Healing Her Heart

by Lisa Reisner

  A wave of sadness washed over her as she watched Olivia tie a perfect bow in her dolly’s hair. Abigail had made her peace with leading a life without romantic love but had not quite come to terms with never having children of her own. Abigail never had the opportunity to conceive a child during her marriage because Clayton was unable to perform the marriage act. A defect Clayton had blamed on her inability to entice him. You really are useless! How do you expect me to be stimulated when you just lie there like a cold fish?

  Clayton was determined to produce an heir. Each night during their first year of marriage he would come to her bedroom. She could still feel his cold hands fondling her naked and vulnerable body. When he failed to become aroused, he would unleash his fury. At first, it was just verbal abuse. Demeaning words that made her feel worthless. Then it became physical, beatings that would leave her bedbound for weeks. However, nothing could prepare her for the sadistic behavior that occurred in the past year.

  Clayton developed a full-blown desire to torture Abigail for his own pleasure. He would hold lit cigars to her backside and make her beg for mercy. Or worse, he would deny her food, gaining sick pleasure when she became too lethargic to walk. The servants were horrified by their master’s actions but were too terrified to help. Thankfully, she had Jane. Jane would climb her trellis at night and sneak her food. Abigail recalled shoving bread into her mouth like a starved animal. She had felt inhuman.

  Like any good doctor, she tried to piece together the cause of her husband’s erratic behavior, which was no easy task, given the fact the Bainbridge staff were forbidden to gossip. But one unfortunate night, after Clayton had split her lip wide open with his fist, the head housekeeper took pity on her and divulged Bainbridge’s dark, secretive past. You mustn’t take it personally when the master gives you a wallop. It was his mother that ruined him and turned him into the monster he is today.

  She learned Clayton’s mother committed suicide when he was just ten years old. Clayton was the unfortunate soul who found her hanging from the rafters in the family stables. His mother had left a detailed note that she needed to stop the wicked voices in her head. Wicked voices that made her molest her own son. No doubt, her actions led to irreversible damage, which seemed to explain Clayton’s impotency and his anger towards women.

  Abigail did her best to control his mood swings. Clayton was a habitual coffee drinker, so it became easy to slip certain herbals into the grounds. She experimented with many different combinations. In the end, a potent blend of vervain plant and calendula seemed to help control his temper and mood swings. For six months, Abigail had a reprieve from his violent behavior. She spent the time helping Jane at the orphanage and planning her escape. When the herbs ceased to work, Clayton’s rage returned, and Abigail had no choice but to put her plan into action. Abigail lifted her chin with pride as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. You did it! You left the sick bastard!

  Her moment of positive reinforcement was interrupted by a strange noise. Abigail’s instincts told her to investigate. She grabbed the lit candelabra from her nightstand and journeyed out into the hallway. She spotted Grumman making his nightly rounds and thought he would be able to help.

  “Grumman, I do not mean to interrupt, but I was wondering if you also heard a muffled sound?”

  Grumman frowned. “I am afraid I have heard that sound every night for the past few months. Miss Olivia seems to hide under her covers and cry herself to sleep.”

  Abigail felt awful. “That is a problem that needs immediate remedying. I am going to check on her. Would it be too much trouble for the kitchen to warm up a glass of milk for the child?”

  Grumman gave Abigail a pleased look. “I will see to it myself,” Grumman answered, marching himself downstairs.

  Olivia’s muted cry ceased when Abigail gently knocked on her door. “Who is it?”

  Abigail opened the door and peaked inside. “Olivia, it is me, Abigail. May I come in?”

  Olivia inelegantly blew her nose into a handkerchief. “You may,” Olivia said as she sat up in bed. “I am sorry, Miss Abigail. Was I making too much noise?”

  Abigail sat at the edge of Olivia’s bed and smiled at her red-eyed pupil. She really was a sweet child. She did not deserve all the pain life had thrown her way. Most adults could not cope with such loss, let alone an eight-year-old girl. “Grumman told me you cry yourself to sleep every night. Is that true?” Abigail gently prodded.

