Regency Wolfe: A de Wolfe Pack Connected World collection of Victorian and Regency Tales

by Mary Lancaster

  Marcus stared at the door as he tried to understand what went wrong. He closed his eyes, wondering if this was for the best.

  Chapter Nine

  Tessa rose early the next morning and gathered her meager possessions after having spent a sleepless night staring at the ceiling. Her heart ached so much that several times, she’d rubbed her chest to ease the pain. But it hadn’t helped.

  How could he have offered for her to be his mistress? Did he think her no better than that? Yet Marcus was not the only one with whom she was angry. She was equally at fault, for she’d allowed herself to hope they might have a future together.

  Apparently, Marcus’s vision of what that future looked like differed greatly from hers. She’d overestimated his feelings for her. The picture sitting on his desk in the library came to mind. Was that woman the reason he wouldn’t offer marriage? Or was it because of her simple background? No doubt there were expectations of who a man like him should marry. In no respect did she fit that ideal.

  She’d shed only a few tears during the night, mostly because her emotions felt frozen after their conversation. How could things have gone from so wonderful to so terrible in a few short minutes?

  With a sigh, she sat in the chair near the window to watch dawn’s light spread across the sky. She couldn’t possibly wake her aunt at this hour and request they leave. Perhaps the time spent waiting would present her with the answer as to how she should proceed with Marcus.

  A sob caught in her throat. There were so many things she liked about him. Or rather, loved about him. She might as well be honest with herself even though she hadn’t been brave enough to tell him. She doubted that would’ve changed anything. How she wished things had gone differently. That he’d offered her his heart rather than security. If someone had told her she’d choose love over security two weeks past, she would’ve laughed.

  But she couldn’t change how he felt about her. In truth, he’d given her some of the best days of her life, and for that, she was grateful. She’d do her best to remember that in the painful days ahead. And she knew they would be painful. Already her heart ached, making her want to return to the bed so she wouldn’t have to put on a brave front and pretend all was well when her world had fallen apart.

  Staying here, in his home, was not an option. She couldn’t bear it and hoped Aunt Betty would understand. Surely any danger had passed by now. They would have to consider speaking plainly with their apprentices as to what risk they all faced. They’d need to keep watch for anyone approaching the girls. And they’d have to hope that Culbert couldn’t reach them from prison. Marcus had said he’d have accomplices as he couldn’t have managed all this on his own. That idea frightened her, but she couldn’t live in fear. She refused to allow men like Culbert to have power over her.

  Her stomach had been tied in knots when she and Aunt Betty had gone downstairs for breakfast, but Marcus was not there. After breakfast, she managed to convince Aunt Betty the time had come to return home without presenting much of an explanation. Samuel had offered to see them safely there. Still Marcus was nowhere to be seen. Nor did she ask where he was. Perhaps it was better this way.

  She glanced at the bedroom in which she’d stayed one last time, imprinting the image before shutting the door firmly behind her. Surely the memories of her brief stay here would give her comfort in the months to come, although they would be bittersweet.

  The carriage ride home passed in silence. Aunt Betty’s watchful gaze weighed on her, but she feigned interest in the scenery, not yet ready for the questions her aunt would soon ask.

  Upon arrival, Samuel opened the carriage door, and she stepped out, staring at their shop with fresh eyes. The place was neat and tidy and perfectly appropriate for the quality of customers they served. But it lacked anything to set it apart from the other shops along the street.

  Was that the case with her as well? Nothing about her was special enough to hold Marcus’s affection? Was that why he’d only offered to share a small piece of his life with her? Doubt filled her, something she’d worked hard to overcome since that terrible day when she’d nearly been sold to pay for her father’s debts. Doubt that she deserved anything other than what fate had offered her thus far. Doubt that she was worth anything more than a few pounds and a shilling or two.

  “Posture,” Aunt Betty corrected as she touched Tessa’s back, making Tessa smile.

  How many times through the years had she told Tessa that? She’d learned much from her aunt about life. Tessa straightened immediately and shook off her dismal thoughts.

  “Thank you, Samuel.” Tessa smiled at the burly, kind footman. She would miss him too.

  “Will I be seeing you again soon, miss?” he asked.

  “I don’t believe so.” She had to clear her throat to keep her sadness at bay.

  The footman frowned. “But his lordship said we would be keeping an eye on things for you.”

  “That’s no longer necessary.”

  The man looked anything but pleased. “I’ll carry your bags upstairs.”

  She unlocked the shop and Samuel held open the door for them. He followed them up the stairs to their apartment.

  “It’s always good to be home, isn’t it?” she asked Aunt Betty as she moved to look out the window. When her aunt didn’t respond, she didn’t have the energy to inquire as to why.

  Instead, she turned to Samuel and couldn’t resist giving his arm a squeeze. “Take care of yourself, Samuel. And of his lordship.”

  “If you’ll do the same, miss. You as well, Mrs. Davison.”

  “Thank you, Samuel,” her aunt said with a smile.

  Tessa followed him downstairs to lock the shop door behind him.

  “Shall I put on some tea?” Aunt Betty asked as Tessa entered the apartment again. “Perhaps then you can tell me what has happened.”

