by Dawn Brower
Helena laughed and shook her head. What a ridiculous notion, as if a woman didn’t have the head for contracts. She could bloody well do whatever the hell she wanted. “I’m not being—what did you say? Ridiculous?” Sarcasm dripped from her voice. “I don’t need anything from my father. The only reason I’m in this carriage with the two of you is because I wanted to return to London. The rest of it doesn’t matter and can be worked out when I feel like it.”
“Lady Helena,” Dashville pleaded. “If you’ll consider...”
“Consider what?” She lifted a brow. “Letting you dictate my life to me? No thank you.”
The carriage continued to rumble along the London streets, rocking back and forth in a steady rhythm as they conversed. The noises of the city echoed around them. Soon they’d be at the ducal townhouse where her father’s wrath would come down upon her, and she didn’t give a damn. Dashville had been silent the entire trip back. Brooding like a schoolboy caught with his pants down. So they’d kissed. A lot of young people kissed and were not running off to marry. Why should she? There was one reason she’d marry, and so far, she hadn’t heard any declarations of love.
“I’m not...”
“You are,” Helena replied scathingly. “And so is she. Well, I don’t have to listen to any of it, and I sure am not going to agree either. So, you can discuss this situation all you want, but it doesn’t mean much to me.”
“What do you want from me?” he asked softly.
Not much—only everything. She needed him to respect and cherish her. When she closed her eyes at night, she wanted to know he was by her side keeping her safe, and when she woke in the morning, she prayed she’d find him still there. But above all, she desired him, his heart, love and devotion. If she was lucky, she’d have all of that and maybe much, much more. A family, a future, and an unbreakable bond...
So far though, she had none of that. She had glances filled with guilt, and apologies she didn’t ask for. On top of that, Dashville and Lady Scarsbury were making plans for a wedding she not only hadn’t agreed to, but didn’t plan on attending. Maybe they should consult the potential bride before assuming she wanted any of it.
“To leave me alone,” she said quietly. “I don’t need you to take care of me, and I certainly don’t need your pity.”
The carriage stopped suddenly, and Helena pushed open the door, making her escape. She couldn’t stand it anymore. Her heart was breaking inside of her chest. How could he possibly think all she wanted from him was the protection of his name? She ran blindly through the streets, not really seeing anything around her. Tears streamed down her face. She wiped them away furiously, keeping a steady pace. She didn’t stop, not once, to see if he followed her.
“Helena,” someone shouted.
It might have been Dashville, it could have been anyone. Helena didn’t care. All she wanted was to escape and never look back. She’d go to her cottage and start again. That had been her original plan, and it was a sound one. Why had she ever thought she could have something more than that?
She stopped suddenly and dropped to her knees. Her breaths came in fast shallow pants. The world around her spun, and she was dizzy from it all. She closed her eyes and brought her breathing under control. In and then out, she sucked in air until she no longer struggled with it. Then she opened her eyes and realized where she was. Somehow, she’d ended up in Hyde Park in the middle of the social hour. How she’d not run anyone over in her mad dash, she didn’t know, but everyone was now staring at her. So much for not causing a scene... Well, she never really did anything in half measures. She wanted to do things her own way, and now she had no other choice. She’d all but turned down the Marquess of Dashville. If he truly wanted to marry her, he’d have to hunt her down and prove it.
She glanced up and gasped... Her marquess was stalking toward her, and he looked rather—impassioned. It was a good look on him too. Be still her beating heart...
DASH HAD NEVER BEEN so angry in his life. She didn’t even give him a chance before running off. He’d taken off after her without thinking about it. They had to talk without his aunt getting in the middle of it. He didn’t understand why Helena was fighting him on any of it. While he hadn’t asked her to marry him, surely she understood that was where he was heading before Lady Scarsbury rudely interrupted him.
He should have had a private conversation with her before now. Maybe then she wouldn’t have felt the need to leap from the carriage. She’d run into Hyde Park of all places. The beau monde of the ton was parading about it, all gaping at her as if she were a theatrical performer there to entertain them. Many of the debutantes were giggling behind their fans and discreetly pointing in Helena’s direction. One had gone so far as to point at her with the tip of her umbrella. She looked familiar, but Dash couldn’t quite place her.
He dropped to his knees before Helena. She stared at him as if she didn’t believe he was there. Truthfully, he couldn’t quite conceive the ridiculousness of it himself.
“Oliver,” she said softly.
He loved hearing his name coming from her lips. “Yes, my dear Helena,” he reassured her. The time for formalities was gone. This wasn’t the time to pretend they didn’t have a personal connection. He intended to make her his wife, and damn it, he wanted to have the right to address her thusly. “Are you done running?”
She frowned. “I don’t know. Do I have a reason to stay?”
He brushed his hand over her head, pushing a stray blonde lock behind her ear. “You always did.”
“Somehow, I doubt that,” she replied. “I never had a reason to before.”
What would it take to reassure her and make her realize she belonged with him? There was no one else he wanted or would ever desire the way he did her. She was his heart and soul. Whatever it would take, he’d do it. “I can give you one very good reason.”
“You can?” Her eyes widened. “What?”
