One True Love (A Regency Romance)

by Lisa Follett

  She heard his familiar, soothing voice echo through the clouds in her mind. Then her husband’s name broke through. William. Where was William?

  “Thank you, Lord Winnington, but I do believe I should return and find my husband now.” She started to walk back towards the French doors that lead to the ballroom. They were so far away. How did she get this far? She wanted to go home and lie down.

  Lord Winnington grabbed her arm and spun her towards him. He crushed her against his chest. He gripped her tightly as his blue eyes darkened, changed into something far more sinister than she ever imagined.

  “Let me go! You are hurting me.”

  He relaxed his grip, but did not let her go. “Cassie, darling. I have missed you. My heart and soul aches for you, burns for you. Why did you marry another man? Did you not trust in our love? Could you not wait me to find a way out of my predicament? If you had only waited you would be Lady Winnington now.”

  Tears burned Cassie’s eyes at the anguish in his voice. She did not mean to hurt him. At the time, she thought she loved him. Her feelings were those of youthful first love, and a fleeting romance. What they had was not real, or deep, or meant to be forever. How could she tell him her heart changed over the past weeks?

  “I am sorry, truly I am, but there is no going back. Please, let me go. I need to return to my husband’s side.”

  “No!” His vehemence startled her. He never raised his voice before. A dark cloud passed over his face. “You are mine. You were promised to me first, and I will be damned if I let another man take you.”

  His mouth crushed hers, possessive and demanding. She tried to pull away, but he was too strong for her. He pulled her tighter, and held her around the waist with one arm, as he fondled her breast with his other hand. She squealed at the shocking touch. He took full advantage and thrust his tongue into her mouth. She stamped on his foot, but he pinched her breast in cruel response. Why was he doing this to her?

  There was a time when she wanted his kisses, but now, she only wanted to get away from him. She tried to push him away in order to run to the safety of her husband’s arms. He made her feel dirty and violated. Fear rose in her bosom and the shock of his unwanted attack shook her from the inside out. She managed to slip one arm out of his grasp and punch him on his chest as she fought for air.

  He swiftly turned her, backed her up against a tree, and brutally pushed her into the hard, scraping bark. She heard the rip of her bodice and felt his hand on her exposed breast. He squeezed and pinched her nipple as tears came to her eyes. She broke the kiss and screamed when she felt his body yanked from hers.

  Cassie sank to the ground, wrapped her arms around her stomach and sobbed. She heard the sounds of fist connecting with face, breaking bones, and bodies crashing to the ground. She looked up in time to see Lord Winnington on the ground clutching his broken nose. William stood over him, breathing hard, with an intensely dark, angry scowl. She cringed from the scene. His eyes met hers, but the desire to fling herself into his arms and sob was met with a sneer of disgust.

  “Right yourself now. We will leave out a back gate.”

  At first, she did not move, still too shocked to register his words until William barked at her. She scrambled to her feet as if threatened by a rabid dog. She raced behind him, followed him to the gate, and waited as he whistled for a boy to tell his coachman to pull around the back. They waited in silence for the coach. A footman jumped down and opened the door. Her husband stood back as the footman handed her up. She collapsed on the seat and fell against the wall of the carriage.

  Exhaustion from the nightmare claimed her. She never would have dreamed that Lord Winnington would treat her so abominably. William remained silent and brooded all the way to the townhouse. She longed for him to hold her, to comfort her, but he did not offer, and she did not ask.

  When they arrived home, he stepped from the carriage and offered his hand, but his touch was cold, and his eyes were even colder. She understood his anger, but why was it directed at her? She was the victim.

  “Go to your room,” he ordered. She did not bother to argue with him, or ask questions. Exhausted, she dragged herself up the stairs, as tears streamed down her face.

  ***

  William stormed into his study and picked up the first breakable object, and slammed it on the stone surrounding the fireplace. The betrayal cut across his heart, and sliced his pride into ribbons. Maybe he was cursed, and was meant to live without the love of one woman. He muttered expletives beneath his breath and paced the room like a caged tiger.

