The Book of Love (Books 1-3): A Regency Romance Collection

by Meara Platt

  “Bitch!” he cried, dropping his knife and releasing her to pull out the pin she’d jammed deep into his skin.

  She screamed at the top of her lungs and tried to run, but Lord Marston grabbed her. She fought against him, not realizing he had picked up the knife her guardian had dropped. It sliced into her skin just above her breast.

  “Fool!” Lord Gosling hissed. “You’ve wounded her.”

  Pain shot through Olivia and she fell to her knees, for Lord Marston realized too late what he’d done and released her with a muffled curse.

  Wounded me?

  She did feel a burning pain. As she looked down, she noticed blood beginning to spew from her chest and cover the ivory-silk bodice of her gown. “Oh, God.”

  “No one said she’d be hurt,” one of Lord Gosling’s cohorts cried. “We never agreed to this.”

  All four of them abandoned her and ran away.

  She felt the vibration of their footsteps along the ground, for she’d now collapsed and was lying on the cold stone of the terrace floor.

  She heard shouts. Felt a breeze against her hair as men began to rush out of the ballroom to chase her attackers.

  Through the blur of her tears, she saw Beast leap over the balustrade like a wild animal hunting its prey, and then heard grunts and panicked cries as he took down those fleeing men. Thad and Nathaniel followed on his heels, and several other gentlemen who were not quite as spry also gave chase.

  Her head was spinning.

  She tried to rise but staggered and fell back to her knees.

  Penelope and Poppy were now beside her, both calling for Beast. “Olivia, don’t try to get up. It will be all right.” But they were both crying, for blood was still spewing from her wound and crimson now stained the entire bodice of her gown. Her hand was soaked in blood as well, for she’d put it over the cut in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

  She saw the liquid crimson everywhere, even in a little pool on the ground. Her chest hurt like blazes.

  “Oh, God! Olivia!” Beast was now at her side. He lifted her into his arms. “Hold on, my love,” he said in a raw and raspy whisper as he carried her through the ballroom, toward Lord Forster’s library.

  “Not there, Beast,” she said with a sob, “I want to go home.”

  “Soon, my love. I need to stop the bleeding first. Fetch a doctor,” he called out to Lord Forster as he made his way through the stunned and now hushed crowd.

  Poppy and Penelope were trailing behind Beast. “I’ll fetch my uncle,” Poppy said. “He’s the most highly regarded physician in London. He doesn’t live far.”

  “Of course, George Farthingale.” Beast sounded relieved. “Is he at home now, Poppy?”

  “Yes, I’ll run all the way.”

  Olivia heard more murmurs of “doctor” and “Farthingale” and then heard Nathaniel’s voice as he caught up to them. “I’ll go with you, Poppy. We’ll take my carriage. It’s being brought around now. Beast, shall we bring him here or to your home?”

  “Here. I dare not move Olivia yet. But have my carriage brought around as well. Where’s Thad?”

  “With the other men. They’re holding her guardian and his cohorts. Lord Forster has allowed your Bow Street runners in. They’ll guard them and see they’re properly put under arrest.”

  Beast muttered a curse in frustration. “They should have been in here tonight. I ought to have insisted. I knew what they were up to.”

  “They were determined to abduct Olivia no matter what precautions were put in place,” Nathaniel insisted. “You did all you could.”

  Olivia tried to nod her assurance, but every little movement hurt. Besides, she knew it would do little to change Beast’s mind. He blamed himself, no matter that he hadn’t held the knife to her throat or stabbed her or attempted to abduct her.

  They reached the library, and Beast set her down gently on the leather sofa. “Hold on, love. I’m going to try to stop the bleeding.” His voice was still raspy and barely above a whisper. “Hold on to me as I am holding on to you. I won’t let go of you. I won’t ever let go of you.”

  He knelt beside her and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

  “Beast, it wasn’t supposed to be like this,” she said in a sob.