“I’m here,” he said. “And I need you.”
“Is it really that simple?”
“If you let it,” he replied. “Put your hand in mine, and we’ll walk out of here together. Nothing can stop us from being together if you wish it.”
God help him if she said no. He might go insane and then there would be talk around the town about the mad marquess. She lifted her hand to him and he breathed a sigh of relief. He peeled her glove off slowly and then kissed all of her ink stained fingertips, then one final kiss in the palm. “Lady Helena,” he said huskily, meeting her gaze. “Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
“Why?”
Her question stunned him. He hadn’t expected it and wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. Wasn’t it enough he wanted to? Did he have to explain his reasons to her? She stared at him, awaiting his response. Clearly, she wouldn’t say yes or no until he gave her a good reason for it. Trust her not to accept a proposal for what it was and demand more.
“My dear,” he began. “Every day I don’t see you is a day of pure misery, every hour you are not mine is an hour of loneliness, every minute I breathe is one of agony until I see you again, and every second I pray you need me as much as I need you. My heart beats for you and every moment that goes by I love you even more than the last.” He didn’t know what else he could say that could make it any clearer. “Please, will you be my wife, my partner, and the mother of my children? Will you stay with me always, and more importantly, will you promise to try to love me?”
“Maybe,” she said and then smiled at him. “I have conditions.”
“Anything,” he promised. He was a little surprised she’d been willing to agree so quickly, but thankful all the same, and would concede to nearly anything she wanted. “As long as, at the end of it, you say yes.”
He meant every word of what he’d said. Helena was the love of his life and he’d never be happy without her. She was his shining beacon of hope, and he wouldn’t change a thing about her.
“No one ever really saw me—not until you.”
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“I...” He swallowed the lump in his throat.
“No,” she said. “Let me finish.”
The murmur of the crowd was a distant echo. He sat back and waited for her to finish. He could do this much for her. Hell, he’d do anything for her. She was his heart after all.
“I want to continue my, uh, hobby,” she said cautiously. “But if you think that’s too much for you, I understand.”
“I look forward to your future—creations,” he said diplomatically. “And maybe even being your prime subject from time to time.”
He’d hated being in the scandal sheet in the past, and one time had even hoped to figure out who Lady X was. Now that he had, he hoped no one ever did, but even if the unthinkable happened, as his wife she’d be protected. He’d make sure nothing harmful ever touched her.
“I won’t share you,” she said. “I expect that each night you’ll come home to me and only me.”
He laughed. “I have no problem with that, and I’ll add to it. I expect a kiss each night and one each morning.”
“That’s asking a bit much,” she said. “What happens if I don’t follow through or if you get bored? Will you divorce me?”
“Never,” he replied. “Even if divorce was something easily achieved, I wouldn’t agree to it. Once we say our vows, you’re mine forever, and I’m yours. There will be no outs or escaping it.” He kissed her quickly and then said, “Now, do you have any more conditions? Do you accept my proposal?”
She nodded. “I do have one more.”
“What is it?” He didn’t know how much more he could take. He didn’t want to think about it. Dash held his breath and waited for her to continue.
“I want the biggest, most outlandish wedding imaginable, and I want it to happen in three weeks after the bans are read. Do you think you can pull that off?” She leaned down and whispered, “Lady X needs a front row seat.”
He was momentarily stunned and then laughter spilled out of him. She’d agreed, and he could handle every single one of her requests. “I love you so much.”
“I love you more.”
They were going to have a brilliant and wonderful life together. He couldn’t wait for it to start, and he hoped she didn’t regret any of it. His heart would always be hers, no matter what.
Oliver Hunt, the Marquess of Dashville and Lady Helena Carter invite you to witness them exchange their vows... I’m touched, and I might even attend.
—Whispers from Lady X
EPILOGUE
THE WEDDING OF THE year was something most of the ton refused to miss for any reason—and many were upset they couldn’t attend the actual ceremony and had only been invited to the wedding breakfast. Most of them probably hoped the mysterious Lady X would be in attendance and they could out her as the scandal queen of legend. Little did they know they would all see her and never figure out that the bride and the Lady of Whispers were one and the same. Enough of the ton had been invited to the wedding to leave the identity of Lady X a mystery, but not enough to make the church overly crowded.
Helena already had the beginning of her next column written and stored in her trunk, which was on its way to Oliver’s townhouse already. She’d finish it later and send it off to her publisher before they left for their wedding trip. The one she’d written and sent on their way to Scotland had never made it to her publisher. She’d never trust the mail to deliver one again. She was afraid of where that particular column had ended up.
The bride, Lady Helena, wore a violet-blue dress that matched her eyes. Tiny seed pearls had been sewn into the bodice, and her hair was adorned with flowers the color of snow. The groom had a waistcoat of dove gray and the look of a besotted fool as he watched his intended walk down the aisle.
Of course, if Helena could have seen herself, she probably had displayed a matching expression on her face. She loved that man and was so happy to be marrying him. Their vows were exchanged, and they were pronounced man and wife before God and their family. The wedding hadn’t been the social event of the season she’d demanded. Well, in some ways it had been. After the scene in the park, many had clamored for an invitation. But after much thought, she decided all she needed there was Oliver, Lucas, and her parents.
