Hopes and Brides: Regency and Mail Order Bride Historical Romance Collection

by Joyce Alec

  Henrietta barely nodded, her mind working over and over what Lord Carrick had revealed. She had no other choice but to remain here, for she did not know what awaited her back at her father’s estate. She did not understand why her mother had departed from London so quickly, or why she had not sought Henrietta out. It was all too much to bear, and even though she tried to keep her tears at bay, fought to keep her composure in front of Lord Carrick, it all became overwhelming. Her shoulders shook as sobs escaped from her, her head aching terribly all over again as she gave in to her sadness, confusion, and doubt.

  6

  James waited until Miss Preston had been encouraged to lie down before making to quit the room. His heart ached for her, his mind trying to work through the tangled knots of why her mother had departed London without her daughter. It did not make any sense, for no young lady of quality would ever be left behind by their parents.

  “Wait, Lord Carrick.”

  He turned his head, just as he was about to step through the door, to see Miss Preston’s eyes fixed upon his.

  “I shall tell you what occurred,” she stated, her eyes red but free from tears.

  “No, Miss Preston,” he replied, making his way back to her. “I think you should rest.”

  She shook her head, wincing as she did so. “No,” she said, leaning back against the pillows as she sat up a little more. “I must tell you everything and thereafter, I shall rest.” She took in a long breath and closed her eyes, the pain etched into every line on her face. Despite the warnings in his mind that he ought to leave her to sleep, James sat down carefully in the chair by the bed and placed one hand over hers. She did not jerk nor move away, nor did she even open her eyes for him. Instead, she simply sighed and squeezed his fingers gently. James’ heart quickened but he ignored it entirely, knowing full well that he ought not to react in any way towards this young lady aside from in a protective, concerned fashion. And yet, it seemed quite right to take her hand in his, to offer her that support and to feel how she accepted it without hesitation.

  “My mother took me home from Lady Whitaker’s ball,” Miss Preston began, her eyes still closed and her breathing shallow. “She had not thought to stay, for she wanted to return in order to play cards with some of her acquaintances.” A slight flicker of dismay crossed her face. “My mother does not trust me, Lord Carrick, although I think I shall spare myself the embarrassment of having to explain why.”

  “Indeed, there is no reason to do so,” he said at once, ignoring how his interest was piqued, for surely Miss Preston could have done nothing so terrible so as to make her mother fear for her safety. “Continue, Miss Preston.”

  Miss Preston’s eyes opened and fastened upon his, her expression one that spoke of anxiety and fright. “I returned home and made to retire, only my mind was much too caught up with various matters. I had some warm milk and tried to read, but it was to no avail. I thought to send for my maid to help me change into my nightclothes, only to receive a note.”

  “A note?” he repeated, frowning. “Do you mean to say that someone wrote to you?”

  She nodded slowly, although her eyes were clouded. “I do not understand how someone could have made their way into the household and put such a note under my door without being seen, but it was done so regardless.” Quickly, she told him the contents of the note and James felt his alarm begin to grow steadily.

  “I did not know what to do,” she said softly, looking away from him as her lips trembled. “The staff were entirely absent, for they had, of course, retired to bed and I did not want to disobey the instructions for fear that my mother would bear the consequences.”

  “So you went in search of the rubies and—”

  “And found them, yes,” Miss Preston interrupted, not quite looking at him. “I took them to the docks and placed them where they were meant to go. When I made my way back, in the hope of finding another hackney and returning home, I presume that someone hit me from behind, although I do not recall it.”

  A chill ran over James’ skin as he looked into Miss Preston’s white face and wondered if the reason she had been attacked had been solely to try and take her life from her. He could not understand why else she would have been knocked out in such a way, for if she had done what the note had instructed and had brought the rubies, then surely there was no need for her to be so treated. She could not see anyone in the darkness, and yet someone had planned to hit her so hard that she would lose consciousness. Had they hoped that the blow would kill her? And if it did not, that being left for hours on the cold, wet cobbles of the docks would take the last of her life from her?

