Racing with the Wind (Agents of the Crown)

by Regan Walker

  She had been persuaded for a moment as he talked that they could still marry, but as she’d thought about the solution, it just didn’t feel right. Lady Hearnshaw would be alone and facing the entire ton and they would be quick to cut her and call her disgraced. Mary knew what it felt like to experience society’s disdain for her rebellious ways. No, she would not bring that—and worse—on another woman, even a woman like Amanda Hearnshaw. And then there was the child. If it was Hugh’s then it deserved the family God gave it. What a mistake it was to fall in love with a rake, and now she was suffering the consequences—just like Lady Hearnshaw. Hugh had left a message saying he was going to speak with his former mistress, but what could come of that?

  He had said she would be his only woman: “Not one of my women, my only woman. My wife.” Still, Mary did not see how he could distance himself from the mother of his child, and she would not respect him if he abandoned the babe. She did not know whether to believe him when he said the child wasn’t his. How she hoped it was true, how she prayed she was being unfair. There seemed to be no true answer to this tangle, not when fate conspired against her.

  After days of despair, anger had finally come; the spirit of the woman who would not be conquered rose once again within her. She was angry with herself for forgetting her commitment to be no man’s prize, angry with Hugh for all his mistresses and for the fruit of his most recent liaison. She would not remain a victim! She would not.

  Her uncle had come to Campbell Manor from Paris and stayed to hear her story of the trip back to London. She did not relate that she had agreed to marry Hugh, nor did she tell him of Lady Hearnshaw’s disclosure. Her uncle passed along several offers of marriage that he’d received for her. Surprisingly there were many, but none brought a smile to her face. Well, except perhaps for one.

  The offer from Joseph Decazes was not wholly unexpected. She had grimaced at first, given his seeming treachery, but her uncle explained that the vicomte had become a much-favored subject of King Louis in the last few weeks, that he had been working for French interests all along, even while pretending to work for the other allies. He was now being celebrated in Paris. And he remembered her fondly. More than fondly, truth be told. With enthusiasm for a union stretching across the channel, he was summoning her back to Paris, should she agree to become his bride.

  Though her heart was breaking, Mary knew she must consider the future. Would living in France be so bad? The vicomte was pleasant company. He had wanted her to stay in Paris, and he had told her she could have both her independence and love. It would not be love if she married him, she knew; her heart would always belong to Hugh. But if she could not have love, the love she’d always wanted, life could still be interesting. Like Germaine, she had suffered. Now perhaps she could live. She had a sense the vicomte would let her. He had sent a note with her uncle, a message for her: Know this, Lady Mary, I am very sorry for my own test of your loyalty gone wrong at the cathedral that night, for I would not have hurt you for the world. You were so courageous, and as we parted I knew I must have you for my own. Please forgive me and be my wife, and I will spend my life making it up to you.

  He was taking the blame for the Prussians abducting them, but that wasn’t really fair. They would have been seized anyway. They had known too much. Yes, she could forgive Decazes. He would want her love. And though she thought she could make a difference in France, she could not bring herself to marry another.

  Then a new thought reared its head. What if, as Hugh had suggested, she was carrying his child? Hugh’s baby. As much as the thought thrilled her, it horrified her as well. She would be in no better position than Amanda Hearnshaw. Until she knew for sure whether she was pregnant, she couldn’t make a move. She didn’t even want to consider what it would mean to be a ruined woman.

  No, she didn’t want to think about any of it. She wanted to ride.

  Chapter 29

  “I love her!” Hugh exclaimed, pacing in front of Lord Baynes, who sat observing from a large chair in his study. Two weeks had gone by since his return from France. Hugh had tried three times to see Mary, to explain and to persuade her to marry him. She had refused his card. She had refused to see him. He’d even run out of ideas to help Amanda. In desperation he had come to see Mary’s uncle.

  “Have you told her?”

  “She refuses to see me. I have tried twice since learning the truth from Amanda.”

  Lord Baynes looked glum. “You should know, Hugh, that Mary has received many offers, including those from Arthur Bywood, Lord McGinnes and Joseph Decazes.”

