by Ava Stone
Prissa began to cry but Bella couldn’t. Crying would make it all too real, crying would mean she’d given up, that she’d surrendered—and she wasn’t prepared to do that.
Greg’s hand landed on her shoulder. “One of your footmen has gone for Watts.”
But there was no point. She could hear that in Greg’s voice. She glanced up at him and shook her head. “He’ll be all right.”
He didn’t look convinced. “Bella,” he began.
But she shook her head. “He’ll be all right, Greg.”
It seemed like a lifetime had passed by the time Doctor Watts arrived at Chatham House, but once the old doctor finally stepped into the parlor, it took only a moment for him to declare what Greg already knew. Aylesford was dead. “A weak heart,” the doctor suggested.
A weak heart or a broken one, they both amounted to the same thing.
“He’s…gone?” the Duke of Chatham stuttered out, his voice filled with emotion. “My son?”
Watts cast His Grace, Bella, Lady Priscilla and Hellsburg a pitiful expression as he said, “I am sorry.”
“No!” Bella wailed, her hand trembling as she covered her mouth while Lady Priscilla fell into a puddle of tears.
Greg wasn’t certain if he’d ever felt so helpless in his life. He slid his arm around Bella’s waist and held her tight. “I’m so sorry,” he said against her ear. “My sweet girl, I’m so sorry.”
She was crying too hard to respond, so Greg just held her as she sobbed against his cravat, wishing there was more he could do. But there wasn’t a blasted thing he could to make anything better.
“Can’t you do something for the two of them?” Chatham grumbled, sounding much more like his usual acrimonious self than he had a moment ago.
Watts winced slight. “Your Grace, I—”
“They are distraught and making it impossible for me to hear my own damned thoughts.”
“A bit of laudanum might calm their nerves,” the doctor suggested.
It wasn’t necessarily a bad suggestion, not if it would help the ladies’ despondent state. “Come on, sweetheart, let me help you to your chambers,” Greg said softly to Bella.
“You will go nowhere!” Chatham barked.
Oh, for God’s sake. Greg wasn’t about to take advantage of Bella in her current state. “Your Grace—”
“Except out of my house,” the duke continued. Then he gestured to Bella with a dismissive sweep of his hand. “And you can consider this so-called betrothal of yours cancelled. My granddaughter can do better than a mere baron.”
“No!” Bella screamed.
Stunned, Greg instinctively tightened his arms around her.
But Bella pushed out of his hold and nearly stumbled as she turned to face her grandfather. “You can’t do that!”
“I can do anything I like,” the duke snapped. He glanced to his strapping Prussian grandson and said, “See to him, won’t you?”
“No, no, no!” Bella threw herself back into Greg’s arms. “Please don’t leave,” she begged.
The last thing in the word Greg was going to do was leave her. But Hellsburg wrenched Bella backward, tossing her to the floor behind him as he reached for Greg.
Greg lunged for her, but her giant cousin’s fist was the last thing Greg briefly saw before the world went black.
Chapter 23
Bella pounded on her chamber door. Grandfather couldn’t keep her locked in there forever! Someone would come to her aid. Prissa, Mary, Doctor Watts…someone. Wouldn’t they?
Greg would come for her. She knew he would, if he was able to do so. But the last she’d seen of him, had been when Johann knocked him out cold and then dragged him from the parlor. Where her cousin had taken Greg, she had no idea. What if he’d done something awful? What if…
She couldn’t think like that. After Papa…she would not allow herself to think that Greg was gone. She couldn’t.
Bella sagged against the door, her throat raw from screaming and her knuckles bloody from pounding to no avail. And once she stopped, she couldn’t hear anything through the door. No talking, no crying, not one sound. It was almost as though no one was there, almost as though Chatham House was completely empty except for her.
She glanced around her room and her gaze settled on her window. It would be a long drop to the ground outside, but if no one was home, they wouldn’t hear her if she escaped, would they? She could make it to Clayworth House in less than ten minutes if she walked quickly. It would take a lot longer if she injured herself in the drop, and if no one heard her.
