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

by Joyce Alec

  Her stomach fluttered with a million butterflies, not caught up by what was said but by the look in his eyes. “I would go anywhere if you were to come with me, Lord Carrick,” she said sincerely. “You have been a stalwart and I know that I can rely upon you.”

  His eyes flickered as a small smile tugged at his mouth. “Even though I thought ill of you for some moments?” he asked regretfully. “I am sorry that I thought you might have been lying to me, Miss Preston. It is only because I am unused to being in such a situation that I have struggled to comprehend things in a clear manner.”

  Her heart turned over in her chest, feeling herself drawing nearer to him still, wondering what it was that he meant and trying to find the courage within herself to ask him.

  “It is a very strange circumstance that we find ourselves in,” he murmured, still looking at her with a slight tilt to his head. “And yet I consider myself almost blessed to have been the one to discover you, Miss Preston.”

  “Oh?” She could say nothing more, aware of how his thumb was rubbing across the back of her hand again and of how streaks of heat were running up her arm from the contact.

  He nodded slowly, still looking fixedly at her as though he were seeing her as she truly was but for the very first time. His eyes were roving about her face, his lips twisting together and his brow furrowing.

  “That is not to say that I am glad someone treated you ill,” he added hastily, making the sudden tension of the moment begin to disappear. “That is not it at all, Miss Preston.”

  “I am aware of that,” she replied with a small smile that hid her frustration over his lack of clarity, his lack of expressing himself further. “I would never think such a thing of you, Lord Carrick. I know you to be a good-hearted gentleman, for I was only just saying to Lady Ancrum that I did not think I knew anyone who is as considerate, as kind, and as generous as you are.” Her heart began to race in her chest as Lord Carrick took a small step closer, his hand still closed over hers. His eyes were fixed on her, his jaw set for a moment as though he were fighting against the urge to say something that would change things between them for good. Henrietta found herself willing him to speak it, wanting to hear what it was he had to say. Her hand tightened in his and he looked across at their hands, as though he had only just realized what he was doing.

  “Miss Preston,” he said, so quietly that she had to strain to hear him, “I suppose I must tell you the truth that is within my heart. This may not be the best time to do so, for I am aware that there is a good deal already going on and a good many questions still left unanswered, but I must do as I see fit. Besides which, I think that it may be best for me to be truthful with you, for the sake of my own heart which is, at this present moment, burning hotly within me.”

  “I would hear anything you have to say, Lord Carrick,” Henrietta replied hoarsely, her eyes searching his face as a fountain of joy began to bubble up within her. “Please, do continue.”

  The eagerness must have been evident in her voice for Lord Carrick smiled suddenly, the warmth of his eyes and the happiness in his expression making Henrietta blush. The difficulties of her current circumstances began to fade away, the pain and confusion over her parents return to their estate no longer seeming to burn with such an agony within her heart. She forgot about Lady Ancrum sitting in the corner of the library, forgot about all that had been said between them and instead found herself entirely caught up with Lord Carrick. He took over her world, slowly spreading himself out towards every corner until she could see nothing but him.

  “Miss Preston,” Lord Carrick whispered, reaching out to grasp her other hand and holding it tightly. “Miss Preston, I must tell you that—”

  “He is gone!”

  The sound of a door being thrown back hard against the wall made Henrietta jump visibly. Dropping Lord Carrick’s hands, both she and Lord Carrick turned to see Lord Ancrum striding into the room, coming directly towards Lord Carrick and shaking his head in what appeared to be a concerned manner.

  “What did you say?” Lord Carrick asked, looking at his friend in confusion. “Who is gone?”

  “Your brother,” Lord Ancrum said firmly as Lady Ancrum rose from her chair and hurried toward him. “Grieves is missing.”

  Henrietta swallowed hard, her stomach twisting itself into painful knots as she glanced from Lord Ancrum to Lord Carrick and back again. Lord Carrick was staring at Lord Ancrum in confusion, only for his expression to become one of dismay.

