Beneath Spring's Rain (Ashton Brides Book 1)

by Rebecca J. Greenwood

  Eliza forced her voice out. “Pauline, please. Stay.”

  Pauline’s eyes were white-rimmed.

  Eliza couldn’t scream. Why couldn’t she scream? Her body unfroze. She turned, bent, and slammed her arms down on the piano keys. Discordant notes screamed out for her. And suddenly her throat loosed and she screamed as well, the high-pitched tone loud and piercing to her own ears. She continued to bang down on the keys.

  A violent hand grabbed her arm and yanked her around painfully.

  “That is enough!” the earl hissed, his hot breath hitting her face. “That is enough, my girl.”

  She swung her free arm and raked her short nails down his face. He let out a holler. His grasp tightened, and he grabbed her raking arm with his other hand. He squeezed her arms till her bones ground together.

  A loud roar sounded. The earl was wrenched away from her, almost pulling her from her feet. A large masculine form struggled with the earl in the small confines of the room. They wrestled, their bodies swung around and forced her into the pianoforte. She cried out and dropped to the floor. She crawled beneath the narrow instrument and cowered, holding her head. The bench crashed to the other side of the room.

  The violent movement finally ended, and she looked up to see the earl’s red face, eyes blazing in fury, staring at her, his back arched, gripping at an arm that was locked around his neck. Her rescuer straddled the earl’s back, pinning him in place with a chokehold.

  “You touch her again and you die.”

  Lord Daniel’s anger blazed from him, a righteous fury. Her heart gave an uneven throb. He was beautiful, his hair disheveled, his eyes flashing, his size and strength in glorious display. She couldn’t pull her eyes away.

  A clatter of voices and footsteps, and more figures poured into the room. From her limited view, the matron and Mr. Prince were there, as were several others.

  “What is this?” the matron cried.

  “Get off me!” Lord Crewkerne ground out.

  “Did you hear me, Crewkerne? If you touch her —” Lord Daniel said.

  “I heard, I heard! Let go!” the earl wheezed.

  In the chaos of the room, if Eliza had not been at the same level as their faces, she would not have seen Lord Daniel’s lips move close to the earl’s ear. She did not normally read lips, and no sound of the low-spoken words reached her, but she understood what was said nevertheless.

  “Expect my second.”

  He was challenging Lord Crewkerne to a duel.

  “No!” she gasped out.

  Lord Daniel’s head turned, and the intensity of his eyes hit her like a blast of hot air from an opened grate. She sucked in a breath.

  His face softened to tenderness. Her heart stilled.

  The earl bucked, and Lord Daniel turned his attention to his prisoner again, gave him a painful-looking shove, and rolled away, releasing him. The earl scrambled up, knocking into the legs of bystanders in his effort to get away.

  “This is well and enough!” Mrs. Wiggins’ voice rang out. “What is going on here? Lord Daniel?”

  “This man was assaulting Miss Moore.”

  The earl straightened his waistcoat. “I am the Earl of Crewkerne, and that is an exaggeration. I was merely visiting with her.”

  “The scratches down your face give you the lie,” Lord Daniel said. “I arrived just in time to rip you off her.”

  Lord Crewkerne’s jaw flexed. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped at the blood streaking his cheek. “A misunderstanding, nothing more. I apologize for alarming Miss Moore. I only sought to speak to her.”

  Eliza held herself tightly under the pianoforte, her heart pounding in her ears.

  “You have done far and enough in regard to Miss Moore,” Lord Daniel said. “I believe she does not wish to speak with you. You should be a gentleman and never approach her again.”

  “I seek only to help Miss Moore. In this trying time, assistance from any quarter should be welcome to her.”

  “Assistance! It is your assistance that has brought her to this crisis. You are the one who orchestrated her ruination through false rumors and slander.”

  “Orchestrated!” The earl let out a light laugh. “You are misled, sir. I regret that certain circumstances between Miss Moore and I were misconstrued, and after, rumor expanded to absurd heights. Regretfully, no one can control what the wagging tongues of the Ton say. I only hope to alleviate the unfortunate effects on her wellbeing.”

