Harlequin Historical May 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

by Sarah Mallory

  Becoming concerned when the servant informed her that Lady Amelia had not been her usual cheerful self when she had returned from the shops earlier, Lucy went in search of Christopher. An inner sense told her something was wrong. Where on earth could Amelia have gone and without informing anyone of her destination?

  Christopher was just coming out of the study and looked at her when she came rushing down the stairs.

  ‘Lucy! What’s wrong?’

  ‘It’s Amelia. She’s gone out apparently and told no one where she was going. Where on earth can she be?’

  Every muscle in Christopher’s body went rigid as he looked at her. ‘Gone? Gone where?’

  ‘I wish I knew. One of the maids told me that she hadn’t seemed herself since she returned from the shops earlier.’

  ‘Was she alone?’

  ‘No, she was accompanied by her maid.’

  ‘I cannot believe Amelia has done something so irresponsible as going out by herself. I’ll check and see if she’s taken the carriage.’

  ‘There’s no need. They were seen getting into a coach waiting across the street.’ Lucy went to him, gripping his arm. ‘It isn’t like Amelia to do something so inconsiderate and irresponsible as to leave the house so suddenly and without a word.’

  Things became chaotic as they tried to find out where Amelia might have gone. It was when the maid who had seen her leave the house told them that her maid had mentioned that a gentleman had approached Lady Amelia when she had been leaving a shop on the Strand that they became seriously concerned. Not having seen him herself, she could give no description, only that he had appeared to be acquainted with Lady Amelia.’

  As he listened, Christopher’s face became hard. His eyes were ice-cold and shining with a light that seemed to come from the depths of him. ‘Barrington. It has to be him.’

  ‘How can you be certain?’

  ‘I am. You thought you had seen him yourself yesterday—it has to be him. Who else could it be? So—at last he shows his hand,’ Christopher said bitterly. ‘How dare he make Amelia the instrument of his vengeance? I do not intend letting him destroy her all over again because of all the real and imagined grievances he has for myself.’

  ‘But—how do we know where to look for her? We didn’t even know Mr Barrington was in London.’

  ‘I have to try. I’ll go and make some enquiries at his old haunts. He might have been there and even taken Amelia there. Thank God she had the presence of mind to take her maid with her.’ In the grip of an unnamed terror, Christopher wouldn’t let himself even imagine what Barrington might be subjecting Amelia to.

  In a fever of apprehension Lucy watched him leave the house, praying he would find his sister and bring her back safely. She went to tell the Duke and Aunt Caroline what had happened. The three of them sat down to wait for Christopher to return. The longer Lucy waited, the tighter her nerves stretched. She listened to the clock on the mantelpiece chime two hours away.

  * * *

  Christopher finally returned, having scoured all the places he thought Mr Barrington might be, but his efforts had come to nothing.

  Lucy was in despair when she looked with pain-filled eyes at Christopher’s drawn face as he paced back and forth across the room.

  ‘Where the devil is she? How dare she go her own way—defy me in this outrageous manner? I expressly told her not to go anywhere without notifying me first.’

  Lucy knew that what he was feeling was rage at his own inadequacy to know where else to look and pure madness and cold murder flared in his eyes. ‘Well, what is clear is that she wasn’t forcibly abducted. She went with him of her own volition. They must have arranged to meet. Apparently she took nothing with her, which indicates that she had no intention of leaving the house for long.’

  ‘Barrington is devious, don’t forget. He might have other ideas. No doubt he had it all well planned.’

  ‘Perhaps I might make a suggestion.’

  Christopher stopped pacing and looked at her with avid interest, willing to listen to anything that might throw some light on the whereabouts of Amelia.

  ‘I’ve had a thought,’ she said, ‘although it might come to nothing—but at the Skeffington ball he was in the company of a man called Sir Simon Bucklow. Perhaps he might have seen Mr Barrington.’

  Christopher stared at her, absorbing her words. ‘Sir Simon Bucklow,’ he repeated. ‘Of course. Why didn’t I think of him? I know where he lives—in Kensington. I’ll go there right away.’