  “My brother has returned to what he knows best,” he muttered darkly, shaking his head and turning away. “He promised me he would not lose his head, would not give into that vice that had caught him for so long, but I think that he has done so regardless of his promises.”

  Warning rose in Henrietta’s heart and she caught Lord Carrick’s arm just as he was about to turn away.

  “Pray, Lord Carrick, consider for a moment longer,” she said quickly, looking at him urgently. “You fear that your brother has returned to indulging himself and the like, and if that is the truth, then I have no doubt that you will rail at him when the time comes. However,” she continued, taking in a quick breath and trying to contain the panic that was rising within her, “what if it is not as you suppose, Lord Carrick?”

  He frowned at her but did not continue to turn away. “What do you mean, Miss Preston?”

  “What if he has been injured in some way?” Henrietta said, seeing Lord Carrick’s frown deepen. “What if he has been taken by someone to a place he does not want to go? You might be willing to come immediately to the conclusion that he has returned to his familiar vices, but there is still the chance that something more has occurred.”

  “Miss Preston is quite correct,” Lady Ancrum agreed, her voice ringing out across the room. “We must go in search of him and, until he is discovered and returned to us, we cannot make any assumptions.”

  Henrietta watched as Lord Carrick weighed up what had been said, rubbing one hand over his eyes as he let out a long breath.

  “If there is any chance at all,” he grumbled eventually, “no matter how small, then I suppose I must do him the honor of thinking of it. Although I still believe that he has done nothing more than indulge himself a little too heavily and has been cajoled to go somewhere else by one of his many companions.”

  “I will fetch my cloak,” Henrietta said decisively, seeing Lord Carrick frown. “Lady Ancrum?”

  “I will attend also, of course,” Lady Ancrum agreed as Henrietta made for the door. “The carriage is still prepared?”

  “And waiting,” Lord Ancrum stated. “Although you will have to remain in the carriage, Lydia.”

  Lord Carrick nodded. “As will you, Miss Preston.”

  Henrietta had no time to disagree, feeling more and more concerned for the welfare of Mr. Grieves. Hurrying from the room to fetch her cloak, her heart pounding furiously, she began to silently pray that Mr. Grieves would be kept safe from all harm, and that, even if it would bring the ire of his brother, he would be found in nothing more than an inebriated state but in the best of health.

  Anything else would be quite horrifying.

  10

  “I think we must return home.”

  James shook his head as he spoke, feeling the same ball of misery return to his stomach once more. His brother had, he was quite sure, simply overindulged and was now, most likely, at another establishment or at a gentleman’s townhouse, throwing away yet more money and trying his best to recover it thereafter.

  “I cannot agree with you there,” Lord Ancrum said heavily. “Your brother might still be—”

  “I told him I would not indulge his vices any longer,” James interrupted, his voice hard as his hands curled into fists. “And I have to remain determined, Lord Ancrum. That means that I cannot allow myself to ride all over London in search of him when, most likely, he will have drunk far too much and will be almost unconscious by the time we find him.” He shook his head again, muttering darkly under his bre
ath about his brother’s lack of self-control, before gazing again out of the window, seeing how gray everything looked. The dawn had brought with it neither glorious sunshine nor a beautiful sunrise, for the clouds hung low in the sky and made the morning quite overcast. It matched his mood entirely, for the longer they searched for Oliver, the more certain he became that his brother was indulging himself in the same way he had done so many times before.

  “Lord Carrick?”

  The gentle voice of Miss Preston caught his ears, making him glance away from the window towards her for a moment.

  “Is there any other place where we might look before we return to the townhouse?” she asked, her face pale and tired but with a determination in her eyes that spoke of her urgent desire to find his brother. “I know that you are quite certain that he has hidden himself in one of his usual places, but given that we have been unable to find him, does that not mean that there might yet be some concern over his welfare?”

  He shook his head, aware of how kind and compassionate Miss Preston’s heart was and yet feeling that his brother did not deserve it.

