by Brown, Em
She withdrew her hand from his. “What is it you wished to speak to me of, Mr. Edwards?”
The formality of her tone struck him as odd since no one was within earshot.
“Why did you not inform me when you had left London? Or that you had returned.”
“Because you are not my keeper, Mr. Edwards.”
He did not like the indifference he heard.
“But—“
“Is your business in London not concluded?”
He raised his brows curiously.
“Tremayne is engaged to Worsely.”
He felt the creeping of dread.
“You have accomplished what the Earl desired.”
Time seemed to stop. Abbey knew. Somehow she knew of his arrangement with Frotham.
“How long have you known?” he asked quietly.
“What does it matter? I ought to thank you – or should I credit Frotham? I am relieved to be free of Tremayne. I had forgotten how tedious attaching myself to one man can be.”
The sensation in his groin was not one that he welcomed this time. She reclined in her chair, stretching out her legs and propping her feet upon a footstool. She waved a can of large ostrich plumes in front of her.
“To placate my curiosity,” she continued. “What was your reward?”
He frowned but did not wish to waver with timidity in his response. “Five and twenty thousand pounds.”
“You command quite the sum, Mr. Edwards. You were wise to accept the offer from Frotham. I would not have paid any paramour of mine such monies.”
It was rare in his life that he was struck dumb, but Montague could barely move. He would have gladly stood in the truth of what he had done and professed that, while he did require the funds, he had not expected to fall in love. And love her he did.
But judging from her disinterested expression, it mattered not. Her cynicism of the male sex was too great. Given his reputation, he was likely the last man of earth who could convince her otherwise. Perhaps the vulnerability that he had been privy to at Chelton, the hope and desire that he thought they two had shared, was but a moment in time. A passing dream.
“But I owe you much appreciation,” she said.
He perked up, but his hopefulness was soon dashed.
“I see that my quest for revenge had consumed me overmuch. I am pleased to return to my old form. You and I are peas of a pod. We had a droll and amusing romp, did we not?”
Droll? Amusing? Was that how she viewed their time at Chelton together? Part of him wanted to sweep her into his arms and remind her of how she could not refuse him. He was sure he could reignite her passion given the chance.
But her next statement sent a chill that stayed his hand.
“I congratulate you and wish you well in your return to Bath – or Chelton.”
She gave him her hand. He stared at it. He, Montague Edwards, was being dismissed. His mind still reeling from her words, he bowed wordlessly over her hand and rose to his feet. The blood had drained from his face. He had imagined that she had tender feelings for him. She had not promised herself to him, afterall. He pulled at his cravat and noticed that his heart was beating boldly – and painfully.
Pushing aside the curtain and exiting her box, he nearly collided with Lady Constance.
“I beg your pardon,” he mumbled.
She looked at him in surprise, but then averted her gaze. He would find no champion in her. He thought of all the possible women who might have mistaken his actions for affection. He had glibly gone from one woman to the next without much consideration for how they might have felt. The fortune he thought Fate had bestowed upon him was a falsehood for he had finally met his match in the Baroness Debarlow.
Chapter Twenty-One
SIX MONTHS LATER – MONTAGUE FINISHED OFF the last of the wine and shrugged into his scarlet coat. He tossed the serving wench at the tavern a half penny and assisted his friend to his feet. Latimer stumbled a bit, then looked Montague from head to foot.
“Must admit you cut a dapper figure in redcoat, Edwards,” Latimer slurred as he flecked at the gold epaulets. “Will you not be stinkin’ hot in such a garb?”
Montague had heard the climate in India could melt a man, but when he had purchased a commission in His Majesty’s Army, he had not expected that his regiment would be called to duty a world away. But he welcomed the change as an opportunity to put distance to his memories of her.
“You shall miss England – even the damnable weather here,” Latimer added as he allowed Montague to guide him out the tavern. He put a hand to his head. “I would rise and see you off with your regiment tomorrow, but I suspect I’ll have a ghastly headache in the morning.”
“I shall write you often enough,” replied Montague as he hailed a chair and assisted his friend into it.
Latimer nodded. “You must. I shall die of boredom an’ you do not. Neither Bath nor London will be half as interesting without your presence. Bon voyage, my friend.”
Montague watched the chair disappear into the night. He would miss Latimer. And England. But he was reminded of Abbey too much here. He thought about the pretty tavern wench he had just left and contemplated having one final tumble with an Englishwoman before sailing off tomorrow, but the urge rang hollow nowadays. He pulled out his snuffbox instead and was about to take a pinch when something was thrown over his head – a sack perhaps – and blinded him. Hands grabbed at his arms. He elbowed one of his assailants, but there must have been two of them. They pinioned his arms and tied his wrists. Before he could cry out, he was thrown onto the floor of a vehicle. He kicked at them, but the door was slammed. He heard the crack of a whip, and the vehicle lurched forward. He was in a carriage. But why?
