Longing for a Liberating Love: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  He shook his head as though dismissing a bad thought. “Never mind.” He came further into the room and perched on the chair near her bed. He looked almost pensive in the firelight—if she didn’t know the strength that lay beneath that hunched frame, she would have looked at him in that moment and thought him a gentle man. “How did you think tonight went?” he asked, almost winsome.

  Alina was drawn in despite herself. “People seemed surprised,” she told him softly. “And happy. You have many people in London who will be glad of your return.”

  “And you?” That winsomeness again. Her heart melted in guilt at the memory of how she’d been glad when she’d heard of his death. She smiled weakly.

  “I am glad you did not die, Jonas. It was a miraculous discovery.”

  “I wasn’t asking about the evening.” He cleared his throat and leaned back in the chair. “I was asking about your performance down there. How did you think it went?”

  A cold, hard edge of warning was back in his voice, and Alina shivered a little in the shadow of the room. “It’s not a song I’m familiar with, but people seemed to be pleased.”

  “I was pleased,” he said with chilling emphasis. “And that is all that should ever matter to you, Alina. I did think you lacked passion when you sang—as I mentioned in the party at large—which surprises me.”

  “Why?” Her heart was running rampant in her chest.

  “Because you, of all people, should know what it is to be courted and won by a man who has other motives than your happiness.”

  She’d thought he was speaking of Theodore at first, and the blood pounded in her temples with the desire to flee. But when she saw the triumph on his face, she knew he was exalting in his own conquest.

  “What was your motive, Jonas?” she asked.

  “For marrying you?” He yawned and leaned back. “Societal advance, perhaps, although I cannot congratulate myself in that arena so we will lay it aside at present. You used to be quite pretty.”

  He ran his fingers along the edge of the chair—casually, as though they were talking about the weather and not the shattering of their fractured marriage.

  “But, can I tell you a secret?” He leaned close. “The real reason was that a friend of mine said you couldn’t be had, not as young and pretty and bloody pure as you were, and I had to prove him wrong. I did, didn’t I?”

  She stared at him, still as a statue, hating the spite in her own heart. It wasn’t even aimed at him, even in this cruelest hour. Her revulsion was directed at that simple-headed lass she’d been, the girl who’d fallen for him because everyone had told her he was so desirable.

  You’re so lucky, Alina. He’s so handsome and rich, Alina. You will never have to worry again. She could hear them still in her head, like a murder of crows that would not relent.

  “Now that I’m ‘out’ again in society,” Jonas was saying, “I can finally get back to my own business.”

  She couldn’t resist it. She should have, but she couldn’t. “I believe some of that business attended your funeral,” she told him, her voice icy. “She was quite pretty, and had a child.”

  His eyes narrowed, and he stepped ominously to his feet. “I’m sorry, Alina, but did you so miss my fist while I was gone that you would trespass on such a subject with so little fear?”

  She leaned away from him. “No, Jonas. I just—”

  “You are still a silly little girl,” he spat. “Even the brief knowledge you do have about a situation is nothing but disguised ignorance.”

  For a moment, she thought he was going to strike her, but he did not. Instead, he turned on his heel, leaving her cowering on her bedspread. She didn’t cry anymore that night—she had no tears left.

  Chapter 21

  Theo tried to focus his thoughts on the cases that lined his desk, but in reality all he could think about was the way Alina had looked down on him as she’d climbed the stairs two nights ago at Jonas’ revelation party—that trapped, desperate, lost look. For she was, he knew, all those things.

  He feared how desperate she had become, but he clung to the memory of what she had once told him—that Jinx mattered more than her own escape. She wouldn’t hurt herself, he hoped.

  “Your mind’s been in the clouds all day,” Verner pointed out, coming into the office and catching his friend staring out the window yet again. “We have real work to do if we’re to mount a believable defense against the Duke.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” Theo pulled the file forward and began running a cursory glance across the pages.

  “And that’s not all,” Verner went on in a tight voice. “You know one of our highest-paying clients is Jonas Hartley. His return, so recently announced in the London papers, will mean an increase in our profits again. You should get back in contact with him at once.”

  Theo answered without looking up from the papers in his hand. “I saw him only two days ago.”

  “Did he allude to any sort of visit to reestablish our business transactions?”

  “Verner.” Theo slammed the file down a little harder than he intended, struggling to keep his voice calm. “You were here when Matthew Hartley came to visit. Shall we reward his bullying by groveling to his brother? You know Jonas is as bad as—or worse than—Matthew. Is it really worthwhile to engage such clients?”