  “Miss Preston, we have searched every haunt that my brother has ever set foot within,” he told her firmly. “And even now, I do not feel the same concern that you have within you. He has not gone to one of his usual places, but that does not mean that he is not just as I fear him to be. Rather, it means that he has gone somewhere else, that is all.”

  Miss Preston bit her lip, her eyes shifting this way and that, battling against her own fears and against what he himself had revealed.

  “This was a foolish errand,” he murmured, looking out of the window again. “Let us return home. I, for one, must take some rest for I am truly very weary.”

  “As am I,” Lady Ancrum agreed, “but ensure that you are not too hasty, Lord Carrick. Is there nowhere else he might be?”

  Growing irritated with the ladies’ insistence that his brother might be in trouble, James grimaced and kept his gaze on the passing streets. “No,” he said firmly, hoping that this would be enough to prevent them from asking anything more. “There is not. We should return, Lady Ancrum. I have had enough of chasing my brother.”

  Silence rang through the carriage, filling James with a strange, awkward tension that did not dissipate as the minutes passed. Rather, the tension seemed to grow steadily until it filled every part of him, until it rang through him in a most uncomfortable fashion. He closed his eyes and let out a ragged breath, aware of the anger that was coursing through his veins as he did so. He was angry with Oliver, angry that he had returned to the very vices he had only recently thrown asunder. Had he not promised James that he would be careful, only to go and then throw himself headlong into the liquor and the gambling all over again? He should never have brought Oliver with him to White’s. Whilst his brother had been more than a little helpful when it came to matters with Miss Preston, James ought to have known that there was a difficulty there given that liquor flowed quickly throughout White’s. Shaking his head, he ran one hand through his hair, his hat on his lap, and tried not to groan aloud. He had been foolish. Foolish for taking his brother with him to White’s and foolish thereafter to go in search of him.

  “Wait!”

  Miss Preston’s voice, louder and more shrill than he had ever heard it before, pierced his thoughts and sent a shudder through him.

  “Wait! Stop!” She was half out of her seat now, banging furiously on the roof of the carriage, which came to a sudden, jerky stop. She did not hesitate but threw open the door, her skirts sweeping past him as she awkwardly clambered out.

  “Miss Preston!” he shouted, seeing her running hard across the street and finding his limbs a little stiff and unwilling to follow her with the same urgency. “Miss Preston, whatever is the matter?” His feet hit the cobbles and he began to hurry after her, seeing her make her way to the edge of what was the river Thames, her hands grasping the rail as she looked down over it.

  And then, to his horror, she made to try and climb over it…

  “Miss Preston!” he exclaimed, grasping her hand and tugging her back. “You cannot…” His eyes glanced at the water below, horrified to see a man struggling against the water. His mouth was gagged and his hands held out in front of him, tied together tightly. It was only when James saw his fair hair that he realized who it was.

  “Oliver!” Bodily lifting Miss Preston away from the rails and handing her to Lady Ancrum, who was now standing by them, James did the only thing he could think of. Taking off his coat, he climbed over the rail and jumped into the water.

  His brother was white-faced, his eyes wide with fear as a trail of red ran down one side of his forehead. Catching his wrists, James spluttered furiously as the water surged into his mouth.

  “I have you!” he exclaimed, before lowering his head into the water so that he might swim underneath his brother’s tied wrists. Now safely around his neck, and with no easy way for Oliver to escape from him , James began to look for somewhere to climb out. He was growing weary now, the cold of the water only just beginning to take hold of his limbs.

  “Here, Carrick!” Lord Ancrum shouted, leaning over the wall as three other men, whose faces James did not recognize, leaned over also. They were holding out hands to him, with one lowering a rope into the water. “Here, Carrick, take a hold of the rope!”

  His legs were so weary that he could barely kick them against the cold, writhing waters of the Thames. Fixing his eyes on the rope and gritting his teeth, he made to reach for it but missed.

