Passion Regency Style

by Wendy Vella

  Her heart broke twice that day, for she knew her father had refused his offer of marriage. She must have cursed Nicholas a thousand times for offering for her. Though his kiss had haunted her, she could have convinced herself the emotions were a girl’s fantasies—if not for that damned marriage proposal. His asking for hand in marriage had given life to her feelings. Then he’d allowed his father to send him away, leaving behind promises she knew he would never keep.

  Josephine bowed her head and finally gave in to the tears that had fought to be freed the moment she’d laid eyes on him a month ago.

  Why did you return, Nick?

  “Lovely evening, is it not?”

  Josephine jerked her head up at hearing the familiar voice.

  Lord Wylst stood on the path beyond the hedges that lined the manicured lawn around the circular pond.

  Jo swiped at her cheeks and resisted the urge to jump to her feet. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was invited, like you.”

  “That is a fine coincidence,” she snapped. “It is more likely you are here to harass me.”

  He rounded the pool, then stopped in front of her. “You are not happy to see me, my dear?”

  Perhaps rising was a good idea after all—leaving was even a better idea. She rose and started past him. He stepped in her way.

  Josephine lifted her gaze to his face. Only the rim of the sun remained over the horizon, but she could still discern his smirk. “Step aside, sir.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “So that you can extract more money from me? Have a care, sir. If you push me too far, you will get nothing.”

  “If I get nothing, I expose you.”

  “I imagine you will not want to lose your newly found place in society.” Or the newly found place in my mother’s bed, she silently added.

  Jo’s heart began to beat faster. Dare she say a word about knowing what was going on between him and her mother? If she threatened to expose them, would he fear losing her mother as a lover?

  “Men are allowed indiscretions,” he said as if reading her mind. “Women are not. I will survive quite well. You, however...”

  “You will do yourself no good if you bleed me dry and expose us. What reason will I have to pay you anything if I believe you will do that?”

  “I agree, it’s a delicate situation,” he said. “But don’t get too high and mighty. I have financial obligations and I will not be put off.”

  “Financial obligations?” she repeated. “Like losing money to Lord Grayson?”

  A nasty glint appeared in his eyes. “Sticking your nose in business that does not concern you is dangerous. But speaking of your future husband, it is time you cease trying to wiggle out of the marriage—and that includes dallying with men like Lord Beaumond.”

  Josephine drew a sharp breath.

  He nodded. “That’s right. I know about the marquess. No more of such shenanigans, at least not until after you have given Grayson an heir.”

  “How dare you?” she shot back. “Not everyone eschews fidelity as do you.”

  Lord Wylst laughed. “Most, in fact, are exactly like me.” He narrowed his eyes. “But that aside, you will behave and marry Nicholas.”

  “My marriage is none of your concern.”

  “Oh, but it is my concern.”

  “I will not marry Nicholas just so that you can bleed him dry,” she said.

  “Do not worry about Grayson.”

  Josephine shook inside. “If you are here to demand more money, I did not bring any with me.”

  “That is a pretty necklace you’re wearing.” He nodded to the pearls she wore.

  Her hand flew to her throat. “These were a gift from my father.”

  He gave a condescending laugh and extended his hand. “Give them to me.”

  She took a step back. “No.”

  His hand dropped back to his side. “Then you leave me no choice. I must speak with Montagu. He is here at the party, is he not?”

  “Will you also tell him who procured your invitation to Lady Allaway’s party?”

  Malice gleamed in his eyes. “Do you think it would interest him?”

  A fresh wave of fear brought a chill, but she forced a calm voice, “Aye, he will be mightily interested.”

  “Shall we tell him together, then?”

  He took a step closer and she flinched.

  He laughed.

  The murmur of distant voices cut off his laughter. “Be quick about it,” he said.

  Josephine glanced in the direction the voices had come.

  “Girl,” he growled. She hesitated and he grasped her arms and spun her around. She twisted in an effort to break free, but his fingers tightened on her flesh as he hissed in her ear, “Do you want them to hear and ask you what is wrong?”