  Verner stared at him with more knowing in his eyes than Theo liked. “You would distance yourself forever from the Hartley name? Theodore, you know that means every Hartley in London.”

  Theo sighed. He wasn’t afraid of Verner—he’d known the man long enough to be assured any affection between himself and Alina would be a safely-kept secret in Verner’s mind—but he still hated how these last few days the world had seemed to shower him at every turn with memories of what he had lost.

  “Perhaps it’s for the best,” he said at last, letting his head fall into his hands.

  As if on cue, the doorman appeared with news of a visitor. “Messrs. Jonas and Matthew Hartley, sirs,” he said, bowing deeply.

  Theo looked up and Verner shrugged. “They sent word that they would be coming this morning. I was trying to prepare you.”

  Theo nodded grimly, then turned to the doorman. “Show them in,” he said coldly.

  Looking at Jonas in the daylight, without the added horror and grandeur of the nighttime dinner party, Theo was again struck by how little he had changed since his ordeal. There were still traces of his hospital stay in the gray around his eyes and in the sallow color of his hands and face, but in general he still had the look of a bearish man—strong beneath his overcoat, rippling with undisguised animosity. He looked like a man searching for a fight.

  Theo had seen this before in childhood bullies. Always, they were worse on the schoolyard the day after they’d been shown their own weakness at home. He stood, bowed stiffly, and showed the two men to their seats. Verner could have left—the Hartleys were strictly Theo’s clients—but he drew up a chair in the corner and pretended to read anyway, providing the same support he’d given at Matthew’s last visit.

  The two visitors took their seats slowly, talking amongst themselves as though Theo was a family servant on the fringes rather than a paid financial advisor.

  “Did you imagine that the gambling halls would have forgotten you?” Matthew was saying, giving Theo only a brief nod while keeping his attention on his older brother. “You seemed so shocked at every turn last night when people knew you and wanted your ear. You must imagine they have been waiting to see Hartley gold again.”

  “I imagine they’re glad of any gold,” Jonas responded with a rough guffaw, “but it was the ladies I was surprised about. You would think such tender morsels would have abated their sadness in my passing with other gentleman, but they rained down on me with as much intensity as ever before. I think shipwreck looks good on me.”

  “A tragic figure,” Matthew agreed. “Ladies always fall for that rubbish.”

  “Some ladies,” Jonas said coldly, turning for th
e first time to meet Theo’s eyes. “Not mine.”

  Theo cleared his throat. “Gentlemen. I was wondering when we might set eyes on you again in your office. There is much business to discuss.” He gave a bow of his head in Jonas’ direction and struggled to keep a note of sincerity in his voice. “How glad we all are, Mr. Hartley, to see you have returned well and safely from your travels. You gave us a scare.”

  “I gave some people a scare,” Jonas answered. “But not, I should think, you.”

  It was the second time he had made such a comment in the space of a few minutes, and a chill crept up Theo’s spine. He shook it away, knowing Jonas was the sort of man who would say anything to put another off his game in situations of business and negotiation. “You were able to embrace London’s nightlife again, I see?” Theo commented, trying to keep his tone light.

  “Oh, don’t be tiresome, Theo, old boy.” Jonas relaxed a little, looking around the room. “You have any sherry in here? The headache’s extreme.” He looked back at Theo with a snide narrowing of his eyes. “I know you never approved of my gambling.”

  “It’s hard for you to expect a barrister in charge of parceling out your money to approve of the willful destruction of your funds,” Theo told him honestly. “But I have always seen my job as that of an advisor, not judge and jury.”

  “If only that were true,” Matthew put in bitterly.

  “Do you have something you wish to say, Mr. Matthew?” Theo asked, unable to keep the sharpness from his tone.

  “I do, and I am glad my brother is here to hear it,” he snapped. He turned to Jonas. “Brother, this man has been mismanaging your estate since your death. He refused to hand control over to me after your passing, instead insisting that it was little Jinx’s birthright—”

  “It was,” Jonas interjected.

  “—to be controlled by his mother,” Matthew finished.

  Jonas raised his eyebrows. “And there you have it. I know Theodore here always had a bleeding heart for the downtrodden, but to put my hard-earned money in the hands of a woman is an insult.”

  Theo chose his words carefully. “Have you found anything mismanaged in your absence? Check your shipping records, and the account of your company’s profits. You will see that your money has gone up, not down, since the false news of your untimely end. I have tried to manage your money well, and Alina has been a help in that matter.”

  He knew the mistake he’d made as soon as her name had slipped like honey from his mouth.

  Jonas sat bolt upright. “Alina? You dare to call my wife by her first name as though she was a whore on the street?”

