His to Keep (Regency Scoundrels Book 2)

by Mathews, Marly

  She considered his offer. Maybe she should take him up on it. She had a feeling she’d need her rest once she came face to face with his mother.

  As the carriage rolled along, she fell into the first restful slumber she’d had since being whisked away from all that she knew.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The carriage rumbled to a halt, jarring Gemma from her deep slumber.

  “Have we, have we arrived?” she asked sleepily.

  “We are home.” He still held her firmly against him, and her head had been nestled against his chest.

  “Your home, not mine.” She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “It isn’t too late for you to turn this carriage around and take me back to my people.”

  “It was too late for that when I whisked you away from Welford Abbey the way that I did.”

  She kept her eyes fixed on the other side of the carriage. She couldn’t bear to meet his gaze. His dark eyes made her want to melt, while she knew she had to keep fighting her attraction for him. If she slept with Archie, there would be no escaping her feelings for him. As long as she tried to keep him at an arm’s length, she was safe.

  The carriage opened. She stared down at footmen decked out in gold livery. She frowned. So, he was telling her the truth. A castle loomed majestically behind the footmen. Her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes scanned their surroundings.

  “Wherever we are, it is beautiful,” she gasped.

  “You have a keen set of eyes.”

  “I would say we are in Ireland…” her voice trailed off as she looked at him to gauge his reaction.

  “We might be at that,” he said cryptically. He looked to the grand door as it opened.

  She followed his gaze. A woman with bright red hair flew down the steps.

  “Is that the Duchess?”

  “It is.” He smiled. Suddenly, she felt exposed. She instinctively plastered herself up against him. He had her arm clasped beneath his, and they had to look like a perfectly devoted couple in his mother’s eyes.

  “Archie!” His mother’s voice sounded like heaven. She had an even prettier sounding voice than Elizabeth’s. And, her stunning beauty made Gemma feel quite plain.

  “Mama!” Archie released her briefly to embrace his mother in a quick hug. She beamed over at Gemma.

  “I don’t think we’ve been introduced, my dear.” Her eyes went to Gemma’s ungloved hands. “Archie, what have you been up to?” Her blue eyes narrowed, as she pinned them on her son.

  “Mama, maybe we should go inside before I continue—I would like to see Papa, and…”

  “You shall explain yourself now. It’s a calm day, though we are due for a storm soon, I can feel it in my bones.”

  “Mama…”

  “Archie, explain now.”

  “I am Archie’s wife, Lady Northam, Your Grace,” Gemma said, bobbing into a quick curtsy. “We were married about one month ago.”

  “Married? I thought you were quite set in your ways, Archie. I never dreamt you’d marry so soon, and oh, but you did marry a bonny little lass. However, I do bemoan not being at your nuptials.”

  “They were a quiet affair, Your Grace. You didn’t miss out on anything,” Gemma said softly.

  “Indeed,” the Duchess’s eyes swept over Gemma, in silent appraisal. She was summing up her opinion of her, and Gemma hoped she would not find her lacking.

  Her mouth grew dry. Another carriage drew up behind theirs. She slipped her hand out of Archie’s suddenly slack grip, and watched as the carriage door opened.

  “Charles!” She hadn’t meant to shout his name, but seeing him hearty and whole made her heart soar.

  “Aunt Gemma!” Charles pulled his hand out of Isla’s grip and ran toward her. She quickly glanced back at Archie. His eyes were wide. She could blow his ship right out of the water right now, and grab Charles and try to flee. But where would she go? Wherever they were, they seemed to be in an isolated part of the country. They lived quite a bucolic life out here. She had no idea where she was going, and she’d never been gifted at running blind.

  She embraced Charles and lifted him off his feet. She quickly put him down when she remembered how heavy he was. She could hear Skye barking happily in the background.

  Archie caught up with them. His stern gaze met hers. She still clasped Charles’s hand in her own.

  The boy’s eyes widened. With his fair hair and blue eyes, he reminded her of Mallory. She dragged out a shattering breath, attempting to calm her somewhat rattled nerves.

