Harlequin Historical May 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

by Sarah Mallory

  Holding her away from him, he wiped away her tears with the sheet, not wanting to ask the question, but knowing he must. ‘Look at me, Lucy. I have to ask. Did he...?’

  Lucy knew what he was trying to ask her and she shook her head. ‘No, but he tried to. That’s why I had to hit him.’

  ‘Thank God! That was brave of you.’

  ‘I managed to get away. I didn’t know where to go—Aunt Caroline’s house is all shut up. I know no one else in London—only you.’

  ‘Thank God you came.’ Christopher reached out and pulled her to him once more. There was a note of bitterness in his voice before it softened somewhat. ‘Tell me what happened. I’ll try not to interrupt and I’ll try to restrain my temper. What did you do? Tell me.’

  In between sobs she told him how he had tried to rape her, how hard she had fought him and to save herself how she had hit him over the head with a candlestick. There was a changing play of expressions on Christopher’s face. They ranged from apprehension to grim-lipped rage to concern back to rage again. Several times he wanted to interrupt her, but, true to his word, he merely tightened his lips and desisted.

  ‘There was blood everywhere. He was unconscious—I thought he was, but I couldn’t rouse him. I—I’m sure I killed him. I...’

  Christopher’s arms tightened around her. ‘Don’t think of that now. We’ll get you cleaned up and into bed.’ He didn’t release his hold on her when Mrs Ward entered. Having had no time to dress, she was wrapped in a warm dressing gown, grey hair showing beneath the white cotton of her cap. Her eyes went immediately to the young woman he was holding in his arms, clearly having no idea what to make of it. ‘Ah, Mrs Ward. This is Miss Walsh—a friend of mine. I’m afraid she’s had a traumatic experience and is upset. She’ll be staying the night.’

  Mrs Ward tutted as she inspected Miss Walsh closely. The small, thin woman had a loving heart that seemed to shine out from her pale blue eyes. She was now in her mid-fifties and had been with the Rockwood family as housekeeper for thirty years. Unlike the other servants, whose moods would fluctuate according to the duties required of them, Mrs Ward was one of those rare women blessed with a temperament that was constant and reliable.

  ‘Poor dear looks as if she’s been in the wars all right. Dear me, such goings on. I’ll go and get some warm water and we’ll get her cleaned up.’

  Christopher made a move to get off the bed, but Lucy clung on to him. ‘Don’t leave me. Stay with me.’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere, Lucy.’

  She really was an innocent, which made Barrington’s assault even worse. She was a well-brought-up young woman who had been taught that any intimacy should be conducted only between a husband and wife, and he knew how shocked and horrified she would be feeling after what had occurred.

  Christopher stood back while Mrs Ward ministered to Lucy, pulling a screen between them to preserve her modesty. Lucy stood up while her cloak was removed and then the gown, which she had thrown on hastily and was carelessly buttoned. When it slipped from her shoulders, Christopher was alerted when Mrs Ward let out a gasp. Immediately he tore the screen away.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘The lady, sir—the bruising—the person who did this...’

  Witnessing what had been done to her, Christopher was horrified on seeing the bruising marring the tender flesh of her shoulder from Barrington’s rough handling.’

  ‘Please, Christopher—don’t look that way,’ Lucy whispered. ‘The bruising is nothing. It will heal.’

  ‘You call this nothing?’ His voice was oddly quiet as his hand reached out to touch her shoulder gently. ‘The man’s a devil,’ he rasped, like the sound a splintered bone might make. ‘He will be sorry for this. It will not be forgotten.’

  ‘Shall I have a bed made up for her?’

  ‘Yes, that would be as well, Mrs Ward. Do you have some laudanum?’

  ‘Yes—I have some left over from when my back was playing up.’

  ‘I don’t think it will go amiss if you were to give Miss Walsh some. She needs to sleep.’

