Brides of London: Regency Romance Collection

by Alec, Joyce

  Her heart ached painfully as she rose from her chair, seeing that the time was short.

  “Miss Preston,” Oliver said, also trying to rise but appearing still a little unsteady. “Miss Preston, I have not told you this in order to bring you pain but rather to show you that the danger is not yet passed. You must remain here, so that you can be protected.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing her tears back. “I understand very well, Mr. Grieves,” she told him, her voice tremulous. “I well understand the danger.”

  “Someone is looking for you,” he said gravely, sitting back in his chair but with his hands gripping the arms of it. “I fear it is the very same person who sought to rid you of your life by hitting you that night at the docks. Mayhap they fear that you still live, Miss Preston, and that is why they were so desperate in their attempts to seek the truth from me. Please, Miss Preston, do not fear that you shall be in any danger, however. You know very well that my brother will do all he can to protect you.”

  I do know that, Henrietta wanted to say, and it is for that reason alone that I must leave this place.

  “I thank you,” she answered, stammering just a little as she fought to find a way to tell him that he would not see her again without making her intentions obvious. “You have been very kind to me, Mr. Grieves. You have shown concern and compassion to someone that you have never had any knowledge of before and for that, I am profoundly grateful.”

  “I think I should thank you also,” he said, surprising her. “When my brother appeared with you in his arms, I think something in my world shifted. I realized that I was involving myself in a world that was cruel and dark in so many ways. I will confess to you, Miss Preston, that I often lost my head when it came to liquor and to gambling. I took advantage of my brother’s good nature and sought him out to help me pay for my debts when I could not. This was on top of his other kindness to me.” He shook his head, his lips thinning as he reflected on his past behavior. “But upon seeing you and hearing my brother state that he would not pull me from my troubles again, I confess that I had to consider what it was that I was doing with my life. My brother has been very good to me. His only concern was that I should make a successful life for myself, and instead, I have been selfish and ignorant. But no longer.” He smiled at her and Henrietta managed to smile in return, even though it did not quite reach her eyes. “Your presence here and my brother’s devotion to you has shown me the sort of gentleman I wish to be, Miss Preston. I do hope you know just how much regard my brother has for you.” This last sentence was said with a slight flicker of Mr. Grieves’ eyes, as though he were trying to communicate more to her than he could easily say.

  Henrietta’s heart broke. “Yes, I know it,” she answered, turning away from him and walking towards the door, so that he could not see her sorrowful face. “Lord Carrick has been one of the kindest gentlemen that I have ever had the chance to meet, Mr. Grieves. I am grateful for all the compassion he has shown me, the risks he has accepted in having me reside at his house, his generosity of spirit, and the friendship that has arisen during my time here. I feel more for him than I believe I have felt for anyone before.” Keeping her face turned away so that he could not see the agonized expression on her face, Henrietta opened the door and tried to inject some lightness into her voice. “I have found more here than I ever expected,” she finished, knowing that this was her way of saying goodbye to Mr. Grieves. “And I do not think I shall ever forget it.”

  * * *

  Leaving the house was not as difficult as Henrietta had expected. She did not have much to take with her, given that the gowns and clothes, which Lord Carrick had secured for her, were not hers to take. She did, however, take the cloak he had provided her, grateful that it was dry and warm again after last evening’s difficulties with Mr. Grieves. Pulling it carefully over her bonnet and praying that no one would see her, she stepped out of the townhouse and, with a small basket in her hand, hurried down the street.

  Every step brought a fresh agony. All she wanted to do was turn around and return to Lord Carrick. Every moment she was away from him burned on her skin, sending fear and heat up into her heart.

  And yet, Henrietta knew she had no other choice. She could not allow the danger that surrounded her to touch Lord Carrick or Mr. Grieves again. This situation involved her and her alone. There was no reason for them to be involved, and after what had happened to Mr. Grieves, she could not bear to imagine what might befall Lord Carrick should someone discover that it was he who had kept her under his roof.