  The full force of his idiotic life hit like a blow to his head when he saw his wife in the arms of Winnington. She could not resist her former betrothed. He fumed and admitted he should have left her to rot in Yorkshire.

  Damn! They were making progress. She was the one who demanded his attention. He gave it to her, and look what it cost him. He was the fool of besotted fools. What was wrong with him? The mirror did not show any significant flaws in his physical appearance, in fact, a reasonable person would call him handsome.

  He bathed daily, so she could not complain about body odor. He sniffed his underarms and caught a whiff of something unpleasant. Well, hell, it was damned hot in that stuffy ballroom. He poured himself a generous glass of brandy and swallowed the dark liquid. It burned down his throat and warmed him throughout. After he downed the first glass, he poured another.

  The bottle of brandy provided the only comfort he would receive this night. He sat down with his glass and bottle, laid his head against the leather chair, and closed his eyes against the waves of pain that pierced his soul.

  Her face came to him, like a golden angel coming out of the clouds. So beautiful, so sweet and kind. He mistakenly believed time would bring her to him, teach her to love him, but he now knew her first love was too strong, too real, and the knowledge of it left him without hope.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cassie wrung her hands and wondered if she would ever see her husband again. The infuriating man escaped the house by the crack of dawn, and returned late in the night. Where did he go all this time? Her heart broke in two when he sent her to her room and left without so much as a word. Torn between tears of anguish and tears of anger at his betrayal, she decided to continue on with or without him.

  She pressed her hand against her belly for the hundredth time since she figured out William’s child grew within her. She desperately wanted to tell William her happy news, but drat the man; he did not make himself available for even a moment. Rage shot through her as she thought about how he blamed her for Lord Winnington’s assualt. She did not do anything wrong! She wanted to smash something, more than something; she wanted to smash lots of things.

  She took several deep breaths to calm herself, after all, what good would it do to break everything in the house? She went down to breakfast and hoped her husband sat at the table enjoying his coddled eggs and toast.

  His chair sat empty.

  She inquired of the servants who told her William left the house before they rose from their beds.

  Over the next several days, Cassie tried to rise early to catch her husband, but the smells of breakfast took her the moment she entered the room. She barely made it back upstairs to the chamber pot before retching her dinner from the night before. The doctor she visited confirmed her pregnancy, then informed her the sickness was normal and it would eventually pass. If only William would come home so she could share her news with him. The news she intended to share the night of the ball.

  ***

  William did not want to return to the house and chance seeing his wife. He needed time away to remove Cassie from the place she claimed in his heart, yet he feared the time away made little difference. Realizing his efforts were futile, and his heart hers, he began to accept his life sentence in a loveless marriage. The one thing he would not tolerate was her unfaithfulness. She made a vow before their families and God, and she would keep it if he had to lock her up at Rosehill Manor.


  As usual, his thoughts turned sour when she came to his mind, which happened to be all of the time. He wasted his days away from her. There was business to attend to, and papers to sign, and all of this was located in his study. Although the idea appealed to him, he could no longer continue to hide. He needed to stay away from her –far away. Otherwise, he might not survive the torment that tore him to pieces.

  William entered the house and caught a glance of his wife in a near run up the stairs. What was the hurry? Did her lover come in the night and just now leave? Is he still there? Pure rage filled his soul and before he knew what he was doing, he took the stairs two at a time. He made it to the door connecting their rooms just in time to hear her retch. Good God, she was sick. His stomach turned at the unpleasant sound and smell. He cracked the door and watched as she washed her face and rinsed her mouth, oblivious to his intrusion. She lay down on her bed, like a pale angel framed by golden curls, and his heart twisted.

