Longing for a Liberating Love: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  “Of course, you were important,” Alina cried. “Without you, he would not have had the anvil that he was able to hold above my head. Without you, he would have been forced to face the truth—that I was faithful, even to Jonas’ memory, and though I had begun to dream of love again I cut off all ties when I learned that Jonas had survived.” She softened her voice. “I am sorry for any time when I was unkind to you, Willa. I was distracted and overwhelmed—I had lost my husband and future. While these ought not to be excuses, they are none the less motivations for my behavior, and I hope you will take them into account when considering in the future the just retribution you dealt me.”

  Willa fell silent.

  Alina folded up the last of Jinx’s coats and laid it over his clothes and shoes. Then, she reached over and snapped the suitcase shut. “Will you help me get Jinx out of here?”

  “No, my lady.” Willa’s voice was shaking and hard again. “The master wouldn’t like it.”

  Alina sighed, the scrap of paper in her pocket a reminder of how much progress was yet to be made. “Then I will fetch him myself. I am surprised you are not driven to right the wrong you have done to me.”

  “I am unconvinced I’ve done wrong,” Willa said through tight teeth. “Mr. Hartley says that the person with the power is the person in the right, and as I stand here I, a lowly maid, still have power over you.”

  The words were so cruel, so brazen, that Alina was driven to her final confusion faster than she’d intended. She stood up, and when the servant girl rose in answer they stared each other down, eye to eye.

  “Listen to me, Willa, and listen closely. As your former employer, I am the only one who can write you a letter of recommendation. Would you like me to ruin your reputation as you have ruined mine? I will not enjoy the prospect quite as much as you have, but I am not afraid to tell potential employers the truth about your betrayal.”

  Willa shrugged, impudent. “I don’t need a letter of recommendation,” she hissed. “I will be staying here with Mr. Hartley.”

  “As a ladies’ maid? I think not.” Alina pretended to have thought of something. “Actually, you’re right. There will be a lady here soon.” She pulled out the scrap of paper copied from the blacksmith’s in Gretna Green and showed it to Willa. “You see,” she said as the girl began to read, “There is more scandal here than you can possibly know. The woman who will doubtless be taking my place here is a woman who secretly allowed a bigamist to operate right under your nose. She and her child, who will by the world be considered illegitimate if Jonas refuses to admit his illegal activity, will be staying here. You will be caring for Miss Isadore.”

  “I will not.” Willa’s eyes were aflame with fury. “How dare you speak such a thing. You’re a lady yourself. How could you imagine that I would work for a soiled woman such as that?”

  Alina stared at her in silence, waiting for the truth to dawn on Willa’s face. The maid blinked, and a wrinkle of fear crossed her brow. “I will have to look elsewhere for employment,” she said softly.

  “And for that, you will need a good reference.” Alina reached into her pocket, then, and drew out the letter she had written earlier. She opened it, and began to read aloud. “’To Whom it May Concern, I have employed Miss Willa for six years now as my personal ladies’ maid. She has many accomplishments, having been trained by one of the best talents upper London can offer, including the most exquisite hair arrangements and an eye for fashion. She is professional and proper, and would provide your household with steady, loyal service. I would advise you to consider not only her for employment, but also her mother, who was another loyal housekeeper here for many years. Considering the possibility that they will both soon be needing work outside of Marshall Gardens, I would like you to take my word of honour as a credit to their name. They will only enhance the state of your home and your reputation. Please contact me with further questions. Mrs. Alina Hartley.’”

  Willa stared at her with wide eyes. “For my mother, too?”

  “I doubt you would want to leave her in the employ of Isadore any more than you yourself want to be here,” Alina said. Then, a bit more kindly, she added. “And until this incident, you were both the heart of civility and professionalism.”

  Willa swallowed hard. “Mr. Hartley’ll have my head.”

  “He’s not the sun and the moon, Willa,” Alina pointed out, realizing with a smile that she truly believed that for the first time. “Not the beginning and the end. You can live, happily even, out from under the Hartley thumb.”

  Willa nodded then, tentatively, like a little girl agreeing to lone her best toy to a friend. “I will help you. Mr. Hartley’s out, but he should be back for dinner. He’s having guests over to celebrate—” she paused, blushing.

  “To celebrate my absence,” Alina acknowledged with a wave of her hand. “No need to shield me, dear.”

  “Mrs. Hartley, you seem different.”

  “How so?” Alina picked up the suitcase in her hand and tucked a pile of books in her other arm.

  “Confident.” Willa reached over and took the books from her. “Let me hold those.”