  “And now I do not know what to think,” Miss Preston finished quietly, looking away from him. “My mother is gone to my father’s estate, it seems, without question as to where I might be. I thought she would not be safe, that she feared for her life, and yet it appears that my fears have come to naught.”

  “It may be that she has received a note such as the one you received,” he said thoughtfully, trying to come up with a reason for her mother having behaved in such a fashion. “Mayhap she is trying to save your life in the way that you sought to save hers.”

  Miss Preston pressed her head back against the pillow and closed her eyes again, and James saw a single tear escape from under her closed lashes. Resisting the urge to reach up and brush it away, he satisfied the desire to comfort her by pressing her hand a little more tightly. She returned the pressure but did not look at him, keeping her eyes closed.

  “Thank you for telling me, Miss Preston,” he said sincerely, aware of how his thoughts tangled into each other, banging together in a deeply confusing fashion. “I cannot understand what has occurred, but I am determined to see it through until there is a satisfactory conclusion reached.” He pressed her hand again. “And you will not have to fear about your reputation, Miss Preston. No one aside from my brother knows you are here.”

  “And the rest think I am returned to my father’s estate,” Miss Preston added sadly, sniffing delicately. “Thank you, Lord Carrick, you are very kind.”

  James had nothing else to say to this and so, after a moment or two, reluctantly let go of her hand and made his way from the room, turning his head to give her one last, long look before he did so. The maid had thrown a blanket over Miss Preston and was tucking it around her. Miss Preston’s head was turned a little to the left, her lines of fatigue and sorrow miraculously faded by the gentle protection of sleep. His heart began to ache for her, and he wondered what she must be experiencing and how she could have the strength to speak of it to him.

  She must have a strong character indeed, he thought to himself, wondering if there was any other young lady of his acquaintance who would have had the courage to step out of their house in the middle of the night to bring rubies to the docks in order to ensure their parent’s safety. She must have been deathly afraid and yet had the fortitude to do precisely what was required.

  Shaking his head, James made his way quietly and slowly back down the staircase towards his study, not quite certain what he ought to do next. He wanted to help Miss Preston in any way he could, but what was it he should do? What was it that she needed to discover? Answers? What sort of answers?

  “Brother.”

  Looking up, he saw his younger brother walking along the passageway towards him, seeing the same flicker of concern in Oliver’s expression.

  “How does the lady fare?” Oliver asked quietly. “Has she recovered?”

  “She does,” James answered quickly. “But there is a good deal more to her story than first appears, brother. In short, I am quite at a loss as to what to do.” Briefly, he told his brother everything as they walked along towards the drawing room, with Oliver looking more and more concerned.

  “Good gracious!” Oliver muttered, when James had finished his story. “That young lady has more courage within her than any gentleman I know, that is for certain.”

  “Indeed,” James replied with a small smile, wh
ich quickly faded. “But she cannot be strong forever. I must do something to help but, in short, I do not know what I should do next.”

  Oliver shrugged. “Find some acquaintances of Miss Preston who might be able to help you,” he suggested as James opened the door to the drawing room. “This is not something you can tackle alone, I fear.”

  James shook his head. “But what if they are involved in some nefarious way?”

  This made Oliver hesitate.

  “I must ensure the safety of both herself and her reputation,” James continued fervently. “The only people I would tell of her presence here would be the very best of friends, the closest of acquaintances and, as yet, I do not know if she has any at all.”

  “Then ask her,” Oliver proposed, draping himself into a chair and looking lazily about the room. “And why do you not write to Lord Cuthbert, enquiring after his daughter? You should state that you were briefly acquainted with her and wished to further your acquaintance all the more, but can no longer find her in London.”