  He did not leave the house until Lucy was ensconced in another room and the laudanum he had asked Mrs Ward to give her had taken effect and Lucy was curled up asleep.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Christopher arrived at the house in Belgravia just as dawn was breaking. Hammering on the door, he waited, sensing that after what had occurred here at just after midnight would have the whole house in turmoil. Years of experience had taught him to keep his most violent emotions in check, but his current emotions were most certainly violent. When the door was finally opened by a bleary-eyed female servant, red faced and her cap askew, he pushed his way inside, demanding to see Mrs Walsh. When asked who she should say was calling, he made use of his title, Viscount Rockley, both to impress and intimidate. Tall and impressive, his appearance immaculate, he did not look like a man who had been up all night.

  When Sofia Walsh finally appeared, her manner was frosty, but she received him with polite hospitality. It was clear to Christopher that she had assessed this new situation and, warned that she was under threat, chosen her strategy on the instant.

  ‘Forgive me if I seem surprised to see you, Viscount Rockley. I don’t usually receive guests at this early hour. What is it all about?’

  ‘You know why I am here, Mrs Walsh, so let’s dispense with the preliminaries.’

  ‘As you wish. What brings you here? My stepdaughter? Have you found her?’

  ‘She found me—thank God.’

  ‘Then I would be obliged if you would return her to me—although why she would seek you out of all people begs the question as to why.’

  ‘It would appear there is no one else in London she can trust. You may be assured, Mrs Walsh, that she will not be returning to this house.’

  ‘Why—how dare you,’ Sofia hissed, struggling to maintain her composure. ‘How dare you come here and threaten me.’

  ‘You are about to discover that there is precious little I do not dare. What occurred to her in this house in the early hours of this morning beggars belief. I am in full possession of the facts, so don’t try to take me for a fool. Had you any idea she had run off to escape the brutal attack Barrington forced on her?’

  ‘No, not until I was alerted by one of the servants who had seen her leaving the house.’

  ‘And no one thought to go after her—a young woman alone on the streets of London is dangerous at the best of times, but between midnight and dawn it is doubly so?’

  ‘As I said, I did not find out until it was too late and I had no idea where she might have fled to. I believed she would return when she saw sense.’

  ‘So where is Barrington? Miss Walsh believes she killed him.’

  ‘She didn’t. He—he suffered a head wound and was out of it for a while. He left about an hour ago.’

  ‘Does that mean he has decided to bolt like the coward he is, or is he lying low, ready to try again when things have cooled off? Where did he go?’

  ‘You might not believe me when I tell you that I don’t know. Probably back to his hotel.’

  ‘I will find him. In the meantime, Miss Walsh will remain with me until her godmother returns from France.’

  Sofia straightened her shoulders and glared at him with defiance, while something that might have been desperation twisted her features as she realised that Lucy might truly have slipped from her grasp.

  ‘I think you forget that her father made me her guardian. Lucy is my responsibility. You cannot simply take her away.’

  ‘I didn’t. She chose to run away.’

  ‘Nevertheless, you must return her to my care, which was what her father wanted. I must insist.’

  Christopher smiled with the ingrained arrogance of a true aristocrat. ‘Insist all you like, Mrs Walsh. Although whatever her father was thinking, he should ha
ve known better than to give his daughter in marriage to a man of Barrington’s character. If it is true that he gave you guardianship over her—which I very much doubt—then you forfeited that right when you stood aside and allowed Barrington to enter her bedroom to rape her.’

  Sofia paled and her hand rose to clutch her throat. ‘He—didn’t.’

  ‘No. Thank God she was desperate enough and had the presence of mind to fight back. You failed in your duty to protect her—in fact, I would go as far as to say you colluded with that blackguard to do what he did. Once ruined, she would have no choice but to marry him. When you see him, remind him that he owes me money, that I have documents in my possession that could send him to gaol for several years—and considering your nefarious dealings with Miss Walsh I could have you both thrown into goal.’

