Regency Christmas Box Set: Risking it all

by Regina Darcy

  Florence looked troubled. “But your uncle might do worse to you than he has already done, miss,” she said gently, wringing out a cloth in the small basin of cold water she had brought in from the dressing room. “What then?”

  Julianna was forced to suck in a breath with the pain that radiated through her face as Florence pressed the cloth gently against her cheek. Her uncle’s blow had been harder than she’d realised.

  “Then, I must endure,” Julianna whispered, trying to find the courage deep within herself to continue standing against her uncle’s determination. "This is my life, my future. If I will not stand up for myself, then who will?”

  Dashing away a wayward tear that had spilt from the corner of her eye, she grabbed her powder trinket and started to cover up the evidence of her uncle’s violence.

  TWO

  The Honourable Charles Ingraham, youngest son of the Earl of Davenport, sighed heavily as he ran one hand through his hair before sitting down heavily at the old wooden table. A splinter caught his hand, and he hissed in frustration, pulling it out gingerly.

  This inn was not exactly well looked after.

  Sighing again, Charles sat back in his chair and ordered another whisky with a simple snap of his fingers. It was set before him in an instant, along with the promise that his meal would be with him in another moment or two. Charles did not mind. The rest of the gamblers wouldn’t arrive for an hour or so yet, which gave him plenty of time to enjoy his food.

  Being the youngest son of an earl and with very little responsibilities, Charles had decided upon a life of cards, merriment, and quite frankly, as much money as he could get his hands on. He had become quite proficient in his gambling and was rather proud of the fact that he had managed to add to his coffers quite substantially over the last year.

  His father despaired of him, but Charles did not give that even a moment of his consideration. His father, as far as Charles was concerned, needed to worry about his eldest son and heir, Tyndale, who was everything Charles was not. No doubt he would make an excellent earl when the time came.

  Charles, of course, being without title but still being very well respected and with a substantial fortune, had no wish to go into the army nor into any sort of profession that required him to work particularly hard. Nor did he wish to marry and produce any number of children, given that this would require him to settle down and become a reasonably respectable gentleman. No, Charles was quite content with his life, such as it was. It was simple, enjoyable, and lacked the cares and considerations so many other gentlemen of the nobility had to bear.

  He looked around the inn as the plate of what appeared to be some sort of stew was placed before him. Choosing to speak the language of the country he was in, he passed the servant boy a couple of coins as he thanked him, seeing the young boy’s eyes light up. That had been a month’s wages, Charles was quite certain, but it meant very little to him.

  At this present time, he had more money than he knew what to do with, although that did not stop him from gambling. It would, he supposed, be helpful should he ever lose heavily, although he did not intend to do so tonight. This gambling circle was bound to be profitable, even if most of them were Frenchmen.

  Charles chewed slowly, savouring the taste of the stew, which even though it had not looked particularly appetising, was, in fact, quite tasty. He often came to France in between the two London Seasons, finding it rather enjoyable to leave the country of his birth for a time. After he played his games here, however, he would have to think about returning to England, knowing that the little Season was soon to be upon them. There would be more gambling, more cards and the like back in London, and he was, he had to admit, ready to return.

  Of course, what with it soon being Christmas, he would have to ensure that he paid an extended visit to his father, as was expected. It was not any particular trouble, although Charles was quite sure he would be given an earful by his father at some point as though he were still a small boy in need of correction.

  He glowered at no one in particular, thinking darkly about his home and family. He simply wanted to be allowed to live as he pleased without being dragged over the coals for being less than proper.

  “Stop! Let me go!”

  The door to the inn slammed open, startling him. A gentleman of some description walked proudly into the inn, his eyes roving around the taproom as though they all ought to be in admiration of him. Just behind him came two other men, holding a young lady between them.

  “Please!” The young lady was crying now, as two footmen dragged her up the staircase in the corner of the room. The hood of her cloak fell back, and her blonde curls cascaded down her back.

  Charles felt his stomach twist, his anger suddenly burning hot. He did not know this gentleman nor who this young woman was, but to see anyone so treated made his blood run hot.

  “Get her up there!” the gentleman called out, a dark grin sliding across his face. “And make sure she's… ready for me.”

  A few sniggers broke out across the taproom, making Charles’s lip curl. The gentleman in question laughed aloud, turning towards the innkeeper who had approached him. Evidently, this had all been arranged.

  “Faversham!” Another gentleman walked into the inn, a small, mousy looking maid trailing behind him. She did not look to the left or right but rather kept her face downcast, although Charles was quite sure he could see her lips trembling.

  “You don’t have to linger,” Charles heard Lord Faversham say. “I’ll get her to the church tomorrow. She won’t have anything left in her to refuse me.”

  The other man grinned as a cloth bag filled with coins was deposited into his hand by Lord Faversham. “I hope you enjoy her,” he commented, shoving the young maid forward with a hard push. “Although I’d recommend giving her this maid of hers when the time comes to prepare her for church. The only reason I kept her on is because she’s good at calming the chit down—and very good with a bit of powder, if you understand my meaning.”