  She was sick after all, and it was his responsibility to care for his wife. He watched as she clutched her stomach and moaned. Quietly, he closed the door and went to the bell pull. Cassie’s lady’s maid arrived, then he ordered a footman to fetch Dr. Breckman immediately. He paced his room and listened while she retched again. He almost went to her, but in the end, decided against it.

  He went downstairs and waited in the foyer for the doctor’s arrival. As soon as the man entered the house, William grabbed him by the elbow. “Dr. Breckman, my wife is sick. She is vomiting and holding her stomach. You must see to her immediately.”

  Dr. Breckman laughed. Laughed.

  “What is so funny? I just told you my wife is sick!” He bellowed loud enough to wake the dead.

  “Expectant fathers are always more jittery than expectant mothers.” His eyes twinkled and a smile lit his face.

  William pulled him towards the stairs, but the man stood his ground. “What the bloody hell are you talking about? You need to see my wife now.” William’s patience neared the breaking point. Why was the man blabbering?

  “Your wife’s symptoms are normal, Lord William. Calm yourself. It is too early for a glass of brandy, but perhaps a small amount is just what you need. “Shall we go to your study for a chat?”

  The doctor must have lost his mind. Why would he need brandy? How would he know his wife’s symptoms were normal? Expectant fathers and mothers…

  The blood drained from William’s face. He shook his head and ran his hands through his hair. He was an idiot. “Have you attended my wife recently?”

  “Just last week. I am assuming she has not mentioned her condition to you yet. Perhaps she was waiting to surprise you.”

  “I am sure she was,” he ground out. “I am sorry I wasted your time, doctor. I thought my wife was ill.”

  “Perhaps it is time to talk to your wife, Lord William.”

  “Yes, I suppose it is. Send me your bill to compensate for your time. If you will excuse me.” He nodded to the doctor and ran up the stairs.

  A child. A son. Or maybe a daughter with golden hair and green eyes. The thought warmed the chill within his heart. Why had she not told him?

  William took the stairs two at a time. He needed to see Cassie. He admitted he missed his wife. His heart hammered in his chest. The pain of rejection filtered through his brain. He stopped on the top stair and recalled each ridiculous moment when a woman had turned him away. On each occasion, he was disappointed, yet his heart never dealt with the crushing pain he experienced as of late.

  Seeing his wife in another man’s arms was the ultimate rejection. Bitterness crawled across his skin like livestock from the filth of the London slums. Winnington’s mocking smirk slithered across his memory as he recalled how the rogue bested him in a card game at White’s. He thought of his wife laughing and talking with her former love at the horse race, and he remembered the lowlife’s hands on her in the gardens. He left his wife to her own devices during the day and at night. He left her to the manipulation of her former betrothed. Had he driven her to the Winnington’s bed?

  William sat down on the top step and rubbed his temples. The thought of his lovely wife gloriously naked in bed with her golden curls tossed about the pillows, and Winnington touching her, making love to her, sent him into a complete tailspin. Had his efforts to protect his own heart resulted in his wife turning to her first love? Did the child she carry belong to Winnington?

  The possibility shook his soul, and twisted his insides until he leapt up without conscious thought and stormed into Cassie’s room.

  ***

  The nausea finally passed. Lately, Cassie was tired to the marrow of her bones. Sleep transported her to a sweet, dreamless place.

  The door crashed open. Cassie sat up and clutched her feverishly beating heart. William. Good heavens! She fell back against the pillow, closed her eyes, and tried to steady her mind. When she opened them, he scowled down at her. Now what?

  William’s insane moods wore her out when all she wanted was a peaceful marriage. This unnecessary turmoil put a strain on her nerves, and truthfully, she had not forgiven him for his callous abandonment.

  “What do you want?” she snapped.

  “Do I not have the right to see my own wife?” he sneered.

  “You have chosen to stay away for days, and now you come storming into my room as if seeing me is suddenly urgent?” Cassie sat up and pushed her hair from her face. She must look like a fright.