  Olivia clutched her soft teddy bear and averted her eyes as if she had done something wrong. “I miss momma so much at night. She always checked under the bed for ghosts and would read me a bedtime story.”

  Abigail moved closer to Olivia and began to stroke her hair. “Olivia, I think you are the bravest girl I have ever met,” Abigail said as she crouched down on the floor and surveyed the area for ghosts. “No ghosts here,” Abigail said as she stood up and sat down next to Olivia. “I am certain my bedtime stories will not compare to your mother’s, but would you like me to tell you a story?”

  Olivia cracked a tiny smile. “Yes, please.”

  Abigail planned to stay with Olivia until she fell asleep. “I have the perfect story in mind. It involves a dragon and a princess. My friend Jane wrote it.”

  “It sounds wonderful. I wish I had a friend who wrote stories,” Olivia sighed and added “I wish I had a friend.”

  Abigail’s heart wrenched. “Olivia, I do not know a soul in London. Maybe we can be friends.”

  Olivia leaned her head to the side and considered the proposition. “If you check for ghosts and read me a bedtime story every night, I think we can be friends.”

  Abigail hid her smile. “Deal. Now let me start by upholding my end of the bargain. Once upon a time, there was a lonely prince...”

  ∞

  Marcus listened intently with his ear pressed against Olivia’s door. Marcus knew eavesdropping was not the noblest action, but he needed to listen to his new hire in action. After all, she was going to oversee his niece. He grinned at Olivia’s bargaining strategies, a trait she had clearly inherited from him. He was always so hesitant to interact with Olivia, fearful of saying the wrong thing and making matters worse, but Abigail made it seem so easy and natural. Rarely was Marcus impressed by anyone, but Abigail’s gentle voice and sweet nature seemed to work like a charm on Olivia.

  For Marcus, Abigail was quite an unusual example of the opposite sex. He was accustomed to the spoiled women of high society, women who lived for luxury and power. A woman who had to make her own way in the world was quite foreign to him. Marcus could not help but admire Abigail’s bravery to start a new life on her own. Ever since he was betrayed by Marissa, his first love, it was a seldom occurrence he thought highly of any female.

  Marcus remembered being instantly drawn to Marissa’s intoxicating beauty and elegant style. She was recently widowed when their affair had begun. It was the height of the Peninsular War and Marcus was a young major in the army, leading his regiment to numerous victories against Napoleon’s forces. During his short leaves from battle he would spend his free time with Marissa. Cold nights spent under the stars were warmed by thoughts of their passionate lovemaking. He had planned on proposing to Marissa when the war was over.

  The Battle of Badajoz brought utter devastation to Marcus’s world. The French Army was outnumbered five to one and it was meant to be an easy conquest. In the end, the British forces defeated the French garrison, but at the bloody cost of 3,000 soldiers. The French were aware of the red-coats’ battle plans and mined large breeches into the curtain walls, patiently waiting for the British to strike. Marcus watched his brother die as an enemy sword pierced his heart. A piece of his soul died that day.

  Marcus went over the events of the battle several times in his head. Battle plans the Earl of Wellington had asked him to help devise. Marcus had thought his strategies would guarantee success and spare many casualties, but apparently, he was mistaken. He felt responsible for so many innocent lives lost that d
ay, especially his brother’s. Marcus had always been the protective older brother, but on this occasion, he had failed him miserably. Eventually, he turned to alcohol to dull the pain.

  Jordan hated seeing Marcus torture himself. He was on the battlefield in Badajoz with Marcus and had witnessed the unnecessary killings of countless men. Jordan became suspicious the French had been informed of their line of attack. Jordan investigated anyone who had access to Marcus’s private office. Shockingly, he uncovered that Marissa had relationships with several high-ranking British officers. She used her sexual prowess to gain access to several important documents. She had sold Marcus’s battle plans to the French for ten thousand pounds.

  Marcus had felt like a fool. It was one thing to be duped, but quite another to fancy yourself in love with a ruthless, mercenary, a spy. He vowed to never again fall under the spell of any woman.