  “I know.” He removed a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his evening jacket and ever so carefully used it to dab around the edges of her wound. “My love, I have to tear away the fabric. It doesn’t appear to be a deep cut, thank The Graces. He didn’t stab you.”

  “No, I struggled not realizing Lord Marston held a knife against me.”

  “You’ll need a few stitches. Poppy’s uncle will take care of that.”

  “Hartford,” said someone with an authoritative voice. The man was standing over Beast’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I never realized. You have my consent. Freely given. I’ll deal with the culprits.” The man then turned and walked away.

  She tried to sit up but Beast gently held her down. “Lie still, my love.”

  “Who was that?”

  Beast caressed her cheek. “Prinny.”

  She closed her eyes and gave a little nod. “Then we won’t need to dash to Gretna Green?”

  “No, love.”

  “Good, I’m not up to travel at the moment.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Beast had been late to arrive at Lord Forster’s ball and wasn’t happy about it. The ballroom was crowded and he did not doubt that all of London Society had been invited, including Lord Gosling and Lord Marston. For this reason alone, he’d wanted to return home in time to escort Goose and remain close to her side throughout the evening.

  But Prinny was suddenly his best friend and not letting go of him, so he had to send for his valet to bring his evening clothes to the prince’s residence. He’d been given one of the guest chambers in which to wash and dress and then been invited to ride in the royal carriage to Lord Forster’s home.

  Since all the royals were political animals, perhaps a necessity for their survival, he knew Prinny’s wanting to make his grand entrance alongside him had little do with Goose and all to do with currying favor with the Parliament elite. Since he and Wellington were England’s favorites at the moment, Prinny was going to keep them close.

  A chill ran up his spine the moment he surveyed the ballroom. He was standing at the top of the imposing staircase, he and Prinny side by side, giving the revelers time to adore and worship them. He scanned the crowd, not certain why his attention was suddenly drawn to the terrace, but he’d noticed a flash of white silk and then it was gone.

  Lavinia and Matilda were seated beside the terrace doors.

  No sign of Goose.

  Then he knew.

  He just knew.

  He leaped down the stairs and shoved his way through the crowd, ignoring the gasps and grumbles of those he’d pushed aside. He heard Goose scream as he neared the terrace. She’d fallen to her knees, but he saw the men who were now running away and recognized her odious guardian and Lord Marston. He couldn’t make out the identity of the other two, but it mattered little at the moment.

  He jumped over the terrace balustrade and brought two of them down as he landed. He did not know if they were reaching for weapons, but he punched each one in the jaw, knocking both out. He’d sort out the details later.

  “I’ve got them,” Nathaniel said, reaching his side. “Thad’s chasing the others.”

  Beast took off to assist his friend.

  Perhaps it was a good thing that Thad had reached Lord Gosling first and subdued him. Beast was blind with rage and would have killed the man if Thad hadn’t held him back. He went after Marston and hauled him back, dropping him at Thad’s feet.

  “We’ve got them all, Beast. Lord Forster’s footmen will help me bring them back inside,” Thad said. “Olivia fell down. Go see how she’s doing.”

  Beast pushed his way through the small crowd gathered around Olivia. Penelope and Poppy were in tears beside her. She was still on the ground. He
knelt beside her and his heart suddenly exploded.

  She was covered in blood.

  “Goose, no.” His voice was a strangled whisper. He wrapped her in his arms and felt her body trembling as he carried her toward Lord Forster’s library. He resolved to kill her guardian and Marston with his bare hands if… no, she had to live.

  She had to.

  He’d carried her like this before, the little girl he’d pulled out of the pond, her forehead bleeding and her tiny body soaking wet. She was his Little Goose.

  She was sunshine and smiles and all things good.

  Prinny stepped forward.

  The lethal glower he cast Prinny turned him ashen. “Hartford… I…”

  “Not now. She needs a doctor.” He dared say no more, for his thoughts were murderous and filled with rage toward everyone who had let this happen, even himself.