  “I think discovering my wife is enceinte is urgent,” he boomed.

  Cassie sat up and stiffened her spine. “How did you know?” she whispered. She had not told a soul. She had waited and hoped William would come home as she prayed her news would thaw his chilled heart.

  “Dr. Breckman told me. Nevertheless, it should have been my wife. You have known, but you did not see fit to inform me of your condition?” William paced about the room like a panther stalking its’ prey. Warning bells clanged in her head. There was more to his anger than he let on.

  Resentment so deep, so real, rose inside of her, and she needed to gain control of her wits before speaking. “I have not seen you since the ball. I only learned it that day. I intended to tell you that night, but you stormed off without giving a clue as to your whereabouts. You have not bothered to grace me with your presence, my lord.”

  Something like guilt flashed in his eyes before his face turned into a stony mask. Hate. She saw it in his eyes. Hate and disgust. Why? She wanted to cry out, to grab hold of him and shake him. What had she done to cause such vehemence?

  “Whose child is it, or do you even know?” William’s clipped, angry tone burned her like boiling oil poured on an open wound.

  Her body shuddered from weakness. If she were standing, she would surely collapse. How could he say such a thing? Her hands shook, not from fear, but from an anguish so deep it rose to the surface like the lava of an erupting volcano. Never before had she experienced such hurt; such rage. Not when she returned from Gretna Green. Not when she saw the disappointment in her parent’s eyes.

  Fury boiled over and she grabbed a pitcher of water beside her bed and flung it at William. The bowl followed. He dodged the crockery, but the water doused him.

  She charged at him and beat her fists against his chest. “How dare you! You…you…blackguard. You rotting bloody bastard!” Tears burned her eyes and streamed down her face as her out of control fists pounded the muscles of unmoving wall.

  William grabbed her shoulders and shook her until her head snapped back. She could not read the stony expression on his face or in his dark, shuttered eyes. For a brief moment, they stilled and he held her tight until he bruised her arms. She struggled to catch her breath. He pulled her into his arms and rested his chin atop her head. His hands ran down her back and etched an impression on her skin. Torn between leaning against him and pushing him away, she remained rigid, and fought for control of her emotions.

  “It is alright, Cassie. I will accept this child as my own.”
>
  His words took a moment to sink in. He did not believe the babe within her womb his? What could have possibly possessed him to think she would do such a thing? Cassie took her vows seriously. Did he think she would go to another man’s bed? His lack of trust sickened her.

  “Go away.” She pushed against his chest with the palms of her hand, then turned her back on him, and listened as his footsteps crossed the room, and as the door opened and shut.

  She wrapped her arms around her waist and sank to the floor. This time the tears did not come. She sat on her knees with her heart hammering in her ears, for what seemed like hours, before she finally rose, rang the bell pull, and demanded a bath.

  Tonight she would attend the Farthington Ball without her husband. She would carry on. And when she began to show, she would return to Rosehill Manor alone.

  ***

  The Farthington Ball was a ridiculous crush of hothouse flowers and London dandies. Cassie wore a deep blue silk gown cut in the popular Empire style. A gold sash rested below her breasts and drew attention to her fashionably low-cut bodice. Katie piled her golden curls on top of her head, and then weaved in diamonds and sapphires. A small sapphire pendent handed down from her grandmother graced her throat. She positively shimmered, and the attention of the surrounding gentlemen proved this to her.

  Her dance card filled up within fifteen minutes of her arrival. She gave herself no time to stop and think about her missing husband, his horrible accusations, or her torn heart. Cassie danced and laughed and soaked in the atmosphere of swirling gowns and flickering candlelight. Living her life to the fullest was the only thing she could do to prevent the shallowness of her marriage from creeping into her thoughts, and taking over her every move. If William did not want her, then she would continue on without him.

  Her resolve did not last long.

  “Cassie, dear, where is William tonight? We hardly ever see him anymore,” asked Anne.