  “I say you have plenty of influence, Lord Crewkerne. But though you may be a powerful man with friends in high and low places, do not think that I am not also well-connected, and my word without merit.”

  “And who are you, sir, that I should fear you?”

  “Captain Lord Daniel Ashton of His Majesty’s 32nd Dragoon Guards, and brother to the Marquess of Kentworth.” Lord Daniel clicked his heels. “I take no pleasure in your acquaintance.”

  Lord Crewkerne sneered, “Ah, the nearly destitute Marquisate of Kentworth. Yes, I tremble.”

  “Enough of this,” Mrs. Wiggins interrupted. “Lord Crewkerne, will you please explain to me how is it that you came to be in this room in the Magdalen House today?”

  “You may ask Mr. Bennett, the treasurer of this fine charitable institution. I am now a governor, and as such, I will be assisting Lord Bentonly, newly elected to the committee, in ensuring all is handled here in the most upright and correct manner.”

  Her blood ran chill. Eliza bit back a cry. Her sanctuary was destroyed, vanished in the smoke of Lord Crewkerne’s money. She would never be safe from him.

  “The generous donation you have made to the Home is appreciated, Lord Crewkerne.” Mrs. Wiggins’ voice was stiff. “But we do not allow even governors to visit the home or any of its inmates without the accompaniment of a matron or assistant matron. It is interesting to hear that Lord Bentonly feels the need for such assistance. I will inform Lord Radnor and the rest of the committee of your interest. I am sure they will want to confer on the matter.” She looked about the room. “Yes, they will be very interested to hear of all that has gone on here today.”

  There was a pause. Lord Crewkerne’s fists clenched and unclenched.

  “What, may I ask, is the captain doing here? A tourist?”

  “He was being escorted by myself and Miss Smith to visit Eliza.”

  Eliza buried her head in her arms, making herself as small as she could. Please, would the nightmare end? She trembled. The wood floor sucked all the warmth out of her body. The narrow instrument above her was not nearly enough protection.

  “Eliza.” Lord Daniel’s voice was soft and far too close. Her shoulders tensed. “Come out, Eliza. I’m here.”

  She uncovered her head and looked over to where Lord Daniel crouched beside her. He held out his hand to her, strong and capable. She swallowed back the nerves and terror and accepted his hand. She must face her accuser.

  Lord Daniel’s strength pulled her up and steadied her shaking limbs as the blood rushed back into her legs. She gripped his coat-sleeves with desperate fingers to keep herself from falling again. She stared at the gold braid of his officer’s uniform. His jacket was askew from the battle he had fought for her. She tightened her fingers on his sleeve. She would not straighten his jacket. It would be better for it to remain askew than to be so intimate with this man before witnesses.

  “Are you ready?” he said, low and tender. She looked up into his eyes, and they matched his voice. He was strong, he was here, and he cared for her. Her insides began to quiver, vibrating like wild, dissonant music, fear and hope intermingling.

  “Eliza Moore.” His voice was all she heard, the cacophony of sounds from the crowd around them melding into a dull roar. “I can help you, protect you, if you accept me. Will you accept me?”

  Eliza’s heart stopped. She had planned to say no!

  But now—the Home was not safe. She was yet again vulnerable to Lord Crewkerne.

  She closed her eyes and let go of independence an
d self-sufficiency. Let go of protecting this man from herself.

  She opened her eyes, and gave a short, quick nod.

  She was not prepared for the smile that broke over his face. It was an expression of pure joy. His happiness shined down on her. A beam of his warmth hit her heart and lodged there. She did not know what to do with it. It was more than she was capable of dealing with.

  His face sobered again. “Now, you must be strong. And you are strong, Eliza.”

  She let his words reach her, strengthen her spine.

  She turned with him and they faced the room together. She stood tall and smoothed her expression. Lord Daniel held onto her hand. She gripped it back tightly.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, Lord Crewkerne. May I have your attention.” He waited until all eyes were on them. “Miss Eliza Moore has consented to be my wife.”

  A shudder went through her at those words. Daniel shifted, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, tucking her into his warm strength.