  Grumman’s cough startled Marcus. “I did not hear you come up the steps,” Marcus said, embarrassed over being caught snooping. “I was just checking on Olivia’s progress.”

  “No need to explain yourself to me, my lord,” Grumman said as he balanced a silver tray with a glass of warm milk on it. “Your concern for Olivia is perfectly normal, but it seems Miss Jenner has everything under control.”

  As if on cue, Abigail opened the door. It was evident from her surprised look she did not expect the presence of both Grumman and Marcus. She looked lovely in her silk wrapper and prim white nightgown. “Olivia is sound asleep,” Abigail whispered as she walked away from the door, careful not to wake her young charge. She turned her attention towards Grumman. “Thank you for the milk, but it will not be necessary.”

  “It was my pleasure, Miss Jenner,” Grumman remarked as he shifted his gaze from Abigail to Marcus. “Well then, I bid you both good night.”

  Marcus watched Grumman scurry down the hall faster than he had moved in years. He knew Abigail must feel embarrassed to stand in her night clothes before him, but he had to express his gratitude. “Thank you for checking on Olivia,” Marcus said, suppressing the sudden urge to touch the silky waves of hair that fell onto her shoulders. “If there is anything I can do to help with my niece, please let me know. I must admit I am not very good with children, and I would appreciate any advice on the subject.”

  Abigail shot Marcus a curious look. “When I was a young girl, I was petrified of the water, but my grandfather thought it was imperative I learn how to swim. Each day, I dreaded going to the lake. I thought I was surely going to drown, but with each passing day, my fears subsided and I became quite a seasoned swimmer.”

  Marcus understood the point Abigail was trying to make. “Yes, but where do I begin? I just find it hard to relate to a young girl.”

  Abigail furrowed her brows. “I did notice a beautiful chess board in your study. Perhaps you should teach her to play. It may bring you both closer together.”

  “I think that would be an excellent idea if I had an eight-year-old nephew, but I cannot imagine a little girl would be interested in chess.”

  The annoyed look on Abigail’s face was unmistakable. “Do you think Olivia is not up to the challenge?”

  “I think Olivia is up to any challenge,” Marcus defended. “But it seems an unusual pastime for a young girl.”

  Marcus’s response did not seem to soften Abigail’s expression. He was used to simpering females and had to admit he liked the way Abigail stood her ground. “Humor me. Give it three tries,” Abigail proposed. “If Olivia is hopelessly uninterested in chess, then you can say you gave it your best shot.”

  Marcus reveled in the angry blush that appeared on Abigail’s face. He imagined her fiery nature would make her a very passionate lover. Marcus wanted to kiss the pout off her soft lips. “Tell me something, Miss Jenner. Do you play chess?”

  “Yes, I would say it is a fond hobby of mine.”

  Marcus observed the haughty tone in her voice. “Perhaps we should play some time.”

  Abigail tightened the belt on her robe and turned to leave. “That would be inappropriate, my lord.”

  “What would be so inappropriate about it? I have never seen a rule written anywhere about an employer not being allowed to play chess with an employee.”

  “I have never seen that rule, either,” Abigail continued with a deadpan expression. “But it would be inappropriate for an employee to beat her employer at chess. Good night, my lord.”

  Marcus surveyed Abigail’s confident posture as she strutted into her room. He was unaccustomed to anyone challenging him, especially a woman, but it seemed Abigail Jenner was not like most women. Her witty retorts and angelic smile made for a powerful aphrodisiac. Under different circumstances, he would have been tempted to seduce Abigail, but now his focus was elsewhere. Marcus was determined to provide Olivia with a stable environment and luring her governess into an affair would be a terrible mistake. The very idea would go against everything he was trying to accomplish.

  Marcus walked back to his room and turned his thoughts to his search for a bride. He lay down on his large four poster bed and made a mental list of all the suitable prospects that would be in attendance at Almack’s. On the top of that roster was Lady Tabitha Applewood. Tabitha was a fine example of a high society lady, raised from infancy to make the perfect nobleman’s wife. She was also considered to be a great beauty amongst the ton. The only problem was her dull personality; Marcus always had an overwhelming desire to yawn in her presence. Although, he wondered if being interesting would be a necessary requirement for him. In truth, marriage and all its trimmings seemed like a foreign concept to him.