  ‘I’m coming with you.’

  Christopher turned on her sharply. ‘You will do no such thing. I forbid it. You will wait here with my grandfather until I return.’

  Lucy stood her ground, facing her husband with defiance in every line of her body, her face taut and determined. ‘Don’t try to stop me. I insist. I think we both know it isn’t Amelia that he’s interested in—that he’s only doing this to strike at you. In the meantime she might return. With any luck she’ll come back of her own volition.’

  Seeing she was not to be deterred, and not wishing to lose any more time arguing, Christopher nodded. ‘Very well.’

  * * *

  On reaching Sir Simon Bucklow’s house in Kensington they were admitted immediately and shown into a large drawing room. Christopher walked in, his jaw hard and set, his face far more ominous than amiable. There were four people in the room, two men and two women. The women, seated on a stylish sofa, were Amelia and her maid and the men, Simon Bucklow and Mark Barrington, were standing a little way from Amelia. Sir Simon, who was most put out at having his friend accosted in his own drawing room, excused himself and quietly left the room. Christopher glanced at Amelia’s maid and she did likewise.

  The air crackled with tension as the two men eyed each other. Christopher was icy cold, in complete control of himself, but a muscle in his cheek tightened almost imperceptible. Mark Barrington’s eyes were sullen, his mouth curled in defiance, the lower lips thrust out. He stared at Christopher’s menacing figure, who looked as though he could kill without blinking.

  After summing up the situation, Christopher was the first to speak. His voice was calm, frighteningly calm. ‘So, Barrington, we meet again. Our last encounter was a memorable one as I recall. You still owe me—or has it slipped your mind.’

  ‘I’ve been in New Orleans and only recently returned to London.’

  ‘I trust you found New Orleans entertaining. There are enough gambling halls to satisfy even you. Although knowing your luck you probably lost a bundle,’ Christopher retorted with contempt.

  Barrington shrugged. ‘It happens. New Orleans is a gambler’s paradise.’

  ‘If you want to squander your money, Barrington, it is no concern of mine. No doubt you have creditors as well as me who are baying for your blood.’

  ‘A few—but it might surprise you to know that I am here to settle my debt to you. New Orleans was lucky for me. I intend to return as soon as I am able.’

  ‘Good riddance, Barrington. Send me what you owe and disappear. My concern is for my sister and what she is doing here.’

  ‘Why, we met earlier today and I was most eager to renew our acquaintance, is that not so, Amelia?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, her answer barely discernible.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ Christopher asked.

  ‘No. I’m sorry, Christopher. I saw Mark when I was at the shops. He—he said it would be good for us to meet—to talk. In a moment of impulsiveness I agreed. I—I know what he did to Lucy—how he hurt us both—but I had to see him. Try to understand, I beg of you. We parted suddenly. I had to know why he didn’t stay and fight for me—how he could have left me like that.’ She turned to Lucy. ‘I tried to see him as Christopher portrayed him—a calculating, conscienceless predator—but I wasn’t convinced—not until Christopher told me what he had tried to do to you and how many other women I
didn’t know about. I was gullible and foolish—but I had to talk to him. After what happened to me—I—I couldn’t talk about it for a long time. It didn’t alter how I felt about him—how much I loved him. This way, seeing him again, will enable me to draw a line under it. I didn’t dare tell you, Christopher, because I knew you wouldn’t let me see him.’

  ‘You’re damn right I wouldn’t,’ Christopher ground out.

  Amelia flinched from his wrath, tears beginning to run down her cheeks.

  ‘Did it not occur to you what his intentions were? Had it not been for Lucy remembering he was acquainted with Simon Bucklow we would never have found you.’

  ‘I’m so sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused,’ she cried. ‘I didn’t mean to.’

  ‘Christopher, please,’ said Lucy, going to sit beside her and putting a comforting arm round the distraught young woman. ‘Let us not go into this now. Amelia is clearly distraught.’