  A solid silence met his words and then noise erupted as people proclaimed joy, shock, and incomprehension. Eliza let her eyes glaze, focusing on nothing. She didn’t know who had crowded into the room, and the range of emotions coming from them overwhelmed her in her already heightened state.

  “As such, I am taking her to live at Ashton House, to be under the protection of my stepmother the Marchioness of Kentworth until we wed.”

  The earl’s lip curled. “This is absurd! You can’t be serious.” He had straightened his ensemble enough to appear put together again, but the continued dishevelment of his hair and the blood that congealed on his cheek from her scratches showed his disorder.

  “I am deadly serious, Lord Crewkerne.” Daniel’s voice was chill and controlled. Eliza tensed at the danger that lurked in his tone.

  Rage flashed in the earl’s eyes, and his mouth tightened. He brushed off his coat with his slim fingers. He watched her. Almost against her will, her eyes met his, and her soul chilled. A close-lipped smile was on his face again, malevolent and superior. He inclined his head to her.

  “Congratulations to the happy couple. If you will excuse me.” He took up his hat and gloves, bowed, turned on his heel, and strode to the door.

  The press of bodies in the hall blocked his exit. “Make way.”

  The crowd of Magdalens and matrons scrambled to let him through.

  Chapter 14

  Daniel’s heart thrilled. Eliza held to his arm as they hurried out the front gates of the Magdalen Hospital’s grounds. He helped her into the waiting hackney carriage.

  “Ashton House, Curzon Street, Mayfair,” he instructed the driver before entering the carriage. He paused, half inside. Should he sit beside her?

  She hugged the side of the forward-facing seat, her back straight but her arms held tightly to herself.

  He gave an internal sigh. She’d been pushed too far already today. He should give her space.

  He sat opposite her and rapped on the roof, letting the driver know they were settled. The hackney started forward. He watched her beautiful face. Her expression was drawn, with a line between her eyebrows, and shadows beneath her dark eyes. He leaned forward, every part of him wanting to reach out, to touch her, to comfort her.

  “Miss Moore.”

  She blinked and turned to him like he was pulling her from some dark, consuming place. He waited till her eyes focused on him. “I want you to understand what is happening. I am taking you to Ashton House, where my brother is staying, along with my stepmother, the marchioness, and my sister, Florentia. I will put you into the marchioness’s charge.”

  Her eyes widened. “And how will the marchioness react to this, Lord Daniel? You are bringing a fallen woman into your household to associate with your younger sister. Is she even out?”

  “This is her first Season.”

  “Her first! My lord, we cannot possibly do this. Why risk her ruin?”

  “I have told my family all, and they support me in this.”

  “I cannot fathom that.”

  “My brother the marquess supports this engagement. That’s the most important thing.”

  “Has he overruled your stepmother’s objections? She is a gracious woman, but I cannot imagine her welcoming me.”

  “Nevertheless—”

  “There must be another way. I shouldn’t have agreed to this.” Her words came rapidly. “If Lord Crewkerne hadn’t . . . I was going to turn you down today. I do not think your proposal of marriage is wise.”

  “Ah.” His stomach sank, and his chest tightened.

  “You are sacrificing far too much for me, and not just yourself, but your sister—!”

  “Florrie will be fine. I want to do this for you.”

  She sat back, her mouth tight, and stared out the window. “You want to. Pure foolishness,” she muttered. Her jaw tightened and her frown deepened. Her arms crept up till she clutched them around herself.

  His stomach clenched.

  She let out a sigh. “But I do not see any other solution open to me. I cannot protect myself. Therefore, I am selfishly taking advantage of you.”

  “Not selfish—”

  “Yes, selfish.” Her dark eyes turned to him, sharp and focused. “I see no other way for me to be safe, and I selfishly desire to be safe. Therefore, I am taking advantage of your foolish infatuation with me to gain that safety.”

  He lowered his brows. “Not foolish.” He shook his head, leaned forward. “I assure you, Miss Moore, I count any sacrifice worth the cost. By this I will be ensuring your welfare and gaining the deepest wish of my heart. That is no sacrifice.”

  She leaned away from him, angled her head up, her lips pinched. “The deepest wish of your heart is to marry a woman who doesn’t love you, my lord?”