  She froze when he grasped the clasp, his fingers brushing the hairs that stood on end at the back of her neck. With painful clarity, memory rose of her squeal of delight when her father produced the jewelry box on her sixteenth birthday. The pearls were the first jewelry she had been given and was the only jewelry her father had ever given her. He had clasped them about her neck, then turned her to face him and called her his grownup girl.

  Josephine closed her eyes and willed back the tears.

  Forgive me, Father.

  Lord Wylst lifted the pearls from around her neck and she whirled to face him.

  “There now,” he said. “That wasn’t so terrible, was it?”

  “You may consider that next month’s payment,” she said in a low voice.

  His brows rose. “Is that so?”

  The crunch of boots on rocky ground cut off her reply as Nicholas appeared with her sister, Lady Deeds, and Henry Maxwell from within the tall bushes on the far side of the fountain. Josephine glimpsed Lord Wylst slipping her pearls into his jacket pocket and she wanted to melt into the ground. Of all the people to come upon her and the baron it would have to be Nicholas. Yes, she realized, it was all too coincidental, which meant it was no coincidence at all. He had come in search of her. She wanted to cry and scream at the same time.

  “Smile,” Lord Wylst hissed under his breath. “You look as though you have just come from a funeral.”

  She felt as if she had just come from a funeral, but forced aside the pain, and said, “Lady Allaway’s garden is hailed as one of the most beautiful gardens in all the Highlands.” Her voice was too bright and she feared neither Nicholas nor her sister would be fooled.

  “So I have heard,” Lord Wylst said. “They are, indeed, the most beautiful I have seen.”

  She repressed the desire to slap the satisfied smile off his face, and smiled at the approaching group. “Good evening, my lords, Lady Deeds.”

  Josephine didn’t miss the thin-lipped disapproval on her face. The old biddy wasn’t a gossip, but she was a busybody. By night’s end she would make certain Josephine’s father knew she’d been in the gardens alone with Lord Wylst. Jo recalled her father’s threat to marry her off to the man she seduced and suppressed a shiver at the thought of him thinking she was cavorting with the baron.

  The group stopped beside them, and she said, “I see you were able to get Lord Grayson out for a walk, Annabel.”

  “He was quite willing,” she replied. “In fact, we hoped to run into you.”

  Jo wagered they did. She prayed her shock at having given up her pearl necklace didn’t show.

  When Nicholas said, “Wylst,” in a voice dripping with condemnation over the fact that the baron was alone with the future Countess of Grayson, another wave of shame rolled over Josephine.

  * * *

  Nicholas didn’t wait for a response from Wylst, but turned his eyes onto his betrothed. She smiled and spoke enthusiastically with her sister and Lady Deeds, but the animation didn’t reach her eyes. She didn’t look as if she had been caught in another man’s embrace—she was fully dressed and not a hair was out of place on her head. In fact, he was sure she didn’t like the baron. So wha
t was she doing with him in the gardens? Had Wylst followed her?

  Nick shot a glance at him. The man appeared to listen intently to the women, but Nick detected no signs of lust. He hadn’t forgotten the young woman Wylst was rumored to have ruined during Nick’s stay in Paris. He never learned the details, but he hadn’t doubted for a moment the man was capable of the despicable act. He and Beaumond were of the same cut.

  “It is growing late,” Nicholas said. “Perhaps we should return to the castle.”

  Wylst made a move as if to offer his arm to Jo, but she slipped her hand into the crook of Nick’s arm. It seemed she hadn’t seen Wylst, but Nicholas was certain she had.

  Wylst’s eyes narrowed in resentment, but Nicholas pretended not to notice, and said, “Shall we?”

  “Indeed,” Lady Deeds said. “It would not do for someone to catch a chill.” She gave Josephine a meaningful look, which Jo blithely ignored.

  Nick pressed a hand to Annabel’s back to start her forward ahead of them. She fell into place alongside Lady Deeds and Henry, with Wylst beside Josephine as they began walking.