  ‘And now you have seen him,’ Christopher said, ‘what conclusion have you come to?’

  ‘We haven’t discussed what happened yet.’ She looked at Mark. ‘I hope you have not prepared some intricate fabrication for I shall not believe it.’

  ‘I’ve told you that the man is a dangerous opportunist, Amelia,’ Christopher retorted harshly, unable to believe what he was hearing. ‘Have you forgotten what he did to you—what he did to Lucy? Had she not fought back this devil would have raped her. The man should be horsewhipped.’

  Barrington smiled smugly. His gaze went past Christopher and settled on Lucy. ‘I see you have brought your wife with you, Rockley.’ He smiled. ‘She appears to be none the worse for the assault you speak of.’

  ‘It was fortunate for you that she didn’t kill you after what you put her through.’

  Barrington’s eyes narrowed and began to glitter dangerously. His smile was unpleasant as he shrugged himself away from the fireplace. ‘I’m not that easy to get rid of. The incident you speak of occurred over a year ago.’

  ‘‘It hardly matters how much time has passed as long as justice is done.’

  ‘There were no actual witnesses and I shall disavow any knowledge of that. Where the betrothal is concerned, the whole thing was concocted by Sofia, your stepmother,’ he pointed out, looking coldly at Lucy, ‘who, on the demise of your father, acted in your best interests by arranging your marriage—not an unusual occurrence, I might add.’

  ‘And you were eager to participate,’ Christopher bit back.

  ‘Of course, and in the eyes of English society so did Lucy—at least that is what everyone surmised when I introduced her as my fiancée—whom she jilted in favour of you. So you see, I was seen as the injured party.’

  ‘Not any longer. Are you aware that there is a warrant out for your arrest?’

  ‘I am. If you wish to call in the police from Bow Street, then do so and we’ll see what they have to say. But I think even you would prefer not to air our dirty linen in public. But,’ he said, looking from Amelia to Lucy, ‘if you feel honour must be satisfied then go ahead. Of course we could settle this as gentlemen and arrange pistols at dawn and all that, but you are by far the better shot, so killing me could indeed be construed as murder. No doubt the authorities would be reluctant to lock up the heir to a dukedom and it could be talked out of, but the scandal would get out and do your aristocratic name no good.’

  ‘I’m willing to risk it.’

  The air inside the room was charged with tension as the two men faced each other, hate trembling in the air between them.

  ‘Please, Christopher—leave it,’ Lucy said. ‘I don’t want this, I don’t want anyone to be hurt.’ Christopher’s angry eyes bored into hers like daggers. ‘I mean it. Now is not the time to argue with your notions of honour.’

  He nodded. ‘I suppose you are right, damn it. No matter how much I want to put this man behind bars, I can see no point in dredging up a scandal. It would serve no purpose. Your reputation is already tarnished thanks to this man, but I can see no reason to destroy Amelia’s.’

  ‘After what you did in Charleston, separating me from Amelia, you deserve to live in wretchedness till your life’s end,’ Barrington retorted. ‘I’m not proud of the way I treated her, but you had no right to separate us.’

  Christopher’s mouth curled cruelly. ‘I had every right. She was underage at the time and both her parents were dead, leaving me her guardian. You didn’t put up much of a fight. The way I remember it, when you realised there would be nothing in it for you, you hotfooted it back to New Orleans. You didn’t give a damn what she might do.’

  ‘Do? Why, what did she do?’

  ‘Please, Christopher,’ Amelia cried. ‘He doesn’t know—I haven’t told him.’

  Perplexed, Barrington looked from one to the other. ‘Told me? What haven’t you told me?’

  ‘Unable to live with the shame of what you had done to her, she tried to take her own life. I found her in time, thank God, but she lost the child.’

  The silence that fell on the room was so profound that if anyone had entered at that moment they would have heard their hearts beating. Barrington’s face became filled with honest puzzlement as his mind took its time to register what Christopher was saying.