  Hugh scoffed. “Bywood is a pup. He could never handle Mary. McGinnes is old enough to be her father, and after the disaster in Paris I can’t believe Decazes has the temerity to pursue her.”

  “Those aren’t her only offers,” Lord Baynes reminded him. “She has a dozen others. It seems the ‘young hellion’ has won over at least half the ton, though the other half remains thoroughly unmoved. As for the vicomte, perhaps you haven’t heard. Before I left Paris he became something of a hero in Louis’s court. As I hoped, he was always France’s man. Though he may have had more hair than wit in the way he went about it, he did entrap a number of entities disloyal to the king. The information he obtained, together with what Sir Martin and you learned, not to mention the warehouse finding, condemned an entire ring of treacherous scoundrels.”

  “It matters little,” Hugh pronounced. “Mary agreed we would marry. I consider her engaged to me, whether anyone likes it or not.”

  “You were always my first choice.”

  Hugh was taken aback. He’d had no idea that Lord Baynes had wanted them to marry, but he wasn’t about to complain. Not when it was what he wanted more than anything.

  The older man sighed. “Alas, that bit about Amanda has set Mary off. Her mother informs me she is now entertaining the possibility of returning to France. She plans on living there, and I can’t say I like the idea.”

  Hugh winced. Could Mary think she might be carrying his child and wanted to escape the eyes of the ton? The thought of that possibility stiffened his resolve to claim what was his. “She can’t do that,” he said. “I love her too much to ever let her go.”

  “I see.” Lord Baynes pinched the bridge of his nose. “And what are your plans?”

  “It is still my intention to marry her just as soon as it can be done. I’ve been carrying a special license since the day after I returned. The archbishop is a friend of my father’s.”

  Lord Baynes wore a peculiar expression. “I expect I bear some responsibility for the situation you and Mary find yourselves in. I let you take her from Paris hoping you would get together. I just saw it working out a bit differently.”

  Hugh froze, startled.

  “You need not look at me like that,” said the older man. “You were taking too long to realize you cared for Mary, and she was too content to remain unmarried. It was like trying to coax two warring countries to the negotiating table. I merely took advantage of the circumstances. I was hoping that during the trip you would both realize you belong together.”

  “If it is any comfort, your plan worked. We couldn’t stay away from each other. In fact, we have never been able to do that. It was my intention to marry her in Calais, but it was there that Mary learned about Amanda’s condition and insisted I wed the woman.”

  “You are certain the child is not yours?”

  “I am. Amanda admitted it to me.”

  “And you have told Mary?” Lord Baynes inquired.

  “Not yet. She will not see me. Even if I can arrange that, I suspect she will want some solution for Amanda.”

  “I see. She has it in her mind to do the noble thing and let Amanda Hearnshaw have you.” He sighed. “You’ll recall I told you she could be quite determined, and right now she is set upon doing what she sees as the right thing even if it is the harder path. But fear not, she will soon know the truth. And there is a solution that will put Mary’s mind at rest and at the same time r
emove all possibility the ton may think the child is your bastard.”

  “You have a plan?” Hugh asked, encouraged.

  “I do, or at least the possibility of one.” Lord Baynes sat rubbing his fingers over his mouth, his focus on the carpet as if working a puzzle in his mind. After a moment he raised his head. “As I recall, Lady Hearnshaw is a beautiful woman. Am I correct?”

  “She is attractive.”

  Lord Baynes raised an eyebrow at Hugh, who had sunk into the chair next to him. “Is she also, by any stroke of luck, a horsewoman?”

  “Yes. Though she cannot ride like your niece.”

  The diplomat dropped his hand and rose from his chair. “I think I may have a proposal I wish to explore. It will take some cleverness. Go now and wait for my message. If I am successful, and if you still have that magnificent chestnut, you will want to ride to Campbell Manor as fast as you can.”

  * * *

  “Elizabeth!” Mary had never been so glad to see her dear friend, and she reached out her arms to give her a tight hug.