He sat himself up and listened for other occupants of the vehicle. He heard a rustle, but with the sack over his head, he could see nothing. Nonetheless, he was sure he was not alone.
“What manner of prank is this?” he demanded as he considered which of his fellow officers might be involved.
“This be no trick but vengeance.”
He recognized the woman’s voice!
“Abbey?”
The sack was pulled from his head.
“Why, Mr. Edwards,” she noted, “I thought you disdained powder.”
Without light, he saw only shadows in the dim light of the stars. He drank in her silhouette.
“It is required of officers,” he replied, his heart racing. What did she intend with him?
“Are you not pleased to see me?”
Elated would have been a fitting word. Not a day went by and he did not think of her.
“If I am remiss in courtesies, it is merely because I must prepare to set sail tomorrow with my regiment.”
“I know. To India.”
“It would not go well with me if I failed to report for duty.”
“Indeed.”
He struggled with his binds, but they were steadfast. How long did she intend to keep him?
“Why India?” she asked.
“There appears to be some unrest threatening the operations of the East India Company.”
“Why the army?” she rephrased. “You do not strike me as the sort to pursue such a career.”
“I was in search of a purpose, my lady,” he answered honestly. “The army be a fitting place for a man such as myself with no ties nor loved ones.”
“There is no one you love here in England?”
He paused. “No one who would miss me.”
“Are you quite sure?”
What a strange question. What did she mean by it? How he wished there was light that he might see her face! Although he had sought to push away memories of her, he now wanted one last chance to look upon her.
“My lady?”
“If there should be the prospect of one who would...?”
Her voice cracked with emotion. His heart beat in his ears.
“If it be the Lady Debarlow—but I dare not hope,” he responded, stunned at the turn
of events, but determined to voice that which he did not in their last encounter.
“I saw that Chelton was for sale by Mr. Richard Henry,” she said. “I learned that he held the notes, secured by Chelton, in the amount of five and ten thousand pounds. Constance confirmed with Mr. Holmes that you had not accepted your payment from Frotham. Consequently, Chelton was forfeited to Mr. Henry.”
“I was paid an advance of five thousand pounds.”
“But you gave up Chelton.”
“I did not want Frotham’s money.”
“Why?”
“To my chagrin, Lady Debarlow, I grew a conscience of late. It were damned inconvenient, really.”
She let out a shaky laugh. He decided to show his cards for he had nothing to gain from keeping mum. “Moreover, Chelton held too many memories of you.”
There was silence, and he could not be sure how she received this revelation. Overcome with feeling, he looked down to gather himself.
“Then you have no need to set foot upon Chelton?” she inquired at last.
“I do not,” he replied firmly.
“A pity. For we are headed there.”
He looked at her sharply. To Chelton? If the tide went out early, they would not return in time for him to be aboard the ship.
“It a beautiful property and should not reside with just anyone,” she said, “so I purchased it from Mr. Henry. He would not sell it to me at first, but in the end, he was persuaded, as he has a son of his own not far in age from Tremayne...”
He was still reeling from the fact that she had purchased Chelton when she slid off her seat and straddled his legs upon the carriage floor.
“And its dungeons fit quite well into my plans for revenge,” she finished.
He could feel her breath upon his face. Her lips were inches from his.
“A rather extravagant revenge,” he commented.
“And penance. I was mistaken and wrong to have cast you aside. I only did so because...because I thought you did not care for me.”
He could hardly breathe from the emotions waving over him. The pureness of the joy had him nearly mute once more. Her eyes shined in the darkness with what might have been tears. His muscles tensed from the desire to clasp her to his bosom.
“Abbey...would it offend my lady if I were to declare my love for you?”
She brushed her lips lightly over his. “Only an’ you did not take me as you did once before.”
He felt his cock lengthen. “Then unbind me now, Baroness.”
She reached around him and loosened the rope at his wrists. He cupped her face and pressed his lips to hers with the intention of never letting her go.
THE END
OTHER WORKS BY EM BROWN
Cavern of Pleasure Series
Mastering the Marchioness
Conquering the Countess
Binding the Baroness
Lord Barclay’s Seduction
Red Chrysanthemum Stories
Master vs. Mistress
Master vs. Mistress: The Challenge Continues
Seducing the Master
Taking the Temptress
Master vs. Temptress: The Final Submission
A Wedding Night Submission
Punishing Miss Primrose, Parts I - XX
Chateau Debauchery Series
Submitting to the Rake
Submitting to Lord Rockwell
Submitting to His Lordship
Submitting to the Baron
Submitting to the Marquess
Submitting for Christmas
Other Stories
Claiming a Pirate