by Alexia Praks
“Merrick?” Maria laughed harshly. “You call him Merrick now? How dare you?” She slapped Christine on the cheek.
Christine sucked in her breath. She was very surprised at the sudden attack.
“Ah, you think I can’t do that to you, do you, girl?” The woman laughed.
“What do you want?” Christine asked, her voice shaking.
“What do I want?” Maria snorted softly. “Nay, girl, I am here to warn you.”
“Warn me? About what?” Christine asked.
“Ah, so young and naïve. About Merrick, that’s what.”
“What? But, why?” Christine was confused.
“Do you think—” Maria grabbed a bunch of Christine’s hair and yanked her forward, “that Merrick would marry a low-born girl like you? Nay, girl, he will not. Listen well and learn for I have good advice for you.” Maria rubbed her fingers over Christine’s hair. It was smooth and soft. She stared at the young woman, and her heart burnt. God, how beautiful this girl was. The light high behind her head made her look angelic indeed. And that made Maria’s heart twist with hatred. How dare this girl come and steal Merrick from her. He was hers. He was never anyone else’s. She had vowed to get even, and even she would get.
“He is only using you,” she said.
Christine shook her head, and her tears tumbled down her cheeks. “No, he’s not like that,” she cried quietly.
“Ah, you know him so well then? Better than I who have known him for years?” Maria said. “Girl, he is using you. He likes to play with innocent girls like you. When he is satisfied and tired of you, he will indeed look for another. He will not marry you, and that is what you are looking for, is it not?”
“But he asked me. He already asked me to—”
“To what?” Maria shouted.
“To marry him. To be his wife,” Christine said.
He had asked this girl to marry him? How could he? She glanced down and saw the beautiful stone that she heard rumors about on Christine’s finger. She had heard that only the future Countess of Huntingdon was allowed to wear that particular ring. Was Merrick serious about this chit? How she wanted to yank that ring from the girl’s finger and place it on hers instead. How she craved it.
Maria took a deep breath and said, “And you believe him?” She sighed when she saw Christine nodding her head. She glared at the younger girl’s hair. She had the urge to yank that mop of golden curls and burn it.
“Like I said, you are naïve,” she said instead.
Christine looked at the older woman and frowned. “Please go.”
“I will go, girl, but hear me well. Merrick has asked me to marry him too,” she lied, eyeing the girl with hatred.
“What?” Christine twisted around to look at Maria. “But he can’t. He—”
“Can’t, my girl?” Maria laughed softly. “Do you believe what he said? Aye, he has asked me, and then without so much as how or why, he broke it off. And now he has asked you, too. He no doubt will ask Anne, too, then. But perhaps he will marry her for she is, after all, a lady and an heiress.” Maria saw Christine pale, and her heart glowed. She sighed yet again and turned to the door. Her work here was done. Her hand was on the door handle when she thought to add, “Oh, and by the way, did you know that he killed his wife? I suppose she was too much of a hindrance for him to enjoy life.” She laughed and then sailed out the door.
Those words were breaking Christine’s heart. But it couldn’t be true. What Maria had said was a lie. Aye, she had lied. But had Merrick told her the truth? That he loved her and wanted to marry her?
Oh Lord, everything was in chaos in her mind.
But she loved him.
Numb, she turned toward the window. She saw Merrick and Lady Anne standing in seclusion from the rest of the group. Anne was laughing at what Merrick was saying. From where she stood, Lord, how they looked right together. Could he have loved Anne and all the time he was playing with her? A mere common girl? Nay! Oh God, how she hurt. Merrick, don’t lie to me. Love me. Her heart cried in anguish.
* * *
The day of the ball was getting near, and he had not uttered one word to her of marriage. She was getting panicky. Was he going to propose to her or was he not? But the servants had gossiped that he would. She was sure that he would, and everybody was sure that he would. But what if he did not? Only one week. The time was too short for her liking. She must act fast. If the earl did not act now, then as her mother had put it she would have to give him a push. And push him she would because the rest of her life depended on it.
