that you threw at him? Can we retrieve it?”

  “Indeed it was. And an excellent emergency weapon it turned out to be. Come to the door – you can hold on to that for a moment whilst I collect the journal, then we can tackle the stairs.”

  He helped her across the floor, and she stood, watching, as he bent to pick up the journal. His dark blond hair fell over his forehead, in complete disarray, and he flicked it aside unconsciously as he stood again. She was filled with the desire to touch it. Once he returned to her, he handed her the journal, and slipped his arm about her again.

  “It is well made – it was not damaged at all by its fall, save for a slight nick in the leather binding. Oh, and I have your bag of pencils too – I found them on the stairs as I came down.”

  “Thank you. Every time I draw in this, I will thank you. He told me, the madman, that he had chosen to start with my right hand, so that he could take from me something I cared about, whilst also hurting you. And truly, I do not know what I would do, if I could not draw. Perhaps I would learn, as some people do, to use my other hand? I am glad that I need not find out.”

  They fell into silence, going slowly up the stairs. The further they went, the better she felt, as the movement warmed her muscles and the feeling of the man at her side warmed her heart. Finally, they reached the courtyard, almost colliding with Mills as he ran towards the door. Alyse laughed at the expression on his face.

  “Mills, thank you. As you can see, I have been found, although I am a little the worse for wear.”

  “My Lady, I’m so sorry – I should never have left you alone, not for a minute.”

  “Balderdash, Mills. You had no reason to know that I was anything but perfectly safe. Do not blame yourself.”

  “But I do, my Lady. What happened?”

  As he spoke, Hunter and Charles came rushing across the courtyard, having just arrived back, and been informed by the grooms of all the dramatic comings and goings.

  “Yes, what has happened. Alyse – I’ve never seen you look so shaken. And your hand… is that blood?”

  Lord Tillingford spoke firmly, in the face of Hunter’s question.

  “I’d suggest that we get Lady Alyse into the parlour, with a brandy and some tea, and get these cuts cleaned. Everything can be explained then, with everyone present. Mills, down in the deepest cellar below here, you will find a room full of very nasty old items, and one bound villain. He is a madman, and dangerous. Please take four strong men down there, and carry him up, and lock him away somewhere safe, until the magistrate can be called.”

  “As you wish, my Lord, I’ll summon the grooms at once.”

  Alyse, discovered that her legs were not very stable again, at the mention of the madman, and she leant into Lord Tillingford, wavering on her feet.

  She could see Hunter observing her, and the fact that she was held in Lord Tillingford’s arm, but he said nothing about it.

  There were times when she truly appreciated her brother.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Once inside, and settled on a couch, Lady Alyse allowed everyone to fuss over her. Gerry had felt a sense of loss when he had finally released her from his hold, and lowered her to the seat. He had not wanted to let her go, had wanted to hold her tight to him, reassuring himself that she was safe, allowing himself the pleasure of her touch. But he had released her, as was proper. He had no right to more, now that she was safely able to sit somewhere comfortable.

  As the housekeeper was tutting over her hand, washing it, covering it with healing salve and binding it up, Nerissa came rushing in, having just returned from the groundskeeper’s cottage, where she had been laying out the final plans for the garden to the gardening staff, and a new flurry of questions occurred.

  Gerry spoke up, once Nerissa slowed down.

  “Nerissa, please, let Mrs Pitt finish first – there are still the abrasions on Lady Alyse’s ankles to deal with. Then the story can be told to everyone at once.”

  Alyse was flushed, obviously embarrassed, but had allowed Mrs Pitt to lift her hems and fuss over her ankles. It no doubt felt most improper to have her lower legs exposed like that, in a room full of men, yet she looked grateful for the soothing water and salve on the torn skin.

  He sat in his favourite chair, watching her, watching them all, waiting for the moment when the story would need to be told. He dreaded it – for he would need to speak of his history, of his work during the war, in more detail than he ever had – there would be no avoiding it. Yet… in a way, it was a relief to know that he could speak of it. He might lose his friends, might lose everything he cared for, yet he would also lose the weight of the unspoken, which he had carried for so long. It was ironic that, potentially, Cunningham would achieve what he had wanted – his actions might yet destroy Gerry, if indirectly – for, if he lost everyone he cared for, if they all turned away in horror, he would have little left in his life.

  Finally, Mrs Pitt was finished, and gathered up the bowl of water, the cloths and the salves, and left the room. Nerissa poured the tea that the maid had brought, and all eyes turned to Gerry and Lady Alyse. Suddenly, everything seemed to still. Gerry felt calm, almost detached from the situation, the world crystal clear around him.