  “Is this your brother, my dear?” Obviously, Archie’s mother had missed what Charles had called her.

  “Gemma is Charles’s aunt,” Archie explained, wincing slightly.

  “Oh.” Archie’s mother looked disappointed. “Your brother or sister must miss him he is such a handsome lad.”

  “Actually, mother, Charles is Gemma’s ward. And, now the two of us are his guardians. Gemma’s brother is dead.”

  Her heart raced. She started to have difficulty breathing. Hearing Archie refer to Mallory as being dead made her chest clench. The restrictive corset she wore only made the problem worse.

  “Aunt Gemma?” Charles looked frantic. “You have to get a hold of your breathing—she’s done this before, but Uncle—”

  Archie cut Charles off before he could make matters worse. Isla appeared out of nowhere, and started to massage her back.

  “Just breathe easy, my lady, and inhale this. It will open up your airways, and relax you so you can recover yourself.

  “You should take her to your chambers right away, Archie. She looks frail. Does she have a history of illness in her family?”

  Gemma cleared her throat, as her world stopped slipping away. “I’ll be fine.” Her voice sounded raspy, but at least now she could breathe without feeling her lungs burning as if they were on fire.

  “I insist, my dear. You still look like you need to have some time to recover. Go and allow Archie to attend to you.” The authority in the duchess’s voice told Gemma that she wasn’t used to having her orders questioned.

  “Yes, indeed, Mama. You are quite right.”

  He reached for her hand, pulling her away from Charles. Charles looked inclined to protest, but something in the look shared between Archie and he made him think otherwise.

  “I think you should go with Lord Northam, Aunt Gemma.” Charles nodded his head, in grave certainty.

  “I actually don’t have the energy to have words with you,” she said, too tired to make a scene. Allowing Archie to take her arm, and lead her up the steps to the castle. The grand stairwell in front of them made her breath hitch again in her throat. It was beautiful! Taking one last moment, she turned around. Cherub statues and dragon gargoyles flanked the Estate.

  She could hear Archie’s mother following them. “You two get refreshed upstairs. I’m going to see to Charles getting something to eat. He’s no doubt ready for a bite to eat. I also have to make certain that your father has a few sips of the white soup he has around this time of the day.”

  Gemma heard her stomach growl, come to think of it, she could do with a bite to eat as well. Some crusty buttered bread and cream soup, oh, how that would make her happy. Her mouth continued watering. Archie was already pulling her up the steps. She looked longingly back at Charles and the Duchess as they disappeared out of her sight.”

  “Your mother didn’t seem too pleased to have me as her new daughter-in-law.”

  “That’s probably because she’s familiar with my awfully bad habit of taking whatever I want, when I want it.”

  “I expect you usually have more success.”

  “I took you as my wife, didn’t I?”

  “Aye, you did,” she said softly. “That doesn’t mean you shall be able to keep me.”

  “Oh, I will be able to keep you,” he said.

  “Did your brother follow us here?”

  “He might have,” he said.

  “Your brother is mad. He should be carte
d away.”

  “My brother is not mad.”

  “A man as reckless as he is should be thought of as mad.”

  “He is not as mad as your brother,” Archie pointed out.

  “My brother is not mad. If he’s mad, then, so are you, Archie.”

  “Aye, but I’m not selfish, and I don’t use people the way St. Martin uses people. Look at the way he got Elizabeth to marry him—he ruined her first, and disgraced her—he lied to her—”

  “Oh, do shut your bone box,” she grumbled, slapping him soundly on the face.

  “That is the second or third time you have hit me, I do think I have lost count.” He flexed his jaw, pulling her toward him. “You, my lady, have just strained my patience to the breaking point. I shouldn’t have to show you just how vile that clever little sea hawk of yours is—you should already know and yet, here you are attacking me. You are most vexing.” He opened a door to what she assumed were his private chambers. “You look like you are going to scream. Don’t even think about it, Lady Northam, if you do, I shall respond in kind to your slap, and I shall give you a spanking that will make it quite impossible for you to sit still for quite some time.”