“The flowers are beautiful at this time of year, my lord,” Anne said.
“Hmm, they are indeed,” Merrick responded without much interest.
Anne had led him, without him noticing, to a very secluded area where her playacting was to begin. Here no one could see them, though with a slight scream from the maid everyone could hear them.
“Lovely, is it not, my lord?” She smiled at him and suddenly pretended to sprain her ankle. “Oh dear!” she gently sighed and fell to the ground.
Merrick leapt to catch her in time. He was supporting her in his arms when Anne wrapped her arms around his neck and roughly pulled him to her. They fell on the ground together.
“Oh, my lord,” she pretended to sound very breathless.
“Are you all right?” he asked as he pushed himself up.
Anne panicked; she didn’t want him to get up just yet.
“I don’t know, my lord.” She breathed and closed her eyes, pretending to faint.
“Anne?” Merrick asked. “Hold still,” he said and gently laid her head against the tree. “I’ll find a maid to help you.”
“No!” Anne shouted as she tried to prevent him from leaving her. But it was too late. Merrick was already up and turning away. But he didn’t move; he just stood there and stared.
Christine was not ten feet away from them—watching them.
Merrick frowned when he saw her look of horror. He took a step toward her, but she shook her head as tears flowed down her cheeks.
“Chris!” Merrick said, alarmed.
“So it’s true,” Christine cried.
“What’s true?” Merrick asked, confused.
Christine turned, pushed away the maid who had just arrived on the scene, and ran back to the Hall.
“Chris!” Merrick shouted. But Christine did not stop. He shook his head and was about to run after Christine when his arm was caught.
“My lord,” Anne said. “My ankle, I think it is sprained.”
“Anne,” Merrick said through gritted teeth in frustration. “You!” He turned to the maid on the ground. The maid paled when she thought the earl knew of their plan.
“My lord, I didn’t. It wasn’t—”
“Take care of Lady Anne,” he instructed and ran toward the Hall.
With tears in her eyes, Christine ran toward the Hall.
So it was true. She couldn’t believe it. How could he betray her? How could he make a fool out of her? She shook her head and ran up the stairs. She collided with Mrs. Ross, who was coming down. The woman caught her by the arms and looked into her face with concern.
“Master Chris? Is everything all right?” she asked.
Christine could only shake her head, push the housekeeper’s hands from her arms, and run.
She pushed the door open and was about to run into her room when between her tears she saw her grandmother about to open the door.
“Grandmamma?” she cried.
Mrs. Smith turned and saw Christine running toward her. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she opened her arms for her granddaughter. Christine ran into Mrs. Smith’s opened arms, and they hugged tightly.
“Oh, my sweet.”
“Grandmamma,” Christine sobbed and clung to the woman.
“Hush now, love. Everything is going to be all right now.”
“But, Grandmamma, ’tis the earl. He knew that I—oh, Grandmamma, I’m sorry,” Christine cried.
“I know, love,
I know. I won’t let him make a fool out of you. I won’t let you suffer, my sweet. I won’t.” Mrs. Smith cupped Christine’s face. “’Tis my fault, Christine. ’Tis my fault I did not teach you the ways of the world, of how a man can manipulate an innocent girl. ’Tis my fault. We cannot let this masquerade go on any longer, my sweet. We must leave now. He will marry that girl and leave you stranded like—darling, we must leave now.”
Christine was tormented at the thought of leaving Merrick. Should she stay and, as her grandmother put it, let Merrick make a fool out of her? But she loved him.
“Grandmamma, I love him,” she cried, her body shaking uncontrollably.
“My dear, would you stay and let him make a fool of you? Does he love you as you love him? Will he marry you?” Mrs. Smith said logically.
Christine sobbed. Was her grandmother right? Had Merrick meant what he said? That he loved her? Or had he only said that to woo her? So perhaps she had turned a blind eye and deaf ears to what everybody else was saying. Everybody knew that Merrick would ask Anne to marry him, and she so stupidly had believed the lies he had told her. That he loved her and wanted to marry her. Nay, she couldn’t stay and let him make a fool out of her.