  His voice took on a steely edge. ‘Barrington has done harm to me in the past and I let it go unchallenged, but now I would gladly run the blackguard through with my sword or see him ruined and hanging from the end of a rope, so do not think for one minute that any threat of mine is idly voiced.’

  Turning on his heel, he strode to the door, where he stopped and looked back. ‘See that Miss Walsh’s clothes are packed and sent to my address in Hanover Square. She will not be returning to this house.’

  * * *

  After a troubled night’s sleep Lucy awakened. Looking round the unfamiliar room, at first she could not remember where she was, but then the horrific events of the night closed in on her. She felt groggy and her whole body ached as though she had been beaten, from struggling with Mr Barrington and her own tension as she tried to fight him off. Mrs Ward had tended the wound on her shoulder and rubbed witch hazel on the bruises she had acquired. No matter how hard she tried, she could not dispel the disturbing memories from her mind of Mr Barrington’s attack and her flight to Hanover Square in the middle of the night. The vision of him lying across the bed with blood oozing from his wound tormented her. Was he dead? Had she killed him—however accidentally it had been, she had done it. She was to blame.

  * * *

  She was still in bed when Christopher returned from visiting Sofia.

  ‘Christopher! I—I did not expect to see you.’

  ‘I’m glad to see you are awake. I hope you have been comfortable.’

  ‘Yes, thank you. Everyone has been very kind. As you see I am still abed and wondering where my clothes have got to.’

  Approaching the bed, he took a moment to observe her and savour the delicate lines of her face. A light flush mantled her cheeks and her eyes from between the thick fan of lashes watched him keenly as she pulled the bedclothes up to her chin.

  ‘Mrs Ward will have taken them. I’m sure she’ll return them shortly. I’ve just come from seeing your stepmother—I’ve instructed her to have your clothes packed up and sent here.’

  Lucy paled. ‘Oh—you have? And—and did she say anything about Mr Barrington?’

  ‘You can cease worrying. You did not kill him. He soon recovered from the blow you inflicted on him. He’s very much alive and has disappeared to goodness knows where.’

  Lucy’s relief was obvious. ‘Thank goodness. I do not like him, but I would not like to be hanged for his murder. What will happen to him? How will you handle it if you find him? He—he won’t be killed, will he?’

  ‘Lucy!’ Christopher sounded shocked by her words. ‘I don’t understand you. I don’t think you have any idea what we are dealing with. He is a gambler, a seducer and a thief. He is unscrupulous and diabolically cunning. It is a profession he has chosen. But you sound as if you actually feel sorry for him.’

  ‘I—I just do not like violence.’ She sighed deeply. ‘I have put you to a lot of trouble I am sure you could do without.’

  ‘I’m relieved you felt able to come to me and I reproach myself most severely for not coming to your aid sooner. I should have found some way to remove you from that house, but I did not think he would act as he has done.’

  ‘You have nothing to reproach yourself for. Since leaving the academy I have needed a friend, someone I can trust and talk frankly to. I wonder where he is?’

  ‘He’s left his hotel—I went there after leaving your stepmother. I’d like to say he has gone for good and that he will not be troubling you any further, but I can’t do that. I have no illusions with regard to his character. He is a dangerous man who has managed to survive despite everything. He’s not to be trusted and even now he will be planning what form his revenge will take.’

  ‘Do you think he will have left London?’

  He shook his head. ‘My guess is that he’ll be lying low somewhere. I will take you somewhere where I know you will be safe. While ever you are living here with me your reputation is at risk.’

  ‘What? More than it is already? You must have seen the papers. You must know that according to the ton I am not fit to keep the company of the young ladies of polite society. And to add to the shame that we were seen on the terrace together in an intimate embrace, everyone has surmised that we are indulging in a liaison. In other words, I am blacklisted from every society event before I have even started. It makes me furious to find myself caught up in a chain of circumstances over which I have no control.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Lucy. It is my fault,’ he said with contrition. ‘I’ve heard the gossip and I am mortified. Please forgive me for my unbecoming conduct. I took advantage of you and it was wrong of me. There is no excuse.’