  The seriousness of his threat hit home. He was quite vexed with her.

  “I am confining you to these rooms.” He released her, and gave her a little nudge into the room. “You may muse upon your transgressions against me here. I shall have your meal brought up to you in a few minutes.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to see my mother. If I don’t, she’ll be up here making inquiries. She’s almost as nosy as you are.”

  “Why didn’t you just take me somewhere where your mother wouldn’t be able to interfere?”

  “Because, my dear, I do not feel like it.”

  “No matter how irked you get…you shan’t…you shan’t break…”

  “Break the promise I made to you? I hate to admit it to you, Gemma, but I don’t break or go back on my word. You may depend upon my keeping every single promise I make to you. Louis-Daniel tells me that I am annoyingly honorable.” He winced slightly. “You should see the scrapes I’ve gotten him out of—it is a very wonder I don’t have grey hair!” he laughed, trying to put some levity into the room.

  She exhaled. “As long as it ends the way you want it to end. I think I’ve had my fill of you today, my lord.”

  “Well, I haven’t had my fill of you…however, I shall do your bidding,” he said, giving her a mock bow.

  “Good!” She shot back.

  He firmly shut the door. He couldn’t even slam it to give her the sense that what she had done was right. Turning to assess her surroundings, she contemplated her escape. If he wasn’t going to go back on his word—then, she would.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Archie, you sit down there, and tell me everything. I haven’t seen Louis-Daniel yet, where did he get off to?”

  “Louis-Daniel is taking his sweet time getting home.”

  “No doubt visiting his fancy woman in town,” his mother snorted.

  “No doubt,” Archie sighed, scrubbing his hand vigorously over his face. He wanted to strangle Gemma while making love to her all at the same time. The feelings she inspired in him were going to drive him to distraction!

  “The two of you getting up to no good is enough to give me a head full of grey or white hairs,” she sighed. “I don’t like the caged look in Lady Gemma’s eyes. She looks very ill at ease. What did you do, Archie?”

  “Mama…I…I should like to see Papa before we start having a row.”

  She raised her hand, giving him the signal to remain silent. “Your father is resting right now, and I do not want him disturbed. Tell me, did Lady Northam marry you under duress?”

  “No, Mama, she did not.”

  “So…she married you willingly without being imposed upon either by yourself or by that wretch the former sea hawk?”

  “No, her brother didn’t force her hand. No one could force my wife into doing anything. She isn’t spineless, Mama.”

  “That relieves my worries considerably. In seeking out your revenge against St. Martin…you didn’t…you didn’t hurt anyone did you?”

  A pregnant pause hung between them. At length, he broke the silence.

  “No, Mama. One of my men, well…St. Martin was injured in the scuffle, though not seriously.”

  “Oh, Archie. I had thought you were only going to wound his pride. I didn’t want any blood to be shed.”

  “Didn’t you, Mama? Tell me that you thought I could get my revenge without shedding a few tears or a bit of blood.”

  “I didn’t want any innocents harmed.”

  “St. Martin is hardly an innocent, Mama. He deserves what happened to him, and then some.”

  “We shan’t argue about this, Son. I am happy you and Louis-Daniel escaped unscathed, now what shall you do with your wife? You can hardly have a happy marriage when you loathe her brother.”

  “We shall find a way.”

  “And the lad?”

  “He is St. Martin’s adopted son, some believe that he is his natural born son but a bastard, nonetheless.”

  “I see,” his mother went white. “We are not strangers to that kind of relationship.”

  “No, indeed not.”

  “I raised my husband’s bastard child. I commend the Duchess for deciding to do the same, some women…some women are not strong enough to do that.”

  “I suppose,” he said gruffly, “I suppose the Duchess can be commended. The Duke, however is still every bit a scoundrel.”

  “Mayhap, Archie, maybe we acted without cooling our heads. Perhaps, perhaps, revenge isn’t the way. The prospect of it hasn’t healed your father in any way. He’s still out of touch, lost in his mind somewhere. Every day I see him in such dire straits my heart breaks a little more. I cannot lose a son—and a husband, too. I think, I think we should make peace with the St. Martins, and you should return Gemma to them. I do not want to hate any longer, Archie.”

