Regency Romances for the Ages

by Grace Fletcher

  Evangeline hadn’t taken that into consideration.

  “She wanted to protect me.” He swallowed. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

  Then Richard touched his hand. He was still looking scared, but he wasn’t crying anymore.

  “Ma said you wouldn’t love her anymore because Uncle Eddie’s a traitor.”

  Manchester squeezed his son’s hand.

  “Your mother was a fool.”

  “Much like your father,” Hutch muttered.

  Manchester ignored that. He squeezed Richard’s shoulder and kissed his head.

  “Stay with Hutch, Richard. I’m just going to help your mother.”

  “Rob…”

  But Manchester was already hurrying away.

  ***

  “I never thought I’d see you again, Your Grace,” McNally sneered. “You’re very good at hiding.”

  This wasn’t what Evangeline had wanted. It was bad enough she would never see Richard again without having her blackmailer corner her right outside the courthouse. She just wanted to leave and go back to the hotel.

  Where was Hutch? He said he was stay close by in case she needed help. But he was nowhere to be seen. She had to face McNally on her own.

  “What do you want, Mr. McNally?”

  McNally leered at her, stepping closer to her. Evangeline flinched and pressed herself further against the tree. She could only hope someone saw them and realized she was in trouble. But they were practically out of sight; surely no one would see them.

  “You know what I want.”

  “You’re still pursuing me for that money?”

  “Just because you disappeared doesn’t mean the…arrangement…went away,” McNally smirked. “It’s always going to be there until you pay up.”

  Chapter 10

  Together At Long Last

  So, her running had been for nothing. It wouldn’t have mattered if Evangeline had never been found; she would have always had to pay.

  “You…” she started, but McNally held up a finger, wagging it in her face.

  “Tut, tut, my lady. Duchesses don’t curse. It’s very unladylike.”

  Evangeline had had enough. Her husband hated her and she would never see her son again. She didn’t care anymore what happened to her. She slapped his hand away and shoved him hard in the chest.

  “What are you going to do if I refuse to pay?” she challenged. “Tell my husband? That’s not going to work anymore. He hates me. That man has taken everything from me and I have nothing left to lose and no money to pay you.” She flung her arms out, her voice getting louder. “Go ahead, do your worst, sir. I don’t care anymore.”

  McNally looked a little taken aback. Evangeline had been timid at twenty. Five and a half years later and she had grown into a woman with a steely determination. It was frayed around the edges with Manchester suddenly coming back into her life, but it was still there.

  “You don’t want your son to grow up knowing what his uncle did, do you?”

  “He knows the truth. I made sure to tell him.”

  McNally’s expression indicated he wasn’t expecting that. Evangeline wasn’t afraid to let her son know what had happened. It was better he knew the truth than to hear lies from somebody else.

  McNally recovered quickly. Still, no one was paying them any attention.

  “Well, you may not care about your husband knowing. But what about Society? Your family? I hear your parents believe you’re dead.”

  “Do your worst, McNally,” Evangeline hissed. “I’ve lost my husband and my son. I don’t care about what you do anymore.” She shoved him again. “Now, take your leave.”

  She wanted to get out of there, go back to her hotel and lock herself up. But McNally didn’t let her get far, grabbing her arm and swinging her around. Evangeline found herself hitting his chest on the spin and then her wrist held in a very tight grip. McNally held her close, his face inches from her.

  “We haven’t finished yet, my lady,” he hissed. “We’re just getting started. And I want my money.”

  Then Evangeline saw a tall figure behind him. McNally was grabbed by the collar and pulled back, letting go of Evangeline in his surprise. Evangeline stumbled back and watched as Manchester hauled McNally to him before punching him in the face. McNally’s head snapped back, and he stumbled. Then Manchester punched him again. Evangeline heard something crack and McNally’s mouth and nose were suddenly coated in blood.

  What had just happened?

  Manchester grabbed McNally before he fell to the ground and pushed him up against the tree. His hand was around the man’s throat and Evangeline could see the white-knuckle grip on his hand. McNally gurgled and tried to push the hand away, but Manchester’s grip simply tightened. His face was red with rage, his eyes glittering with dark fury.

  “You come anywhere near me or my family again and I’ll make sure you never walk again.”

  “I…” McNally choked, his face going white. “I didn’t mean anything, Your Grace.”

  “Yes, you did,” Manchester snarled. “Because of you, I lost my wife for five years. I lost the chance to see my son grow up. You took that from me. And I’m not going to go easy on you if I see your face again. If the duchess wasn’t here, I would be doing more than giving you a simple warning.” Then he stepped back and pushed McNally towards the street. “Get out of here.”

  McNally stumbled and fell, almost falling into Evangeline. She darted out of the way and watched as the fiend who seemed to have lost his bravado since her husband turned up, scrambled to his feet, clutching at his nose and hurrying into the street.

  ***

  Manchester had flown into a rage when he saw the man put his hands on Evangeline. He wanted to rip him to pieces. But knowing where they were stopped him from going too far. If they had been somewhere more private, however…

  McNally would not have stood a chance.