  Theo shook his head. “My apologies.”

  “This is exactly what I’m talking about,” Matthew said, throwing up his hands as though losing patience at last with the shocking ways of the world. “This man has interfered with your estate since news of your passing; he has overstepped his bounds as a common barrister and has grown far too comfortable with your wife. Do you consider that proper management? Or do you not see that he is a cold little weasel with an eye to your bed?”

  Theo leapt to his feet, his heart pounding. “This is an outrage!” he cried.

  “Calm yourself,” Jonas said with deadly quiet. “Let us not begin a list of useless denials before you’ve seen all the evidence.”

  He took a letter out of his pocket and slid it across the table. It was faded and pale, wrinkled from multiple readings, and it had a fold from where Matthew or Jonas had slid it into their pocket at one point. He did not recognize it, and told them so.

  Matthew smiled coyly. “That is because you haven’t seen it,” he said. “Alina’s maid—my maid, actually, as she was in my employ at the time—caught the little wench writing it in Brighton and brought it to me instead of the postman. It’s amazing what a few extra pounds will do to encourage loyalty from the help.”

  Theo looked at the letter in confusion. “She…wrote me?”

  “Don’t pretend ignorance.” Jonas pushed the letter until it touched Theo’s disbelieving fingers. “Read, and understand the weight of your own guilt.”

  Theo opened it, wincing as he recognized Alina’s curved handwriting filling the page. Dear Mr. Pendleton…It was a fine letter, the kind that would have put him on a horse and driven him into her arms if he’d ever received it. It began with proper and polite references to the way he had served Jonas Hartley, and then the questions of ‘business’ she claimed to have upon his time. He thought about their time together in Brighton and knew with certainty that she had not had any business in mind—only the sharing of the sun and the sea with each other and little Jinx.

  “This is a letter to me,” he said hoarsely, “but I see no words of love.”

  “Let me see.” Jonas snatched it back and began reading the last bit of the letter in a mocking voice. “‘I have for some time counted you among my dearest friends. I have wanted to see you for some time, and I miss our talks. I feel there was some distance created after my husband’s funeral, and if there is any way to bridge that gap and have your wise counsel once again in my life, I would be most grateful.’”

  He paused and mimed wiping a fake tear from his eye. “Tender stuff. And look here, at the end: ‘You are a good, decent man in a world that turns out few good and decent men. Please, honour me with your presence in Brighton at your earliest convenience. Jinx will be thrilled, as well.’” He looked up with a dangerous fire in his eyes. “Is that not damning enough? She says if there is ‘any way to bridge the gap’ she would be most grateful. I can only imagine what ‘way’ an enterprising young man such as yourself would find.”

  Theo thought about further denials, but he felt a place of certainty had at last been reached. A cold sense of calm crept over him. He looked at Jonas with steely eyes. “You were dead, Jonas. For months. She was faithful to you when she thought you lived, and only months after your death did she dare to dream of real happiness.”

  Jonas’ eyes lit with a new fire. “You do not deny it?”

  “I deny accusations of infidelity. I deny that the letter was her attempt at an illicit tryst. But I do not deny that I entertained hopes that one day she would forget your memory and make a life with me.”

  Jonas stood up, his anger at the boiling point. “You are a foolish man. Do you really think that I can be convinced nothing illicit happened? I am confident that your affair began years ago, perhaps far longer than I even guess. Alina is a sneaky little witch, and I know she could have pulled the wool over my eyes. You’ve been in my employ for many years, and I cannot imagine you’ve spent all that time looking at my wife from a distance.”

  “You cannot imagine it,” Theo countered, his voice rising, “because of your own black heart. You have never really loved a woman selflessly—you have never chosen her own purity over your own desire. You would never sit by for years and watch a woman be with a man you thought was worthless—you would swoop in and take her for your own, no matter the cost to her own reputation.”

  “Perhaps,” Jonas said with a sneer. “But that is a note in my favor, not yours. I am not convinced of my own wife’s purity.”

  “Her character has been spotless,” Theo hissed. “I have wished often that she would distance herself from your cruelty, but at every turn she chooses the role of the dutiful wife. You have nothing for which you can blame her. On the contrary—you are the disgusting, vile toad who chose other harpies when you had the real thing waiting for you every night at home.”

  Matthew jumped to his feet, too, his face twisted into a sneer. “You speak all high and mighty, as though you have her best interest at heart, but you are no better than my brother. You are only after the estate. You wanted Alina because her husband was dead and she was equivalent with a vast fortune.”

  “Get. Out.” Theo could barely contain the anger that seethed out of his every word. “Get out of my office, now.”