  ‘And did you have to do that at the ball?’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Kiss my hand the way you did.’

  ‘I had no idea we were observed.’

  ‘We were—by those who were leaving the card room at the time. It provoked Mr Barrington even further.’

  His smile twisted with a self-derisive motion. ‘You were fortunate. Had I done what I was tempted to do and kissed you on the lips, that would have provoked an even bigger scandal.’

  ‘Thank goodness you didn’t. How did you do it—win, I mean?’

  ‘You are asking me if I cheated?’

  ‘I suppose I am.’

  ‘Then the answer is no. No one knows what card is given until it is turned up. It might be the ace of hearts or the ace of clubs or diamonds or any other card. It’s knowing what to do with them that counts and being able to read your opponent. There’s a lot of luck in cards as there is in life. You have to believe in luck to get it.’

  ‘But there has to be skill.’

  ‘That, too.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘With time to kill on board ship I spent many hours perfecting that skill. It certainly paid off when I took Barrington on at the tables. I believe he’d been gambling without success for a long time—that he’d lost his touch. For one success there can be a thousand failures.’

  Lucy sighed, relaxing back into the pillows. ‘It seems to me that whatever you and Mr Barrington have in your past that is so terrible, you will not be content until you have destroyed each other. After that disastrous ball I came to a decision, but unfortunately Mr Barrington showed his hand before I could act on it.’

  ‘And what was that?’

  ‘When I came to England my father made me an allowance, which he reviews every year. I have enough to pay for my passage to Paris. Because there are dangers of a young woman travelling alone—especially in a foreign country—I had no wish to travel alone, which was why I approached you. However, yesterday I made up my mind to do just that. I think it’s time I took my life in my own hands. I will also write to my father. I would like to know what he has to say concerning his decision to marry me off to Mr Barrington.’

  ‘Mark Barrington is not unknown here in London. His flamboyant life style and charm and exuberance for life has always been appreciated—although he’s seen as something of a loner, which is why it is such a surprise to everyone for him to suddenly appear betrothed to you. From what you
have told me, Aspendale is one of Louisiana’s thriving ranches. As your father’s heir and with the expectation of coming into a handsome fortune, if Barrington married you he would have complete control over your affairs. After his performance at the tables at Skeffington House, he has clearly lost his touch. As an alternative scheme he has decided to marry his way to a fortune—which would not be the first time. But I feel there is more at the back of all this. My concern is for your father.’

  ‘Yes—mine, too.’

  ‘I would advise you to do nothing until you have spoken to your godmother. I believe you are still in danger and I will continue to protect you until she returns to London.’

  ‘That is considerate of you, but I am sure you have more important matters that concern you without protecting me.’

  Lucy’s troubles and her very presence were in danger of making him forget his reason for being in London—mainly selling his beloved ship, the Sea Nymph, and coming to terms with taking on a dukedom. And he knew it would be bound to create a stir of curiosity should it be known she was staying in his house unchaperoned.

  ‘I feel I must dissuade you from travelling to Paris alone. You are right. The dangers that could beset a young woman travelling along are many and to be avoided.’

  ‘There is nothing else for it. I will not go back to that house.’

  ‘No, of course not. I will take you somewhere where you will be safe. I promise you.’

  Tilting her head to one side, Lucy eyed him curiously. ‘You are a very mysterious man, Viscount Rockley. Why are you in London? Why are you suddenly selling off your assets—your ship and your father’s shipping business in Charleston? What secrets are you hiding?’

  ‘There are no secrets—just some matters I prefer to keep to myself.’

  ‘Of course, and I wouldn’t want to pry. But how should I address you—as Captain Wilding or Lord Rockley? I’m not sure, you see, how one should address a viscount, never having met one before.’