  A slowly dawning light crept into James’ mind, seeing wisdom in his brother’s idea. “There will be some explanation as to where she is gone,” he said, seeing Oliver nod. “Although what if he states that she is back at the estate with her mother?”

  Oliver shrugged again. “Make it very clear in your letter that you wish to see her again and would be glad to call upon her at the estate, should that become necessary,” he told James. “That will ensure that Lord Cuthbert will tell you as much of the truth as he is able, I think.”

  James nodded again, his teeth catching his bottom lip as he considered the suggestion. “Indeed,” he said softly, thinking that this sounded like a rather good idea. “Thank you, Oliver. That is undoubtedly a wise idea.”

  “And,” Oliver continued, now looking a little embarrassed as he shifted in his chair, “I must tell you that I have decided to quit London.”

  James’ head shot up.

  “That is, once matters with Miss Preston have been resolved,” Oliver corrected hastily. “I would not leave you to deal with this alone, brother. But after what has occurred, and now that I realize just how foolish my behavior has been of late, I have decided to return to my home and to make the best of what I have there.” He cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter, showing James that there was a little more maturity about him than before. “You paid a great debt for me, Carrick, and I will not forget it—nor can I continue on as before. You have said that this was to be the last time and I am glad that you have made such a decision. It has forced me to consider my behavior and to change it from what it was.”

  “I am glad to hear this,” James declared, seeing how his brother nodded in a most decisive fashion. “Your estate will do very well if you would only put significant time into it.”

  “Which I shall do,” Oliver replied firmly. “And I will return to London next Season with the sole intention of taking a wife.” He grinned at James’ astonished expression, his eyes twinkling. “It is necessary, is it not?” he asked, as James tried to rearrange his face into something less astounded. “I have to produce children and the like and I can only do so with a pleasing young wife.”

  “That is very true,” James agreed, feeling a slight stab of guilt that he himself had not done such a thing and that his brother would be the first one of them to marry. “I congratulate you on your decision, brother.”

  Oliver chuckled and leaned forward, pinning James with a strong gaze. “And you, yourself? You will marry, will you not?”

  James cleared his throat, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable. “I—I could not say,” he replied with a shrug that was not as nonchalant as he had hoped. “My dear brother, I have enough to consider at the present without worrying about whom I might marry.”

  Oliver’s brows rose. “You do not think that Miss Preston might make you a suitable wife?” he asked quietly, making James’ heart leap in his chest. “She is, after all, the daughter of a viscount.” He tipped his head, but James shook his head.

  “She is only residing in my house because there is nowhere else for her to go,” he said, spreading his hands and ignoring the fact that he found himself quite taken with the lady when he ought not to be thinking of anything but trying to discover the truth about what had occurred. “That is all.”

  “But she is genteel,” Oliver pressed, a small smile playing about his mouth. “And she may very well require a husband, Carrick. Why should it not be you?”

  James opened his mouth to answer, but no response came out. Oliver chuckled, making James wince ruefully as he tried to brush off the question and turn his attention to other things.

  “I should write that letter,” he said, getting up and ignoring how his brother laughed a little more loudly. “To Lord Cuthbert, I mean.”

  “Indeed, you should,” Oliver agreed as James fought back the rising heat that threatened to come into his cheeks. “And thereafter, you must speak to Miss Preston again and discover if she has any acquaintances who might be trusted enough to help.” The smile was gone from his face, the laughter fading from his voice. “This is a serious matter, Carrick. I will do whatever I can to help.”

  James turned to his brother, considering things carefully. “Thank you,” he said eventually, wondering what response he would receive from his letter. “I must do all I can to help Miss Preston and I am certain I shall need as much help as possible.”

  “Be assured of it,” Oliver replied, his hand on James’ shoulder. “I am here to do whatever is required, Carrick. Just say the word and I shall do it.”

  James nodded his thanks, feeling his heart lifting. “We shall discover the truth, I am certain of it,” he said firmly. “Come now, brother. Help me to write this letter and then I shall see if Miss Preston is awake and able to speak to me.”