Just as she started for the window to see just how long a drop it would be, the door to her chamber opened and her grandfather stood just in the corridor glowering at her.
“Finally stopped shrieking, I see.”
Oh, she was so exhausted. Her throat ached, her arms ached, her heart ached. Her cheeks burned from all of her tears, but a fresh wave washed over her again. “Where’s Lord Avery?”
Her grandfather snorted in disbelief as he stepped into her room. “That really is not your concern anymore.”
Of course it was her concern. “Grandfather—”
The icy look in his eyes made her suck in a breath.
“I’m certain Watts saw him safely returned to his home, Arabella. But he is not your concern any longer.” He shook his head as though he was annoyed to even tell her that.
“And Prissa?” she asked. What had he done with her sister? Had she been locked away in her chambers too? Or—
“Asleep,” he grumbled. “Now sit down.”
Laudanum. He’d had Doctor Watts give her some laudanum, hadn’t he? The look in her grandfather’s eyes kept her from asking that question. He was far from patient on his best day and this was far from that. So she sat on the edge of her four-poster, her gaze darting past her grandfather as she wondered if she could beat him to the door. Bolting her way through Chatham House to freedom would be immeasurably safer than leaping from the window, but he was much closer to the door than she was, and she didn’t think she could make it past him.
“Tomorrow I’ll secure a special license and you will marry Johann before heading across the Channel.”
The air whooshed out of her. Why was he doing this? Why was he so intent on being so awful to her? There was no reason for any of it. “Lord Avery wants to marry me. Why can’t you—”
“He wouldn’t if he knew the truth about you, and—”
“That I’m strange?” she nearly shrieked. “He doesn’t think I’m strange. He adores me. He—”
“That you’re the bastard daughter of your whore mother,” he spat. “And Johann will make certain I never have to see you again.”
The room spun slightly. Or perhaps that was just Bella’s entire world. “I beg your pardon?”
Her grandfather shook his head in annoyance. “Your entire life I’ve been made to suffer your existence. A constant reminder that my son was made a goddamned cuckold. Why Aylesford claimed you I’ve never understood. But I will not have you tainting Priscilla with your presence any longer.”
Bella was…a bastard? A wave of nausea washed over her. She couldn’t be. Could she? But then little comments she’d heard from her grandfather throughout her life echoed in her ears. His hatred, his derision made so much more sense when seen through that particular lens. Oh dear God. Her world really was spinning. Papa wasn’t her father. And he’d known that her whole life? Was that true?
“Under the circumstances, you’re getting a lot better than you deserve with Johann. But you will not return to England once you leave. Am I clear?”
That was why he wanted her so far away? That was why he’d always hated her? Did he know who her father was? Was he sure it wasn’t Papa? Papa had always loved her. Would he have done so if she was a constant reminder of an unfaithful wife?
“Am I clear?” the duke barked.
Bella blinked at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“Even now your goddamned head is in the clouds,”
he complained. “You will not return to England.”
He was sending her to Prussia…but that was the last thing in the world she wanted for her future, tainted even as she was. Life with Johann couldn’t be all she had to look forward to. But that wasn’t what the duke expected to hear, and appeasing him now might be the only thing that could save her. “Yes, Grandfather.”
“And you will not call me that, any longer.” He turned around and left her alone in her chambers.
Bella fell back against her pillows and wept a fresh round of tears even though her cheeks burned. She could jump from her window, but where was she going to run to? She couldn’t run to Greg, not now, now that she knew who she was, or who she wasn’t rather. That would never be fair to him, and she loved him too much to taint his name with her unfortunate circumstances. If she defied Grandfa…the duke, he would see the truth of her parentage spread about Town, Bella had no doubt. He was mean and vindictive and… Greg would be ruined.