  “I understand you are investing in Easton’s shipping company,” Wylst said to Nicholas.

  He jerked his gaze onto Wylst. “Where did you hear that?”

  The baron smirked. “You are not the only gentleman Easton does business with.”

  Jo’s fingers flexed on Nick’s arm. He looked down at her in inquiry, but she stared straight ahead.

  “Cumberland, I believe is the name of the company,” Wylst said. “He plans a year’s trip to the orient. Should be quite lucrative.”

  Nicholas made a mental note to decline investing in the company. If Easton was fool enough to involve Wylst, he wanted nothing to do with the venture.

  “It looks as though you and I will be partners,” the baron went on.

  “I cannot see how.”

  Wylst looked surprised. “As investors in Cumberland, we will be partners.”

  “If you are looking for a company where you can take an active role, you have made a mistake with Cumberland. Easton is looking for silent partners.”

  “So he is telling most of the investors he approaches,” Wylst replied. “But he is looking for two equal partners as well. He tells me you are one.”

  Nick lifted a brow. “I do not intend to go into the shipping business.”

  Wylst frowned. “Easton is under the impression you are committed.”

  Nick gave Wylst a cold smile. “Then he is as mistaken as you.”

  Chapter Seven

  Josephine squinted against the morning sun at her mother, who, up ahead on the road, rode a dark chestnut alongside Miss Jane Halloway. This last week, the girl’s parents had paraded her around like a piece of horsemeat for sale—an apt analogy, as far as Josephine was concerned—and Jo had the impression she was relieved to have a quiet day away from any eligible gentlemen.

  Jane’s father led the group along with Lord Deeds. They were eight in all and, once the woods gave way to sparser trees, they would leave the road to picnic along the banks of loch Ness.

  For Josephine, the only thing she liked about their outing was Lord Wylst’s absence. He, along with Nicholas and her father, had remained at Barthmont Keep. A day free of the three men had been worth the price of her mother’s company.

  The sun shone through clouds that reminded the god of light that even its great power could not penetrate the clouds’ airy density should they deign it so. But Jo had lived in Inverness all her life, and knew these clouds would not rain today, despite their show of power.

  She had brought a copy of James MacPherson’s translation of Ossian and hoped to lose herself in the poetry. But she feared her mind would return to Lord Wylst and his command that she marry Nicholas. After hearing the baron talk business with Nicholas last night, she feared part of his reason for wanting her to marry Nick was that he felt the connection would give him entry into Nicholas’ world of finance. That possibility terrified her even more than him trying to blackmail her for Nick’s money.

  Her heart broke anew. She hadn’t deluded herself. She knew from the moment Wylst appeared in her life she had to get Nick to call off the marriage. But she hadn’t quite let go of the joy she felt upon signing the contract. Nicholas was right. She had fancied herself in love with him since the age of thirteen. That girl’s fantasy grew into a woman’s desire and Nick’s return resurrected the feelings she had convinced herself were dead. And now the baron threatened to expose the truth if she didn’t marry Nicholas. She saw only one solution. She had to get rid of Lord Wylst, and she knew of only one way.

  The party turned a bend in the road and Jane’s cry shattered Jo’s thoughts. A carriage blocked the road. Beside the team, a mounted man aimed a gun at the driver. A second highwayman stood and pressed a gun to a young man’s back, while a third brigand—a giant of a man—gripped a woman’s arm. The group froze, all eyes on Jo’s party. Fear lodged in Josephine’s throat.

  “By God,” Lord Deeds cursed, and yanked a pistol from the waistband at his back.

  “He has a gun!” the highwayman holding the woman shouted.

  The young man who stood at gunpoint rammed an elbow into the ribs of the brigand behind him, then whirled and threw a punch to his jaw. The gun roared. The driver dove off the carriage to the other side of the vehicle, and the man pointing his pistol at him fired. Lord Deeds spurred his horse forward just as his wife screamed.