  “What do you mean?” Tessa asked.

  “I might be old, but I’m not dim.”

  “I don’t think you’re either of those.”

  “Anyone with eyes could see the attraction between you and his lordship. What happened?”

  Tears threatened as Tessa sat at their tiny table. “He asked me to become his mistress.”

  “Oh, dear.” Her aunt sat in the opposite chair and took Tessa’s hand in hers. “And you refused?”

  “What choice did I have? I couldn’t live like that. Only able to see him once every few months until he finally marries and forgets about me. It would break my heart.”

  “Why?” The question surprised her.

  “Because I love him. It might be greedy of me, but I want more. Being his mistress is not enough. While I know I am merely a seamstress and he is an earl—”

  “No one would hold that against you. I certainly don’t think his lordship does.”

  “Then what is it? Do I lack something?” Tears tracked down her cheeks, and she wiped them away impatiently. “I thought we were happy together.”

  Aunt Betty filled their cups and sat beside Tessa again before responding. “I had a long visit with the housekeeper. Did his lordship tell you he used to be married?”

  “No.” The woman in the picture on his desk immediately came to mind. And that moment in the carriage when she’d sensed his hesitation when she’d asked. “Though I did wonder.”

  “They were childhood friends. It sounds as if they cared deeply for each other. But she fell ill when she was expecting. He lost both her and the babe nearly three years ago.”

  “That’s terrible.” Tessa couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, though she knew he’d hate that.

  “You’re the first person to capture his interest since then, according to what Samuel told her. Apparently, the footman and his family have served the family for generations. He’s very protective of the earl.”

  “I noticed that.”

  “Did you also know that Samuel is convinced you and the earl are fated to be together?”

  Tessa gave a shaky smile. “No.”

&nbs
p; “His lordship told Samuel his own Lady Jordan saved him when the footman found him in the alley. I would guess that must’ve been quite the moment—when he thought you were his angel just like the story passed down through the generations.” Aunt Betty watched her over the rim of her teacup.

  “At the time, he was severely injured. He wasn’t thinking clearly.” Tessa felt compelled to protest.

  “All the more reason it was a shock to see you appear before him.”

  Tessa pushed aside her tea. “What are you suggesting?”

  “Maybe fate truly has brought you together. Perhaps the reason has not yet been revealed. Did you tell him how you feel?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I…” Tessa hesitated. Why hadn’t she? “Because I’m afraid he doesn’t feel the same way.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Because I’m afraid to risk trusting someone else with my heart.”

  Aunt Betty reached for her hand. “I can only assume you’re thinking of your father. I understand why his poor behavior has shaded your view of people, men in particular. But if you don’t take a risk and declare your love, aren’t you allowing your father to steal your happiness once again?”

  Tessa wiped away her tears, but more took their place. “Obviously, Marcus doesn’t love me.”

  “From what little I’ve learned of his past, I would guess he either doesn’t believe he’s capable of loving someone or he doesn’t want to take the risk of losing a loved one again.”

  Tessa’s heart pounded. “Who am I to try to convince him? I’m a seamstress, not an heiress, not a member of the ton. I don’t belong to his world.”

  “It sounds as if he comes from a long line of unions just like that. After all, his thirteenth-century grandfather was an English knight who married a Scottish bride. I don’t suppose she felt as though she belonged when she entered his world either.”

  “Our situation isn’t anything like that romantic tale.”

  “If Lady Jordan were here, I have to surmise she’d tell us she didn’t think her own story was romantic at the time.”

  “Are you suggesting I go to Marcus and declare my feelings?” The idea terrified Tessa. She could picture him turning away all too easily, leaving her in tatters. She didn’t think she was strong enough to endure that.

  Aunt Betty leaned forward. “True love is worth taking risks. It’s worth fighting for. Few are lucky enough to experience it. It’s a gift not to be taken lightly.” She stood and hugged Tessa. “This decision must be yours, and yours alone. Just be sure that if you decide walking away is best, you won’t spend your future living in regret. I’ll be in the shop if you need me.”

  Tessa remained where she was for a long while, clutching her cup of tea, which had now gone cold.

  Did she dare take such a risk?

  Marcus stared at the list of three names on the paper before him as he sat at his desk. A vague image of each woman came to mind, but none erased the one of Tessa. He thought he’d narrowed down the list so carefully over the short time he’d been in London. Yet how could he possibly pick a wife from this list when the one he truly desired was not among them?

  His gaze lifted to the small framed picture of Mary he kept on his desk. He missed her still, and he didn’t think that feeling would ever go away. Nor did he want it to. Forgetting her was impossible.

  But he was beginning to wonder if it might be possible to honor her memory and still find happiness. Tessa’s departure had hurt far more than he anticipated. He’d been angry at her refusal at first, but that anger hadn’t lasted. Not when he remembered the hurt on her face. He wasn’t certain he could give her what he thought she wanted, what she deserved.

  The sound of someone clearing his throat had Marcus glancing up. Samuel stood at the library doorway, hands clasped before him, looking unusually somber.