  ‘What the devil are you saying, Rockley?’

  ‘You mean to tell me,’ Christopher said, a sudden chill entering his bones, ‘that when you left my sister in Charleston you were unaware that she was carrying your child?’

  Horror flashed into Barrington’s face. ‘She was to bear my child?’

  ‘You didn’t know?’

  ‘Of course not. My God,’ he said, looking at Amelia. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I would have—if you hadn’t left me.’

  He glared at Christopher. ‘Why didn’t you tell me when you insisted I leave her alone?’

  ‘Because I didn’t know, either. But later I thought you did.’

  His shoulders sagging, as if all the life had drained out of him, Barrington lowered his head. ‘No.’ And he said nothing more. It was a quiet sound that hung between them, without anger or emotion, but it held all the cruel and bitter anguish which he felt.

  ‘I don’t think we have anything left to say to each other except that I will give you one week to settle your affairs. If, by that time, you are still in London, I shall have you arrested for the crime you committed against my wife and to hell with the scandal.’ Striding across the room, Christopher took the lapels of Barrington’s coat and thrust his face close to his. ‘If you ever touch either of these women again or even speak to them, I swear by everything I hold sacred that I will personally kill you. Do you understand, Barrington?’ Releasing his hold on his lapels, Christopher pushed him away. He turned to Lucy. ‘Let’s go. Amelia?’

  Amelia got to her feet. She looked at the man who had caused her so much misery, the tears having dried. ‘Goodbye, Mark.’

  Without a word the three of them left the room.

  Lucy told Amelia’s maid to take her out to the carriage before turning to Christopher.

  ‘I did not expect Mr Barrington to be so affected by what he learned.’

  ‘No—and I feel no satisfaction for what I have just done, no sense of victory for overcoming a man who is my enemy—only a bitter taste of self-loathing, despising myself for having completely annihilated someone who believed he had every justification in the world to hate me.’

  * * *

  There was much relief and many questions when they arrived back home. Amelia was quiet, but not too downcast after seeing Mark Barrington. It was as if seeing him again had laid to rest any fears and questions that had been left unresolved. Before retiring for the night, she was already planning her social life for the following two weeks she was to remain in London with her grandfather.

  It was a great relief when Lucy and Christopher closed the door to t
heir room. Lady Sutton had returned to Curzon Street and the house was quiet. Seating himself in a chair beside the hearth, Christopher pulled Lucy down on to his lap.

  ‘I never thought I needed a wife to complete my life. Now I couldn’t imagine living without one.’

  ‘Well, that’s a relief,’ Lucy said, wrapping her arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his lips. ‘Although after just twenty-four hours you haven’t had much practice at being a husband.’

  ‘I intend to enjoy every minute of it,’ he murmured, nuzzling her neck. In his opinion this was a fine way to spend an evening, but sitting in a chair with his wife on his lap when there was a perfectly good bed in the room called for a change. Breaking the kiss, he stood up with her in his arms, a move that surprised her.

  ‘Where are you taking me?’

  ‘To bed,’ he said, trailing kisses along her throat as he carried her to the bed.

  ‘Why, do you feel like sleeping?’ she enquired softly.

  ‘The feel of you in my arms banishes all sleep from my mind, my love, and tempts me to exercise my husbandly rights. Today was the first day as husband and wife and it hasn’t turned out as either of us expected. So this is our time, to be enjoyed.’

  ‘How exciting,’ she murmured and placed a warm kiss on his lips.

  He gave her a lusty look that made her heart skip a beat.

  * * *

  There followed a period of loving which left Lucy filled with a marvellous languor that glowed inside and warmed her whole body. Christopher’s kisses trapped the sensations inside her as love rushed to the surface to meet the outpouring of passion. Afterwards there was teasing and soft laughter, and Christopher looked at his wife, loving her. He was sprawled on the bed in a blissful state of collapse. Lucy looked at him and smiled to herself, overwhelmed with a shimmering happiness that seemed to sing inside her.