  “Ride, ladies!” Mr. Halloway shouted, and urged his horse after Lord Deeds.

  Jo’s mother looked at Jane, who had stopped beside her. “Go, Jane.” Her gaze cut to the other ladies. “Mrs. Halloway, Lady Carlisle, Amanda—for God’s sake, ride!”

  Lady Carlisle and her daughter obeyed, but Jane sat frozen, eyes glued to her father who raced toward the chaos. Jo’s stomach pitched when the brigand gripping the woman’s arm yanked her against his chest and jammed a gun to her temple. He looked wildly about as he dragged her backwards, away from the men fighting.

  “Jane,” Mrs. Halloway cried.

  Josephine’s mother reached across the distance between her and Jane, and yanked Jane’s horse’s reins. The beast took several quick backwards steps. Jane broke from the stupor and yanked the reins. Josephine wheeled her horse around to avoid collision with Jane as she turned her mount in a hard circle. She lunged past Josephine in unison with another shot that split the air. Jo gasped when Lord Deeds suddenly listed in the saddle. Mr. Halloway sped past him while the man who had shot at the driver lunged toward the horses.

  Her mother’s eyes came around hard on Josephine. “Ride to Barthmont Keep for help. Now.” She kicked her mount’s belly and he sprang toward the commotion in one great leap.

  “Mother!” Jo cried.

  Confusion washed over Josephine. Her mother had ordered her to go for help but—She looked over her shoulder. The road lay empty. Surely, the other women would send help? She returned her gaze to her mother, who had reached Lord Deeds, slumped over his horse. Her mother grabbed his horse’s reins and, with one hand on his arm to steady him, drove the beast off the road. Jo’s heart rammed against her chest when her mother disappeared into the trees with the viscount.

  Eyes on the man still holding the woman, Josephine urged her horse toward the trees on the opposite side of the road where her mother had gone. The brigand who had shot the driver managed to grab the reins of the nearest horse, and leapt into the saddle as Mr. Halloway reached the carriage.

  Josephine nearly cried out when the giant highwayman yanked the woman around and shouted, “William!” to his comrade in the saddle.

  The man galloped away.

  With the highwayman’s back to her, Josephine spurred her horse into the woods and began circling around the carriage. Through the trees, the young man was visible, panting over the motionless body of the brigand he’d been fighting. The driver stood beside him and, he, along with Mr. Halloway who still sat atop his horse, stared at the remaining highwayman. He back
ed away, using the woman as a shield. She looked like a pale rag doll against his massive frame. The young man took a step toward them.

  The brigand jerked. “Stop, or I kill her.”

  The young man halted.

  Mr. Halloway said, “Kill her, and you face a rope.”

  The man gave a harsh laugh. “Ye will hang me one way or another. Get off your horse.”

  Mr. Halloway didn’t move.

  “Get off, or I shoot her!” the highwayman shouted.

  “For God’s sake, man, dismount,” the young man said.

  Mr. Halloway complied.

  “Move away,” the giant ordered, and the three men backed away from the horse. The man edged around with the girl until he neared the horse.

  “Let her go and we won’t chase you,” the young man said. “We care only for her safety.”

  The brigand swung the gun and fired into the group, shoving the girl toward them. The young man stumbled, and Jo gasped when he collapsed to the ground. The driver caught the girl in his arms, but she pulled free and dropped to her knees beside her companion.

  Fury swept through Josephine. She kicked her mare’s ribs as Mr. Halloway lunged for the highwayman, and her horse shot out onto the road. The giant moved quicker and swung his pistol at Mr. Halloway’s jaw. The older man’s head snapped with the force of the blow and blood spurted from his mouth. Yet he still drove a fist into the brigand’s belly. The man swung an upper cut to Halloway’s jaw.

  The young woman hugged her comrade, crying. The driver stripped off his coat and pressed it against the man’s chest. Jo forced back the need to retch and stopped beside the coach. She spotted a large rock near the wheel and jumped from the saddle.