  “I believe that the beginning of this tale is yours to tell, Lady Alyse.”

  At his words, she nodded, and then sat a moment, her eyes cast down, her hands twisting in her lap, composing herself. He ached to touch her, to ease her tension – had he been sitting beside her, he was not sure that he could have resisted the temptation.

  When she finally lifted her gaze and spoke, her voice was steady.

  “When I had gathered up my journal and pencils, I set off to explore. I had decided to venture into the cellars again, but, when I reached the courtyard door into the Keep understorey, I realised that I had been silly enough to forget the need for a lantern. So I asked Mills to go back and get one, while I waited near the door, enjoying what lit
tle sunshine there was. I looked about me, as I always do, appreciating the quiet and the sun – for the only noise was the broom of the servant who was sweeping the cobbles – and I was studying the shape of the old iron latch on the door, when I was grabbed from behind.”

  She paused, and sipped her tea, whilst everyone waited, watching her.

  “The sound of the broom had stopped, moments before, so I have to suspect that the man who grabbed me was the one who appeared to be a servant. But I am not certain. I did not even have the chance to scream, for he clamped his hand over my mouth. He was big, and strong, and had wrapped an arm around me, trapping my arms against my sides. He half lifted, half dragged me into the building, and down the stairs. When I struggled, he threatened to push me down the stairs, so that the hurt I suffered in the fall would make me easier for him to handle.”

  Gerry ground his teeth together, filled with rage yet again, at how Cunningham had treated Lady Alyse. Hunter and Charles exchanged a look which said that their rage was no less. How would they react, Gerry wondered, when the tale of what had happened in that torture chamber was told?

  Alyse continued, her hands twisting in her lap as she spoke, her face pale.

  “When we got to the bottom of the stairs, I recognised the room we were in, for I had found it once before. When he began to drag me across that room, to the opening on the other side, I panicked. For that opening led to a passage, which went to only one place – a room that I had seen once before, and drawn the contents of. I struggled frantically, and somewhere in that, my pencil bag dropped from my wrist. The man didn’t care, he just laughed at me, and dragged me onwards. I could barely see, for he had no lantern, but my eyes had adjusted to the darkness somewhat, as his had, obviously. He dragged me along the passage, and into the room at the end.”

  “But – what was in the room, that the memory of it had made you panic?”

  Nerissa’s question dropped into the room like a bomb into Gerry’s life. Here was the moment when the difficult explanations would start.

  “It was a torture chamber, no doubt centuries old, and centuries unused, from the amount of dust and rust to be seen there. I had found it before, and seen it as simply a collection of strange objects from a time long past, things which I would not expect to be used in this more enlightened age. It was, in a sense, rather validating of the concept that all things, no matter how bad, eventually pass and crumble to dust. But it was not a place I wanted to be, in the hold of a madman who apparently wished to do me harm.”

  Hunter’s eyes met Gerry’s and the sense of approaching doom intensified.

  “What happened once you were in that room?”

  Hunter’s voice was low, but held a lethal edge in its tone.

  “He dragged me to the wall, and uncovered my mouth to reach up and see if he could open manacles that hung there. They looked rusted shut. I attempted to speak, and he cursed at me, threatened me, then simply hit me, twice, so hard that I fell into blackness. I think that I dropped my journal then, or perhaps earlier – I am not sure. When I came to, I was sitting, tied into a huge chair of some kind, and he had lit a lantern. Its flickering light made the contents of the room all too horribly visible. He was raving about revenge, and hurting me, so that he could hurt Lord Tillingford. It made little sense to me. He walked about the room, picking up and discarding devices, until he finally chose one – ‘to play with me’ in his words. It was a box, a devilish design that allowed a hand to be pushed into it, but not pulled out again without being ripped to pieces. He chose my right hand, so that, if I could not stay still, and moved my hand, I would lose my ability to draw. Then he told me that he intended to make sure that, in the end, I moved, and screamed.”

  Lady Alyse stopped, her voice having become unsteady, and sipped at her tea. After a moment of shocked silence, the room erupted into discussion.

  “He what! Where is this reprobate? I have a sudden personal desire to see to his disposal.”

  “I believe my wishes align with yours, Hunter. But, as the man is bound and locked away, if I heard things aright in the courtyard, perhaps we should hear the rest of the story first.”

  Hunter looked, at first, as if he would disagree with Charles, then nodded curtly, and turned back towards Lady Alyse.

  Nerissa had risen, and gone to Lady Alyse, wrapping her into a comforting hug. It was, Gerry thought, the point at which he should take over the tale.