  He jerked. Her words cut him. Her direct gaze was a challenge. He looked away.

  “No, I can’t say that is my deepest wish. But I hope . . .” He could not speak his true wish—that she would return his love. “Your rescue and safety, and the opportunity to have you in my life, is worth any sacrifice.”

  She frowned. Her hands clenched in her lap. Her face smoothed. “I have accepted your offer, Lord Daniel, and I thank you.” She gave a small bow, the regal nod of a fallen monarch accepting magnanimity from her conqueror.

  “Your servant.” He returned her bow and didn’t know what to say further. She turned to the window. He sat back. They were silent the rest of the ride.

  * * *

  In front of Ashton House, Eliza took Lord Daniel’s offered hand. He assisted her in alighting from the carriage and clasped her arm. They ascended the front steps and into the marble-floored entrance of the large townhouse.

  Lord Daniel’s tiny stepmother welcomed Eliza with civility and sympathy, but with a pale face and worried eyes. Eliza remembered the marchioness’s kind words to her after her mother’s funeral, inquiring to be sure Eliza was taken care of and was not in want. Eliza had assured her she was fine, though it had not been a sure thing at all at the time. Now Eliza was a beggar at her door. It pulled and scrunched at what was left of Eliza’s pride.

  Lord Daniel’s younger sister Lady Florentia clasped Eliza’s hand in both of hers with an appearance of genuine enthusiasm, declared them sisters, and insisted on their using Christian names immediately. The tall young lady had still been in the schoolroom when Eliza last saw her.

  “My come-out ball is tomorrow, Eliza.” Lady Florentia beamed at her with bright blue eyes and bobbing dark curls. “Do say you will join us there.”

  Eliza sent a wide-eyed look at Lord Daniel. “I do think it best if I do not. If you will please hold me excused.” A ball. The thought made her nauseous.

  “Oh, no, please!” Lady Florentia begged. “You must! What better way to announce your betrothal to my brother?”

  What better way to ensure Society’s censure? “I would not want to distract from your come-out—”

  “Eliza, I do think it would be best for us to attend together,”
Lord Daniel said. Eliza turned to him, aghast. He tugged her hand and pulled her a few steps away from his stepmother and sister.

  He bent to place his face near hers and spoke low. “This marriage is to bring you back into society. I want to show the world that you are innocent, and to prove to them we are not ashamed. Please, say you will come with me.”

  Her heart clenched. She looked away from his entreating face.

  “Yes, you must attend,” the marchioness stated with finality. “It is the best and only way.”

  Eliza was cornered. “As you desire, Your Ladyship.” Eliza curtsied, her head spinning.

  “And Daniel, you need to dance with her at least three times,” the marchioness said.

  He stood next to Eliza and kept her hand in his. “Happily, madame.” Eliza heard a grin in his voice. “And the supper dance, most assuredly. We are engaged, and they will know it.”

  She clutched at his arm to keep herself upright. He planned a spectacle!

  He gave her hand a squeeze, bowed, and claimed he had much to do. “I leave my betrothed in your capable hands, Stepmama.”

  He left.

  She had to force herself to stand still as he walked away.

  The marchioness sent Lady Florentia off on an errand, and then gave Eliza a cursory tour of the townhouse. They skirted servants looping swaths of pink fabric over bannisters, decorating for the ball tomorrow. A glance into the ballroom revealed an artist chalking the floor with the Kentworth coat of arms surrounded by flowers and arabesque swirls.

  The marchioness showed Eliza to a well-appointed bedchamber, ordered a tea tray to be brought up, and turned a concerned face to Eliza.

  “Forgive my directness, my dear, but you do not appear to have any baggage.”

  Eliza clasped her hands in front of her. “My cousins, the Broughtons, are in possession of my trunk and belongings. I can write them and request them be delivered here.”

  The marchioness gave her an intelligent look, “Then write your letter to them, and I will send a carriage and two footmen to retrieve it.”

  “Thank you, Your Ladyship.”

  “And in your trunk, might there be a gown suitable for tomorrow’s ball?” the marchioness asked with delicacy.