  His parents’ union had been arranged by their illustrious families without regard to the fact they had little in common. The pair was not inclined to argue; they much preferred to ignore one another and live like strangers. After they did their duty and produced male heirs, they were free to pursue their own interests. These interests were generally self-indulgent and rarely included spending anytime with their children. Marcus wondered if his marriage would be like his parents’. The only love match he had ever observed was the Sunderland marriage.

  Robert and Caroline seemed to genuinely enjoy spending time with one another. Most men in society took mistresses, but it was clear Robert only had eyes for Caroline. On occasion, members of the ton would ridicule their subtle displays of affection. Marcus often thought they were jealous of the closeness the couple shared. Marcus did not share in the hateful comments of the ton, but instead felt in awe of their love. He truly believed he was not meant for such a relationship. Marcus felt he was destined for a marriage of convenience like the rest of society.

  Marcus blew out the candles on his nightstand and sighed as he got under the covers. His last thought before sleep was that Lady Tabitha Applewood still appeared to be the right choice for him.

  He dreamt of a raven-haired temptress.

  Chapter 5

  “You always want to plant fennel in your garden,” Abigail said as she dug another shallow hole in the dirt. “Fennel attracts ladybugs, which keeps away other pests that want to eat your herbs and vegetables.”

  Earlier, she had instructed Olivia on all the medicinal benefits of the herbs they planted. Olivia was amazed to learn fennel could help a person’s eyesight and informed Abigail that Grumman often complained his eyesight was not what it used to be. Abigail promised to teach Olivia how to make a tincture that would help Grumman. Her pupil was filled with excitement over the idea.

  “The seeds smell like licorice,” Olivia remarked as she wrinkled her nose. “Perhaps uncle can take us to the sweet shop this week. Bristow’s on Garrick Street has the best licorice in all of London.”

  Abigail was pleased Olivia also had a sweet tooth. “I am sure we can convince him,” Abigail responded with a conspiratorial smile. “Mallows are my personal favorite.”

  Olivia smiled and was about to respond when a jay bird swooped in and stole a seed from her palm. They both started to giggle as Marcus came by the gard
en. His face lit up when he heard the musical sound of his niece’s laughter. “What is so amusing?”

  Abigail winked at her young charge. “We were just plotting our best strategy,” Abigail explained. “It seems we need to persuade you to take us to the confectioner’s shop.”

  Marcus smiled at Olivia and then locked eyes with Abigail. “If sweets make my niece this happy then I will build a confectionary shop in my drawing room.”

  A part of Abigail believed that Marcus would do something that outlandish if he thought it would make Olivia content. There was something about her employer that made her pulse quicken. Of course, he was notably handsome in his white linen shirt and fitted waist coat, but it was not just his rugged good looks that made her palms sweat. It was the tenderness he showed his young niece that made it hard for her not to like him. The fact that he had the bluest eyes she had ever seen just seemed like icing on the cake. Abigail imagined Lord Marcus Everton had left many broken hearts in his wake.

  She flashed back to last evening when she dared to suggest she would beat him at chess. He must think her incredibly ill-mannered for behaving in such a way, but something about his arrogant manner made her want to take him down a notch. A piece of her wanted to march downstairs and challenge him to a match, but she knew that would be taking matters too far. Not to mention the little warning voice inside her head that told her it was best for her not to spend too much time alone in Lord Everton’s company. After all, she was a terrible liar and feared being questioned about her past.

  “Miss Jenner loves mallows and they make the best licorice. So, will you take us to Bristow’s this week, Uncle Marcus?” Olivia asked with a twinkle in her eye.

  “I have some business matters to take care of today, but I promise to take you both on the morrow,” Marcus vowed. Olivia jumped up and gave her uncle a fierce hug.