  Lord Faversham laughed harshly, whilst Charles was forced to put down his cutlery as his fingers curled into fists. He wanted to get to his feet, slam a fist into Lord Faversham’s face, and then go in search of the young lady, whoever she was. It was not that she had caught his attention in some way, not that he found himself suddenly head over heels in love with her, but rather that he could not bear to see nor hear a young lady being treated in such an appalling manner.

  “I won’t need her yet,” Lord Faversham said, dismissing the maid to a corner of the taproom. “You sit there until I call for you. Not that it’ll be for an hour or so.”

  The other gentleman suddenly frowned. “You won’t…?”

  Lord Faversham lifted an eyebrow. “She’s got to learn to respect me first, St James. I’ll have her as my wife, and she’ll welcome me to her bed. No, I’ll wait until we’re wed, but she’s going to have to learn not to put up a fight.” A crooked grin crossed his unhandsome face, his eyes darting towards the top of the stairs. “I won’t have a disobedient wife, and the sooner she learns that, the better.”

  The other gentleman, the one Charles had heard called St James, nodded, every trace of unease wiped from his face at once. “Very good,” he said with a quick shrug. “You know best, Faversham. After all, she is to be your wife!” He slapped one hand down on Lord Faversham’s shoulder. “And all the best to you. I’m just glad to have her taken off my hands!”

  Lord Faversham grinned and said something under his breath that Charles could not hear, although the lewd expression on the gentleman’s face had his anger burning all the brighter. He watched Lord Faversham closely as St James took his leave, wondering what the gentleman intended to do to the lady in order to make her compliant.

  He did not have to wonder for long.

  “Miss Julianna is waiting for you, my lord.” One of the footmen who had escorted the young lady up the staircase now returned, looking a little dishevelled.

  “Is that so?” Lord Faversham
murmured, his eyes burning with an evil delight. “Waiting for me, is she?”

  The footman appeared a little uncertain, clearing his throat as he inclined his head. “She is a little upset, my lord.”

  “As I expected her to be,” Lord Faversham replied drolly. “Now, where is my riding whip?”

  Charles’s breath caught in his chest, his eyes suddenly catching onto those of the maid, who was staring at him with horror in her expression. He did not know why she was looking at him, why she appeared to be silently begging him for help, and yet he could not look away. The thought of Lord Faversham taking his whip to the young lady who had been forced up the stairs sent a wave of nausea all through him, his stomach roiling with disgust.

  Lord Faversham chuckled again, finding the riding whip on his person, and then with something of a flourish, began to climb the stairs towards the hapless young lady.

  Charles forced himself to remain in his seat, telling himself repeatedly that this had nothing to do with him. It was not any of his business, for he was not acquainted with any of these people who had only just now come into the inn.

  And yet, still, the young maid was staring at him, her grey eyes boring into his.

  Lord Faversham bellowed something loudly, and Charles heard a faint sound of distress echo down the staircase towards them. The taproom quieted for a moment before bursting back into life again. It did not seem to matter to anyone what occurred in the rooms above, for they had all decided that such matters were naught to do with them, and therefore, they were more than able to ignore it.

  “Which is just what I must do,” Charles told himself, digging his fork back into the stew and lifting it to his mouth. The food, which had tasted so wonderful only a few minutes before, now turned to ash in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed hard, throwing back his whisky in an attempt to clear his mind of the troubling thoughts.

  “Sir?”

  He looked up to see the little maid standing before him, her hands clutched in front of her. “Yes?” he asked, arching an eyebrow as he watched her.

  “You…” She trailed off, looking terribly confused, as though she did not know how to say whatever was on her mind.

  Charles allowed himself to study her, seeing the tracks of tears still evident on her face.

  “You saw my mistress?” she asked eventually, her eyes not quite managing to rest on his.

  “I did,” he admitted quietly.

  Her hands grew white as she tensed. “Might I beg for your help on her behalf?” she whispered, her eyes wide with fright as she threw a glance over her shoulder as though expecting Lord Faversham to appear at any moment. “My mistress, Miss Julianna Wade, is without a single soul to assist her, and I cannot simply leave her to her fate.”

  Charles took another mouthful of stew and chewed slowly. “It is not my business,” he stated firmly, despite the clamouring of his heart. “I am truly sorry for the struggle she is enduring, but I—”

  “She has no one!”

  The maid’s interjection startled Charles, and he set down his fork to study the girl a little more closely. The maid’s dedication to her mistress was to be admired.

  “Her father is presumed dead, her mother gone before him, and despite her own wishes, her uncle has engaged her to that… that… despicable cad Lord Faversham!” This had evidently taken some courage to say aloud, for the maid flushed dark, although her chin rose slightly.

  “Miss Wade has refused him on many occasions, has tried her best to ignore her uncle’s demands, and so they have forced her to comply. She was given laudanum so that they might bundle her into a carriage. They knew that no man of God in England would accept such a marriage when the lady is so obviously reluctant, and so they have brought her here. I believe Lord Faversham has friends in France that he intends to stay with once he is wed to Miss Julianna. But you can see, sir, can you not, that Lord Faversham is a cruel and unjust man! He is not a good man for my mistress.”