  “Brother,” he heard Oliver say, his voice sounding distant and far away. “I am sorry.”

  “You have done nothing wrong,” James replied, spluttering again as the foul water entered his mouth. “Let us get you home and dry, Oliver. Then you can tell me all.” So saying, he reached for the rope again and this time, managed to capture it. Winding it about his arms for fear that he would not be able to hold onto it with any strength, he looked up to see Lord Ancrum taking a hold of the rope whilst the other men were leaning forward as far as they could with their arms outstretched.

  “Come on, then!” Lord Ancrum cried, beginning to haul at the rope as James held on as best he could, his fingers slipping on the rope as his limbs began to grow numb. Somehow, he managed to reach the waiting hands of the men, feeling the weight of Oliver practically hanging from his shoulders. There were shouts, exclamations, and screams, but somehow, both he and Oliver were pulled to the top of the railing and brought over to the other side.

  James collapsed, his legs trembling and weak as he looked at his brother, who was on his knees with his head bowed.

  “What happened, Oliver?” he panted as Miss Preston took off the cloak she was wearing and threw it around his brother. “Why did you end up in the Thames?”

  Oliver looked up at him, his face white and his lips tinged blue as he shook violently.

  “We must get you both back to the townhouse,” Lady Ancrum said firmly, not allowing James another word. “You must both recover before anything can be explained.”

  Lord Ancrum nodded, his hands on his thighs as he bent forward, trying to catch his breath. “With all urgency,” he said hoarsely, as some of the men who had come to James’ aid began to crowd around them all, trying to look at the men they had saved. “The danger to his life—and to yours, Carrick—is not yet over.”

  It turned out that Lord Ancrum was quite correct. James, whilst utterly freezing and weak from his exertion, recovered fairly quickly with a decent amount of brandy, dry clothes, a blazing fire, and a good many blankets.

  Oliver, on the other hand, did not fare so well. He had been badly beaten, it seemed, for he had fresh bruises to his face and chest, according to the doctor. A few of his injuries had required dressings, and thereafter, James had been given strict instructions to allow his brother to rest.

  He had gone to him, of course, seeing just how pale and small he looked in his bed. Oliver had tried to smile and explain, but it had been
an effort for him just to keep his eyes open. James had encouraged him to rest, more relieved than he could say to know that his brother was still living and that he had not been forced to pull a body from the Thames. He had left Oliver to the care of his household staff, knowing that his brother was being well taken care of.

  And now, he was sitting down beside the fire, wrapped in blankets and nursing another glass of brandy, trying to make sense of all that had occurred.

  “My lord?”

  He looked up from the fire to see Miss Preston standing hovering in the doorway. She was exhausted. He could tell from the dark smudges under her eyes and from the whiteness of her cheeks.

  “I am to retire,” she said softly, not wanting to disturb his peace. “Lord and Lady Ancrum have also chosen to reside here overnight. Or what is left of the night.” She managed a tiny smile and James beckoned her in. Hesitating, she took a few steps further into the room and looked at him again, her hands clasped in front of her.

  “Will you not come and join me for a moment, Miss Preston?” he asked, gesturing for her to come closer. “I could do with a little company.”

  Much to his surprise, she gave a small shake of her head, her lips tightening for a moment.

  “Whatever is the matter, Miss Preston?” he asked, rising from his chair and allowing some of the blankets to fall to the floor. “What is it that concerns you so?”

  She did not take even a small step forward, keeping a large space between them both. “I am truly sorry for what has occurred with your brother, Lord Carrick,” she said hoarsely, her gaze darting from one place to the other. “I cannot tell you how sorry I am to know that my presence here is the cause of it.”

  The frown jumped to his face immediately. “Now, Miss Preston, I will not allow you to take the blame for such a thing,” he said firmly, taking long strides forward and capturing her hand before she could move. Pulling her gently back towards the fire so that they might both be warmed by it, he continued to look into her face but saw just how unwilling she was to look up into his face.