  They walked together downstairs, still looking furtively from side to side. Alina wouldn’t have minded a show-down with Jonas right then and there in the hall, but she didn’t want Jinx to have to experience it. He deserved better.

  Willa loaded everything in the carriage under Georges’ watchful eye while Alina crept outside to the garden. Jinx was on the swing by himself, but he wasn’t moving. His little feet sat idle in the dirt and his back, which she knew was still sore, leaned against the rope for support. His head was low to his chest, and for a moment she thought he was asleep.

  “Jinx.” She came up to him and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

  He looked up with a start, his eyes wide. “Mama?”

  “Yes, it’s me.” She didn’t want to shock him, so she knelt down beside him in the dirt. “Don’t be afraid.”

  A funny little smile came onto Jinx’s face. “Why would I be afraid of you, Mama? Do you get to come home?”

  Tears came into Alina’s eyes and she put a hand on her son’s face. “I can’t, sweetie. Your papa doesn’t want me at home.” She took a deep breath. “But if you want, I can take you with me. Only if you want.”

  Jinx looked at her as though she was asking the most obvious question. “Yes, Mama. Please take me with you.”

  “Really? It won’t be as fancy as living here with your father.”

  He shrugged, and kicked one of his feet in the dirt. “Do I need to get my things?”

  “No, I already did, dear heart.”

  “Then we can go now.” He looked up at her with a wide, innocent smile.

  Chapter 31

  Theo stood at the door to the Baron of Martin’s house with his hat in his hand. The Baron’s footman had answered the door instead of the butler, and he now swayed uncomfortably back and forth in front of Theo as though uncertain how to proceed.

  “You didn’t make an appointment, Mr. Pendleton.”

  “No, but I never had to make an appointment before.” Theo set his jaw. “I think you’d best let me in to see the Baron, and allow him to make the hard decisions about who does and doesn’t deserve the honor of his company.”

  The footman’s face darkened at the insult, but in the end he stepped aside and escorted Theo formally into the Baron’s office. It was a wide, expansive room off the main parlour, hung with elegant tapestries and panelled in dark wood. At first, it was too dim to make out the Baron’s shape in one of his huge armchairs, but at last he rose from his chair and came to shake hands with Theo.

  “Mr. Pendleton.” He nodded almost dismissively. “I confess, I was not expecting to see you on my doorstep.”

  “Why not?” Theo asked, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. “I am, after all, your barrister. I have been to your home on many occasions, and in none of them have I been so scrutinized at the door.”

  “
Much has changed since you last visited me,” the Baron informed him coldly. “You know, I play cards with the Duke on many occasions, and he is not so fond of you now, either.”

  Theo relaxed a bit at that. He could handle issues of genuine business and politics—it was the fear of Jonas’ threat and Matthew’s reprisals that kept him on edge. “Ah. Well, your friend the Duke ought not to blackmail poor serving girls. Then he will see less of my sharp tongue on the witness stand.”

  He knew from past experience that a show of bravado was the surest way to garner the Baron’s coveted attention. Lord Martin was a man of shrewd business and didn’t like to deal with those he felt were beneath him, easily intimidated. True to form, the Baron smiled.

  “Yes, he was rather unwise in that matter. It is my opinion that if one is going to engage in an indiscretion, one should be prepared to face the facts upon discovery. Or, at the very least, be better at hiding your wrongs.”

  “Your morality is, as ever, a matter of grey rather than black and white,” Theo said drily. “But if you don’t hold a grudge against me for my defense of the Duke, could you tell me why you have yet to return any of my messages regarding your financials? You have been a loyal client in the past, and this behaviour is unexpected.”

  “Is it truly unexpected?” The Baron rose and poured himself a glass of amber liquid from a crystal decanter. “I would have thought you socially conscious enough to know your current reputation.”

  Theo swallowed hard. So Jonas and Matthew had done their damage after all. “What is it that you have heard?”

  The Baron sat back down and leaned back in his chair, spinning his drink in small, mesmerizing circles. “A man came to visit me—a man by the name of Matthew Hartley.”

  “I know him.”

  “He said he was a representative of his brother, Jonas. You know this name, I see. Perhaps you are better acquainted with Mrs. Hartley?”

  “I cannot imagine how she features in this conversation.”

  The Baron yawned. “I am an astute man, and I understand that my own morality may often be disputable. But while I think a Baron might be allowed his little indiscretions, I cannot see how it is good for a barrister—a man who handles my financials and holds the future of my fortune in his hands—to be dishonest and dishonorable.”