  What surprised him was that there was nobody to witness this. Hutch and Richard were watching but nobody else had made it known they could see what was happening. They were going to ask questions when McNally stumbled out with a bloody nose, but no one saw the fight.

  There were days when Manchester loved the British public.

  His hand still stinging, he turned to his wife. Evangeline looked lost for words, her eyes wide and bright. She looked stunned. And alone.

  He couldn’t keep himself away any longer. Manchester strode to her and tugged his wife into his arms. Evangeline didn’t stop him as he kissed her like he was starving, clutching onto his jacket with tightened fists. She was trembling. Manchester wished he could make that stop.

  He pulled back enough to speak, unable to pull away from her more.

  “Forgive me, Evie,” he croaked.

  “I…” Evangeline’s eyes were still wide, her mouth swollen from his kissing. She bit her lip. “There’s nothing to forgive. I should be the one asking for forgiveness.”

  “No, it should be me.” Manchester rested his forehead against hers, still close holding her close. “I didn’t know the truth. But I do now. I know why you ran. And while I understand why you did, I wish you had told me.”

  “I had to.” Evangeline sounded choked. Manchester saw a tear trickle down her cheek. “I didn’t want to break your heart if you learned I was part of a family that helped my treasonous brother leave the country.”

  “I wouldn’t have cared about that. You were my wife, and I married you because I loved you.” Manchester kissed her, wiping away her tears. “You broke my heart by leaving without a word.”

  “I thought it was for the best.”

  “It wasn’t.”

  Evangeline was crying softly now. She cupped his jaw in her hand and looked him in the eye for the first time.

  “Like I said, I’m the one who should be asking for forgiveness. I kept Richard away from you for nearly six years. I didn’t want to, but I didn’t want McNally to come after me and make you realize what had happened.”

  She
had done all that for him. And she shouldn’t have needed to. Manchester hugged her tightly.

  “You should’ve told me.” Then he kissed her soundly. “But I forgive you.”

  “Can you forgive me for lying to you?”

  “About what?”

  Evangeline let out a shuddering breath.

  “When I said I didn’t love you anymore. I said that because I was too frightened to tell the truth.”

  Manchester had already figured it out. Evangeline was not someone who could change her emotions that easily. Not with him, anyway.

  “I already knew that.” But he needed to hear it again. Properly. “Just say it now. I need to hear it.”

  Evangeline smiled and kissed him.

  “I love you,” she whispered. “I’ve always loved you.”

  Manchester couldn’t have asked for anything better. He would have swept her into another kiss before taking her home, back where he wanted her, but they had eyes on them. Hutch and Richard were coming towards them. He smiled at Evangeline and kissed her forehead.

  “And I love you as well.” He nodded towards their guests. “And there’s someone who wants to see you.”

  Evangeline turned. She burst into tears and ran towards her son. Richard ran over to her and his mother swept him into her arms. The little boy clung onto Evangeline tightly, burying his face into her neck.

  “I don’t want you to go, Mama,” he whimpered. “Don’t go.”

  Evangeline looked up at Manchester. Hutch also raised his eyebrows at his friend.

  “What are you going to do about that, Your Grace?”

  Manchester smiled and approached his family, cupping Richard’s head as the little boy looked up at him with eyes that were so much like his own.

  “I might need to talk to the judge about it. But would you like to come home with me? Both you and your mother? I know your mother would want you with us.”

  Richard’s eyes lit up. Then he looked at Evangeline, who gave him a big smile.

  “I’m going with him.” She cupped his face lovingly. “What about you?”

  Richard flung his arms around his mother’s neck.

  “Yes!”

  Manchester stood beside them and slipped his arms around his wife’s shoulders, kissing her head as Evangeline leaned into him.

  “No more secrets?” he asked.

  Evangeline smiled up at him.

  “No more secrets.”

  *** The End ***

  The Duke &

  Isabella’s Pendant

  Regency Romance

  Grace Fletcher

  Chapter 1

  Beauty By the Lake

  Maurice Barrett, Duke of Northumberland, opened his eyes and realized he was back on the field. He could smell the gunpowder in his nostrils, filling the air, and there was also the distinct smell of blood. Several of his men lay nearby, clearly beyond saving as loud bangs of the cannons sounded around him.

  He couldn’t be back here, surely? He was at home. But North was really in France, fighting the French for dominance. And his attack on a particular battalion had gone horribly wrong. Now most of his men were gone and he…well, North didn’t know anymore. His head hurt like someone had split it open and he could hardly breathe. The gunpowder seemed to be filling his lungs.

  North slumped to his knees, clutching at his chest as he tried to breathe in clean air. But none came. He was suffocating, his throat closing up, and the blackness was pressing hard on his chest.

  “Your Grace!”

  That was a voice that sounded familiar. But North couldn’t place it. Then he felt someone shaking his shoulders.

  “Your Grace, wake up!”

  North jolted awake. He found himself staring at a white ceiling. The air was clear, and he could suddenly breathe again. It was glorious. Even though his head was still splitting.