“Aye, Grandmamma, we shall leave,” she cried.
“Leave now?” Merrick shouted. “Why? What is this about?” He was astounded and angry.
Christine turned away from him, refusing even to look at the man she loved but who had lied to her.
Mrs. Smith looked at Merrick. “You, my lord have the gall to even ask such a question?” she said coldly, her eyes narrowed. “You are no different from any of them. Just because you are of noble birth and are rich, it does not mean you should have the power to ruin a girl’s life. Do you hear me? You have no right at all.”
Merrick shook his head. “What’s this, Mrs. Smith? I don’t understand.” He raked his fingers through his hair. When Mrs. Smith just shook her head without replying to his question, he turned to Christine. “Come, Christine. Tell me, my sweet. What’s this about?”
She turned her teary eyes to him and shook her head. “How could you?” she cried.
Merrick came to her and pulled her into his arms. She pushed him back in disgust.
“Christine,” he said weakly. “What is wrong, my sweet?” he asked as he pulled her back into his arms.
She shook her head and drummed at his chest with her fists to make him let her go.
“Damn you, you betrayed me. You lied to me,” she cried. “I hate you. Let me go.” She tried to push him away. But the man was strong, and she couldn’t even budge his imprisoning arms.
“I have never lied to you, Christine. Just listen, I—”
“You have never? Then what did I just see? Merrick? My lord? Answer me that,” she shouted.
Merrick’s eyes widened as realization hit him. He let go of her arms and cupped her face. “My love, it is not what it seemed.”
“Then what?” she asked, sobbing.
Merrick moved to kiss her forehead. “It’s not what you think. Anne sprained her ankle and she fell—”
She pushed him away and took three steps back. “Tell your lies to your other lovers. I don’t want to hear them,” she said quietly and stared hard at the ring on her finger. Slowly, she took it off and handed it to him.
“What’s this?” he asked, incredulous.
“It’s over, my lord,” she said quietly and placed the ring in his palm. Slowly, with her head bowed and tears blinding her eyes, she walked out the room.
Mrs. Smith shook her head, and with a heavy heart she left.
Merrick just stared at the ring in his hand, and he couldn’t seem to think. What had happened? Everything was going just fine until now. Oh, God, was the torment in his life never to end? Must he lose all the people he loved? One by one, just like that? Would God ever relieve him from the torture in this life? Merrick howled with anguish. The sound reflected his tormented heart.
TWENTY-ONE
Talk and laughter drifted pass Merrick’s deaf ears. The guests were gathering in the drawing room, and he was still hiding in his study, slumped in his armchair, not giving a damn about anything.
“Come, Merrick, you have been holed up in here for seven days now,” Max said.
“Shut up and leave me alone, Max,” Merrick snarled, his bloodshot eyes glaring at the other man. He finished the last of the whisky in one gulp. The fiery liquid burnt all the way down to his belly. The intense heat did not torment him enough. He wanted more. He wanted his mind to slide into oblivion. He poured himself more whisky.
Max caught his hand roughly. “Enough, Merrick. You want to kill yourself?” he asked in disgust.
Merrick looked up to his friend and raised his eyebrows mockingly. “I would welcome it, friend.” He shoved Max’s hand away and poured the rest into his glass. He was about to drain the lot into his mouth when Max yanked the glass away and downed it himself.
“Enough is enough, Merrick. You have guests waiting. ’Tis your ball. You should be out there welcoming them.” He caught Merrick by the arm and helped him up from the chair.
“Leave me alone, damn you, Max,” Merrick groaned. “Leave me to the devil.”
There were three knocks at the door, and then the butler walked in. He tried not to show how sad he felt about his master’s behavior of late. To be honest, he thought it was even worse than when the earl had lost his wife and son. His lordship was killing himself for sure. But what could he, a butler, do?
“What is it, Ross?” Max frowned when the butler did not say a thing.
“Oh, Your Grace, ’tis Peter. He is back and here to see his lordship,” Ross said.