  “I believe that the next part of the story is mine. Nerissa, Lady Alyse, you know that I left here with Hunter and Charles – but halfway out to the furthest farms, my horse lost a shoe, and picked up a bad stone bruise. I decided to walk him back, whilst Hunter and Charles went on. When I was halfway back to here, I saw a horseman, coming towards me, fast. It was Mills, bearing the news that Lady Alyse was missing, and that they had not been able to find her. A terrible sense of foreboding overcame me, and I left Mills to walk my horse back, and took his, to ride here as fast as I could. When I reached the courtyard, there was no sign of disturbance, beyond an abandoned broom on the cobbles. But on the edge of the door to the understorey, there were a few strands of pale gold hair – so I made the assumption that Lady Alyse had been taken through that door. For by then I was convinced that someone must have taken her – I could not imagine her not being true to her word, to wait for Mills.”

  “Thank you for your faith in me.”

  Gerry’s eyes met Lady Alyse’s for a moment, and he drew strength from the warmth with which she regarded him.

  “I felt like simply rushing in, but I had at least enough presence of mind to go back and get a lantern. Then, I went into the understorey of the Keep – by such small things as scuff marks on the stairs, I tracked the path that he had taken her, praying all the while that I was not reading too much into the small signs I found. But, when I found Lady Alyse’s pencil bag on the passage floor, I knew that I was going the right way.”

  “If that was what led you to me, then I am so very glad that it fell.”

  “As am I. I picked it up, and went carefully further down the passage. I, by then, recognised where I was, for I too had once before found that room. It was a room that I never wanted to return to.”

  Hunter looked sharply at him, but said nothing. Gerry was grateful, and went on, feeling the inevitable moment approaching.

  “I shuttered my lantern, and crept down the passage, for I could hear the rumble of a voice. The words did not come clear until I was almost at the door to the room. The door was ajar – perhaps one third open. I stopped and listened, moving carefully and peering through the gap to see what was happening in the room. I almost fell over Lady Alyse’s journal, which lay on the floor just outside the door. It was then that I realised how unthinking I had been, in my haste to find her. I had not brought a weapon. I looked and saw, just inside the door, a pile of fire pokers – which would have to do for weapons. Through the gap, I could see Lady Alyse, bound in a chair, her hand in a device which rested on one arm of it. A device I am afraid to say that I recognised. It was all I could do to stop myself from simply rushing blindly in, so great was my rage. But I managed to stop, and listen to what the man was saying. He was, as Lady Alyse commented, raving – rambling on about the war, his life, getting revenge, destroying the man who had destroyed him. But… I understood it all, I knew what he spoke of, and why. For I am the one he wished to destroy. All of this is my fault. My unforgivable fault.”

  “What do you mean? I cannot imagine you destroying someone’s life, Gerry.”

  “My thanks for your good opinion, Nerissa, but I fear that, in a way, the madman is right.”

  “Why would you believe that?”

  Hunter looked at him, puzzled. Gerry almost laughed – if even the man who had been his commanding officer, who had directed the need for his actions, in that crumbling farmhouse in France, did not see it, what hope did he have for understanding, once he explained the bald and terrible truth of it? Probably none. But there was no other option. He
had to finish what he had begun.

  “Because of what I did to him, in France. For, you see, I waited, and watched, hoping that I might be able to surprise him, when he was not near Lady Alyse, enough to overcome him somehow. But the position I was in was awkward, to see the right part of the room, and, in the end, I slipped, and bumped the door – which creaked, very badly. When he knew someone was there, he called out, calling me in. I slammed the door back, still hoping for surprise, but he was faster, and moved to her side, gripping her hair, and forcing her to move. Her cry of pain as her hand was cut stopped me in my tracks. But, standing there, I recognised him. Truth to tell, I remember all of their faces, all of the ones that I broke. But his – his I remember most of all, because he was one of ours that had turned.”

  “Ah. I see. I never asked, in France, exactly what you did to them. I was just grateful for the results that you produced, and that I did not have to interrogate them. Personally, I would have wanted to kill them, and I was glad that you managed not to.”

  Gerry forced himself not to gape at Hunter. He had understood that the others had appreciated not having to do what he did, but it had never occurred to him that their reasons might be a perception that they would be more destructive, more merciless, than he. Lady Alyse was watching him, her brow furrowed.

  “I am afraid that I still do not really understand.”

  “Let us finish telling the tale of what happened in the cellar, and then I will explain, as best I may.”

  He was caught, again, by Lady Alyse’s eyes, which still met his with warmth – a warmth that would surely disappear when he did explain.

  “Yes, I do want to know exactly how you overcame the man, and released Alyse, given that you had no weapon. Do continue.”