Truthfully, she’d have left her parents off the guest list, but her father wouldn’t have believed the wedding had taken place otherwise. It was her way of wiping her hands of the duke’s disapproval. Once she was Oliver’s wife, she had no reason to have anything to do with either her mother or her father. She could live her life as she chose.
“You may now kiss the bride,” the vicar said.
“My favorite part of the ceremony,” Oliver declared. Then leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. It was a quick kiss, but later she hoped for more passionate ones. “Are you happy?”
“Gloriously so,” she replied. “Do we really have to stay for the wedding breakfast?”
Her mother had insisted on having one. That was where most of the invitations went, and the ton had responded with gleeful vigor. They expected everyone to not only attend, but to bring along people who hadn’t been invited.
Oliver leaned down and whispered, “Lady X wouldn’t want to miss it. Imagine the gossip that will be waiting to be collected there.”
He did have a point, and she didn’t want to disappoint the ton. They’d be anxiously waiting for the next scandal sheet to come out with all the hidden details. “I wish you weren’t right.” She sighed. “Can we at least leave early?”
His hot breath caressed her ear. “I’ll insist on it. Now, let’s go before your parents become restless.”
Helena groaned. “Does it matter? I now officially belong to you. They have no say in anything we do.”
She would never be happy with how her parents had treated her. They were the type of people who should never have had children, and if society wasn’t what it was, probably wouldn’t have. She hoped that when she had her own children she’d be a better mother than the duchess.
“Please,” he said. “Be civil for a few hours, then if you want, you never have to talk to them again.”
“For you,” she agreed. “Because I love you.”
“That’s all I can ask,” he replied. “And I love you too.”
Oliver leaned down and kissed her forehead quickly, then led her out of the church and helped her into the carriage. Soon they’d be at their wedding breakfast, and not long after that they’d leave for their wedding trip—one completely secluded and where no one would find them. Not even Lady X... At least as far as the ton was concerned.
Sometimes even the Lady of Whispers couldn’t discover everything. Her cottage would be their escape, and personal haven. The rest of the world would be a distant memory. Oliver was the love of her life, and a dream she never dared to hope for. The heart didn’t lie, and while some things in her life distracted her from it, one thing never changed—she had always loved him, and always would.
EXCERPT
Earl of Harrington
BLUESTOCKINGS DEFYING ROGUES 1
WICKED EARLS’ CLUB 12
Dawn Brower
PROLOGUE
SOUTHINGTON CASTLE, England, 1808
The day was like any other one in England. Rainfall had become a normal enough occurrence that Jonas didn’t notice it—even as it dripped down his face, drenching him completely. He stared at the chiseled stones in the cemetery near Southington’s chapel. Only members of his family were buried there—many he never met personally. Pictures of them filled the great hall, but they were history to him, and he’d been able to distance himself from their stories. This, however, was far different.
His life would never be the same. The death of his father had marked an unchangeable truth. The duke now had control over Jonas’s life. His grandfather was a tyrant and had always attempted to browbeat his will into him. His father had been the one person he’d been able to count on. A buffer the duke couldn’t break through, and he’d tried often.
So, no, the cold didn’t matter because he was numb through and through. Rain? Paltry in comparison to what he had yet to face. The Duke of Southington, his grandfather, hadn’t started yet—mainly because he couldn’t. There were people around, and he dared not cause a scene. Once all the mourners departed, things would start to unravel ever further around him. Would his grandfather allow him to return to Eton? What about his mother? Would she have it in her to fight him? Somehow, he doubted everything and yet prayed for anything resembling his life before his father’s death.
“Lord Harrington,” a man said as he rested his hand on Jonas’s shoulder. How could he be the earl now? That was his father’s name, and he doubted he’d ever become accustomed to it. “It’s time to head back.”
He glanced up at the man as the rain continued to drip down his face. His hair was black, but had already started to turn to gray along the sides. Jonas barely knew him, but Lord Coventry had been a friend of his father’s. “I’m not ready,” he told him.
“George was a good man,” Lord Coventry said. “He loved you.”
“I know,” Jonas replied woodenly. He’d long ago stopped feeling and now went through the motions. What else could he do? Lord Coventry was correct—it was long past time to go, yet he couldn’t move. Once he left, it would all become too real for him. His grandfather would start barking orders, and he had years before he could be free of him. Three long years to be exact—once he turned eighteen he could seize control of his inheritance. As long as his grandfather didn’t find a way to break the will. “But that doesn’t change anything.”
“No,” Lord Coventry agreed. “He’s still gone, and nothing will ever bring him back.”
If Jonas were capable of crying, he’d have done so days ago. It was probably a good thing he hadn’t. Any sign of weakness would have set his grandfather off. He had to be brave, and somehow find the strength to move on sooner than he’d like. His father deserved to be mourned, but he’d understand why Jonas couldn’t openly do it. “I’m ready now.” Jonas didn’t look at Lord Coventry. He spun on his heels and began the long trek back to Southington Castle. He hated his grandfather’s home—it was as cold as he was. There wasn’t anything welcoming about it.