  “I couldn’t wait for an invitation, Mary. I had to come. So much has happened, I simply had to see you!” Lizzy’s blue-gray eyes were sparkling, and her cheeks were flushed.

  “Come, we’ll have tea and you can tell me your news.” Mary put her arm around Elizabeth and guided her into the parlor, asking Hudson to call for the appropriate comestibles. Taking position on the settee opposite her friend, Mary waited expectantly.

  “While you have been in France, Mary, I have had a frequent caller. A very dashing and attentive suitor, actually.”

  “You have?” Mary would be happy for whichever young man had put such a glow on Elizabeth’s face.

  “Oh, Mary, he is so…so everything I knew he would be!”

  Mary laughed. “Are you going to tell me who this god-like creature is, or will you continue to torture me?”

  “Cannot you guess? Why, Griffen Lambeth, of course!”

  Mary goggled. “Lizzy, I had no idea. You did not speak of him.” She recalled the several letters she had received in Paris, but none spoke of Hugh’s fair-haired chum.

  “He came to call on me a week after you left, and he has been nearly a daily visitor to my home in London until just recently when he left for Paris. I didn’t say anything because…well, because I wasn’t sure what his intentions were.”

  “And now you are?”

  “Well, now I think they are honorable—though he has not proposed marriage yet.”

  Mary wanted to be happy for her friend. She loved Elizabeth and wanted to see her with the husband of her dreams, but it was hard for Mary to rise above the fog of melancholy that seemed to follow her everywhere. Especially when her friend’s joy seemed so similarly wrapped up in the dangers of loving a rake. Should she be afraid for her?

  Lizzy seemed oblivious. “What of your news, Mary? In your letter, you said Lord Ormond appeared in Paris and was working with your uncle. Was there any more after that?”

  Mary didn’t want to go into it, especially not when her friend seemed so happy. No, Elizabeth didn’t need to know of her broken betrothal. “No, there is no news as far as he goes, really.”

  Elizabeth sat back, looking somewhat disappointed. “What of the Frenchman you spoke of in your letter, Vicomte Decazes, who took you all over Paris?”

  “Ah,” Mary said. “Joseph Decazes. He is a very likeable man, Lizzy. I think you would find him handsome, too. He has blue eyes, but they are deeper in color than yours. He has already accomplished much for France with his brother the Comte Decazes. He will have a good future there, and…he has asked for my hand.”

  Elizabeth did not react. Instead. she looked at Mary with those probing blue eyes of hers. Suddenly serious she said, “Mary that would be wonderful news if you didn’t look so downcast. Is he not appealing as a husband?”

  Mary dropped her eyes to hide her pain. “He would make any woman a good husband,” she admitted, “but I haven’t decided whether to accept his offer. There are others. I’m really not sure yet what I will do. Perhaps I will not marry just now at all.”

  “Oh, Mary…if you married Vicomte Decazes, you would live in Paris, wouldn’t you? I don’t think I could bear to have you so far away!”

  “Paris is an exciting place, Lizzy. It affords many opportunities for a woman. I was very taken with Germaine de Stael and the life she has there.” Mary was not surprised to see her friend’s worried look, and she said, “Don’t worry, Lizzy. I’m not going anywhere soon. Come, let us have a spot of tea and take a walk in the gardens. You can tell me all about your new love, and I can tell you about my adventures in Paris, for there were many.”

  She forced a smile and went to pour the tea. For Elizabeth’s sake, she would not be sad. She would trust her friend had done better than she, and for herself she would remember the adventures and not the man.

  Chapter 30

  It was two long, anxious days before Hugh received what he so desperately awaited. He was sitting in his study, trying to concentrate on dispatches with no success when it arrived. His valet placed the silver tray within his reach.

  “My lord, a message has just been delivered by Lord Baynes’s man.”

  Hugh lifted the envelope. “Does he await a reply?”

  “No, my lord. He has already departed.”

  Hugh ripped the paper open and hurriedly read the note. “My God, the man is amazing. What a diplomat!” A grin slowly spread across his face.

  His valet stared at him in wonder. “My lord?”