  Then his eyes focused on the elderly man kneeling beside him, hands still gripping the younger man’s shoulders. North had to stop himself from embracing the man in relief, clutching his arm instead.

  “Wilson! Thank God!” North rubbed at his eyes. “I thought I was back in France.”

  His butler snorted.

  “No fear in that, Your Grace. After what you went through, you’re staying right here.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  North wasn’t in France at all. And wouldn’t be again for the unforeseeable future. He was back at his country estate in the north of England, lying on one of the couches in his study. Then North remembered he had attempted to start on some paperwork but his head had been hurting too much. So, he had decided to lie down and rest his eyes to see if that worked.

  Clearly, it hadn’t.

  North slowed sat up, holding onto his faithful servant as he swung his feet to the floor.

  “There’s nothing you needed of me, is there?”

  “No, Your Grace,” Wilson shook his head. “Mrs. Wilson and I have things under control. All you need to focus on is getting better.”

  The man was a godsend. He and his wife, the housekeeper, kept the house running smoothly. North had seen them do it when his father had been the duke and the previous Duke of Northumberland had spoken of how he witnessed Wilson and his wife start out as young people, before they married, working for his father. They had been in the same household for nearly sixty years and they were as sprightly as they had been at seventeen and eighteen.

  North gave his butler a grateful smile as he grasped his hand.

  “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  “I’m glad you have confidence in me.” Wilson helped North to his feet. “Why don’t you go for a walk around the gardens? Some fresh air might do you some good.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  Wilson rolled his eyes.

  “And he was just as stubborn as you are now. Even with a cracked skull.” He turned North around and gently pushed him towards the door. “Go. Mrs. Wilson wants to do some cleaning, and she doesn’t fancy sweeping you into the dustpan.”

  North laughed. Even at seventy, Mrs. Wilson bustled about as if she was eighteen years old. She could give North a run for his money. Not that North wanted to try that out; he had a feeling he would be the loser.

  Heading out onto the terrace, North went down the steps and into the vast gardens. Wilson’s suggestion was a good idea. There was a perfect place he had found that would be suited for the purpose. A huge oak sat next to the lake a quarter of a mile from the house, nature having made a soft blanket of grass into a perfect seat, big enough for two.

  That was where North went, sitting down with a relieved sigh and looking out at the calm waters. His head was still throbbing.

  If only he could remember more. When North had woken up, it had taken a few days to remember his name. The last thing he could remember with some clarity was going into battle where he had been caught hard on the head. The doctor said he had some memory loss and there was a chance he might never remember again.

  It slowly came back over time, with the help of his servants and his mother, the dowager duchess. Now North could remember his mother, his staff, and several of his relatives who had stuck by him while he convalesced in Northumberland. He could even remember his future bride, who had been waiting patiently for him when he came home.

  That was the strangest part of it. North now knew he was engaged but there was nothing when he looked at the woman he was going to marry. Something didn’t sit right, but he didn’t know what. And nobody would address it, his mother saying there was nothing wrong at all and he was just unwell from the knock.

  North had given up thinking about it. It wasn’t as if he had to marry for love, anyway.

  It was a warm day. And the sun was warming his legs, the leaves shading North from the rays. He stretched his legs out and closed his eyes. In the past few days, he had found himself gravitating to this part of the lake and sitting there, looking at the beautiful scenery. Even though it was nice, North had a feeling something
was missing. It was as if he needed to be here with someone else.

  North had no idea how long he was asleep for—no dreams about the battle this time—until he felt lips on his cheek. That roused him, and North opened his eyes to find a beauty leaning over him. He couldn’t stop himself from staring.

  Lord, she was beautiful. Red hair pinned up in a chignon, smooth creamy-white skin with dark eyes that were wide and full of warmth. And that mouth, curved into a soft, affectionate smile, was enticing. North wondered where she had come from.

  “Am I dreaming?” he murmured.

  Beauty’s smile widened.

  “Far from it.”

  North then realized he was lying back with his jacket undone and his shoes off. Flushing, he sat up and began to dress himself. He couldn’t have a stranger, even one as lovely as this one, seeing the duke in a state of undress.

  “How long have you been sitting there?”

  “A while.”

  “And you never thought to wake me before?”

  Beauty shrugged.

  “You looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to wake you.”

  Now he was properly dressed, North took a closer look at her. She was tall, taller than most women of the current day. Even sitting North could tell she was going to be almost on eye-level with him. The yellow dress she wore was fitted well, albeit a little old. It didn’t look like she had just bought it.

  North had no problem with that. If a garment still fitted, it was best to make use of it. Mrs. Wilson had taught him fashion was one thing but throwing out clothes that still fitted was a crime in her eyes.

  And this beauty was here, talking to him. This had to be his lucky day. North shifted on nature’s seat to take a better look at her.

  “You come here often?”

  Beauty laughed and slapped his arm.

  “Honestly, you.” She looked out over the lake. “You could hardly believe it’s so close to Newcastle.”