  “I only started out on this mission, Mama. I shan’t end it so prematurely. I want Gemma.”

  “You love her?” his mother asked, hope glimmering in her eyes.

  “I do,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

  “Then…then, you should hold onto her and keep her with your love. However, if she yearns for Sussex, if she shan’t stay by your side willingly—then, you should release her.”

  “She is my wife!”

  “I know, Son. But many in the ton live separate lives from the ones they have married. Maybe…maybe that is what you should do for Gemma. But…but I thought her name was Emma.”

  “I wouldn’t call her Emma. She doesn’t exactly like that.”

  “I should think not,” his mother laughed. “And St. Martin, he aided you in your quest to make his sister your wife?”

  “Oh, indeed. He thought he was enlisting me to be her keeper. He was in London with me when I went for the special license.”

  “I expect you thought it a grand jest.”

  “I did…until I met Gemma and realized the joke was on me,” he sighed heavily.

  “I shall not see another heart broken. If you love her—if you love her with all of your heart, Archie, make her see it. Make her know it. Make her feel it. Don’t let her go. Ignore what I told you to do. You must do what is best for your heart. I…why would St. Martin encourage the match?”

  “He didn’t want her to marry the man she had set her cap on.”

  “She set her cap on a man? Oh, she is quite the bluestocking, isn’t she? I like that.”

  “Indeed. And the man she set her cap on wasn’t worthy of her. I wouldn’t wish him on my worst enemy.”

  “And so that’s why you went through with it, and leg-shackled yourself to her.”

  “That…that and the fact that she stirred my heart, she woke something inside of me I had long since believed had died.”

  His mother looked at him with her sad
blue eyes. He wished they would brighten, but since his brother’s death they had held the same hauntingly shattered expression.

  “You said you were going to go and just give St. Martin the fright of his life. Does he even know that his sister is alive?”

  “You wanted me to strike out against him,” he pointed out.

  “I know,” she said, looking down at the cup of tea she had been sipping. “I think…I think you should sent a missive to her mother. Tell her that Lady Northam is alive and well, and that you are introducing her to the rest of your family. Try to repair the damage you have caused. Try to extend the olive branch. If we are lucky, they shall ignore this whole sad and sorry incident, and all shall be forgiven. If I can forgive St. Martin for what he has done, then…then his mother can forgive you for what you have done.”

  “I didn’t actually kidnap Gemma. She is my wife.”

  “Indeed she is, and yet you took her by using force. You hurt her brother and you took his little by-blow. Didn’t you?”

  “Aye, Mama. I did. I shall endeavor to do whatever you want of me.”

  “Good, Archie. It is the only way.”

  “I know that, Mama. As ever…you…you made me see sense. I don’t know if Louis-Daniel will look at it the same way.”

  “You leave Louis-Daniel to me.”

  “I shall send a message to the Dowager Duchess straightaway.”

  “Thank you. His mother can relay all communication to him. I see no need to send him a letter.”

  “He will be coming for me, Mama. I daresay he has already left. His mother won’t be able to talk any sense into him.”

  “Then, let him come. We shall cross that bridge when we come to it. I do not want any more bloodshed, and I won’t let him hurt you or Louis-Daniel.”

  Her eyes filled with pain, he hated seeing her look this way. “Mama, I will make him pay. I will make him feel the pain you’ve felt.”

  “No more of that talk. If he loves his sister like I suspect he does, you are already making him pay. You showed him that he is not as powerful as he thinks he was—you successfully knocked him down a peg or two—I’m sure he’s been properly humbled. Now, do go and fetch your brother back from whatever little slut’s bed he is warming. I think we both know whose bed he’s in. He needs to get an earful from me as well. Isla has told me what he did at the abbey. I know Isla was out in the thick of it, watching to make sure the two of you didn’t get yourself killed. Shooting the butler! Drawing St. Martin’s blood—I swear, his viciousness sometimes scares me. I don’t know what to do with him when he gets into one of those moods.”