Goodness, where was she going to go? She couldn’t expect help from any of her…well, they weren’t her cousins anymore, were they? Still, she couldn’t count on any of them. Lissy was still in Derbyshire. But perhaps she could beg Cordie Clayworth to help her one last time. But she’d have to tell her the truth of all of it, and Bella wasn’t certain she could look the countess in the face to do so.
The one thing she couldn’t do was wait in her room for morning to come and to seal her fate in marrying Johann. She would sooner die first, and the drop from her window might just kill her.
Chapter 24
Good God, Greg’s head pulsed like the devil. He blinked his eyes open in the darkness. A bit of moonlight spilled into the room What time was it? And where the devil was he? But he knew the answer to that question. His bed at Avery House felt the same as it always had. He was in his chambers. He was definitely in his chambers. But why couldn’t he remember getting there? Had he imbibed too much? Had Tristan or Simon talked him into doing something foolish? Was that why his brain hurt like the dickens?
And then pieces of his memory began to slowly come back. Aylesford had died suddenly and…Damn it all, Chatham had effectively put an end to Greg and Bella’s betrothal. His heart twisted at that memory and he sat bolt upright in a panic, and then he wished he hadn’t moved so quickly. God in heaven, his head felt like he’d run into an anvil. He gingerly touched his brow and a fist-sized lump was unmistakable. That damned Prussian had coshed him over the head. For the love of God, the bastard had ham hocks for fists.
And Hellsburg had tossed Bella to the floor. That memory flashed in his mind, and Greg was on his feet. Oh, dear God, he had to get to her this moment. What if Hellsburg…no, no, no. He wouldn’t think that way. Thinking that way would only hinder him.
He quickly surmised that he was partially dressed. No jacket, no cravat, no boots, but otherwise he was clothed. That would save a bit of time. Greg bellowed, “Tomkins!” for his valet.
And a moment later, his man stumbled into Greg’s chambers with a candle, lighting the room more than the moonlight had done. “My lord, the doctor said you should stay abed.”
The doctor could go hang. “I need my jacket and Hessians, Tomkins, I am in a hurry.”
“Of course, my lord.”
And a pistol. He was going to need one of those too, not that he’d say as much to his valet. The man couldn’t testify to something he didn’t have prior knowledge of, could he? “And have Sanders summon a hack.”
“A hack?” his valet echoed. “But your coach…”
…would be unmistakable with his crest emblazoned on the side. No, no. Greg shook his head, even though doing so made it pulse like the devil. “A hack, Tomkins, and quickly.”
Blast it, Bella’s half-boots were slippery on the window frame. She’d thought they would be more practical than slippers, but now she was questioning that decision. Although, dangling from her window and stretching her legs as far as they’d go and trying desperately to find purchase on the window frame of the floor below was probably the wrong time to re-question her footwear choices.
Her fingertips gripped the edge of her window ledge and barely kept her from falling to her death. Her foot found the top of the window frame again and she struggled with all of her might to keep from slipping off again.
Her arms shook from her weight and she was certain she was about to die when her foot finally found a bit of ledge large enough to stand. She sagged against the outside of Chatham House, relief washing over her. She wasn’t safe, not yet; but she was much closer than she had been a moment ago. Finding a way down from the first floor was going to be a challenge. If only there had been a way out of her room through the doorway. But that was neither here nor there anymore. She was standing on the top of the window frame on the first floor of Chatham House, and wishing for another route was pointless now.
Oh, she wished her arms weren’t already mush.
Bella glanced on either side of the window, hoping for something she could hold onto in her attempt to make it down one more level. A drop from the window ledge of the ground floor wouldn’t kill her, but a drop from this first floor, she could easily break her leg, which would make escaping to a coaching inn nearly impossible.
For the love of God! “Stop!” Greg barked at the driver. Was that Bella, all dressed in black, somehow standing atop a window frame on the side of Chatham House?