  He settled Goose on the sofa in the library, holding on to her with all the strength in his heart and soul. She needed him to remain calm and tend to her, so he entwined his fingers in hers and stroked her hair while he called for Lord Forster’s staff to bring him water, clean cloths, and a bottle of whiskey with which to cleanse her wound.

  Goose’s blood had soaked through his own handkerchief as he ever so gently pressed it to the cut. Within moments, a footman returned with all he’d asked. He took the whiskey and linens from his hands, and motioned for him to place the water ewer on a nearby side table. “Wait outside the door. Stay close enough to hear if I call for you.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  Penelope was standing quietly behind him. “What can I do?”

  “Stand next to her. Stroke her hair. Help me clean off her hands.” He opened the whiskey bottle and poured some of the amber liquid onto the cloth. “Goose, I have to peel away the fabric around the area of the wound. I’m going to use the whiskey to cleanse it.”

  “Breast of goose,” she murmured, casting him a wan smile. “Will it hurt?”

  “Yes, love. Quite a bit. But your injury isn’t as bad as I’d first feared. What you have is a nasty cut, not a stab wound. Try to hold as still as possible, Olivia.”

  “You called me Olivia,” she said, as he was about to rub the cloth over the top of her breast.

  This is what she took from his words? He shook his head and groaned. “What can I say? What happened this evening shook me to the core.”

  “Me too, Beast.”

  “I know, love. You gave me quite a scare. My heart is still in my throat and my entire body is shaking. But now that the blood is cleared away, I can see the blade made a superficial slice across the swell of your breast.”

  She cast him another small smile. “Just like The Book of Love says. It always comes down to breasts. Oh, Beast! Now mine will always be scarred.”

  He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I didn’t fall in love with one breast. I fell in love with you. All of you. The scar will fade in time, but my love for you never will.”

  Her eyes widened in obvious surprise. “What a lovely thing to say. I never realized you were a romantic.”

  He glanced over at Penelope who was still beside her and now smirking at him. He winced. “Don’t you start on me, Loopy. You’re not going to repeat this to Nathaniel or Thad, are you?”

  Penelope’s expression softened. “I can be bribed to keep quiet. Do you want me to leave? I didn’t mean to intrude. The two of you must have much to say to each other.”

  “No, stay. I need you to put your hands on her shoulders to hold her down. I’m about to cleanse the wound, and as I said, it will hurt. Goose, I think you’re going to hate me now. Just remember, I’m doing this to save your life.” He lowered the cloth to her breast. “Hold your breath.”

  “The devil!” she blurted as he pressed the whiskey-soaked cloth to her skin and obviously felt the intense burn along the length of her wound.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks. “You’re right. I hate you.”

  “I know. It can’t be helped. An infection of the blood will hurt a thousand times more.”

  She groaned. “I don’t really hate you, Beast.”

  He ran his thumb along her cheek. “I know.”

  He took another cloth and gently pressed it against the now cleansed wound. “The bleeding has slowed down. Lie still, Goose. All we have to do now is wait for Dr. Farthingale.”

  “I liked it when you called me Olivia. But now that I’m back to being Goose, I think it is a good sign. It means you think I’m going to survive.” She smiled at him, a fragile smile that sparkled like sunlight on a crystal-blue lake.

  Penelope cleared her throat. “Do you need me any longer? I really feel as though I’m intruding here.”

  “You’re not,” he and Goose said at the same time.

  She laughed. “Oh, yes. Indeed I am. I think Lavinia and Matilda must be frantic with worry. They’ll want to know Olivia’s condition.” She frowned suddenly and cast Beast an uncertain look. “Can I tell them she will recover?”

  He nodded. “She will recover fully. Tell them I said so and that I am never wrong.”

  Goose turned to him as soon as Penelope left. “Is it true, Beast? Will I survive or did you just tell her that so she wouldn’t fall apart in front of me?”

  “It’s true. I’ve seen plenty of war wounds and treated too many to count. We all become healers of a sort on the field of battle. I’m sorry I had to pour whiskey on your cut. I know it burned like blazes. But it was necessary.”