  Forcing one foot in front of the other and not pausing to wipe the tears from her cheeks, Henrietta continued to walk down the street and away from Lord Carrick’s townhouse. She only had one choice—to return to her parents’ estate in the hope that they would be willing to at least let her stand on the threshold and explain. If they did not, if they believed her to be utterly ruined and entirely culpable for whatever had occurred to her, then she did not know what she would do. Perhaps seek out Lady Ancrum and beg for her help in finding a situation. She had not much experience of children but surely being a governess would not be all too difficult? Her heart sank to her toes as she tried to think of a life without Lord Carrick, a life which he would never again be a part of. She would not be able to speak to him daily, nor converse with him. Never again would she hear his voice reading through the next few pages of the book, gentle and yet filled with all manner of feeling. That had gone from her the moment she had decided to step out of Lord Carrick’s home for good.

  Her tears flowed unabated as she continued to walk, her head down low and her vision blurred. This was almost like grief, mourning for the love that she would have to now bury deep within herself and trying to forget what might have been between herself and Lord Carrick. Sniffing, she paused to pull out a handkerchief from her pocket, dabbing at her eyes and wiping her cheeks. There would be time for tears, a time to cry without ceasing until there was nothing left within her, but now was not that time. She had to remain as focused as she could. She had to find a way to return to her parents’ estate without delay.

  “Do be careful!”

  An angry, hard voice erupted from a gentleman as he collided heavily with her. His shoulder slammed into hers, making her stagger back in an attempt to keep her balance.

  “What do you think you are doing, standing in the middle of the street like that?” the man shouted as Henrietta dropped her head, feeling shame creep up her spine and send a flurry of heat into her face. “You might have been knocked into the carriages! You foolish creature.” He snarled one or two things more before turning around and stalking away, leaving Henrietta breathing hard as she tried to compose herself.

  And then, a realization began to descend on her. It turned her skin to ice, her breathing ragged as a weakness shook her limbs. She had known that voice. She had recognized it, but it was only now, now that he had left her, that she finally realized who it was.

  She could not move, rooted to the spot by a sudden fear. It could not be, surely? But then, why would he be here in London? Why would he have returned to London when he had no reason to? There was no hope for him, as she had told him on a previous occasion, which meant he could not be here in order to seek her out. Slowly, she turned her head, trying to keep herself as inconspicuous as possible. Her heart leapt in her chest as she saw him climb the steps to Lord Carrick’s townhouse and knock politely.

  The butler answered it, hesitated, and then shook his head. Even from where she stood, Henrietta could see that the man was angry. Angry that he was not being permitted to enter, most likely. Her heart quickened with fear as the door closed and the man turned away again, his face a deep, scarlet red.

  Hurriedly, she tugged the hood of her cloak over her bonnet again, pulling it so that it would hide her face. Keeping her head low, she began to hurry forward again, not knowing where she was going or what she was going to do. There was only one thing on her mind—removing herself from her cou
sin, the ugly and cruel Mr. Statton, who she was certain had nothing but dark intentions for her. Praying that he would not make the same realization as she, Henrietta continued to hurry forward—only for someone to grasp at her shoulder.

  With a shriek, she turned around and made to hit the man holding her, but his grip was much too strong. With a cry of pain as his hand tightened, she tried to escape from Mr. Statton’s hand, but he only grasped her arm with his other hand.

  “It took me some moments before I realized who you were,” he breathed, leaning close to her as his putrid breath washed over her face. “You were trying to run from me.” He chuckled as she struggled against him, aware that she was drawing attention and praying that, somehow, even though they were a little distance from Lord Carrick’s home, someone would see what was occurring. “I was just trying to meet with him, you know, to ascertain whether or not you were within the house, but it seems you have decided to appear regardless and ensure that my search has not been in vain!”