  With the letter written and Oliver determined to have it delivered as soon as could be, James watched his brother leave with the letter safely entrusted to his care. It surprised him that Oliver was now appearing to be so decisive, so determined to help, as though it would make amends for what had gone before, but James had to admit that he was grateful for it. Sighing inwardly, he turned to climb the stairs, feeling his heart quicken at the thought of seeing Miss Preston again.

  As he climbed the staircase, his thoughts turned back to what his brother had said. Yes, Miss Preston would need a husband and he would need a wife, but that did not mean that they would satisfy each other’s desires in that way. For all he knew, she might be engaged to another, or have been courted by a gentleman who now did not know what had become of her.

  At that thought, James’ stomach dropped low, a heavy weight landing on his shoulders. Shrugging it off, he held his head high and settled his shoulders, reminding himself that the most important thing at the present was to discover the truth about what had occurred with Miss Preston and who was behind it. There was a deepening mystery here and he could not allow his strange feelings as regarded the lady to cloud his judgment.

  “Is she awake?”

  The maid sitting outside Miss Preston’s bedchamber looked up, scrambling to her feet at once from where she had been sitting.

  “My lord,” she stammered, her cheeks pink. “Yes, I believe Miss Preston is awake, my lord. It is only that she wanted a bit of time alone.”

  James smiled to reassure the maid. “Might you ask her if I could steal a few moments of her time?” he asked, not wanting to step inside just in case Miss Preston was not decent. “It would not take very long.”

  The maid nodded, dipped a curtsy, and hurried inside, closing the door behind her. A murmur of voices could be heard before she returned, keeping the door open wide and stepping to one side so that he could walk in. Taking it to mean that Miss Preston was more than willing to speak to him, James walked quickly inside and bowed before looking up. Miss Preston was lying back against her pillows, although he was concerned to see her looking paler than before.

  “Miss Preston,” he said q
uickly, coming closer to her as the maid returned to her seat, leaving the door ajar. “Are you unwell?”

  “I am just tired,” she replied, her eyes closing, but with an expression of pain on her face. “Whenever I sleep, nightmares catch me and I awake again in a matter of moments.”

  “I am sorry to hear that,” he said gently. “I come to ask you if you have any acquaintances that we might ask to come and join us in our search for the truth, Miss Preston.” He saw how her eyes flared open and quickly sought to reassure her. “It is only because I feel that we would be much quicker in discovering it should we have more than one person seeking it.”

  “Oh.” Miss Preston blinked slowly before closing her eyes again. “I have been away from London for almost two full Seasons,” she told him, surprising him by such a statement. “I have not made any firm acquaintances as yet.”

  “I see.” He cleared his throat a little gruffly, thinking that this was not the answer he had hoped for. “Then I—”

  “Wait!” Miss Preston’s eyes flew open abruptly, her countenance suddenly changed. “Wait a moment, Lord Carrick. There might be someone who would be willing to aid me, although…” She trailed off, now looking a little uncertain as a blush touched her cheeks. James, not knowing what else to do, simply stood quietly, waiting for her to speak. He did not know why she blushed, or what it was that made her appear so embarrassed, but silently he begged for her to finish so that they might benefit from some additional help.

  “If Lord and Lady Ancrum are in town, then you might speak to them,” Miss Preston said eventually, looking at him with a hint of unease in her expression. “Although I cannot state unequivocally that they will be willing to help.”

  He nodded, feeling a slight surge of hope. “That is very good, Miss Preston,” he told her, seeing how a flicker of a smile caught her expression. “I shall do so almost at once.” She closed her eyes again, and he felt the urge to help her rising within him. “But first, shall I remain here with you until you fall asleep? I do think that you need to rest and—” Catching sight of a small book by her bed, he picked it up and turned it over. “Might I read to you, Miss Preston? Would that aid you at all?”