  “We leave immediately for the country!” Hugh stood, stuffing the message in his pocket. He ran to the stairs and took them two at a time.

  His valet followed. “What would you have me pack, my lord?”

  Hugh shouted over his shoulder, never slowing his pace. “Riding clothes!”

  * * *

  Mary found the familiar rhythm of Midnight’s hooves settled her. It didn’t take away the pain, of course. It didn’t take away the memory of the man who was always in her thoughts and in her heart, but riding fast did require her attention. The faster she rode, the easier it became to think of nothing but the horse, the wind in her face and the fierce sense of freedom she had when riding Midnight.

  She was headed for a trail that led through a familiar grove of trees when she heard the pounding hooves of a horse coming up fast behind her. She turned in the saddle to see the last person she’d expect, Hugh, his jacket flying out behind him, his dark hair blowing across his forehead. He pulled up beside her and grabbed Midnight’s reins, slowing both horses to a walk.

  “What are you doing?” she shouted, realizing she must sound like a shrew but at that moment not caring.

  “This is the only way I can see you. You’ve kept me away too long. We need to talk.” He reined the horses toward the trees, dismounted and walked around to where Mary looked down on him from her horse.

  “What is there to talk about?” She couldn’t do this again. It was tempting to forget another woman’s pain and take what she wanted, the man she wanted, even raise his bastard child, but she would not do it. She could not. Besides, did she even trust him now? She didn’t think he’d lie to her, exactly, but in the face of another woman’s child and—

  He pulled her from her horse without answering. In his arms, she was held against his chest; her breasts pressed against him, reminding her of all they had shared when there were no clothes between them. “I’m not letting you go, Mary. You are mine. Do you hear me?”

  “I’ve had an offer of marriage from Vicomte Decazes…,” Mary replied, wanting to give him an out if he wanted it.

  “Absolutely not. You will not marry him. You are betrothed to me and I’m not letting you go.”

  His face was so close she could barely think. She wanted to throw her arms around him, but instead she pushed away and walked into the grove of trees. When she’d put several yards between them, she turned. “We are done talking about this, Hugh. Have you forgotten about Lady
Hearnshaw’s child? Your child?”

  “It’s not mine. Amanda has admitted as much, which I always believed. She has stopped pursuing me—not that such pursuit would have mattered. Hell, Mary, I haven’t even thought of another woman since I met you.”

  “Oh.” Mary felt the air leave her chest. For a moment she just stared at him, but then her fears returned. “Why did she claim the child is yours?”

  “The babe is the child of her married lover, James Harrison, the Earl of Malmesby. He cannot marry her. She had hoped to trap me into marriage to legitimize his by-blow, but your uncle has done a wonderful bit of diplomacy and she will now marry McGinnes. So the child will have a father—a family.”

  “Lord McGinnes?” Mary repeated, dazed. His words were beginning to sink in.

  “Why not? He wants an heir, and a horsewoman for a wife. And, he isn’t certain he can father his own heir. With Amanda, he can have both a wife who loves horses and, if the child is a boy, an heir. He is a generous and apparently very forgiving, since he knows the full details of the story. He’s willing to claim the child as his. She should be grateful. It should be an interesting match.”

  Mary sagged, unable to believe her ears. Hugh stared intently into her eyes.

  “So, you will marry me? Or, rather, when will you marry me?”

  Her eyes fell. “You never said you loved—”

  “You silly, beautiful girl,” he interrupted. “Look at me.” With one finger, he raised her chin. “You have only to look into my eyes to see how I feel about you.”

  Looking into his brandy-colored eyes, she could indeed see love. And a deep longing.

  “I think I began to fall in love with you when I first saw you at that ball. I was enthralled when I observed you riding that stallion of yours. I was captivated at lunch as you sat there telling your uncle and me about the foolish rulers of Europe. The first time I kissed you I knew I could not stay away from you, and I have been jealous of every man who has ever wanted you since. I have not been able to think about another woman since the first time you argued with me. I even loved you when you so foolishly dressed up like a stable boy to break into that warehouse in Paris. Mary, I meant it when I said I want you for my wife. I love you.”