  Charles considered all of this for a moment or two before shaking his head. “As much as I find myself conflicted by your mistress’s difficulties and the trouble that is being caused by Lord Faversham, I find that I am quite unable to help,” he stated firmly. “She is not my concern. Besides which, what is it that you think I can do?”

  The maid dropped her head, her expression one of despair. “I don’t know, sir,” she admitted softly. “I saw you watching my mistress and then Lord Faversham, and I thought… I thought you might be able to help.” Her voice trembled as she added, “Please forgive me. I am quite desperate. My mistress is an innocent!”

  Shaking his head and ignoring his attack of conscience, Charles put on a tight smile.

  “I am sorry,” he said firmly. “But I cannot involve myself. This is naught to do with me.”

  The maid looked utterly distraught, but Charles dismissed her with a quick wave of his hand. He could not let his heart overrule his head. He was here to play cards and to win as much money as he could. A young lady in trouble, despite his awareness of her upset, was nothing whatsoever to do with him. He had to simply forget that he had ever seen her.

  THREE

  Thwack.

  The dull thud told Charles that the person being chastised in such a disgraceful manner had fallen to the floor. His stomach turned over itself as he tried to focus on the cards in his hand, ignoring the fact that he knew the person in trouble to be none other than a certain Miss Wade.

  “A good hand, sir?”

  A ripple of laughter went around the group as Charles looked up from his cards, aware that he had not played his turn for some time.

  “A very good hand,” he bluffed, putting an easy smile on his face. “In fact, it is getting rather difficult to know what to throw away!” he tried to fix his mind back onto the game, tried to ignore the stifled cries he could hear coming from upstairs and the distressed look that the maid was sending him from across the room.

  He did not know why the servant had come to him in order to seek aid for her mistress. Perhaps it was as she had said, simply because of how he had appeared when he had overheard Lord Faversham. Whatever the reason, she had not stopped sending despairing glances in his direction for the two hours she had sat waiting.

  Forcing himself to ignore the faint sounds of distress, Charles threw out a card, only to realise too late that he had picked the wrong one entirely. Groaning inwardly, he settled a look of contentment on his face as though this was what he had intended to do all the time. Some of the gentlemen shot him a sharp look, whilst others grinned behind their hands.

  The inn was not particularly busy, although he had not expected it to be, given that the town of Bagnoles-de-l’Orne was not all that large. However, he could tell that those within the inn were fully aware of what was going on upstairs, for the cries of Miss Wade had brought furrows of concern to a few of the men’s faces.

  The innkeeper’s wife was whispering furiously into her husband’s ear, although he continued to bat her away impatiently. It was, of course, not their business what their patrons got up to in any of the rooms, although Charles knew the lady was not at all pleased to hear a young innocent woman mistreated.

  Closing his eyes, Charles battled with his mind yet again. The young lady had evidently been in some distress even entering the inn, and if what the maid said was true, then she had no one to turn to.

  But that does not mean you have to involve yourself.

  Despite logic and the law dictating otherwise, Charles found he could not stomach what was happening any longer.

  “Gentlemen,” he said suddenly, rising from the table. “Might I call for a short respite?”

  The other men at the table all looked a little surprised, with one or two frowning rather heavily.

  “I shall, of course, buy the next round,” Charles added, seeing the frowns disappear almost immediately. “I confess that I am rather parched.”

  There were sounds of agreement almost at once. The men gladly got to their feet, setting th
eir cards down carefully. Charles was relieved that the mere mention of a drink had allowed them to take a short break in their game, for he was quite certain that, he could not stand another minute without going to Miss Wade’s assistance. Even a rake such as he was not so far gone as to ignore the pleas of an innocent.

  But before he could take action someone shouted down the stairs, “A whisky, my good man!”

  Charles’s skin crawled as Lord Faversham appeared like an evil omen. The stairs creaked noisily under his weight as he slowly made his way down.

  “In fact, just give me the bottle.” Lord Faversham laughed, shoving his way through the other patrons towards the counter. “I have had a very pleasant evening thus far, and I intend to make the most of it!”

  Charles saw the maid shrink back in her seat, her eyes wide with fright as Lord Faversham threw back his first glass of whisky before serving himself another generous measure.

  Her eyes darted towards the staircase, but still she did not move. To go to her mistress now, when Lord Faversham had not permitted it, was only going to bring her punishment.

  His heart lurched in his chest as Lord Faversham started muttering to himself, giving himself congratulations for the wicked deed that he had just done. Charles eyes closed of their own accord, fighting down the urge to beat Lord Faversham to a pulp.

  “Stupid woman,” Lord Faversham muttered darkly to no one in particular. “She’ll know not to defy me again.”

  Before he knew what he was doing, Charles stepped forward. “I hear you are to be wed, sir,” he commented, putting as bright a smile on his face as he could. “My many congratulations.” He bowed low and thrust a coin in the innkeeper’s face. “Your best brandy for this gentleman.”

  Lord Faversham looked a little surprised but then grinned, evidently accepting Charles’s congratulations to be genuine.