“Peter, good. Bring him in,” Max said and released Merrick, who slumped back into his seat.
Seconds later, Peter was shown into the study. The man took one look at his master and raised his eyebrows.
“Your Grace.” Peter bowed to Max.
“Glad that you are here, man. Good news, I hope?” Max asked.
“Aye, Your Grace, good news indeed. And, err, his lordship?” He looked at Merrick. He almost had a heart attack when he saw the untidy cravat, the dark hair in disarray, the rough, unshaven chin, and the wrinkled shirt that he had no doubt would take at least three hours of hard labor to straighten. Though Peter was a private detective, he was a very grand one indeed. His breeches and coat were of the best quality and design, and his hair was always neat and stylish as the fashion went. He took pride in his clothing and was quite shocked to see the great earl in such a state of drunken mess.
“Ah, my loyal agent. Good that you are back, eh?” Merrick said sarcastically.
“My lord, is something the matter?” Peter asked.
“Nothing is the matter. Just give the damn news,” Merrick shouted.
Peter’s heart almost jumped out of his chest. Never before had he seen his master this way. The Earl of Huntingdon that he knew before was always in control in very messy situations. He supposed there was a first time for everything.
“Well, man, lost your tongue?” Merrick shouted again.
“Don’t mind him, Peter. He is drunk and right now quite sulky,” Max said coolly.
“I am not drunk, damn it!” Merrick growled, and then more quietly he said, “I am not sulky.”
“The news, Peter,” Max intervened.
Peter looked from Max to Merrick. What had gone on here? He hesitated for only a second and then began. “My lord, the family that Lord Queensbury is looking for, I’ve found out where they are.”
“Good. We will tell the earl tonight,” Merrick said.
“Peter,” Max said, “help me take Merrick up so that Paris can swing his magic wand to make him presentable to society. The ball is tonight, and they are expecting him.” He hooked Merrick’s arm over his shoulder. Peter hurriedly took the other, and they dragged Merrick up to his room.
* * *
Mrs. Smith glanced at Christine sitting near the window, staring out into nothingness. He
r heart ached for the girl. Am I doing the right thing? she asked herself again. She was scared that she might lose Christine. The girl had not eaten very much for days now. Her complexion was pale, and her eyes shadowed. She looked so frail.
“Christine?” She touched the girl’s shoulder. “You should eat something, my love.”
Christine shook her head. “I’m not hungry, Grandmamma.”
“But, Christine, if you don’t eat, you’ll get sick,” Tyson intervened. He brought her some broth in a small bowl and held it out to her. “You must eat,” he said. “Else Merrick won’t be happy with you,” the boy commented logically.
The name Merrick caused Christine’s tears to flow yet again and her heart to constrict painfully. She shook her head, got up, and pushed Tyson away from her. Both Tyson and the bowl of broth fell to the floor. The boy started to whimper.
Oh God, now what had she done? Tyson was innocent in all this. Why did she act in such a way toward the boy she loved as her very own brother?
“Oh, Tyson, I’m sorry,” she cried. She hugged him and sobbed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“Christine? Why are you crying so much now? Did… did Merrick beat you?” the boy asked.
“Nay, my love,” Christine shook her head.
“I know he won’t. He’s too nice to beat you,” Tyson said, nodding his head.
Christine bit her lip. Aye, Merrick would never beat her, and she knew that. He was always so kind. But then why did he betray her? She shook her head and commanded herself to stop thinking about him. It seemed no matter how hard she tried, her thoughts would always stray to him. She would see his handsome face smiling at her, his teal-blue eyes looking at her with love, with lust, with anger, and with… longing.
She got up abruptly. She couldn’t bear it, seeing Merrick’s face in her mind’s eye. She threw herself on her bed and cried.
“My love,” Mrs. Smith stroked her hair. “I am sorry, my sweet. I know you love Merrick, but it is just that I have lost your mother, Sophia, that way, and I certainly don’t want to lose you the same way,” she said sadly.