Before the hack had even come to a complete stop, he’d leapt from the thing and raced across the street and up the walk. At first he’d been so relieved to see her, to see that she was unharmed, but that could end very quickly if she fell to her death.
“Bella!” he called up to her in a loud whisper.
She seemed to gasp and then she looked down on him as she struggled to keep her balance. “Greg?”
“Push away from the wall and I’ll catch you.”
She shook her head stubbornly. “It’s too far.”
It was far, but there was no way in the world he was going to lose her, not now, not ever. Greg stared up at her as he positioned himself in the best possible place to catch her, willing her to believe in him. “I will catch you. Trust me.”
She seemed to steel herself and then she nodded. After all, what other choice did she have?
“On three,” he said, lifting out his arms. “One, two, three.”
Bella pushed away from the stone façade and dropped…
Greg’s arms closed around her as they both tumbled to the ground. God in heaven, he couldn’t breathe as the wind had been knocked from him; but she was safe; and that was all that truly mattered.
Bella clung to Greg as though her life depended upon it, and a moment ago it had. She didn’t know what she would have done if he hadn’t shown up. But it sounded like he couldn’t breathe, so she released her hold on him and scrambled from atop him.
“Greg, are you all right? Did I hurt you?” Bella’s heart hammered in her chest.
“The…hack…” he seemed to choke out.
The hack? Bella glanced across the square and there was indeed a hack. “Can you stand?” Goodness, what if she’d broken his leg in the fall?
Greg nodded, though he still looked to be in a lot of pain.
Bella pushed up to her feet and lifted her hand to him. Honestly, she didn’t have a prayer of pulling him to his feet, however. He was so much larger than her. Something he realized too as he shook his head.
“Get to the hack. I’ll be right behind you.” He was starting to sound more like himself, which Bella took as a good sign.
But she wasn’t going to leave him, not until he was on his feet. “Can you really stand?”
To prove he could, Greg pushed up to his knees and then all the way to his feet. And though the two of them should have run for the hired coach, he pulled her into his arms and held her. “I was so worried about you.”
And she’d been worried about him too. She hugged him tighter, so relieved that he was whole and hale.
But then Greg
dropped his arms from her, took her hand in his and said, “We have to go, Bella. We have to go right now.”
He was right. She knew he was. Heaven help them if anyone came upon them right now. So together they rushed across the street to the awaiting hack.
As Bella climbed inside, Greg said to the driver, “Park Street, please. Thurlstone House.”
Thurlstone House? Why in the world were they going there?
Greg settled onto the bench beside her and slid his arm around her shoulders as the hack lurched forward. “My God, Bella, you took ten years off my life just now,” he said with a shake of his head.
She rather thought she’d taken ten years off her own life, but she hadn’t had any other choice. Just as she didn’t now. “Greg, I need to get to a coaching inn.” Some place where she could buy passage north, somewhere her grandf – goodness, it was so strange not to think of Chatham as her grandfather – but she needed to go somewhere the duke wouldn’t think to look for her.
“I’m sure we’ll find several on the way,” he said, squeezing her hand. “But I’ll need to get my coach first, and in case your grandfather arrives at Avery House while I’m there, it would be best if you’re somewhere else.”
“Thurlstone House,” she guessed.
Greg nodded. “I think he’d look for you at Cordie’s. But Thurlstone’s should be safe for a bit.”
Bella didn’t even know Lord Thurlstone. She’d heard of him though, and he didn’t have the most pristine name to recommend him, but then…she was a bastard and the last person who should be casting stones. But nothing else Greg said made sense. “Why are you getting your coach?”
“Do you have to ask?” He smiled down at her. “Your grandfather may refuse to let me marry you here, but a blacksmith in Gretna Green won’t care in the least.”
He wanted to elope, like his sister and his brother had done. Bella sighed. How she wanted that too, she wanted it more than anything in the world. But she couldn’t marry Greg, not now that she knew the truth. It wouldn’t be fair to him, especially after everything he’d done for her. The duke was right about that.