  “You did what you had to. I trust you.” She glanced down at her gown and her face paled. “Oh, dear. What a horrible sight. And it was such a lovely design. Madame de Bressard and her seamstresses worked tirelessly to finish it in time.”

  “I’ll buy you a hundred others. Madame de Bressard and her seamstresses will be very happy. How do you feel, love?”

  He was still changing out the cloths on her breast, putting slight pressure on the wound in order to stop the bleeding. Although he did not want to think of when he touched her breast the first time, he couldn’t help himself. He was touching her because she was injured, but the fullness and softness of her felt so right and perfect.

  She licked her lips. “I’m thirsty. A little hungry, too.”

  “I dare not give you food or drink just yet. I’ll dab some water on your lips. Dr. Farthingale will be here shortly. I’m not sure what medicine he’ll give you to help numb the area around the wound. You’ll need four or five stitches to close it properly, perhaps more.”

  She closed her eyes. “I’m glad you’re beside me, Beast.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. “Nowhere else I’d rather be, my love.”

  “I’ve read so many romantic stories where the heroine dies tragically in the arms of the man she loves. I–”

  “You’re not going to die,” he said with a growl. “I won’t let you. Besides, death is not romantic.”

  “No, I don’t suppose it is. Oh, Beast, don’t frown. I have no intention of doing so. Those heroines died gracefully. I would fight and curse to the very end. Besides, if I did die, then what is the point of The Book of Love falling on my head? Twice.”

  “No point at all.”

  He said no more as Dr. Farthingale arrived. He’d never met the man, but had heard his name mentioned often enough to know he was one of the most highly regarded doctors in London. He’d intended to pay a call on him to seek treatment for his injured eye. That would have to wait until after he and Goose were married. Protecting her was first among the items on his list of priorities.

  Poppy had spoken often of her relatives, so Beast wasn’t surprised that George Farthingale had blue eyes and dark hair just like Poppy. Seemed the dark hair and blue eyes was a fairly common trait among the Farthingales.

  “Your Grace, would you mind stepping aside while I examine Lady Olivia?” But it took him only a moment to notice that her wound had already been tended to. “Did you do this?”

  “I cleansed it with whiskey,” Beast mu
ttered, realizing he should have done more to clean Goose up, for blood was still all over her gown and much of her body, although he and Penelope had wiped most of it off her hands.

  “Well done.” He then turned to Olivia and began to explain what he needed to do. “You’ll need stitches. Five or six at most.”

  Beast took an instant liking to the man, for he had an aura of competence and quiet authority without being full of himself. He looked on as Dr. Farthingale dug through his medicine bag and brought out his sutures and needle.

  The doctor cast Goose a wry smile. “I think you’re going to detest me as much as you must have detested His Grace when he poured the whiskey onto your wound. I have to stitch it, and it will hurt. I’m going to give you some laudanum first to help ease the pain as I work on you, but it will make you quite lightheaded. Hopefully, it will put you out for a few hours but not leave you nauseated. You’ll be in pain when you wake up. I’ll leave you enough laudanum to get you through the next few days. However, I recommend you use it sparingly.”

  She nodded.

  The doctor waited until the drug began to take effect.

  “Olivia, I love you,” Beast said, kissing her on the forehead and taking hold of her hand when the doctor doused more whiskey on the wound and began to apply the sutures.

  *

  Olivia awoke to find herself in a large, comfortable bed. The last thing she remembered was Beast wrapping his arms around her as Dr. Farthingale began to stitch along the area of the cut. She tried to get up, but immediately fell back against the pillows that had been propped behind her. Pain tore through her chest. “Where am I?” she muttered, believing herself alone and merely talking to herself.

  She was surprised to hear a deep, rumbling voice give answer. “You’re home, love.”

  “Beast?” She gave a shaky laugh, now realizing she was in her guest bedchamber at Beast’s townhouse. He must have brought her here after Poppy’s relative had finished tending to her, but she had no memory of it. “Have you been with me all this time?”