  “What is it?” Marcus asked.

  Samuel walked forward to stand before his desk. “I wanted you to know Miss Maycroft and her aunt arrived safely at their shop.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What do you intend to do?”

  The question was impertinent for a footman, but Samuel was hardly a mere footman. Even though Marcus knew he asked it out of concern, it still annoyed him because he didn’t know the answer. The indecision that gripped him was unfamiliar and most unwelcome.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted at last as he dropped the list to his desk. No amount of imagination put any of those women with him in the coming days, let alone a year or two from now. He just couldn’t see any of them becoming a part of his life, even in a marriage of convenience.

  “I know ’tis not my place,” Samuel began.

  Marcus nearly groaned, for any time the man started with that, it ended with something Marcus had no wish to hear.

  “But I like her. I thought she made you happy.”

  As Marcus opened his mouth to respond, Samuel held up his hand to stop him.

  “I know ’tis only a coincidence that she has the same coloring as Lady Jordan or that she happened upon you when you needed help. But Miss Maycroft is an unusual lady. She deserves happiness, and I don’t think she’s used to having it. If you don’t think you can make her happy, then it’s better that she left.”

  The footman paused, casting a glance at the picture of Mary. “I don’t think the countess would want you to spend the rest of your days alone. As much as Miss Maycroft deserves happiness, you do too.”

  Marcus closed his eyes for a moment, uncertain what to say.

  “Just something to think about,” Samuel added. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you have need of me.”

  When Marcus opened his eyes again, the room was empty. Yet Samuel’s question rang in his ears.

  What do you intend to do?

  Chapter Ten

  The next afternoon, Marcus strode across the dock toward his ship with Samuel at his side. Sometime, in the middle of the night, he’d come to a decision. But before he proceeded with it, he needed to resolve this matter.

  The police inspector he’d spoken with shortly after Culbert’s arrest had agreed to meet him nearby with several officers to search his ship for the “illegal cargo.” The ship was due to leave in a few short hours. Marcus assumed the captain had the girls on board. With no other proof to present to the police, showing them the evidence was his only hope. Culbert certainly wasn’t confessing anything from what the police inspector had said.

  A man with a limp walked past him, and the familiar face had Marcus reaching out to take his arm. “Hawke? Is that you?”

  Nathaniel Hawke glanced at him, his blue eyes vivid in his sun-darkened face. “Warenton, it’s been a long time,” he said with a smile and a slap on his back. “What brings you here from the wilds of Northumberland? I thought you avoided leaving Wolfe’s Lair when possible.”

  “Certain occasions call for it.”

  “I was terribly sorry to hear about your wife. I was on foreign shores when I learned of it, or I would’ve paid a visit.”

  “Thank you. I received your letters.”

  “And I received yours as well.”

  Hawke had written off and on over the years. His letters were always entertaining, filled with descriptions of the exotic places he visited but never any personal information about himself.

  Marcus knew him well enough to read between the lines. They’d attended university together and become good friends. As a second son, Hawke had joined the Navy partly to escape his father and partly to be of service to his country. His father’s poor treatment of him bordered on abuse, in Marcus’s opinion. But Hawke had seemed to rise above it.

  “Civilian clothes?” Marcus asked as he looked him up and down, noting the cane he held.

  “Injured and discharged,” he said with little emotion as he gestured toward his leg. “Time for new adventures closer to home.”

  Marcus glanced at Samuel before turning back to Hawke. “Speaking of new adventures, I don’t suppose yo
u have a few minutes to aid us?” Having someone like Hawke at his side in case things went wrong would be reassuring.

  “Of course. I just paid a visit to one of my men who is shipping out today. What do you need?”

  “Allow me to share with you what has happened thus far.” He clapped his friend on the back, pleased to have run into him.

  Tessa walked along the dock, searching for Marcus. She’d ventured to his home only to be told he was here, seeing to his ship. While she could’ve waited at his house for his return, she’d decided against it. In truth, she feared she might lose her nerve if she waited any longer. She had to speak with him before what little courage she had failed her.

  With Culbert in prison and nothing untoward happening, she felt it safe to venture to the dock, especially when she knew Marcus was there.

  She looked for his tall form everywhere but didn’t see him. She approached his steamship, resolved to find him near there.

  Several men carried goods onto the ship. Large wooden crates were being hoisted on board at the far end. She had no intention of boarding but hoped to catch sight of him from the dock.

  While she searched, she rehearsed what she would say and how she would say it. Part of her worried what she had to tell him would make no difference. Though tempted to agree to become his mistress and hope that in time, he might grow to care for her, she refused to settle for such a small part of him. She knew such an arrangement would never make her happy. Therefore, it wouldn’t make him happy either.

  “Who do we have here?”

  She turned to find Culbert standing directly behind her, his knife pointed at her. Fear froze her to the spot.

  “Who is that boarding your ship?” Hawke asked.

  Marcus turned to see a tall man who resembled Culbert escorting a woman onboard. Despite only seeing the woman’s cloak and hat, there was no denying her identity.

  “Tessa.” Marcus rushed forward only to have Hawke take hold of his arm.