  “You would place these charges against me without even waiting to hear my rebuttal?” Theo felt the fight was already lost, but he couldn’t just let all he’d worked for slide away into oblivion.

  The Baron shrugged. “Mr. Hartley and his brother are both men of means and social recognition. I have no reason to doubt their story. Besides, he showed me a letter—”

  “That was private.” Theo snapped, though he immediately regretted his words. In his effort to defend Alina, he had acknowledged some connection with the letter. He had damned himself.

  The Baron knew this, and seemed to be enjoying the fact. “Oh, it’s all very amusing,” he said. “I do applaud you for reaching as high as Jonas Hartley’s wife.”

  “Nothing happened. He was presumed dead.”

  “Yes, I’d heard about that in the paper.” The Baron yawned and took a swig of the drink. “I will be straight with you, Mr. Pendleton. This little sob story—your attempt to come and win me back to your office—is not going to work. It really doesn’t matter what’s true and what’s not. If the Hartleys are spreading lies about you around London, it will reflect badly on me if I stay in your sphere. It’s as simple as that.”

  Theo knew it was true. He didn’t even have it in him to protest against how unjust this handling was. Since he was a young boy, he’d known that his social standing put him below others in the London circles, and he had accepted it. Always, he had accepted it, because he genuinely thought he could pull himself above his station, make a name for himself. If he wasn’t wealthy, he would at least be respected in his field and comfortable enough to offer his family a good living. But no, he’d been proven terribly wrong. It didn’t matter how high you climbed—if you made the wrong enemy, you were nothing again in moments.

  He stepped back. “Then I will petition you no longer.”

  “The kindest thing you can do now is to distance yourself from that partner of yours—Verner. If you hold with him much longer, he’ll lose his clients, too.”

  Theo nodded. He had thought of that, these last weeks, watching his clients stream through his fingers. The Baron had been one in a long line of impassioned pleas he’d made as of late, and this failure matched all the others.

  “I will take my leave of you, then,” Theo said. “Please be assured that I will collect my things from Verner’s office today. If you are looking for good representation in my absence, it can surely be found there.”

  The Baron nodded, and for a moment a look of sad camaraderie flitted over his face. But such things were weakness, as Theo well knew, and the sadness was quickly replaced with a cold wave of his hand.

  “Begone, then, and let me not see you in the Baronette again.”

  ***

  “Your uncle sent over a note saying he has taken up residence at an inn in Richmond.” Verner greeted Theo’s return with a sympathetic smile. To his credit, Verner hadn’t mentioned distancing himself from Theo in the least since his public downfall—the man was infernally loyal, a trait that would hurt him if Theo didn’t intervene.

  “His ship came in sooner than expected,” Theo said dully, laying his hat and bag down on his desk for the last time. “I was expecting a few more weeks yet.”

  “What is his business in London, anyway?” Verner asked.

  “He’s a lawyer across the pond, in Boston. He had a meeting here in London for business relating to a case he’s working for a wealthy man who has holdings here, but he also wanted a chance to see me. I’m his only close family left in England.” He was trying to focus on the topic at hand, but his interview with the Baron hung over him like a dark cloud. “Verner, we need to talk.”

  The other barrister stopped rearranging the papers on his desk and looked down, not meeting Theo’s gaze. “Theodore…”

  “You knew this day would come. I can’t drag your name through the mud any longer. Connection with me is social and business suicide. You have to break away, Verner. And since I know you well enough to know you won’t do that yourself, I will have to do it for you.”

  “This is foolishness.”

  Theo shook his head and started gathering the last of his papers from his desk. “I’ll leave the Duke’s case with you. You’re a worthy opponent—don’t let him get off without taking a pound of his flesh.”

  Verner fell silent, looking at his long-time friend. Theo shrugged.

  “I should have done this sooner,” he said. “That’s my only regret.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Verner stood and reached out a hand to his friend. “I wish you the best, Pendleton.”

  Theo gathered his things, leaving behind most of the documents and barrister requirements for Verner to use going forward. He looked around the room, his heart aching as he realized it would be the last time he gazed on all that he had built. He put on his hat and overcoat, and started out the door. Verner stopped him before he left.

  “You’ve lost everything,” Verner said quietly. “Why not go after that girl?”

  Theo looked at him in disbelief. “Mrs. Hartley?”

  “Yes. What else do you have to lose?”

  Theo looked back at his friend with a steady gaze. “I already went after her, back when I had everything to lose. She thought the cost was too high.”