  “Unhand me!” Henrietta cried, pushing him away with all her might, only for his fingers to dig in all the more. “Leave me be, Statton!”

  “I hardly think so,” he hissed, leaning over her, his dark eyes narrowing. “Lord Carrick might have been fortunate enough to save his brother last evening, but I doubt he will be able to save himself from a well-placed knife that might find its way towards his heart one dark night.” He chuckled as she went still, shaking violently at the malevolence in his eyes. “Now, you are to come with me, Miss Preston, and you are not to make another sound.”

  A vision of Lord Carrick floated before her, pushing away the darkness that swirled about Mr. Statton. Lord Carrick had promised to protect her. He had told her that he loved her, that his affections were growing stronger with each passing day. And now here stood Mr. Statton, the very antithesis of all that Lord Carrick was and could be to her. If she obeyed Mr. Statton out of fear, then could she be quite certain that he would, in fact, leave Lord Carrick alone? What would become of her if she went with him? Another tremor ran through her as she thought of the dark night she had been down at the docks, of the pain that had run through her from the very first moment that she had awoken thereafter. Something within her knew that it had been Mr. Statton’s doing. Therefore, she decided, she could not trust his word, could not trust him to do as he had said.

  “No!” With all the strength she could muster, she pushed and shoved him as hard as she could, surprising him with her efforts and sending him a little off balance. Her cloak’s ties slipped and she managed to wrench first one hand away and then then other, running from him and leaving her cloak behind in his hand.

  “Henrietta!”

  Statton’s voice was loud and angry, practically filling the street as she ran, headlong, toward the only refuge she had. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps, every part of her on fire with the effort of escaping from Mr. Statton. It felt as though his running feet were just behind her and she expected to feel his grasp on her arms at any moment as her bonnet fell back, caught around her neck by the ribbons.

  She screamed as his hand caught her, kicking out as best she could and making him shout with either frustration or pain.

  And then, something cracked hard across her face, making her fall back. His hand had struck out at her, leaving her in a daze as his hands gripped her arms again. Everything seemed to slow, for she could not see nor hear clearly, such was the pain that ran through her.

  “Get in the hackney, Henrietta,” Mr. Statton grated, his voice brooking no argument. “Now.”

  She did not go with him willingly, her feet refusing to move as she tried to find the strength to fight him.

  “No,” she whispered, her fingers clawing at his as she prayed for deliverance. “No, I will not go.”

  “You will,” he said angrily. “Else it will be all the worse for you.”

  And then, miraculously, she heard the voice of her beloved reaching her. Mr. Statton staggered back and was about to pull her down with him, only for a strong grip to tug her free from her attacker. Lord Carrick’s hands went about her, holding her close and reassuring her that she was no longer in any danger.

  “What is the meaning of this?” he shouted as she blinked rapidly, trying to see clearly once more. “What are you doing to my betrothed?” Pulled tightly into the safety of his arms, Henrietta finally managed to see what was occurring. Lord Ancrum and one or two of the footmen now had Mr. Statton in their grip and had pulled him back completely from Henrietta. She was held tightly in Lord Carrick’s embrace, her head resting against his shoulder as her eyes remained fixed upon her cousin.

  “Henrietta,” Lord Carrick said urgently, gesturing to Mr. Statton with one hand. “Do you know this man?”

  She nodded, sagging against him in relief. “He is my cousin,” she whispered, looking up at him and seeing the shock in his eyes. “I do not know why he is here but I know that he was the one to injure Mr. Grieves.”

  A look of anger ran across Lord Carrick’s expression. His hand tightened about her shoulders as he gestured furiously towards the door. “Take him inside at once,” he growled. “And bind his hands. I will not have him gone from this house until a full explanation is made.”

  “And have someone send for my wife,” Lord Ancrum instructed the butler, who had come hurrying out to aid either Lord Carrick or Henrietta. “She left earlier this morning to collect a few things from home but she will need to return at once.”

  “But of course,” the butler said, looking quite shocked by all that had occurred but still behaving with all propriety. “Some sweet tea, Lord Carrick? For the lady?”

  Lord Carrick nodded as he led Henrietta inside. “And brandy,” he requested, helping her up the steps. “My dear Henrietta, what was it you were thinking of?” The moment the door had closed behind them, with Lord Ancrum and the footmen leading Mr. Statton away, he turned to her and pulled her into his embrace. “Where were you going?”

  “I was afraid,” she whispered, her eyes closing tightly against the swell of tears. “I was afraid that you would be harmed, my love. I could not bear it.”

  “And so you thought to leave in order to protect me,” he said, his chest rumbling as he held her close. “Oh, my dear sweet lady! Can you not see that I would walk through fire for you?” Grasping her shoulders lightly, he looked down at her with nothing but love burning in his eyes. “I would do anything for you, Henrietta, even if it meant enduring the worst of torments. Do not leave me again, my darling. I could not bear it.” His eyes closed, his mouth in a thin, tight line for a moment. “When I saw you being pulled towards the hackney, my fear was so great that for a moment, I could not move.” Opening his eyes, he leaned down and kissed her forehead tenderly. “I cannot even dare to think of what my life would be like without you, Henrietta. To have no knowledge of where you had gone or what had become of you would have been the worst sort of agony.”

  “I am safe now,” she whispered, leaning against him and thinking that she might never let him go. “And I believe that somehow, Statton is the one who has orchestrated everything, although I do not quite understand why.”

  “Nor do I,” he answered grimly. “Although we shall, I am quite certain, come to discover it.” Setting her back, he looked into her face again, his eyes filled with concern. “Do you think you shall manage such a conversation, Henrietta? Or should you prefer to rest?”

  Now that she was back in his house and safe in his arms, Henrietta knew she had nothing to fear. A new strength filled her and she looked back at him steadily. “I shall hear the explanation from him,” she told Lord Carrick, seeing how he smiled at her. “And I shall do it sitting by your side, for there I know I am safe.”

  “Indeed you are,” he whispered, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips for just a moment, before turning and leading her towards the drawing room.

  12

  The horror that had overtaken him when he had seen Miss Preston—or Henrietta, as she was to h
im now— being dragged towards a hackney by a gentleman he did not know had still not fully left James by the time he led her into the drawing room. The shock of it was still running through his veins, forcing him to concentrate on breathing at an even pace, his fingers tightening on Henrietta’s as they walked in together.

  It had only been by chance that he had looked out of the window, smiling to himself at what had felt like one of the happiest days of his life. He was to marry Miss Preston, she had accepted him, and all was well with the world. How much things had changed in that one moment! He had seen someone running towards the house—and it had seemed to be a young woman from the way her skirts had been flying. When he had realized that it was none other than his own dear Henrietta, he had found himself fixed with fear, utterly horrified when the man had caught her and struck her, hard.

  That had been what had sent life back into his limbs. Lord Ancrum had come into the study just as he had run, full pelt, towards the door and, uncertain as to what was occurring but willing to go along with James nonetheless, Lord Ancrum had rushed out of the house after him, bringing two footmen to aid him also.

  Miss Preston had been fighting to get away from the man who was shoving her in the direction of a hackney, and before he had known what he was doing, he had planted the gentleman a facer and had practically knocked him to the ground. Miss Preston had almost gone with him, had it not been for James’ reaching for her. He had held her as though he would never let her go, afraid for what might have occurred had he been but a minute later.

  And now, discovering that this gentleman was not only known to Henrietta, but was, in fact, her cousin, was all the more astonishing. Henrietta sat down carefully on the couch opposite Mr. Statton, whilst James chose to remain standing beside her. He said nothing but waited for the maids to bring in the trays of sweet tea and brandy, setting them down carefully with each maid sending an uncertain glance in the direction of Mr. Statton.